#I'm completely sane about this man i swear

[cyb3rn1t3]

My shrine to the #2 pro hero, Hawks. I will be adding more.

[httpsserene]

I LOVED daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x reader!! could you write a part 2?

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐊.𝐎. !

summary: Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine.  As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words.  pairing: daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. author recommends reading part one before this. polyamory. threesome. massages. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. safe, sane, and consensual. bondage. safeword mention. unprotected sex. ruined orgasm. handjob. oral sex (male receiving). edging. crying during sex. praise kink. nipple play. dom/sub ig? joking during sex. dom!max verstappen. switch!daniel ricciardo. sub!reader. vaginal sex. anal sex (male). sex toys (butt plug). frottage. don’t like don’t read. no beta we die like men. edited by the author, though. this is a fictional depiction of real-life people, and this is not an accurate representation of them. word count: 4.3k words

author’s notes: to all the lovely readers who begged for a part two of my f1 kinktober special | overstimulation kink w danny & max. these tags may look crazy...okay, they are but the fic is reasonably crazy i would say. this was humbling to write, you have been warned. my 2k followers special comes to its end with this final installment and there will be no part three of this fic < 3. i may repost this on ao3 in a week or so, for ease of reading as i know long fics on tumblr are kind of annoying :)

(i'm going to take a little pause from writing daniel ricciardo fics but those of you that have requested things for him i will get to them in due time xxx)

prev part 1 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents↻

Your body feels like it’s been wrung out: legs wobbly, thighs bruised, hips aching, back broken, and numb with heat between your legs. You refuse to wear pants as the friction is too paralyzing to take more than a few steps. Loose dresses are your best friend–for the first couple of days, you even went commando around the ranch—thank god neither one of your boyfriends clued into that. 

However, it’s not like you disliked the oversensitivity and aching muscles that came after sex. You loved the feeling even more as it was the first time you’d been properly fucked in a few months. Having that unending thirst for Max and Daniel quenched; it’s heightened how you experience life. You swear that your vision feels sharper, your melanated skin softer, anything you eat tastes better than delicious, the homemade lemonade is sweeter, and most importantly, your desperation has calmed. While you love life on the farm, where living has become succulent under your senses—Max’s attitude has done a complete 180°.

His energy is completely subdued. It’s like Daniel drained the cum and brat out of him. Max is all stuttered words when he makes eye contact with either of you, blushing fully at the lightest tease or brush of skin, voice soft when he speaks, usual bluntness replaced with shyness, and he’s even clingier than normal. If he hasn’t glued himself underneath Daniel’s arm, he’ll be plastered against your back.

You wonder if he’s embarrassed that Daniel changed their “plan” on him at the last minute, or if it’s because Daniel used him as a tool to get you off—but, asking Max would only scare him away or cause the brat to resurface…so you don’t verbalize your theories. You find Max in this state more adorable than usual, and you won’t complain if it means a surplus of Max-cuddles.

Yet, the figurative rug is pulled from beneath your feet when the three of you go Christmas shopping. Daniel had separated from the two of you to go pick up a gift for his nephew, leaving you and Max alone to browse through knickknacks that decorate the shelves. Your eyes were caught by cat ornaments that looked exactly like Jimmy and Sassy but before you could reach out to grab, them Max grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to hide in the next aisle over.

“I want to break Daniel with so many orgasms that he won’t be able to speak by the time we’re done with him,” Max states bluntly. The brat is back.

“Regulate your volume,” you whisper-yell at him, hand moving to cover his mouth as you look around to see if anybody heard your Dutch boyfriend, “We are in public and you decided now is the time to bring this up?!”

He pulls your hand off his face, looking at you with wide eyes, “But, liefje–c’mon! Daniel’s been way too smug recently. Whenever I’m around him he doesn’t miss the chance to mention how he made me cry—made you cry, too!”

“Inside voice, Max,” you bite out, continuing to look at the Christmas decorations in this aisle.

“Fine,” Max whispers, rolling his eyes, “Technically, it’s another Christmas present for him if you think about it.”

“I’m trying not to think about it if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t you want to even the board? Imagine it: Daniel underneath the two of us, and we’re overwhelming him with pleasure. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?”

You stop walking abruptly and Max runs into your back. You spin around and stare at him with narrowed eyes and a flared nose.

“You seriously thought the best time to discuss this is in the middle of a family-friendly store, where our boyfriend is picking up a gift for his nephew?”

“Yes.”

“If you stop talking about it for the entire time we’re shopping today, I’ll consider it. We can discuss this when the phantom feeling of his cum on my skin goes away.”

That evening, you and the Dutchman watch Daniel fix a motorbike out in the driveway from the garage. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his face and back, you can see every muscle engage and relax as he moves. He’s silhouetted by the Australian sunset and you hear Max choke on his breath when Daniel’s loose jeans slip down his hips, exposing the waistband of his briefs—twin sighs of disappointment leave you both when he catches and drags them back up. With shaky hands, you grab the pitcher of lemonade you prepared to pour a glass for each of you. Ignoring how you missed the glass on your first few attempts, you two bring the drinks to your lips and dry the cups embarrassingly quickly to satiate your desperation—the lemonade doesn’t help. 

Daniel finishes with the bike and wipes his hands on a towel he had tucked into his back pocket, looking your guys’ way. He smiles brightly—shamefully, you wave in response and Max tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind his ear; the two of you are acting like school girls with a crush. 

The Australian stands and in a few relaxed strides, he comes to a stop in front of you two. 

“Can you pour me a glass, sweetheart?” his request rumbles out velvety.

Stuttering, you scramble to do as he asked and find that Max has reached for the pitcher as well when your hands bump into each other. The two of you freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes; Max’s blush blooms red across his face and yours warms the brown skin of your cheeks. Daniel’s chuckle of amusement snaps you out of it; Max pours the drink, and you hand it off to the Australian, avoiding eye contact. He brings the glass to his lips and drains it dry. You and the Dutchman stare with gaped mouths, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, whimpering and pressing your thighs together at his ah in satisfaction when finished. 

He leans down to place the glass back on the tray and smirks at you and Max, “Absolutely delicious. It almost tastes as sweet as either of you is acting right now.”

Both of you stay silent, squirming in your lawn chairs. Daniel takes a second to slowly press both of your mouths closed with a nudge of his fingers before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the drink, sweetheart,” Daniel cocks his head to the side in question, before winking, his smug aura radiating off of him, “Or should I say, ‘sweethearts?’ As both of you seemed so eager to help me quench my thirst.”

Your mouth pops open again and Max audibly whimpers next to you. Daniel laughs and walks to enter the house, “Don’t feel afraid to join me in the shower.”

The plan is set before Daniel’s out of the shower. You’ve changed into a black mini slip dress, curls loosely cascading down your back as you’ve draped yourself on top of the bed sideways, face-down on your tummy, not caring how the back of your dress has ridden up a couple of inches. Max laid himself on his side next to you, dressed in a navy Enchanté shirt and a pair of Daniel’s briefs that hug at his thighs a little too tightly, and plays with the bottom hem of your dress, letting his fingers drift underneath to press at bruises that haven’t healed from that night. 

At the sound of the shower shutting off, the two of you glance at each other; Max checking in with you one last time before you guys follow through with the plan. At your nod, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips and goes back to fiddling with your dress. You rest your head on your folded arms and as your eyes flutter shut, the bathroom door opens.

You hear Daniel humming some country song and he gets about three steps into the room before he stops abruptly.

“Well, if I had known this would be waiting for me out here, I wouldn’t have spent a lifetime in the shower waiting for you guys to take me up on my offer.”

Max makes a noise of confusion, his hand pausing at your hemline, “What are you talking about? We just thought it would be nice to give you a massage—you know, prevent any muscle tightness from when you were hunched over the bike.”

“Is that so, pretty girl?” Daniel questions you, looking past Max. He’s dried off from his shower already, skin gleaming thanks to your cocoa butter lotion he probably stole, hair still damp but not dripping, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sure he’s trying to sniff out any weakness; to see if he can bend you into revealing Max’s agenda for tonight. Little does he know that you’re not an accomplice, you’ve put a good amount of work into this plan too.

In response, you offer a small smile and hold up a bottle of massage oil that was previously tucked into your side. Daniel’s narrowed eyes flit between the two of you, and then he relaxes, shrugging loftily as he motions for the two of you to move so he can lie down. 

“Okay, sure,” Daniel laughs, falling into the bed as soon as the space is available, lying flat on his stomach, face planting into the pillows and his next words are muffled but loud enough to understand, “You don’t have to use ‘giving me a massage’ as an excuse to feel me up, but I’m not going to turn it down if you’re so willing to do so.”

You and Max are kneeling on opposite sides of Daniel’s body on the bed, resting on the heels of your feet, and you muffle a giggle at Max rolling his eyes at your boyfriend’s words. The younger man slaps his hand on Daniel’s back, grinning at the stifled yelp that sounds from near the headboard, and coos sarcastically, “Do you think you can handle that level of pain? Considering this is a deep-tissue massage?”

You drizzle a nice amount of oil on the middle of his back, letting your laughter escape as Daniel pleads, “Woah—hear me out, what about a regular massage? I would like to end this massage without crying from soreness, please.”

Slowly the two of you turn to look at each other, smiles spreading across your lips, and Max murmurs, “Oh. You’ll be crying by the end of this.”

You ignore Daniel begging for mercy underneath you and beginning massaging. For all of the Dutchman’s ribbing, the two of you are gentle. Your hands soothingly rub any tension out of his back; the two of you are only doing this to melt Daniel into the bed. He protests and grumbles through the both of you digging into his shoulders, but quiets as you make your way down his back, practically moaning when you push a knot out from behind his shoulder blade. Max manages to wrangle out a whimper when he presses his thumb into the dimple of his lower back. Neither of you gets close to the towel resting low on his hips; you want to keep him as calm and unaware as possible, but getting close to that towel would do the opposite. When Daniel’s breathing slows and his sounds of relief start to lessen, Max gently coaxes Daniel into rolling on his back with ease.

The brunette’s eyes flutter open, but you tut disapprovingly when his gaze meets yours. With a kiss on his forehead, Daniel closes his eyes at your word, not fighting you for a second. And from that point, you and Max begin conditioning the older man to get used to only having one pair of hands on him at a time. Max massages his chest, you take a break, you massage his chest, Max takes a break; and as Daniel starts to relax at the rhythm, you guys slowly increase the length of your breaks. 

Until the breaks get long enough to slip the ties that you guys fastened to the headboard out.

Daniel was so entranced at the sight of you and Max sprawled on his bed that he forgot to examine his surroundings. They’re silk ties, with pre-made straps for you to tighten as soon as his hands are inside them. The two of you take it to the next step; you each begin to massage his arms (still employing your regular breaks), raising them upwards to “get a better angle.” Daniel doesn’t even shift at the change, he just hums under his breath when either of you soothes across a good spot. And with little effort, you and Max raise both of his arms and smoothly slip his tattooed hands into the ties, tightening the straps in the blink of an eye.

The older man startles, eyes flying open as he tries to yank his wrists free of the binds, “Uhhhh, what the fuck?”

Both of you watch as Daniel tries to free himself without any luck, enjoying the show as the silk ties prove they won’t give out. Chills shudder down your spine as your older boyfriend tries to order the two of you to release him, but he must see the feral glint shine in your eyes because he switches to asking when neither of you moves.

“You know what to say if you really want us to let you go, Daniel,” Max states bluntly, pulling off his Enchanté shirt easily. 

You hum in agreement, straddling the Australian’s hips and simultaneously tugging your slip dress over your head and tossing it to the side, exposing your bare body before seating yourself on the bulge showing through the towel. Daniel chokes out a curse, his eyes dancing between yours and Max’s bodies being dangled in front of his face without being able to touch.

He tests the binds for any give half-heartedly before sniffing dismissively, jaw tightening as he challenges Max, “Do your worst, baby.”

Max scoffs out a laugh, “That is the plan.”

From there you and Max turn into savages. Both of you bypass kissing Daniel, pressing lips and biting bruises along his neck and torso instead. The man can only cry out as Max terrorizes his nipples with teeth and pinching fingers while you paint marks on his hipbones and navel. The older man isn’t convinced that the night will end without the two of you seriously attempting cannibalism but the thought is pushed away when the towel is tugged off his hips.

Max laughs mockingly and flicks Daniel’s already-hardened length, “Well, this will be even easier than we thought, liefje.”

“I was half-hard from the minute you guys put your hands on me,” Daniel snipes, “Don’t let this go to your head.”

You raise an eyebrow in question, tilting your head to the side innocently which contrasts the strong grasp of your hand around the head of Daniel’s cock, “Isn’t that a compliment, though? Anyways, it clearly went to your head.”

Daniel groans in pleasure as you start to rapidly stroke along his quickly reddening length, “That was a terrible pun–fuck–but, I’m only letting it slide because your hand is on my cock.”

He bucks up into your fist and you release him immediately, smiling as you see him choke down a whimper of disappointment. The older man isn’t left alone for long, as Max drags the tip of his index finger along the slit of Daniel’s cock before flattening his palm across the head and roughly circling it to overwhelm him with an alarming amount of pleasure-coated friction. 

The brunette can’t stifle his cries this time nor can he buck his hips, thanks to the Dutchman pinning him down with his free forearm. Max pulls both of his hands away quickly, delighting in Daniel’s sounds of displeasure, the two of you watching as he attempts to chase a hand that isn’t there anymore. His length is throbbing, pulsing angrily, redder than the blush that stains his tanned chest. You swallow wantingly. Both of you thought that you would be able to get a few more rounds out of a handjob, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Max gets his hand around the base and yours circles the tip. Simultaneously, the two of you start rubbing him off in time, keeping your fists just tight enough and your motions just quick enough to hurtle Daniel to the edge. He throws his head back into the pillows, hips freely bucking as neither one of you attempts to stop him, his hands pulling against the ties all the while,

“You can cum whenever you want, Daniel,” Max states.

The older man lets out several pants of desperation, calling both of your names as he nears his climax. And when you both see the telltale sign of Daniel’s chest rising and falling heavily, you release his cock.

“No! Wait–shit,” he tries to gasp, but it’s too late. His cock starts leaking, jerking pathetically as cum drips down his length in ribbons—his orgasm ruined. Dry sobs escape his lungs as he humps the air, looking for friction that isn’t there, continuing to beg for a hand even as he struggles to breathe as a result of the unsatisfying release.

You let him come down hard, offering support in a quick squeeze of the meat of his thigh over his tattoo. When he catches his breath, his eyes flutter open. Max sees the wetness gathered in the waterlines and moves in the blink of an eye, enveloping Daniel’s still-hard cock in his mouth. 

The Australian’s back arches off the bed, hips racing forward then backward as he cries out, unsure if the feeling of Max’s mouth is good. Both pairs of your hands fly forward to still Daniel, forcing him to feel every crevice of Max’s tongue and throat, trying to bring him to another orgasm as quickly as possible. It works, Daniel stops fighting and starts obeying, rolling upward into Max’s mouth, whimpering out depravedly as he struggles against his binds again. You see his abs start to undulate in waves, a second orgasm trying to form and you slip your hand underneath Max’s chin, lightly squeezing at Daniel’s balls—and the tears fall as his release slams into him like a semi-truck.

The younger man swallows around Daniel, humming as he does it, yet the bobbing motion of his head doesn’t stop—Max is going to try his hardness to prevent Daniel from going soft, even as the older man tries to fight and twist away from the wet grasp of his throat. The Australian’s tears paint his cheek as he sobs messily, and you’re quick to check in with him as Max’s mouth is occupied.

“Daniel, color?” you manage to make your voice sound steady, but your thighs are trembling, your cunt pulsing with wetness and need. 

The man whimpers, eyes unseeingly looking down at you and Max as he cries messily, “Green.”

You moan breathily, finally giving in to your urges and rushing forward to messily kiss Daniel. You let him cry into your mouth, nipping at his lips and tasting his tears before pulling away. Max pulls off Daniel’s cock with a reedy gasp and moves backward quickly so you can slip in between them, seating your cunt atop the half-hard length and beginning to grind along him. The brunette makes a sound as if he’s been punched in the gut, arms pausing in their fight against the ties before they resume with renewed strength. Daniel scrambles to get his feet underneath him, trying to buck off the hot, wet drag of your cunt against his cock. It’s pulsing so violently that he swears he can feel it in his throat. 

Max knocks his feet down, and tugs Daniel’s chin to look at him with a hardened grasp, with his voice rough and croaky he commands, “Can you give us one more, Daniel?”

Daniel's glossy, brown eyes stare at Max without answer, mouth parted as drool slips from the corners of his lips. The Dutchman’s brow tightens with worry and he releases his chin to pull you off. But, before he can stop you, Daniel gasps out desperately.

“M’ green—please, please, Max,” Daniel nods viciously, “Green, green—one more.”

The younger man soothes Daniel with sweet words, praising and comforting him as he leans forward to pepper his lips and neck with kisses and kitten licks, pausing to motion you to continue. 

You line up Daniel’s cock easily and murmur out a ‘thank you’, before sinking down and not stopping until your ass meets his pelvis, uncaring of how he attempts to shake you off. His body is reacting in too much, but Max and you both see and hear how his brain interprets it as too good. 

You keen in pleasure but your noises are deafened by Daniel’s cries and begs for relief. Well aware that you have to get yourself off so Max can have a turn, you find that toe-curling angle with the help of Max directing your hips, holding yourself steady with one hand behind you on the bed and the other drawing rapid circles on your clit. Max moves to let you rest your back along his chest, your frizzed curls a mess as they bounce with your movements. 

The visual stimulation of Daniel in front of you moaning and heaving for more, the frantic twitching of his length inside of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his, and Max’s voice ghosting right by your ear, the ‘good girl’ that left his lips taking a second to process; all of it pushes you into the abyss. You don’t know if it’s you or Daniel that screams, your blood rushing in your ears and your vision flashing white clouds your mind as the explosion of pleasure burns your nerve endings. 

With a choked ‘fuck,’ you slump over, slipping off his twitching cock and slinking down next to Daniel as you shiver and shake through the last dregs of pleasure. Max flutters over both of you, unsure if he should keep pushing the limit, but both you and Daniel yell confirmations of “Green!” that have Max ripping off his briefs, reaching between his legs and whimpering as he carefully tugs out the plug he’s had in for the entire time.

Daniel’s eyes roll in disbelief, his brain exhausted to the point where he can’t string together any words to communicate his confusion.

Max huffs out a hysterical giggle, one hand stroking along his cock as he tosses the plug off the side of the bed. “Fuck–you were in the shower forever, Daniel. I’ve had that in for too long.”

The younger man shakes as he lowers himself on Daniel’s cock, bottoming out with a whimper as he mouths down at Daniel, “Just one more, baby, okay? Make me come, yeah?”

The older man’s moan is curdled with overstimulation, but he finds the will to get his feet underneath him and shakily thrust upwards into Max, hoping somehow that that’s enough. Max lets his head fall back in pleasure, thankful for the moving pressure of Daniel’s cock inside of him rather than the consistent annoyance of the plug holding him open. Coupled with the stretch of his rim and his hand furiously twisting along his length, Max reaches his peak quickly.

Before taking the plunge, he chokes out words of praise at Daniel and you rush to do the same, understanding that Max is attempting to push Daniel over the edge as well. You see tears of frustration build in Daniel’s eyes as he struggles to fully give in, and you fall forward to tug at his nipples with your teeth, reinvigorating Daniel’s attempts at slipping from the silk ties. At the sight, Max shouts, body tightening and then relaxing as he strokes out ribbons of cum. Daniel’s hips stutter when the first drop of cum lands on his skin and you feel his lungs halt as the strongest orgasm—most likely dry, at that—wreaks havoc upon his body.

His body goes limp underneath the two of you, and his hands droop in their binds. You speedily untie Daniel’s arms as Max slowly slips off the man’s rapidly softening length, trying to lessen any unwanted stimulation for the unaware Australian. You catch his arms before they fall against the bed, rubbing your hands against them to coax proper blood flow in them. Spent, Max stumbles to Daniel’s side, taking one arm out of your hands and matching your movements.

“Good job, liefje,” Max breathes out, smiling up at you with an exhausted smile, his hair drenched with sweat and falling in front of his eyes. You blush and kiss him sweetly, “It was your idea!”

Max shakes his head, pausing his hands to reach down and brush Daniel’s curls off his forehead, “No; you made half of the plan. So, it was our idea.”

The Australian groans, eyes fluttering open but they’re still clouded enough that you both know he’s going to need more than enough TLC tonight, “ —idea made me think i w‘sgonna die.”

Max laughs, rubbing circles around the man’s temple, “I guess we forgot to factor in your old age as a variable, didn’t we, liefje?”

Daniel’s face flutters in displeasure at being referred to as “old,” even when he’s not quite come down, “Mean, Maxy.”

You giggle, “That’s what he calls mean out of this entire experience?”

The Dutchman presses kisses to both of your foreheads before he stumbles out of bed, “I’m going to grab some fruit and cream for Daniel’s wrists. Should I grab anything else?” He directs the question to you.

Of course, the Australian jumps in before you have the chance to respond, “Lemonade, please.”

© httpsserene2024

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

https://twitter.com/sluttywh0r3/status/1738661113154220340?t=VYLoAeMTbPq_UQ-a7lMuVA&s=19

You were both so horny but you just ran out of your birth control and didn't have any condoms so Simon said he'd pull out only to have you riding him and refusing to get off of him and begging him to cum inside you

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

READ IT HERE

9-1-1, yes hello? There is an attempted murder in progress. Yes, it is on my sanity, thank you.

Seriously, you guys are trying to kill me, right? Because there is no way in hell I am supposed to read that and stay sane. I'm gonna have to take a minute just to get through the rest of this post after the flood of images that just entered by brain.

But damn if it ain't a pretty scenario to think about. I am mean come on, just thinking about you and Simon being so fucking out of your minds horny for each other that you are willing to risk everything is hot as hell. Just him heavy breathing in your ear, telling you how good he wants to make you feel, the vibration from his voice making your clit throb as his lips leave trails of tingles along the side of your neck from the warmth of his lips.

Just the feeling of you under his fingertips has him panting as he tries to shove his hands in your pants, in your shirt, or both if he's lucky. He needs to make you come, it's the only thing he cares about in that moment; he needs to know that he has the power to make you fall apart and it consumes him until it is agony.

Probably wouldn't even make it to the god damn bed before he is ripping off your clothes as fast as those thick fingers can get into them and then immediately throwing your legs on his shoulders and thrusting inside you the second he can; he'd just drag you onto the floor with him and spread your thighs wide. That massive, virile man isn't going be able to create anything more than a few coherent words before it's all grunts like an animal in heat.

"We'll be careful. Com' on, sweetheart...Mmmm fuck... swear I'll fuckin' pull out. Just need ta be inside ya."

(I can feel the flames licking at me right now just for thinking about this lol).

Then you end up on top and Simon is on cloud fucking nine watching you completely lose your mind at how good it feels that the minute you start begging him to come inside you, that promise he made to you about pulling out flies out the fucking window without a second thought. You pleading with him to fill you up is going to awaken that feral part of his brain that he will not be able to control and it's gonna be all over.

"Christ, can't say no to ya ever, pretty girl. Ya want it inside ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

He'd be so out of it, high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that he will not even fight you on it. He isn't even going to hesitate to keep going all the way until you both are a whole god damn mess and you are leaking his cum. Shit he'd make sure you got everything you want by keeping your hips locked together with his tight grip as he begins to slam up into you harder and harder, loudly grunting from the strain through that point of no return. The risk would be 100% worth it at that point.

And you'd be so gone with his cock shoved so far in you that your brain cannot even create a single thought other than to come on it. So what if this hot as hell romp leads to an oopsie; he'd make a great dad, right?

Don't worry, he's thinking the same thing and he's fine with it.

"Jus' don't fuckin' stop."

Give me a bit to write this all out cause I really really REALLY need this to be a full fledged fic.

[literallythegrabber]

Hcs about how would you think they would react at a Haunted house ? Thank you for reading 👍

sorry this took so long, I was procrastinating again, and my teachers love when I don't sleep to do their unnecessarily large portions of work!😁 Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Finney

He's a scaredy cat

He doesn't want to admit it because he wants to look cool, but it's obvious.

He's shuddering the whole time yall are there. You tell him if he's scared, yall can leave, and he just like

"Y/n, don't worry, I'm just cold" he says while looking around anxiously.

"Finney, it's 70 degrees out, there's no way ur cold."

He's in a complete state of paranoia, and nothing can shake him out of it.

Yall remember that scene, when he was watching that scary movie while Gwen was at Susie's house?

And he got so freaked out, even though the blood looked like tomato sauce.

He's like that but 10 times worst.

You could lightly, like a feather) tap him on the shoulder, and he'll turn into Hoppy Hopscotch and flinch away from you.

Won't let go of your hand the entire time, he uses you to stay grounded (sane).

Would probably go with you and Gwen or Robin because he wants them to protect you cause he knows he can't.

Robin

Is probably a little bit freaked out, but he channels it differently.

Like... with his fist.

He's squared up the entire time your there.

He's a bit jumpy, so try not to touch him unprovoked.

Like you just tap him on the shoulder, and he freaks out and hits you square in the face.

"I told you not to sneak up on me! Dumbass..."

"Dude I said I was sorry."

Will probably fight the actors, and get you both kicked out.

Like, I honestly wouldn't go with him, sir you're staying home today.

He kinda ruins the experience, he has you behind him at all times, so you literally can't see shit.

Your parent/parents would ask you "Was it scary y/n?"

Ur like "Well I wouldn't know, you should ask Robin 😒"

While he's walking you home, he's thinking to himself about how cool he must've looked in front of you, protecting you and stuff.

and ur like, "Robin, I had no fun. You ruined the ENTIRE thing."

"😧"

Safe to say yall are going to the arcade for your next date.

Bruce

Probably the best to go with tbh.

Is just there to have fun, that's it.

I don't think he gets that scared, like he'll jump a little and then that's it.

If he does get scared, he'll probably just start complimenting the actor while ur just standing there like "😐"

Yall are just skipping down a dark, creepy hallway holding hands and you get jumpscared.

Ur over here about to pass out and he's just like "nice hat".

Like hello?

He just doesn't get that scared.

But he'll want to reassure you if you're the type to get scared easily.

Will try and sneak his baseball bat in the house (idk how he'll pull that off lmao) if it makes you feel better.

And this isn't really important, but I feel like he'd be the dumbest in horror movies.

Since he doesn't get frightened easily, he'd most likely be the most naive and say, "Let's split up!😃".

(that's probably what got him kidnapped💀)

Vance

Have I mentioned how annoying he is?

People think I have some personal beef with his character, but I swear I don't.

I just headcanon him as a bitch lmao.

But at a haunted house I think he'd be fearless.

He'd just be unbothered the entire time.

He'd probably complain about going. You guys spend most of your dates at grabngo (lame ass date vance) playing pinball.

So it makes sense that he'd rather be there.

His face the entire time would just be "😒", like turn that frown upside down?

He'd probably laugh when you get jumpscared.

But if you do get a little too frightened, he'd start cursing the actor out instead of just leaving.

Like the man is just trying to do his job.

So you guys would probably get kicked out, thanks Vance 😊.

But if yall don't, and you get scared, he'd place a reassuring hand on your wrist, to calm you down.

And that's about it, otherwise he's a jerk.

[inlove76]

are your request opened if not please ignore this but if they are can you make a yandere gojo r sukana with male reader where the male reader doesn't care about anything and is just like meh and when gojo r sukana sneaks in to readers house and reader wakes up and catches them going through his draws and stuff he's just like "uh ok" and then goes back to sleep leaving the other one confused and then after a few seconds reader realizes what's going on and just has a big oh shit moment

yes yes I can

stupid very stupid

yandre gojo and sukuna (separately) x male reader

so as many people noticed m/n was stupid. well not stupid just a little dense when it came to important stuff so as dense as he was he was completely unaware of a certain somebody having a complete and  utterly obsessive crush on him.

for him there was nothing wrong he was okay with everything.....

y'all: really? *judging*

alright let me rephrase that he didn't give two shits about anything or anyone.

y'all: that's better

anyways as m/n was on his way back home from his tiring job completely unaware of the person following close behind him and watching his every move.

m/n finally made it back to his home and how long that took was crazy. m/n was ready to pass out and so like any sane man he got in a shower and hopped into bed his eyes fluttering closed as he got comfy unaware of the person right underneath his bed

satoru gojo

gojo swiftly climbed from under your bed and stepped over to the right to watch you sleep. this kinda thing would have never been expected from gojo but he couldn't help it with the way you were kind to people but also didn't give a fuck about any of them it was intriguing to say the least but hey everyone's got something that makes them special

for gojo it was his obsessive love for you I guess anyways gojo had finally snapped out of the trance like state he was in and went over to your dresser the main reason gojo even bothered coming here was so he could find out more about you.

from his observations (stalking) you didn't like much and didn't do much either so to him you were a complete and utter mystery to solve. as gojo was going through your stuff: old pictures, dairies,notebooks and more he got startled by you waking up and sitting up to.

warm e/c eyes met beautiful blue ones. gojo froze preparing for the worst for you to realize he's not supposed to be there, for you to scream and back away throwing stuff at him. of course that didn't happen as you were too tired to process that gojo the gojo was in your room and going throw your stuff, but to be fair even if you did realize would you have honestly cared?

no. the answer is no you would not have cared and as gojo got ready for you to get freaked out, you went back to sleep

gojo stared at you in utter confusion "he just....fell asleep?" gojo mumbled to himself. gojo knew you liked sleeping from his um...investigation on you (stalking).

he waited a few minutes to see if you were actually aware he was here or not. it took your half asleep mind a few minutes to realize he was here and when you did you sat up rather quickly and wiped your head so fast he could swear he heard it crack over to gojo.

gojo just stayed there frozen and in shock "holy shit" you yelled and then sprung up out of bed

"who the hell are you and why are you in my house?" you asked the shocked white haired male in your room, it took gojo a minute to realize you were talking to him and he cleared his throat "I'm gojo..gojo satoru and I'm here to uh..." gojo trailed off not knowing what to say but one good look at your face and he realized he just gave himself away

"mhm okay yep I'm going to throw this knife at you if you don't tell me why your here" you explained as a knife just appeared out of thin air into your hand

"I was snooping trying to find out more about you" gojo blurted out for god knows why in all fairness gojo could easily kill you in a heart beat are you know limit your moving space but he didn't and wouldn't simply because you were you.

"....creep" you muttered as the knife vanished which was impressive since the whole time gojo has been watching (stalking) you you've never seemed the one to be a jujutsu sorcerer of any type

"if you wanted to know me you could've just asked to know more about me not break into my house and go throw my stuff" you had a point there but where was all the fun in that?

"well to be fair if I just randomly came up to you and asked you questions about your self would you have answered?" gojo asks fidgeting in place

"if you asked yes " you responded simply shocking gojo

"anyways since I'm tired and your here and woke me up you've gotta sleep with me"

.....

......

.....

"sleep with you huh?" gojo says with a grin forming on his lips before a pillow came in contact with his face "not like that you pervert" you huffed and flopped back onto bed getting comfy as gojo walked over to you.

"does that offer still stand" he asked as you gave a simple nod and before you knew it you were being squished into his chest as he rubbed you back soothingly "your still a creep" you mutter and fall asleep

"your mine" gojo mumbled and then fell asleep

Ryomen Sukuna

since sukuna was a curse it wasn't really all that hard to get information about you yet he still found it hard very hard.

even as sukuna looked through your stuff he still couldn't find anything it was like you were a locked book nothing could get out

with that being said and done as sukuna looked through your stuff he could sense you were waking up he turned around as soon as you sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes even though it didn't work

'shit shit shit' sukuna thought as he looked over at you. red eyes meeting half asleep e/c eyes. sukuna didn't care if anyone liked him or not but the thought of YOU hating him. it hurt, he didn't want the second person he loved to leave not again he couldn't lose you he just couldn't

sukuna walked over to you and cupped your cheeks "go back to sleep" he said basically pleading

what he didn't expect was for you to listen and go right back to sleep "he...went back to sleep?" sukuna muttered to himself as he gazed down at you he was surprised to say the least

you just caught someone in your home correction you just caught a curse in your house and you went back to sleep so easily ,

he stared at you for awhile waiting for you to realize there's someone in your house, it took you a minute are two but you finally did get someone was in your house and sat up

"who are you"

"sukuna"

you both looked at eachother before you hopped up "HOLY SHIT" you yelled as you got out your pocket knife.

"you sleep with a knife" sukuna asked surprised and impressed "you don't" you responded

after some more talking you and sukuna started getting along even tho you just caught him going through your stuff

"what's your favorite food?" sukuna asked as he had you in his lap playing with your h/c hair.

"f/c" you answered as he smiled

"you know you were quite calm when you first saw me in here why?" sukuna asked as you looked forward "well because you didn't come off as threat well not much of a threat" you answered "oh really" sukuna said as he moved his hands from you hair to you waist and started rubbing down

you didn't think much of it until his hands went inside your shirt and started playing with your nipples "ngh sukuna what are you doing" you half moaned out as his hands kept twisting and pulling at your hard nipples

and it ends here cause this is supposed to be fluff

[sweatervest-obsessed]

To Make Sure I Stay Sane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~4k

TW: Blood, Torture, swearing, guns, police, violence, knives, trauma, slight ptsd but horrible coping mechanisms, mental illness, depression, ANGST.

A/N: I'm picturing season 4 Spence but y'all can picture whichever one you want. Inspired by Six Below by Flipturn! I thought y'all deserved an extra Spencer bit since I made you wait so long for the last one. A sweet treat if you will. Enjoy babes!!

I am a man on the run Running on two empty lungs Running from my own mind And things I hide inside Some call it sweet temptation

Only a handful of people get the extreme privilege of having their cover blown by the FBI, specifically the BAU, and even more specifically, Derek Fucking Morgan. 

If he had followed orders, and kept his mouth in line, then maybe this would have turned out better, maybe you’d be back in your house, checked in with your handler, and able to sleep for another night. But no. He pulls you over in the middle of the bar you worked at, and regardless of how hard you tried to get away from him, your efforts were ignored. He then ambushed you in the parking lot, trying to get you to listen. Talking to a fed could get you killed, and you were about to face that fear.

Freezers are quite comfortable when you’ve worked in the restaurant industry for long enough, but something about the way the mold perfumed the air in this one really seemed to bug the shit out of you. 

You had been trying to keep track–maybe 36 hours— of how long you had been tied to this chair. You’ve only seen three people, but considering you had seen so many places struggling for able bodies, having three goons to rotate watch on someone was very impressive to you. If you weren’t tied to the chair, and not an undercover fed, and it was a different life, maybe that third one would have been your type. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the freezer squeaking open, and a woman walked in.

“Safya…”

“Alice.” She nodded, pulling up a chair across from you. The slightly attractive goon left the room, closing the freezer door behind him.

“You know why you’re here…”

You shook your head. “No I–”

“--I’ll let you know when you can speak and defend yourself, yes?”

You nodded and she continued. “Now. I was told you had been speaking to the same FBI agent who’s been pushing doors open that should stay closed. Is this true?”

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“And what did he ask you?”

“About y-you, and about what you and I-I had been, um, doing together.” You licked your lips, trying to speed up your breathing–maybe you should have become an actress, and then all of this could be stopped with a simple shout from a director hiding behind some hidden cameras. 

“And what did you say exactly?” The gun on her thigh flashed as she leaned forward, catching the reflection of the singular light. 

“I told him I only knew you as a customer.” You looked at her, telling the honest to god truth. “That you we-were one of my regulars, and that was it. W-whatever your business is, is-is-isn’t my business.” 

She nodded. “Good good. It’s such a shame really…”

Your eyes widened. “W-what?” 

“Because I know you’re telling the truth. But if he was suspecting you, that means I have to let you go…” 

“Saf please, I-I-I’ll keep my mouth shut, I-’ll Never–”

“Stop.” You closed your mouth, panicking outwardly as you internally tried to come up with some sort of escape plan, or at least some way to tell your cat how much you were going to miss him. “You have three hours once I let you go, to disappear. Understood? If I so much as hear that you’re back, it’s over. Clear?” 

You nodded, suddenly formulating a completely different plan. If she watched you get into an unmarked van when you got out, you’d be fucked, completely. And you’d be jeopardizing the mission. 

So now, instead of getting to do your job, you had to change everything about yourself, and go into hiding without letting anyone know for at least a month, doing your best to let the investigation continue without you.

So that’s what you did. Packed up everything into a small suitcase, gave your cat of three years to the girl on the corner, and picked up your last paycheck, before disappearing to god knows where. Running away.  

Sometimes I don't trust myself Cameras on old empty shelves I live inside my brain To make sure I stay sane Good God, I think I need help

You had been fine, really, a month in some small town in the middle of Georgia, nowhere really. You had never been there before, but truthfully it was very peaceful, and across the country from your assignment. You had been there for only a month before Derek Morgan showed up at your door. 

You were in biker shorts, a large sweater for a top–very Princess Diana of you. It was slightly colder, since it was now March, but you weren’t up in the mountains, allowing you to have some sort of reprieve from the freezing winters you used to live with. 

Opening the door made you mad. You were glaring at him, and a man who seemed to be his partner. 

“You need to leave. Now.” You tried to slam the door, but Derek was quicker than you were, pushing the door open causing you to stumble back. Once the two of them were in your house, you quickly shut the door. The blinds and windows were never opened anyways, and the entrances and exits were all locked, save for the front door. 

“Listen here you motherfucker. Do you know how much you’ve ruined my life?! Because I could fucking tear you apart with my bare tee–”

“Woah, woah, calm down there Agent.”

His partner watched as you flinched at the title, having not heard it in over a month. 

“I don’t think you understand. If I’m seen with you here, I’m dead. Three years of my life, down the drain because you couldn’t take no for an answer. Not very consentual of you Derek. Get out of my house.”

His partner spoke up. “Don’t you want to know why we’re here?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“I’m sorry Agent Morgan blew your cover.” said the skinnier of the two, but you didn’t look at him, still glaring at the Agent in question. 

“Thank you so much. That makes everything sooo much better.” 

“We want to put you in protective custody.” 

That got you to tear your eyes away from Derek and look at the other agent. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“I-I-I’m Doctor Spencer, uh, Reid.” You raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden stutter, his sudden nervousness. 

“What, are you not sure?” 

“N-No–Yes, I mean.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something about flustering Doctor Reid made him seem incredibly endearing, almost cute. But if this was some other life, you meeting him could have been different and under much better circumstances.

“I’m sure that’s my name.” He mumbled, causing Derek to snort at Reid’s inability to look at you again. 

“You think that’s funny Derek? Ruining other people’s day to feel tough?” You crossed your arms, lips pursed, ready to deck this guy in the face. 

“Okay sweetheart—”

Before he could finish even his thought, you had him pinned down on the ground: face down, ass up. His arm was out straight behind him while you had a death grip on his wrist. Your knee was on his back, holding him in place as you whispered in his ear. “Call me sweetheart again and I won’t stop at just the arm lock. We clear?” 

Derek let out a groan and tried to shift under you, but you dug your knee a little further into the point between his shoulder blades. “What was that Agent Morgan?” 

“yes–Yes! Okay, jesus.” He grumbled, sighing in relief as you got off of him, looking over at Spencer. 

“Would you like something to drink, Doctor Reid? I have tea or coffee…water?” 

Spencer was simply dazed with the way you switched between agent and yourself, it was surely some skill you had to pick up while being in deep cover for three years. 

“Spencer?” 

“Y-Yes, sorry. Water would, uh, water would be good. Thank you.” 

That’s when you killed him, stopping his heart in one simple motion. 

It wasn’t even a full one, but the corner of your mouth lifted up, providing him with a glimpse of a genuine smile, a crack in the stone cold facade you placed to protect yourself. He smiled back as Derek got up, rubbing his wrist and grumbling in pain. 

“I assume you like black coffee Agent Morgan.” you called from the kitchen, to which all you got was a grumbled “yes, please.” followed by what seemed like a laugh from Reid. 

Spencer looked around the bare walls, the bare furniture. There were pictures around, sure, but they were of places you had visited, or at least pretended to. There was only one photo frame with a picture of yourself, and based on the edges, he could tell it was folded. From far away it seemed to be just a picture of you; your family hiding in plain sight. 

He picked up the image and tried to determine how old you were. All he knew was that this photo was taken at some sort of wedding. You were laughing, smiling, dancing. 

“I don’t know why I keep that picture anymore.” You spoke softly from the kitchen doorway. “Maybe it’s to remind me that I’m not just an echo of who I was before cover, ya know? I feel like I have to close her off sometimes.” You placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of Derek, along with a packet of sugar. (Derek was astonished that you had managed to deduce that about him). You also placed Spencer’s water down on the coffee table, sitting on the ottoman that was in front of the couch. “Sometimes I don’t trust myself. Feel like I have to keep her with me to make sure I stay sane. Like I constantly have to remind myself that I’m doing this bullshit for a reason.”

“That’s why we’re here.” 

You nodded at Derek, flashing a quick, but hard, smile in his direction. 

“You mentioned Witness Protection?” 

But they say: "oh to be young" Innocent of what's to come

Witness Protection felt like a fucking joke. They had moved you to D.C. so that your favorite, and least favorite, FBI Agents could keep an eye on you. They would check in periodically, calling you from across the same park, walking past you on the street, it was bullshit really. And they had these two idiot, beat cops staying outside of your house each night, with a second undercover bodyguard who followed you around no matter where you went. 

Suddenly you were more paranoid than before because now you knew people were watching you. Just because they claimed to be the good guys didn’t ease any sort of panic you felt. 

Good was subjective. Good for who?

But It was lonely. You were bored. 

You were young. You were hot. You wanted to go out. 

Obviously this was immediately vetoed by your favorite FBI agent, who was no longer your favorite at the moment. 

“You’re ridiculous if you think you’re losing your tail and sneaking off to a club. That is so unsafe Y/N. Do you even know how many people get kidnapped from clubs, especially women? It’s the perfect hunting grounds for rapists and killers and—”

“So come with me.” You bit the side of your cheek, trying not to smile too heavily at yourself in the mirror as you continued to fix up your hair. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not? You get to personally guarantee my safety, plus, you don’t have to drink. You can just be my chaperone. Please Spencer! I haven’t been allowed to go out for the past three and a half years.” 

You continued on when he started to protest again. “I’m going out Spence. Whether you come is completely up to you.” 

You took his prolonged silence as a victory. “Pick me up at 9 then Lover Boy.” You went to hang up the phone before quickly throwing in a “No sweater vests!”

Oh, to be beautiful, each mistake excusable Give into sweet temptation

Somewhere in between the phone calls and the quick brushes past one another, you had fallen for Spencer. The attention to detail, the way he knew everything under the sun and yet nothing at all, the way he would swipe his hand over yours as he sat on a park bench next to you, two companions posing as strangers. 

He would tell you the most fantastical stories, most of which came from what his mother used to read to him. Listening to the way he spoke, the way he would ramble on about anything you could possibly image. You could hear him sighing now, fantasizing about the night to come, the date you had set up for the both of you. He was never one to make the first move.

Which is why you suddenly became nervous at the idea of Spencer seeing you like this. Party girl outfit, hair done, makeup perfectly executed, tits out. Was this who you even were? What if Spencer saw you dressed like this and realized you were just some regular girl, and not this person he had been talking to for the past six months.

It’s not like you had time to change, considering there was knocking at your door, causing you to quickly exit the bedroom and open the door. 

 You barely had time to register who it was before a cloth was pressed over your mouth, and suddenly the world was black. 

So, tell me what do I do? Am I just playing a fool? That never learned to grow old And still has no self-control

Warm. It was too warm. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to open them just yet, but it felt like you were back in the southwest. Your wrists tried to circle, but failed stunningly considering they were zip tied behind your back on whatever shitty wooden chair you were stuck on. 

“She’s alive!” goosebumps. Your body entered fight or flight mode, immediately causing your eyes to pop open, squinting until they adjusted to the shitty lighting. 

“Safya.” You mumbled. “Long time, no see.” 

“You look so good dearest. What were your plans? Night on the town with that sweet Doctor?” 

You didn’t react, only looking straight ahead at her, mentally preparing yourself for whatever she was about to throw at you. 

“Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll get you to talk soon enough. You had to have assumed we would find you, I mean really. How foolish did you become? And lacking in such self control–it’s embarrassing.” 

You felt your entire world crumble, dissolve into nothingness. But your face stayed motionless, betraying nothing. All you could do was hope that Spencer was not far behind them, dealing with whatever it was that you had managed to get yourself into. 

I know what everybody knows Die young or you can grow old Until they bury you six below

There was a joke you had with your dad growing up: “Die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” He would crack that joke at you when you would shit on his old people music or when he would take away your phone because you were grounded. 

Part of you had never fully understood the meaning of the phrase until tonight. 

Your face was pristine, not a scar on it. 

The rest of your body? The same could not be said. 

It ached. You were exhausted. And somehow you barely remembered any of it, just knowing that sometimes she would use knives, other times you wouldn’t be so lucky. 

So when she placed the gun against your head, standing off against the BAU, you finally got it. The trauma, the scars, the emotional devastation. 

Even worse, you sighed out of relief when she did.

She had spent over thirty hours torturing you, except you had no idea of what day it even was, considering you were halfway here, mind retreating in on itself.

You had been investigating Safya for her innate tortures of those close to her–it’s why you were undercover in the first place. The deaths surrounding her were all genuine suicides, she would never touch them after they were released from the warehouse. But their tragic end was posted in the morning edition several days later. 

“It’s over.” You heard some man’s voice call out. It was stern. It sounded authoritative. If you wanted to open your eyes, you would’ve watched as the agents attempted to distract the woman, holding you tightly against her own body. 

It felt nice to stand after so long, your legs barely supporting you. The stinging sensation of the cuts and burns melded with the sensation of your legs waking up. Your mind was enjoying the feeling. Some sort of fucked up post-torture torture, enjoying the fact that you could still feel your legs. 

People were talking across you, but all you could do was fall into your mind further. This was a win-win for you. Safya shoots you, and boom–dead. Safya doesn’t surrender, and the likelihood of you being in the firing range, boom—dead. At least you’d be able to rest then, finally able to let the ache in your bones, in your mind rest. 

But then you heard his voice. 

That same voice that had kept you sane while you were hiding away from the world. The same voice that provided the only routine you were allowed. The same voice that talked to you from sundown to sun up, letting you relish in the knowledge he carried with him.

Spencer.

It was somehow still soft, but you could tell he was very serious at the moment. You aren’t sure what he said, but you started to laugh. It started small, your mouth twitching and laughing through your nose, but it grew and grew, until suddenly you were almost doubled over in laughter. 

The entire room was silent, except for the sound of you losing your mind. 

Safya released her hold on you, letting you drop to the floor, a small smirk across her face as the gun clattered to the ground. 

What a sight you must’ve been, barely holding your chest up with your arms, laughing maniacally into the ground. 

She had broken you. 

The smirk didn’t leave her face as SSA Derek Morgan roughly placed cuffs on her wrists and shoved her out of the warehouse. 

Your laughing didn’t stop for another whole minute. And Spencer waited. He sat next to you as your laughs slowly turned into sobs and your whole body collapsed into him. Your blood was all over the floor, all over the tools on the table she had, all over you. But he didn’t care. 

He just held you as you cried and cried into him, eventually willing to let the EMTs take a look at you, on the condition that Spencer held your hand the entire time. 

Once you were out of the warehouse, and stuck snugly in the back of a large, black SUV, Spencer beside you, you leaned your head against the window. There was no recognition as cars passed by, no jumping when horns blared, you just sat still, mind far off. 

Spencer held your hand the entire ride, but it didn’t feel like enough to bring that girl back you once knew. It didn’t feel like living was worth anything now that she had disappeared from your view. 

You saw the photo burn in your mind, watching as the flames consumed your smile, leaving you with nothing but a pile of ash and the pieces of a mind that might not ever be placed back together again. 

So you lived, but at what cost? 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

Years later, you would sit in your new apartment, watching the sunset with a mug in your hands and a blanket around your arms. You unconsciously ran a hand up and down your thigh, feeling the healed marks and the scars that added texture in a place that should have felt smooth. 

Something in the sky told you the day would not stay as beautiful as it had started. Your phone beeped, a message from Spencer. 

He checked in with you every night he wasn’t home with you, letting you know he was okay, letting you know he was coming home to you. You quickly sent a text back, telling him you were excited for him to return tomorrow. 

You heard the footsteps before you saw the person they belonged to. Your name was said softly as you placed your phone down on the counter, picking up the little boy, who was still half asleep, wrapped in his dinosaur pajamas and dinosaur blanket. 

“What’s up bud.” You whispered, trying your best at the moment, considering your mind was somewhere far far away. 

What he ended up mumbling out was some varying words that eventually amalgamated to the fact that he couldn’t sleep. 

You nodded and kissed his head. “Want a story?” 

You felt his head nod as he curled into you, not three years old and still so small. You picked him up, carrying him back to his room, and placing him in his bed. You adjusted his nightlight, before picking up one of the thousands of books Spencer had gotten for your son. 

Once he was sound asleep, you placed a soft kiss on the crown on his head, and slowly snuck out of the room, leaving the door open a crack in case that story ended up not sufficing. 

You heard your phone go off, quietly running to pick it up before your child woke up again. 

“Hello?”

“She’s escaped” 

The exhale you let out was a shaky one. 

Spencer had been there to hand you piece after piece as you slowly placed yourself together again. He was there when you screamed in the middle of the night, and he was there when your eyes would flare dangerously with something more than hatred for the woman who had caused you such grief. You still barely wore skirts or shorts, opting to cover every inch you could whenever possible. Spencer watched as you struggled to stay put, mind wandering as far as it could. 

“Y/N?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Just…”

“I know. Spencer is flying home as we speak. I still wanted to call and let you know before hand. Just, uh…You know.” 

“Thanks Derek. I’ll see you soon.” 

It felt wicked. The smile that spreads across your face. And it felt even more devious when you pulled the bottle of champagne off of the shelf it was so beautifully perched on, waiting for a special occasion to pop its cork. 

You didn’t even grab a glass as you looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at you. You toasted to yourself, swinging out of the bottle, enjoying as the bubbles slid down your throat as you pulled a chair out into the hallway. You unlocked the top cabinet above the fridge where your son could never reach, and pulled out the gun you used all those years ago. 

Sitting in front of the only door in or out, all windows locked. Your safety was off, and the champagne made you feel invincible as you stared at the door, just waiting for her to knock on your door again, giving you the satisfaction of the opportunity to hurt her the same way she had hurt you. 

Self control had never been your strong suit anyways. 

Live long enough to tell your sons Things you learned when you were young So maybe I can have some self-control

[davekat-sucks]

"You can still think he is bi and ship him with whatever girl you like. Fuck what the fandom thinks. Just do what you like." Another banger from davekat-sucks. Sometimes I feel like you're the most sane person in this fandom, I swear to god. Unpopular opinion on Dirk's sexuality and identity: He canonically does not like to label himself. It's in the comic and in his own words. People can cite him saying that he felt like Jake was the only option and Roxy calling him the gayest man in the universe or whatever, but neither of these things means that the man is 100% homosexual. Maybe he felt like Jake was the only option because Jake was just plain the only one he felt a romantic attraction to. Maybe sometimes friends say shit like "you're the gayest person ever" as, like, a joke, or maybe it could have been wishful thinking on Roxy's part since him not being gay might make his rejection of her hurt more. I don't know. It's never explicitly stated. Isn't it possible that Dirk is homoflexible, or maybe even pan? I just don't get people being mad because someone wants to imagine Dirk and Jade kiss or something. It's also funny to see people being all about headcanoning him as transfem/genderqueer or turning him into the daintiest sluttiest girliest twink of all time while pissing their pants about stuff like this. Isn't hypermasculinity and being a man a big part of who he is? Why is making him a woman/feminine okay, while making him hold hands with Kanaya or something is a homophobic hate crime? If we're playing in this space, is it not a little hypocritical? If shipping him with a woman is homophobic why isn't it homophobic to make "the only canonically gay man" into a girl or a flamboyant stereotype? On a smaller note, I know that you've talked about this before, but the same people who freak out about this stuff are the people who totally erase Dave's identity as a bisexual man and say that he's completely gay. He's expressed interest in women (an understatement), and he's dated them. I'm starting to think that people just hate bi men. I want to understand the logic that these people are using.

Yep, Dirk did say that when speaking with Roxy.

Another reason for him to say this as well is to try and remind the readers that both Roxy and Dirk are in an apocalyptic setting that caring about terms of sexuality, is pointless if they don't want to be dead. The world has gone to shit, so things like that don't mean anything anymore. I bet Hussie was trying to point that out when the fandom would only talk about the kids' sexuality despite the bigger shit going on in the plot, but sadly, it was lost on readers back then. Part of Dirk being masculine is also in part because he looks up to Alpha Bro, DAVE STRIDER. If people want to blame anyone for making Dirk manly, blame Dave himself or another version of himself, for only portraying himself as this that Dirk thinks it is right to try be in that same standards. People had blamed Bro for this with Dave, so why don't we do the same for Dirk and Alpha Dave? The fandom stereotyping Dirk into the stereotypical effeminate gay guy, is hilarious when they are the same people that bitch about being in other media. They want their supposed LGBT rep to be taken seriously and not used for a joke. And yet they would apply it to other characters that don't act like this in different series. At this point, what more do these fucking people want? Another is that most of the fandom probably wants to have that 'gay best friend' because they think they can be cool with them and also have them as their excuse of why they aren't homophobic this or that. Kind of like how claiming to have a POC friend doesn't make you racist. The Homestuck fandom, or fandoms in general in this modern time, just hate bisexuals in general. Any sign of straight couples from character(s) that are comfortable in both sexes, pisses people off. Some claiming that two persons of same sex being close only for not to end up together, is queerbait. Whether or not evidence was there in the first place. I even recalled the Steven Universe fandom was livid when they heard Rebecca Sugar, the creator herself, was bisexual. People assume she was lesbian because of the TV show she created. The thought of her still liking guys infuriated them. At that point, I wonder what does the B in LGBT means if said people who claim to be all supportive for LGBT, hate bisexual relationships. Just because a bisexual person chooses to be with someone of their opposite sex, doesn't mean it automatically means they are straight and can't go back to bisexual. It's ridiculous. That kind of one way street thinking is stupid.

[voidfxndoms]

Something Blue (Part 2) // Sterek

Derek is getting married and Stiles, as his best man, decides to bring in an old bridal tradition.

Warnings: swearing, a lot of built-up feelings that don't come out in the best of ways.

W/C: 2,487

A/N: Here come all the feels :)) (oh, and Derek is just slightly dumb)

Read part one here

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:

The two werewolves followed in shock as the situation quickly escalated. "How can you marry someone and not put effort into it?! Look at the state of this thing!". He held the loose tie up. "It's a completely different and incompatible color, stained and- look here" he nearly shoved it into Derek's face, "It's coming unstitched! How can you do something like that to Braeden?! How can you think of no one but yourself?!" The room was silent, the only sound being the heavy breathing of a now completely disheveled Stiles. But the tension in that silence was dense. So thick, Scott's calling came muffled to his friend's ears. "Stiles?" Scott hesitated for a moment. He took a shy step forward, but Derek extended his arm, stopping him before he could do or say anything else.

"Scott," he said, turning his head just enough to see him. "Can you give us a second?" The young alpha nodded quietly, before making his way out of the room. Stiles was still frozen in place, avoiding Derek's gaze. "This isn't about Braeden or style, is it?" Derek took one slow step closer to Stiles. "Of course it is. Who else would it be about?" Stiles blurted out. "Stiles. Look at me." Derek's voice was calm and tender. It wasn't the voice of somebody angry. It was the voice of someone worried. When Stiles finally held his gaze his eyes were red, the tears now evident. "You know I don't have to listen to your heartbeat to know when you're lying to me."; the corner of Derek's mouth turned up into a smile. He never smiled at Stiles. Well, rarely. The only times he did that was to calm him down, to let him know that everything was okay. Except for this time nothing was gonna be okay, and Stiles knew that. "I'm missing something blue. Why don't we finish your ritual, hm?" Derek asked, his hand on Stiles's shoulder as soft as his voice when he spoke.

Stile's mouth suddenly went dry. With hesitation, he rummaged through the pocket of his pants, before pulling something small out of it. "Something blue, of course.", Derek whispered, looking at the dangling keys. "Stiles, why do you want to give me your Jeep?" "So you and Braeden have more space for groceries, suitcases, babies-" Derek's look was enough to stop the amber-eyed from continuing. "Why do you really want me to have your Jeep, Stiles? You'd never give that thing to anybody." Stiles opened his mouth to come up with some stupid excuse, but that's when he realized there were no words in any vocabulary behind which he could hide. And he didn't want to. The whole point of this charade was for him to confess his feelings to Derek. And so he did. "Because I'm scared you will forget me." Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "We both know that is impossible." "No, it isn't." "Stiles. There is no way I'm forgetting you. You're my anchor, my safe person, the one who keeps me sane when everything else around me screams for me to give in and let the wolf take over." Derek briefly paused and a glint of hope made its way through Stiles's eyes. Maybe there was a chance. And then Derek spoke again. "You're the closest thing to family I have." For a second, everything around Stiles went black. He didn't hear a single word Derek spoke after that sentence. He was sure that if the werewolf had focused his hearing, he would have been able to hear the sound of Stile's heart shattering. "That's not what I meant" was the only thing Stiles managed to get out. "What did you mean, then?" "God, how are you this clueless?". Stiles stepped away. His eyes were resentful and sad, but his face was somehow unreadable. "I don't… I don't understand." "Of course you don't, you idiot! I love you!" Stiles screamed, tears brimming his eyes. The room fell silent, Stiles's gaze piercing through Derek. After what felt like a lifetime, Derek's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes staying on the young man in front of him. "What do you mean you love me?". The question came out quiet, almost shy. "I mean I love you. I have loved you since the first time I laid my eyes on you that afternoon in the preserve. And I hate you for that. I hated you then and I hate you now. I hate you because there is no waking moment where I'm not thinking about you, and there is no dream of mine you don't hunt at night. I hate how good your aftershave smells, how perfect your hair is. I hate how warm your laughter makes me feel. I hate how whenever you hug me I wish we could stay like that forever, how destabilizing the sight of your body is. I hate everything you do to me. And you don't even realize it. You don't understand I would go to the ends of the Earth for you." Derek's puzzled expression did not falter. If anything, his eyebrows furrowed even deeper, if that was possible. "Okay.", Stiles scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration. "Maybe this will clear things out for you." He took a couple of long strides, enough to close the distance between him and Derek, before crashing his lips on his. Being caught off guard, the werewolf didn't react immediately. But then his brain started working again, his reactions to the kiss changing as the information was being processed.

Stiles loved him. He loved him in a way nobody else had ever loved him before. Derek deepened the kiss, flattered. His heart was brimming with affection for the clumsy young man who had irreparably made his way into the wolf's heart. But that was all it was. Affection. Not the romantic love Stiles had just poured all over him. And that's when he pushed him away, taking a step back to put even more distance between himself and Stiles. "I- I can't do this." It was now Stiles's turn to look puzzled. "Why did you kiss me back, then?" "It-it was a mistake. I let my emotions get the best of me and reacted without thinking." "Oh, so you're saying you love me too, but can't do this? Why, is it because of Braeden?" "Yes… No. I don't know.", Derek sighed exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look. Me marrying Braeden has nothing to do with you. I love her. And I love you too, just…" it pained Derek too much to finish the sentence. "… Just not in the same way as I love you." Stiles finished it for him. Derek's gaze fell, knowing this would probably be the breaking point for Stiles. And, just as likely, for their relationship. He wasn't as clueless as Stiles made him out to be. He had noticed the glances Stiles would steal at him, how he would use all possible excuses to touch him, how he was always there for him, always available, always prioritizing him. Derek wasn't clueless. He had just been living in denial the entire time. Because he was scared to lose Stiles, too. Truth be told, he was terrified. Stiles's hand came to rest on Derek's shoulder. When he looked up, he saw a faint smile on Stile's face. His eyes were still filled with sadness, but Derek knew what he was doing. Stiles was putting him first. Stiles always put Derek first. He pulled Stiles into a tight hug. "I'm sorry.", he whispered. "Don't be.", Stiles replied. "I can finally stop waiting for you. Now, what do you say we get you married, huh?"

[sitp-recs]

Love ur recs sm so I come here screaming crying begging for eight year/hogwarts era recs... binged the classics and craving more but I swear I've read all of them...please help lovely sitp 🙏🙏

Hello 🙌 I did a couple reclists for 8th year but here are some fics I don’t see recced often:

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Good Company by Greenflares (T, 8k)

With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

What Country, Friends, Is This? by khalulu (M, 8.4k)

When Harry and Draco are paired up for a nebulous “capstone project” in 8th year, Draco suggests they use it as an opportunity to take a free Grand Tour of Europe. Harry isn’t interested in being grand, and they soon veer off the beaten path. The journey to find what (and who) you really want can lead to unexpected places.

swallow your words by icarusinflight (E, 9k)

The truth is, not many things are known about the magic that is behind soulmarks. They'll turn up when they want and not before. The truth is, you don't get a choice in your soulmark. The truth is, not everyone is okay with that.

Marginal Notes by @blamebrampton (G, 9k)

When you’re 18, and nothing is as it was meant to be, sometimes it can be hard to let the right people know what you are thinking.

Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries (E, 9.7k)

A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red.

Slow Hands by eleventy7 (T, 10k)

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

warmest part of the winter by warmfoothills (T, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

Find The Balance by lauren3210, Obliviate_Amores (M, 15k)

After Harry gives Draco his wand and goes back to using his own, they both start having trouble making them work. Finding out why is a lot simpler than fixing the problem.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster (M, 16k)

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

On Our Way by dynamic (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

Colloquy by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd (E, 30k)

Harry's not gay, Malfoy just smells good.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (E, 33k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Inside Your Mind by lazywonderlvnd (E, 35k)

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (M, 35k)

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together.

The July Tree by oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

Seeker, Chaser, Keeper by VivacissimoVoce (M, 59k)

Rumor has it that a wealthy investor is starting up a brand new professional Quidditch team and he’s looking for players. Harry and Draco both want to make the team, but there can be only one Seeker. Will competing for the position bring them closer or drive them further apart?

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy.

Reparo by amalin (E, 85k)

Voldemort's final defeat does not mean Harry Potter's troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell.

[cosmicbucky]

with charcoal hands and spoken dreams, we escaped together

part two, a summary: unable to keep your thoughts on anything but each other, the two of you find yourselves cracking open the door to the world of getting to know one another pairings: bucky barnes x female reader word count: 3036

warnings: minor swearing, awkward yet adorable flirting (that's not really flirting), first date but it's not actually a date, fluff, two already smitten idiots

part: two/?

⇠ part one

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The sun filtered through the window, your curtains billowing in the breeze. The familiar sounds of shouting and car horns honking pulled you from your sleep, and you stretched with a loud groan. You stared at the ceiling, hating the fact that the first thing to cross your mind were pastel sapphires accentuated by long dark hair, and pearly whites framed by pretty pink lips. You scolded yourself, quickly throwing the blankets off and standing up, feeling weird and guilty for thinking about a complete stranger in such a way. 

You got ready for the day in your comfiest clothes, making yourself your favourite morning drink and enjoying your go-to breakfast, taking the time to wake up and enjoy the morning before bringing your drink to your desk, sitting down at your computer for another day of work. 

You let your mind wander as you wrote, but the problem with that was this time it always went to the same place - the smell of old pages, the aroma of soil, gorgeous white cats, browns and greens and golds and oh, such pretty blues. This carried on for a few hours, and you barely got half the amount of work done that you usually do, not able to stick to the task at hand as you let yourself enjoy your daydreams a little too much, and for a little too long.

You felt like you were going insane, and you made the perfectly reasonable decision to go back and see the man again - you needed to thank him for letting you take refuge there, anyway. The problem, though, was that you had no idea if he was there again or not - you remember him implying that he owns the place, but did that mean he was always there? You had no idea, but being the completely sane and normal person you are, you searched up the store and decided to call, seeing if maybe he would answer. 

The line rang out, and you felt yourself regretting the decision almost immediately. By the time you realized you had no idea what you would even say, and that it would be a good idea to just hang up, a voice was heard. 

"This is James from The Planted Pages, how can I help you?" 

Silk and whiskey, rough and tender. James. 

You knew it was him immediately, and yes, you hated that you did, but how could anyone forget a voice like that? Your heart hammered in your chest and your brain lost track of all the vocabulary you used to know - you panicked. 

"Oh. Hi, uh - James," you forced yourself to say, silently loving the feeling of his name rolling off your tongue. "I'm so sorry, I- I called the wrong number. Have a nice day!" you finished lamely, quickly hanging up and groaning, holding your head in your hands. You stayed there for a few moments, collecting yourself and calming your nerves before getting up to execute your plan. 

Though you had no way to know, James was standing behind the counter of his shop, the phone still against his ear. 

He had been driving himself crazy all morning. He hoped to catch a glimpse of you in all the passersby whenever he looked out the window. Every time the door opened, he hoped it was you he saw standing there when he looked up to greet whoever it was. 

He shook the thoughts away when they would surface - he needed to accept that he didn't know you. That you were a stranger, a one time reprieve from his mundane life. He had no right to let you cross his mind so often; though you did. You crossed his mind so much he was starting to piss himself off, and he couldn't have been more thankful when the phone rang, giving him a distraction. 

He happily made his way to the counter, glancing down at the caller ID (he had no way to know it was your name staring back at him) before quickly answering with his standard greeting of "This is James from The Planted Pages, how can I help you?”

"Oh. Hi, uh - James," you had replied, causing him to stand up straighter, feeling a sense of recognition when he heard your voice. No, it couldn't be. "I'm so sorry, I- I called the wrong number. Have a nice day!"

Oh, but it was. The softness, the shyness, the underlying awkwardness. It had to be you. 

He smiled to himself, chuckling softly as he hung up the phone. He felt satisfied, in a strange way. Hearing your voice again let him know he didn't just imagine you, that it wasn't some vivid and twisted dream he had last night - after all, it wouldn't have been the first time he fell asleep in the shop after closing, waking up to Alpine purring and meowing in his ear. 

He let his mind wander once more with fleeting thoughts of you and why you called - if it really was you - as he returned to his work; re-alphabetizing books, tending to the plants, dusting the shelves, and his most important task of the day - playing with Alpine. He was too caught up in dangling the toy high above her to hear the door open, too amused to notice the approaching footsteps. 

"Um, hi," a soft voice cut through the air, causing him to whip his head up, tucking his hair behind his ear as he came face to face with - you. 

"Hi," he replied softly, a grin forming on his lips as drank you in. He didn't understand why he felt so relieved to see you. Maybe it was because this meant he wasn't crazy, and this was further proof that you really were real. Maybe it was because the day was slow, and he was happy to see even the most vaguely familiar face. Or, maybe because it was you, and he had been hoping to see you again the second you left his shop. 

You, on the other hand, knew exactly why you were relieved to see him again - you just wouldn't admit it to yourself. He captivated you. He was beautiful, a seemingly perfect mix of open and mysterious, a magnetizing being that pulled you in without warning like a current on a sunny beach. You knew exactly why you wanted to come back today, but the reason would never leave the vault tucked away in your mind - you didn't know him, and you needed to be careful. This you knew, this you told yourself. The only problem was that you never fucking listen.

You stood there before him for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you thought over your words, before finally breaking the silence. "I just… wanted to thank you again. You know, for last night. I know it wasn’t a crazy big deal, but you were nice, and I-... well, I really appreciate it." 

You gave him a small, lopsided smile as you stood there uncomfortably, realizing it may have been a dumb idea to come back here. 

"You really didn't need to do this, you know," he told you gently, a smile still on his lips. “Come back here, I mean. Just for that.”

"No, I know. I just… wanted to," you replied with a shy smile, shrugging your shoulders a little. 

He chuckled, making music for your ears. "Well, again, you’re welcome. It was a nice change of pace compared to how I usually close up shop."

A laugh slipped past your lips, and he perked up at the sound, taking an unintentional step forward as though he was literally being pulled in by you. 

"Well.. glad I could provide that, then," you told him, an amused smile dancing on your lips.

He smiled at you, a question lingering on his tongue as curiosity danced in his eyes. Though as he opened his mouth to speak, the courage left him and he let out a breathy chuckle, looking down at the cat toy still in his hands - and you noticed for the first time one of them was a prosthetic, the black and gold a stark contrast to the pink flirt pole it held within its grasp. 

“I’m James, by the way,” he said softly, looking back at you with a sheepish smile. 

The words ‘I know’ were so close to tumbling out of your mouth you had to laugh quietly to keep them in, giving him a smile and your name in return. 

His smile grew a little, his eyes lighting up as if the sun was shining down on the sea as he realized it was you that called - the words ‘I know’ dancing around in his mind, too. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he decided to say instead, though his amusement was not lost on you.

Chuckling nervously, you venture a guess as to why: “You have caller ID, don’t you?”

A hearty laugh escaped him as he nodded, a grin splitting across his face as he spoke a playful “I thought you called the wrong number.”

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, completely mortified. “I’m so sorry, that was my super not subtle way of finding out if you were here or not.” 

Upon seeing the humoured look on his face and the arch of his eyebrow at your words, you widened your eyes and carried on rambling: “No! I just meant - well I wanted to thank you, right? So I had to make sure you were actually here so I could do that, so I called - as you know, and then-”

“Do you like coffee?” he asked unexpectedly, cutting you off. He had to cut you off because you were too freaking adorable in the way you jabbered, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed and he was teetering so close to the edge already that he was afraid he’d topple completely head first if he didn’t stop you. 

“What?” you questioned after a brief pause, realizing what he asked. 

“Do you like coffee?” he repeated, a faint smile on his face as he took in your dazed expression.

“Uh, yeah… yeah, I like coffee,” you told him with a chuckle, both amused and confused.

“Any chance you feel like grabbing one?” he asked, the silent invitation louder than ever.

You smiled with a titter, nodding your head. “Yeah, I do. There’s a really great place just up the street - this can be my thank you.”

He shook his head, entertained by your persistence to show him thanks for something he thought to be a simple act. If anything, he felt as though he should be thanking the universe for bringing you to him. 

“Alright, alright. It’s a deal,” he chortled, finally acceding. 

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting by the window of your favourite coffee shop, Metal and Moss, sharing comfortable silences and embarrassing tidbits. Neither of you had any clue as to why you felt so comfortable sharing these things with each other, but neither of you wanted to dwell on it. 

"So," he spoke, breaking the momentary lapse in conversation as the two you silently mused over the other, stealing glances when the other looked away. "You said you were a poet?" 

You smiled, shaking your head as you recalled saying this last night. "I said kind of a poet," you corrected playfully. 

"Oh, please forgive me," he joked, holding a hand to his heart. "So, you said you were kind of a poet?" 

You giggled, smiling in satisfaction. "I'm a writer. I've been trying to delve into different styles, so I took a new piece to the open mic last night to test it out, see how I felt about it."

"How did it go?" he inquired, genuinely curious about the experience. 

Grimacing slightly, you shrugged. "It… well, it seemed to be well received, but I'm still not sure about it." 

He nodded thoughtfully, taking in your response. "Not comfortable with it?" 

"Not at all," you sighed, laughing a little. "I think that's a good thing, though. It's always good to step out of your comfort zone, right?" 

He hummed in response, a knowing smirk on his lips. This was something out of both your comfort zones, yet at the same time, the two of you were perfectly comfortable with each other's company. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "You're most definitely correct." 

"What about you?" you questioned, raising your eyebrows curiously. "You said you're not an artist, but from what I could see those pieces of yours looked rather impressive." 

A nervous laugh left him as heat flooded his cheeks; he tried to hide it by taking a drink from his coffee mug, but it did not go unnoticed by you. You had to force yourself to look away, not able to believe how pretty this man before you was. 

"It's just… something I do for fun," he muttered sheepishly. 

"You didn't go to school for it or anything?" you questioned curiously.

He shook his head, shifting in his seat. "No, I-... I did, actually. The world had other plans for me, though." 

Though it was subtle, you saw the way his eyes fleeted down towards his left hand before meeting yours again, heard how the next breath he took was a little deeper and shakier than his last. 

"Story for another time?" you offered lightly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

Giving you a grateful smile, he nodded slightly. "Another time."

"Before we left, you mentioned you were gonna tell Steve to watch the shop while you were gone. Do you guys run the place together?" you asked, trying to change the topic. 

"No, not at all," he said with a laugh. "Well, actually… I guess we kind of do - but not officially. He doesn't work there or anything, he's just around a lot." 

Giving him a quizzical look, you nodded slowly. "Did he… come with the shop like Alpine did?" you had asked, attempting to make a joke of it while still trying to get information.

Snorting in response and almost choking on his coffee, he broke into a fit of laughter so jovial that you couldn't help but laugh along with him for a minute.

"Fuck, that was good," he admitted, still laughing softly. "Him and I have been friends since we were kids, so he helps out a lot." 

"Oh, that's really nice, actually. You're both from around here?" you replied, suddenly itching to know more about him. 

"Brooklyn," he supplied. "We met in school - grade 3, I think. Most annoying punk you'll ever meet."

The undertone of affection in his words made you smile, and a comfortable silence fell between you once more. 

You both had so much more you wanted to ask, needed to know, but neither of you wanted to pry too much right off the bat like this. He did, however, return the question of where you were from, allowing you to happily tell him the story of where you grew up. He listened to you wholly, his attention never once straying - how could it? How could something be more captivating than the sparkle in your eyes as you told him about your hometown, or more adorable than the smile on your face as you spoke of family and friends? He realized with a start that he could listen to you talk for hours; and though you were a normally reserved person, you realized you couldn't seem to shut up around him. Neither of you cared about these revelations though, and you eagerly rambled on while he contentedly listened, adding in a question or story of his own from time to time.

The light began to shift outside the window, ever changing between casting the two of you in candescence and silhouettes as the sun drifted out of sight, afternoon turning into evening. Neither of you noticed the time passing by - or, maybe you did and just didn’t care. It was hard to care about anything else besides pulling a laugh from the lips of the man across from you, relishing in the way it made his eyes crinkle and butterflies erupt in your gut. It was hard for him to think about anything else besides the way your cheeks blossomed with colour every time he threw you a cheesy line, or the soft giggles you tried to stifle.

It was with great difficulty that you managed to say the words: “We should probably get back to our work, now.”

Though a laugh accompanied your statement, the heaviness of it was still felt. It was strange, this sense of ease and familiarity you two felt with each other; but it was nice. It was fun. It was exciting.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed with a small sigh. “Well, thank you for the ‘thank you’ coffee,” he added with a chuckle. 

 A soft giggle left you as you smiled softly. “My pleasure, James.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he informed you amiably. “All my friends do.”

“Alright then. My pleasure, Bucky,” you said with a nod, reiterating your previous statement to match his declaration. 

He grinned in satisfaction, and it took everything in you to not beam in response to how stupidly adorable he looked. 

“You know, as great as this was, I’m afraid we may have a problem on our hands,” he declared breezily, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“Really? What would that be?” you asked curiously, mirroring his body language. 

“I think we may just find ourselves in a cycle. ‘Cause I’m gonna have to thank you this coffee now,” he told you with a smile. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

You did your best to not pay attention to the fluttering in your stomach as you thought about it, tried to ignore the pounding of your heart. Instead, you succumbed to the smile that was fighting its way across your lips and looked at him with rosy cheeks - and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn’t notice how difficult it suddenly was for him to breathe when he saw your expression. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’ll let you.”

[janumun]

Right????? The blood stains on his jaw, the way his eyes glow red, how it says demon in the trailer, that s m i r k, that freaking v o i c e; the way he holds himself! J-Just the way he himself looks like he could wrap his hands around your neck; lift you from floor and yet still make you say thank you! I can't! I can't. x/////x I'm dying. I have never felt this attacked before! D-Don't freaking remind me of that shot! D///////x I'm already dying enough as it is!! I can't stop staring it why the hell is he so pretty???? Like no hell not even ' pretty! ' I don't say this often or at all but this man is majestic! Good, merciful fudge his v o i c e. Oh trust me I can completely understand that- I'm still not over that little trick that Zayne does with the ice; first with the cat and then the seal it's so freaking adorable- and I have just fought the Wanderer's with Rafayel for the first time; I'm only in chapter 3 currently but... I will be a thousand percent real with you I am finding it hard to concentrate much less simp over Xavier, Zayne or Rafayel when Sylus is presently living rent free in my head. x/////x A-Also... I... I can't believe I'm going to say this but... I-If.... This man wrecked something of mine ...b-bed, back or otherwise..I... c-can't say that I'd mind.. >////> Shoot me. I'm garbage. I can't. x/////x I don't think I've ever reacted this strongly about anyone before. ...... x/////x I feel like I was more or less drawn in to a bottomless abyss by Sylus. I am not going to think about panting, melting men for my own sanity. >////> B-But thank you. I am enjoying it so far; honestly more then I thought that I would. x///////x I feel like I would have to take you up on that offer regardless of whether or not I was feeling embarrassed to or not for the sake of my own sanity; so I appreciate it. I-I swear I am totally normal about this...Man... Demon... Whatever he is, hell maybe he's even a god with how his body looks like it was sculpted from them I have no freaking idea. I swear I am totally normal and sane about him. Yes. Absolutely. x////x T-Though.. That being said... ......... If you would ever consider writing about him then I would be begging down on my hands and knee's and would even offer up my kidney and possibly all my material and earthly possessions very.. extremely, e-eternally grateful. >////> Also if you tagged me in any... All. ...Please. [ You see nothing! D//////x ]

I am (s)creaming with you Juno! 😂😂😂♥️ You’ve described the feelings I’ve been unable to put into words (past BARK ARGH WOOF 😆) perfectly for this man. He is a beautiful man and I think the silver hair/red eyed combo was a devastating match on top of his personality and that sin-dripping voice 🌊

Show me what those fingers can do Sylus

Don’t be normal about him, be as crazy as you like with the rest of us, I don’t think Sylus would want you holding yourself back either, if you are to do some serious bed breaking together 🥴❤️

You will absolutely be hearing from me on the Sylus writing front (and on the evening news when I pull down Sylus’ pants and show Linkon an incident to rival the Chronorift Catastrophe *record scratch*) because there is no way I can keep my grabby hands all to myself! I need to get this man down and very filthy 😆🥴❤️

[justwinginglife]

Not a request but a confession, i luv u sm <3 please be happy and healthy. Your writing is what keeps me sane

Hellooooo thank you so much!! Very sweet, made my day. I am VERY happy cuz of KN8 Chapter 115, I got literal chills. I made the mistake of reading it at work and I am a very verbal person so the fact that I couldn't scream or squeal or pound the table with excitement absolutely killed me inside. As for healthy, idk what you call being too down bad for a man with a bowlcut and being completely consumed but it's OKAY because I'm delulu and I feel like Soshiro is good for the soul. So we pretend it's healthy xD

Very happy to be keeping you sane, I will possibly (probably) (maybe- if my brain remembers how to function) be participating in Kinktober and I swear I'll post about other people besides Soshiro but Soshiro will probably still be in there. Also thinking about applying for this KN8 Zine thing. What do yall think?

[malaierba]

Well in other news I think I'm dying (said the least dramatic latin moot u have)

(potentially triggering discussion of bodies, weight, periods)

I just got my period for the third time this month. Like I JUST got it and it's a lot, you wouldn't guess I had it just last week.

And it's absurdly triggering to me. I usually lose my period when I restrict, and I only get it more than once a month when I'm above a certain level of body fat. And right now I'm on the higher end of that body fat percentage, and yes I'll admit it I've been (trying to) restrict but not even that much. I'm being sane and safe about it, I really just want to get back to the bf% I had before I started my last job which fucked me over in all ways imaginable as I'm pretty sure everyone saw lol.

But fucking hell I was feeling normal this morning, you wouldn't believe how the reflection on the mirror changed before and after I saw. And I feel so bad. Like I FEEL bad. Everything feels off.

Man idk this is so annoying, so bad, no wonder everything hurt so much at the doctor yesterday. Literally what's going on. This stupid fucking womb has always been such a huge headache I swear to god, from debilitating cramps all through highschool that literally could only be treated with pain injections + bleeding so much I was left anemic for two weeks after my period every single time, to losing it for 8 months at a time pretty much periodically since 2018 (again, my fault, undereating does that) to the point I know have osteopenia, to cysts in my ovaries, to... Whatever is happening right

And when I go to gynos they never know what to make of it. They wanna put me on birth control and I really don't want to, nothing sounds less like a solution to me. The list of secondary effects are absurd I don't want it.

I don't know. What a completely fucking awful way to start this day, this is so triggering. This feels like I need to correct something as fast as I humanly can, and I know from experience that I'd much rather swing in the opposite direction, even if tanking your hormones does come with side effects such as "being tired all the time" and "being a huge bitch with 0 patience".

I mean it's kind of bad isn't it? 3 periods in a month? My anemic ass that's DEFINITELY not eating enough iron? Did I mess up somehow? What did I do wrong now that's making my body punish me for it

[mayday-jd]

ehehe... ehehehehe... AHAHAHA

hi I just watched the 6 first episodes of fionna and cake (on max... totally) AND OMG I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE WINTER KING EPISODE

warning for spoilers also I'm probably not gonna say anything too deep and stuff I'm basically saying what happened, stuff I've heard and some personal comments

alr now that that's how of the way...

I LOVED THIS EPISODE SO MUCH I WAS LITERALLY KICKING AND FLAPPING AROUND IN MY BLANKET WHEN IT CAME ON

does that mean what mainly motivated me watching fionna and cake was the winter king episode?? noooo... (lies)

now let's get into this episode fr

I LOVED THE WINTER KING which really isn't that surprising I think I mean I've been seeing him literally EVERYWHERE on my feed in all my apps

his silly and whimsy have charmed me

ALSO HE'S VOICED BY BRIAN DAVID GILBERT LITERALLY *THE* BDG ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

the universe of the winter king is very interesting imo like you meet him and you could think "oh this is a universe where simon didn't let himself go batshit crazy from the crown" and then you get to the song

the thing about the song– which bdg KILLED the vocals of he has an amazing voice I can see why they wanted him to voice the winter king and I also follow the person who animated this on insta (@ smallbuanimation)– is that the winter king doesn't really explain how he beat the crown's power/madness

he's generally really vague about it saying stuff like "through sheer force of will" or "hard? it's as simple as manifesting your own reality" along with "and I conquered the crown" which wow dude didn't know you were that great of a motivational speaker but that doesn't explain jack shit

and compared to simon the winter king acts off like when simon mentions if there's a betty which could be general curiousity or because winter king is such a cheery, happy guy compared to sad, depressed loser that is simon (I swear I love him) and the winter king just LAUGHS. IN. HIS. FACE.

"betty?.. OH! THE DEAD ONE!" DUDE????

and just back on the winter king acting different than simon

he also comments about how when simon gets the duplicate version of the winter king's crown he can make an ice betty since he seems to upset about her not existing in this universe (his included) but then says that he was joking and how that would be unethical WHEN HE LITERALLY MADE AN ICE MARCELINE?? LIKE YOU CAN SEE HER PUDDLE OF WATER WHEN THE WINTER KINGDOM MELTS AT THE END

like he's so cheery and confident compared to our favorite loser and miserable old man simon which you would think it's an affect of the crown (which it is) but it's still cuz the winter doesn't act completely like ice king since ice king wants to be loved to an obsessive degree which winter king lacks and he's frankly a little dumb 😭

the winter king is like all the good parts of both simon and the ice king so smart, sane but confident and "radical" as he called himself (hehehe I love this guy)

which is just really interesting since for basically the first half of the episode before candy queen comes in (who I'll talk about more later) the winter king is portrayed as the "better" version of simon AND ice king like simon is just fascinated at how functional and level headed winter king seems to be and winter ALSO seems to think of himself as a better even superior version of simon and ice king which is why he's kind of insistant on simon getting a version of HIS crown

[doublegoblin]

Get To Know My OC (Andrea time)

Thank ya to the ever cool @asterhaze for the tag (wasn't popping up for a notif but I did see my little name in your bunches of people)

I've done this for Alex and Dave (I think lol) so this time I'll be filling this one out for the lovely Andrea; second in command to Alex and honestly the one who helps keep them sane. Let's go!

Are you named after anyone? 

To be perfectly honest; maybe? I don't often talk about it, but, back when I first came here, back when I had those memories still; there was just something about that name that stuck to me. I'm not sure if it was that portion of me's name, someone we liked, or like...whatever else. I still really like it, and it feels like it suits me. Though if I was looking for a change I'd probably go with something like a Rebecca or Sally. Best friends before I started working for the large and looming. Like they still are my best friends...I think? We chat every once in a while but what with work and all...I'm sorry, that wasn't part of the question!

When was the last time you cried? 

Saw a really cute bunch of Dreamers hanging out on the park benches before coming here so uh...I'll let you put those pieces together.

Do you use sarcasm? 

Depends on who I'm around. Most of the other co-workers are fine but uh, boss and big boss? Yeah, nah, it'd turn into one of those moments where you try and make a joke but then that other person makes it out into a whole big lecture. Alex I think would be more likely to tolerate if not understand it, I mean they've tried their hand at it before anyway. Dave on the otherhand...good luck explaining the nuance of that kind of thing to a god. I swear, you'd have a better chance trying to convince him to change the uniform mandate.

Do you have kids? 

Mostly the new batch of newbies that stumble in. Unless you mean the other part of me? Then I have no freakin' idea!

What’s the first thing you notice about people? 

How well they can take a little ribbing. Most people are pretty chill and even tag along. But some, hooo boy, they throw a giant fit! "Oh give it back!" this "How did you even get ahold of it?" that. Bunch of killjoys.

 What’s your eye color? 

So! The shade I'm going with now is like a mix of a soft lavender with an undercut of hazel! When I get bored of it I'm sure I'll change. I love lavender though! Oh my gosh it has to be one of the best colors of the visible spectrum! I haven't tried ultraviolet though...ya know what, think I got a new style to try out.

Scary Movies or Happy Endings? 

Every waking moment here is a nightmare of horrors and corporate smothering...so happy endings are nice!

Any special talents? 

I can throw a knife reeeeeally good. Like, really good. Care to see?

Where were you born? 

Skip

What are your hobbies? 

Oh man don't put me on the spot like this! Uhm...wow mind is a complete blank. I promise I'm not boring! I just...uh...well...I like to go for walks? Do crosswords? Uhm...ugh! I hate these kinds of question so skip!

Do you have any pets? 

Oh my god! *she rummages around in her pocket and pulls out a heavily creased photo* This is Piere! *unfolding the photo you are greeted with the chittering maw of some kind of furry cephalopod * He is the sweetest little Mawlite! He's about three cycle old so still just a hatchling! Now despite his sweet looks he can be such a little rascal! Why recently-*for roughly the next 2-3 hours she enthusiastically goes over every small detail of her pet, the words all blurring together at some point*

What sports do you play/have played? 

Uuuuhm, look I'll be honest with you. If I'm not out working I would much rather set my happy ass down on the couch and snuggle my wittle baby~ But, I was pretty okay at archery.

Favorite subject in school? 

If there is anyone out there who liked anything about onboarding or those stupid preliminary classes I wou-you know what no, I know at least one person. Let me level with ya, I have forgotten most of the nitty-gritty so we'll just skip this question also.

Dream job? 

Despite my bitching, I couldn't think of a better department to work in. Well...maybe the Wildlife sector but then I'd have to deal with that manager and wouldn't have as much time to be home and all that jazz. Though, I would get a sick kit. Knowing Dave though this will be going onto an official record so I'll just say I'm happy where I am.

Tags!: @stanrendipity @lola-theshowgrl @tailoroffates @tisiphonewolfe (Idk how many you have done for these!) @gummybugg @moonluringfrost @mysticstarlightduck

[itzcherrybonbon]

For the Cookie Run fans.

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[Before I start with this ranting essay I'd like to apologize beforehand. I'm really really angry right now. So I'm gonna swear a lot and definitely sound rude. I'm sorry. It's toughness you all need, really.]

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I think it's about time someone talks about one of the greatest flaws the Cookie Run Kingdom has: The problem with shipping characters.

Now, there's no problem with shipping the characters with eachother! (as long as it's not toxic, fetishizing, abusive, minor x adult or incest, like ew, what the actual fuck is wrong with you.)

But here's the problem. Something that really pisses me off about the Crk fandom is how they're so goddamn gatekeepy of the characters and some ships in particular. Like, chill the fuck out. They're just fictional characters, snap back to reality.

For example, Espresso x Madeleine. You people have made me hate this ship with all my heart and soul. No, I won't bash you for shipping it, I'm a nice person and I respect everyone's opinions and boundaries. And I expect you to respect mine, please. Please try and understand where I'm coming from.

One of the reasons I hate this ship is because I don't see them involved in a romantic relationship at all. I only see them as close friends. Plus Espresso used to be so irritated around Madeleine, like- the guy didn't even want to be around him until later on at the end of the odyssey when their friendship started getting better a little. Espresso clearly disliked Madeleine.

Here's the part where I'm gonna sound rude.

The main reason however..is you. Yes you, toxic fans. You all act like Espresseleine is the only thing people are allowed to ship. I've been bashed a lot of times for liking Espresso x Éclair, and that alone added fuel to the fire. And now the damage is done, so next time I get bashed expect me to lash out all my anger at you :)

Hell Espresso can't even be shipped with a woman. Because you people are convinced he's gay-coded. I'm sorry? Did the fucked up Devsisters confirm it? No, no they didn't. This is just something your delusional asses made up and thought it was canon.

No I am not homophobic, I'm literally pansexual myself. So don't even try and bash me. I've actually wanted to ship Espresso with a woman before, him with Chocolate BonBon! It seemed cute to me but then someone told me "Espresso is gay-coded so nah". They know who they are. I'm not mad, just disappointed.

Again, no it isn't confirmed. You all made this up! Let Espresso be shipped with someone else other than Madeleine, goddamn! Ship him with any other character, man or woman! Any gender! Go wild! People are allowed to ship whatever they want, so who are you to stop me? Who are you to bash me??

Mad respect to the actual sane fans, you all are gems. But seriously, let people ship what they want. Don't bash people for what they like and what they don't.

WAKE. THE FUCK. UP. PEOPLE.

THEY'RE COOKIES.

C O O K I E S.

FUCKING. FICTIONAL. C-H-A-R-A-C-T-E-R-S.

People are allowed to ship whatever they want, who are you to start lecturing them when you don't like it? Keep quiet and respect eachother, you wild animals.

"But he's gay!" "But she's a lesbian!"

I'll believe it when Devs say "Haha yes they're gay!", got it? Because so far nothing about the cookies has been confirmed, NOT EVEN THEIR AGES.

And when a ship is confirmed to be canon, again, people are still gonna keep shipping what they want. That's how fandoms WORK.

In conclusion: Please, stop. Stop bashing others for the ships they like, and stop putting labels on the characters and act like you own them. You can't expect people to completely agree with you when you say "Espresso is canonically gay!" "Espresso x Madeleine is canon! >:(("

Like, no. Shut up. Don't act like you own them. I'm getting sick and tired of the Crk fandom, I only stick around to see where the story is gonna go, and also to continue writing my Crk Oc's and roleplaying them. I'm actually scared to interact with other Cookie Run fans, because you all act like spoiled brats when something doesn't go the way you want or people don't ship what you like.

Get a life. <3