#They would be so good for each other if they got past that hurdle! But they're also fantastic enemies!

[sysig]

I like that you’re repairing peepers and awesome’s friendship theres just so much potential between these two

There really is! Obviously I like Peepers' dynamic with everyone, but it really feels like Awesome's was left fairly untapped, which, fair enough, of all the things to focus on lol

I also feel like their relationship has the most room for growth in either direction; like for example, his relationship with Hater or Sylvia feel fairly one-track - with Sylvia they're already combative but their chemistry would allow them to have a very nice close relationship :) And he's in love with Hater, so that one's easy lol

With Awesome, I think they could be really good for each other! Peepers is very "real" where Awesome isn't, and he'd be a good influence, and for Awesome to properly get close to him, he'd have to start taking him seriously which I think would sober him a little bit - Peepers is genuinely a hard-working guy and I think if he was forced to, Awesome could come to appreciate that about him :D Which in turn would be good for Peepers!

But there's also the other direction, if they ended up rubbing each other the wrong way, or betrayed each other, or just got tired of trying to be friends and decided being enemies (again) was easier - their relationship feels very tenuous no matter what stage it's at because they're just such different people, and that dance is part of what makes it so interesting to me ♪ Will they get along? Is it worth it? What would the alternative do to them? I think there are good answers no matter what they end up being!

Also this

[folkloresthings]

Hello darling I have a request from prompt ‘we were supposed to be just friends’. Lando x fem!reader, she work as legal for McLaren, they met at the McLaren technology center, and from the begging they had this special bond. During a party in a disco in uk with his friends, he stay very close to her and try to kiss her. After a sec of confusion, they kissing each other.

❛ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ❜ ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

where lando has loved the mclaren legal officer from the second he set eyes on her and has finally decided to do something about it.

eight months out of university and working in a coffee shop was not exactly how you had pictured your life post-graduation. you had a law degree from one of the best schools in england, but all it was doing was gathering dust on a frame in your living room. nights were spent in front of the television, only half paying attention, with your laptop screen lit up with job postings. it was like the four years of knowledge was itching to be used, instead of idle hands pouring overpriced iced lattes.

admittedly, you didn't remember applying for the job at mclaren. you were so desperate that you had sent your resume to every posting you could find, barely sparing a second glance at the job summary. it was only when they emailed with an interview date did you do your research. they were a formula one team, and a pretty good one at that. the sport had never much been your thing so you hadn't a clue what kind of work you'd be doing.

but it was work. legal work.

the interview went smoothly, then the second, and the third. they seemed to love you and your education. thankfully the internships you had done during university made up for your lack of experience. they hired you and had you come up to headquarters the next day. the drive from london to woking was full of jitters, turning your radio up to block out the nervous thoughts.

"ah, y/n! welcome to the mclaren technology centre." zak brown was the one to greet you by the front desk, with a smile and a firm handshake. you had spoken during your last interview, the final hurdle with the boss, and thankfully you got along fine. despite your age and greenness in the legal world, zak admitted he saw potential in you. they had gone through six other employees in the past two years for this position, all much older and more experienced. they needed a change.

"this is where you'll be working when you're in-office," zak explained, leading the way through a tour of the centre. it was much bigger than you expected, so modern and open. yeah, you could picture yourself here. "we usually would have you here one or two days a week, the others you can work from home. is that okay?"

"that's perfect," you agree, nodding happily. "i live in london, so the drive is only about an hour."

zak grins, continuing the tour and filling each space with small talk; your education, upbringing, hobbies. he only laughed when you sheepishly told him you knew very little about formula one, and didn't have a huge interest in the sport.

"you'd be surprised how many people here don't watch it," he chuckled, his american accent strange in the midst of the english countryside. "ah, speaking of. boys!"

in the foyer, at the end of the hall, two heads whip around at zak's call. both in the mclaren colours, one was thinner and smiling crookedly. the other, well. he was...

"lando, oscar, i want you to meet y/n. she's our new internal legal officer," zak explained. "meaning if you fuck up in any way, she'll have to deal with it."

the three men laugh, bringing your own bashful smile to wake.

"hi, i'm oscar," the thinner boy speaks in a soft australian accent, shaking your hand. "but it's lando here that you'll have to keep an eye on. i'm always on my best behaviour."

lando. he'd been staring at you since zak dragged you over to them, barely blinking despite for the odd laugh. he blushes then, gently nudging oscar with his elbow. he meets your eyes and his mouth goes dry, lips parting like a fish out of water as he tries desperately to think of something witty to say.

"don't worry, if you don't do anything wrong then i won't have anything to do," you jest, breaking the silence. a grin pulls at your mouth with the words, soon mirrored by the two drivers.

"i think i'd rather you didn't, then," zak scoffs, patting your shoulder. "go get settled, i'll come check on you in a while. boys, we've got that meeting in ten — c'mon."

smiling gratefully, you nod towards zak as he leaves — a silent thank you for his hospitality. oscar waves shyly, turning on his heel to hurry after his boss. lando follows suit, just about pulling his eyes from you, but only makes it a few steps before he's turning back.

"it was, uh, nice to meet you," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "hopefully i'll see you around."

biting at your cheek, holding back a small laugh, you nod. "hopefully."

lando finds himself grinning, walking a few yards backwards just to spare another minute looking at you. oscar calls for him and forces the teammate to hurry, shoes scuffing against polished tile as he catches up.

"stare much?" oscar asks him once they're side by side, a knowing smirk twisting upward.

"shut up," lando mumbles, but his own smile flickers. "she's pretty."

after that day, lando and you became close friends. he would sneak upstairs from briefings to bring you a coffee ("extra caramel, of course") and hide out in your office. he would vent to you about changes zak was, or wasn't, making with the car. you would confide in his about particularly stressful cases you would get handed. on days you weren't in the office, lando would text you pictures of him and oscar bored in meetings.

but the worst was race weekends. very rarely did you go along with the rest of the team, as there was little need for you there. if something went wrong, you could fix it from your desk in england. lando sent you updates from each city, everything from the track to sightseeings. you would often reply with a picture of your rainy window in central london and a sad face. and each sunday, you would sit up and watch the race with your fingers crossed. no matter the time, you were there. and when a race went particularly bad, you would wait up for the phone call from lando, needing a shoulder to lean on.

the staff at mclaren began saying you two were joined at the hip, partners in crime, so often not seen without the other. the best of friends.

"hey," lando chirped, knuckles rapping on your office door one friday morning. he had two coffees in his hand, as usual, perching both them and himself on top of your desk. "you going to the office party tonight?"

"open bar, free cocktails, seeing mark from marketing drunk?" you hummed thoughtfully, sipping at the hot drink. "you bet i am."

lando laughs, head thrown back slightly. the knowledge that you'll be there relaxes him, actually letting him look forward to the mandatory night out. "okay, good. i'll see you then."

"see you tonight," you call after him, watching until he disappears around the nearest corner. luckily, zak lets everyone go an hour early in account for the party starting at eight. you hurry home, sorting through every outfit option and getting ready as quickly as you can. the club was on the other side of london, at least forty minutes on the train, hence your rushing out the door with only one heel buckled.

inside of the club, completely booked out by zak for the company's pleasure, you realised just how many people worked in the world that was mclaren. legal was such a small part of it, a tiny cog in the whole machine. it was quite overwhelming, if it wasn't for the fact that you knew so many of the faces.

"y/n, hey!" the familiar sydney accent pulls your eyes to the nearby bar. oscar waves you over, smiling as you weave your way into a hug. "this is lily, my girlfriend."

you recognised the girl from pictures, but she was even prettier in real life. you exchange bright hello's, hugging in greeting while oscar orders you both some drinks.

"it's so nice to finally meet you!" lily beams, tucking her hair behind her ears. "i've heard so much."

curiosity peaks you, head tilted ever so slightly. "you have?"

"yeah, of course. lando is always—"

her words are cut short by a wide-eyed oscar, shoving in between you both to give you your drinks. "ha, hey! let's go sit, hm?"

your brows furrow, only more confused when lily shoots you an apologetic look. she takes your hand to lead you through the crowd to a booth at the other wall. amongst a few individuals you vaguely recognise, lando sits sipping a beer. he looks up when he hears oscar greet them, but his eyes instantly shoot to you.

"jesus," he mutters, quiet enough that only max next to him hears. you look absolutely stunning, your figure newly shown off by the little dress you have on. it falls to about mid-thigh, the rest of your legs accentuated by the heels you had on. your hair and makeup has been done a bit more than it would for work, and the sight has lando's stomach churning.

you squeeze in next to lily, across the table from lando. he can't tear his eyes away from you, even when max tries to strike up conversation. all you're doing is talking to lily, leaning over into each other to hear properly, face lighting up every so often with a laugh.

"so, that's who's had you so distracted recently?" max eventually catches lando's attention, watching his best friend's eyes widen. "she's pretty."

pretty? lando though. she was gorgeous.

"we're just friends," lando explains, shaking his head.

"bro, you've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room for the last twenty minutes," max laughs airily, nudging him. lando scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny the fact. after another moment, you catch his gaze and smile softly. lando blushes, lifting his hand to wave slightly.

"okay, let's dance! this is my favourite song," max suddenly exclaims, standing up with a slap to the tabletop. a few follow suit, and you turn to lily with raised brows.

"oh, no," she shakes her head with a giggle. "i need at least two more of these drinks before you get me up there."

"well, drink up. i'll save you a dance."

smiling sweetly, you slip off of the seat to give her attention back to oscar. lando stands at the same time, smiling playfully when he looks at you. a hand of his stretches out and you can't even fathom denying it, slipping palm to palm and letting him drag you to the middle of the dance floor.

the song is drake or the weekend, something you don't really know, but the beat is so loud that you can feel it in the floor beneath you. falling into a rhythm, you giggle as lando begins moving with you. he sings along, but you don't recognise the lyrics, only the movement of his lips as his eyes shut. your chest thumps in time with the music, the heat of the people around you creeping onto your bare skin. the music mixes, changing into a melody you instantly know.

"i love this song!" you squeal, grasping lando's arms to shake them in excitement. he chuckles, watching on in admiration as you begin dancing again, reciting every single word to abba's lay all your love on me. your hands sneak down from his arms to his hands, forcing him to move along with you. he spins you around again and again just to watch your hair and dress float around you like magic, the lights of the club basking you in a heavenly hue.

somewhere in the midst of the second verse and chorus, lando feels his judgement cloud. he'd like to blame it on the beer, but he had only drank one, and he knew it was that usual intoxicating presence you carried around everywhere. your lips mould around each lyric, having listened to the song so many times (and your endless summer rewatches of mamma mia, as you once told him) that it was engraved on your memory. you looked perfect, the same as every day he snuck glances at you in the office or scrolled through your instagram late at night when he couldn't sleep for thinking about you.

you were it, for him. everything he loved and dreamed of, the only thing that had kept his feet on the ground this past season. and here you were, chest pressed to his thanks to the swarm of drunken guests, so close that he could smell your perfume and the shampoo from your hair. you had used a darker lipstick tonight, he noticed, unlike the usual clear balm you wore at work. it made you lips look even more soft than they normally do - he knew, because he spent a hefty chunk of his day staring at them.

abba fades out, along with the loud and out of tune singing filling the club, and all lando can think about is kissing you. it wouldn't be fair, for such pretty lips to go unkissed. and it wouldn't be fair on him, who has spent hours on end imagining how kissing you might feel, to let such an opportunity slip away from him.

so, he's tightening the hands that are already on your waist to pull you even closer, until there's not an inch of space left between you. his lips around rough, unmoving as they press against yours, eyes screwed shut and cursing the long seconds as he waits for your mouth to respond. eventually, he peeks through hesitant eyes to meet your surprise. your lips, colour smudged a little now from the contact, are parted and your eyes are wide. he can't discern what you're thinking, but he would bet it wasn't pure elation.

blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer.

his mouth opens just as all of his senses wire back in again, the end notes of the song just ringing out when he begins making his excuse. but your surprise and panic fills you so much that you can't breathe here, not with so many people around and lando's body heat still so close. stumbling, you push past him and everyone else that you meet to escape the busyness. the neon exit sign beckons you to the fire door, gasping when it opens and the fresh night air hits you.

thankfully, there isn't a soul to watch you and your flushed cheeks struggling for breath, and you wait until you hear the door shut behind you to fully relax again, frankly not caring if you lock yourself out. but the click of the lock doesn't come, only a familiar sound that crumbles you again.

"y/n—"

lando stands helpless in the doorway, eyes pleading for forgiveness when you turn to him. your head shakes, searching for something to say.

"i... you, what—” you struggle to grasp the right words, eyes squeezing shut. "i thought we were just friends?"

"we were! we are," lando corrects you quickly, striding towards you. "but that doesn't change the fact that i—"

"lan, please don't."

"— love you, y/n. i've been in love with you since your first day at work. how couldn't i be?"

his voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before, urging guilt into your throat until you have to swallow it back down. you make yourself look down at the ground, your heels and his sneakers facing each other, because you know you'll fall apart once you see those damned brown eyes.

"lando..." you murmur through a sigh.

"don't you feel it too?" he asks, desperately grabbing at your clammy hands. "us, me and you. it's right there."

you cave then, heart taking over from your mind, chin raised to look at him. lips turn into a frown, searching his lovelorn eyes for the moment he'll laugh and tell you its all a big joke. because he's lando, and you're just you.

"tell me that you don't, that there's nothing here," lando mumbles lower, gripping your fingers for dear life. "tell me this isn't real and i'll walk away. but — but i can't leave you if there's a chance."

your lips part with a breath, lips dry, and your sense screams at you to tell him no. that it'll never work, it's impossible. but something tugs in your chest and you realise something you had never wanted to admit to yourself: you loved lando norris.

"it'll be too complicated." you settle for excuses instead, chewing the inside of your cheek, wincing when you nick the flesh. "we have to work together, so if something happens then it'll mess everything up."

lando steadies your shaking head with his hands, one on each cheek, staring deep into your eyes. "what are you so scared of?"

you swallow, shoulders raising with each shallow breath. "i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend, the only person i can talk to. i don't want to mess that up."

your confession melts his heart, affection bringing his thumbs to graze across your cheeks. "i won't let that happen," lando promises, tongue sincere as can be.

you wait a moment, scouring his features before the trust solidifies. gently, tentatively, you search for the taste you barely got inside of the club, lips ghosting together. strawberry and beer mix on your tongues, hands wandering over body heat and mouths hungrily moving together like two teenagers in a back alley. only when breathless does lando fall from your lips, hands still steady on the round hips of your dress, keeping you close.

"i'll always be your best friend," he whispers like an oath, a boyish smile tugging at the corner of his swollen and lipstick-covered mouth. "but can we be best friends who do that, like, a lot?"

writer's note: wrote this in one sitting and may have gotten carried away but pls enjoy <3

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve had my share of [Crowley voice] you idiot thoughts at both of them over their terrible communication skills and severe chronic inability to say what they mean. But like. I get it.

For 6000 years, they had to talk in code. They had to express themselves in grand gestures and subtext and plausible deniability, out of fear of being found out. And they got really good at it! They developed a whole secret language of ways to say I love you because they couldn’t say it out loud.

But now that they can—and need to—talk about what they are to each other with actual words, they don’t know how.

Neither of them know how to say what they want, openly, and to ask what the other wants. And (I think this is a crucial component) they don’t know how to fight. They’ve had enough spats to have a 350+ year old apology dance, but they have repeatedly avoided talking about the really big differences in their worldviews and what they value, because those conversations would immediately bump up against the things they try hardest to avoid (doubt and guilt for Aziraphale; rejection for Crowley), and because that could lead to a real disagreement that they don’t know how to get around. And then where would either of them be? Alone.

So they bicker and they have drunken philosophical debates and they make up and do little dances all while not really talking about the big differences in how they see the world. And then when the pressure is on they have horrible miscommunication blowouts where they end up talking past each other and hurting each other deeply because they don’t even realize they’re not on the same page.

Upon rewatch I think this is part of why Crowley seems so unhappy in the early episodes. I think he did hope that once they weren’t working for Heaven and Hell, things would go in a more explicitly romantic direction. (But of course he won’t just come out and say that, until the absolute last ditch moment.) From his POV, he’s made his desires perfectly clear (he hasn’t) and I think he thought that working for Heaven was the last thing holding Aziraphale back. And then they cleared that hurdle and nothing changed. Or not enough. Because the problem goes deeper than that.

And bless(/damn) them, they’re still trying. The confession was clearly so hard for Crowley, and would have been even without the first half of the scene, because he’s working against his deepest insecurities. He can’t even finish his sentences, and yet he’s still trying. And I do think that Aziraphale was working up to his own version of it (he’s so openly physically affectionate with Crowley this season, much more than in the past) but he’s always moved a bit slower with these things, and then it was too late. (It’s always too late.)

But even if they’d both been able to openly say their I love yous, they still have this thing sitting between them, which is that Aziraphale doesn’t understand why Crowley would never go back to Heaven, and Crowley doesn’t understand why Aziraphale would want to. And having that conversation goes right to the heart of how they’ve both been damaged by the system of Heaven and Hell, which is why I suspect they’ve both instinctively avoided it before now. And at some point in s3, they are going to have to talk about that.

[writers-advocate]

sfw alphabet | l.h.

description: just some sfw headcanons for logan ♡ [requested]

cw: maybe a little angst

affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

three words: acts of service. he loves doing things for you. he especially loves being able to do things for you without you having to ask. physical touch is another big thing, that takes some getting to for sure, but when you get him there, he’ll make you feel so so loved. especially any part of you you’re insecure about

best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start)

best friend? baby, he set his sights on you and immediately knew he wanted to be more than friends. that aside, once you’re together, once you’ve “worked your magic” on him as he says, he is absolutely your best friend. shoulder to cry on, moral support, someone to listen to all the chisme from the day. he’s always there for you, even if he may seem a bit aloof

cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

he loves cuddles once you get past his fear of hurting you. it’s a struggle, it takes some patience, but when he eventually grows more comfortable, he loves when you’re both on your sides, the feeling of you curled into his chest, his arms secure around you. any position where he pretty much envelopes you, he loves

domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

sigh… he doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. but yes. yes he so badly wants to settle down once he meets you. he can’t stand when he has to be away from you for so long. he just wants to make your coffee in the morning while you pack his lunch and you take each other to work. if you even have to work

i think, at first, he doesn’t really know his way around the kitchen. very basic things he’d make on the road if he had to. but eventually, with a little practice, he makes amazing food. and we all know he’s a little messy but he does his fair share. never wants to make you lift a finger if you don’t have to

ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if you guys are still a work in progress with him opening up, he likely tries to scare you away. he’d never hurt you, you know that, but he knows (read: thinks) he’s scary. sharp words he doesn’t mean in a voice he never uses for you. he knows how to be cruel. he will use it if he feels he has to

if you guys have been together a while, you’ve jumped through many hurdles, he likely begs you to stay away from him because he “knows” he’ll hurt you. that this is for the best, he’s no good for you. (don’t let him throw away the only good thing he’s got in his life)

fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

the first time he tries to scare you off and you just hold him instead, that’s the moment he knows you’re the one. the moment he knows he wants a ring on your finger with his name on it. the only way you might possibly get this information out of him (because he doesn’t want to give you false hope) is if he’s beyond black out drunk. or if he’s feeling particularly sappy from being comforted after a nightmare. good luck

gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

90% of the time, he’s the fuckin sweetest. but there’s just, a slight twist to every touch. he kisses you like you’re his whole world, but with an air of desperation that seems like he thinks you’ll disappear at any moment. he hugs you like you’re his most precious belonging, but every comfort item ends up a little worn (read: he squeezes pretty tight)

emotionally, he might be a little oblivious, but that doesn’t mean he can’t understand. you just need to be willing to communicate with him. even if he struggles to do the same with you

hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it and what is it like?)

refer to the above. he loves hugs. he gives the best bear hugs, enveloping you in those strong arms and squeezing you to his broad chest. as for how often? as often as you need/want. to use a cliche, he’s a walking teddy bear, and he doesn’t mind you treating him like one

i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

he never says it. it takes so so long for you to hear those three words from him… but it is in the little things. the little touches. the little squeezes. the protective, nearly possessive behavior. he loves you. you know he does. you just need to be willing to see it rather than hear it for a while

jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they get jealous?)

baby, i think this one’s better left for the other alphabet. all jokes aside, logan’s a sweetie. we know he is despite trying to come off as otherwise. but we also know he can be a bit… primal. you’re his. his territory. his pretty little thing. what does an animal usually do to show it? mark it. marks, all over the fuckin place

on the flip side, sometimes he might get a little self conscious. in his head, you deserve better. he’ll try to pull away, but if you pull him in and kiss him in front of whoever might’ve set this off, he eases up, losing himself in you instead

kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

he will kiss you all over. he’s soft about it if he’s kissing your cheek, your forehead, your temple. he’s a tease when his lips brush along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. but when he’s kissing you, properly, especially if he’s been away from you for too long, he kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the chance, leaving you breathless

bonus: morning kisses are always super soft, when you’re both still wrapped in the haze of sleep

look he loves kisses from you anywhere, but what he’ll never admit is that he feels like he might melt when you kiss his knuckles. they’re a source of pain, always have been, and he used to think they always would be. but the soft feel of your lips on the sensitive skin is like nothing else

little ones (how are they around children?)

he’s great with kids! he’s a little better with the younger ones than you’d think. it’s the innocence, the kindness. something he wants to protect more than anything. but as we’ve seen with rogue, and eventually with laura, he’s a lot better with the teens too than he thinks. they know they can come to him if they’re ever in need

morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

after a bad night, you don’t let him do anything for the first hour or so of daylight. he’s learned not to argue with you when you bring him breakfast, and why would he when you sit behind him, chest flush to his back while he eats?

if it’s been a good night, an easy night, he’ll still wake up before you (usually) but he finds you tucked into his side, one leg over his and your hand over his heart. he wishes every morning could be like this as he takes your hand and brings it up to kiss your fingers

night (how are nights spent with them?)

expect many nightmares. at least for a while. sometimes he just needs to get up and do something. keep him company. sometimes (further into the relationship) he’ll talk through the memories. just listen. and sometimes he’ll be the one laying on your chest. just hold him. just let him hear your voice, let him listen to your beating heart, and let him know you will always be here

the more fun nights, well, we’ll leave that for the other alphabet. but he does enjoy a good beer or glass of whiskey, sat in front of the tv with you happily draped across his thighs, free hand squeezing at your hip, your thigh, absentmindedly, as you whine about being sleepy

open (when will they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

if we’re talking likes, dislikes, habits, and hobbies, he won’t hide any of that. he might even invite you along to certain things, or at least to keep him company

if we’re talking something deeper, he wants to tell you everything as soon as the first thing slips. he simply can’t. it’s too overwhelming. both for him and (he thinks) for you. some things he simply might never tell you, but trust that if it’s important, you’ll know it. eventually

patience (how easily are they angered?)

he’s got a temper on him. sue me but i’m a firm believer in the “you’re the best bet to calm him down” trope. he’ll try to push you away but it’s easy to tell when he’s calm enough to actually hear you out, and when he needs a little more time, and maybe your touch. even if you’re the one he snaps at, it’s safe to assume something else was already setting him off, you just happen to be in the line of fire. trust that he’ll always make it up to you, one way or another

quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

everything. he will remember everything. his memory may always be fragmented but you? he will remember that thing you looked at a little too long at the shops. he knows what dish to ask for on your behalf if you’re out for dinner, what to add to or remove from it. miraculously, the fridge and the pantry always have your favorites in stock. fresh flowers of your favorite kind never seem to wilt on your dresser

remember (what is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

the very first time you fell asleep on him. he doesn’t know how to explain it, so i will. something within him was so touched that you trusted him like that. it likely stemmed from his own struggles with sleep. not only that but you looked absolutely adorable. he’s still got the single picture he took of you that night tucked in his wallet. you don’t know about it

security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

incredibly protective. it doesn’t matter if he knows you can handle yourself. in his opinion, you shouldn’t have to. he won’t take any chances on losing you, anything but you

he doesn’t need protection, according to him. but if you stand up for him, defend him, maybe get a little fiery? he can’t deny that it sends warmth through his chest, and makes him want to take you home and show you just how much he appreciates you

try (how much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts)

he will act like it’s no big deal but he always, always manages to get it all just right. he doesn’t go overboard with gifts or dates. he knows just what you like and he’s not gonna go fucking it up because he wants to impress you. he knows you’ll appreciate his attention to detail more anyway. like i said before, his memory when it comes to you is absolutely infallible

ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

sounding like a broken record here but trying to protect you from himself. pushing you away any way he can, though cruel words will dissipate the further into the relationship you get, and closed off silence will replace it instead until you coax him back to you. back to comfort. back to safety

vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

he knows he looks damn good and the worst part is that he barely has to do anything to achieve it. his stupid hairstyle (firmly believe those are just cowlicks) and fashion sense just, work. it doesn’t hurt if you wanna compliment him though. he’ll preen under your shower of affection and praise

whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes. god… don’t break him like everyone else. please

xtra (a random headcanon for them)

if you guys couldn’t tell, i have a thing for his heightened sense of smell. you asked him once what his favorite scent was and he told you something so specific, you bought several candles in an effort to match what he described. little do you know he was describing you. you are his favorite, and all the synthetic oils and waxes in the world could never come close

yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

we’ll go with something pretty straightforward here. if you’ve got a stupid self sacrificial streak, he will lose his mind. you can’t be scaring him like that. it’s one of the few things that will genuinely set him off on you specifically, because it’s one of the few things that truly terrify him

Zzz (what are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

for a while he had the habit of moving away from you in his sleep. the problem was (neither of you knew this of course) that it made his nightmares worse. it’s understandable why he did it, especially after the incident with rogue, but you trust him, and eventually he’d finally be able to bring himself to trust that he could hold you. when he’s finally able to sleep with you in his arms, his hands have the habit of wandering… take that as you will

[bihansthot]

Title: Hiss

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Messmer x AMAB!Tarnished, Messmer x Male Reader

Warnings: anal sex, the snakes are involved, size difference, barebacking

Author’s Notes: soooo here we are, I wasn’t planning to write a Messmer fic, at least not yet but this idea got stuck in my head and I acted on it, no I will not apologize for using the snakes I’m a shameless monster lover and they’re part of Messmer. Hopefully it’s ok? It’s my first time writing for a fandom other than Mortal Kombat in like 6 or 7 years, I hope Messmer is in character enough. As always likes, comments and reblogs are always, always appreciated!! Enjoy lovelies!

A loud hiss echoes off the barren stone walls, you’re unsure if the noise came from you or from the serpents intertwined in your beloved’s flesh. You bite back a laughably pitiful whimper as you impale yourself on your lover’s pretty cock, Messmer is big, too big and you know it but it doesn’t stop you from trying. Your ass is slick from the demigod’s earlier ministrations and the viscous elixir you had coated his member with before attempting to seat yourself in his lap. Your fingernails bite into the empyrean’s flesh as you sink lower, pain jolting through your back as Messmer fills you deeper than you ever dared to when you played with yourself in the past.

“For one so bereft of light, thy body truly is a work of art,” Messmer praises as his large, strong hands grip your slender hips, stilling your body from swallowing any more of his length.

You feel guilty as you were only able to accommodate a fraction of the demigod’s oozing cock, but with the size difference you both knew it was impossible, Messmer’s body was at least twice the size of your frail vessel. Your cock jumps at Messmer’s honeyed words and you can’t help but moan, “ah my lord,” as you wiggle and writhe in his grip eager to further please the warlord. Reluctantly Messmer relents and lets you take the lead, your heels dig into the cold stone of Messmer’s throne as you slowly lift and lower yourself, trying to find a rhythm to please you both. You let out a breathy cry as the empyrean’s thick cock brushes against your prostate with each movement. You wrap your arms around Messmer’s shoulders, mindful of the little winged serpents hovering there peering at the two of you curiously, as you use his body for leverage to bounce more vehemently.

“Gah,” Messmer groans as more of your slick, tight ass envelopes his huge cock, his mouth hanging slack for a moment before he pushes your hair back from your sweat speckled face.

Your cries climb higher and higher in octave as you keep your steady pace, precum drooling from your dainty, bouncing cock. You wished Messmer would stroke it while you rode him, no doubt you would be able to cum from just the demigod’s cock alone but the pressure would feel so good. You squeal loudly as cold scales wrap around your hot cock and constrict, blinking your eyes open in confusion you look down to see one of the mischievous serpents coiled around your length. “Me-Messmer!” You choke on your words as the empyrean stills your hips and begins to buck up into your tight, silken heat. The serpent slithers in circles around your sensitive length as Messmer assaults your prostate and there’s nothing you can do, your useless legs turn to jelly as you cling to the giant pitifully. You huff and whine and shriek and whimper before big, fat tears gather in your eyes as the serpent’s tongue dances over your sensitive tip.

“Willst thou cum for me my little mongrel,” Messmer taunts you knowing full well you have no choice in the matter, that you were too far gone and all it would take was a little more of the empyrean’s embrace.

“Ah! My lord! Oh Messmer, Messmer!” You wail as your body freezes in place after a particularly pleasurable jolt to your prostate. You hurdle over the edge as the serpent coils tighter, milking your cock as cum erupts from the tip spilling all over the bright red serpent and splashing onto Messmer’s taught stomach. You hear the demigod’s breath hitch as your ass clamps around his cock, spasming wildly as you ride out your orgasm.

“Such a good little culver,” Messmer whispers as he leans down to press his lips to yours to quiet your shouts and cries as he continues to fuck you through your release.

Every inch of you is trembling and alight as you drown in Messmer’s fiery kiss, your pitiful noises mitigated by the empyrean’s demanding lips. Tears still fell freely from your eyes as overstimulation short circuit your brain. You cling helplessly to Messmer as the demigod keeps fucking your dripping hole. You break the kiss to yell as the repeated assault on your prostate pushes you past reason, “please my lord, please,” you plead with Messmer urging him to finish and stop overwhelming your frail body.

“Hush,” he commands as his grip on your hips becomes almost painful as he shifts slightly and pounds into you marveling at your ability to take so much of him. It doesn’t take much long before Messmer’s pace stutters and falters, he squeezes his golden eye shut in pleasure as a cry escapes his lips. His huge body shutters in pleasure as you feel warmth spilling into your tight ass and spreading throughout your tired orifice.

You gasp and tremble as his cum fills you to the brim forcing another pitiful little splotch of cum from your spent cock. You gasp and pant as you try and come down from your high as Messmer slides out and pulls your body flush to his to hold you in his embrace. Your vision is blurry from pleasure and tears as you rest your head just below the rather naughty serpent as it finally releases your cock from its coils, it flits its tongue at you, seemingly pleased with itself. You allow yourself to close your eyes and bask in the heat radiating from Messmer’s body as you coo contently.

The empyrean hums happily as his fingers card through your hair as his cock softens. The two of you stay there for what seems like ages, neither of you in any rush to move, Miquella would have to wait, you would rather watch the world burn than leave your lover’s side. Burn it would, those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death, in the embrace of Messmer's flame.

[elzdaizy]

Trouble After Paradise (Part 1)

Warnings: lots of angst, conflict, explicit language.

Summary of short story: Reader and Harry have returned from their honeymoon to a harsh reality and their first huge hurdle as a married couple.

A/N: This is 1 of 3 parts. Enjoy! Just a little short story idea i had and wanted to share with you all.

It’s been four weeks since you returned home from your honeymoon in Costa Rica and you’ve found yourself reminiscing constantly on that magical holiday.

To say the least, things have took a turn for the worst since you and Harry got home.

You were bombarded with mountains of piles of work to get through because there was no one to fill your position whilst you’d taken the month off leading up to your wedding, including the honeymoon.

Harry had started filming his next movie, one that was mentally draining due to his character being a very unwell mental patient at a psychiatric hospital.

You worked from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon in the office but always brought home some work to do which kept you busy until about eight at night when you’d get into bed.

Weekends were exhausting as well, you were catching up with friends and family after basically being off the grid throughout the week.

Harry’s shooting location, thankfully, was only a few hours away up north in Manchester so he managed to be home often between breaks but unfortunately meant that he wasn’t home with you for periods of times.

He tries his best to be at home with you on the weekends but his schedule doesn’t work that way all the time. On average you probably see each other a total of two days out of the week and it’s been this way the past four weeks.

You’ve both been so busy, you’ve barely had the time to live life together as a married couple. There’s a tension building full of stress and exhaustion on both ends of your marriage. You find yourselves bickering when you’re together and getting on each other’s nerves more than ever before.

You know it’s because you’re equally annoyed with yourselves and each other with the current situation.

It’s 8pm on a Friday night and Harry called you earlier that morning to let you know he’s coming home today at around 6:30pm and will be able to stay the full week until he’s off again. He asked for you to pick him up from the station because he had booked a meal at The Ivy for 8pm. You of course said yes. You were so excited to hear the news, you felt tears well up in your eyes. “I really can’t wait, I miss you so much.” You replied before you both said your goodbyes and I love you’s before hanging up.

What you didn’t know was that working would be busier than ever that Friday and now you’re still in the office trying to hurry up and finish off one last piece of paper work to be sent off to your client before the weekend. Your phone had died two hours ago and Harry hadn’t contacted you before it died so you weren’t too concerned that he would’ve tried to since then.

You could cry out of frustration. You purposely stayed back to get all this extra work done so you could book off Monday and Tuesday to extend your weekend to spend some time with your husband.

Half an hour later, you finally send the email and pack up your stuff. You race to your car and make your way home. The door is unlocked when you go to turn the key and your heart skips a beat when you realise that Harry must be home.

The lights are all off downstairs which is odd so you make your way upstairs to your bedroom to find Harry sat on the edge of the bed in just his underwear and his phone in his hands.

“Hi, baby.” You softly speak up as you walk through the door and put your bag and coat over the chair in the corner of the room.

Harry glances at you over his shoulder briefly without so much as a tiny acknowledgment of your presence before looking back to his phone.

You frown, thinking his behaviour seems a bit off. The energy in the room seems low and you can sense he’s not in a good mood.

You walk over to him, a hand on his shoulder and the other hand reaching to lift his head by tilting his chin in your direction for him to look up at you. As soon as you try to lean forward to place a kiss to his lips he yanks his head away from your touch and rolls his eyes, letting out a huff.

You step back, very offended and extremely hurt by his cold actions.

“Fuck you, then.” You throw your hands up and storm away to head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re literally trying so hard not to break down and cry right now so you’re pacing around your kitchen, breathing heavily for a few moments then deciding to pour yourself a large glass of wine.

You almost down the first glass. The second one being poured less than five minutes later. You’re just stood by your kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand and thoughts racing around your mind as you try to figure out why your husband seems to despise you at the moment.

You soon realise it could possibly be the fact that your phone was dead and maybe he was trying to get ahold of you.

You start to feel a pit of guilt in your stomach when you take your phone from your pocket and plug it into the charger point next to your toaster.

You finish your second glass of wine once your phone switches on and your eyes widen when you notice the ten missed calls and five unread messages from Harry.

You read the texts carefully one at a time.

From Harry:

6:09pm - l’m fifteen minutes away from the station if you want to set off now. Love you. Xx

6:30pm - Where are you? I’m waiting near the security box until you’re here. Xx

6:53pm - I’ve rung you five times and you’re not answering so I’m making my own way home now.

7:26pm - Why aren’t you answering and why aren’t you at home? You do realise we have to be at The Ivy in half an hour.

8:03pm - cancelled the booking. If you read this before you come home - don’t bother me when you get in, I can’t be arsed with this tonight.

You heart feels like it’s going to stop. You have never felt more terrible in your life. You feel like a punch to the gut is what you deserve right now and nothing less. And to think, you literally just spat in his face and said fuck you to him, still not realising what you’d done.

You were so fixated on wanting to spend the week with Harry that you’d completely forgotten about picking him up and going out for dinner tonight.

You were a little drunk and very upset with yourself so of course the only thing currently you did was start to cry. You sat on a stool at your island, lent your elbows on the countertop, put your face in your hands and sobbed. Sobbed for your husband and how upset he must be feeling. Sobbed at the realisation of how much you hurt him and let him down. You felt like a failure.

After about thirty minutes of letting your feelings flow out of your system uncontrollably, you composed yourself and prepared yourself to go and apologise profusely. You’d gone over what to say in your head a million times and nothing sounded good enough but you know the least he deserves is an apology rather than an explanation or excuse right now.

Your face is puffy and red from the crying as you shakily walk up the stairs to your room and find Harry is now laying under the covers with the tv on, watching a movie with a deep frown on his face. As if he’s in deep thought rather than paying attention to the screen.

You push the door open gently and let yourself in. Basically walking with your tail between your legs, you can barely look at him as you sit on the bottom corner of the bed on your side. You couldn’t be further away from him on the bed if you tried.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.” You croak. Lips quivering as you fight the urge to break down crying again. You finally look at him after your first attempt at the beginning of a long apology. He’s ignoring you. Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed over his chest.

You decide to keep speaking, “I completely understand why you’re angry and I don’t want to give myself any excuses for-.”

He reaches for the remote and turns up the volume to drown out your voice.

You let out a shaky sigh. A tear slipping down your cheek. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose- look, can you please just say something?” You beg pathetically and Harry’s head turns as his eyes look at you with anger.

“Told you I can’t be fucked with this tonight just leave me alone, please.” He sighs in annoyance before completely turning his back to you as he lays on his side.

You really don’t know what to say now. You didn’t expect this reaction from him. He’s never been this angry with you before and it’s terrifying you slightly because you really can’t cope with it. You don’t even care if he shouts at this point, you just want more of a reaction from him.

He has every right to feel the way he does, you know that. You hate going to sleep on bad terms though. You both agreed to always resolve conflicts before getting into bed because you never wanted to be that couple that gets into fights and makes one or the other sleep on the sofa.

It seems like it’s going to be that way tonight though. You don’t want to say another word because you don’t want to make it worse. Even though you know you won’t get much sleep, you decide to go sleep downstairs on the couch. You could go sleep in the spare room but you need a tv to distract you from your racing thoughts so the living room it is.

You get up from the bed, go take a quick shower and change into your pyjamas before grabbing your pillow from your side of the bed and walking towards the door.

“Goodnight, Harry. I love you.” You say to him softly before closing the door behind yourself and making your way downstairs.

You turn on a shitty reality show to fall asleep too. It takes a few hours but eventually you drift off.

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of the blender rattling off in the kitchen. You feel at peace for a split second as your groggy memory clears up as your consciousness comes back, along with the awful events of last night. You grimace start yourself as you sit up on the couch and turn around to see Harry standing in the kitchen, making himself a smoothie, dressed in his running gear.

It mustn’t be any later than 6am because he only likes going running at the crack of dawn. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet but you know he’s still fuming by the look on his face.

Now that you’re not intoxicated and knowing it’s a new day, you’re determined to resolve this issue very soon. You don’t want to waste any more of the short time you two have together for the next four days being bitter.

You get up from the couch and stretch before walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the stool you were sobbing on last night.

“Morning.” You say with a tired voice as Harry still hasn’t acknowledged you whilst he’s cleaning up some dishes. You’re both facing each other on opposite sides of the island.

Harry looks up at you frowning and doesn’t reply so you take it as your queue to go in strong with all guns blazing.

“Can we please talk about this now?” You plead. Harry just deadpans and looks at you with a look that tells you no as he picks up his AirPods and puts them in as he makes his way to the door to go on his run.

“What the actual fuck! This is an actual fucking nightmare.” You frustratingly shout to no one but yourself after Harry closes the door on his way out.

[chelseachilly]

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

-

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far. 

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you. 

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player. 

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls. 

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.” 

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him. 

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up. 

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright. 

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people. 

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away. 

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes. 

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles. 

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night. 

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you’ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

-

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment. 

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came. 

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner. 

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?” 

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating. 

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse. 

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words. 

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly. 

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash. 

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner. 

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side. 

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head. 

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest. 

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two. 

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back. 

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you���ve gotten in a long time. 

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?” 

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought. 

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing. 

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. 

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug. 

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more. 

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations. 

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table. 

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended. 

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real. 

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles. 

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible. 

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms. 

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead. 

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom. 

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears. 

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?” 

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf. 

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever. 

Which means your guilt does, too. 

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort. 

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. 

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him. 

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it. 

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest. 

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts. 

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career. 

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…” 

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.” 

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday. 

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear. 

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm. 

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you. 

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember. 

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest. 

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed. 

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

[extra-stout-stories]

(In response to this ask for "a short story about a feedee becoming increasingly out of shape as they gain.")

You never thought you would go this far.

It started as a game, an experiment. Just to know what it felt like, you relaxed your gym routine slightly, let yourself indulge in a few more snacks than usual. After all, despite the abs, despite the gym bod, you'd always fantasized about being fat.

Just to know what it felt like. You enjoyed running your palm across your belly and feeling just a little bit of smooth chub where there had previously been nothing but muscle. When it stopped feeling good, you'd lose it.

Your belly got a little softer. Now you could see it poking out when you looked in the mirror, feel a little bit of jiggle when you did your cardio. You weren't able to max out your speed like you used to, and you ended up out of breath when you finished, but that didn't feel so bad. You were still exercising, still working hard. So it was no big deal if you rewarded yourself with some ice cream afterwards.

But you couldn't stop at that pudgy belly. You wanted to know how it would feel to have a hang, a proper hang with an underbelly folding over against your thighs. You figured you'd take a break from the gym for a couple weeks just to get yourself over that last hurdle. You were still pushing yourself, but now you were pushing yourself to finish extra portions, eating gigantic meals that left you breathless and polishing them off with multiple desserts. Just to see how it felt. Once you had that belly, it would be time to call off the experiment and head back to the gym.

It still wasn't enough for you, though. 300 was such a tantalizingly round number. And it wasn't that far away. You were spending all evening on the couch now, making sure to lay out a smorgasbord of snacks and treats within easy reach before you beached yourself and started to gorge. After all, you used to have such good gym habits. It wasn't that long ago that you had abs. When the time came, you'd start exercising again.

300 came easily. 350 came easily too -- more easily than you expected. It was when you realized that the walk to the fridge was leaving you winded that you got a little worried. It was time to ease up. Maybe not lose weight, but take a breather, get in better condition, get your body in better shape to handle all the fat that you had added during your experiment in aggressive gaining. So for the first time in a longer time than you knew, you went back to the gym.

Just a few minutes of cardio left you winded. Heart pounding, face flushed and sweaty as your cheeks and chins jiggled, belly bouncing and slapping as you struggled to heave your fat thighs past each other. You were totally out of shape. It was embarrassing. Would any of your old gym friends even recognize you?

But it was also hot. So hot. Even as you huffed and panted you were getting excited. "I'm fat," you thought to yourself, "really fat."

You tried the gym again a few days later, once the soreness had worn off. You tried it a third and final time a few weeks after that. The effort left you soaked with sweat and more turned on than ever at the realization: there's no turning back now.

You stopped at three different fast food drive-throughs on the way home.

And look at you now. Just getting up from the couch leaves you winded. By the time you make it to the door to answer the delivery driver, you're panting and gasping and steadying yourself against the doorframe just to catch your breath. Moving those hundreds of pounds of blubber from the couch to the front door, from the front door to the fridge, from the fridge to the bathroom and bedroom, is the only exercise you get. It's the only exercise you get, and it's getting more and more difficult.

But when you crash back down on the couch or sprawl out naked on the bed, surrounded by bags of delivery, feeling all those hundreds of pound jiggle, thinking about how obscenely fat you've let yourself get…

You wouldn't have it any other way.

[velocesainz]

Reconciliation

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

A/n: Here is the requested part 2! Also please send me your ideas, I’m in writers block.

Summary: read part 1 here. After a nearly marriage breaking argument and y/n walking out on Lando, he is determined to get her back at any cost.

Warnings: kinda angsty, suggestive at the end, slight fluff

Pairing: Lando x ceo!wife!reader

Lando pov:

What have I done? I just lost my unborn child and my wife in the span of a few months.

I tried to call her so many times but she refused to pick up. I went to all her estates and apartments in and around London but couldn’t find her.

I even called her parents and they said they hadn’t seen her and also expressed their dissent with me, which I totally understand.

I shouldn’t have said that to her. I knew how much the baby meant to her and I know she still is trying her best to work and handle her company.

No matter what happens or what it takes, I will get her back.

Y/n pov:

After that argument with Lando I called an Uber to my apartment in Greater London to find some peace.

He didn’t know of this apartment of mine so there was no chance he could find me.

I knew he would try and get me back as soon as he realised his mistake but I need space. What he said was vile.

I threw myself into the company work and officially came back as the CEO of l/n industries as I had taken a break for the baby.

Timeskip (6 months):

I was at my desk looking at some contracts when my door burst open to reveal the man that had shattered me a few months ago, Lando Norris.

But how did he get in? I had him blacklisted and all the security personnel knew not to let him in. My train of thought was broken as he spoke.

“Y/n baby, please hear me out! I can’t live without you. These past 6 months have been absolute hell. I love you so much and I realised almost immediately that I shouldn’t have said that. I miss you so much please forgive me, take me back into your life” he croaked out desperately

Hearing the desperation in his voice I couldn’t help but feel bad. I too missed him dearly, he was a part of my life since childhood.

I think I was finally ready to forgive him for his words after 6 months.

“Lando, I miss you too. What you said was heinous but I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I love you too, I’ll come back only on one condition however” I replied

“Anything baby, whatever you want in the world” he immediately said

“I want you to be my personal assistant for the month. I just fired mine and I don’t have anyone at the e moment to hire” I told him.

His look of worry immediately turned into one of joy and he ran towards me and hugged me tight

“You have no idea how happy I am to have you back in my life. The last few months were so miserable for me you don’t even know” Lando whispered into my neck.

Finally my family was back. We had overcome one of the biggest hurdles we would ever face. We definitely belonged with each other.

Timeskip:

We got back home after I finished up my work at the office, it felt good to be back home.

Lando came up behind and helped me take off my coat and started kissing my neck, god did I miss his touch.

He took me to our bedroom and took off my clothing one by one.

“We’re not gonna stop until you have another baby growing in that pretty little body of yours love.” He said huskily.

Boy was this going to be a long night.

A/n: my apologies if this was too short, I didn’t really know what else to add here. Let me know your thoughts on this fic and also send me your requests. Kissies ✨

[maybege]

Drunken Words Are Sober Thoughts - FBI 11

Summary: The birthday celebration continues but the morning after does not look as fun.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, hopeless yearning, Josh is annoying af and so are “your” parents

I am not dead and neither is my Hotch obsession, so I am slowly (very slowly!!!) trying to get back into this fic. Let me know what you think, your comments these past months were always an absolute joy to read 🥺

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You did not know how many cocktails you already had thrown back, each one more colourful than the last.

What had started with a Kiwi Splash had turned into a Sex On The Beach and something else that Emily had pushed into your hand with a grin and a wink. It was hot pink and tasted like sour candy on your tongue. Delicious.

The night went on, the music got louder and you did not know a lot of people in this karaoke bar that the group had chosen but with Penelope and JJ on the dancefloor, you were certainly in good company.

Someone was blaring an offkey rendition of Britney Spears’ Toxic but you could not care less. Your dress was twirling around you, you screamed along with your friends and the rest of the bar for a moment you finally felt like you had found your people. Like you had settled in this strange city away from home with a group of colleagues with whom you had always wanted to fit in.

And how could you not feel welcomed when Penelope threw her arms around your neck and professed her undying love to your dangly earrings?

“Let the birthday girl breathe, Pep,” JJ joked, rocking her hips to the beginning tunes of Get Busy.

“I just think you are beautiful, darling!” Penelope shouted over the music, “Inside and out and you are so lovely and nice and you deserve the best things and I hate to think that you think you don’t deserve the good things this life has to offer you.”

Trying to hide how close her words hit home, you swallowed back the heavy feeling in your chest.

“All right, Garcia,” Emily interjected, taking your blonde friend into her arms, “I think that is enough drinks for tonight. How about we go looking for your hunk somewhere, huh?”

You grinned, pressing a wet kiss to Penelope’s cheek before making your way back to the table the rest of the group was occupying. While drinking all night may be a fun distraction from your usually so boring life, you knew yourself enough to know you needed to drink lots of water if you wanted to function tomorrow.

Though “function” might be too big a word.

The glass of cool tap water – condensation pearling off at the sides – was calling your name and you fought your way through the crowd. It had not seemed this packed with people when you were dancing with your friends but the moment you tried to get to a specific place, your way was blocked by dozens of people just as (if not more) drunk than you.

You were about to squeeze your way between two people (the last hurdle to your table) when they suddenly stepped away from each other. You almost toppled over, squeaking in surprise when your heel got caught in a gap in the creaky floorboards.

It would have made for a nasty fall if it had not been for two strong arms catching you around your waist, gently helping you into your chair.

“There,” Aaron Hotchner's amused smirk greeted you as you looked up, “Drank a little too much, did we?”

“Me?” you asked, finding yourself in the mood to joke, “Never!”

A real, genuine laugh escaped the man before you and you were sure you had never seen anything more beautiful than him laughing. His entire face lit up and the crinkles next to his eyes deepened. You grabbed the fabric of your dress, keeping yourself from tracing the lines of his face with your finger.

Not appropriate, you reminded yourself, So not appropriate.

“Pretty sure you are, though,” he teased back, pushing the glass of water towards you. You smiled in thanks, quickly gulping down a few sips. “You are laughing more than usual, entertaining Reid’s monologues on aviation in the early twentieth century and I am pretty sure,” he looked down between you, “Just like I thought. You are wearing the heels I only ever saw you wear when we celebrated Emily’s birthday at that high-end sushi place.”

“Are – are you drunk profiling me, Agent Hotchner?” you gasped in shock, unable to hide your smile.  

“What happened to Sir?”

Hoping he did not notice the heat spreading through your face, you fiddled with the neckline of your dress, trying to get some air on your body. “Don’t tease me!”

He looked … relaxed. Open. A slow smile spread on his lips as he turned the half-empty glass of scotch in his hand. He was the epitome of confidence and relaxation with how he was leaning back in his chair. You tried to remember the last time you had seen him so … not on edge. No moment came to mind.

You crossed your legs, trying to satiate the pulsing need that had formed in your core. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you tried to remind yourself to not give him anything to read you by. Which seemed impossible considering the man could read you like an open book.

You just hoped you could hide at least a few essential chapters.

The dark-haired man leaned forward then, resulting in his head hovering right next to yours. The proximity was dizzying and intimate and you could not help but breathe him in. He smelled of the scotch and something so masculine it made you daydream about burying your head in the crook of his neck.

 “You sure?” he mumbled, his lips dangerously close to your ear and you audibly gasped for breath, the back of your neck feeling warm as you stared up at him, “Because I have the feeling you rather like me teasing you.” He was so close, looking down at you as his nose almost touched yours and shit you wanted nothing more than to –

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Pen!” you gasped in shock, plastering a big grin on your face in the hopes that she would not see the sheer need written all over your face.

Luckily, your friend seemed to focus on your lack of dancing to notice anything else. She did not even spare a glance at Hotch when he slowly pulled away from you. “Oh, don’t tell me you are getting tired,” she whined, grabbing your hand and dragging you up, “C’mon, let's go back to dancing! Swing those hips, sweetie, we have all night!”

You followed her with a laugh, happy to have the distraction, but not without looking back at Hotch.

And seeing that he still looked at you with a smile.

*

Waking up with a headache was not normally a cause for joy but the morning after your birthday, you still woke up with a smile on your face.

Never in your wildest dreams had you expected the night to turn out the way it did.

The team had shown up with you, not once but twice and even then, continued to make you feel celebrated the entire evening. Hell, Rossi had insisted on covering your tab on the condition that you brought your self-made banana bread to work again. Emily and Derek (and a very drunk Penelope) had sung you the loudest rendition of Happy Birthday you ever heard with Reid and JJ acting as backup dancers/singers.

And Hotch had been the one to see you to your cab when the night had come to an end, making sure you were before nodding at you with a small smile.

A smile that was now on your face as you made your way to the kitchen. You caught a glimpse of the chaos in the living room. Chaos that had not existed when you had left last night. Empty bottles and glasses stacked on top of plates that were not quite as empty and the remnants of the pizzas Josh seemed to have ordered yesterday.

The smell of stale leftovers hung in the air and you hoped that a few slices were left over so you did not have to meal prep for the week.

The kitchen greeted you with much of the same sight and you took a deep breath when you saw your roommate already sitting at the table, a few slices of pizza before him. It wasn’t that you were unhappy to see him, really. You had just hoped to have a few more moments to yourself before being confronted with the events of last night.

“Morning,” he greeted you, chipper as ever.

“Hey,” you greeted back, browsing through the tea drawer. Peppermint? Berries? Earl Grey? You settled on a ginger and lemon brew, hoping that it would help you to wake up.

“That was one hell of a night, huh?”

“It was,” you agreed, “The bar we went to had like three birthday parties at the same time, it was a lot of fun.”

A moment of silence followed and you did not need to look at him to know he did not know what you were talking about. “Oh good,” was what he finally settled on and you closed your eyes, trying to hide your annoyance.

How could it be that the person you had long considered to be your best friend suddenly just … wasn’t the person you knew?

Remembering Derek’s comment from the night before, you decided to take another deep breath and do something you had avoided for a long time: Confront your best friend.

“Josh,” you started carefully, turning around and leaning your hip against the counter, “Can we talk about last night?”

“Sure,” he took another bite of his toast, “What about it?”

“The comment you made in front of my colleagues … That was not okay.”

“What comment?”

For a moment you could feel the doubt creeping up. Was this the right path to go down? Was this worth a conflict with not only your best friend but also your roommate? Was it really as bad as you thought it was? What if he had meant well?

My experience is that the people we need to clarify that about usually don’t care if they mean well or not.

Derek's words echoed in your head and you knew you were right.

“The comment where you implied that I was bad at my job. In front of your friends, my colleagues and my boss,” you recalled, feeling, “That was humiliating and hurtful, Josh.”

A frown formed between his brows. “Why are you so angry? Yeah, so I made a misplaced comment, I am sorry, but didn’t we talk about this already? Besides, it was at a party I organized for you, I think I am allowed to have some leeway here.”

You could feel your eyes bulge out of your head. Was he for real?

“I really appreciate what you were trying to do,” you said calmly, wrapping your hands around the mug and focusing on how the ceramic was warming against your skin, “Really, I do. But did it not occur to you that the only people you invited were your friends?”

“You know them too.”

“I do and they are very nice, I'm sure. But you could have asked if I would have liked someone to join. I left before midnight to celebrate somewhere else with people that I invited.”

He scoffed. “Look, I'm sorry you feel that way,” he threw his hands up, “I was just trying to do something nice and apparently that backfired.”

It did not escape you that the language he used was manipulative as fuck and you bit your tongue from throwing words in his face you would not be able to take back.

“I don’t think this is very productive,” you finally said, “I am going to take a shower and I would really appreciate it if we could talk about this sometime when we are both more clear-headed.”

Though as you made your way to the bathroom, the steaming mug still in your hands, you had the sinking feeling that any following conversation would not bring the closure you hoped it would.

*

As if your day could not get any better, your phone rang just as you stepped out of the shower and into your bedroom.

Recognizing the picture on the screen, you accepted the video call, wrapping your bathrobe a little tighter.

“Hi.”

“Happy birthday, honey!” your mom appeared on the small screen. The living room wall behind her looked just like it had done your entire childhood and you spotted the variety of family pictures she took great care of dusting every week.

“Thank you.”

“Did you have fun?” she asked, “Did you get to go out with Josh and your friends?”

“Yeah, uh,” you hesitated for a moment, “Josh organized a little party here but I ended up going out with the team later. We went for karaoke and it was awesome.”

“You certainly look like you had an awesome night,” she teased and you bit your lip to keep from grinning.

“So … how are you feeling?” she asked and you immediately grew suspicious. You knew that tone and you knew when she was worried.

“Good,” you replied carefully, “Like I said, I had a fun night.”

She hummed and avoided looking at you for a moment and you knew what was about to happen when you saw your father sitting down next to her. Even hundreds of miles apart, you still felt like a child when your parents sat together on the sofa like that one time when you accidentally put a dent in the family car.

“Remember our conversation from a few weeks ago?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I am feeling a lot better now.”

“And I am so glad to hear it,” she smiled and you could tell the genuine worry from where the crease never quite left her forehead, “I talked with your father and we – we think it might be best if you come visit us for a while. Come back home, check

“Just because you don’t think I can't make it as an agent –“

“Hey,” your dad interrupted you gently, “No one is prouder of you than we are, sweetheart, and we know you make for one hell of an agent. But the fact remains that you were miserable for the last couple of months and it might not be a bad idea to try and get to the root of things.”

And by the root of things they meant that you re-discover your passion to become an English teacher at your local middle school.

“I am an adult woman,” you tried again, “I love you and I love that you worry about me. But we need to keep in mind that I made a big move for a job that I was not wholly prepared for. The adjustment period was … longer than I wanted, for sure. But I finally feel like things are moving for the better and this makes me feel like you do not believe in me.”

“We do love you, honey,” your mum assured you, “And I apologize for making you feel like we don’t trust your decisions. I know you are incredibly proud of the work you do and you should be! But I am worried and I would feel better if you took some time off and came to visit us. Allow yourself the grace to breathe, you have been working non-stop since you moved away. There is no way that is healthy.”

You ran your hand over your face, trying to get yourself some time to think over your answer. The horrible thing was you knew your mother was right. Even if you did not want to admit it, you knew that you had been overworking yourself, that ever since Dr Johnson had voiced her doubts, your brain had been on edge and that a break might not be the worst idea.

Especially considering you had not taken any time off since you started your position.

“I hear you,” you started, feeling your eyes sting with tears. But you refused to cry in front of your parents lest they thought they were right and insisted that you come home as soon as possible. The last thing you wanted was to worry them.

“Can you just give me some time to think it over?” you asked, “Taking time off is not as easy as it sounds and I want to make sure that I don’t miss anything important at work.”

“Of course, darling,” your mother agreed, “Let us know anytime.”

But you knew that her anytime meant that your time was running out.

[merbear25]

Could you do a sfw and nsfw Drabble for Usopp with an s/o who’s a huge affectionate cuddler and loves being as close as he’ll allow, but they’re rather endowed in the chest so it takes him some time to be normal about them?

Hello, hello! Thank you for sending in this request! As usual, I got a bit more inspired with the nsfw part, but I hope you like what I’ve written for you. 💜💜

With a busty reader (Usopp)

He wasn’t one to turn down a hug, especially when it was offered in such a heart-felt manner from his beloved. As much as he adored your seemingly endless affection, at the beginning of your relationship he couldn’t help but feel flustered when you’d press your chest against him.

The shade of red that would spread across his face slowly lessened the more comfortable you got around each other. That being said, cuddling in more intimate settings still proved to be a bit difficult to maintain his composure.

Curling up in bed for a short nap was one of the biggest hurdles for him to overcome and grow accustomed to. However, once he became more used to the physical closeness, you two were able to enjoy being wrapped in each other’s arms.

With your breath lightly brushing against his skin, the moment of intimacy felt surreal: a loving partner, feeling light as a feather when with you, and the joy that nipped at him when you were around. As you pressed closer against him, yearning for more. He could gather what specifically you were after.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.

The peaceful expression you wore had his stomach twisting in knots—torn between wanting to keep this moment wholesome and succumbing to temptation.

NSFW below the cut!!! fem!reader, titjob, oral (male receiving), facial

Looking down at you, your soft cheeks, sweet lips, and the undeniably erotic display of your cleavage were all putting his self-restraint to the test—one he was destined to fail.

His lack of confidence was holding him back from pulling you into the passionate kiss he so desperately yearned to capture you with. The uncertainty trailed through his hands, making them shake slightly.

“You can touch them if you want.”

Nodding timidly at your permission, he slowly placed a hand on your breast. Leaving it there briefly, he began squeezing and massaging it, eventually circling his thumb around your nipple. With the sensual caress he was gracing you, the soft gasps and muffled mewls soon trailed past your lips.

“That feels good…” The airy tone of encouragement was alluring in ways he couldn’t describe.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, lining your jaw and neck with tender pecks.

“I want to make you feel good too.”

Before he had much time to process what you’d said, you were already gently pushing him onto his back, positioning yourself against his pent-up lust aching to be touched.

As you helped spring his cock loose, you gave the tip a slight lick which coaxed a whimpering gasp out of him. It was obvious that he had been wanting this for a long time, and seeing as how bashful he was at the beginning of your relationship, the desperation in his body language made it that much more endearing.

The softness of your breasts cradling him was enough to cause his head to spin, but when paired with your sultry gaze, it was clear how much you’d been wanting this too.

His hips thrusted slightly in rhythm with your skilled touch, leaving you wanting to give him more. You swirled your tongue on his tip and sucked on it, while continuing to bounce your breasts against his dick.

With him trembling from the staggering jolts of euphoria, he cried out right before shooting streams of hot cum onto your pretty face.

He huffed and panted, while struggling to catch his breath. When his glazed eyes met yours - which had been defiled by him - the redness in his face returned as he stuttered an apology.

“It’s okay, Usopp,” you spoke softly. “I loved making you feel good.”

Easing yourself off of him, you could see the embarrassment drain from his complexion. The relief he felt washing over him entwined with his newfound confidence, from which both of you hoped to continue using to explore this aspect of your relationship.

[maccreadysbaby]

Writing 101: Characters with Medical Issues

Part One - Mobility Aids and/or Prosthetics

Aka, me doing research for you!

TW: talks about what leads to a prosthetic… obviously

Ah, yes, I get it. Having more diverse characters, more things that can go wrong, more hurdles — it’s all a nice addition to a story. But slow down! Don’t just shove an issue at a character because you like the idea! You need to research and decide if you actually want them to have that or if you just got a little excited. I’m here to provide you a bit of base research on a commonly used issue. Today: Prosthetics and Mobility Aids.

First of all, mobility aids are exactly what they sound like — things that aid someones mobility. These include wheelchairs, crutches, braces, walkers, canes, forearm crutches, etc.

Prosthetics are artificial devices designed to replace a missing body part. Most commonly, legs and arms.

How Someone Gets Prosthetics or Mobility Aids

The most common way for someone to get a Prosthetic is, obviously, for them to lose or severely damage a limb in an accident. For example, a soldier stepping on a mine, a car crash that completely crushed an arm, heavy machinery full-on chopping off a hand. See: Proctor Ingram, Fallout Four (2015) You can also lose extremities from diseases like bone cancer, where surgeons must remove it to remove the cancer. See: Leo Roth, Red Band Society (2014)

It is more common for people to have mobility aids for temporary amounts of time, for example, a broken leg or twisted ankle resulting in having crutches. For long lasting or life long mobility aids, you’ll need to look into physical disabilities, different types of muscle trauma and nerve damage, or an injury that wasn’t able to heal properly. See: Freddy Freeman, Shazam (2019)

Choosing When to Add Prosthetics or Mobility Aids

First things first — you should design your character with the mobility aid or prosthetic already in mind. They can affect the entire personality of a person, so I wouldn’t recommend creating a character and then deciding their mobility aid. For example, a child with forearm crutches due to a physical disability probably won’t like doing all the same things the other kids do on the playground, or the same sports their friends at school like. There’s also the unavoidable issue of them feeling out of place or “weird” no matter the age. So, obviously, there are some aids more suited for different genres of writing. For example, a long journey like Lord of the Rings would be tough for someone with a wheelchair or walker, but it’d be okay for a romance. That’s why it’s so important you don’t spring something like this on a character in a spur of the moment thing. Here are a few things I’d recommend deciding beforehand: 1 - What type of mobility aid or prosthetic is best for your type of story? You can choose any you like, but it’s good to consider if you want to write everything that comes with pushing a wheelchair to Isengard. 2 - Would your character have access to these aids or prosthetics, or would they have to settle with something else? If your story is post apocalyptic, they probably wouldn’t have access to the same things, or if your story is set in the past, you’d have to research aids and prosthetics from that time period. Even consider characters making their own — which is also a good way to mold it to your needs.

What Comes Along with Prosthetics and Mobility Aids

Okay, so you’ve decided you want your character to have a prosthetic or mobility aid. You’ve weaved it into their personality and your story. Now comes making it realistic… what do people with these things experience? Think about? People with prosthetics have challenges and additional baggage that comes along with having a prosthetic. First of all, if your character just got this prosthetic, it’s gonna be hard to walk on and even harder to wrap their head around. Sometimes, prosthetics hurt. There’s several different kinds and different activities each one can do. They change size as the person changes size. There are many different ways they attach to the body that suit different needs. Mobility aids have their own set of challenges as well. For example, fitting a wheelchair, walker, or crutches through a tight space. Fitting braces under or over clothes. Stairs. You have to think about enclosed spaces like cars, public transport, planes, elevators, bathrooms. These challenges will change with your story. For example, on a long outdoor journey, how will each different aid or prosthetic react to the temperature, humidity? How will the one in the wheelchair or with crutches get up that mountain? While the aids and prosthetics come with their own challenges, new ones are gained based on the genre of your WIP. This includes what your character thinks about. In a post-apocalyptic work, they might not worry about being different or out of place, but they might spend every day hoping and praying their homemade leg brace doesn’t break.

Reminder!

⚠️ DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH IF YOU INTEND TO ADD A CHARACTER WITH THIS INTO A WORK OF YOURS. STUDY HOW THESE THINGS EFFECT THE COMMON LIFE OF A PERSON. IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO HAS ONE OF THESE THINGS, ASK THEM. MURDER YOUR EYEBALLS BY RESEARCHING ON YOUR COMPUTER. WATCH A SHOW WITH A CHARACTER WHO HAS ONE. KNOW YOUR STUFF BEFORE YOU MAKE YOUR CHARACTER, I BEG.

[herotome]

Devlog #142

Hi-ho, Wudge here.

Time to talk about these past two weeks worth of work. Haha... ah....... The good news is that there's quite a lot. The bad news is now I have to type it all out. 😭 The things I do for love (for Herotome) amiright.

Note to self I'm gonna have to carefully save drafts of post throughout because, again, it's A Lot.

Ok so, we'll start off with some Mia stuff.

Outfit concepts!! Some of yall may recall I struggled hardcore with her hero outfit, but I think it's finally getting somewhere?? After uh... I allowed myself to use black. :') I had it in my head that Dart is the only one who can wear black-- but how unfair is that?! There's a limited number of color families in the world, characters should be able to borrow colors from each other in accent colors! So, I'm much happier now that I've gotten over that mental hurdle.

On the right is a 'party'/gala outfit. I have a few events in mind where the LIs can dress up and look nice, so this is a concept for that...!

I also made a bunch of these... cut-out images, so highlight her injured hand in-game... ....... Then I realized I could literally just. Show her full sprite and pan it down. Then add a lil spotlight/vignette effect if I damb well want to. :| So uh. I'll be throwing all these out I guess....... It was a learning experience!!!!!! just a bit of a painful one hahaha.

Moving right along, expressions.

I got through a huge set of Griffin and made some new mouth shapes for Mia! Much to my dismay, Mia's lips are rather more detailed and thus take a bit more time to render..... but I'm getting the hang of it.

I also have been coding in these new expressions for the Mia and Warden scene in the federal center lobby.

Here's a preview! Maybe I can make a gif of a few branches to crosspost to Ko-Fi...

As for Griffin - I haven't started coding in any expressions yet, but I did set up all his PNGs and can show off the full set here:

The pictured tool is by Feniks - wonderful, wonderful way of seeing all the expressions at once and quickly converting a specific mood from image into code (which you can see in the lower rightmost corner). I highly recommend it for any renpy devs who are have an overwhelming surplus of character expressions!

And I experimented with a ghostly text effect (using altered code from Wattson's dripping effect). It's hard to read at the moment and I dont love it - in Herotome it will likely have a proper outline and I might use a special font. It's inspired by this one artist named Endling - back in my teenybopper deviantart days, he had this comic with a big bad wolf character who would talk like this--!

And of course, updated art of these fools (as seen in my last not-devlog last week)

I also wrote.. a decent amount... did a fair amount of outlining/plotting.... and Remnantation and I made progress on a new Griffin CG... I designed some other potential NPCs.......

...... You can tell I'm running out of steam for this devlog, I'm sure. I think that'll do it for now.

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY TWO: EDGING FT. KUROO ☠︎︎

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: desperately horny kuroo, sub!kuroo, fem reader, teasing, reverse pleasure, y/n gives, kuroo recieves.

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

"y/nnnnn!" she groaned at the sound of her boyfriend repeatedly calling her name over and over again. this has been going on for the past seven minutes and each time, she'd adjust the volume of the tv to a higher setting.

slightly rolling her eye's when kurros voice followed after his own footsteps making its way down the staircase, he called her name once again. "y/nnn, i could've been dying and you're just ignoring me"

she only turned a deaf ear to kuroo's pleas, making him lazily slouch onto the empty space of the sofa. he gently grabbed her wrist and placed her relaxed digits over the growing erection hidden under the fabric of his shorts.

he placed his own palm over y/n's hand, applying some kind of pressure. "i'm hard and you've been ignoring me so, now that i've gotten your attention, the least you could do i make me feel good.. right?"

y/n's eye's slightly widened, hesitantly turning her attention towards kuroo. "and you ask for my help by sounding like a stuck record and calling my name every five seconds?" y/n's fingers slightly adjusted against his gradually hardening erection causing a sharp breath to pass through his teeth. "well, it got me what i wanted, didn't it?".

"trust me, you're not gonna want this"

"whatever you say, pretty" y/n hummed to kuroo's words, knowing that his cocky demeanor will soon melt into nothing with a couple of sensitive touches. she suddenly applied an immense amount of pressure onto his print, feeling the grip of kuroo's own palm slightly tighten around her hand.

using her unoccupied hand, she removed kuroo's grip from her occupied one, giving him nothing to actually grasp onto other than the throw pillow that rested next to him. y/n made swift movement's, sitting up and hurdling a leg over his thighs, now straddling his figure.

she heard the staggered sigh leave her boyfriend's lips, signifying his usual impatience. examining his sudden, lust filled expression, y/n decided to shift her position, to rest her clothed core against the length of kuroo's erection. he let out a small whine at the pressure that was suddenly applied, and it only became drawn out when y/n swayed her hips to meet his own.

"you've been louder than this before, you trying to keep your pride?" with her word's, kuroo uncontrollably tightened the muscle in his abdomen, the line between accepting his guilty pleasure and keeping his cocky facade suddenly becoming a blur.

y/n reached beside her, taking the tv's remote into her hold, aiming it at the sensor to adjust the volume to zero. "w-what was that for?" he asked through staggering breaths, his movement suddenly becoming uncontrollable. "i wanna hear you"

she slid her hand under the hem of kurro t-shirt, resting her palm against his waist, feeling satisfaction due to the way he shivered slightly from her touch. she carefully rubbed her thumb against his warm skin, leaning down to place small kisses to his neck.

kuroo only tilted his head a bit, giving y/n more access. with the hand that rested under his shirt, she parted from his skin and assisted kuroo with pulling the restricting fabric over his head. "fuck, this isn't fair, y/n"

"you're the one who wanted my help" y/n smiled before placing chaste pecks onto kuroo's chest, she practically felt his heartbeat quicken against her lips. he whined at her expected response because, afterall, he knew y/n well enough to know that she would never have an intimate moment if it didn't include teasing the living soul out of him.

but today, y/n did feel generous enough to give kuroo at least a small bit of satisfaction. hooking two digits into the hem of his sweat-shorts, she teasingly pulled it down, just enough to expose his v-line. placing small taps to the muscles indention, she let out a hum when she saw his veins become more prominent in his arm when his grip tightened onto the throw pillow.

"you're loving this, aren't you, tetsu?"

"quite the fucking opposite, your teasing feels unbearable when it's anywhere but-" kuroo's words stopped when he felt y/n firmly palm his restrained erection. "here?" she finished his sentence. kuroo couldn't manage to fathom a reply since his voice was occupied with a low moan.

y/n finally pulled down kuroo's shorts, leaving the loose hem to rest on his mid-thighs. when y/n finally looked up at him, she placed a small kiss onto his lips before mumbling a quick apology. "for what?"

"you'll find out soon enough"

y/n focused her gaze to kuroo's now complete erection. she finally realized why he was being so needy and impatient. he was desperately in need of a release and it was evident by the way he stiffened into her fist when she wrapped her hand around his member. he let out a breathy swear, lazily leaning his head back and onto the sofa's perimeter. "more"

y/n made fast and smooth movements with her wrist, jerking kuroo into her tightly wrapped fist. his hips uncontrollably contorted and bucked upwards, making y/n place a firm palm to his pelvis, lessening the intensity of his movements. "y/n-fuck"

small incoherent babbles fell from kuroo's lips, the last set of curses coming out as a silent plea when his erection jerked in y/n's hold. y/n immediately released her grip around kuroo, he let out a whine of frustration at the lost pleasure. his breathing was unsteady and tears were resting on the hem of his bottom lashline when his eyes shut tightly.

the liquid escaped from their place, slowly drifting down his facial structure. y/n leaned forward before placed her lips next to his ear. "i told you, you wouldn't have wanted this" she mumbled. a sharp breath once again passed though his teeth.

"y/n..just- please let me cum"

to be quite honest, y/n did feel a bit bad due to the fact that he'd been actually quite patient despite his words. kuroo didn't touch himself, he let y/n hear all of his pleasure filled noises, and he tried his hardest to keep himself together.

rewrapping her hand around kuroo's painful erection, she used her thumb, swiping it across his tip to spread his precum around the entirety of his member, hips bucking against her palm. "y/n...i'm s-sensitive" he said through hitched breaths. letting out a hum and nodding at kuroos warning, y/n continued her previous movements, wrist moving gracefully to please him.

this time, the pressure of her palm against his pelvis was a bit lighter, causing his hips to visibly buck into y/n's fist. kuroo was practically positive that y/n would only continue the cycle of working him up just to forbid him from releasing but, a sigh of relief left his lips at y/n's next words.

"tetsu, you can cum now"

kuroo's hips repeatdly bucked with every stroke of y/n's hand, she had no choice but to reapply the heavier pressure on his pelvis to keep his bucking hips, slightly steady. letting out whining moans of y/n's name, he felt satisfied when he felt the warm liquid pump from his tip and onto his tensed abdomen.

his watery eye's looked up to y/n. she was focused on the liquid that slowly drooled down the back of her hand, still pumping his softening member til he'd let her know that he was satisfied enough. kuroo lifted a shaky hand to grasp y/n's wrist, stopping her movements so he wouldn't suffer from overstimulation.

"you're no fun" she said through a sigh when her hand was removed from his member.

"and you're too much fun"

[cherienymphe]

The Less I Know The Better XVIII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, attempted murder, violence, jealousy,  underage drinking, drug use, unhealthy relationship, one sided kiara x jj, non canon ages, pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics​

➥ series masterlist

summary:  When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.

~

“What the hell happened to your face?”

JJ paused, reaching up and touching his face, wincing at the sting. He’d almost forgotten about the feel of you digging your nails into him, fighting him off and desperate to get away. So desperate to get away from, and so desperate to run back to Rafe. The thought made him frown, and he roughly exhaled, recalling that John B had asked him a question upon meeting him downstairs.

“Ran into some Kooks with a grudge,” he lied.

Pope frowned at that, reaching out to touch JJ’s face when JJ slapped his hand away.

“…and they decided to scratch you up like a girl? Where are they?”

“They left already,” JJ waved them off, pushing past them. “Let’s just go.”

“We’ve only been here for like an hour,” Pope argued, but following, nonetheless. “You’re the one who wanted to come so bad, anyway.”

JJ clenched his jaw at that, struggling to swallow.

Today hadn’t gone like he’d thought it would, at all. He had just wanted to talk, that was all he’d wanted, and even when it seemed clear you wanted nothing to do with him, right now, he’d been prepared to accept that. Prepared to bide his time, but just as John B. had noted, JJ didn’t think straight when it came to you. He had given you his phone to use, not even giving it a second thought, and everything had come crashing down.

He'd done a shitty thing, an unforgivable thing, and he’d accepted that. He’d made his peace with what he’d done to you, but staring you in the face and watching your expression crumble had affected him more than he’d thought it would. It was like watching a nervous breakdown, and all he’d wanted to do was hold you, but it was his fault. How could he make you feel better when it was his fault?

He couldn’t lie, and he’d been forced to admit his moment of weakness, unable to resist you throwing yourself at him after months of just wanting to be with you so badly. JJ had deserved every slap and every punch, but he’d been shocked at how…angry he’d gotten. Every time you hit him and screamed at him, he’d gotten angrier, and he’d hurdled over the edge when you locked yourself in the bathroom.

Were you so disgusted with the idea of being with him? Sure, you had every right to be mad, but you’d acted like sleeping with him was the worst thing in the world. You were always so quick, so eager to throw yourself at Rafe like some Figure 8 slut, but you recoiled from JJ like he was covered in boils or something. You’d known each other your entire lives, had grown up together and seen parts of each other that no one else had.

Now, it was like none of that counted for anything.

He looked out of the window, sitting with Pope and John B. in Heyward’s truck, a slight frown on his face.

He hadn’t planned to…hurt you again. That wasn’t the plan, and his jaw ticked at how things had gone so far south. He’d just wanted to talk to you, but then you got angry and he got angry, and once he got his hands on you, it was like he was moving on autopilot. Deep down, you had to have known it was him. You’d been so eager so good for him, and he’d only wanted to show you how good it could be with him too…not just Rafe.

You’d accepted it at first, lying there and staring past him with your fingers digging into his skin. You were so tight, practically choking him, and JJ shuddered at the memory of you squeezing his cock. But then it was like a flip switched, and you were crying and pushing against him and trying to get away. He hadn’t expected you to fight back so much, and he resisted the urge to shift in his seat, swearing he could still feel the pain of your knee driving up between his legs.

He'd tried to run after you, but it had been too much.

…and now JJ had a problem on his hands.

There was no doubt you’d be running straight to Rafe. JJ didn’t doubt that for a second, and he didn’t want to think about what Rafe would do. While JJ knew that he deserved whatever he had coming to him, he also wouldn’t accept those consequences being dished out by Rafe of all people. What high horse did Rafe have to stand on? The other blond just looked like he passed Roofie around like candy.

He knew it was only a matter of time, but when days went by with no sign of Rafe, JJ’s suspicions grew. Was it possible that Rafe was just biding his time, waiting for the right moment? It seemed likely, but then weeks had gone by before he knew it, and JJ started to wonder to himself if you’d told him, at all. Was it possible that you hadn’t? And if so…

Why not?

JJ didn’t want to read into that too deeply, but maybe there was some part of you that still cared about JJ. He wondered if there was something in you that still cherish your friendship, and because of that, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Rafe? That thought warmed JJ’s chest, but he also entertained the possibility that Rafe was just biding his time.

“Still nothing?”

Kie’s voice brought JJ out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Sarah shaking her head at the brunette.

It had been weeks since any of them had heard from you, and he didn’t need to be a genius to feel their annoyance at him. They blamed him for your scare presence, and rightfully so, he guessed. It was looking more and more like you wanted nothing to do with any of them, and seeing their somber faces was almost enough to make JJ feel bad. If they only knew the half of it…

“She’s obviously hiding out at your house,” Pope said. “How is it possible that you don’t even run into her?”

“She hasn’t left Rafe’s room in weeks.”

They all, sans JJ, perked up at that, wearing deep frowns.

“Are you sure?”

Sarah nodded, and Pope looked thoughtful.

“Okay,” he dragged the word out. “That’s not normal.”

“JJ fucked up, but this seems like it’s about more than that,” John B. commented, and JJ looked away, sipping on his beer.

“That’s all that happened?” Kie wondered, talking to him, now. “You kissed her and…you and Rafe fought?”

“Yes, I already told you.”

His tone wasn’t the nicest, and Kie picked up on it.

“Excuse me for just wanting to make sure we have all the details on how you ruined our friendship with Y/N,” she snapped.

Their eyes met at that, and JJ rolled his, pushing himself to his feet.

“Besides, some of us have to be concerned…”

JJ slowed to a stop at that, turning to face her as she frowned at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we’re in this situation because of you, and you don’t seem all that worried,” she threw out, shrugging at him. “For someone that messed this up all by himself, you don’t seem to care nearly as much as you should.”

“Maybe because I know I screwed up. I know exactly what I did wrong and moping about it and trying to force her to talk to me isn’t going to fix it.”

Kie didn’t have a response to that, simply eyeing him. The atmosphere was tense, and when it became clear that no one else was going to say anything, JJ walked outside. Their anger and irritation was valid, but it didn’t suck any less.

Hearing that you hadn’t left Rafe’s room in weeks had him swallowing. He’d done that, and JJ blinked back tears, so angry at everyone and the world and himself. He hated where you two were at, because even when he was angrily listening to you gush about Rafe, he could at least talk to you. Even when he watched you two, he could at least see you, but this… He hated this more than anything, and he only had himself to blame.

JJ wondered if Rafe was comforting you, and he wished it was him instead.

Rafe didn’t deserve you, that much everyone could agree on. Everyone except you, and knowing that you were in a place where you saw JJ as the bad guy while Rafe was the one to lick your wounds had him seething. JJ knew he fucked up, he knew that, but deep down…

You had to have known it was him.

You had.

You’d been too loud, too wanton, too into it. JJ could still remember you begging in his ear. Your legs wrapping around his waist. Your hips moving over his as you fucked yourself onto his cock. You’d been desperate to have him inside of you, a woman possessed as you wildly chased your orgasm. It was like you couldn’t get enough of him, and JJ had to believe that you knew deep down, because otherwise that meant you’d been that unrestrained for Rafe.

And he could barely stomach the thought.

JJ closed his eyes, fingers tangling in hair as he allowed himself to get lost in the feel of your mouth wrapped around him. The party on the beach sounded so far away, the only light this far coming from the moon and what stars were visible. Your tongue laved against his cock, sliding over him and making him shudder.

A shaky breath left him, hands tightening, and he wanted to drive himself towards the back of your throat.

The spell, however, was broken.

“Ow, JJ, what the hell?”

He could feel himself softening some at the sound of a voice that did not belong to you. He angrily exhaled, weakly opening his eyes and looking down as he loosened his grip some. It was some girl he’d hooked up with before, last year or maybe even half a year ago, he couldn’t remember. Your absence was weighing on him more than he wanted to admit, and something in her smile had been familiar.

It had taken nothing at all to pull her into a kiss, forcing himself to pretend it was you as she hummed into his mouth. Her lips had traveled to his ear, voice light and teasing as she suggested they go back to her place, but his frustration had guided him to grab her arm and pull her further down the beach. He’d kissed her for all of ten seconds before his hand met the top of her head, forcing her to her knees.

He didn’t want to see her face, and he didn’t even want to hear her talk. He needed to pretend like it was you, because at this point, he was going crazy, and his impulsiveness had almost driven him to head straight for the Cameron’s and force his way in. God, wouldn’t that be a sight?

After a quick apology, she was working her mouth over him again, and JJ thought about what it would be like to fuck you in front of Rafe. He would pay to see the look on the other blonde’s face, forced to watch as JJ tasted you and held you down and made you come around him again and again. The scenario was the only thing keeping him satisfied, her mouth not doing much to keep him hard, and he imagined you moaning his name, uncaring of your boyfriend’s gaze, only concerned with milking JJ dry.

That was the thought that sent him over the edge, and a low moan escaped his lips as he spilled down her throat. He couldn’t stop his hand from tightening in her hair, lips moving, and when she batted his hand away and hurried to stand, JJ worried that he might’ve unintentionally hurt her again.

…but then she’d slapped him, ruining his post climax haze.

“Y/N?”

JJ licked his lips, confused as he stared at her angry face.

“What?” he breathed, still struggling to calm his heart.

“You called me Y/N,” she told him, an attitude in her tone, and JJ sighed.

“I’m sorry, I-.”

“If you want to fuck Rafe’s girl, that’s your business, but next time, have the decency to leave me out of it when you want to get off on it,” she sneered, harshly bumping into him as she made her way back down the beach.

He couldn’t even focus on her deserved anger, her words making him roll his eyes.

Everyone on this side of the island knew that you and JJ were best friends since birth. You two were practically joined at the hip, so how in the world did your name manage to get associated with Rafe’s now in less than a tenth of that time? It was such a small thing, but it managed to make him so mad.

“We need to talk.”

That was how Kie greeted him when he made it back to everybody else after fixing himself and getting his mind together. JJ eyed her, grabbing a beer and gesturing for her to talk.

“Not here,” she said.

Something about her voice and the look in her eye had JJ frowning, and he started to seriously debate if he even wanted to talk to her. However, Kie being Kie, he knew that she was going to get her way one way or another, and he chose to just get it over with.

She spoke again as soon as they made it near some tree.

“Rafe came by The Wreck yesterday.”

Those words had JJ’s heart sinking, but he kept his expression even, cooly watching her and waiting for her to continue.

“He was angry and wanting to know ‘what the hell did you and Y/N talk about’?”

She used air quotes, and again, JJ kept his face even. Kie was frowning at him, now, and the more she stared at his face, it seemed, the angrier she got.

“See, Rafe was under some impression that weeks ago, Y/N left his house to meet with me. Left him a note and everything…”

“…okay.”

“…and the same night, something happened, and she hasn’t been the same since.”

JJ merely took a sip of his beer, shrugging at Kie.

“Did he say what?”

“No, he wouldn’t tell me, but I’m sure you can see how he partially blames me for whatever happened to her, right? Only…I never texted Y/N about meeting up to talk.”

Both Kie’s gaze and tone were accusatory, but JJ was just relieved Rafe hadn’t told Kie what happened to you. Beyond that, he was also relieved to know that you hadn’t told Rafe it was him who did it. Again, he wondered if there was some part of you that was still hanging onto the piece that cared about JJ. Kie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“…but…I do know someone who might use me to see her, considering Y/N wants nothing to do with that person, now,” she evenly told him, holding his gaze. “…because if she knew it was that person who really wanted to see her, she wouldn’t go.”

JJ slowly blinked at her.

“…and I know that person just happens to know my password into my phone.”

“If you have something you want to say then just say it,” JJ spat.

“Did you trick her into seeing you?”

“So what if I had? Aren’t you the same one who was riding my ass about making things right?”

Kie pressed her lips together at that, tightening her arms over her chest.

“Well, Rafe is saying something happened to her after she talked to you. If he knew that it was really you who lured her out that night, he wouldn’t hesitate to find you. He already hates you, and you’re just giving him more reasons,” she sighed, running her hand through her hair. “…and why did you pretend you haven’t talked to her?”

“Because she’s made it clear she’s done with me, okay?”

Kie’s face fell at that, gaze sympathetic at the emotion in his voice.

“You messed up, JJ,” she softly told him. “When I thought this was just you being jealous and petty and childish, I was so mad, you know? You were acting like a kid who was losing his favorite toy, and it was ugly to witness.”

JJ’s gaze found the ground.

“…but then you said you were in love with her, and…I don’t know. As much as it sucked to hear, I just felt sorry for you. I feel really sorry for you, but you messed up, and you have to know that you might not be able to come back from this.”

JJ closed his eyes, thinking to himself if Kie only knew.

“I’m glad you tried to fix things, but…you can’t force her to forgive you.”

He swallowed, and he took another sip of beer, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“…and you didn’t see her with anyone else after you talked to her?”

“No,” he said, thinking that it wasn’t exactly a lie.

JJ could think of nothing but that night and how wrong it had all gone. He knew that once Rafe knew, it was over. From the moment you’d started dating the Kook, he’d had this feeling of dread that something would have to give. You were sweet, too sweet, and had foolishly thought there was room for both Rafe and JJ in your life, but both blondes knew otherwise. It was only a matter of time, really, and from the moment Rafe had seen him kissing you, JJ knew that he wanted him permanently out of your life as much as JJ wanted Rafe gone.

When Rafe found out what JJ did, the other guy was going to want to kill him, and JJ accepted that he felt the same. Rafe was your first, something that would always twist JJ up, but JJ fully intended to be your last by whatever means necessary.

They were at The Chateau when everything blew up.

They were sitting around the fire, drinking beers and hanging out, but it still felt so odd without you. JJ had become so accustomed to the feel of your arm brushing against his, your laugh in his ear at something he’d said. All of that was ruined now, and he still struggled with whether to put the blame on Rafe…or himself.

Everything had seemed, calm, too calm, and that was when Pope had brought up the party.

“Honestly, it was pretty lame,” he admitted. “…but then again, we only stayed about an hour because JJ got into it with some Kooks.”

Sarah had scrunched her face up at that, but JJ’s gaze slowly landed on Kie, a slight frown on her face.

“What? How come we’re just hearing about this?” she wondered, concern in her voice.

“I honestly forgot,” John B. commented. “It’s not like we saw it. When we ran into JJ, his face was all scratched up, and he was pretty over it.”

JJ watched Kie’s frown deepen, a thoughtful look on her face, and he felt his heart speed up in his chest. Kie had never mentioned to anyone else that you and JJ had met up at the party, trying to talk things out, and for that, he’d been grateful. Because JJ was sure that the same expression washing over Kie’s features would’ve taken over theirs too.

Her dark eyes met his, a troubled look in them, and he saw disbelief flit over her face just as the sound of speeding tires could be heard.

It drew all of their attention, and they all stood, warily watching a familiar black truck speed into John B.’s yard. JJ felt his jaw clench, and despite the fact that his life as he knew it was about to change, despite the fact that his friends were probably about to look at him like they didn’t even know him, JJ felt oddly…ready. He wasn’t sure why, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that no matter what happened tonight, it was either going to be JJ or Rafe, and JJ wouldn’t rest until Rafe was out of your life for good.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sarah called as Rafe threw the truck in park, hopping out.

Rafe looked like the Rafe they all knew, and nothing like the calm and loving boyfriend that had taken possession of him whenever he was with you. He strode towards them, lip curled over his teeth, and JJ didn’t have the heart to tell Sarah that Rafe wasn’t there for her.

“How’s it going?” he barely acknowledged them, his blue gaze immediately landing back on JJ. “JJ.”

He knew the greeting wasn’t genuine, any doubts long gone when Rafe reached behind his waist and pulled out a gun.

Sarah’s reaction was instant, a scream leaving her just as Kie screamed too. John B., the closest, was the first to go at Rafe, the brunette too close for Rafe to aim at him instead. When he pushed Rafe, the gun became unsteady, and JJ ducked just as the bullet hit John B.’s house instead.

Pope was helping John B. now, but Rafe only had eyes for JJ.

“Rafe, what the hell? Are you crazy?”

Between the two of them, they got the gun, but that didn’t stop Rafe from trying to get his hands on JJ.

“Me? You need to be looking at that snake you call a friend,” he spat, his finger aimed right at JJ.

“What is he talking about? What is happening, right now?” Pope wondered, voice panicked and shaking as he held the gun, now.

“Ask him.”

They all looked at JJ at Rafe’s words, and JJ scoffed.

“You sound crazy-.”

“I’m not leaving here until I know you’re fucking dead,” he hissed, attempting to get at him again, but stopped by Pope and John B. pushing against him. “…but I won’t be satisfied until they see you for exactly what you are. You’re going to tell them!”

“JJ, what is he talking about?” Sarah questioned, looking between them.

John B. and Pope were alternating between looking at him and keeping their eyes and hands on Rafe. Kie, though, Kie was the only one who seemed to have an idea of what Rafe was talking about. She looked at JJ as he glanced at her, and she slowly shook her head.

“What else did you and Y/N talk about at the party?”

At her words, Pope and John B. faltered, blinking and looking at JJ.

“What?” Sarah spoke for them.

“JJ wanted to go to the party so bad because he tricked Y/N into meeting him. She thought she was meeting me,” Kie whispered, tears in her eyes. “John B. said you had scratches all over your face.”

“Yeah,” Rafe breathed, voice cold and eyes blank. “Yeah, Y/N might’ve done that when you raped her…again.”

Time seemed to stand still once Rafe’s words reached the air, and JJ heard Sarah gasp, a soft ‘no’ escaping her. John B. and Pope’s eyes were wide, and in their shock, they had completely let Rafe go, and determined to kill JJ one way or another, the other blond tackled him to the ground. JJ was prepared for it, and his friends became background noise as he brought his fist straight across Rafe’s jaw.

[clairecrive]

Hi

I wanted to request a bane x reader fanfic where bane don't wear a mask and he come come across a girl avery young one at that and they have such strong chemistry and then they fall for each other of course bane is reductant at first but then he abandoned his job as a mercenary to be with her and spend time with her.they go shopping they go to beach they like to devour each other they simply can't get enough. Thanks alot

"Guy for That"| Bane x reader

A/N: hello, hello! I know it's been a while, but I hope this will count as tagging, and you'll find yourself back to this. This kind of picks up in the middle of things but the context is what you asked for <3 It is also inspired by "Guy for That" by Post Malone. Hence the name lol. Enjoy ✨

(okay but how cute is he in this gif omg??)

I'm pretty good at breakin' down a heart But pickin' up the pieces is the hard part She's searchin' for someone who's gonna build it back But I ain't got a guy for that

Before meeting Bane, y/n had never believed in that portrayal of love where the two were inseparable and never had enough of the other. She had always loved her me time and, so far, had never been with someone that made her want to spend all of her time with them.

However, when a certain beefy bald man came into her life, she finally understood.

It almost embarrassed her to admit but she always wanted more. More time together, more of his attention, more of his care, more of their conversations, more of their quiet moments, more of his hands on her, more of them laying in bed talking about everything and nothing.

Just more of him.

The only thing that appeased her embarrassment was that Bane seemed on the same wavelength. He always came back for more. She needn't ask for it.

It had been the most magical months of her life.

It hadn't been with its challenges, though. Living with a mercenary wasn't exactly a piece of cake. But they had handled everything together.

So when Bane came home one night and asked her to sit because they needed to "talk", she knew it was just another hurdle they had to cross.

Never would she have imagined, though, that his reason was... ridiculous. Simply put, it was absolute nonsense and y/n wouldn't stand for it.

"Unbelievable," y/n scoffed.

"What?" Bane's temper was rising as well. Gesturing vaguely to himself, "Did you think I'd be your prince charming?"

"You know I don't give a flying fuck about princes and princesses, Bane!" She said, her voice raising at the absurd implication.

"You're a fucking mercenary, for fuck's sake. Do you take me for a fool?"

"If you think of me as someone who could put your heart back together, then yes. You might as well be one."

Despite being filtered by his mask, Bane's voice had the uncanny ability to portray every shade of emotion. So, y/n knew when it was flat and monotone, like in this instance, it was on purpose.

"You know what, Bane?" she chose to be the bigger person and ignore his insult. "I'm not having this conversation with you. Either you have a valid reason for wanting to break up or I refuse, okay? You cannot break up with me."

"Being concerned for your safety and questioning the future of this relationship is a valid reason to have this conversation." He quipped.

"Using your line of work is a useless argument because I already know, don't I? Knew it from the beginning actually."

"Should I question your sanity as well then?"

"Why is it a problem all of the sudden when this," she said pointing to them, "has been going on for a while?"

The question was rather rethoric but when she saw that Bane was about to reply, she knew he wouldn't let this go soon. So, raising a hand, she stopped him, "I don't think it's about you being a mercenary at all."

"I think things are getting real, and you're getting scared," she said softly despite the frustration she was feeling. It was a sore spot for both of them, letting go and trusting the other. But y/n knew that for Bane it was even harder given his past.

She knew that was exactly the point, and Bane's silence confirmed it. Sighing, she took his hands in hers. Hands that had inflicted an immense amount of pain but that could also been so gentle and caring when it came to her. Those hands that she loved feeling caressing her skin, whether it was during aftercare or in those lovely, quiet moments they shared.

"Look, babe, I know it's scary, okay? Fuck, I'd even say terrifying. But I want you to know I'm not going down without a fight."

Bane's piercing eyes were unblinking on hers. It felt like he was staring into her soul. And y/n was hellbent on proving that her word was true. Bane had been such a solid presence in her life these past few months. Now, she was ready to return the favour. He could lean on her for stability. No matter his impressive size, she wouldn't crumble.

"Let's just go to bed, okay? We can sleep on it and talk about it tomorrow."

"I've got some work to do."

"Okay then, I'll be here when you get back." Y/n stood up and left the room after leaving a kiss on his temple.

Whether it was true or not, y/n would leave him alone for tonight. She had said her piece, and if he needed time to process it, then so be it.

She would be here when he returned, and she was not going down without a fight.