#Treat Open Pores

[skintreatmentinindia]

Everything You Need To Know About Open Pores On the Face

If you have oily skin, you may notice you have open pores. Open pores mainly occur on the face when excessive oil, dead skin cells and dirt get trapped in the skin and cause the pores to grow in size. Unfortunately, open pores are common, making the skin look dull and unhealthy. It could also make individuals look older than their actual age, and in a few cases, it might even trigger acne. Fortunately, several advanced dermatological procedures are available for individuals seeking open pores treatment in Hyderabad. This comprehensive guide aims to provide valuable insights into the causes, treatment, and prevention of open pores treatment.

Moreover, we will also detail the treatments that help treat open pores effectively. To make this guide interesting for readers, Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a notable skin doctor at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic, has shared her valuable information. Before we proceed, let’s understand what open pores are. 

What is Open Pores? 

Open pores refer to the enlarged skin pores that allow the skin to breathe by releasing natural oils known as sebum. They can affect the skin’s texture and can make the face appear dull and unhealthy. 

What Causes Open Pores on the Face?

Open pores can occur due to the following reasons: 

1. Genetics

The genes are the biggest determining factor in the pore size. Individuals with open pores often have their family members experiencing the same condition. 

2. Age

The skin loses its elasticity with age, making it sag and stretch. This makes open pores become enlarged. As the skin thickens with age, skin cells gather around the pores, making the pores look bigger. 

3. Sun Damage

Sun exposure can also make pores enlarge. Sun damage thickens the skin and leads to bigger pores. Prolonged sun exposure may also reduce collagen, elastin, and water from your skin, causing the tissue beneath it to shrink and pull at the outer edges of your pores, making them appear larger.

4. Clogged Pores

An excessive amount of oil and dead skin cells gather in the pores and cause them to appear enlarged. 

Are you experiencing open pores on your face and want to get rid of them? Seek the help of an expert skin specialist. You can consult Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a famous skin doctor in Hyderabad, at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic. Let’s find out the treatments for open pores.

How Can I Treat Open Pores? 

There are several dermatological treatments available that can help treat open pores. These include 

1. Topical Products

Topical products include retinoids like tretinoin, benzoyl peroxide, topical nicotinamide, and alpha-hydroxy acids.

2. Oral Medications

Oral medications include oral retinoids, antiandrogens, and birth control pills, which help keep the hormones in balance and reduce the appearance of open pores. 

3. Chemical Peels

Chemical peels such as lactic acid, salicylic acid, retinol, and trichloroacetic acid remove the top skin layers that are affected. This makes the skin look young and glowing while reducing and tightening the pores. 

4. Laser Toning

YAG and fractionated erbium YAG laser are used on the affected skin to minimise the size of open pores. They also help in reducing the production of sebum and boost collagen production. All of this helps in minimising the appearance of open pores. 

5. MNRF (Fractional Microneedling Radiofrequency

Micro injuries are created in the affected skin to release radiofrequency energy in the deeper skin layers. This helps stimulate collagen and elastin production, reducing open pores' visibility.

How Can I Prevent Open Pores? 

You can take some steps to prevent open pores from becoming noticeable. These include: 

Clean: Use a gentle and non-comedogenic cleanser twice a day to unclog the pores. 

Protect: Use sunscreen with SPF 30+ daily to prevent premature skin ageing due to sun damage. 

Nourish: Use water-based moisturisers that suit your skin type. 

Exfoliate: Exfoliate the skin regularly to keep the pores free of dirt, debris, and sebum.

Final Takeaway 

While no treatment permanently eliminates pores from the face, advanced dermatological procedures help reduce the appearance of scars, leaving individuals with smooth and radiant skin. 

If you are experiencing open pores and looking for an effective open pores treatment in Hyderabad, you can consult Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic. 

Based on the individual's skin type, the severity of the condition, and the underlying cause, the dermatologist will prepare a customised treatment plan for reducing open pores. 

To learn more, visit Best skin clinic in Hyderabad, Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic. 

Original Source:- https://blogreadnews.com/lifestyle/health/everything-you-need-to-know-about-open-pores-on-the-face/

[pucksandpower]

Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

***

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

[pseudowho]

Grandpapamin

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.

It was like love...squared.

He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.

While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.

In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.

You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.

You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.

"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.

"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.

You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.

When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.

A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.

Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."

He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.

Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.

Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.

Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.

It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.

Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.

Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.

While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.

Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.

Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.

Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.

Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.

Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.

Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.

His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.

One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.

After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.

Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.

Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.

The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.

Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.

Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.

The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.

"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.

"I thought we could all go. Together."

Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.

His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.

Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.

[hitomisuzuya]

it may just be me but i feel like scara would love a s/o who fully submits to him both in the bedroom and out of the bedroom ( ._.) ...

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. blowjob. facesitting. masturbation. praise. degradation. collar and leash for funsies.

i am super high and horny, so uh, yeah 😳 scara would absolutely love this. especially fatui scara. and i just really wanted to write oral.

you oozed submission for him from practically every pore. and what made it so intoxicating for scaramouche is that you chose to be so subservient of your own free will.

both in and the bedroom and out of the bedroom. you are subservient to him in public as well. and in a very intimate way, and physical way. if scaramouche beckoned you to his lap, you automatically went to him. straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek into it.

if he put his hand in your hair, tugging your head back slightly in demand of a kiss, you immediately obliged. shivering from the sensation of having your hair slightly tugged on as you tilted your head up to receive his kiss.

you choose to be this way. scaramouche's dominance was a comforting blanket for you bask in, you didn't have to think about anything.

nothing other than pleasing him.

you are right where scaramouche liked you best, where you thought was a deserving place for you. on your knees, your head resting in his lap. his hand stroked appreciatively through your hair, like he would a pet.

you sighed softly, looking up at him as you nuzzled your cheek lovingly against his thigh. your utter submission to him made his cock pulse and throb. "adorable," he said shakily as your cheek rubbed against his growing erection.

stroking a hand through your hair again, his cheeks flushed seeing you already moving your head towards his cock before he could start guiding it. you automatically knew what he wanted.

you unbuttoned his shorts, nuzzling your cheek against his cock. taking his cock out, you wrapped your hand around it, kitten licking stripes up and down. your fingers stroked so lovingly down the side of his cock you weren't licking or sucking on.

doing your upmost to make sure he felt good. seeing you rub your thighs together stretched his ego. you were getting wet just from tending to his cock with your tongue. it turned you on to submit to him. even better if you reached between your legs, stroking your pussy and edging yourself to show much you enjoying yourself. enjoying sucking him off, worshipping his cock with your mouth.

scaramouche lifted your head slightly, pushing his leaking cockhead against your lips. he delighted in smearing precum on your lips, your tongue prodding in the slit.

your mouth obediently opened for his cock, muffling a moan on it as he bullied it into your mouth. you immediately relaxed into his tightening grip on your hair. he guided your head, his hips jerking as he pumped his cock in and out of your mouth. "good girl," he groaned, "you know your place."

the wet sucking noises of your mouth mingled with scaramouche's moans. you were happy to surrender all control to him, letting him use your mouth as a flesh light to get off. you choked when he wanted you to, muffling moans as he pushed into your throat. your throat spasming around his cock until cum ribboned salty into your mouth.

"good girls deserve a treat, yes?" he cooed in an almost condescending way down at you. you swallowed with his cock still in your mouth, earning you an affectionate pet on your hair. your cheeks dusted with adoration at his tone, your clit swollen and throbbing between your legs.

scaramouche still showed his dominance over you, even while he was underneath you. a carefully chosen collar is fastened around your neck, the leash attached to it was wrapped around his hand. your pussy hovered above his mouth, your hands holding onto the headboard for leverage.

you moaned softly feeling him tug on the leash, his tongue teasing and lapping at your throbbing clit until soft whimpers tinged your moans. you needily rubbed and grinded your pussy on his tongue, your legs shaking as you eagerly sought the sweet friction his tongue provided.

"what a needy pet slut i have," he moaned into your cunt, latching his lips around your clit. your reward was getting to cream on his tongue for sucking him so obediently. your pussy clenched around nothing hearing his degradation.

"please, my master!" you cried out, one hand pinching and rolling one of your nipples between the pads of your fingers. you grinded on his mouth, your hand tightening on the headboard to hold yourself up. "put your tongue inside of me!"

the desperate whimper you let out only made scaramouche harder. smacking a hand on your ass, he swirled his tongue inside of you. "greedy whore," he moaned huskily, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sopping pussy.

he jacked himself off, getting off on your desperation to cum on his tongue as he worked your pussy over. a perfect and submissive fuck toy for him to enjoy.

his precious darling.

[cherriesformatt]

i've got you || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: reader is having a freeze up moment because of her anxiety and matt is there to help her

warnings: bit of angst but mostly fluff

word count: 741

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted me to write 🥹 I am sorry that sometimes you feel this way and I hope you're okay ♥️

based on this request

"why are you like this? why can't you be just happy for me?" I ask my mum on the phone.

Once again she was telling me how disappointed she was with me. She was telling me how I was supposed to be a doctor with bright future instead of being unworthy influencer. She called me because she saw my new pictures for skims. For more than 20 minutes now I was listening how she cannot even talk to her friends about me because of how ashamed she was of me.

I was only sorry for Matt, my boyfriend who needed to listen to this since I was over in his house.

"I would rather have no daughter than have one who shows her ass and boobs for money like a whore" she said and I felt like I was gonna collapse. I spent years to try to fix our relationship but she was getting only worst and treating me even pore poorly with every try.

Hearing her say that made my heart break into pieces.

I felt like my phone slips out of my hand but I did not even hear when it hit the floor.

matt pov's

I was sitting in my gaming chair trying to focus on the game that was going on my computer but all I could think about is y/n and her sad voice that I could hear from the bathroom. She was speaking to her mother who was the worst person I have ever meet and she should have never been a mother. In the same time I do not want to think that because if she wasn't I wouldn't have y/n who was my soulmate, my girl.

My heart ache for her and I knew how hard it is for her to not have any support from her own mother in what she was doing. She loved my parents so much because of how much love and support they have for me and my brothers but also for her.

I stood up quickly when I heard a loud bang from the bathroom.

I knocked on the doors few times but there was no response. I was worried so decided to just open the doors and walked in there.

There she was sitting at the closed toilet with her eyes focused on the wall, her phone on the floor. Her eyes looked empty and she seemed like she did not noticed my presence.

"y/n?" I asked her kneeling next to her.

She did not even blink. Thats how I knew what was happening. She freezes up again, and again it was her mother's fault causing her so much stress. I touched her shoulder, she was very tense and her breathing was heavy.

"Baby... listen to me" I say calmly.

I take her hand and put it on my chest where my heart is. For some reasons I discovered this helps her along with smell of my perfumes.

"y/n you're with me, you're safe, its me-matt and I've got you baby. Take deep breaths for me okay?" I gently help her down to the floor so I could hold her in my arms. I was breathing slowly to show her and when I felt her body starting to relax and she was breathing with me I closed my eyed in relief.

"Shhh...I've got you. I love you, you hear me? Whatever she told you it is not true. You are smart, you are so beautiful inside out and you're enough. Im so so proud of you. You hear me?" I gently caress her back.

"Yes.." She whispered with shaky voice her hands closing on my shirt.

"She is not worth this. Your pain. She Is not worth you as a daughter" I say.

"You are everything I could ever dream of and I will always be here and support you" I say and she moved away from me a little and she looked at me.

My heart broke when I saw pain in her eyes but then her eyes changed when she looked at mine and she sadly smiled.

"I love you Matt....thank you" She said and I put both of my hands on her cheeks.

"Never thank me for being there for you" I say and lean in to peck her lips.

"I've got you forever you are stuck with me" I smiled at her when she giggled at my words.

[honeytonedhottie]

micro glow up part one⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁

in this post we'll be talking about habits and little ways in which u can improve ur health and appearance without doing anything too drastic. a micro-glow up to stay polished…💬🎀

DRY SHAMPOO ;

dry shampoo helps with smell and reducing oil and all in all just a rly super useful tool that i hope we're all taking advantage of! so to use it simply divide ur hair into sections and shake the canister before application.

make sure that u hold it at least 10-12 inches away from ur roots. and then just brush it out and voila. just get the dry shampoo that matches ur hair color. so for me i have black hair so i'd purchase a dry shampoo that is designed specifically for dark hair.

WRAP UR HAIR AT NIGHT ;

create a protective barrier around ur hair at night to prevent frizz. with things like silk wraps and bonnets etc. treat ur hair LIKE A BABY. be super gentle to it so it can be soft and moisturized. if ur hair is more coarse or thick use the dominican tubi wrap.

CHOOSE THE RIGHT SHAMPOO ;

so theres a difference between ur everyday shampoo and a CLARIFYING shampoo. a clarifying shampoo is simply more of a deep clean so if ur using a clarifying shampoo EVERY single day you'll find that ur hair is lowkey straw-like and thats not the move.

clarifying shampoo is a super deep cleanse for ur scalp and u shouldn't be using it every single day…💬🎀

furthermore using a scalp scrub once a week or two weeks to stimulate ur scalp is rly rly wonderful. to just kind of do a deep clean of ur scalp and stimulate blood flow which can also help hair growth.

IF YOU HAVE ACNE ;

i used to have bad acne so i think im qualified to talk EXTENSIVELY on this subject but i won't make this section of the post too lengthy but i think these tips are valuable if ur struggling with acne…💬🎀

♡ invest in a pimple popping tool kit

u can literally get these off of amazon and u can learn to use them via youtube but as long as u store them properly and use them properly u can get rid of whiteheads and black heads safely and most effectively.

when doing an extraction wash ur hands and the area that ur about to extract from to make sure u have a super clean base. also make sure to soften the skin with a warm washcloth before starting. i've found that it minimizes pain.

hot tip : warm water opens pores and cold water tightens pores which is why when doing an extraction its important to use warm water and when ur done wash with cold water…💬🎀

♡ use blotting papers if u have oily skin

♡ invest in adorable and effective pimple patches

THE IMPORTANCE OF FACE MASKS ;

make sure to understand ur skin type/skin concerns before committing to a specific face masks. for example if u have more oily skin use a clay mask once or twice a week, if u have dryer skin go for a hydrating face mask. i rly rly LOVE sheet masks.

ALL ABOUT BROWS ;

wash ur brows with a gentle cleanser and make sure to keep them groomed cuz it makes ur eyes look bigger and gives u a more rejuvenated look. plus it makes u look very clean. dont forget to wash ur brows because washing them stimulates growth + prevents ingrown and painful pimples within or around ur brows.

ALL ABOUT EARS ;

DONT OVERLOOK UR EARS. make sure to clean in and around ur ears. like when ur showering just take ur finger with a little bit of gentle cleanser and just clean the shell of ur ear, the lobe, behind ur ears etc. do this on a daily basis. it literally takes 2 seconds.

and to clean ur ears DONT use a cotton swab. ik it feels rly good sometimes but what it does is just push the wax back into ur brain or whatever so instead take a cotton ball and soak it in some warm water, hydrogen peroxide and mineral oil and just tilt ur head to the side <- so that the opening of ur ear is facing up and hold for about a minute and then tilt ur head back and let the fluid drain out.

[calisources]

𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taken from different media to be compiled into a list. This is not a meme for minors, the content here goes from mild to highly sexual, topics like dominance, submissive, bondage,praise kink and breeding are all present so discretion is key. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

You are perfect. And now you wear my mark, your ass is mine.

Tie me up, please…

Kiss me hot,heavy,wet & angry with that attitude like you do when your mouth yells it hates me but your tongue screams it can’t wait for me.

Let me undress your body, caress your skin and wetly massage your mind back into making love to me again.

They wanted her. They all loved her. And they wanted to keep her.

A little vanilla never hurt anybody.

If you have any sense you’ll stay away from him.

Touch me, like this, like a good girl.

That’s it, use your tongue. 

I'd planned to have you on your bed the first time, but maybe I should take you here, by the mirror, so you can see how splendid we are together.

I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I cannot do anything else, But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes.

I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy.

I want a second serving of you. I’m hard just thinking of your perfect breasts and hard nipples.

As much as I appreciate that, right now you’re all I want to eat.

Now will you please sit on my face already?

You are corrupting me, Theo.

But you like being corrupted, don't you, sweet girl?

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

If women were totally satisfied with their sexual and lovemaking experiences, women would welcome the lovemaking experience as much as men.

I want to learn from you. Teach me what you know.

Once I make you mine, you will be mine forever. I will call you and you will come, in more ways than one.

What have I taught you? Show me, sweet girl.

Use your thighs, ride like it’s your last day on this earth.

I been aching to be inside you since we met, you devil woman.

Hands braced against the wall, and open your legs.

You tasted sweet, like oranges, liquid sunshine in my mouth.

I need you. Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.

The things I want from you, darlin’, will give you nightmares, ones like you’ve never had before.

If you could read my mind, I’m pretty sure you’d either be traumatized, sexually aroused or both.

The nicer you treat her outside the bedroom, the naughtier it will get inside the bedroom.

Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.

That’s it. You can take a lot more, don’t you? Hold on to me.

If you behave, I’ll let your hands go and touch me.

I love your skinny legs, and what's between them.

 I don't want words, but inarticulate cries.

All you have to do is beg, and I will give you what you want.

I want you splayed out on the table like my own personal feast.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

You make the sweetest little noises. But I need you to be louder, let everyone know.

It's like an itch, isn't it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.

Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine.

I felt like an animal, and animals don't know sin, do they?

And ye whimper under me, and struggle as though you wanted to get away, and I know it's only that you're struggling to come closer, and I'm fighting the same fight.

I can help you with that.

Forgetting him. Moving on. I’m okay with being your rebound. I’ve already said that I want you.

You’ll give yourself to me? Let me take control? Let me send you over the edge of ecstasy time and again until you awaken?

Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.

I feel claimed.

You’re so primed. I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around me every time I move a muscle or say a word.

Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers.

Pet, I give you permission to be as vocal as you wish, because I am going to blow your mind in a few minutes and I want to hear how much you enjoy the ride.

If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask. It would be my pleasure -  and yours.

Watch me make love to you.

I'd like to bite that lip.

I want you sore, baby.

I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you.

There is no room in my body for anything but you.

Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, just take me as I am.

I live for sex. I celebrate it, and relish the electricity of it, with every fibre of my being.

I’m not wearing anything underneath. Want to see?

You will be staying here until I’ve deemed it safe for you to go back to your life. Do you understand me?

Dominate you? Yes. Master you? yes. Make you yield to what you want, make you surrender to who you truly are? Yes.

Why don’t you scream my name? Let every other man and woman who you belong to.

I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

I taught you everything you know. Every man after me is just a shadow of what I did to you.

I knew you could be a good girl.

You were fucking made for me.

God is not gonna save you from me, baby.

My mouth wants you, I want to feel you in my mouth, way down in my mouth.

I am moist between the legs.

I came three times. During sex. 

Do you know all the ways a Lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you?

You stay right where daddy puts you, baby girl.

Wait until you taste her. She is fucking delicious.

Lick my fingers and feel how wet you are.

Are there big, bad monsters in the woods who want to eat me up?

Right there, don’t stop. I can feel it. 

Please come in me, I don’t care, I want to feel you.

Where do you want it, baby girl? Your cunt, your mouth or your neck?

Close your eyes and relax. One kiss. I don’t bite.

Seriously? In the morning, again? 

You said to rest but I can feel you hard against my back. 

You can do all the rest sweet, let me take care of you.

I want you to fuck me, Chris.

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it?

One should always explore something, before one goes in deeper.

Come here and undress me.

How am I supposed to do my job when all I can think about is getting back to you?

Someone could walk in on us. 

Better be good and come fast, then. Or everyone will see you begging for more.

I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

Am I doing it good, baby? Just like you taught me? 

Tell me I’m a good girl. Your only girl. 

When I come, I come for you. Because of you and your mouth, hands, and insatiable little cunt.

My tongue, my fingers, my cum inside you. Just you and me, Eva. Intimate and raw.

How many have been with you ever since? Or no one compared? Tell me.

Show me then. I demand that you show me. That’s an order.

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & THEM HAVING A CRUSH ON YOU .

characters. xiao zhongli kaeya diluc childe alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff kind of! also kind of suggestive, based on how you look at it an. i am losing my mind. is it obvious (part 4379543!) | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

goes out of his way to avoid you. just the quickest glance can bring a full flush to his face, a telltale sign of his infatuation with you. he begs rex lapis to make you think he doesn't hate you, no matter how many times he disappears as quick as he arrives when talking to you.

zhongli

squeezes out every last bit of mora to buy you treats, and sometimes borrows childe's money for it. the cutest keychain, or the most delicious looking sweets – whatever he thinks you'd like, he'd buy for you. sometimes his payments come in the form of IOUs.

kaeya

writes letters to you, but never sends them. each letter has a heart-wrenching essay-like message – it spans pages, trust him – dedicated to you, but kaeya never has the heart to actually send it out to your address. sticking on the stamps and pretending that he did will have to do.

diluc

lets his touch linger a little longer. a pat on the back can turn into him dusting off your shoulders, insisting that the recent fight left a splotch of mud on your tunic, when there was nothing at all. he's subtle about it, but his red-growing cheeks are a blaring signal that you notice.

childe

smiles more around you. he's a jokey man by nature, but with you? his smiles are genuine. he no longer needs to hide his troubles past a facade of happiness because with you, his happiness is genuine. it's real, and it's seeping through every pore of his body with the life you breathe into him.

alhaitham

like childe, he smiles ��� the stone face he usually reserves for the public is wiped away, now replaced with a gentle and soft smile that lights up his face. his demeanor changes; alhaitham is noticeably happier around you. people tell you that you change him, but you never seem to notice.

kaveh

he laughs. there's no more fake laughter to get out of situations or to please old aunties who are too involved in his life for him to be happy. he genuinely laughs at every joke you tell, or every silly gift you playfully give to him. these mourning flowers seem to perk up a little every time you're around.

taglist. @zuyoo @starz222 @ilyuu @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @dxstopiaa @mccnstruck @xiaosonlybeloved @trqvcii @slvdsjjk @liminalimmortal @vennnnn-diagram @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @ganyusbrideee @abyssalsprince @favonius-captain @snobwaffles @sn1perz @milkwithspiceyicecubes @softcosmixs @nnasv @chichikoi@aimynx @xiaxilia open! send an ask to be added.

[writingoddess1125]

You Give them Face Mask! 🧼

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Usopp, Buggy, Mihawk

Fluffy Fluff

Just felt like more Fluff Fluff rn 😌 Enjoy!

Luffy

Trying to get this man into a face mask is like trying to wash a puppy- A happy struggle and pain in the ass.

"Luffy please" You say with a sad eyes- He will fold after this and let you. However he doesn't sit still so you use a sheet mask that simply helps with oily skin.

"This smells nice" He will say as you have to bribe him with snacks to keep it on for 15 minutes.

"It's rose scented" You say and wear one yourself to keep him still with some gummy candies. Will have trouble sitting still and will start chatting and walking in circles as he waits.

Once it's over he rubs his shiny face and talks about how squeaky he sounds. Utterly destroying your work-

Sanji

Sanji is more then willing to indulge you. Picking out some mild scents and you do a peel off mask since he has deep pores.

"Wanna do the charcoal mask?" You offer which he accepts after finding the scent pleasant enough.

"Do people do these often?" He will flirt and talk about the curiosities in your self care. Once the mask is done he will complain about the tightness.

"That means it's ready to peel!!"

"AHHH! OW!!?" He yelps in surprise as you pull the mask off his face. His face bright red and raw from this so you add some water based moisturizer to his face. You show him the mask.

"That was in my face!?"

Will both be disgusted and fascinated by the amount of gunk pulled from his skin.

Zoro

His skin is fairly flawless which is honestly frustrating since he cares so little for his skin.

You offer the face mask anyway and he refuses for a while bit does eventually fold. You use a snail slime mask on him since it will keep him skin looking flawless.

"This smells funny..." He grumbles as he will lay there listening to you talk, Half asleep and waiting. Will open his eye occasionally and ask a few questions about your interest in this stuff.

You wipe it off and help him rince his face. Skin is pretty much glowing at this point and You stare in awe. "So pretty!"

"I'm going to go train now-" You scream at him in protest in trying to ruin his pretty face.

Usopp

Usopp is willing of course, since the ocean air drys his skin quite a lot. So you use a shea butter face mask and tap his skin with your fingers to help it soak in his rough skin.

"You know I once got a spa treatment from Mermaids like this-' He will spin his tales as You work. When you do rince off the mask you add some nice skin oils afterwards to his skin.

You rub a lot of oil in his skin and he will pause his stories as he judt enjoys the time. Will smell the jar you're using and a softness will run over his face in fondness.

"This smells like the stuff my mother used to use-" He will say with a smile. His skin looks shiny and golden by the time your done, making him look sexy- in his own words.

Will come back regularly to have you treat his skin and will even talk about stories with his mother from time to time.

Buggy

Grease paint wrecks havoc on one's skin Buggys especially since he wears it so much. Needs some detoxing clay mask then a aloe moisture one to replenish. If you're doing his face might as well deep condition his hair as well.

He does enjoy the attention and doing them since his face feels better. Secretly he actually has acne marks from his youth and some scars from before he ate a devil fruit.

"What was this one from?" You ask pointing to a light scar on his cheek.

"Hmm 10- Me and Shanks were trying to figure out blades better. Let's say I learned knives can bounce back at you-" He says amused and letting you work.

"The skin around your nose is dry" Buggy will frown, thinking you're about to insult him since even though he trust you the most his insecurities will win- till you carefully paint the mask on those areas and smile proudly.

"There we go, all better" You say and kiss his hand to go apply your own.

Will sit and listen to you read outloud or talk with him about show ideas as he lays there with the face mask.

"Can we do this every night?"

Mihawk

"No-" He will protest, his eyes narrowing as you offer the mask to him. However after enough begging and ever Perona joining in at pestering him he will fold.

Mihawk gets treated to a full spa day when this happens- A hydrating honey facemask on his skin, cucumbers on his eyes and even a hair mask in his hair to make it softer.

Perona is overjoyed as well as she cleans his nails and applies clear polish to make them shiny and nice! Grumbles the whole time silently and ends up Downing a bottle of wine.

"Do not get used to this-" He grumbles as he takes his wine and drinks from it as you and Perona work. He kinda looks like a spa mom-

Once done this man looks runway ready- His hair is much softer so sets lower, his skin flawless and even his beard looks nicer. Stares at you and Perona deadpanned and sighs-

"Thank you both for the nice gesture..."

[kamesama]

— ravishing: ryōmen sukuna.

— notes + warnings: human! husband! sukuna x wife! reader. slightly suggestive. domestic bliss because i am a self-proclaimed domestic fluff provider™ for a reason. — word count: 1094

he was lounging on the sofa, phone in hand, crimson eyes seemingly deeply immersed in whatever was on-screen. the remains of his coffee had gotten cold, but he held onto an unspoken intention to finish it within the upcoming minutes. there was little to no fatigue clinging onto him, but the aftermath of his day stained his frame nonetheless; the pair of buttons undone to reveal his clavicle, an occasional yawn that he did not bother to veil with the palm of his hand, the subtle bend of his spine that suggested leisure. he is begging for it, you concluded.

confidence seeped from your pores as you stepped into the living room, wordlessly demanding attention. however, your stomping was too subtle to capture sukuna’s interest. perhaps he had taken notice of your footfalls but refused to humour you – you couldn’t tell.

you coughed, clearing your throat. 

it was enough to make him look up, his brows going up to express an undeniable interest at the sight; your proud expression bearing gingerly mischief at its outlines as you slowly swayed your hips in order to make the skirt of your dress flow as if in the spring breeze. it was a lovely piece, hardly provocative save for a subtle v-line providing a small glimpse at cleavage. innocent. too innocent – excluding the way it revealed dying love-bites creeping up your neck. he would have to revive them, he thought.

something in your eye – an expectant, hopeful gleam – reflected an eager impatience; you were waiting for a praise, for something saccharine. honeyed. perhaps just a little indecent. you saw it in his gaze; coated and hazed with something akin to amour, softened in the manner familiar to you alone.

“oh? what’s this?” sukuna hummed, “do a little twirl for me, doll,” his phone was now abandoned and left to lay by a cushion, “let me see the whole thing.”

you obliged with sheer delight, the pirouette causing the material to flutter like a bud opening into a graceful flower. the movement exposed your knees for a split-second; a sight of forbidden fruit, teasing and tempting. a sense of warmth filled sukuna’s chest – you were utterly endearing and a sight to behold.

he would have patted his lap, as he always did when you, his precious little thing, chose to treat him to such a show. however, before he could set his palm onto his knee to deliver a message of that nature, you waltzed over with a grin tugging at the corners of your painted lips, straddling him with breathtaking decisiveness. the palms of your hands nested against his chest and made his body lean against the backrest of the sofa. instinctively, his own large ones came to lay across your thighs, moving up a little and dragging the skirt of the dress up merely a few inches. 

his gaze gently devoured the make-up on your face; every hue, every line, every blend. the angle of your jaw. the tease at the edges of your lips. the loving provocation reflected in your eyes as you teasingly ran your palms across his breasts before wrapping your arms around his neck.

there was something in-between the lines of your approach that made it vividly demure. your skin did not seem to ache for the fervorous touch and bittersweet bites. you looked at him with a tender genre of hunger which let him know you would prefer he lay you gently rather than pin you down. 

“you like it?” you whispered, your lips ghosting against the shell of his ear before you kissed his jaw. it sent shivers down his spine and then caused his body to relax.

“yes,” he admitted, “you look lovely, little one.”

“lovely?” disappointment dripped off your tongue as you pulled away to look down at him, your lips pursed and expression distorted to further express a sense of discontent. there was a dose of sarcasm subtly sprinkled over your alleged chagrin. sukuna chuckled at your reaction; a smooth, rich sound that never failed to tug at your heartstrings and stir something deep within the pit of your stomach.

“ravishing, my dear,” he added, lifting one of his hands off your thigh to cup your face between his fingers, “delectable,” his digits pressed into your skin, the pad of his thumb tapping over your pouting lips as if to inspect the lipstick and its quality, “and a little needy, too, i would say.” 

his other hand trailed up your leg, slithering across your hip before moving to squeeze your buttock. you smiled, your own moving to rest against the one on your face. 

“you’re imagining it,” you uttered against his thumb, placing a small kiss onto it before nuzzling his palm with your cheek, “i saw it on sale today. had to get it.” you elaborated for no reason in particular, “it’s so… dainty. leaves a lot to the imagination, doesn’t it?” there was something suggestive in your tone, dragging and tugging at your words very subtly. 

“not everything,” sukuna claimed, his hand nudging your chin up so as to have you expose your neck all the more. the dress left a good patch of your skin bare, nearly to the valley of your breasts. sukuna leaned in, pressing a small, chaste kiss against your collarbone before moving his lips up towards your pulse. his open mouth ravished the expanse above your clavicle, and you shut your eyes in ecstasy as your fingernails gently scraped across his scalp; digits sunken into the strands of his blush hair. it was a form of encouragement. 

a soft breath drifted off your lips, urging him to kiss you all the more; his teeth grazed your skin just enough to leave it ever so slightly aroused and pink. 

the air grew thicker and sweeter; honey-like.

the dedication with which sukuna tended to you made you aware that his mind was slowly getting clouded by desire. the way he pulled you closer against him, his hands trailing across the outlines of your body, spoke volumes of starvation slowly heating up inside of him. 

you had to make it worse.

“i might have bought new lingerie, too…” your voice trailed off, and you could almost hear the way sukuna’s eyes rolled back behind his closed lids as he groaned against the sweet spot at the curve of your neck. it took him just a second to push you down onto the sofa. 

it was nearly a pity that his desire to undress you peaked whenever you chose to dress up for him. 

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[skintreatmentinindia]

Professional Treatments for Minimizing Open Pores

The presence of too many open pores is noticeable and can be embarrassing, too. They can be difficult to deal with as they occur most commonly in areas such as cheeks, nose, forehead, etc., where they are easily visible. The small openings in the skin are known as open pores. With these pores, there are sebaceous glands, which are also known as oil glands.

Open pores can become enlarged due to several skin concerns, UV exposure, and puberty. These pores can also make the skin rough and less attractive. However, several dermatological treatments can treat open pores. In this post, we will discuss those professional treatments for getting rid of open pores. The insights for this post have been taken from Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a renowned dermatologist who performs the best open pores treatment in Hyderabad. Let’s start by knowing more about open pores. 

What are Open Pores? 

The skin has tiny openings known as open pores, which allow the skin to breathe and retain moisture. They also help the body to get rid of pollutants. But sometimes, the blockage can cause these pores to become enlarged. This is when they start causing issues. They are also more likely to develop in those who have oily skin. Even though the open pores are safe and painless, they can be unpleasant to the eyes, especially when they occur on the face. Open pores can result from a variety of factors, including heredity, aging, blackheads, excessive sweating, and an unhygienic lifestyle. To lessen the open pores, the dermatologist will recommend retinoids and salicylic acid and if it does not work, then other professional treatments can be used. 

What Causes Open Pores on the Skin?

Our skin consists of thousands of open pores that can not be visible to the naked eye. All the pores are naturally open and consist of hair follicles. Every pore also has an oil gland which produces oil from the skin, also called sebum. The hormones play a vital role in stimulating sebaceous glands, which produce an excessive quantity of sebum from the skin. This is why the pores, especially on the nose, cheeks or forehead, appear larger than the others. Following are some of the causes of open pores on the skin: 

Excessive production of sebum 

Thick hair follicles

Overexposure of sun 

Genetics

Reduced elasticity around the pores

Reduced production of collagen 

If one is experiencing open pores, one must contact an experienced dermatologist who specializes in treating open pores. For this, one can get in touch with Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a leading skin doctor in Hyderabad at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic, to get the best open pores treatment. Let’s understand the treatments that help treat open pores. 

How to Treat Open Pores?

There are several professional treatments available that can help treat open pores. These include: 

Topical Treatments: This includes topical retinoids such as tretinoin, benzoyl peroxide, topical nicotinamide, and alpha-hydroxy acids.

Oral Medications: These include birth control pills, oral retinoids, and antiandrogens that help to keep the hormones in balance and help minimize the appearance of open pores. 

Chemical Peels: Chemical peels such as lactic acid, salicylic acid, retinol, and trichloroacetic acid help in the controlled removal of the top affected layer of skin. This eventually makes the skin look younger and glowing and also by tightening the pores and reducing the open pores. 

Laser Toning: Non-ablative lasers such as Q-switched Nd: YAG and fractionated erbium YAG laser can be used on the area that is affected by open pores. The lasers help to shrink the enlarged pores, reduce the production of sebum and boost the production of collagen. This ultimately minimizes the appearance of open pores. 

MNRF (Fractional Microneedling Radiofrequency): The expert dermatologist makes use of tiny micro-needles, and micro-injuries are created in the skin to deliver radiofrequency energy in the deepest layers of the skin. This helps stimulate elastin and collagen production and causes reduced visibility of open pores. 

Final Takeaway 

Through this post, we have discussed the effective professional treatments that help reduce the appearance of open pores. If one has open pores and wants to minimize their appearance, they must get in touch with a renowned dermatologist to get its treatment. 

To do this, one can schedule a consultation with Dr. Ravali Yalamanchili, a top skin specialist at Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic. The expert skin doctor who offers the best open pores treatment in Hyderabad will first perform a thorough physical examination of the affected skin and will prepare a customized treatment plan. The treatment approach will depend on the severity of the condition. For more details on open pores treatment, visit Neya Dermatology & Aesthetics Clinic! 

Original Source:- https://64d094b49288d.site123.me/blog/professional-treatments-for-minimizing-open-pores

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Scars

Scars - marks created during the healing of damage to the skin or tissues.

After skin or tissue is wounded, the body releases collagen to mend the damage.

Collagen, a protein, reattaches the damaged skin.

As the wound heals, a temporary crust forms and covers it. The crust is a scab that protects the damaged area.

Scarring is the natural process of repairing an open wound, injury, surgical incision, or other conditions like acne.

Initially, a scar is red - blood vessels are created while the body forms scar tissue.

The damaged area is covered by a protective scab that eventually falls off.

The scar may become brown or pink.

It generally fades over time and becomes less visible.

The healing process takes from one year to 18 months. Some scars heal naturally. Other scars require additional treatment.

Hypertophic Scars and Keloids

Caused by an over-active healing process.

This produces an excessive amount of collagen at the wound site.

Both types of scars are red, thick, and raised above the wound.

Hypertophic scars do not extend beyond the wound site. The scar may itch and usually heals without professional treatment in about a year.

Keloids are large scars that could form after surgery, an injury, burn, or body piercing. This scarring often occurs on the ear lobe or chest.

Sometimes keloids develop spontaneously.

The keloid is raised, rigid, and grows beyond the wound. It can continue to grow.

Scars are generally harmless, but may itch or feel tender.

In addition, a person may feel self-conscious about the scar’s appearance.

Contracture Scars

Caused by the loss of a large section of skin due to burns or other injury.

The scar contracts or tightens around the wound.

This contraction could impact a person’s mobility.

If the scar deepens, it could affect muscles and nerves.

Acne Scars

May appear after the severe stage of acne, a skin condition usually caused by hormonal changes.

The inflammatory condition is seen in adolescence, but acne can occur later in life.

Severe acne is triggered by clogged pores that cause bacteria to multiply.

It occurs more frequently in adolescent boys than girls.

If the acne is not treated, there could be scarring.

The types of scars include pit-like pockmarks.

TREATMENT

A scar is permanent and cannot be completely removed.

However, treatment can alter a scar’s appearance.

Procedures range from the application of over-the-counter ointment to surgery.

Scar treatment should start after an injury because wound care affects scarring.

The wound should be cleaned and covered.

Picking at the scab breaks the collagen and allows germs to enter the wound.

Time also helps with healing.

Scars become smaller, and the color fades.

However, additional treatment is required for some scars.

While some procedures are more effective for keloids and hypertrophic scars, the procedure for acne scars is based on the type of scarring.

Treatment for burn scars may include skin grafts surgery.

Surgery - "scar revision"; the procedure modifies the scar’s appearance.

Steroid Injections - a singular form of treatment for scars, particularly keloid and hypertophic scars. Corticosteroids are an anti-inflammatory drug that helps to lessen the scar’s red color and thickness. The treatment flattens the scar and helps with itching.

Cyrosurgery - involves the freezing of freezes tissue with a probe containing nitrous oxide. It is used to modify scars, especially keloid and hypertrophic scars.

Dermabrasion - the removal of a layer of the skin’s surface. Scars including those caused by acne are smoothed or sanded by an instrument.

Silicone gel sheets - an be purchased over-the-counter. The sheets are worn over the scar area to seal moisture. The treatment helps with itching and to reduce scar thickness and color.

Alternate methods - of treating scars range from applying Vitamin E to massaging the skin. People should consult with a doctor or other healthcare professional before starting treatment involving contact with the scarred area. These procedures include applying obtained Vitamin E, aloe vera, or cocoa butter to the scar. Vitamin E is sold as an oil or obtained by opening a vitamin capsule. Aloe is an African plant and is sold in capsule form and as a skin care product. Cocoa butter is a fat made from cacao seeds. Those items are thought to help with healing so that a scar is less visible. However, time also helps to lessen the scar’s appearance. Those substances should be applied only after a scar is well-healed. Massaging mild scars is done to relax rigid scar tissue. The scar is massaged for about two minutes. Afterwards, Vitamin E oil is applied to the skin. The process should be discontinued if the area becomes sore or red.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Realistic Injuries

[platrom]

Infinity.

CHAPTER 1.

JJK x READER

SUMMARY: In every universe, Ryomen Sukuna will find you, whether it is by chance or not. But only time can tell if you awake to discover your doomed fate.

WARNINGS: sad tones, mentions of hard labor, the concubines are rude and abusive, mentions of mold, aguri is very playful, sukuna has a bride, reader gets beat up and belittled, reader is too aware but not too knowledgeable on their world, some heavy hints to Sukuna’s ultimate control over his people

MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

TAGLIST (slashed means could not be tagged): @xhoneymoonx134 @ofcqdesi

—taglist is open! if you would like to be added, please comment. :)

i. endless

The work gets easier the longer you do it. The constant bending of your knees, elbows, and back becomes almost natural the longer you spend dragging rotten mattresses, tossing dirty sheets, and folding those dreadful covers.

You’ve also learned that harsh, morbid environments like the living quarters of your fellow maids bring disgusting conditions to the rooms.

A certain type of fungi has begun to creep into the corners of the rooms and under the beds. You’ve found the darkness serves as an outstanding breeding ground for this fuzzy, green bacteria with speckles of white that act as pores.

The sight makes you sick to your stomach.

But a part of you wonders if the living quarters above for the men who kill the spirits and the king’s favored subordinates are bright with life. Maybe life grows there— maybe bonsais and cherry blossoms litter the windowstills and butterflies flutter inside and outside their rooms. Maybe creatures like rabbits and foxes settle inside when the sun is too warm, and the subordinates of Lord Sukuna get to relish in their presence.

“(Name)!” You turn your head, grasping the ends of the gray sheets and bunching them as you rise.

A beaming Aguri pops her head into the frame of the doorway. The end of her headband is falling from her hair, letting strands loose to rest against her cheeks. The ratty accessory was meant to be a pure, pristine white, but with years of cleaning soot and dust, it has become a murky grey, nearly a dirty black.

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the kitchen? The cooks are out on their break,” you rub your cheek with the collar of your uniform. “Uraume won’t be pleased if she sees you here.”

“Uraume is never pleased no matter what I do,” she moves towards you, lunging at you when you begin to move up to meet her. Together, you both tumble into the pile of dirty bedsheets and pillows covers that decorate the floor. She giggles as you groan in pain. “As long as my duties get done on time, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

The back of your head throbs against the itchy material of threaded cloth. “If you say so, Aguri.”

She grins, smushing her head into the crook of neck. She inhales deeply, before releasing a slow breath.

“Are you smelling me?” you grab her shoulder, tugging at her sleeve in an attempt to remove her from your side. “What are you, a dog?”

Aguri makes no movement, but merely holds on tighter. When she speaks, her voice is quieter. “What if I was a hound? Like one of Lord Sukuna’s.”

“Why would you ever want that?” you frown. The absurd statement is not anything new from Aguri, but it is the tone she holds that sets you aback.

She doesn’t get quiet or melancholic often. Even when she spoke about the grimmer things in her life or her past, she didn’t dim as much as now.

“Maybe, I would be treated better,” she sighs. “You know, they always need those dogs. The blood-hunting ones that they send out to attack traitors or find enemies. And they feed them well— the chefs give them some of the nicest meat I’ve seen… but that stake isn’t very high.”

You understand. Meat is a rarity to the poor, but a normalcy to the rich. The wealthy gorge on the finest slices of beef, chicken, pork, and any fatty animal they can find.

The poor cannot eat anything but crumbs. Bread, if they can make it. Cheese if they can get a goat or trade for it. And for most, scraps of berries or bits of rotten vegetables tossed out serve as their only food source.

There are people outside who run into estate’s dumping grounds daily. You’ve watched as they fished out slivers of carrot peels or orange centers and devoured as much as they could.

They would be killed if they were caught. They would be humiliated by all the kingdom and even the town, despite how poor they are as well.

You’ve see the bodies, sometimes. In the kitchen with the staff, with Uraume holding the knife, cutting the limbs. The chefs look green with disgust at the sight of a body being torn, boiled, and seasoned. It’s a blessing that Lord Sukuna has designated Uraume to be his main chef when it comes to humans.

You’re not sure anyone truly human could handle it. But you know for a fact, Uraume is not. And neither is Lord Sukuna.

But you’re not sure what they are, either.

“It must be nice to be cared for,” you murmur, your hands threading into Aguri’s hair. “To be well fed, groomed, and treated like royalty. Their bedding must be nicer as ours. Made out of pure cotton and sewn with the finest of threads. Pure white, like the sheeps and bunnies in our dreams.”

Your fingers tug against tangles, curves, and bumps. It’s a comforting motion for you, and her. To feel the gentleness of another person, instead of the harsh treatment you both are constantly subjected to.

The hard labor, yelling, and constant threat of death. It’s overwhelming and drowning. It’s dispiriting and crushing. Most here die at their 20s. The average life expectancy is one’s early 40s.

It’s the stress that kills them the fastest. And the slaughtering of them in the masses, as well.

Aguri whines, kneeing you in the side. “Why did you stop? I was getting comfortable!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, before a pained smile grows on your face.

You wish she would never have to worry about her life. You wish you could protect Aguri with your life, and that would be enough.

“How about we sneak into the kitchen? I heard the head baker made some new pastries with a special strawberry cream.”

Aguri perks, staring at you with wide eyes. “Can we?”

You wink. “As long as we don’t get caught.”

In an instant, she tugs at your arm and pulls you up, sprinting out of the room.

Her laughter is all you need to match her pace.

I hope you stay like this forever, Aguri.

ii. bastion

Lord Sukuna marries Akazome Emon on the night of your birthday.

You have the pleasure of preparing for the ceremony. The tables, the food, and all the decorations are overseen by Uraume, while the maids of the estate fulfill the duty of beautifying the already breathtaking garden where the celebration will be held.

The wedding has no more than fifty guests. It’s small, for a king as powerful as him— but it’s fitting and understandable.

Lord Sukuna has enemies who drool at the chance to even brush shoulders with him. To be able to infiltrate his palace is a feat that no man or woman has ever achieved. All concubines are checked thoroughly and every servant goes through a lengthy process before they are admitted to work for the king.

But the news of his bride will spread quickly. The parchments will fly and the whispers of mothers will flood the ears of the neighboring kingdoms.

His Queen will become an immediate target as a way to crumble his spirit and overthrow his authority. Riots will begin in the streets, and wars will rebirth.

In a matter of hours, the world will be in chaos once Lord Sukuna marries his bride.

Though, a small voice in the back of your head believes that the king thrives in danger and destruction. It is the motto of the Sukuna estate.

You purse your lips, staring at the sheer sheets that line the wooden poles now cemented into the corners of the garden. Tree peonies line the ends of the box-like structure, while chrysanthemums are sparsely dispersed around the seats.

The gardeners are exceptional at their job, you crouch to inspect the flowers. Your eyes trace over the delicate ridges of the baby pink in the peonies, and the fluffs of white in their centers. They are beautiful, bright, and voluminous; fit for royalty.

The maids have gossiped about the bride’s bouquet after one of the florists had dropped the sketch of the design on the garden’s ground.

It appears that her bouquet will be filled with nippon daisies at the center and lavender rimming the daisies. It was an odd choice for a woman as exquisite as Akazome Emon to have such common flowers be the choice for her bouquet— especially for them to be the kinds of flowers the poorest of the kingdom eat.

You wonder if her choice of flowers mean something greater than just to look nice, but you’ll never know. The privilege of accessing books was never one you had.

It wasn’t like you could even read or write to begin with.

“Work faster, Uraume will be out soon! The ceremony must look spotless for our king,” the head maid is running around like a headless chicken, straightening creases and perfectly spacing the seats from each other. Maids back out of her way as she sways around, screaming orders at anyone who looks her way. The flock of you are sent scattering as guards begin to enter the grounds.

For such a wonderful day, the workers of the estate are tense and on edge.

“Did you hear that Lady Emon appointed Lord Sukuna’s other suitors as his concubines?” Two ladies veiled in crème colored robes brush past you as you adjust the deserts on the table. The material looks smooth and soft— like velvet. It’s a type of cloth you’ve heard Uraume describe to her seamstress about her robes. “For a future Queen, she is keen on throwing any woman she possibly can at the man who will bring her unlimited power.”

Along their necks lies an engraving of blood-red roses lined with heavy, black ink. When the ends of their robes rise, around their ankles rests a gold chain intertwined with bits of lavender.

They must be concubines.

The king was known to lavish his mistresses in the finest of jewels and clothes from raids against neighboring estates.

“What are you looking at?” a nauseatingly saccharine voice snaps. A blur of black and white drops into your view and you stumble backwards. “You stupid whore, who are you to look at me?”

Your mouth runs dry and your tongue becomes heavy. Instantly your head falls to the ground with your hands under your forehead and your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry, my lady. Forgive me, please.”

She scoffs, before yanking at the shoulder of your uniform to bring your face up to hers. Strands of fine, black hair lay across the front of her face, the ends brushing against the white of her makeup. The pigment on her lips is a bright, vibrant red that contrasts the paleness of her face and the darkness of her hair.

She’s breathtakingly deadly.

She must be one of Sukuna’s favorites. Her aura is so fierce, but her features are somehow delicate and sharp.

Her nails dig into your arm and the corners of her lips slide down her face. The iris of her eyes are a deep brown, nearly blackened by the anger that spreads through her body. Her eyebrows are tightly knit, the perfect arch in her brows now flattened into a hard slope.

“You dirty, proletariat brat. You must wish this was the life you lived, huh? You must wish you were worthy of Lord Sukuna the way we are,” she spits as the the tips of her nails dig deeper into your skin. You have no doubt the moment she releases your arm, blood will gush from the indentations of her nails on your skin.

The other concubine steps forward. She’s just as stunning as the other, but her features differ vastly. Instead of a foxy look of slender features and slim eyes, her jaw is soft, her lips are round, and her eyes are wide like a doe’s.

“It’s astonishing that Uraume allowed the scum of the estate to even step outside of the dungeons today,” she frowns, bending down to invade your space. She scans your features, trailing over the dust that clings to the creases of your clothes and the swatch of white paint across the back of your hand.

You’re surprised as well that Uraume allowed you to participate in preparing the ceremony. Despite your promotion, you still worked in the lower parts of the castle, commonly referred to as “the dungeon.” Rats, cockroaches, and snakes are common sights in the halls, and fuzzy spores are found on every end of each room. The maids of your levels speculate that the ground level of the estate is littered with ceramic vases, gold plated portraits, crystalline walls, and the smells of roses and joy.

It’s been awhile since you’ve smelled anything but must and damp walls, hasn’t it?

You bow your head, shutting your eyes. This battle cannot be won— the concubines will win. The aristocracy always succeed, even if they are wrong. It’s an endless cycle engraved in the history of your people. Prosperity and wealth do not come to those born into poverty— it runs in the veins of those fortunate enough to have lived at a time where a man was willing to adopt a boy, or for those who have leeched themselves to the top.

The voice in the back of your head brings you to believe that these two are the latter of the group.

“Now, you want to show some respect?” the concubine tightens her grip around your arm before tossing you back to the ground. A glob of spit lands on your cheek as the other scoffs, kicking your chest. You curl into yourself, clutching your head noiselessly.

The faster this goes, the sooner I can go to finish my duties and head to bed.

You pray someone will step in and separate the two from you; you want nothing to do with these concubines. Their sight of their perfectly primped hair and glassy skin was only supposed to be a glance for your own entertainment, to relish in the joy of the world above you. It was meant to be a taste of a world you would never exist in— a distraction from the harshness of reality that existed inside the walls of the estate.

The sight of the swaying cherry blossoms, the freshness of the grass beneath your feet, and the gentle breeze in your hair were meant to be figments of your imagination that you could play in your head until your final days in the manor. The tulle that surrounded the wooden posts were meant to design the gown in your dreams, in a life where you would find a loving husband and spend the rest of your life with a lover who would destroy the world to merely bring it to your feet.

Now, you recognize that you stepped out of place. You thought too hard and believed too much in an unattainable fantasy. In no life were you destined to be happy.

In no universe did you belong with plates of fluffy, sugary cakes and tender meats and soft cheeses. Doughy breads coated with flour were never meant to be placed on your table for dinner.

Instead, you were meant to eat a bowl of leftover bone broth and a slice of stale brown bread. You would never live to pluck a berry off a bush, or lay in a bed of flowers in the cool evenings.

Those were impossible tales for girls like you. They were realities for women like them.

Please, make this punishment quick and easy. Let me go to my room and speak with Aguri until my mouth runs dry and my eyes close shut. Let me sleep ‘till my next day of cleaning and collect the ribbons and threads of color that Aguri loves.

Let me make it to my room tonight, please. That is all I ask for today and forever.

The last thing you hear before a blow is made to your head is a terrified scream, the crashing of glasses, and the sound of rushing footsteps.

#© platrom, plot / writing / banners & headers. do not repost, reblogs are appreciated! please consider leaving a comment and a heart! <3

[yestrday]

hihi! may i suggest the 2nd years’ reaction to a teasing but easily flustered darling? they’re like a mix of a hiyakasudere (teasedere) and a dandere. long story short, it’s kinda like “oooo you want to kiss me so bad aha” to “WAIT WHY ARE YOU GETTING SO CLOSE” kinda thingy + don’t forget to take care of yourself! don’t forget to drink water and get some rest! :)

hoooly shit this has been in my drafts for so long and i finally had a sudden spark of inspiration to finally finish it. i'm so sorry anon you've waited a terribly long time

now, for the moments where your yandere harem is not-so-yandere and relatively normal-looking

you might like: yan! academy genshin second years

you thought that you'd get to share a nice lunch with your dear friend albedo after he invited you to a nice secluded spot for the both of you to spend lunch together. the food was definitely nice— this is albedo we're talking about after all— but you couldn't help but find yourself pouting. all he had been doing all lunch was sketch away at his papers.

hmph. you think. shouldn't he give me a bit of his attention?

hoping to sneak some sort of reaction out of him, you inch closer to his drawings. he’s never had a problem with you looking at his unfinished work and yet his strong but gentle hand reach out and firmly root you to your position. “don’t move,” he mutters. and then a long period of silence follows, but this time his eyes study every inch of your face and body.

"don't you think you're starin' at me a bit too much?" you croon, flashing one of your mischievous grins at the ever stoic student with the hope of alleviating some of the awkardness you feel. "someone might think you have a crush on me.”

“maybe i do,” he hums. “what about it?” it’s so nonchalant that it’d pass through anyone’s ears as a joke, but you’re so hyper-aware of everything right now that the blush starts rising to your cheeks, gaping at him with an open mouth.

“wh– what?!” you hate how squeaky your voice is.

“oh nothing,” he resumes back to his sketching before he gives you a glance over and smirks at you. “don’t you think you’re blushing too much? someone might think you have a crush on me.”

“a– albedo!”

no one knows how xiao lets you get away with how overly touchy you are. you’re not exactly what they’d imagine to be hanging around xiao. you smile too much, flirt and tease with people, and you drag the boy around to places almost embarassing to be seen at. but xiao follows anyway. one moment he’ll go: “hmph. and why should i?” but when you pout and just whine about going with another boy, he’s immediately latching onto your arm.

you’re aware of how differently xiao treats you and to be honest, you’re a little bit smug. you like to exert your power over him time to time. pushing a little too close or trailing your fingers up his surprisingly toned muscles just to tease him.

“you’re shameful,” he’d huff and look away, but you’re delighted at how his porcelain face turns into a bright cherry shade and continue teasing him anyway.

xiao is aware of this power you have over him, but he doesn’t stop you. he likes this warm and fluttery feeling you overwhelm him with. still, it’d be nice if he could change the tables for a moment and make you stutter and blush instead.

this musing of his is shelved away in his mind until an impromptu study date comes up. poring over your textbooks for the upcoming quiz, you snack away on some nuts to help you concentrate. when xiao looks up, he sees some crumbs on you’re too focused to notice. absentmindedly, he reaches over the table and slides a finger to wipe away the crumbs. you take this the wrong.

“wh- what are you doing?!” you squeak, face blaring red. “we’re studying, you know!”

he hushes you. “hold still.”

he brings the finger to his mouth and licks up the food, confused at your shock and embarassment but no questioning it. he sits back down and resumes his studies while you spend the rest of the session covering your face with a book and fanning your face. xiao remains ever oblivious as he focuses on passing the test, unaware that his wish has already been granted.

kazuha takes your flirtatious advances seriously, because well, romance and love must be taken seriously. somewhere in the back of his mind he can sense that you’re just joking... still, let kazuha delude himself for a tiny bit.

all flirty remarks of yours are responded with sincere and genuine exclamations of love which has you blushing and running away with every encounter with him. you don’t even know why you bother anymore, but perhaps it’s the urge to see the ever so calm and serene kazuha lose his composure because of you.

it’s for the sake of blushy kazuha! you pump yourself up before pushing open the classroom doors. the boy idles by the window sill, away from the chatter of your classmates. your presence immediately has him perking up and smiling at you from across the room. you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

be still, be confident. you’re gonna get him today! 

“hi kazu~” you grin, sauntering over to him with brimming confidence. “your most favorite person is here!” you open your mouth, planning to pour out another set of cheesy pick-up lines and compliments, but kazuha reacts quicker.

“indeed, you are here right now,” he says in nigh reverence. he takes a stray lock from your hair and twirls it around his finger. “i’ve missed you over the weekend, you know?” he kisses it and smiles at you. the morning sun lights his face aglow, and the wind brushing past the window makes his hair flutter along with your heart. “oh, [your name]? you’re redder than a maple leaf.”

steam puffs out of your ears at being called out, and you stumble back, glaring at him. “i-i’ll get you one day, kazu! i swear i will!” and when you make a tactical retreat, kazuha only laughs to himself before fondly kissing the finger that held your lock of hair so tenderly.

you honestly thought that thoma would be the easily flustered type, but he's really not. it's always the same reaction out of him: you flirt, he stops, stares, and his lips crack into a brilliant yet amused smile. your charms, that have flawlessly worked on both me and women, are received like an elder brother witnessing their sibling's antics.

it makes your blood boil! really! the audacity of this guy to just shrug off your remarks when you're already growing desperate to get a reaction out of him! you up your charisma, bat your lashes more, but no, nada! it makes you a bit insecure— juuuust a little. is your allure starting to wane?

you're sulkily poking at your lunchbox, too caught up with your little dilemma to actually eat. thoma notices from across you, and his brows pinch together in concern as he regards your expression.

"is everything okay, [your name]?" he asks softly, placing a gentle hand on yours to let you know he's there. "you don't seem to have an appetite today. is the lunchbox i made not up to your liking?"

you might be sulking, but archon forbid you make thoma think his cooking wasn't up to standard! you frantically shake your head, before settling down and letting out a sigh.

"thoma~" you let out a whine, grasping his hand on yours with both of yours. you pout as prettily as you can, letting the lips you meticulously glossed this morning do their job, bat your lashes, and doing everything and anything you can in your power to turn it up a hundred times more. "be honest with me. do you find me pretty at all?"

his eyes widen at the question. "o– of course, i do, [your name]! there's no one in this school who doesn't find you attractive." something dark flickers in his eyes for a moment as he mutters lowly. "believe me."

that shadow disappears as soon as it comes, and squeezes your hands reassuringly. "more than just being attractive, i like you for who you are." his soft green eyes crease downward in a fond look, and you think your heart is racing a hundred miles per second. "i'm here with you, aren't i?"

you do your utmost best to respond, but your tongue fails you. your brain has short-circuited, and you can barely hear anything than the pounding of your heart and the muffled worried calls of your name. you slump in your seat, steam coming out of your brain and dizzy from the heartburn. you are defeated at your game.

there are advantages and disadvantages to flirting with the scaramouche. when you shoot him one of your teasing remarks or sidle a bit too close to his side, the people around you look at you like you're crazy.

and you are. you're crazy obsessed with his reactions, how sardonic and dry-humor they are but so cute and feisty. so what if his glares keep getting scarier and scarier, if his lips curl up in a sneer whenever he sees you. you don't waste a single moment in trying to get a reaction out of him!

"hey, scara~♪" your head pops out from the corner while he's busy with his locker, and glances at you before resuming with his work. "you're as cute as ever as always!"

"and i can see that you still insist on being annoying," he says plainly, before slamming his locker shut and fixing you with his signature dirty glare. "when will you stop bothering me, or do i have to put up with your nonsense until graduation?"

"only if you'll have me~"

"idiot," he scoffs. "to be disturbing me like this day in and day out. you have some nerve, [last name]. are you really that keen on breaking my peace? or—" he studies your face carefully, before a smug smile breaks out on his lips. "are you really that obsessed with me?"

your mind blanks out at the sudden accusation and you can feel the heat rising in your face. "o–obsessed with you? don't be absurd! i– you– you're not the only one, you know! don't get too full of yourself." your face reddens further as his smirk only grows, and you stomp your foot childishly. "believe me!"

"tut, tut, [last name]. you won't get further in this society if you wear your hearts on a sleeve like that. but don't worry." he lifts your chin up with a slender finger, and as much as that knowing grin of his is humiliating, you can't help but appreciate how alluring the expression is on him. "since you're so obsessed with me, i don't mind letting a commoner like you live under my care when the time calls for it."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn't your proudest moment. You don't have many of those. There is little remarkable about, nothing of note, nothing admirable. You might stand a bit taller than most but it's rarely given as a good thing. 

You never expected much of life. You resigned yourself to living in the shadows. In particular, you knew you would always bet outshone by your sister's light. You can't hate her for it; it's your own shortcoming. Besides, no one can hate Riannon, she's just that nice. 

You are dark smear on the family name. It's why you didn't even think to ask your parents for help. You didn't even ask your sister, she offered, insisted really. You could never deny her and in this instant, you couldn't afford any other option. 

It’s just for a while, you keep telling yourself. You’ll find a new job and a place soon. For now, you’ll just stay out of the way. It isn’t very hard; you take up much more room than your few possessions. 

You keep yourself holed in the guestroom as you settle into your second day. You have your laptop on your thighs as you scroll the job boards. You have the experience but you expect your reference would be any good. You didn’t exactly end on cordial terms. Starting from square one, though the industry isn’t exactly even ground for men and women alike. 

You hunker down to search through the various postings within your purview. Every classification is ticked off, even the years, it’s just that little note about contacting your previous employers that makes you nervous. Well, you at least have to try. 

A knock comes at the door as you edit your cover letter once again. You sit up and close the computer. You slide it aside and get up. You cross the room and crack the door open. You sister smiles from the other side. 

“Am I making too much noise?” You ask as your music plays music from its tiny speaker. 

“No, no, not at all. Um, so you know Andy is out of town for the day so it’s just us,” she rocks, “and there’s a barbecue down the street so... I thought you could get to know the neighbourhood.” 

You look down at her, the offer catching you off guard. You were prepared to spend the whole day hidden away and poring over job listings. Even when you had your own place, you tended to spend most of your own time inside. 

Still, she is doing you a huge favour and it would be rude to say no. You shrug, “okay.” 

“Great, I have some potato salad I'm bringing,” she chirps.  

“Uh,” you look at her blue checkered capris and pristine white blouse, “should I change?” 

“It’s up to you. I'm just going to get packed up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

Her excitement is palpable. She probably expected you to say no. You don’t want to let her down again. You’re tired of that feeling. 

You close the door as she bounces away and you retreat to search through your still unpacked suitcase. Your clothes hang over the sides. You pick out a band shirt and a pair of dark grey jeans. You don’t have any shorts and you know your repertoire of dark colours only draws in the sun’s fury, and like of the vaunted HOA, but you don’t have many options. 

You emerge with a pair of converse in hand and head into the kitchen. Rhiannon snaps the lid onto a big bowl as she beams up at you. You don’t understand how you share the same blood, she’s so different than you. Where you’re tall and gangly, she’s small and dainty; where your dour and reticent, she’s bright and bubbly. Your parents even kidded that you must’ve been switched at the hospital. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

You nod and look down at yourself. 

“If you want to borrow a skirt or something, it’s pretty hot out.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You don’t take her offer as any comment on your choice, only genuine concern. If it was your mom, you would know it was more than that. To be fair, your mother is very direct with her critiques. Besides, even if her clothes would fit you, you don’t want to risk ruining any of her things. 

“Alrighty, well, Marge will kill me if I’m late again,” she sings and sweeps around with the bowl. “It’ll be nice to get out, huh?” 

“Mhmm,” you grumble and follow her down the hall to the front door. 

She steps into her wedged sandals as you sit to pull on your converse and lace them up. You stand and get the door for her as she prances towards it. She thanks you and you trail her out. The sun hits you like fire. It’s so hot, though you think some of the heat comes from your own self-consciousness. 

As you catch up to your sister at the bottom of the steps, you slow down to keep from outpacing her shorter legs. Even with her platformed soles, she’s still ahead shorter than you. You turn down the sidewalk as you shy away from the strange faces headed in the same direction. 

“You want me to carry that?” You offer. 

“Hey, I might be small but I can handle a salad,” she chirps. 

“I know, I wasn’t--” 

“I’m teasing. It’s fine, I got it,” she assures you as she hugs the bowl to her stomach, “I just want you to have a good day. Don’t think about everything else, okay?” 

“Mm, okay,” you keep your head down as you slink next to her jouncing steps, “sorry, I'll try not to be too grim.” 

“Whatever, you’re awesome,” she nudges you with her elbow, “you just be yourself and I know you’ll find some good friends around here.” 

You try to smile but it hurts. She always sees the best in others, even when it’s not there. You keep pace with her and turn up another curated lawn. The walk is perfectly laid and the blossom tree sways overhead. 

Rhiannon is welcomed through the open gate by one of those blonde women she has her book club with and you shuffle in with your hands in your pockets. You feel the woman’s harsh gaze and peek up. She looks at you the same way your mother does. Her name is Marge and her friend is Callie and there are dozens of the Stepford-like figures posted throughout the yard. 

“Come, let’s put your salad out,” Marge insists. 

Rhiannon looks at you and you chew your cheek, “go, I'll be fine.” 

She looks reluctant but you’re already walking away. You ignore the smell of sausage and beef rising from the barbeque and the splash and laughter of children from the pool. You aren’t going to find any friends here. That much is clear. Housewives and little kids, you don’t really fit the bill. 

You find your way to the far end of the lawn and stand by a tree you might just blend into. Or maybe you might bury yourself in the rose bushes. You pull your hands from your pockets and hook your fingers into your belt loops, swaying as you watch a bumble bee hover over the grass. 

“Foo Fighters, huh?” A low drawl brings your head up as a man approaches with a beer bottle in hand. 

“Um, yeah,” you look down at your shirt, tugging on the hem. 

“You go to a show?” He asks as he stops near you, drinking from the bottle as he waits for your answer. 

“Never been to one,” you cross your arms, “but I listen to them.” 

“Ah, yeah, well, they put on a hell of a show,” he wiggles the bottle as he talks, “lot more fun than these things.” 

You look up the yard towards the mingling of voices and sound. Despite your efforts to hide in a corner, you must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Shoot, maybe he thinks you’re trespassing. 

“I came with my sister,” you point and shift towards the party, “sorry, um, Rhiannon. I didn’t... I was just looking at the roses.” 

“Not my party,” he scoffs, “I don’t care.” 

“Oh,” you blink and look at him. He's about your height, dark curly hair, and vibrant blue eyes. His dark beard is thick and stubble prickles along his neck. He wears a plain white shirt and jeans; the bare minimum. “Right, er, well...” 

“Not a bad idea, hiding behind a tree,” he remarks, “but you're missing the key ingredient.” 

He stops and stares, crooking a brow as if you should know what he means. 

“Alcohol,” he raises his bottle, “they got a keg even. Probably the only good part about these bull—these things.” 

“I don’t drink,” you mutter, “but thanks.” 

You put your head down and stare at the grass around his shoes. You don’t know why he’s bothering you if it isn’t to make you leave. Obviously, you don’t belong. 

“Never too late to start,” he snorts and stays as he is. 

You don’t know how to make him leave you alone so you say nothing. The bee dips into a tulip’s mouth and you turn to watch it. Maybe he’ll take your silence as a hint. 

[sideysvault]

ೀ Patching Deadpool up years after he left you (part 2) ೀ

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Part one (but it can be read as a stand alone!)

Word count: 1k

Tags: [sfw] minors dni. Canon typical violence, angst, a happy ending.

────────

Wade slowly opened his heavy eyelids, an acute headache plaguing his frontal area, and the pain of sloppy sewing, too tight bands and its growing limbs had settled in.

The woman looked, on the other hand, like a divine apparition, sitting on a sofa, blankly staring at the bed he was in with red eyes and a frown. The fever of the night before had dissipated. All the jokes, the progress, the kisses, and the touch lingered obsolete above the carpet on the floor, and the unsaid questions rose upon them with a threatening silence. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew that he had to say something. Anything. Rekindle the understanding of the night before.

His sudden movements seemed to take you out of your mind. She got up and sat by his side with a polite, absurd distance between the two. 

She looked at his face and he felt naked and vulnerable yet again. She murmured with a strained voice “Just because it grows back, it doesn’t mean you get to do that”. 

Wade did not know what she was talking about, and the comment could have easily been mistaken for a whisper.

“What was that, honey?”

“Just because it grows back, it doesn’t mean you get to treat yourself as garbage” He heard it loud and clear this time, and she angrily continued “Like a farm pig, like trash. You do realize that, do you?. It’s disgusting, Wade.”

He must have made a face that gave his feelings away, because she added “Not you. Not your face, but how carelessly you-, You are destroying your body. Like a slaughterhouse. It’s, fuck-“

A knot had formed on her throat, and her eyes began crying again, without the woman’s permission. She tried to be strong for him. To be stoic about it. But she had kept herself up all night, in fear that the love of her life would disappear again, that he would take up and leave. And just as the tiredness began to win, as the feeling of the fabric on the couch began to embrace her, just as her eyes closed: There it was. The images of Wade’s blood, of his limp body, his burnt face. The woman didn't know how horrifying the feeling of losing him again felt. After therapy and time had

helped her realize that he was gone, that he did what he thought best. And there he was, suddenly alive, unburied and injured, haunting her again. And God, the love had not left. She knew that, that she’d love him forever. But even the slight touch of his skin on her lips had brought her back to life. Igniting every pore on her skin, appeasing every fear, putting to rest every contained breath, any worry.  It was just too much.

Wade, who had recovered a bit of his mobility, rose to a sitting position and opened his arms towards the woman. She tiredly fell on his chest. Crying until there were no tears left, while the man played with her hair and drew circles around the skin of her back, he made sure to mark his breathing, as it had always helped her with anxiety.

When she finally calmed down, he pulled the blanket over the two, and heard her say something to the crook in his neck “You are still a person”.

He felt her warm, wary breath on his skin, and she began to place soft, small kisses upon his neck. The clumsy kisses went all up to his scarred face, and they didn’t stop there, even with the salty tears that were coming out from Wade’s eyes. And they did not stop when he pulled her closer, tighter, desperate for connection, maddened by years of guilt, shame, and longing.

They were resting their foreheads on one another, and the buzzing of the wakening streets could be heard from the window. It filled the room with noises, chatter, the comforting smell of a nearby bakery and the occasional laughter. Wade closed his eyes. She was inviting him to be a part of all of that. After everything, still a person, still a man.

He could feel his own unsteady breathing, and how his palms became sweaty alongside his decision. As he looked at the woman before him, he began to feel self-conscious. She was as beautiful as he remembered her. Even with the red eyes, and especially with the messy hair.

By the time he had put his hands around her face, all his worries melted again. He could feel the warmth on her reddening cheeks as he finally placed her lips on hers. Kissing her again made him feel like the man he used to be. Devouring each other, re exploring all the familiar places. It was at that moment when he decided that she was right. He was still a human being, and he could tell by the way his heart fluttered when he saw her again, and by the strong urge he felt to protect her, to make her laugh.

Their lips only separated enough to take quick breaths, to form sloppy smiles, and for him to tell her how much he loved her, over, and over again. He affectionately held her face, and his hands traveled all around her body. Infusing warm air to her neck, waist, and legs. She was painfully tender, and she did not shy away from his skin.

They spent the whole afternoon intertwined in bed, enjoying the rest and comfort the previous night had denied them, and by nighttime, they had walked out of the apartment holding hands. Wade felt that familiar sense of pride and love coming in through the air he breathed, filling his lungs as she confidently walked through the busy streets, not paying any mind to the heads turning, or the way he was still slightly limp from his injuries. When they returned home, with a brand-new pair of heels and buckets of white paint, all he could do was hug her. Not wanting to let go ever again.

────────

Notes: I’m sorry for the delay! I’ve been super busy with family and work. Thank you so much for sharing my stuff, and for sending in a request. I've not gotten one of those in a while and I had so much fun. I missed Wade. It came out so sappy and corny but whatever

Take care! -Sidey xxo

Based on this request.