#(still not sure if it's like the right word for it in english)

[may-stuff]

a friend in need. - fc43

summary: you've been best friends for almost your entire lives. who is he to deny you some help when you need it the most?

warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, oral sex (m), dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie || typos and grammatical mistakes because english is not my first language and I'm a little stupid. also, this isn't great in any way so please don't be mean, thank u.

word count: 6.6k approx.

a/n: please please please, if you read this and you like it at least a little bit, please interact with it. If I don't get notifications I die 🥀

In the loneliness of your bedroom, you can't help but let your mind wander. Surrounded by shadows that seem to whisper his name in your ears, you get engulfed in the reminisce of him and almost every moment you've shared together. 

Behind your closed eyes you can see his beautiful face, his hair that smells so good, his hands and those long fingers that have touched you in a friendly way countless times before but tonight, tonight you remember those interactions from another perspective, in a new light. 

Not everything is about his physique, though. The brightness of his smile that could light up an entire room, his laugh and the sound of his voice- everything about him is perfect, even the imperfections. You also think of his moody, short answers in the morning when he's still sleepy; you think of his frown and the look in his eyes when he's angry for something or at someone, and even that seems like undeniable proof of a kind of beauty you've never seen before in anyone else. 

Your feelings for him, you realise now, go beyond everything; but tonight, in the quiet of your own room and with the knowledge that you'll never be more than his dear, best friend, you decide that setting your imagination free won't hurt anybody. He doesn't have to know, you don't even have to say his name out loud. 

Only in your mind. His name echoes in every part of your conscience as you imagine. You imagine him in situations that you're sure you'll never see him in. You imagine him kissing you, both softly and then roughly, as if he were trying to consume all of you. Your mind shows him on top of you, his clothes gone, his lips on your skin and your name coming out of them in a plea. 

The visions in your head are so clear that soon your own hands are exploring your body. First, they travel up and down all through your abdomen, making you feel goosebumps at the thought of how good this would feel if it only were his hands on your skin. When you reach your breasts and cup them in your hands under your shirt, you can't help but to moan softly, even more when your fingers pinch your nipples that, in result, become impossibly hard in a matter of seconds. With the image of his beautiful lips wrapping around your hardened peaks, painting them with his own saliva, you feel that familiar pressure in your lower abdomen. That sensation that comes with the arousal that becomes physical and pools in the deepest parts of you, coating your underwear more and more with each second that passes and he's still in your mind, touching you, making you feel better than any man has ever done before. 

In the complexity of the mind, a deep feeling of guilt presses onto your chest. You know this is wrong, you know this isn't what you should do when you think of your dearest friend, but you can't help it. You can't avoid the feelings and the images in your mind. It's like a film that won't stop playing over and over; it's a bunch of images of him on top of you, inside of you, whispering the filthiest things right in your ear. It's him telling you how divine you feel around him, how much he loves being buried deep inside of you. It's his voice moaning and grunting, face hidden in the curve between your neck and your shoulder. 

It's your hands caressing his back and your nails digging into his flesh every time he moves inside you, the lewd sounds of his cock sliding into your hungry pussy filling the room and, in response, making you more needy. 

In the real world, your left hand has already reached your underwear. Your fingers come in contact with the wet spot right above your slit and you moan softly to the knowledge that you've become this wet only because he is in your mind. And as the guilt hits you once again, trying to drift your mind away from the pleasure that the thought of him gives you, you decide to go against it. 

He will never know about this. 

That thought is decisive. Your shirt and underwear are gone in a matter of seconds, and when you feel the soft air coming in from the window and touching your skin, you shiver. You wish he would be here, his natural warmth engulfing your body and soul, making the sadness and loneliness go away. But you're alone in your empty house- and even if he were here, he wouldn't be where you want him to be. 

With the crude reality put in the back of your mind, your fingers finally travel down to where you need attention the most. Feeling your own dampness, you let out a deep sigh. No one has ever made you this wet, not even yourself. All of this is thanks to him, because of him. The fire in your veins, the need to feel pleasure, the need to cum, all of this intensity is due to him and his face engraved in your mind. 

That's why you can hear his voice so clearly in your head the moment one of your fingers finds its way inside of you. The familiar intrusion feels good but it's obviously not enough, so it isn't surprising that a second finger adds to the first in a matter of seconds and this time you feel fuller. You feel fuller and needier, because now you're realising that nothing will be actually enough, because what you need isn't a matter of size, it isn't a matter of how and how much; it's about him. It's all about him. 

About his face and his hands and his voice. About your own fingers trying to find the right pace as you can almost feel his lips on your skin. It's about you and the need to say his name even though you know that you shouldn't, because if you do, it'll become real. The shameful thought that you want your best friend in ways that you shouldn't, will become true if you say his name out loud. 

But you can't help it. Your fingers inside of you feel good enough to make you whimper and mutter words that don't make sense. They're enough to fuel the images in your mind and you can't take it anymore. So, against your will, his name leaves your lips and you feel some sort of relief with it, because now your needs have claimed his name as their own. Your lust has a name now, and you can't stop saying it. 

“Franco.” 

It comes out in a soft plea at first, loud enough so only you can hear it. But it doesn't take much time or effort for you to continue further, saying it louder and louder each time your fingers enter your cunt again. Soon the room is filled with your pleas and cries that almost sound like you're in pain, because in a way you are, but his name falling from your lips over and over are enough to cover them up. Or at least that's what you think. 

You would have heard the front door opening and closing if you were paying more attention to your surroundings. You would have heard the voice calling your name once, twice a second later and then the steps getting closer to your room. You would have had time to cover yourself and come up with an excuse if you weren't so lost in your own mind and body. That's why the only thing that brings you back to the present, to reality, is the light that bathes your face when your bedroom's door opens. 

Everything happens so fast that you're sure you won't be able to recall this memory in the near future. Or maybe you will, and it will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Once your eyes get used to the light that has suddenly corrupted the darkness in your room, your heart starts beating fast with horror. 

He's standing there, at your door, and the expression on his face is quite difficult to decipher. At his complete mercy, you're fully naked, laying on your bed with your legs wide open and your hands on your cunt; one of them with fingers buried deep inside you while the other is resting a little bit higher, just above your clit. Your chest is rising up and down with the heavy breathing that the pure terror and shame have triggered. Eyes wide open, mouth agape, you're frozen in the spot, unable to say a word, unable to act. 

The tension in the room is cut when he says your name, and maybe you're imagining things, but his voice sounds strangled.

Then, after some seconds, he mutters it again, your name. This time you're sure he's shocked with the scene in front of him but not entirely disgusted. 

The fear and guilt that had taken over you vanish almost completely when you see the expression on his face. Your eyes have adapted to the shining light coming into the dark room, so now you can see him more clearly, and the strange glint in his eyes is enough to make you think that maybe, just maybe, something good can come out of this situation.

Franco's eyes are wide open for a few shocking seconds. Then, when his brain processes the image before him, they start roaming your body. Bright green eyes observe your chest, bare tits and hardened nipples that seem to get even harder under his gaze. The valley between your breasts is covered in sweat and, in a strange way, that makes them look even more appealing. Your stomach, then, is a zone that perhaps you feel a little concerned to show too much but his expression doesn't change at any stop his eyes make on your body. He admires every part with the same intensity, with the same look of bewilderment in that gorgeous face.

He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible groan when his eyes reach your lower stomach and your legs, long and thick. His mouth agape when, in a sudden movement full of boldness, you open them a little wider and let him see more. He's standing to your right, so he can't see all of you properly, but he can see enough and, by the expression on his face, he's loving every second.

The absence of a negative reaction on his part emboldens you to act. Your hands, as if they were separated entities from the rest of your body, resume the earlier activities. Two of your fingers find your clit at the same time your left hand grabs one of your breasts. A sigh leaves your lips at the sudden contact and the fact that Franco is watching your every move makes a wave of pleasure hit you hard. You're aware that you're starting to put on a pornographic show for your best friend and, honestly, you're enjoying it maybe too much.

This is the first time you've seen him so focused on something. All those times he told you he struggled with his own attention span, you should've known that being naked in front of him, touching yourself for him, would be all he'd need to keep quiet and focused. That's why you chuckle when your eyes find him again and you see that his gaze is still fixed in your body.

The sound, a mix of a giggle and a moan, make him look at your face.

"Franco." You moan his name for the hundredth time this evening and rejoice when you actually see him shiver at the sound of your voice. "Please, please help me." You whimper, your own fingers pumping in and out of you faster each time. Harder. "I need you."

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and you know that he's fighting against something, against the fact that, if he gives in, everything will change. You will be friends no longer, because friends don't do this, friends don't want each other in such a way. But you do, and both of you know it. You both also know that, if you act on your shared desire, then when the moment is over you'll probably be in a limbo, trying to figure out what comes next.

But Franco actually doesn't care about the after, he almost never thinks too much before he acts. He lives the moment. You know that and your knowledge gets reinforced when he opens his eyes again and walks towards you, closing the door behind him. In response your heart flutters with excitement. 

Your fingers leave you and go up to rest on your lower stomach when he reaches your side. He's standing at your right, and this time you realize that he's looking at you in the face, looking for your gaze. When your eyes finally meet again, you can read a question that is answered with a nod of your head. 

You want this. You want this so bad. 

Franco's left hand caresses your hair first. His long fingers intertwine in your locks and for a moment you close your eyes to enjoy the innocent touch that, in a different situation, would get you to sleep. But the grip becomes a bit firmer and now he's tugging on it so your head can move to the side again, that way you can meet his eyes. As his hand leaves your head and travels to your soft cheek and then your lips, you don't stop looking at each other. 

A gasp leaves your throat when his thumb sits on your lower lip, and then he puts it inside your mouth, gently enough to give you time so you can reject him if you want. But you don't, you would never.

Soft lips wrap around his finger. Franco's reaction to the feeling of your tongue against the pad of his thumb in an almost imperceptible moan. The sound is low, coming out from the centre of his chest through gritted teeth, and it is the first time in the night that you feel some sort of pride fluttering inside you. The simple fact that he's reacting like this to the first physical contact with you is enough to make you act even bolder than before, and you keep sucking on his finger while looking him in the eyes. 

Franco smiles almost tenderly before the tone of his voice becomes twisted. 

“Who would've thought…” he mutters, still looking at you. “That you were such a desperate slut, huh?”

The sound you make in response to his words is almost inhuman. You're desperate and he can hear it in the tone of your moans, that are still muffled by his finger inside your mouth. 

“All these years…” he continues, voice feeling like velvet on your heated skin. “You were always such a good girl. Always the one to behave properly, wise beyond her years, or at least that's what all of them said, your family and mine… What would they think of you, (y/n)?” Franco asks, the mocking tone coming back. You squirm on the bed as you take his finger deeper and hollow your cheeks, imagining his cock in its place. 

“What would they think of you, (y/n)?” He presses on. This time, you look up at him. “If I told them about this. How I found you naked on your bed, fingers deep inside your soaked cunt while moaning my name like the fucking little whore you are. What would your family say? And mine? Should I let them know how much of a slut you're?”

You almost cry when he takes his finger off your mouth. 

“Answer me.” He commands. “Should I let everyone know?”

“If it pleases you.” You answer, voice sounding a little hoarse because of the previous activity in your throat. 

He smiles. 

“Is that what you want? To please me?”

You nod, fully conscious that you're making yourself look desperate- and actually you are. His mere presence, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne and the fact that he apparently wants you as much as you want him is enough for you. You're more than ready for him, for all of him, and Franco knows it. 

He knows it because it's written in you. All over the expression on your face and the way you open your legs for him when his right hand travels all the way down to your knee, and stays there, not moving back but neither further, torturing you silently. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Fran, I need you.”

It's funny, though. You're the one who's ready to please but you also are the one who begs. You've been actually begging him to touch you since the moment you saw him standing at the threshold.

Franco wishes you could read his mind and know that he's waited for this moment for a long time. He's wanted you since the moment you met, all those years ago. First, it was an innocent crush, that was all a child could offer, of course. But since you both grew into yourselves and he started to discover the world and other people- Franco had been with enough people to know that none of them could compare to you, even if he hadn't laid a hand on you yet. Something about you, about your aura, about the strong pull he felt towards you every single time you were in the same room, would assure him that nothing, no one, could compare to you. 

And now you're here, right in front of him, begging. The sound of your voice is almost haunting, like you're in deep pain. He could ask himself over and over again if this is the right thing to do, but in all honesty, he doesn't care about that. He only cares about you and the painful desire you make him feel even when he hasn't touched you properly yet. 

Besides, if you really need him as you say,  if you're in pain as you sound, who is he to deny you his help? Isn't he, after all, your best friend?

That thought is all he needs to vanish his worries to the darkest pit of his mind. 

“Are you really sure about this?” His voice cuts the silence once again. The eager nod coming from you makes him smile. “I need words, love.”

“Yes.” You answer almost too fast. “Please, Fran. Please. I can't wait anymore.”

He curses under his breath because he honestly can't believe it. He's amazed by your eagerness and so fucking turned on that he feels like he's going to cum right here and now. 

So, to avoid that, Franco doesn't waste any more time. Before you can blink twice, he's undoing his trousers and underwear, pulling them down as his hard cock springs out. You moan at the sight of it. Long and thick enough to make your mouth literally water, standing proud and impossibly hard against his shirt, almost staining the fabric with the precum that pools at the angry red tip. It's beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your cunt hurts with the anticipation of feeling it in you. 

After taking his shirt off, Franco's right hand travels down to his dick, grabbing it with a firm grip before pumping it a few times, smearing his own juices all over his length, which makes it look even more appetizing. 

You wait in your place on the bed, observing the small show of him touching himself for a few seconds until his right knee sinks on the mattress, right beside your shoulder. Then, his left hand goes to your hair, under your head, lifting it and adjusting it in the right way so the head of his dick is now right on your lips. He traces them with it, as if he were painting them. 

“So fucking perfect.” He whispers. In response, you let your tongue lick around the head of his dick, coaxing a deep moan out of him. The first contact with his skin is delicious but now you want more, so much more. And apparently he feels the same. 

“I'm gonna put it in your mouth. Is that okay, baby?” He asks. You make a sound that it's a mix between a whine and a moan as you nod for the hundredth time in the night. “Gonna suck my cock until I cum down your throat?” You almost jolt in excitement at that. “Yeah? You want my cum?”

Your answer sounds against the skin of his dick, which you keep licking. “Yes. Yes, please.”

That is the last thing you say for a few minutes, right before he presses the tip against your lips again and this time you open your mouth wide enough to take him in. The way Franco moans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth is pornographic and you thank the Gods for that, the fact that he's always so vocal about everything and this situation is not an exception. Actually, his moans are all the fuel you need to keep going. The taste of him too. Everything about him makes you take him deeper inside your mouth every time he pulls almost all the way back, fucking your face faster and harder as the minutes pass by. 

The grip on your hair becomes tighter as the sounds of your throat being fucked fill the room. You gag only two times, when he pushes all the way in and holds his dick in the deepest part of your throat he can reach, your nose pressed against him and saliva falling down your chin and neck. Every time he pulls out, you take a second or two to gather your breath but soon enough he's at it again, and you receive him without any complaint, relaxing your throat all you can as he keeps filling it over and over again. 

The intensity and pleasure of it all becomes almost unbearable and soon you're pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the almost literal pain you feel. Franco sees it, attentive to your body even though a great part of his mind is clouded with the sweet abandon of pleasure. So, for a few seconds, he eases the grip on your hair so you can start doing most of the work now, because his right hand travels from your knee to your inner thigh, and it isn't long until you can feel his fingers in your cunt. 

Both of you moan at the feeling. You, because the pressure of his fingers on your slit ease the pain you've been feeling; him, because you're so fucking wet that, when he starts massaging your clit, your juices are so abundant that the movements he makes leave a loud, squelching sound behind them.

“You're soaked.” He moans, still inside your mouth and touching you at the same time. “Is this because of me, love?” 

The answer is obvious to both of you, but you answer anyway, “Yes.” You say, a hoarse voice can barely be heard above the sounds of your cunt. “Yes, it's because of you. Always.” 

Franco smiles, “Do you always touch yourself while thinking of me?” You nod and this time he laughs. It doesn't make you feel bad because it isn't a mocking laugh, it's like he can't believe it. “Same. You have no idea how many times I've made a mess while thinking of you.” 

As his velvety voice keeps sounding in your ears, he keeps massaging your clit, faster as the seconds go by. 

“I've imagined you in every position.” He mutters. “I've made myself cum so many times, thinking of your sweet mouth and cunt wrapped around me, milking me as many times as we wish.” 

He's realized from the first moment that dirty talking is one of your weaknesses, and lucky you, he loves saying naughty things, so he keeps doing it as he massages your clit and smiles triumphant when your legs start trembling and you look at him with an expression on your face that he will never forget. Glassy eyes look up at him as your teeth sinks into your lower lip; your orgasm is close and everything about you says so. 

When you try to close your eyes, his hand immediately slows the pace on your clit. You frown. 

“What-?”

“You keep looking at me.” He commands. You want to yell at him, but his movements become fast again and the sweet pressure on your lower belly comes back. “You look me in the eyes as you cum or I won't do this again, you understand?” You nod. “Words, (y/n).”

“I- fuck, I understand!” You moan as his fingers keep working you on at an impossible pace. 

Not many seconds pass by until the first orgasm hits you hard. Your eyes are still on his; your entire body trembling as the most lewd sounds leave your throat. The simple act of having an orgasm while looking at those beautiful green eyes is enough to bring tears to yours. The pleasure is too overwhelming. 

When the best seconds of your life so far end, your body relaxes and Franco pulls both his hands away from you, letting you rest on the bed. The fingers that worked your clit are now in his own mouth as he sucks them clean. The sight makes you moan. 

“Delicious.” He says, coaxing a giggle out of you. “What?”

“You're crazy. And so fucking hot.”

Franco smiles and shrugs. 

“You know me.”

“Not like this, no.”

“Oh, this? This is nothing, love.”

You frown, “You gave me the best orgasm of my life by simply touching my clit and you call it nothing? It never felt like that before.” 

“I mean, it's not my fault that your previous lovers were fucking idiots.”

You smile.

“And you're what, some sort of sex God?”

“That I am.” 

A genuine laugh escapes your lips. You laugh at his smug words and at the entire situation. Everything is so- surreal, in a way. It's almost comical. But the sound dies in your throat when you realize the way he's looking at you. He's not mad or annoyed, he just looks like he's discovered something new in you, but if he did he doesn't say it out loud. 

Soon, when you've recovered from your orgasm, you realize that Franco's still standing by your side and his dick is still impossibly hard. You remember his previous words, about sucking him off until he's cumming down your throat, and you feel the fire inside you light up once again. Your right hand wraps around his dick without a warning and he hisses, but he doesn't pull you away, instead enjoying your ministrations. 

“Not right now.” He says after a minute or two, as if he's reading your mind. You're sure, though, that he's actually reading the expression on your face as you jerk him off. It's clear that you want him to cum. “Not like this, I won't last long.”

You stop. Then, looking into his eyes, you open your legs for him once again. 

“Come here, then.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. In an instant, he's standing at your feet; both hands reach behind your knees and they pull you towards him. 

In a silent agreement, both of you take your time to look at each other. He's lucky enough to have you like this- completely bare before him, body glistening with sweat due to the previous activities, pretty face with an expression of utter pleasure as you anticipate what's coming, unconsciously opening your legs further, letting him fully see you. You're out of this world, so beautiful that it almost hurts. And he isn't so far behind- you also think he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, with those eyes scanning every piece of you, his curls sticking to his forehead and, oh, such a pretty face. His body is something else too- the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, the shape of his arms, his hands. You take his hands in yours for a moment, squeezing them, praying this isn't the last time you feel them on you. 

You're both so mesmerized with each other that your bodies seem to move with their own consciousness, and that's why you share a loud moan when he enters you for the first time. 

It feels like nothing you've experienced before. You can't decide what is it that makes him so different from other people you've been with, but surely, there's something that makes Franco feel like heaven. He stays still for a few, long seconds because he's just realized that he penetrated you without warning and in a single movement, and even though it's obvious that you're ready enough to receive him, he doesn't want to hurt you. 

What he doesn't realise is that you're in pain once again because you need him to move and put an end to this feeling, this primitive need to have him just fucking you hard and deep. And that's what you finally ask from him, without shame, without guilt. 

“Please.” You beg once again. “Move. Please, move. I need to feel you.” 

You're sure you're about to cry but the tears get stuck in your eyes when Franco complies and starts moving his hips. It's slow at first, like he's testing the waters, but when the only thing you do is moan softly and writhe under him, crying for more, his hands leave yours and travel to your hips. Once he's sure his grip on your flesh is firm enough, he accelerates the pace, and starts pumping into you with a force that has you almost screaming. 

Soon you start moving your own hips, meeting him halfway and making the experience a thousand times better, if that's even possible. The feeling of his dick inside you, so fucking deep, is more than anything you've ever felt in your life. 

The room is filled with the sound of your skin against his, and the musky smell of sex intoxicates your senses. You've dreamed about this moment for so long that it feels surreal- his hands on your hips, his cock deep inside you and his eyes roaming the entirety of your body, all of it feels so out of this world and you love every second. You love it so much that you feel drunk with pleasure and something else that you can name yet. 

Franco grins at the sight of your eyes, glassy with tears that you're soon to shed. A deep feeling of pride fills his chest. 

“Look at you.” He taunts, never stopping his movements. “You were made for this, weren't you? You were made for my cock, for me.” 

You nod and moan, unable to form a full sentence as his pace becomes impossibly fast and hard- it's almost too much and the thought of asking him to slow down crosses your mind for a split second, until his hands travel up from their place on your hips to your breasts, and your brain almost shuts down. 

“Gonna enjoy these later, I promise.” He chuckles as his long fingers start kneading the flesh of your tits. When he pinches your nipples, the moan that leaves your throat is almost too much, but you don't care. It feels too good to hold back. 

You relish on the feeling of his fingers on your hard nipples until his right hand stops its ministrations to start roaming the skin of your left side, your waist, all the way back down to your hip and then- then you feel his fingers on your clit again, massaging it with expertise. You can't help but throw your head back as a deep moan leaves your throat. 

“Fuck, yes.” You moan, almost hysterical. “So good, so good- oh my-” 

Franco chuckles again and then says, in a mocking tone, “You're so dirty, (y/n). You really-” his words are suddenly interrupted by a strangled groan as you tighten your walls around him. Your warmth hugging his dick in a way that has him literally losing his balance and almost falling on top of you, and he would've crushed you if his arms weren't strong enough to keep him hovering over you.

His face contorted in an expression full of sheer pleasure, he looks so good with his eyes closed and mouth agape, desperately trying to hold the moans in. 

You're the one who chuckles this time. 

“Too good, huh?” You tease him, your cunt tightening around him once again. He groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Can't take it, baby? Too much for you?”

Franco moans again and then you hear him whisper.

“I'm gonna make you- you will pay for this.”

You giggle softly. 

“I think I'd like that.”

All resolve leaves him when you make your magic again. The feeling of your cunt hugging his dick so tightly is enough to make him lose his mind and almost all control. His movements become messier as they get faster, you feel him twitch inside you once, then twice. You hum at the feeling, caressing his back and nape, then intertwining your fingers with his messy, wet locks. 

“I'm close.” He moans, the sound muffled by your skin. 

“I know, baby. Come on, cum for me."

“You first.”

For a moment you think your words are enough, but apparently they aren't. In a second, Franco seems to take back control of the situation when he suddenly breaks away from your arms, kneeling in front of you just like before- his hard, throbbing dick still deep inside of you. You're about to ask him what's going on but then his long fingers are on your clit again, and you answer by throwing your head back in a loud moan. 

Franco keeps working on the most sensitive part of your body as he starts moving again, in and out, at a torturous pace that has you writhing on the bed. Your eyes fill with tears again and he smiles. 

“Cum for me, love.” He encourages through gritted teeth. You know he's holding his own orgasm back by fucking you slowly, and his will certainly impresses you. “Please, do it. Cum all around my cock.”

How would you deny him? When he looks so good fucking you, working on your clit like this isn't the first time. How would you deny him anything when this is all you've ever wanted?

So you let yourself go. Your second orgasm hits you harder than the previous one, sweet cunt gushing all around him, soaking him and the sheets below you. Your moans are almost pornographic and you feel him twitch inside you at the sound of them. 

In the electric explosion that takes over your entire body and mind, you feel him crawling back on top of you, like he was just minutes ago. His face hiding in your left shoulder again as his hips keep fucking into you aggressively, making your climax last longer than expected. 

“Look at me.” You moan in his ear and your body trembles with the sound of a deep groan coming as a response. After a few seconds of you repeating those words, he lifts his head to look at you, forehead pressed against yours. “Cum inside of me and don't stop looking at me as you do it.” 

He chews on his lower lip. 

“I-inside?” You nod as much as you can. “Fuck, (y/n).”

“Please, I need it.” You moan against his mouth, your eyes on his. “I need your cum.” 

That last sentence is accompanied by his name and the way you moan it's all it takes for him to finally let go. The sounds Franco makes when he's cumming deep inside of you are never going to leave your memory, and you wish, right here, now, that you have the opportunity to hear them again many times from tonight. The sight of him is beautiful too- brows furrowed, eyes desperately trying to stay open and that pretty mouth shaped in an O form. His cheeks are red and glistening with the sweat that's covering him, as well as the tip of his nose.

As he empties inside of you, you keep caressing his back, leaving goosebumps behind your touch. His skin shivers with the feeling, still making little sounds that will haunt you forever. 

He pumps into you two or three times more, still filling you with his release, that soon you start feeling overflowing your cunt, falling down your ass and on the sheets. You wonder if he always cums this hard, and the idea that he might not, that you're the only one that makes him feel like this, it's exciting. 

After some long seconds he stops moving his hips but is still buried deep inside of you. His face goes back to the crook of your neck for the second time and you smile as you feel his hot breath on your skin and then a kiss, then his teeth grazing the spot and sinking into it. 

“That's gonna leave a mark.” You moan. 

“Good.”

You stay like that for minutes that feel like hours, in each other's arms, your skin sticking to his due to the sweat that you both share but you couldn't care less. It feels too good, everything about it feels too good and none of you make an attempt to break away from the other. 

Franco knows, as well as you do, that this has been an event that will change everything forever. Some part of you is afraid of what comes next- a hundred questions flood your brain but the main one is the one that haunts you the most. Was this a one night stand? 

You're about to gather the courage to ask him when he lifts his head to look at you, forehead against yours again. You look him in the eyes and, for a moment, you think that the green in his gaze gives you the answer you so desperately need. But in case you needed confirmation, he decides to speak it out loud. 

“I wanna do it again.” He simply states, and you feel your chest full with happiness. “Like, forever. I really mean it.”

You giggle in response and you feel the tears that you've been holding back slowly falling down your cheeks. Franco kisses them away as soon as he notices them. 

“You liked it that much?” You ask as he keeps kissing your face. He stops for a moment to answer, his lips moving against your jaw. 

“Yeah. But I like you, all of you.” He says. “And I want you so much it hurts.”

“I want you, too.”

He smiles shortly before capturing your lips with his, and you realise that this is the first time you've ever kissed. People are supposed to kiss before having wild sex, but who cares?

All you care about is Franco and his pretty lips on yours, moving with such confidence and expertise that leave you breathless. You can feel everything in that kiss, it feels like he's trying to say all those things that he thinks it's too soon to say yet, but you answer him with the same intensity, making him tremble in your arms. 

His kiss says that he loves you too much to let you go, and you tell him that you feel the same.

a/n2: hope you liked it! pls let me know what you think ♥

[redwinelew]

SAVE YOUR TEARS

type written fic (no part 2 request pls)

pairing lewis hamilton x driver!reader

summary you need a distraction and your teammate is the perfect person for that

word count 3.7k

warnings 18+. smut. nsfw. porn with oh so little plot and even little feelings. unprotected sex. rough sex. emotional sex. prone bone then missionary (idk i tried), praise kink. hints of depression, self doubts etc etc idk lmk what i missed. english is not my first language.

author's note self-indulgent if u couldn't tell from the warnings. that's it. sorry.

masterlist

lewis didn't expect you to turn up in front of his hotel room tonight night, face wet with tears staining your cheeks, lips trembling as you held back a sob.

nor was he expecting you to ever utter these words to him.

"i need you to fuck me."

lewis' lips parted, unable to get any words out, too shocked by your sudden request. he has a million different questions appearing in his brain all at once. what the hell is happening? why are you crying? who did this to you? and why on god's green earth did you just ask him to— he couldn't even repeat it to himself. it didn't feel real, didn't even sound like you were asking. pleading, more like it, in pure desperation.

he calls your name softly, like he's trying to wake you up from a dream. his thick eyebrows tie together in confusion. "what are you—"

"please...." you cut him off, the last syllable getting more inaudible as it trails away. tears beginning to fill up your eyes again before they drop, reaching your jaw and fall to the floor.

lewis has never seen you like this, and he's pretty sure nobody else on the grid or the public did either. his teammate whom in his eyes, the one who always got her shit together. he's almost jealous at how composed you always presented yourself to be, on and off track, never letting any unwanted criticisms by fans or media from getting to you, always quick to shut them down cleverly. the last person anybody could ever take down, mentally.

then he realized, that he held you to such a high standard to the point where he had forgotten that you were still just a human. it's only a matter of time before you break and if lewis personally had his moments where he was at his lowest, he couldn't imagine being in your shoes right now.

everything immediately clicked for lewis right there and then. he had never invited a girl inside so fast, never undressed her so quickly.

"what's your safe word?" he asks, needing to know before he proceeds.

"pancake."

lewis nods. he was about to crash his lips against yours when you put your hand on his clothed chest to stop him firmly, almost clenching your hand on his shirt, head turn away slightly.

"no," you refused.

kissing means this would get personal. complicated. and you do not want complications in the future. this is not going to be a love-making session. this is going to be lewis fucking you hard until your eyes roll back and your vision turns white. until the thickness of his cock makes your hollow soul lights up again. until you feel alive from his hand around your throat.

nothing else.

and that's exactly what he's doing right now. no kissing. he immediately understood it from the minute you refused his lips, getting what this is going to be.

lewis' tattooed hand fists on your shirt hard as he avoids your lips and kisses your neck instead, finding those spots that make your knees buckle and focuses particularly on there. you remove his hair tie, and tangle your fingers with his braids. he groans, his hair a particular sensitive part on his body. his thick lips travel lower to lay kisses along your collarbone. no marks either, he doesn't need to be told that.

though for some reason he does not understand, it is suddenly quite hard to resist himself from leaving purple bites on your skin. not when he had someone like you in his arms whom he had found beautiful since the first time his eyes laid in you.

no, lewis tells himself silently. this is not about you. this is about her. she's struggling. there's a demon that she needs to defeat and she needs your help. so help her.

you find yourself walking in reverse as he advances towards you, before your back hits the soft mattress of his hotel bed.

"yes." you say, already breathless, letting him know this is exactly how you want it. no tip-toeing, no hesitation or being overly careful, because you trust him enough to know that he knows what he should and shouldn't do, or you wouldn't have knocked in his door. you might be mentally fragile, but not your body. you need him to get to work quickly, to get you out of the mess that is currently your mind right now. he doesn't need to be gentle, because all you desire is the exact opposite.

lewis does not respond. instead he takes off your shirt and bra, throwing them somewhere on his floor without caring where they land. you do the same with his. lewis climbs over you, leaving neither of you time to admire one another's half naked bodies. nothing to gawk over. this is not what you came here for and lewis was quick to understand that.

his lips were fast to attack your bare chest next. his tongue swirls over your nipple, coating it with his spit before sucking hard, creating sounds as lewd as your moans right now. he also groans silently, the vibration sending more waves of pleasure inside you. he lets you gather his braids to press his face harder on your breast while one of his hands went to grope on the other, flicking your already sensitive nipple before giving it the same attention with his tongue. your back arches, and you find yourself pressing both your thighs together, desperate for relief on your lower half.

he senses it and leaves your chest. he pulls down your pants next, then your panties. you catch the way he visibly swallows at the sight of your dripping pussy, his own cock starting to throb in need.

"tell me what you need," he asks breathlessly, his voice huskier than usual, making your walls clench around nothing.

"your fingers." you answer without hesitation. the rational part of your brain manages to slip through, making you wonder for a split second just what made you so bold tonight, demanding all sort of things you never even had the courage to ask anybody.

maybe it's demons in your head, the one you are desperate to get rid off so you are forcing yourself to do the absolute craziest, just to feel like your old self again.

lewis nods. part of him is still in disbelief over what is currently happening but he tries to leave it at the back of his head. you let him spread your legs with ease and he doesn't waste any time to slide his digit smoothly over your fold to gather your arousal, earning a sharp gasp from you. he spits on your cunt, his saliva mixes with your wetness before he pushes.

still he was careful, only using one finger for now. he's well aware of the thickness of his digits and not sure how much you can take if he immediately adds more.

"m-more." you're whimpering already and the sound goes straight to lewis' dick, forcing him to take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm his twitching cock.

but it's difficult. this is lewis hamilton, seven times formula 1 world champion. the greatest of all time. admire by billions. and yet when he has a pretty girl like you underneath him, at his mercy, your beautiful cunt clenching hard around his fingers, suddenly lewis is just a normal man. one who is not sure how much longer he can hold himself from claiming you all for himself.

lewis takes a deep breath. this is not about you, he tells himself again. you need to listen to her. give her what she needs. you can get any girl to come to your hotel room for fucking, and yet she only has you, the only man she clearly feels safe enough to ask of this.

"faster." you ask and lewis starts to deliver, pushing your legs apart even further before his hand picking up its pace, until the only sounds in the room are your ragged moans and the slickness of your cunt.

you are gorgeous. absolutely breathtaking, lewis thinks to himself. the way your face is flushed, sweat staining all over your face and neck. how your figure, hypnotizing as if it was blessed by aphrodite herself writhe underneath him, chasing that high. sinful moans and whimpers from your lips, enchanting his ears, making him curl his fingers until they find that one spot inside that makes you only whine louder, addicted into finding even more ways to earn those sounds from you. your legs part even wider as if not getting enough, silently begging for more than just his fingers.

"fuck...." lewis cannot help but groan. he sees the way your breath is getting shorter, more ragged. following his own impulses, lewis stops, withdrawing his hand from you.

you whine shamelessly at the sudden emptiness. you look up, watching lewis licking your arousal clean from his lips. the sight should be dirty, should make your pussy pulses in lust but instead your brain is protesting, head thrown back on the mattress in frustration. no, no, no, no, the brain says. you were far from reaching your peak since lewis had just started fingering you but you were at bliss at how preoccupied your mind was, having no room to think about anyting but his fingers inside you.

the insecurities starting to come back. the demon has gone back to work, playing in your ears and whispering doubts into you again.

maybe lewis is regretting this. he thinks you're sick in the head and he wants you to leave. he's going to tell the team—

"you're gonna come on my cock only."

oh—

oh.

you don't have time to be dumbfounded when lewis gets off the bed to remove his pants, eyes stay on yours. a hiss leaves his lips as he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his rock hard cock that already leaks with pre-cum while keeping his lustful gaze on you the entire time before he gets back to the bed to you.

your mouth almost waters at the visual. yes, you came to his hotel room, crying, begging him to fuck you. and yet it's unbelievable to see lewis like this. the champion, feared by the rest of the grid, respected by the whole wide world, is currently hard and throbbing in front of you. for you.

your cunt is wet again, pulsing around air thinking about just how he'd fit himself inside you but before you could do anything, he flips you flat onto your stomach. you yelp, caught off-guard by his sudden action. the mattress dips as his knees sink into it on either side of your body. he grabs his pillow before shoving it under your belly.

condom is on and when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance, you gasp silently, already gripping the sheets.

"we can stop if you want." he says, lowering his voice down to a softer tone, giving you a way out. he's willing to ignore the way his dick twitches, begging to be taken care of, if you desire to stop. but instead....

"n-no." you shake your head fast, voice shaky but with a hint of firmness behind it. "no, i don't want to stop. please."

"what do you need then? tell me exactly."

"i don't want to think. please, just— use me. i don't care. don't be gentle. i want it hard. i need it rough."

part of lewis regrets that he asked because holy fucking shit. sweet baby jesus. he doesn't recognize the sound that he makes, deep from his chest, filled with lust after hearing your dirty, desperate request.

on one hand, he's more than happy to fulfill your desire, knowing this is just going to be sex and nothing more. it's easier for the both of you in the future, knowing that this is a one time thing and absolutely no feelings would be involved.

but on the other hand, though lewis presents himself to the public and media as the calm and collected person you'd see on TV, but like every other man, he has his own wants and needs as well. and you have absolutely fucking idea what the hell you had just woken up inside him.

"fuck. fuck, you can't just fucking say that. you're fucking killing me, baby girl."

you moan at the nickname, then the volume becomes louder when you feel him pushing himself inside you slowly, one palm on a side of your head while the other is gripping your hip so fucking hard no doubt it'll bruised tomorrow.

you want it to bruise. and you know what you just asked of him. it's nothing like you had ever asked of a man before. to take you like a ragdoll for him to be used, to be toyed with whenever his please. to use you like you exist only and solely for his pleasure. because the thoughts that you are having about yourself are way worse. you want it to bruise, to hurt. you want to still be able to feel him for days. to have difficulties to walk so you will always be reminded of tonight. because at least your mind will be distracted from wandering to places you have been working so hard to avoid again.

lewis slides in easily but the stretch burns. you whine, fingers gripping the bedsheet tightly as you try to breathe properly in order to relax yourself so you can accommodate to his size, which is bigger than anyone you had ever taken. what he lacks in height, he certainly makes up for it in his length.

when he's fully inside, lewis gathers your hair before yanking it hard, making your neck arches back and you cry out. the pain in your scalp is weirdly delicious, combines with how he's making you feel so full having his dick deep inside, unmoving.

"say thank you." lewis demands, his tone no longer kind amd gentle like before, goosebumps prickle all over your skin. you never heard him using that kind of tone during work, never even imagine that he'd be the type to sound like that in bed. "thank me for fucking you."

"t-thank you."

"louder." he bottoms out before slamming into you hard, pulling a loud gasp from you.

"thank you!" you choke out.

lewis starts out slow at first, looking for the right pace. he remembers how you want it but he's not going to give it right away, out of care and of course pettiness.

but as he continues, he couldn't help but craving to hear more of those sweet bits of noises that you keep making. to hear the way your breath hitches at how he's filling you up to the brim, at how good he's fucking you.

lewis lowers his body, caging your body from behind but still careful not to crush you completely with his weight as his pace increases, ramming his cock inside you, his restraint getting thinner.

"take it. you want me to fuck you so bad? fucking take it. you asked for this." he grunts, and you whimper with no shame left in you. it's difficult to care, not when you could feel yourself getting dumber on his dick, which is exactly what you were asking for. and all this couldn't be more perfect.

lewis' movements grow harder, rougher by the minute. your moans mixed with his and the sound of his hips snapping against your ass echoes to the entire room. you wish you could be quiet, knowing that this whole hotel is rented by your entire team. but the way lewis is fucking you is making you do the exact opposite. you know he wouldn't want you to be quiet either, the mechanics be damned.

it's starting to be too much. nails digging into the bedsheet, you find your body inching forward. you are not sure if you are trying to run away or get closer to him but when lewis notices this, he grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. his teeth nibbles against a specific spot under your earlobe, pulling another whine out of you.

"you can take it. fuck— good girls take what they asked for. you can do it."

your cunt somehow gets even wetter with his filthy words, at how his accent thickens, voice gets deeper and more hoarse. your pussy shouldn't be squeezing around his dick at his praises, but it did. and the grunts he lets out making it all worth it.

when he hits that sweet spot inside you that no other man has ever quite managed to find, your eyes roll back in ecstasy. you gasp, tears starting to fall again at the sweet pleasure you're experiencing.

the sex is perfect, you know lewis wouldn't disappoint. but your demon is back, suddenly haunting you and making you feel terrible about yourself again.

"what the hell do you think you're doing? oh, that's right. you wasn't. you aren't. you're just a dumb bitch making herself even dumber on this pathetic cock. if only you could see yourself. absolutely shameless. what a whore. begging for this man to fuck you like you never seen a dick before. nothing will ever be the same ever again. he will never look you in the eyes, he'll think of you differently. why didn't you just—"

lewis suddenly stops.

the voices do too, and you are left in confusion. his grip on your wrist is gone now and you didn't even notice. you turn your head, only to see him pulling out.

no. oh, no. no, no, no. the voices were right. he's pulling away. he's regretting this. he's gonna ask you to leave, isn't he?

"can i turn you on your back?" he asks instead.

silence from you for a few seconds before you let out a quiet "what?" before lying on your back on your own. you remove the pillow from under your belly and set it aside.

"you were crying." he points out, brows furrowing as a shadow of concern illuminating his handsome face.

you swallow. you were hoping he wouldn't notice and even if he did, he'd thought that it was because you were enjoying yourself this. the fact that he knows it was the opposite tells you that he knows there are million different things running in your mind right now and you hate it.

"y-yeah but it wasn't— not because of you."

pause. "you want me to slow down?"

again, you shake your head fast.

"i'm okay. please." you hate how quickly you beg for him again.

it's lewis' turn to swallow, his eyes darken slightly at your pleading. he nods before crawling back to you, determined to pick up where he left off, trusting that you will know what to say if you truly desire for him to stop completely.

he grabs one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist before bringing the other to his shoulder. you bite your lip at the way his gaze never wavers from you, making you wonder if he fucks every other girls like this.

no. fuck. stop it. why do you even care?

lewis takes his dick before burying himself inside you once more slightly easier this time. you can't help but moan and thanking him again.

he is slow again at first but it isn't long before his cock slams back at the perfect pace, the sound of skin against skin once again filling up this suite. your whimper mixed with his hisses when you claw on his tattooed back, pulling him closer.

lewis leaves kisses all over your leg, wherever he could reach before his hand sneaks up to fiddle and squeeze your bouncing tits.

you didn't expect him to wipe your tears next.

your eyes locked with his. he continues fucking you but it feels as if time has stopped. he has that look behind the lust that screams sympathy. pity. you hate it but at the same you don't push his hand away, letting him cup your face momentarily. but even lewis doesn't let this gesture happens for too long, always remembering the point of having you underneath him.

it doesn't take long until you feel an invisible knot in your lower belly. you're panting now, almost reaching your peak. lewis realizes this and he fucks you harder, his hand travels down to rub your clit.

"i'm—"

"i know, sweetie," he says, breathless as well. he lowers his body, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and kissing it all over as he feels his own orgasm nearing. "come for me."

a few more thrusts, and you see white. your mouth is agape as you moan silently. his grunt and groans is music to your ears as he spills himself inside the condom.

silence.

lewis never realized how much he needed this as well. not just the sex, but the connection, which he knows is insane to find with someone like you in circumstances like this but what just happened felt different. to be so close with someone he actually knows and not just another girl he calls to his room, not even bother to learn her name.

before he could gather his breath, he feels your body underneath him slipping out. his eyes feels heavy but he tries to hold on, watching you collecting your clothes and dressing back up.

"what are you—"

"that was really great. thank you." was all you said before you left, in a hurry like you refuse to spend another minute in the same room with lewis.

while the man is still on the bed, naked. he hasn't even removed his condom yet. a sigh escapes his lips, lying flat on the bed before staring at the white ceiling.

he did what you asked for, and he could only hope that you would feel better tomorrow morning.

and yet why does his heart suddenly aches, not having you in his arms anymore?

[organic-bloodbath]

Hi, I apologize in advance for any mistakes, English is not my native language.. I like the way you write. may I ask salesman and his wife. A semi-nswf story about his wife saying the safe word in the process? A little fluff and comfort 👉👈 If you don't write this, then I'm sorry, have a nice day

Pumpkin

Salesman x Wife!Reader

Summary: As above.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut -> minors get tf out

A/N: This is a little shorter than my usual fics i think. He might be a hot psycho with others, but he's a total softie with his wife ❤️💙

"Pumpkin," you gasped quickly. "Oh, fuck, Pumpkin!" He immediately stopped and looked at you with a concerned look on his face.

♡♡

He was thrusting in and out of you with as fast pace as he was able to, pinning your hands above your head.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked quietly and let go of your wrists, cupping your face with his hand. "Was i being too rough? Did i hurt you?"

"It just," you panted. "It was becoming too much to handle."

"Do you want to stop? We can end this here if you need to."

"No, no," you hurried to say before he managed to pull himself out of you. "Just, a little slower, okay?"

"You sure you want to continue?"

"Yes, please," you nodded and kissed his lips. "Can we switch?"

He lifted his eyebrow but moved to lay next to you on his back. You were almost always the bottom, so he was surprised by your request, though wasn't against it at all. You sat on top of him, burying his cock back inside you, soft moan escaping your lips as you sat down. You put your hands on his chest, and he grabbed the side of your thighs, helping you move your hips back and forth at a right pace.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying every inch of him inside you, nails digging on his chest.

"My god, you feel good," he gasped. He didn't close his eyes, unlike you, only looked at your gorgeous figure as you moved on him on a little faster speed now.

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist as you kept moving up and down on him. He started peppering kissed on your neck and along your collarbone, sucking marks on your skin on exactly the right spots. You slid your hand in his hair, pressing on the back of his head and gently massaging his scalp.

He brought his face up and took you in a rough kiss. As you let out a deep moan, his tongue found its way inside your mouth. You were starting to get tired, and he seemed to notice it by your slower movements now. He put his hands firmly on your ass, helping you move better.

"Oh my god, i'm so close," you whimpered, breath hot against his face.

"Come for me, baby," he muttered, locking eyes with you.

Soon after, you felt pleasure waving through your entire body like sparks of electricity. Both of you were complete moaning messes in the end, until he collapsed back on the mattress, pulling you with him, his arms tightly around your back. You were panting hard and he brushed your hair with his fingers as you laid on top of him, not able to move a muscle for a moment.

"You were amazing, honey," he whispered and planted a kiss on your temple.

"You too," you said quietly, completely out of energy and breath.

"I love you," he whispered and pressed his chin on top of your head. "I'm sorry if i hurt you."

You turned your head upwards, looking directly in his eyes. "I'm alright, don't worry." You pressed a short kiss on his lips, causing a small smile to spread on his face.

"You sure?" he repeated with furrowed brows, looking concerned.

"I'm good, honey."

"Good. I'll go and make us a hot bath," he said and got up. You pouted a little when he rolled you away from him and left you to lay there alone.

You stayed lying on the bed, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. He always had a bath with you after you'd had sex, every single time, unless you didn't have much time left to spend together. That was usually if he had to leave for work soon, but tonight he was all yours. Even if you would be left alone, he would still prepare a bath for you.

It would take a while until the bath was going to be ready, so you took your phone from the bedside table and noticed a few messages you had received.

Jae: "i'm NEVER again going to a blind date."

Jae: "call me asap i gotta talk."

Mom ♡: "Did you ask your father about the plans next weekend?"

Mi-hee: "i got the day off, wanna do something on sunday?"

You managed to answer to two of the texts, not having the time to deal with Jae right now, and then only stared at the ceiling, slowly gathering your energy back.

Sooner than you expected, your husband came back and you put your phone back to the bedside table.

"Come on, the bath's ready."

"Carry me." You bit your lip. "Pretty please."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled and took you into his arms, bridal style. "How could i ever say 'no' to you?"

You had been married for the past 7 years but it felt much less, like you were forever stuck in your honeymoon phase.

When you reached the bathroom, he gently let you down to stand on the soft bathroom rug instead of the cold tiles. You noticed that he had poured you two glasses of red wine.

He went into the water first, you right after. You leaned your back against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist. You let your head fall on the crook of his neck. The water was warm, and you knew you could fall asleep in his embrace right there and then if you closed your eyes any longer than a few seconds.

"Darling?" he said softly after a short silence and rubbed your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"Would you be ready to... try again?"

You knew what he meant. You had waited for him to start this conversation again, but was also afraid of it.

"Really? You want that?" You turned your head to look at him, and he was looking down at you.

"Of course," he said. "But only if you're ready for it."

Both of you wanted to build a family and have a kid or two. You had been pregnant once, but miscarried your baby couple of years ago on your second trimester. After coming home from the hospital, you had been a total wreck for weeks, even months, and felt like you could never have children, even though it wasn't true, and it would be too scary to try again.

"I mean," you mumbled. "Can i be honest?"

"I want you to always be honest with me," he insisted and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"I'm just," you started, trying to find the correct word. "Scared."

He pressed a kiss on your temple. "I know. I'm scared too, but it could work out this time, you know."

"What if it doesn't?" you asked, brows furrowed. "I don't think i can handle that a second time."

"If anything bad happens, i'll be here for you on every step," he promised.

You didn't say anything and looked away from him. To be honest, you had thought about trying to get pregnant again, but you felt like you had lost all hope in that area. You knew women could experience miscarriage many times and eventually give birth to a healthy baby, but you didn't have the strength for that.

"Should we go to a doctor first?" you asked, feeling nervous. "You know, to see if i have any problems getting pregnant and with pregnancy overall."

"I can book an appointment if you'd like," he smiled.

"Okay."

♡♡

A/N: I wrote this rather fast but hope it turned out okay. I'm trying to get another part for the Ddakji series but struggling to figure out where the story goes so it'll take a while 👉🏻👈🏻

[folkwhoreberry]

Amongst Demigods

Flirting With Fate

f1 x reader

or... the one where there are five ways to steal a heart

word count : 999

warning : suggestive jokes, english is not my first language!!!

check masterlist for more parts of this series!!

🏛️🏎️

weeks had passed since you’ve first stepped foot in camp half-blood, and you were starting to feel more settled.

you weren’t sure when it happened, but the chaos of the hermes cabin, the intensity of training, and the never-ending questions about your godly parent had become… normal. what you didn’t expect was the new kind of chaos - one involving a certain group of demigods who seemed to always be around.

——————

lando was the first. you weren’t sure how it happened, but the two of you had started spending a lot of time together. it started innocently enough: races by the lake, where he always insisted he was faster because of his sea legs, which you told him wasn’t a thing.

“come on, admit it,” he’d say, grinning as he caught up to you after another race, “you just like the view.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat every time he flashed that smile. “sure, the view of you eating my dust.”

“oh, dust is it now? I was more thinking of you checking out-“

“shut up, lando.”

he’d laugh, but it was never mean-spirited. you’d end up sitting by the water afterward, legs dangling into the cool lake, talking about everything from your messed-up childhoods to how he still couldn’t swim properly, despite being the son of poseidon. you weren’t really sure what you were, but lando had a way of pulling you in, making you forget everything else.

——————

then, there was charles. sweet, golden, frustratingly perfect charles. he was a natural charmer, but not in the way you’d expect from a son of apollo. he’d always find you after archery practice, usually while you were nursing another terrible shot.

“need help?” he’d ask, leaning against the target, his bow slung lazily over his shoulder.

“if I say yes, will you stop being so smug about it?” you quipped, though you always accepted his help.

he’d stand close behind you, his hands gently guiding yours, his breath warm against your ear as he gave tips.

“just relax, focus on the target, and let go when you feel it’s right.”

you’d let go, but the arrow almost never hit the target.

“I think you’re distracting me,” you muttered one day after yet another failed shot.

“maybe I am,” he replied, a playful smirk on his lips.

you laughed it off, but it was hard to ignore the way your pulse quickened whenever charles was around. he had a way of looking at you, like you were the only person in camp, even when you were surrounded by people.

——————

oscar was different. quiet, thoughtful, but somehow always knowing exactly what to say when you were feeling overwhelmed. you’d started to catch him watching you during lessons, his eyes following you with a sort of quiet curiosity.

“what?” you’d ask, after catching him staring one too many times.

“nothing, just… you’re interesting.”

“interesting how?”

he’d just smile, shrugging as if he wasn’t going to answer, but there was always something behind that smile that made you wonder what he was thinking. the two of you had started to spend more time together, mostly during strategy lessons or sparring sessions, where he was always more tactical than aggressive. it was different with oscar. where lando was playful and charles charming, oscar made you feel like he saw you, like there was something more between the lines.

——————

daniel, though - daniel was chaos. pure, unfiltered, ares-born chaos. he had a way of turning every situation into a joke, a flirtation, a game.

“you know,” he said one day, tossing you a sword during practice, “there’s something about watching you swing a sword that’s…”

“don’t even finish that sentence,” you warned, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“what? it’s impressive! who knew you could be so… deadly?” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you almost dropped the sword from laughing too hard.

but then, daniel would catch you off guard. in between the jokes and teasing, there were moments where he’d be serious, like after a particularly hard fight when you were frustrated and ready to quit. he’d walk up, offering you a hand, his usual grin softened.

“you’ve got this,” he’d say, no jokes, no teasing. just simple, genuine support.

it was those moments that made you wonder if there was more to daniel than the laughter and flirting.

——————

and then… franco. he was the wildcard, the son of eros who always seemed to know just what to say to get under your skin - in the best way. he’d drop by during meals, sliding into the seat next to you with that infuriatingly charming smile.

“hey,” he’d say, his voice soft but with a teasing edge, “have you always been this gorgeous, or is it just today?”

“franco,” you’d groan, rolling your eyes, but he’d just laugh, leaning in a little closer.

“what? I’m just saying, the gods clearly have a favorite.”

he had a way of making you feel special, even when you didn’t want to admit it. there was something about him, something that made your heart race when he got too close, his hand brushing yours in the most casual, accidental way possible.

“you’re impossible,” you’d tell him one day, after he’d successfully distracted you from an entire lesson just by sitting too close.

“impossible to resist, maybe,” he shot back, his grin wide as ever.

“ugh, franco.”

he’d laugh, but there was a tenderness behind his playful words, a softness that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t all games after all.

——————

and so, here you were - caught in the middle of this strange, confusing, and slightly chaotic situation with lando, charles, oscar, daniel, and franco, each of them pulling you in different directions, each with their own way of making you feel something more than just a friend.

you weren’t sure how it happened, but something was definitely happening.

————————————————————————————

@briefkittenearthquake @colpenter

a/n : wrote this during three five minute drives and lunch where I didn’t eat nothing bc fuck tummy ache🫶🏻

[xmintpiex]

The Bullet Point

wc: 3,721

Marriage and everything else that came with it were part of your dream. Not Sae's.

content: Sae Itoshi x fem!reader, sfw, sunshine!reader (she's def over the top), fluff, romance, childhood friends, shoujo inspired (specifically itazura na kiss), silly. AU.

The idea had sounded absolutely perfect when Mrs. Itoshi brought it up, the certainty in her voice, that twinkle in her eyes. Rin seemed to be all settled in his apartment now, and your dad had plenty of helping hands at his bakery. It was the perfect time to carry out the plan you had been dreaming about, tossing and turning and giggling with excitement late at night about for years now.

The plan, that dream that kept you going even when things got hard, when you felt sad and alone. The plan that Mrs. Itoshi fully supported you in, always coming up with the most brilliant ideas to add, Mr. Itoshi speaking up gently to maybe make them a little more realistic. The one that Rin would roll his eyes at and call you stupid over (he was just jealous! hmmph!). The one that your dad would shake his head fondly at, with amusement and that subtle pride in his smile.

Words written down in your old childhood diary, circled and doodled around, the page covered with hearts and stickers and the sign of age, yet still just as true.

So you bought that long one-way plane ticket from Japan to Spain that same day, spirits high and determination unbreakable. After all, Sae was all alone in that foreign land, left to fend for himself for so many years, you couldn't bear to leave him like that anymore! Now you finally had the chance to be there with him! Yes, that’s right, you would be there to cook his favorite meals (..the ones that fit his highly selected meal plan anyways..), make sure his luxury apartment wasn't just a house but a home (cozy pillows, photos, and matching toothbrush holders and so much more!), and cheer him on during each and every one of his games, in person now!

Your smile was still so bright as you somehow managed to hail a taxi driver at the airport with a mixture of your nonexistent Spanish and incredibly poor English (..perhaps you should have studied a little more...) and showed them the address that you had saved on your phone for months. The address that was memorized by heart, the one that you had already sent a plethora of letters and care packages to.

Your eyes were dazzling as you got out of the cab and stood in front of that sleek, beautiful apartment complex that Sae was residing in. You could hear your heart beating so fast at the thought of finally being able to see Sae after 4 months of being apart, and that this time it would be permanent, it wouldn’t be just another short visit. The apartment no longer just the photo pinned to your bedroom wall, your dreams no longer only confined to the touch of the glossy paper and magazine cutouts beneath your fingertips.

It was only when you got that panicked phone call from Mrs. Itoshi, as you were trying and failing to get the apartment complex’s security guard to let you in that your bright smile diminished a bit. Because Sae was not currently in Spain. He was in Germany, as was Rin, and would be there for at least a month due to some football event he had joined.

The twinkle in your eyes seemed to die a bit and your smile became so much smaller as you came to the sudden realization that you were in a foreign country, two large heavy suitcases at your side, with no understanding of the language and no place to stay. You sank to the ground, hugging your knees as you inhaled heavily to hold back your tears as fear clouded your thoughts.

But!

You would be okay because you had the power of a credit card! And just like that, you popped right back up, your determination burning brighter than the scorching sun above you (the young security guard might have been looking at you with a look of utmost fear, but that didn't really matter right now).

So you decided to go for a little walk around the neighborhood, taking in the fresh crisp ocean breeze, the sound of distant seagulls and crashing waves soothing your worries. Stopping for a delicious lunch at that cute little restaurant you spotted (giggling to yourself as you pictured eating there with Sae next time, oh so romantic!), noticing a cute little storefront that seemed to have been recently sold (perfect for a bakery you mused dreamily) before you managed to get another taxi to take you right back to the airport.

You miss how the security guard of Sae’s apartment complex so desperately tried to wave you back over, his black cell phone pressed to one of his ears as you excitedly looked at your trip itinerary for Germany in the back seat of the taxi.

The first thing Eita Otoya notices about you is your cute, sunny smile as he sits down next to you on the crowded plane and your excitement and relief at the realization that he also speaks Japanese. The second thing he notices is that dainty rose gold ring around your finger, twisted and dotted with little white diamonds, reminiscent of ocean waves in the sunset. It looks vaguely familiar, a small tickle in the back of his head that he can’t quite pinpoint. He assumes it must be some trendy designer jewelry piece he saw somewhere like that overly expensive bracelet that so many of his ex-girlfriends had wanted him to buy.

The third thing he notices about you is your soft, sparkly eyes, the light flush of your cheeks when he asks you if you have a boyfriend (he’s learned the hard way to always ask that question), and how you bashfully shake your head ‘no’. How cute. He assumes he’s in the clear then, to have you be his friend for a bit while he stays in Berlin, he’s already picturing taking you out to restaurants, enjoying a good meal together, having you cheer him on, and a bunch of other things with a cute girl like you at his side.

Eita Otoya does not notice the bubble of giddy laughter that is barely contained behind your bright smile, that far-off, dreamy look in your eyes after he had mentioned the term boyfriend. Because you definitely did not have a boyfriend.

Not anymore!

Rin Itoshi is already feeling a migraine forming from the grueling experience of having to sit between his two most obnoxious teammates on that 2-hour plane trip from Paris. He thinks he’s officially lost it, that he’s seeing hallucinations now because he swears he sees your dumb smiling face in the goddamn Berlin airport. Impossible. There's no way, even you aren't stupid enough to plan something like this, right?

…

Right?

…

Sae Itoshi’s manager thinks today is the day he will die. If not from the extreme levels of stress he is currently experiencing, it will be from Sae Itoshi’s cold wrath. The poor man is sweating, his normally pristine suit rumpled and drenched, sleeves rolled up, glasses sliding off his damp face as he has his phone pressed to his ear, laptop open as he desperately scrolls through credit card transactions and airline information.

Sae is still in the midst of his interview, answering bluntly and clinically in his typical manner yet his words seem even more curt than normal. Left foot subtly bouncing, hands locked together, cold teal eyes glancing back to his frantic manager between questions.

Immediately taking his phone out of his pocket the moment the cameras are turned off and everyone is packing up. Jaw clenching when the number he calls leads straight to voicemail.

It’s not until you’re at the hotel lobby (Otoya-kun's suggestion, oh he's so nice, you're so happy you made a new friend!), taking out your card to pay for your hotel room, it finally dawns on Otoya about where exactly he had seen your ring before. His eyes zeroing in on that very, very familiar name printed on the credit card in your hands.

Oh.

(Ninja Art: Strategic Exit)

You're done paying for your hotel room, excited to finally put your suitcases somewhere and then go eat at that amazing restaurant Otoya kept mentioning, turning to face him only to find him nowhere to be found. Brows furrowed and lips pouting in concern and confusion as you look around the hotel lobby, trying to figure out where your new friend could have gone.

"You."

That familiar voice, the one that you could recognize with your eyes closed, the one you sometimes fall asleep to while on facetime with. The voice engrained into your heart. Monotone and cold yet anything but (especially right now). Your smile is the brightest it's been all day, the brightest it's been in months really, suitcases and hunger and exhaustion (and Otoya-kun's mysterious disappearance) all forgotten from your mind as you rush over to him, flinging your arms around him.

"Sae!"

Your heart so warm, beating so brightly, so bubbly like your favorite fizzy candy. A feeling you've always felt with Sae.

Like when you were 6 and you dropped your ice cream cone.

You’re in absolute shock, ready to cry yet again and Sae does not want to deal with that again, he doesn't like it when you cry. You've had too many things to cry about recently, but at least this situation is something he can try to control. So he shoves his own ice cream cone into your hand, hoping that’ll be enough. It’s something he’s used to doing for his younger brother, just the most effective way to stop your nearly endless tears. Another crybaby in his life to take care of. Your small hands linked together as you walk around the neighborhood park, your shimmering eyes glued to him.

Or when you’re 8 and you and your dad and the Itoshi family go out for your weekly movie night.

An established ritual of going to see a movie together with reservations ready at that yummy restaurant later, something your families have done ever since you could remember. The movie was your choice this time, a story of a mermaid becoming a human princess and living in a seaside castle with her adorable sea creature friends and her beloved prince, fixing all their problems with the power of love and friendship.

Your eyes barely left the movie screen as they dazzled in excitement at how the mermaid princess and her human prince danced and spun around on that beautiful balcony overlooking the ocean. The warmth in your heart and the little tears of happiness that bubbled in your eyes as the prince and the mermaid got married.

You still weren’t too sure what marriage was, all you knew was that it meant you could sleep in the same bedroom like Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi did, that you would love each other forever, make each other happy forever, even if you couldn’t see each other (like how your dad visited your mama every year, a fresh flower bouquet, warm glossy eyes, and soft smiles). An endless playdate with your favorite person in the whole universe, always happy and together!

That was what you wanted, that was what you dreamed of. So you declared during dinner, a little too loudly in the quiet restaurant, that you had a dream of what you wanted to do as an adult. Clumsily standing up from your seat, nearly tipping your water cup over, face scrunched and rosy with determination and courage and too much soda.

Your declaration that you and Sae would get married when you were older and live in a seaside castle just like in the movie and live together forever and ever (and become mermaids and other such crucial details). Your small warm hand had gently grabbed Sae’s hand during your declaration and his teal colored eyes bore down at where your hands were linked. “Okay.” He had simply said in that monotone voice.

Your dad and Mr. Itoshi looked at you wide-eyed before laughing heartily, your dad reaching over to ruffle your head. Mrs. Itoshi nodded enthusiastically, overwhelmed by your absolute cuteness as she sniffled proudly, already calling you her precious, adorable daughter-in-law, already envisioning and planning a grand wedding as Mr. Itoshi gently rubbed her shoulder in hopes she wouldn't make this even more of a scene.

Rin grumbled and huffed and told you that was stupid, that something like that was impossible and even if it were, Sae wouldn’t live in some stupid seaside castle! His big brother would live in a football stadium with him, the two of them the #1 and #2 best strikers in the whole entire world!

You were pouty and your eyes full of tears, like the little crybaby you were as you bickered with Rin (h-how dare he! You were older! Hmmph! Why did he never listen to you as he did with Sae!). Sae was silent through the whole thing, still chewing on his bite of pasta, quiet as he usually was when the two of you harmlessly fought over him, his free hand still in your grasp. Until finally cutting in.

"We can do both."

Rin eventually agrees that you can have your castle across from their football stadium and that you can host your tea parties to celebrate every single game they will win. You reluctantly pout back that he can be a mermaid too and have sleepovers in your castle…if he listens to whatever you say!

Amongst the laughter and chatter and the sound of Mrs. Itoshi’s camera, as she forever immortalized this moment, Sae Itoshi added another minor detail to that small list of bullet points he kept in his head.

It’s when you’re 10 and you’ve made your first batch of homemade cookies all by yourself without the help of your dad (aside from helping you with the oven stuff).

Your fingers are a little burnt (and so are the cookies), but your eyes are sparkling, smile bright and hopeful as you rush off skipping to the neighborhood park to meet up with Sae and Rin, holding the little red cookie tin to your chest.

"They taste burnt."

Sae says matter-of-factly after a bite, chewing slowly as if that would help him make a proper critique.

"Yeah, they're burnt! Bleh! Burnt!"

Of course, Rin mimicking him before adding his own little flair.

Your lip wobbling, lashes fluttering slowly, eyes getting hot and wet with tears.

Sae reaching into the little tin for another one and then another until they're all gone, eating each one despite your tearful, pouty whines.

"They're not bad. Just keep making them, I'll eat all of them."

It's when you’re 13 and Sae is leaving.

Leaving to go live in a whole other country, away from you. Your tears are large and already seeping into Sae’s brand-new jersey as you wish and whine so badly that you could go with him. He’s quiet, and calm, telling you to stop being a big baby, saying he’ll be back for a visit in a few months probably. His hand in yours, a subtle squeeze, as his other hand gently pinches your pouty lips. You'll be good for him, right?

A little moment of hesitation before he suddenly leans in, cheeks just as red as yours, his lips clumsy and quick, a sweet little press against yours. Your eyes on him, wide and bubbly, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Your lips wobbling as you attempt to pucker them, looking up at him expectantly in hopes he will do it again.

He lets out that rare little noise you adore, that soft chuckle, the corner of his lips slightly upturned, only your silly face in his teal eyes. He leans in and you perk up excitedly, wanting to make sure your second kiss is perfect, longer, closing your eyes, hands trembling.

Only for him to pinch your lips again with his fingers.

"Crybabies don't get second kisses unless they're good."

And when you’re 14 and Sae is visiting for a few days.

It’s a cold winter day, full of fluffy white snow and you’re bundled up tight in the red scarf that Mrs. Itoshi gifted you. It’s just the two of you because Rin refuses to leave his room (he’s been in a really bad mood recently, you're still figuring out how to cheer him up..both of them up).

The two of you walk around the park as the snow falls, Sae is quiet, even more than normal, as you point things out or tell him about some of the things that have happened while he was gone. Your gloved hands are entwined, as always when the two of you walk. His hand feels different, a little bigger, a little thinner, a little more rough, just like the rest of him. His teal eyes are dull, trained on the snowy path you walk, before settling onto your obnoxious beaming smile, the flush of your cheeks, the way he looks reflected in your eyes.

Pulling him to go sit on a snowy bench before taking out that familiar old cookie tin, full to the brim of sugar cookies, sprinkled with red and blue sprinkles, edges a little cracked.

"I'm on a diet, you know."

Yet he's reaching for one, pressing the allegedly "heart-shaped" cookie to his lips and taking a slow bite. Your eyes watching every little moment of his mouth, your heart beating nervously and your gloved hands fisted with nervousness.

"Better than last time."

Your smile too bright, it could rival the sun.

He reaches for another only to be tugged down, his lips unceremoniously pressed against yours, too sudden, your nose nearly hitting his. Crumbs still on his lips, now on yours. Sweet like vanilla and butter.

So perfect.

It’s when you’re 16, having another one of your long-distance phone calls.

You babble endlessly as always, phone pressed to your ear as your legs sway back and forth as you lay on your plushie-covered bed. Sae, as usual, is mainly silent as he continues with his gym routine, responding with an occasional grunt or ‘hmm’ as you go on and on. His ears full of nothing except the clinking of gym equipment and your loud, cheery voice. You mention your new friend who you’re going to the movies with this weekend, the boy at your school who offered you his umbrella on a rainy day (so kind!), and who always wants to eat lunch with you.

"Didn't you fail your math test? Don't waste your time on stupid things like that and study instead."

"..S-Sae!!" (As usual…he was right.)

A few days later you receive a small package from Spain, sent via express mail, a little silver ring, and a simple four-word note.“Do not take off.”

You're ecstatic, showing off to everyone who will listen (and Rin of course). Spamming Sae's messages with way too many selfies. Your hand and that sparkling little ring the main focus in all of them, receiving nothing back but that little 'read' indication and a single "go study" message.

It's when you're 17, sat at the Itoshi's kitchen table.

Going through the recent sports magazine that Sae graced the cover of, your handy scissors at your side as you happily recount Sae's most recent interview to those present.

(Your smile too wide as you trace over that familiar silver ring that's hung around his neck, barely visible under his jersey, fingertips against the cold, glossy paper.)

Rin with his arms crossed and trying to look as disinterested as possible while Mrs. Itoshi happily nods from where she's typing away at her work laptop. But you give Rin that smile that always makes him huff, nervous at whatever dumb thing you're going to do now, seeing him twitch and try to hide his flustered look as you produce a second magazine of the same issue, still in its plastic wrap.

"This way you can cut out Sae's pictures and have them on your wall too! Let's make dream boards together, Rin!"

"S-shut up!"

It's right now, settled in the back seat of the car as the driver drives the two of you back to where Sae is staying, your head on Sae's shoulder.

You're already fast asleep, your exhaustion, the happiness of your heart catching up with you (and the jet lag). Hands entwined. Matching wedding rings glowing under the bright passing city lights, the softness of the moon.

His phone is silenced, lighting up for a moment, the notification of his new interview being posted, before the screen fades back to darkness, tucked away in his bag next to that red cookie tin you had excitedly taken out of your suitcase. For now, the interview was irrelevant, forgotten in the midst of your peaceful snores, his soft, amused smile.

But in the morning, when Sae was already well into his morning routine, you would be cozy and warm and still so sleepy under the silky covers. He would then take the time, sat at the small hotel room patio with his kombucha, to skim over his interview.

'Sae Itoshi Confirms Marriage Rumors.'

He knew that once you woke up, once your sleepy, jet-lagged state gave way to your usual bubbly energy, you'd be over the moon. Squealing and giggling and saying how you needed to save the article in your scrapbook. Nearly jumping on him as you showered him in too much affection, messy little kisses, and cheeks pressed together. Undeniable proof of your dream coming true, solid like that ring around your finger, like the marriage certificate framed back in the apartment in Spain.

Your dream.

But not Sae's.

Because for Sae, marriage was not a dream, not some goal he would eventually achieve when he deemed it time. It had never been any of that. You and your overly burning love, your too-radiant smiles and laughter, your crybaby tears, your warm hugs, and noisy kisses, and sweet sugar cookies were just truths. Undeniable facts in his life. Your presence in his life, your relationship never a dream, never a goal, never a checkmark, but a bullet point. A bullet point on that little list of things that were fundamental to Sae Itoshi's life.

[writinandcrying]

How does the 2003 turtles react to crushes - part 1

Just a little thing cuz I miss writing, i miss tmnt and I haven’t got the time to do a full one shot or mashup in MONTHS 😔, I’m still on season 1-2 so if anything is a bit too ooc, I apologize! I love reading about crushes, first kisses, first loves, so this is for my puppy love stage lovers out there!! p.s: there's a poll for the next turtle by the end of the headcanon, make sure to vote your favorite! <3

(English is not my first language and I have dyslexia, I try to check everything before posting but sometimes grammar mistakes still happen, I apologize in advance if you find one!)

Leo

That’s some deeply repressed, effortless devotion energy right there, Leo is a pro at pretending that everything is fine, keeping it cool, but on the inside? so freaking nervous it’s not even funny

it's almost creepy how quiet he suddenly gets near you on your first visits, he acts in such a secluded but... odd way that everyone know something is up with him, but no one really knows what.

His younger brothers are all 🤨 over how he’s acting, at first, they noticed tiny shifts in his behaviors, they weren’t big enough to raise a red flag of such change, but when Leo shows how inpatient and careless he has become in training or meditating, then they KNOW something was really off . he has been careless for the silliest things as well, breaking the toaster more than once a week, forgetting to nag them about the open toothpaste, stuff he usually wouldn't miss it, but suddenly he doesn't mind it anymore.

None of them have the guts to ask him (Raph and Mikey might tease here and there, but you know, it’s Raph and Mikey) Don might find himself studying his brother from time to time, interested to why his older brother is being way more introspective than before, he wonders if maybe he’s going through a natural turtle process of some sort April is the only one who truly leaves him be, but as your visits become more frequent, it all clicks when you randomly stop by to deliver some groceries by Master Splinter request.

The pure lovesick look he glances at you when you first enter... you caught him completely off guard as he was leaving the dojo with Master Splinter, his dementor shifted back rapidly to stoic, but April noticed it, her eyes widened slightly as it all made sense, softening right after. Leo helps you with the groceries with agility, as Master Splinter excuses himself after he thanks you, he even dares to make small talk after an extremely long and awkward moment of silence (which he researched his possible lines in his head several times, made up several scenarios in which topic it could lead into, I might add) We have seen how Leo reacts to Usagi in the series (he has a fat crush on each other and I’m right) so you know even if he is indeed nervous, Leo is so dedicated to your well-being, attentive to your needs and inputs to missions or even movie debates, it’s heartwarming to see how inclusive he can be of you. He notices everything – Not in an obvious way, or a loud way, but in a way that means you’ll never have to ask him twice about something important to you. You mention offhand that you like a certain type of tea? He remembers. You’re shivering? He’s already handing you his jacket before you can say a word. The exact moment you get tired even before you admit it.

One day at training after sparring, you absentmindedly rubbed your wrist. You didn’t say anything, didn’t complain at the pain you might have felt, but later that night, you find a perfectly wrapped bandage roll left on top of your bag. No note. No explanation. You glance at Leo, and he’s just calmly cleaning his takana, pretending like he has no idea what you’re looking at. He’s not the type to shower you with words, but his actions speak volumes. He makes sure you always walk on the safe path while coming back from a mission or scorting you back home, he picks whatever condiment out of your food because he remembers you don’t like them. He’ll “coincidentally” be around when you need help, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. He's gentle, kind, and a true gentleman, he makes sure his presence is there. He effortlessly puts so much thought into you, it’s just how his mind works.

He disliked how nervous he first got around you, but after a while, he didn’t even realize how he had grown used to thinking about you. He grabs an extra bottle of water without thinking because you might be thirsty later. His brothers joke that he’s got favorites, and he just denies it, but deep down? Yeah. It’s you. Eventually, he has to talk to someone, and he chooses to confide in April about… well, everything? regarding feelings, about how to be sure, what does it feel like to love someone and how should he react to it? wait, did he say love? How can he stop his hands from getting so sweaty? this is ridiculous, should he feel anxious and at ease around you all at the same time? From time to time, he tells himself he doesn’t like you like that, that he’s just looking out for you because you’re part of the team, part of the family. that's just him being a leader, That’s all it is.

his train of thought is broken as he hears Mikey chuckle “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Leo stiffens, cleaning his throat as he turns he page of his book a bit too slow “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you SO do.” Mikey grins. “The ‘eyes-follow-them-every-time-they-leave-the-room’ thing? The ‘silent-knight-hovering’ thing? classic move, real smooth.”

Leo exhales through his nose, forcing himself to focus on back his book. It’s not like that. It can’t be. "Maybe you should tell them, who knows, they might be looking back right at ya" Mikey winks at him, biting on this apple as he sits on the couch, turning on the tv. Maybe he was looking at you too long, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was, or his brothers just, unfortunately, know him too well and finally caught up. He prided himself and his control, his calm exterior, carefully managed. but maybe you slip through the cracks. He can't help but to continue notice how eyes shine brighter when you smile, remembering every little thing about you, doing things that only you get to see. Deep down, he knows. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

[lesmiix]

idk if you do nsfw, if you don't ignore this ask pls

can I request headcanons for a Hyun-ju that feels extremely dysphoric about her crotch so she doesn't want us to touch her there but still wants to feel pleasure and make us feel good in return? b intimate in general. So reader and hyunju find ways to get her to have an orgasm without the need of touching that area

very loving & comforting reader towards hyunju, determined to make her feel good

NSFW: Dysphoria

Hyun-ju x g/n reader

Summary: Hyun-ju is extremely dysphoric about her body as she hasn't got her bottom surgery yet, so reader tried to reassure her and make her feel as comfortable and loved as possible.

Warnings: NSFW, body dysphoria, slight masturbating mention, orgasm, switch! reader, g/n reader, switch!Hyun-ju, Hyun-ju has not got bottom surgery yet, comfort + fluff

a/n: I hope I got the request right! Thanks for such a sweet requestttt🫶🫶

Sorry if there's any gramatical or orthography mistake, English's not my first language!

In your relationship, you guys would take things slowly, without rushing anything.

You and Hyun-ju would have started to date 3 months ago and and you still wouldn't have had sex.

You didn't have any issue with it, as you wanted to make sure that your girlfriend was completely ready to take that step.

I have the feeling that she would have had some relationships before you, before having started her transition and even after she started it (they weren't the most supportive though)

You knew about Hyun-ju's dysphoria and you always tried to comfort her as best as you could, making her know that you loved her body and that you saw her as the most beautiful woman on earth.

But for her, it was hard to believe such loving words.

Deep talks between you were something common, even if sometimes you had to push her a bit so she would open up about how she felt with herself.

"It's just... I have never been comfortable with any of my ex-partners to touch me down there, you know? Is just really hard for me. I don't mean I don't want you, of course I want you and to make you feel good, I would be fine with taking that step with you, as long as I can keep my sweatpants on" she said while letting out a little laugh.

She was so nervous when things got heated for the first time...

Honestly I think she would be the one to make the first move, since you wouldn't do anything with the intention of going beyond affection, for fear of making her uncomfortable and making her feel pressured.

You were cooking dinner, when suddenly you felt some strong arms wrapped around your waist. She let out a sight as she buried her face on your shoulder.

"Smells good" Your girlfriend said while starting to leave some kisses on your neck.

You moved your head to the side, so she would have more space to leave those soft peaks on your sensitive skin.

"Mhm" You muttered in response while you stopped cutting the carrots.

Her breathing started to get heavier and when you turned around to face her, you saw how desperate she looked.

"Are you sure you want this?" You asked her while placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Yeah, just..." "Not touching on the bottom, I know honey, don't worry, I won't do anything without your consent" you cut her off

You would be really soft with her. Kissing her neck, chest, stomach and leaving on her occasional hickeys.

Anytime she started to get a little bit anxious, you'd hold her hand and ask her if she wanted you to stop.

When you finally took off her shirt and was left in her bra underneath you, you would tell her little compliments.

A soft purple led light was on when you were on top of her, taking her lips with yours, caressing her cheek with one hand and caressing her abs with the other hand. You had been some minutes like that when she finally got comfortable enough to keep going.

"Take my shirt off" She asked after breaking the little make out session.

"Whatever you tell me, darling" You replied as you slid the shirt over her head.

Now you had your girlfriend under you, half naked, only covered by a bra and sweatpants as she let out small whimpers from her mouth.

"God you're so beautiful, looking so gorgeous for me" you whispered while leaving kisses on her chest.

Your hand moved to her back, reaching for the bra closure. You noticed how her chest began to rise and fall more quickly.

"Can I?" You asked, looking directly into her eyes, trying to guess what she's thinking.

"Please" She answered.

You hold her hand and started to let small kisses on her breasts as you took off her bra, gently leaving it on the little night table beside you.

You admired the view as you told her the cutest compliments.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes so you could realize how beautiful you actually are".

You would really like to play with her boobs, caressing them, kissing, marking them with a ton of hickeys, reminding her how pretty she is.

She specially liked it when you slightly squeezed her nipples with your fingers or teeth.

Of course she would like an orgasm, but as she didn't feel ready for you to touch her that much, she would probably stroke herself slowly as you told her to.

"Touch yourself for me, beautiful"

She would probably keep her sweatpants on though.

After she finished, she would love to make you feel good too, so you would just switch.

I think she would use more her fingers instead of her mouth, at least the first couple times you guys had sex.

And oh, she's amazing with her fingers

She loved to see you arch your back because of the pleasure while you scratched her back as you let go.

Aftercare would be SO important for her.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need anything? Do you want me to bring a glass of water?" You bombed her with questions, just for her to let out a small chuckle.

"It was perfect my love, let's just rest now" She mumbled while closing her eyes, slowly falling asleep from the comfort of being held between your arms, having her face buried on your bare chest once again.

a/n: Heyyy I hope I got this right! I didn't really know how to make her have an orgasm without bottom stimulation, so I just came up with this idea.

I really hope you liked it! I got kinda nervous while making these lmao, I really really wanted to do it right

Request are open!!🫶

[joyful-soul-collector]

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Rearview - Chapter 2 - Collision Course

Summary: A slight accident on the way back from class might lead to a few interesting conversations with Cas' friend, Dean, from the party. Jo confides in you about her own perception of her relationship evolutions, leaving you to question your morals.

Characters: Dean, Jo, others mentioned

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: cursing, suicidal ideation, talk of sex, improper view of relationships, hatred of Shakespeare, mentions of panic attack-like symptoms, abuse

Author's Note: the drama is ensuing !!! leave comments if you like it or if you hate it LOL

Song: Save Yourself by Milo Greene 

Series Masterlist - Chapter 3

As an English teacher-to-be, you certainly despise Shakespeare. While booking it out of the lecture, down the stairs, and into the mid-noon sun, you shake your head to yourself, wondering how the hell you’ll be able to teach it to kids who are in the same boat as you. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the Shakespearean dialect (even though you found it to be rather cerebrally demanding), it was that you often wonder why you have to understand it. I mean, you’re reading fabricated old English that you will have to comprehend and translate into real, modern English, with obsessive, archaic vocabulary and hyperbolically plagued dialogue.

And in that moment, you curse yourself. Only Shakespeare could make you use this kind of strong, articulated diction. Damn yond Shakespeare.

Your classes this year are all starting off fairly in-depth. Granted, you finished all of your prerequisites, so now all that was left for these last few semesters were the "big girl" stuff and internships. Shakespearean Literature, Classroom Management, and Advanced Composition, all while you begin to prepare to go to an actual classroom and finally dip your feet into the oceans of high school education. And honestly, even with all these classes and your work schedule on top of that, you couldn't complain.

You're doing ten times better than you were at this time last year. Now, you still have your good and bad days, but it's an improvement from last year. Hell, you could tack on another two classes to your schedule and still have better mental stability than you did last year.

It's amazing what a little avoidance of your trauma distraction could do. 

Although, it couldn't do everything. Separating yourself from the problem was proving to be the easy part, and that had been a stressful journey for yourself and others. It's the constant reminders and echoes of the past that seem to jump out on you on even your greatest days. The nightmares won't even go away completely. You assume it's this lingering fear that is permanently glued to the back burner, but your brain can't ever turn it off. And it's not like you rock back and forth in the corner with wild eyes that refuse to close. You just didn’t know how to feel safe again. Time heals, you convince yourself with pathetic naiveté. You’ll meditate, read a self-help book, and things will start to miraculously look up, right?

As. Fucking. If.

Even right now, as you walk the familiar route from your class to the populated coffee shop a few blocks down, there is an impossibly relentless anxiety in your stomach. The most frustrating part is that you don’t know why it's still there. You’ve relocated, and you have two safety-conscious girl roommates and an overprotective anthropology major three blocks away from your apartment- who insists on texting him when you make it to class or your place when you're by yourself. You’ve surrounded yourself in a completely new environment, void of any prior attachments of the past, aside from being in the same city. So why does it still feel like Nick is everywhere? Sure, he lives in the vicinity of the metropolitan area, but it’s miles away. All you can do is repeat the mantra, shoving your panic down beneath the surface:

You’re safe.

You’re safe someone’swatchingyou.

Out of instinctual precaution, you glance behind you.

You’re sa-

“Oh- shit!” 

You curse as you collide with someone coming from your immediate right, and you turn your head back and stand face-to-leather jacket with the victim of your paranoia. “Christ, I’m so sorry-”

“Woah, hey, don’t sweat it.” A familiar voice assures, and you’ll be damned, that it so happens to be Dean. He steps back as he meets your eyes and smiles warmly upon the recognition of your face. “Oh, hey…” He says your name almost instantly like he’s been hopeful to say it again.

You pinch your eyes shut slightly out of embarrassment and shake your head, “Shit, I’m sorry, Dean- I was so not paying attention-”

“No, no, I wasn’t either, it was my fault, too.”

You huff an embarrassed laugh. “Wow, our insurance companies would hate to see us coming.”

“Good thing I’ve got collision coverage.” He snorts, a smirk remains.

“Your rate must be insane.”

Dean scoffs, “Oh, please. I’m practically uninsurable at this point. High-risk driver, multiple prior accidents on the record…”

“Off the record?”

“You don’t even want to know.”

“That’s okay, I'm pretty sure my 'check engine lights' have been on for years..”

“You should have that checked out.”

“I should.” You finally relent (after running out of other ways to make this situation applicable to people and car crashes).

Dean raises his lips in a lop-sided grin cleverly, “You know, I know a good mechanic.”

You close your eyelids, scoffing to yourself as you remember his major. “Right. I bet you do... Maybe I oughta make an appointment sometime.” 

"First-time customers are on the house." His gleam compliments his convictive demeanor.

Flirtatious. You ponder if this was a 'Dean' thing or a 'Dean with you' thing. Although, you're sure he's had plenty of practice before. Those enticing, emerald green eyes that just hook onto your soul, paired with his nonchalance, "sweetheart" this and his masculine charm that. It would be a damned waste if he hadn’t used his own allure. You’re pretty sure he could get anyone he wanted with the wink of an eye. That begs the question, what the hell was he doing with you?

"I'll keep that in mind..." Your gazes linger, before you add, “Well- uh, I don’t wanna make you late for class.”

Dean swings his car keys in his fingers absentmindedly, “Actually, my class ended at 1:45. I'm not holding you up, am I?”

You hesitate, unsure of how you should answer. On one hand, you could say, "Yeah, I got class in a few-" Four hours from now, "But I'll see you 'round!" You can pretend that you don't want to get to know him and figure out his quirks and his interests. You can pretend that you wouldn't find it fun to imagine what he's like romantically, if he's physically affectionate, or maybe he tells you that you look beautiful when you wake up every morning- of course after you find yourself engulfed in his arms, peppered with gentle, airy kisses on your temple. Ain't it fun to not pretend any of that.

But you know that it doesn't exist. You know it doesn't happen.

He's fucking Jo. He probably just wants another notch on his belt. Another body to the count. Same song, different dance. He'll flirt, and you'll tease, which leads to him dreaming up your futures only to be together for one night, and he's gone after he's chased his high.

But then you think to yourself, Cas would never introduce me to someone of that nature, he's well aware of my past and my stances on those particular men, or boys, more so.

Which made option two a whole lot easier. 

"No, I just got out of my class. Was headed to get gas," You point to Garth's- Coffee and Tea that was across the street and a congested traffic light or two away.

Dean's body follows your direction and he glances back at you with the corner of his mouth lifted with a bit of skepticism. "You know, I hear caffeine after 2PM can disrupt your sleep by three hours a night." 

Funny, you're lucky to get three hours of sleep, period.

"Please, does anyone actually sleep anymore after freshman year?" You challenge him.

His eyes look up, searching in his head for an answer, maybe, until he purses his lips, "Fair point." He draws his teeth onto his bottom lip, his face morphing into a questioning gaze, with a dash of concern, as he watches closely for your reaction, "You want somebody to walk with?"

Score.

"That'd be great, who did you have in mind?"

Shaking his head with a playfully dismissive smirk, he avoids your amused stare for a moment, "You know, you're going into the wrong field here. You're quite the regular comedian."

You gesture with a slight flick of your head for Dean to follow you, now heading in the direction of the coffee shop. "I'd probably make more money."

Dean makes his way to your side, keeping by the curb, "Ain't that sad."

He swallows, he lets a brief quiet fall between you two before he licks his lips and mentions, "I'm glad I got to run into you, uh... you took off rather quickly at the party." He contorts his face into a mild concern. "I didn’t know if I had said something…"

You hit yourself internally, forgetting about your little Irish goodbye, not to mention the last time you spoke that night was when the conversation revolved around his “relationship” with Jo. When things got awkward. Way to go on that one. "No, no, I just- uh...I was starting to feel a little sick off that punch, so I just went home."

He throws his hands up, palms open, in a "no shame" motion. “Well, hey- a valid reason to disappear." 

"I certainly thought so."

“Though certainly unfortunate. You left without a way for me to find you again.” He ventures, faking offense.

You couldn’t hold back the confusion that ran through you at his numerous flirts, “Not to be rude or anything, but…don’t you and Jo kind of have a thing together?”

Dean rolls his eyes at the definitive term you give for the situation. It looks like he hardly liked it to be recognized at all. “It’s hardly a ‘thing’. It’s not serious.”

That answer never fills you with confidence, from any guy. What exactly isn’t serious? How he feels when he’s inside her? The look he gives her when she’s just quenched his sexual thirst? What’s not serious? The shared noncommittal rush of pleasure when she does the thing he goes crazy for- that brings him back to her? The no-strings intimacy mystique, leaving them both driving each other crazy for more, more, more? 

Or did he mean it…was it really mindless, boring, right-place-right-time sex?

You didn’t understand it to begin with. You didn’t care to engage in that kind of sex, anyway. Not that you have standards that are above it, but you just think it dims the meaning of physical connection, which you did value. Not to mention, you had all the mindless sex when you were with Nick. You’re pretty sure you checked out after doing it enough, once it became more of a condition, than an act of love.

“But what does that mean to you?”

“It’s really just friends with benefits. And we hardly really do anything outside of…the benefits. We’re just each other’s entertainment sometimes, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s all.” You say, almost as if you don’t want to believe that it’s true.

He holds his hands out in defense. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Listen, I’m not judging. Really, truly, I’m not.” You preface sincerely before continuing, “But I’m not trying to get in between that.”

“Jo and I aren’t dating.”

“I know you know what guy-code is,” You give him a pointed look, “Girls have a similar code.”

“So what, I can’t be interested in you?” He looks down at you with a grin, but his eyes are tinged with disappointed confusion.

You scoff, “Not while you and Jo are…doing whatever it is you guys still do.”

“And if we weren’t…”

You pause, stumbling in your thoughts. “I guess I wouldn’t be disinterested.”

“So there is an interest of sorts…?” His grin gets wider.

You run a hand through your hair, struggling to come up with an answer that wasn't quite alluding to an eventual dismantling of his and Jo’s “hardly thing”. 

“It’s more complicated than that. I won’t make promises, but I’ll say I’m not disinterested.”

“‘Not disinterested’.” He repeats, satisfied. “A niche answer.”

“I think it’s necessary for this circumstance.” You shrug, becoming more certain of your reply.

Once you both reach the coffee shop, light conversation bounces between the two of you. Nothing too deep, mostly just the classes you came from and the professors you have this year. You notice his eye contact as he talks to you, how his attention is solely on you, and you feel like you're the only person in the world. It’s honestly distracting- you need a map when you look into his eyes. You have to focus ten times harder to finish a thought around him. You find yourself stuttering if he smiles while you talk.

Coffees are ordered and you give him a sly, contained smile at his Americano order, and he responds with a brag at himself,“What- never seen a guy with taste before?” You figure he might be trying to impress you, rather than order a plain, black coffee as most guys did. You turn your lips into an upside-down smile and tease him with a stereotype, which makes his face fall with a reactive scowl. But, you belly laugh at his reaction, and you swear that you can see him faintly watch with suppressed adoration, as you cover your mouth with a hand to conceal the volume of the giggle. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed with that laugh. 

Conversations mold into new topics. You learn a little bit about his brother, Sammy, who just recently got into Stanford University for Pre-Law. You take note of the sad smile he has when you comment on how proud his parents must be. He asks about your home life before college, recalling your parents’ divorce when you were in high school. It wasn’t a tough subject for you, all you really tell him is that it was an adjustment. Your parents did the best they could, though. That doesn’t mean your dad was Danny Tanner, or that your mom was Carol Brady…but you can recognize that your life definitely could’ve been worse. Especially after witnessing the effects of negligent parents, Nick’s parents. Mom left, and Dad was hands-off. 

Yeah, you turned out alright for the most part.  

“So with a mechanic dad, and you being an Automotive Engineer major, you have to have a favorite car then.” You prompt as Dean holds the door open for you, as the both of you exit Garth’s. 

“Oh, of course.” He articulates with eyes that say “Obviously!”

“So, what is it?” You implore impatiently.

He chuckles with a knowing grin, “The one I have now.”

Grumbling, toyful resignation in your tone, “I’m not gonna ask a third time.”

“1967 Chevy Impala.”

You halt, not stepping any farther as you narrow your eyes in disbelief, “Yeah, right. You have an old, classic muscle car.”

“I do,” Dean verifies with an assured smirk.

For a stunned couple of seconds, you read him to see if he was shitting you, but you believe him. “Well, you know what, mark me impressed then. That’s pre-tty fucking awesome.”

He sticks a hand in his pocket with the other hand holding his coffee out to point down the street, “I’m parked pretty close to the garage down the street. I can drive you home if you want to see her-”

“No-” You blurt out sharply, surprising yourself and Dean. The blood leaves your face for a second, reeling you into a confined panic.

You haven’t let anyone drive you in months. Not since the accident, not since Nick-

Damn it. This had been one of the few impressions Nick left that actually manifested into a foreseeable problem. It’s why you walked everywhere. From the apartment to class, to the store, to Garth’s, to everywhere. Just the thought of being in another car with someone driving you made your heart race. Trapped in a confined space, in the hands of someone else who had the power of your life in their hands, in more ways than one. You refused kindly anytime Cas offered to drive you, even to Charlie. Although, Cas had practically forced you that night to let him drive you, for the sake of your own safety and escape, even then you were griefed with fear and had nearly hyperventilated in the car. You felt guilty, allowing this stupid, barely rational fear to dictate your life, but they accepted your refusal with just a concerned afterthought. And worse, now Dean had no clue why you just denied him of showing you his pride and joy.

Blinking your eyes back into the present, you apologetically shake your head at his fallen expression, “Sorry- I don’t really do well… with people driving me. Anyone…it’s a- thing…” You lamely excuse yourself. 

“Okay… no worries. Uh, maybe I can still show her to you one day.” Dean leniently suggests, his face still pinched with perplexion and a hint of worry.

“For sure,” You assure with a pleading tone, “But, don’t let me hold you up from getting back. I have to walk to my apartment in the other direction, so…” The pleading trails off into one of a shamed acceptance.

“You’re not holding me up,” He says your name with a soothed promise, “I’ll walk with you. If you’ll let me, of course.”

“Dean, you definitely don’t have to-”

“I want to,” He lifts his head, asserting a masculine, but gentle attestment.

You relentingly exhale, face gleaming with a grateful glow, “Well then. Who am I to stop you from getting the things you want?”

He says something like “Damn right,” before matching your pace down another street as you make your way to your apartment complex.

“So, am I allowed to ask? Or is it off limits?” Dean raises a cautious eyebrow.

Staring straight ahead, you bite your lip, “Oh, the uh- the car thing?”

He treads carefully. “Yeah, the car thing.”

You rub your unoccupied hand at your neck, tensing your shoulders slightly, but ultimately offering, “I mean, it’s not interesting, but it’s not…off limits.” 

Dean doesn’t look quite convinced, but his curiosity gets the better of him, and he queries, “It doesn’t have to be interesting…just wondering.”

Blowing an exaggerated breath of air, you shake your head, “I mean, I was involved in an accident a couple months ago. Someone was driving my car…totaled it. So, I don’t have a car, but I’m definitely not ready to drop that kind of cash, yet.”

You can’t see him while you kick your feet in front of you, avoiding his gaze purposefully, but his jaw is clenched as you tell him. “Someone else totaled your car? That’s all kind of fucked-up. Did they at least give you reparations for it?”

You take a bit too long to answer, and Dean’s eyes snap open wider after he blinks, “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a long, long story,” You justify, not giving him much more of an explanation, “But, I don’t mind walking. I like it, actually.”

Dean shakes his head in anger, although not directed at you. He was livid for you, “It doesn’t matter- that was your car. The words I would have…” He stops himself, attempting to control his reaction.

“Honestly, I’m just lucky to be alive.” Some days you find that statement debatable. 

“That’s about the only good that came out of that situation.” He remarks protectively.

“That and the fact that I have killer calves now.”

He snorts at that, transitioning the mood slightly with your joke, “I won’t argue that.” He jerks his head back, getting an angle of your legs, and smirks in agreement. He speaks up again, “I definitely would never push you to get into a car again, but on your own accord, if you ever wanted to take a ride- I’d be honored to let it be in Baby.”

You squish your brows together, “In…Baby?”

Dean smiles proudly, “That’s her name.”

“I bet she can carry one hell of a watermelon.” 

He replies with a surefire tone, “Well, no one puts her in a corner.” 

Fortunately, nothing along the rest of the Nick-adjacent topics arise, which leads to undeniably smooth, easy conversing. And you hate to admit it, but you can see yourself liking him. Hell, who are you kidding, you do like him. But, God, you did not want to wrap him into your shit. Why take a perfectly great guy and taint him with your devastatingly scarred emotional tendencies? Did that mean you were leading him on? No, not yet. It was just a casual walk back to your apartment. You told him you weren’t exactly at that “interested” level yet. And he understood. He was doing this for you out of the kindness of his heart (?).

The walk back concludes at the outside of the lobby, where you linger and let the conversation die off slowly. He acknowledges that the both of you arrived at your residence, and he looks up at the building, “I take it we’re stopping because this is your apartment, and not so that you can look deeply into my eyes.”

“Who said that?” You quirk your head. Well, fuck. That was a flirt. Now you would be leading him on if you didn’t expect something more from this.

“I just used my context clues.” 

“How impressive. That’s an A+ for you, mister.” You tease, activating your “teacher voice”.

“That’d be the first one in a while,” Dean concedes, laughing a bit.

You give him a slight chuckle back, looking down at your feet, then back to him. “I appreciate the walk back.”

“Don’t mention it. Maybe I’ll start walking more often.” He muses, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You roll your eyes, “You claim to have this beautiful, antique muscle car and you’re going to start walking more?”

He lifts his shoulders for a moment, leaning forward a bit to tell you, “I’ve got some motivation.”

You could not believe his charm. “You don’t even know when I’m walking back from class or wherever.”

“Well then, this would be a pretty good time to ask for your number. So maybe I can find out.” And it sounds like he almost purrs.

You inhale, not looking directly at him, biting your lip in contemplation. “I don’t know if that’s right.”

“We’re not dating,” He restates, “Like you said, she apparently has guys crawlin’ in and out of there.”

Damnit. Is it right to have his number? I mean, he was at least a friend by now. Friends have friends’ numbers.

“If you insist-”

“I’m afraid I must.” He feigns a look of dismay, then smoothly slips his phone from his pocket to hand to you.

You try to contain the smile that peeks out as you insert your number, creating a contact for yourself on his phone, and then handing it back to him. “Happy?”

“I am,” he flashes his teeth with an undoubting expression. “Let me know when you leave class tomorrow if you have it.”

“I just might,” You back into the lobby entrance, my gaze softening some, “Bye, Dean.”

He maintains his smile as he gives you a farewell wave, keeps his eyes on you as you walk through the main floor to the elevator, and waits to take off to his car until he can no longer see you. 

When you amble back into the apartment, the door clicks softly behind you. You lean against it, a rom-com moment playing out by the entrance, where your mind whirls over the afternoon that played out just before you came in. A stupid grin plays out on your face. It was nice to be treated that way again. It's been years since a proper exchange of witty dialogue, eventually leading to the mushy details of the day where you part ways with the intent of seeing each other again. The fantasy of that lasting repeats in your head as you hold onto the feeling.

And the fantasy is quickly interrupted as you're greeted by Jo, currently wiping the counter in the kitchen ahead of you. She glances up and nods her head to you, “Hey.”

You clear your throat, immediately kicking yourself off of the door to head to your shared bedroom, “Hey, Jo. Charlie at D&D still?” You check, an ebb of guilt slightly boiling in your stomach.

“Yeah, she said around 6:30 she’d be back. Speaking of,” She put the cleaning spray she had out back under the sink, moving to press her palms against the counter, almost accusingly. “You’re home a little later than usual, I thought class ends at 2:00 for you?” She eyes you curiously, which is out of the norm for her. Most of the time, you didn’t think she paid attention when you returned from classes.

“Oh, it did, but I ran into a friend. We ended up shootin’ the shit for a little while.”

“Oh...cool.” She bites her cheek, an awkward silence tethers you back from your previous high, before she looks to you with a pinched expression. “Can I talk to you about something?” 

Jo's never initiated much conversation between the two of you alone. “Yeah…what’s going on?”

Jo has this annoyed smile plastered on her face as she brings up the subject. She's almost oblivious as she asks, “It's weird, but... you obviously liked Nick at the beginning of your relationship, right?”

You flinch slightly, eyebrows perking up, “Oh, well- Yeah…I mean, it’s hard to say so now after everything, but there was a draw to him in the beginning.”

“What did…what did that feel like to you?” 

“Oh, man. It’s torturous... I thought about him a lot, and I made every excuse to drive by his apartment complex before I lived with him. I used to go to the restaurant he works at, even though he wasn’t a server, and I knew I wouldn’t see him in the kitchen. I was real stupid for him.” 

It's true. You really used to be stupid for him. You still feel stupid somehow, although in a different sense. While you weren't lying to Jo, you had a hard time recalling why you were as crazed for him as you told her. You remember everything you did before officially being in a relationship, but it's like every remotely positive feeling from that relationship had been violently dissipated. There were good times, but it's almost painful to just briefly be aware that there were times when that sick fuck got a smile out of you. Just acknowledging that he was anything but a dog felt stupid. God, I was stupid.

“Sounds it.” Jo admires.

You huff out a regretful breath. “It was. Emphasis on ‘was’.”

“Right...”

“Why do you ask?”

Jo sighs, and now you're in for it. “I started…I don’t know. I started getting these weird feelings at the party last week. Butterflies, maybe. I don’t know, it honestly has been so long since I really started to like a guy, I guess.” She leans her body onto her forearms that rest on the granite countertop.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah," Her eyes move to yours, almost looking for your judgment, "I know it’s no secret that I’ve bounced between a lot of guys, but, I just figure why go through all the trouble of figuring out who wants a girlfriend or who just wants to get into my pants when I can just initiate it first?”

You tilt your head, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, “Sometimes you have to weed out all the bad ones to find a good one. Getting hurt like that, unfortunately, it’s inevitable. Hell, it’s happened to me a few times.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that. You can hook up first and then be more than a booty call if the sex is good. I mean, there’s no order to these kinds of things.” Jo is sure of herself.

Alarm bells go off in your head at her dating philosophy, if you could even call it that. Of course, if a relationship had naturally progressed from hookups to actual dates, that’d be a different story. A weird, modern story, but still viable. But Jo makes it sound like it was a typical option for finding a partner… which seems a little twisted, shallow almost. You don’t exactly know how to tell her otherwise or feel that you should, so you just nod along with her statement, staying reserved.

Jo ignores the somewhat forced silence you take and continues determinedly, “Look, somewhere along the lines, I just realized that I’m just bored of it. There’s no chase… or back and forth. Guys hardly make any effort when they already know they're gettin' it. I get free dinners and an orgasm out of some of them, which is great and all, but I want something more. Maybe I have to do some chasing, then backing away, then chasing until it forms...it keeps things interesting.”

“Forms...like an actual relationship?”

“Something along those lines," Jo nods half-heartedly, seemingly keeping her hopes at a distance. 

It's hard to encourage the hopes of a falsified relationship, but in all honesty, you're not close enough with her to try and set her straight. You can't slap her silly and say, "That's not love, that's boredom!" She'll have to learn it for herself, and that poor bastard is going to have to see her expectations from miles away in order to get a head start back to where he came from.

“Try it out. I mean, you only live once, and college is the right time to try out all this stuff.” You offer basic advice, afraid true advice would get twisted somehow into further bullshit. "I mean, if a guy has you all tingly inside, then definitely worth the shot. You said you met at the party?"

Jo shakes her head, "No, actually. We've already hooked up a couple of times, but we talked at the party some, and that'skind of when I started to think about things differently."

"Oh...who is he?" A nasty feeling arises in your gut.

"Dean Winchester."

Fuck. It was your poor bastard.

A/N: I'm impressed you made it to here! I almost didn't

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2025: ADRIFT IN CURRENTS CLEAN AND CLEAR by Seanan McGuire.

Ah, yes, my favorite January tradition: heartbreak in tiny series installment form :)

This one is about a turtle-obsessed disabled Russian girl who gets adopted by an American family and fitted for a prosthetic she doesn't ask for, want, or need, and then she splashes through her Door.

I love Russian language and culture things (shout out to accidentally double minoring in college), so I was excited for a Russian protag and a Russian-coded Door world! Excellent enrichment in my enclosure. Neat cultural expansion on the Wayward Children universe (multiverse? cosmos?? insert appropriately scaled setting word here).

I also liked the aquatic nature of Belyyreka--terrifying giant frogs and delightful giant turtles and delightful talking foxes on the riverbanks were all lovely, and the worldbuilding about different weights of water was neat! Very mind-bendy kind of setting, I dig it.

This installment felt very slim (146 pages in my copy), and Our World Heavy--the first 46 pages were in Colorado, and the last 100 were in Belyyreka, but it felt like we did More Frequent and Larger Time Skips in Belyyreka compared to Earth? Kind of speedrun mode, sans Quests, really (this one was a lot more oriented toward Finding/Building Your Family, which was signposted pretty clearly upon our arrival in Belyyreka). Mostly a quieter installment up until the, y'know, Typical Impending Tragedy of Return at the end. (Did I almost put it down at 1AM last night with 30 pages left so everyone could Be Happy? perHAPS,)

Overall: I had a good time! But, ow, my heart (once again and forever).

[corpsentry]

there’s something so epic about hetero chinese period dramas and i think one part of it is that there is absolutely nowhere in the narrative i could exist.

lately i’ve been on a western media detox— i’ve cleaned english language music out of my playlists and have never been able to stomach western dramas anyway, so that part is easy— which might seem funny, because if i’m in singapore and i hate it and i won’t touch american music then what’s left? the answer is the false binarism of chinese period dramas, at least for me. the badly written ones are misogynistic and stupid and the better ones are less of those things, but regardless the world that emerges is clean-cut and easy to parse. there’s someone to root for and someone to hate. there’s a girl and a boy. there’s the comedy and the drama, the sheer thick drama, the music that signals to you precisely how to feel before the scene even starts going

try to jam a fifth culture transnational transgender they/them with 2 mental illness and 1 autoimmune disease into this world and it simply doesn’t work. and that’s kinda epic lolzers! it’s like watching high fantasy, or super hardcore sci-if. it both represents a simulacrum of the real world and is so far from the reality you know that you understand it as a hypothetical universe, one that disincludes you on principle. i exclude myself from the story and in doing so fangfei from moyuyunjian’s steely gaze becomes all the more important. i give so many shits and laugh and yell and spectate. but i am safe from the eyes of its inhabitants. if i entered the story it would break. so i sit outside of it, clapping by myself

in other news, we gave up on mysterious lotus casebook 16 episodes in. there are many character archetypes in these shows that i can no longer stand; the salacious sexy seductive supervillain lady is not necessarily one of them but the way they did miss ‘this man didn’t even Look at me when all men fall at my knees so i hated him’ ‘no one is allowed to steal buttchin from me’ jiao was way up there. surely a woman can have multiple personality traits and yet you would think from this drama that that is not at all true. and the strange harem that grew around li lianhua despite his absolute loser attitude— like i get it, he’s the gintoki of this show, that’s hot, but the way the women who were into him were written made me want to Eat Horse. it bothered me that di feisheng and lianhua’s homo as fuck dynamic was so intriguing and them + fang duobing was a winning trio but all the women in the show were written like complete fucking ass, and one of the big antagonists being a woman, the stakes throughout were not only lost to me but also Pissed Me Off. also, that case about the corpse flowers dragged on forever and all my pocky wilted

I Just Think, women deserve better in these damn stories. make them slutty as hell, sure, but make them other things too and i mean this in the most generous sense. slutty and proud. slutty and weird. slutty and oblivious. literally anything at all so they don’t come out cardboard flat from all angles. this is why i have a personal vendetta against the ditzy clueless female protagonist as well because if everything stems from the fact that she doesn’t know shit it’s like please someone Please tell her shit i’m on my hands and knees begging. give her more to chew on she’s dying of boredom over there

this is why i liked the so called antagonist of blossoms in adversity best (spoilers ahead). he was cruel as hell to huazhi and gu yanxi’s only parental figure. he was paranoid and selfish and lonely and craved a son’s love from the one person he couldn’t hold onto. in the end he is pushed further and further by huazhi, who won’t give in, to isolate yanxi from the people he loves and to lash out at those people as a way of punishing yanxi. and when he dies it’s because of his own distrust, his own negligent parenting, his absent cruelty from decades of insomnia and lack of faith in his people. but he cries for yanxi, and there’s something so human about that. to think of evil not as a first principle but rather an adjective for a verb that is set in motion by other events. to be honest, i haven’t seen such thoughtful writing in any chinese period drama before or after that and i strongly suspect i will never see such writing again in this genre but man, it was so fucking good (spoilers end).

in the meantime, i’ve dragged my mother to moyuyunjian/the double for the return casting of liu xiening and wang xingyue who are Eating so hard. they’ve got wang xingyue done up with the sluttiest makeup and liu xiening is breaking my heart with her pout and her Sassy Mean constitution and this is a revenge story, yes, but it’s a double revenge story. it’s a grief story. and fangfei is carrying more on her shoulders than lingbuyi imo, and doing so with much more grace too. her step mom’s a dick but she’s a smart, 5d chess playing dick who wears hot shades of green so i’m personally interested enough to keep watching (something lotus casebook DID NOT accomplish with their epic female antagonist…. mein gotte). and the princess too. unhinged as hell but god, so charismatic. and beautiful, with scary big eyes and the sweetest head tilt. fun fun fun! that’s fun character writing right there. the comedy might be too straightforward for my tastes but everything else is kind of hot and sexy And after the coming of age ceremony when jiangli appeared amidst the flowers i felt my throat close up even though we saw her for all of one (1) episode). i was like yes. they got me alright. i Care now

really that’s all that matters isn’t it. we want stories about people we care for. we want to give a shit. why else would we listen to the stories of other people. we are looking for us and the people we love in them

oh also moyuyunjian soundtrack goes hard as hell i love a little three step waltz. here’s a pic from the ‘gym’ for ur time. guten night

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I don’t get why people feel like the Duolingo owl is threatening, if I ever feel like he is I just get mad at him. I could fight an owl. I don’t know if I’d win, but I don’t think I’d lose (two things that can apparently coexist). I think I’d survive at least and that’s not really winning but also not losing.

You wanna be so threatening? Da bør du drepe meg!

[hersterical]

A brief look into my mind ever since seeing The Marvels: Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Lucky Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Lucky the Pizza Dog Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Hawkeye Hawkeye Kate Bishop Kate Bishop KATHERINE ELIZABETH BISHOP Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Young Avengers Kate Bishop Hawkeye Investigations Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Pizza Dog Kate Bishop Lucky the Pizza Dog Kate Bishop Hawkeye Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop Kate Bishop KATE BISHOP KATE BISHOP KATE BISHOP

KATE BISHOP

KATE BISHOP

KATE BISHOP

[folkwhoreberry]

I completely understand if you’re not comfortable writing this but I wanted some pregnant!reader x luke castellan fluff pls 🥺

One Of Me Is Cute, But Two Though?

luke castellan x reader

or... the one where you’re the lucky ones

word count : 873

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : juno by sabrina carpenter

🗡️🪽

you’ve been having a hard time adjusting to the whole being pregnant thing. it wasn’t exactly like the demigod life was suited for sitting around with swollen ankles and a rapidly expanding belly, but you were doing your best. well, you and luke, to be fair. luke had been your rock, even though neither of you expected to find yourselves in this situation so soon.

“you sure you don’t want me to carry you?” luke asked, grinning as you waddled slightly behind him. his golden hair caught the afternoon sun, and despite the heat, he still looked effortlessly good. annoying, right?

“I’m fine,” you replied, a little breathless but determined to maintain some semblance of independence. “I’m five months pregnant, not helpless.”

he turned to you, eyebrows raised in amusement. “you’re waddling.”

you shot him a glare, but it was softened by the playful smirk on his face. “I’m not waddling, I’m… adjusting to my center of gravity.”

luke laughed, stepping back to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you walked through the long hallway of your home. “okay, okay. you’re adjusting. but I still think you look cute waddling.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. luke always had a way of making you feel like you were glowing, even when you felt like a swollen balloon. his teasing wasn’t mean-spirited; it was always gentle, filled with affection.

“what do you think we’re having?” you asked suddenly, glancing up at him as you leaned against his side. luke’s hand automatically dropped to rest on your bump, his thumb tracing small circles.

“hmm…” he pretended to think deeply, narrowing his eyes. “I’m betting on a future hero. someone strong and clever - just like their mom.”

you snorted. “strong and clever? please, they’ll be all sass like their dad.”

luke grinned, not missing a beat. “you mean charming and irresistible? yeah, that sounds about right.”

you swatted at him lightly, though it didn’t stop him from pulling you closer for a quick kiss to the top of your head. “we’re going to have our hands full, aren’t we?” you murmured.

“probably,” he admitted, though there was no trace of worry in his voice. if anything, he sounded excited. “but hey, we’ve faced worse. monster attacks, angry gods… what’s one little demigod baby?”

you chuckled. “just one little demigod baby, right? that’s assuming they don’t have the gods’ temper.”

luke grinned mischievously. “well, if they do, we’ll just make sure to bribe them with cookies. demigods love cookies.”

“cookies solve everything,” you agreed, leaning more heavily against him as the two of you approached the kitchen. “speaking of cookies, I could really go for one.”

“just one?” luke asked, giving you a teasing look. “because, I mean, I could grab a whole plate if you want. no judgment.”

you glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “are you implying that I’m going to eat a whole plate of cookies by myself?”

he grinned. “not implying, stating.”

you stared at him, lips pursed, before shrugging. “you’re right. bring me the whole plate.”

luke’s laughter echoed as he left your side to grab the cookies, and you settled yourself onto the couch with a sigh. pregnancy wasn’t easy, but moments like these, when you could relax and joke around with luke, made it bearable - or dare you say, even enjoyable. it helped that luke was always doting on you, always ready to offer support (and snacks).

he returned a moment later, a plate of cookies in hand and a glass of milk balanced in the other. “for my queen,” he said with a dramatic bow, placing the plate and glass in front of you.

“you’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. “otherwise I’d think you were trying to fatten me up.”

“you’re perfect,” he said, eyes soft as he sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “and don’t worry, you’ve got a long way to go before I have to start rolling you around the house.”

you glared at him, cookie crumbs falling onto your lap. “wow, thanks for that image.”

he chuckled, pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your cheek. “just saying, you look beautiful no matter what. even if you’re waddling.”

you leaned into his kiss, warmth spreading through you. “flattery will get you anywhere,” you muttered, though your tone was fond.

“oh, I know,” luke said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. he shifted slightly so he could rest a hand on your bump again, his touch gentle and warm. “hey, little one, you hear that? your mommy’s the best. you’re gonna be really lucky.”

“lucky?” you scoffed. “this kid’s going to have you for a dad. of course they’re lucky one.”

luke glanced down at you, his eyes softening. “nah,” he said quietly. “I’m the lucky one.”

and with that, you leaned into his warmth, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as you shared the peaceful moment. monsters, gods, and the chaotic life of a demigod could wait. right now, it was just you, luke, and the little life growing between you.

————————————————————————————

a/n : craving cookies can you tell

[bronx-aro]

I had a dream last time where i was Welsknight and i was on hermitcraft (not playing the game, the world *was* minecraft).

So i kept trying to help Joe Hills build his montain base with a statue on the outside wich opened up in ik a mountain face. There was this huge dungeon outside too. And i was SO exited to help and do things. But the other hermits kept getting more and more annoyed with me when i just wanted to have fun. At some point everyone was just walking around the builds (mostly still joe's base) and i felt so bad i was just lagging behind, purposefully phasing trough the ground spectator mode style (i was able to do that and flying all along, something that nobody else did but it's not that unusual for me to have some awarness in dreams and therefore more or less lucidly do things). I was hoping to hear them say nice things about me or even apologise so that i could reassure myself i wasnt hated. They didnt.

It all came to an end when we ended up at joe's base again, on a side of the dungeon that was opened up to the air near a river. And an hermit (i am pretty sure it was hypno; he was for sure one of the people that talked then) pointed at another hermit and sayed a small, nice descriptive about them. The hermit he sayed this too (i think it was stress, but i was a bit far because i didnt want to get close. Might have been another girl) started to do the same to someone.

At that point i was laying on the ground in the position i had gotten out of phasing moden and i realised it was only a matter of time before it came to me, or they noticed i was there if they hadnt before. But before i could phase back into the ground the person stress had pointed to had already taken two steps towards me, pointed at me and just said "Vile Friend".

VILE FRIEND.

And then i WOKE UP.

I am messed up right now HOLY SHIT. It took me a while to get myslef back together properly before i would leave my bed. When i saw my shelf with all my hermitcraft cards when getting up i was filled with as much anger and dread as when you look at some merch from a youtubeur that was cancelled. It's fine now but WOW.

ANYWAY hermitblr if someone wants to take that and make it into a hurt/no comfort fanfic feel free because holy shit. Actually no bonus points if you include Helsknight showing up and taking care of Wels while hating on the other hermits.

[kimmkitsuragi]

i found an old invoice from like 2015 and it says a toaster was 100 liras. kms