#Try Hard Sunday Session

[billa-billa007]

Picnic & Try Hard Sunday Session | Indoor Climbing | Bouldering

Bouldering is a form of rock climbing that involves climbing short, challenging routes, known as "problems," on artificial climbing walls or natural rock formations without the use of ropes or harnesses

[sai-int]

fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS. [ pt 2 ]

--

it's quite simple.

simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.

and you're just so good at taking it—whatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know how—until you go blue in the face—and simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdump—you name it, he's probably said it.

it's perfect, until it's not.

he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.

simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.

his mask would come fully off—not just above his lips��and you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.

It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.

after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.

you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.

so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.

then even you began to notice the shift.

simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.

then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.

it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.

now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.

hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.

"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.

and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."

you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.

"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude but—"

this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.

"'m in love with ya."

one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"simon, i don't think you understand—"

"—i do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."

this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know better—and if the lighting wasn't so dim—you'd think he was tearing up.

you didn't know how to break it to him.

[verstappen-cult]

PRAISE, M. VERSTAPPEN.

✶ SUMMARY. Max knows he’s good at his job, he was raised to be the best driver, the perfect son, and knows he’s talented. The bad thing is that he has to listen to people complimenting him almost everyday. He really thinks he’s good at hiding how shy and uncomfortable it makes him, and it’s just that Max can’t seem to take compliments from anyone but you.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. lots of fluff. my favorite kind of max: flustered max. P in V. sub/dom dynamics. praise kink. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it kiddos. breeding kink. redbull racing slander because we are tired of them not doing their job. english is not my first language.

GWEN RAMBLES — i started writing this after the awful events of sunday, and finished it today! this was requested a while ago and to the person who asked for it – i’m sorry it took me so long! hope y’all like it. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Max gets uncomfortable when people compliment him. He knows he's good at what he does, knows he’s talented. And when people call him handsome? Compliment his hair? His arms? He has a hard time trying not to show how affected he actually is.

However, you know him in ways the rest of the world doesn't.

Max likes it when you compliment his cooking. It's not deserving of a five star Michelin rating, but good enough to eat and perfect the dish.

"How did you came up with this?" You ask, raising a spoonful of vegetables with a sweet and sour sauce.

Max can't keep his eyes off of you, waiting for your reaction patiently and anxiously. "I saw it in a video. But it was my idea to add the sauce to give it a little spin." He shrugs, his cheeks gaining a pretty pink color the second you make eye contact with him.

"It's delicious," You whisper, licking the rests of sauce from the spoon. Max's eyes glaze over and he forces himself to look away if he actually wants to make it through dinner. "You're such a good cook, Max. If you weren't a racing driver, I'm sure you would've had a restaurant."

Now, Max blushes furiously, the spoon falling from his fingers and on the plate. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind, and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing at his flustered state.

Max likes it when you jump into his open arms after a good qualifying session or podium celebrations, all happy and giddy as he still tries to shake off the adrenaline.

"You did such a good job!" He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground. He's still pretty much on cloud nine and with you in his arms it can't get any more perfect. "You were flying out there!"

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” You are not looking at his precious face, but you know he’s blushing for the way his voice falters. Once he puts you down, Max hides his face away by busying himself with getting rid of his champagne-soaked race suit.

His reluctance to accept your compliment doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, he always brushes them off. You thought he didn't like it at first, it was really awkward when you started dating and he would ignore you, but as time went on you learned that he just doesn't know how to react to them. His PR training has helped him a lot for when the press and the public in general praise him for his excellent driving and fast reflexes almost every day of his life, but Max still gets flustered when you are the one complimenting him. You love to tease him about it.

Max likes it when you praise him during sex.

Especially when he surrenders himself to you.

"Look at you," You coo at him, the back of your hand caressing his cheek ever so slightly. "being so good for me." Max draws in a sharp breath, your touch burning in the most delicious way even if you're barely doing it.

You press a kiss on his naked shoulder, his smooth and warm skin shining with sweat.

“I’m always good.” He rasps, leaning his head to the side and presenting his neck to you.

You laugh softly, moving away to look into the depths of his ocean blue eyes. “Of course you are.” The smile he gives you makes your heart hammer in your ears.

Max opens his mouth to speak but falls silent as you continue to kiss along his collarbones, running your tongue and creating a path down over his chest, your soft lips making contact with his nipples.

He arches his back when you capture a nub between your teeth, hands grabbing the sheets because he knows he can’t touch you unless you allow him to. And he’s good. He wants to be good.

Max bites his bottom lip as you pinch his other nipple with your fingers. He’s having a hard time trying to stay still, his whole body shivers at your ministration.

“Always so sensitive.” You say, swiping your thumb over the pebbled flesh. Max only nods, his blushed face twisted in pleasure. “Such a good boy, uh?”

You lift your skirt up to straddle his hips, sitting just above his hard cock, still tucked away in his trousers.

“You did such a good job today.” You say, rocking your hips and planting your hands on his stomach. Max groans, shaking his head. “What was that?”

“It was,” He sighs, closing his eyes to try and regain some control over his body, but he’s sensitive and can feel your slick dripping over his clothed cock. “It was awful today.”

You tsk, nodding your approval. “It was.” His face falls for a moment, expression somber. “They don’t deserve you, not at all.” His eyes shine again, just like that. “You’re practically doing everything by yourself, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes.” His knuckles are white from gripping the sheets trying to follow your earlier instructions, so you take pity on him. Your touch is soft as you take his hands and place them on your waist, and Max doesn’t waste a second on gripping you so hard you know you’ll have bruises the size of his hands tomorrow. The mere thought of walking around with his bruises makes you clench around nothing.

“No one is doing it like you, Max.” You purr his name, and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Max lets out a low groan, hips thrusting up with force. He needs release. He needs you.

“Please.” He whispers, and you lower yourself to be at the same level, lips grazing his.

“What do you need?”

“Please,” He says again, almost whining. “Please.”

“You need to use your words. I don’t know what your please means, Max.” You pinch his nipple and he gasps, tilting his head.

His pupils are blown wide when he opens his eyes to look directly into yours. “I want – please I want you to ride me.” His voice breaks in a moan.

“See?” You cup his jaw, thumb caressing his bottom lip. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Max’s mind is blank except for thoughts of you. You on top of him. You taking care of him. You fucking him. You, you, you.

You use his chest for support as you help him get rid of his trousers and your skirt. Now, both of you are completely naked and Max can’t fight the moan that slips from his lips when he feels the heat of your cunt against his hard and leaking cock. It’s painful.

Max gazes down and his mouth waters. The thought of laying you down and claiming his favorite spot between your legs to taste you is almost enough to send him over the edge.

You trail your hand down his chest, not breaking eye contact, not wanting to miss any of his reactions. Like the way his entire face twist in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth hanging open, when you wrap your hand around his cock.

Max still has a little of self control but it’s exhausting, he doesn’t know how much he can actually take before reaching his limit and spilling his seed. And he doesn’t want to waste it. He wants to come inside of you, wants to fill you up and stay there. So he says it.

And you shudder in response. You’re soaking wet, so it’s enough to not need prep, even though Max is big and he loves to prep you for it; you want it to hurt today, you want to be sore and feel him all day.

You guide his cock with trembling hands, feeling the tip fighting its way into your cunt.

You place both hands on his chest as he grips your hips as his life depends on it. You sink down on him, adjusting and pressing down slowly. It is torture for Max, you see it in the way his jaw tenses and sweat coats in his forehead. But he doesn’t protest, he takes everything you give him in silence.

“You feel,” You gasp at the sensation of finally having him deep inside of you. Max tosses his head back when he feels you clench around him. “so,” He moans louder, bucking his hips into you as you start riding him, fingernails scrapping his skin. “good.”

You take him deeper every time you raise your hips, letting yourself fall down hard, your clit grinding against his skin and making you moan loudly.

Max is mesmerized by the view.

And Max really doesn’t know where to look. If your contorted face and mouth open, moans and praises falling from your lips mixing with the squelching sounds of your cunt. Or your breast bouncing with every move. Or the connection between your bodies, how his cock disappears inside of you over and over again, driving him closer to the edge.

“Fucking me so good,” You start babbling, and Max knows you’re close to your orgasm.

He pulls you down against him and starts thrusting into you with urgency. You tuck your head against his neck and sink your teeth into his skin, marking him. Claiming him.

His cock digs deep inside, the tip rubbing against that sensitive spot that makes you tremble and see stars behind your eyelids.

Max reaches his climax with loud moans and calls of your name. He fills you up and continues to fuck his seed into you until your whole body goes still and the whole world cease to exist except for you and him.

Max doesn’t pull out until he’s certain you’ve taken every last drop. It is only when it gets cold and you want to cuddle under the blankets that you move off him, his pout at not having your weight on top of him making you giggle.

“Did so good.” You whisper, not recognising your own broken voice. “My sweet boy.”

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[moonsaver]

Falling asleep on them (their shoulder, mostly)

Title is as it says lol. A small apology for not having neither the seraphim sunday out sooner nor the yan alphabet.

– contains; Sunday, Aventurine, Dr ratio and Boothill (separately) x gn!reader.

No reader warnings bc its just fluff with a hint of angst if you squint

Sunday

Pre AE sunday: it's rare for both of you to have quiet, private and intimate moments long enough for either of you to really relax, but when it happens, you must've also been dead tired the way you didn't even realise you were asleep until your head softly landed on his shoulder.

I imagine Sunday would like sitting on a sofa with you and just do his work silently beside you, sorting through his documents in quiet peace when it happens. When it does, his hands freeze for a moment, stopping mid-turn of a page when he feels the warmth of you on his shoulder.

He'd gently set his work aside for a moment and simply relish the feeling. He's too busy to really be there for the most part, but he's still nonetheless grateful youve always been there for him, and he feels guiltier the more he stares at your sleeping form. It's this mix of overwhelming love and guilt that eats at him – he wonders if he's really as good of a partner to you and if you would consider getting with someone else besides him that could possibly give you more–

-Aaand the thoughts stop, when your head slightly slumps more.

He sighs, and leans his head on yours aswell, finding and interlocking his fingers with yours. He settles to relish the moment.

AE Sunday: basically the same, except he doesn't overthink nor is he working. But rather, he's in one of the trio's rooms in the corner leaning on the destroyed pillow fort which was done so to make space for the Monopoly game they were playing. He smiles when it happens, closing his book and gently setting it aside, settling more into the pillows and gets cozier. He'll play a bit with your hair, press a kiss to your forehead, and whisper sweet nothings to you – he talks about visiting new worlds, his feelings so far, how he feels so lucky to experience all of this with you. He tries to cover your ears so you don't wake up from the boisterous energy from the trio playing a few ways away. Maybe they also join you two and make it an impromptu cuddle session turned into a joint napping session.

——

Aventurine

A bit shocked when it happens, and originally thinks you're not actually asleep when it does, teasing you a bit. But quickly shuts up when you don't respond like your usual bantering self, and tenses a bit at your silence. He leans over carefully to see your sleeping face – and only then does he really accept you're asleep.

He stays tense for a moment. The moment is a bit too dangerously vulnerable for him — rather, the amount of trust you'd have in someone to sleep on them, is something he's a bit overwhelmed by thinking of.

If you stay asleep long enough he'll eventually relax, and realise how tense he was for a while when his shoulders pain a bit from it. He'll just stay silent for a moment, his eyes would be distant and his thoughts would be incoherent, but eventually they all settle down into silence when your soft breathing grounds him to the presence.

He sighs, followed by a very soft chuckle, before he presses a small kiss to the crown of your forehead, and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

——

Boothill

If the smell of gunpowder and rust and blood doesn't deter you from sleeping on him, and neither does his hard body, then you're in good hands!

His arm would probably be lazily draped over you from behind the couch, while he taps a bit on his phone, trying to mute some of the annoying notifications from a bounty or something when he feels you shift. Only you don't move away – but rather move towards him.

He looks slightly up from his phone and to his side, realising you've fallen asleep. He carefully shifts a bit, pockets his phone, and adjusts your head so you're sleeping on the "softer" parts – like the scarf around his neck or his top, making sure you're not pressing up against any hard bodied, sharp parts on him. Maybe even takes his hat off and places it so that it blocks the light from your eyes.

After that's done, he smiles smugly, before picking up his phone again and switching to the camera.

If you've made it this far being asleep, I hope you can survive the flashbang of his phone as boothill curses his device to hell and back, forgotten to have switched off the flashlight.

——

Dr. Ratio

At first, he quirks an eyebrow when you lean your head on him, but it doesn't take long to figure out you've fallen asleep.

He's still– well, tries to stay annoyed. But he really can't. Something about you softens him so much he (almost but not really) hates it. He softly scoffs, before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and making sure your head is positioned properly, you won't drool on him, etc..

If you don't wake up to it, he'll talk to you a liiitle while you're asleep. It's just mundane things to him – what he's reading while you're asleep, what he plans to study next, an experiment or so he's interested in, etc.. all while his hand gently rubs up and down your arm to soothe you.

He's surprisingly comfortable to sleep on – if he doesn't have anywhere else to be. Even then, he's actually very gentle. He'd be huffy about it later, but it doesn't defeat the fact he picks you up carefully and places you somewhere safer to sleep and makes sure you're comfortable and safe before leaving.

Don't fall asleep while in the bath. He'll just wake you up and urge you to leave the instant he realises you're asleep.

——

[parkerluvsu]

ANGELEYES (virgin! art donaldson x fem! reader)

(my first halloween fic.. i don't have the energy to do kinktober <3)

art donaldson is a virgin. a big fat virgin. it's his biggest secret, the only person who knows about it is patrick, and he endlessly makes fun of him for it. it's hard living in the shadow of such a sex prodigy like him, patrick had been relaying stories of heavy makeout sessions and 7 minutes in heaven with random girls ever since middle school. art has been on a multitude of double dates with patrick, only for them to end with him and a girl sitting awkwardly next to him while patrick and his date messily makeout on the couch next to him.

of course art tried to mimic patrick, his smooth words and even smoother hands.. but never successfully. the longest he's ever had a girlfriend was only 5 months.. and she broke up with him on valentines day. this year was the first year he actually had a girlfriend on a semi-romantic holiday. or at least art thought it was, he remembers every year that couples in cute costumes walked by and made him want to cry. and even worse was the halloween parties, with drunk college students wearing stupid costumes and grinding on each other, leaving art to sip on a room temperature beer in the corner.

art was abruptly brought back to reality when you tapped on his shoulder, alerting him to the fact that he wasn't still in a stupid party, he was lodged in a costume store dressing room, holding on to the costumes you still wanted to try on. "what do you think?" you spin around, showing him the back of your cheesy tennis player costume. art chuckles, shaking his head, "i think it's offensive.." he jokes, of course you look cute but he can't stop himself from thinking that you'd never be able to move around a court in that stupid uniform. "hand me another one art.." he gives you the next costume, turning to face the wall while you change. "you know you can look.. right? im your girlfriend aren't i?" art blushes and he's thankful you can't see his face. "i- im just being respectful" he says, seeming genuinely concerned about offending you. you let the issue go as you zip up the costume, tapping art on the shoulder.

when you got home, you set down your costume and turned to art. "so now what are you gonna be? we should match right?" he nods shyly, not exactly knowing how to enter this unfamiliar territory. "i guess you could be a devil too and then we could match.." you look at art for inspiration, and settle on his baby blue eyes, biting your lip before getting an idea. "oh i know! you should be an angel! it'll be great!" you say, already envisioning art in a pretty white costume. art blushes, "isn't that.. like a girl costume?" he doesn't mean to offend you and it's not like he hates the idea but.. he doesn't want to embarrass himself. "no not at all! cmon art it'll be so cute.. you'll be my little angel!" you almost squeal, immediately taking out your phone to look for costumes. art nods slowly.. realizing that he doesn't really care what he dresses up as.. as long as he's yours.

art almost drops the costumes he's holding when he sees the little red skirt, tank top and horns you have on, accompanied by a pair of fluffy wings on your back. "what d'you think? it kind of looks silly don't you think?" you turn back to face art. he shakes his head silently, his eyes wide, looking you up and down. you giggle, "guess we have a winner then!". you leave the store that day with a devil costume in a bag, and art leaves with a tent in his pants.

art has never considered himself religious. he was raised to go to sunday school and church and all those other fun events, but he never believed any of it. so why did he feel so guilty when he got hot and heavy seeing you in that costume? maybe it was the fact that he was always reprimanded as a child for liking things that he shouldn't.. playing with dolls, stealing his moms clothes... and maybe even looking a little too long at girls from church. now he still felt like he could get caught any moment doing something he wasn't supposed to, even though he wasn't in that environment anymore.

you're putting on lip gloss, using your phone for a mirror when art pops out of the bathroom, having a little trouble getting the fake wings to fit though the doorframe. you put your things down, standing up to meet him, "oh art.. you look so good.. this costume is perfect for you, don't you think?" you say, looking him up and down. art blushes, trying to avoid your gaze "i- i guess so.." he says, trying to downplay the fact that he likes the costume so much. you pick up on his tone, and decide to speak up. "what? you don't like it?" he shakes his head quickly, "no.. no that's not it.. it's like the opposite.. maybe i like it a little too much" he looks away, shifting from foot to foot. you smile knowingly, not surprised that he feels this way. art let's you guide him to sit on the edge of your bed. "well, why do you like it so much?" you ask, wanting to see if he'll be honest.

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・

when halloween night finally comes around, art finds himself staring in the mirror, tugging at the tight white t-shirt that came with his costume, shifting his back and shoulders to re-adjust the wings sitting heavy on his back. god.. what's patrick gonna think about this? he's probably gonna be made fun of relentlessly.. but there's a feeling in the bottom of his stomach when he looks at himself.. he can't deny that he likes what he sees. he's just nervous for you to see him too, what if you laugh? what if you think he looks silly? what if you make fun of him? all these thoughts swirl around in his head as he leaves your bathroom, stepping into your bedroom as you look up from your phone.

art mulls that over in his head, pretty.. did he feel pretty? was he pretty? he's a boy isn't he.. was he even allowed to be pretty? even with all these thoughts swirling in his head he knows the foundational truth: he likes when he say that, he likes when you call him pretty. you bring art back to reality by kissing him softly, leaning closer to him. arts tentative hands grab hold of your waist, squeezing tight when you slip your tongue into his mouth. "won't you let me take care of you art?" he nods, knowing that you saw the bulge in his pants the moment he stepped out of the bathroom.

you run your hands over arts warm skin, swinging your leg over his lap in order to straddle him. "we'll go slow, alright? don't be scared" you whisper, pressing your lips to his once again. art whines against you, his hips jerking under you even with the simple makeout session. art finds it easy to let you take the lead, you always do, in every facet of your relationship, and art likes to just turn his brain off when he's with you. he lets you run your fingers through his hair, pulling off the silly halo headband while you do. art shivers when you make your way down to his neck, sharp canine teeth poking and pulling at his skin. you pull at the hem of arts shirt, "can i take this off?" you ask, waiting for a nod before pulling it off of him, pressing your lips on his again and raking your nails down his chest, almost making him curl up on himself.

you were so warm inside, hot even, he could feel your every move from the inside, every ridge and squishy spot made him take a shuddering breath. you try to lift up again to establish a rhythm, but arts hands keep you still, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. after a few seconds, he takes his hands away, letting you start to bounce gently. his moans and whines become almost screams, "k-keep goingg please.." "y'r so warm 'nside" "never wanna stop.. wanna do this f-forever" he feels himself approaching his peak far too quick, but he cant stop, he couldn't even if he wanted to, he needs you to keep going, he needs you to touch him, he needs you to love him. you can feel art start to move his hips with you, planting his feet on the mattress and pushing up, slamming into you with the last of his strength before his whole body goes taut, shaking and shivering before you feel him cum inside you, even through the condom.

you kiss some more, before you pull away to take a breath and look at him. arts pretty pink cheeks and white wings contrast perfectly, only making your heart beat faster. "do you wanna see me?" you gesture to your chest, covered by a skimpy red tank top. art nods very quickly, almost getting dizzy. "y-yeah, yes please" he says, watching with stars in his eyes as you strip off your shirt, exposing your chest to him. art almost gasps when you take hold of his hands and place them on your boobs, letting him experiment and touch and squeeze to his hearts content, you want to giggle at his facial expressions but you don't want to make him self conscious. "c-can we keep going?" he asks, hands still on your breasts. you smile and laugh, nodding. "alright art.. can you take off your pants for me?" art almost thinks his heart stops when you ask him to do that, still getting it through his head to nod slowly. he shuffles them down his legs, his blue boxers already a little stained from the precum leaking from the makeout sessions. you shift closer to him, sitting between his spread legs. "ill be gentle okay?" you start slow, running your fingers softly over his bulge, smiling when you feel him twitch under your touch. tapping his hip to signal him to lift his hips up, art complies, suddenly feeling self conscious at the fact that no one has ever seen him like this before.. he doesn't even know what he's supposed to do, or say. you notice this of course, placing your palm on his hip, "you're doing great art" he visibly relaxes at your touch, sinking into your bed. he lets you touch him softly again, with no barrier this time, he's softer than you thought, his pretty pink head already drooling, the pronounced veins on the sides pulsing. you wish you could take a polaroid of this moment, the look of his innocent white wings contrasting from the very lewd image in front of you. art slaps a hand over his mouth, his brows furrowed, he's never had anyone else touch him here, your hand feels so much different than his own, so much softer and warmer. art has to concentrate his best on not cumming immediately, the sensation of your hand jerking him off becoming overwhelming. he has to reach down and push your hand away before he cums, wanting to save the best part for later. "i-im sorry i didn't wanna.. cum" he says, his face flushed red. you smile, understanding his predicament. "it's okay, i did the same my first time too.. do you have a condom?" art nods quickly, opening up a packet of condoms he bought a little prematurely maybe.. but he wanted to be prepared no matter what happened. art had taken a sex ed class before, but putting a condom on himself versus a banana were very different, so you had to help him roll it down his length. art does nothing but watch you throw your panties to the side, again climbing into his lap. "like i said, we'll go slow, tell me if you don't like how it feels yeah?" art agrees, placing his large hands on your hips in an attempt to prepare, but nothing could prepare him for this.

you move your hips slowly to let him cool off, before slipping off of him and settling down beside him. you take off the condom for him, cum dripping onto his stomach before you can throw it away. you place your head on arts chest, unable to resist dipping your finger into the drops of cum on his stomach, the translucent liquid almost glowing on his pale skin. you can't help the word that escapes your mouth, "angel..." you whisper against his skin, not thinking he's back to his senses yet. art perks up a little, hoping he heard what he thought he heard, "w-what?" "nothing" <3

art sighs, not even knowing why he likes it so much. "i dunno, i guess i feel.. nice in it.. like it's natural?" you nod along with his words, encouraging him to keep talking. "like when i put it on, it kind of made me get butterflies.." you nod, seeing where this was going. "you thought you looked pretty yeah? i mean i always say you look like an angel, this just proves my point" you remark, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. "yeah.. well you're right as always.."

[amaranthineghost]

NOW IM BACK IN OUR EMPTY APARTMENT, LOOKING AT THE PIECES I WISH WERE YOU ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

an imperfect relationship between world champion max verstappen and a busy college student now filled with more tension as he fails to hold his tongue after a disappointing race.

authors note: love writing for max, i might have to do it more!!!

HE DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. it snowballed into something he had imagined before but never would've expected it actually happening to him. he could normally control his temper, especially when it came to her. sure, there was a few moments that stood out in his career when he had gone over the limit on certain occasions, going as far as to push another driver, but he would always separate his home life and his career.

at least he would try to. the australian grand prix hadn't played out like he had wanted, or anyone for that matter, because no one wants their car to get fucked and have to retire. especially on the third lap, it was just embarrassing. he was struggling the entire weekend, though his spirits temporarily lifted when he had managed to get pole position. he knew he would, but after the struggles throughout the practice sessions, he hadn't been too sure.

he just wished she would've been there to see it, but she was stuck in their apartment with their cats, jimmy and sassy. she had to do her college work, that was due all too soon, before she could go running around to his races. despite being financially supported by her talented boyfriend, she wanted things to do when he wasn't around, and while school work wasn't exactly many people's cup of tea, it was hers.

she liked the possibilities that came with the experience and maybe one day, she could land a job that would put her in line with her beloved driver. sure, she loved visiting the paddock as a wag, but she would love it more from behind the scenes. of course dating a driver, she already gets to see more than the average person, but she wanted to do something worthwhile with her time in the paddock.

he understood, but he had the only condition of letting him pay for her schooling. debt wasn't fun, and he wouldn't let her fall into that burden. besides, max would love to be able to see his girl working hard in the paddock, but now he wasn‘t so sure if she was his anymore.

he was agitated, she was stressed, and they both knew they didn't mix. they should’ve just waited to see each other in person, but they were both missing each other at the time.

she watched the race on the tv in their bedroom with her laptop on her lap with her latest, big assignment due in the next few days. she was struggling, and she figured it was better to get as much time to work on it as possible so she opted out of flying to australia. still, she watched, hardly stressed, because she knew max was an amazing driver.

but come the race on sunday, his dnf shocked her. she was riddled with worry and part of her wished she had been there. maybe if she had been, this whole thing could’ve been avoided, but the stress she felt now would’ve only worsened had she been with him.

upon the smoke trailing out of his car, hearing the commentators say he had dropped positions, seeing the puff of smoke when his car rolled down the pit lane, the fire on his brake duct, she shut her laptop instantly. now she was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing the screen closely, phone on standby to call him after. she leaned her head on her hands while her elbows dug into her legs.

she watched his tense answers to the media, his uninterested attitude because she knew all he wanted to do was get to his driver's room for peace and sulking. she knew and yet she still made the mistake of calling him right after.

she hadn’t waited long for him to answer, but he didn’t answer right away. hearing no answer from his side of the phone, she spoke first.

“hey,” she spoke as gently and nicely as she could.

“hey.” his voice was short and straightforward, as if he didn’t care about anything she was going to say.

finding the right words to say was like walking on eggshells and there wasn't a lot of room to go. she just hoped she took a step in the right direction when she asked him, “how are you doing?”

“what do you think?” she sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek

“not great,” she muttered, he hummed back in response, which just made her even more unsure of her next words, “ ‘m sorry you has to retire from the race.”

“sorry doesn’t fix the car,” she heard him mumble under his breath, earning a scoff from her.

“excuse me?” her tone was like she had accused him of something, “i get you’re mad right now max, but that doesn’t mean you can be an asshole. i’m just trying to help.”

he scoffed back and she could feel the eye roll he would’ve given her, “yeah, well you're not.”

“what is wrong with you?” she stood up, anger coursing through her.

“i don’t know, maybe the fact that my race was fucked and now you’re bitching to me about my attitude.”

she hadn’t thought before speaking, in moments of high stress she just said whatever she felt, and so did he. what she felt right now was annoyance and anger, “fuck you max,” was all she could spit back, taking a deep breath being speaking again. “news flash, you’re not the only person in the world dealing with shit, it's one race that you got out on, grow up.”

with that she hung up, and he heard the dial tone from his phone, regret beginning to seep past his clothes and into his skin, his nerves, his brain. he just majorly fucked up the most important thing in his life because to him she was more important than his career points, the car, the championship, his entire career, and he just threw her aside in the height of his anger.

he tried calling back immediately after he realized what he had just done, but it had just gone straight to voicemail. when that all failed, he spammed texts, or paragraphs more like, about how sorry he was and how she didn’t deserve the attitude he gave her, but it did nothing.

she sat and watched as the texts and missed calls flooded in. while she understood he was angry, it didn’t give him the right to talk to her like that so she left her phone unanswered while she had gotten up to pack. in less than a few hours, she knew max would be back in this apartment, probably on his knees, begging for forgiveness from her. she knew she would forgive him the moment he did so she wanted to get away before he could.

it didn’t take long, she hadn’t packed her entire life away, but a single suitcase and carry-on bag was enough to last her until she decided to patch things over. taking one last look over her shoulder, one last pet of their cats before she had closed the door behind her. knocking on the apartment door of their neighbors to ask them to care for the felines like they did whenever he left for races and she went alongside him.

but in recent months, moreso in the 2023 season, she found herself attending fewer races than she used to because of the growing tension and stress between the pair. it didn't help that they didn't talk it through, they couldn't because they didn't have the time. she had college, he had formula one, and they both had no time to meet in the middle to amend whatever was broken before. whatever was broken remained as such and only cracked further as time went on and the pressure increased.

they knew they should've come together and met in the middle, but they were both petty and too stubborn. it was another reason they clashed, but they also just worked so well.

he was hoping this was going to be the one time they could've found that time to talk, to sit down and have a deep conversation that lasted hours, that they would've ended up getting side-tracked from and begun to talk about random topics, like they used to. laying on her back with her head in his lap and his fingers through her hair as they laughed at funny memories, or moments they had experienced together.

but when he came home to a quiet, empty apartment, he knew. he knew he shouldn't have hoped for something that was unlikely to happen. his cats rubbed against his legs as he walked about the apartment. dirty dishes that had yet to be washed sitting in the sink, blankets unfolded in the couch and doors left open. the air was stale without her presence and he was left to wallow in it. her absence was a sting against his skin as he kicked off his shoes, seeing a couple pairs less than what there usually was, hanging up his coat alone because hers were now gone.

everything was a reminder if how he had treated her, the words he spat like venom all because he had retired from a single race. he can't stop hearing her venomous last words to him, her tone was like he was the scum on the bottom of her shoe. he might’ve well have been because he sure felt like he was. a piece of trash for the way he spoke, granted he was angry, but he didn't have the right, he never would have the right to talk to her like that.

the floorboards creaked under him, cutting through the silence only interrupted by the sounds of his clothes brushing together as he walked. he peered into the various rooms of the house, seeing half the items she would normally have that had been left behind. pieces of her he was left to further sulk with.

it was cruel, but he understood cruel was what he deserved. he deserved seeing the messy, unmade bed that remained empty for hours after she left. covers pulled back like she had just gotten up to see him, except she hadn't.

she was gone, and he hadn't known where, or if she would even come back. he could only hope that she wished to mend their cracked and shattered relationship as much as he wanted now.

he could only hope.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[doumadono]

Katsuki and Reader as Academic rivals/enemies during their college years but is actually messing around behind close doors. For sinful sunday!!<3

Warnings: smut w/o plot, smut, cunnilingus, fem!reader, rough oral (f receiving), fingering, pro hero Bakugo

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA & MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

"You're late," Bakugo growls, his voice edged with impatience as he glares at you from the doorway.

You smirk, brushing past him. "Didn't know the great Dynamight had a bedtime like a preschooler."

"Shut up," he snaps as he closes the door behind you. "You know I don't like waiting."

"And yet here we are," you retort, throwing your bag on his couch with a casual toss. 

The apartment is spacious, minimalist in its decor, with a few hints of Bakugo's personality — trophies from his hero work, a stack of fitness magazines, and a well-worn punching bag in the corner.

"Still can't believe we're doing this," he mutters, following you into the living room.

"Which part?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "The studying, or the fact that we're doing it together?"

Bakugo's scowl deepens. "Both."

You laugh, settling into the couch and pulling out your notes. "Just like old times, huh? Except now we're not stuck in that cramped library."

He huffs, flopping down beside you. "Yeah, but you still haven't gotten any less annoying."

"And you haven't gotten any less competitive," you shoot back, your eyes meeting his. There's a spark there, the same one that always flared when the two of you clashed in college. 

You and Bakugo had been academic rivals since your first year at UA High School. Both fiercely competitive and driven, you clashed in every class, constantly trying to outdo each other in hero training exercises and exams. The rivalry continued into college, where you found yourselves in the same courses, your mutual determination pushing you to excel. 

Despite the animosity, there was an undeniable chemistry between you, a spark that neither of you acknowledged but both felt deeply. 

Now, years later, with Bakugo as a top Pro Hero and you excelling in your own career, the competitive fire still burns. Especially when the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight fails yet another mandatory training session assigned to him by the Hero Commission.

Bakugo grabs a stack of papers, his fingers brushing against yours accidentally. 

The contact sends a jolt through you, and you pull back, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

"So, where were we?" he asks, his voice a little rougher.

"Here," you say, pointing to a highlighted section. "The analysis of hero efficiency metrics. You were going to show me how you applied it to your latest mission."

He nods, leaning closer. The heat from his body is distracting, and you find it hard to concentrate as he explains the data. His voice is low, the words rolling over you as you watch the way his lips move, the intensity in his eyes.

"...and that's how I optimized the response time," he finishes, looking up at you expectantly.

You blink, realizing you've barely absorbed a word. "Right. Makes sense."

He narrows his eyes. "You're not even listening, are ya, Y/N?"

"I am!" you protest, but he doesn't buy it.

"Prove it," he challenges, leaning even closer. "Explain it back to me."

Your mind races, trying to piece together what he said, but all you can think about is how close he is, the smell of his cologne, the way his breath brushes against your skin. "I, um..."

His smirk is infuriating. "Thought so, smartass."

"You're impossible," you mutter, but there's no heat in your words.

"And you're distracted," he counters. "Wonder why that is."

You glare at him, but he's right. "Maybe it's because you're in my personal space," you say, but even as you say it, you don't move away.

"Maybe you like it," he shoots back, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you close the gap, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that's more a battle than a caress. It's messy, desperate, and full of the same fire that always ignited when you were around each other.

Bakugo responds instantly, his hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss. The taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours, it's everything you've been denying yourself for years. 

You break apart, both of you breathing hard. "This doesn't change anything," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have…”

He smirks, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips. "No, it doesn't. But it sure as hell makes things more interesting."

You laugh, a breathless sound that turns into a moan as he captures your mouth again. 

This time, there's no hesitation, no holding back. The kiss is fierce, and you can feel the same hunger in him that burns in you.

Bakugo pulls you onto his lap, his hands roaming your back as he presses you closer. The feel of his hard muscles against you, the heat of his skin, it's all intoxicating. 

You grind against him, eliciting a low growl from his throat.

"God, you're so fucking impatient," he mutters against your lips, but his hands are gentle as they slip under your shirt, exploring the skin beneath.

"You love it," you tease, arching into his touch.

"Maybe I do," he admits, his voice rough with desire. "But don't think this means you've won."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you reply, your hands busy unbuttoning his shirt. 

His shirt comes off in a tangle of limbs and fabric, neither of you willing to break the kiss for more than a few seconds.  

You trail kisses down his neck, savoring the way he shudders beneath you.

Bakugo flips you onto your back, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks down at you. "You're still a pain in my ass," he growls. His body presses you into the mattress, the weight of him a delicious reminder of his strength and power. 

You feel his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher until he pulls it over your head and tosses it aside. His mouth is on you instantly, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and to the swell of your breasts.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. 

You arch into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair as you hold him close. 

He groans in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently.

You can feel yourself growing wetter.

"Fuck," he mutters, releasing your nipple with a wet pop and moving to the other one. His free hand roams lower, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your hip, until he reaches the waistband of your pants. With a rough tug, he pulls them down.

“Bakugo,” you basically growl at him, demanding his attention.

"Patience," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Good things come to those who wait."

But you're beyond waiting. You need him now. You reach down and grab his hand, guiding it to where you're aching for him - right between the thighs you willingly part just for him.

Bakugo's fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties, watching as your eyes flutter closed in pleasure. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he knows you want him just as badly as he wants you.

"Do you like that, baby?" he growls in your ear, his voice low and husky.

You nod, biting your lip as he continues to rub you through the thin fabric. You’re so wet already, he can feel it seeping through your panties and onto his fingers.

Bakugo grins, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down your parted legs. 

You lift your hips to help him, and soon you’re lying naked before him.

He takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out on the couch like a feast. Your skin is soft and smooth, your breasts are full and round, and your pussy is glistening with wetness, just for him.

His fingers slip inside you easily. You’re oh so tight, he can feel your muscles clenching around his digits as he moves them in and out. "Fuck, you feel so good," he praises, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles.

"Fuck," you breathe, your hips bucking involuntarily. "Yes, just like that."

Bakugo's fingers curl inside you, hitting all the right spots. 

You can feel yourself already getting closer, your body tensing with each stroke. And then, just as you think you can't take it any longer, he stops.

You whimper in protest, but he just smirks. 

"Not yet," he says. "I want to taste you first."

Before you can react, he's sliding down your body, his mouth hot and wet on your inner thigh. 

You moan as he kisses and licks his way closer to your mound, your whole body trembling with anticipation.

And then, finally, his tongue is on your clit, teasing and flicking in a way that makes your whole body shudder. You can hear the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the slick slide of his tongue. It's obscene and you can't get enough of it. You buck your hips, grinding against his face as he devours you.

"Oh god, Bakugo," you moan, your voice hoarse. "I'm going to come."

He just hums in response, his tongue working harder, faster. He uses his thumb to roll your clitty in a circle, pushing the upper portion of your outer lips aside. As Bakugo plays with your little, swollen pearl, your lower lips begin to glisten, then open, and after a longer moment of playing while your breathing quickens, a thin string of crystalized dew falls from your juicy pink slit.

“Just like that, just like that!” you are a moaning mess beneath him.

“Holy fucking shit,” he growls lowly, watching your body writhe, feeling the intense strain as his sweatpants become painfully tight. Bakugo doesn't stop, though. He keeps licking and sucking. He licks up through your soft folds like a dog, lapping at your cunny juices as if his life depends on it. He then curls and straightens his calloused fingers several times, petting the underside of your mound from within. “Cum for me, I wanna see you cumming hard for me,” Bakugo commands.

Your clit throbs in his mouth as he sucks the little pearl in, finger-fucking your slick, drenched pussy.

A high pitched whimper cuts off your words. Your stomach heaves, your ass shakes, and you feed Bakugo your muff with a sexy, up and down grinding motion that runs your pussy all over his slightly unshaven face. You tighten your grip on his ash-blonde hair and pull him against your pussy, mashing your clit between his tongue and your own pubic bone.

Finally, Katsuki pulls away, his face glistening with your juices.

"Fuck," you breathe, still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm. "That was incredible."

Bakugo just grins, clearly pleased with himself. "You're welcome," he says. Bakugo licks and kisses his way up your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply before pulling back. "You know this doesn't mean I'm ever going to go easy on you," he says, grinding his crotch against your slick folds.

The unmistakable hardness pressing against you is making you acutely aware of how hard he is — how hard you've made him just with your moans and pussy.

You wrap your arms around his neck. "Yeah, I know. But quit this shit now and fuck me like I know you've always wanted to."

[mattyriddlesbitch]

I’m unsure if u still do headcanon Sundays but if not, feel free to delete this request. I just saw headcanons for experienced!Mattheo x inexperienced!fem!reader, but I raise you headcanons where the reader is experienced and Mattheo is inexperienced.

I am so sorry this took so long to write. I have had so much shit happening the past month and I kept forgetting about this. I gotchu now tho.

Okay, I wholeheartedly believe that he would act so cocky and like he doesn't need help, but the second he's got you naked, he's so lost. Where does he touch you? Where shouldn't he touch you? How should he touch you?

He's coming in all cocky and kissing you, starting out with a heated make out session. He's made out before, so this wasn't too bad. Pretty easy. He knows how to touch you like this. Grabbing your hair, groping your breasts and thighs and everywhere. But that was always when you were dressed.

Now that you were naked in front of him, lying all pretty on his bed, he's staring, clutching at your panties he just took off like he was frozen. You giggling finally brings him out of his daze and he's blushing so hard.

He's so nervous, you make him lay down and blow him to get him to relax more and just get into it.

This man is so horny and worked up, he nearly came in like a minute and has to push you off because he will NOT cum without fucking you first.

Will not let you get on top either. He's already embarrassed, he wants to leave with some shred of dignity. As soon as he's fully buried in you, he has to stop to collect himself. Once you get adjusted to him, you tell him he can move and he's shaking his head, just like "I'm gonna cum if I do that, hold on."

He finally moves and he's going so slow so he doesn't cum and also because your moans are like heaven and he's trying to commit everything to memory, the feel of you around him, the sounds you make, yeah, that's going in his spank bank.

You know he's barely holding on by a thread, but you know he wants to make you cum. You have to tell him it's okay and reassure him that he can cum. And the second those words leave your mouth, he's cumming. He'll lay beside you afterwards and ask how he did. Asks how he can make you cum.

Actually so desperate to make you cum, even if he can't go again that he'll let you guide him in fingering you, eating you out, or even using a toy, whatever helps you cum. He wants to learn how.

After he gets you to cum, he's cuddling you, asking for reassurance he did good. He's not letting you go either, keeping you in his arms as long as he can.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3

Let me know if you wanna be added!

Post

[baepsays]

INTRODUCTION ⸻ being together with stoner!suguru

☽⋆.˚ WASTED AND ABSORBED⸺01

saw something about stoner suguru mention so let me draw a picture here using my own two cents Cw: usage of weed, cigarettes, no pronouns but fem oriented reader, mentions of NSFW stuff, mdni

stoner!suguru who at first was very opposed to the concept of weed, he used to be one of those cigarettes and cigars and whatnot over weed type of snob. then he met his partner who on surface level doesn't look like it but gets high on almost daily.

first time he tries weed with his partner he gets really giggly and touchy and it wasn't that long into your relationship so you guys hadn't even said I love you's yet, but poor thing high off his ass off of only 2 puffs from a single joint, just blurts out how much he's down right pathetically in love with you that he's willing to even try weed for you.

this turns into a heavy make out session with you just at first kissing softly, sitting beside eachother, passing the same blunt—to tangling your fingers in his loose locks and getting on top of him, barely hovering over his lap, one of his hands on your ass the other pulling you somehow closer and deeper by your throat. eventually he just pulls your ass (literally) on his lap, the hand on the ass now groping and kneading, another roams around your waist until it goes up your shirt and just starts rubbing circles around your back.

and when you think oh i know where this is going ~ well, he passes out then and there on the floor of the balcony where you guys were smoking, with a huge grin on his face and his hair a mess, sprawled around his head.

Next day he barely remembered anything and said oh well he wouldn't want to do that again (even if it felt really good). but still gets high with you when he comes over to your place that week and again just confesses his undying love for you with a dopey grin and rips his hair tie off his hair then throws it away from the balcony. his reason being that he'd rather have you keep his hair in place by pulling on it. and starts talking about this new kind of tea he found which reminds him of your perfume and how he is actually always thinking about how he wants to just bite you and leave marks all over when he's sometimes spacing off and you ask him what was he thinking about so hard. more than half of the time it's about wanting to bite you.

he didn't know he already said I love you to you while he was high, and how he always starts yapping way more than what he normally does, breaking his cool mysterious guy persona. someone might even say Satoru has definitely rubbed off on him the way he starts talking about anything and everything, especially related to you maybe even a miniscule detail. when he is high, he usually starts with "you know. I am so disgustingly in love with you. it's insane." after silently exchanging a joint with you and letting the weed get to him. so when you found out accidentally one of these days where he got high and told you about his elaborate plan for a date that Sunday to finally tell you that he loves you, all you did was smile and nod. you told him a month after that date that he actually told you 'I love you' the very first time you guys got high together.

safe to say suguru is a changed man who loves getting high with his partner on their balconies on weekends or on nights after a particularly shitty day where all he needs is to get his mind to shut up and just look at his partner, kiss them silly and touch them all over.

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources

SERIES MASTERLIST | next>

To check out more of my stuff click this.

[billa-billa007]

TRY HARD COMBO| V7-V10 | Boulder Projecting | Indoor Climbing

Indoor climbing, also known as indoor rock climbing or indoor bouldering, is a popular recreational and sport activity that involves ascending artificial climbing walls or structures using a combination of physical strength, technique, and problem-solving skills. It provides a safe and controlled environment for climbers to practice and develop their skills without the risks associated with outdoor rock climbing.

[ataliagold]

you told me once that i'm selfish (and i kissed you hard, in the dark)

For @astrangersummer week 4 prompt 'outside'. Title from Letter to an Old Poet by boygenius.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1430

Tags: Established Steddie, minor angst, fluff, hand-holding, Steve just wants to go hiking but Eddie's not keen on the idea, until he is, despite a minor argument these boys are so soft for each other, slightly selfish Eddie but he apologizes, Eddie gets a cool stick

Summary: Steve is used to spending time doing what Eddie wants to do. On a hot summer afternoon, the tables are turned when Steve asks Eddie to go hiking with him and Eddie is...not so thrilled about it.

___

“A hike?”

“Yup.”

“You want to go…hiking?”

“Uh huh.”

“You want me to go hiking with you?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“…I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we could do…something else. Go to the arcade! Catch a movie, get drunk by your pool…I can come up with many alternatives to hiking, big boy.”

“I want to go, it’s one I used to do often years ago. It’ll be fun, just try it. It’s summer, we should get outdoors, enjoy the sun.”

“I’m not really an outdoors kinda guy, Steve. I thought you knew that by now.”

Steve’s shoulders had slumped a little at that. He’d watched as Eddie screwed up his nose at Steve’s suggestion, as he shook his head vehemently, as he rolled his eyes a little at Steve’s insistence that it would be a nice way to spend their Sunday.

Eddie didn’t want to go. That was ok; Steve wouldn’t make him. It had been stupid to even ask him in the first place, he supposed – Eddie was right, it really wasn’t his sort of thing.

Except…Steve had spent long evenings watching Eddie and the kids playing their campaigns, had listened as best he could as Eddie rattled off ideas and suggestions to him for the next D&D session, had sat through the frankly terrible horror movies that Eddie was rapt with, always let him play his music in the car, shrugged it off good-naturedly when Eddie complained about his taste in music…

Steve been hoping maybe Eddie would try something that he enjoyed, just for a day.

He knew Eddie hated sport and practically any form of intentional exercise; hell, his boyfriend reminded him of that frequently, grumbling when Steve and Wayne were glued to a game on TV or when Steve was busy shooting hoops with Lucas. Usually, Steve didn’t care – he knew they had different interests, loved Eddie enough that it didn’t matter.

But sometimes, Eddie’s jibes about him being a jock or a philistine or uncultured just…stung a little, especially considering Steve never bit back with his own insults, had left those days long behind him.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve mumbled eventually. “I’ll just…I’ll ask Lucas or something.”

Eddie shook his head. “He’s at Mike’s this weekend.”

“Oh. Well…never mind, then.”

Eddie sat up, grabbing for Steve’s hand. Steve let him take it, but with little enthusiasm.

“We can do something else, though,” Eddie said brightly. “Wanna rent a couple of movies, get high? I’ve still got some of Argyle’s stuff left, we could…Steve?”

Steve’s hand had gone weak in Eddie’s, his gaze drifting downwards. “Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie shuffled closer, tilted his head to try and catch Steve’s eye. “Steeeeevie,” he hummed.

“What?” Steve said, snapping a little.

Eddie recoiled slightly. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Steve snatched his hand back, pushing off Eddie’s couch to stand up. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m gonna go for this hike, I’ll see you later.”

Eddie frowned, hopping up to block Steve’s path. “On your own?” he questioned.

“Well, you clearly don’t want to go, so…”

Eddie’s face softened. “Steve -”

“No, it’s fine. You hate the outdoors, you hate exercise, you hate…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie reached out, traced a hand across Steve’s cheek. “What, sweetheart?”

Steve sucked in a breath. “You hate everything I like,” he mumbled, not meeting Eddie’s eye.

Eddie’s eyes widened, realization crossing his face. “Stevie…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to go so badly. Let me just…I’ll get changed, and we’ll go, ok?”

“No, you don’t want to.”

“I do.”

Steve scoffed. “You don’t.”

Eddie nodded slightly, chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t want to,” he admitted eventually. “But…you do things you don’t want to do for me all the time, and I know I’m not…as good at doing that as you are. So, the afternoon is yours. You want to hike? We’ll hike. I can’t promise I won’t pass out halfway, but I’ll be there.”

Steve gave him a long look. “You’re sure? And you won’t complain?”

“Well…maybe a little.”

Steve rolled his eyes, waving a hand in frustration.

“Ok!” Eddie back-peddled. “Ok, I won’t. Just…I have one request.”

“What?”

“I want to carry a cool stick.”

*****

Eddie got his stick.

Steve led them on the wooded path that branched off from Lover’s Lake, that looped its way slowly up a hill to a lookout spot over the forest. Eddie traipsed along behind him, swatting at invisible orcs with his stick, occasionally skipping off to one side to pick up and present Steve with various stones and small rocks he found along the way, the ones he deemed pretty enough to gift to him.

Halfway up, despite sweating and breathing a little harder than he should be, (smoker’s lungs, he’d given Steve as an excuse) Eddie seemed to putting in a lot of effort for Steve.

“This is…kinda cool,” he admitted.

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

Eddie nodded, whacked at a bush with his stick and grinned. “Yeah. At least it’s shady here too, it’s not so fucking hot.”

Steve smiled. “Told ya. Wait till we get to the top, too. I think you’ll like the view.”

“About that…how much steeper does it get?”

A short time later, and only one little moan from Eddie about the hill, and they broke through the trees and onto a rocky outcrop with a little bench seat. The trees sprawled out below them, shades of brown and burnt orange, Hawkins nestled off to one side.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed, bent over next to Steve with his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

Steve, not puffed in the least, nodded in agreement. “It’s nice, huh?”

“It’s like…Lothlorien.”

“…sure,” Steve offered, having no idea what his boyfriend was talking about.

Eddie slumped down on the bench seat, fingers tracing over the initials carved everywhere into the old wood.

“You on here, Stevie?” he asked.

Steve nodded, dropping to his knees and searching the edge of the seat for a moment. There, etched permanently into the wood, were the weathered initials S.H.

“Here,” he said.

Eddie smiled, touched his fingers to the marks. Quietly, he scratched his own into the wood with a sharp stick, right next to Steve’s initials.

“Looks good,” Steve observed.

Eddie looked up at him, took his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…not taking enough interest in the things you like.”

Steve sighed, sat down beside him. “You don’t have to, Eds. I know you don’t like a lot of the things I do, it’s -”

“Don’t say it’s ok,” Eddie interrupted, holding his hand tighter. “I mean, maybe I don’t like sport and stuff. But you don’t like D&D, and I know you hate horror movies, but you don’t complain about it, and you always come along even if you don’t enjoy something.”

“I…I like spending time with you,” Steve said quietly.

“I know, and I love you for it.” Eddie’s free hand gripped the edge of the seat. “And…and I like spending time with you too, and I want to be able to do some things that you enjoy too, it’s only fair.”

“Well…did you enjoy this?” Steve asked, almost shyly.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, actually. Nearly had a heart attack near the top there, but aside from that…” he grinned as he pulled a small laugh from Steve. “I’d like to go again. Wherever you want to go, I’ll be there.”

“I’d like that, Eds.”

“Good.” Eddie dug around in his pocket for a moment, producing a smooth black stone and plopping it into Steve’s hand. “For you,” he said, smiling when Steve turned it over in his fingers.

“It’s cool, Eds. Thanks.”

Eddie’s smile was wider than the sun.

He leant in, kissed Steve long and slow under the fading July sun.

By the time they reached the car again, Steve’s pockets were laden with little stones that had caught Eddie’s eye along the path. Despite them weighing down his shorts, he couldn’t bear to toss any of them away – he’d find somewhere to put them in their room.

As Steve started the beamer, he was surprised to see Eddie eject the Metallica tape in the player and replace it with Steve’s well-loved Tears for Fears one.

He threw a surprised look at Eddie, who shrugged in return.

“It’s well overdue for your turn, sweetheart,” he murmured softly.

As the familiar notes of Head Over Heels spilled over them, Steve reached for Eddie’s hand.

He didn’t let go the whole way home.

___

[beababoobies]

hello i saw your request post and requesting is my full time job atp this is a basic one but size and breeding kink with toji, sukuna, + anyone else you wanna include :)

I always find breeding kink requests with Toji so funny bc his ass is NOT no baby daddy🙅🙅🙅🙅🙅 

𝜗𝜚TOJI FUSHIGURO𝜗𝜚

Toji was not a man who was fit to be a dad. Well, that’s what he had told himself again and again, whenever he would have the urge to lose the condom, or not stopping when it broke. The way your body bounced with each harsh thrust of his made him a little delirious, and that’s all he chalked it up to. But then, you got the implant.

God, that fucking implant. He could’ve swore it messed with your pheromones or something - could’ve sworn you didn’t feel this fucking good around him before, the way your cheeks flushed and your eyes got all teary when you begged him to cum inside you had him feeing like a fucking nympho. Day or night, mornings before missions, Monday through Sunday, in the middle of the night when he had to wake up to get something to drink - it really didn’t matter. But then an idea even more delicious started to poke at the back of his mind.

It all started when you were curled up into him after one of your many, many sessions, snoring softly, with his cum leaking out of you, did the idea start to crawl onto him. The image of you, pregnant with his kid, all round and directly at his mercy to love, ready to be pumped full again, and again, and again. He played with the implant imprint in your upper arm, humming in agreement to whatever you were saying about it. He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He hated the thing. 

So, being the man he is, Toji had a new goal. To fuck you, fill you up so much that you physically couldn’t not get pregnant. He wanted to pump you up with so, so much of his cum, that you were wobbling trying to stand up after. He wanted to see it leak out of you, wanted to see you with that same, teary eyed, pathetic little look everyday. The way you whines about too much only fuelled him further, putting you in the position you were in now, thighs pressed right to your tummy. Mating press style.

“T-toji! Baby! Give yourself s-some time! Jesus F-fuck!” You whined, practically throwing a fit over how hard he was pumping himself into you. It had been three rounds for him - six for you, because he had eaten you out front to back, as a pre-apology, he supposed for how hard he was about to bruise up your guts. He just squeezed your thighs in the wide palms of his hands, letting out a groan when you scratched your nails down his back even more desperately.

“Mmm… I don’t think so. Think ‘m gonna fill you up until you burst… get you all round ‘nd full of me. You just have to lay there and take it baby.” He grunted out through harsh thrusts, face buried in your neck as he breathed heavily, giving you small nips of appreciation the more sensitive areas of your skin, and pressing kisses to your earlobe for every time you’d sweetly whine out his name. God, this was heaven. 

And you’d be his archangel. 

𝜗𝜚RYOMEN SUKUNA𝜗𝜚

Sukuna wanted an heir. This was his end goal when he saw you, this was his end goal when he married you, and this was end goal right now, only a couple months after your wedding night, to put an heir in you. His stomach did giddy flips one wouldn’t assume the king of curses could even feel thinking about an heir even half as divine as you were. He would kill anyone who said anything even slightly negative about you with a snap of his fingers, fuck, he wouldn’t even bother wasting his energy on killing such stupid scum, he’d get Uraume to do it. 

His mind drifted as he prepared you in his lap, fingers scissoring inside you as you whined and squirmed, trying to hide your face in his bare chest your slick dripping all down his hand, even his wrist. He made you cum three times already, shushing you whenever you tried to protest about being ‘ready’ to be pumped full of him. Your nails scratched against his back, the pain only egging him on as he pressed a kiss to your now sticky forehead, sweat dripping from the orgasms he pulled from you. To him, this was a ritual. 

A ritual of patience, a ritual of love, a ritual of procreation. Both his cocks strained heavy against the thin, soft silk of his sokutai, letting you grind helplessly and pathetically against them. His other hand was rubbing circles into your back, cooing you to calm down as he worked you up at the same time. 

Before you, sex, intimacy, whatever you’d call it - was a chore. He’d call in a concubine, already prepped for him, get it over with, and not have the cravings for another week or so. He didn’t do it for their pleasure, it was supposed to be a privilege on their part, to even be near him. But something primal in him snapped when he first saw you, something that made giving pleasure seem so… enticing, sweet. 

He was right, by any definition, you were sweet. Your taste was an ambrosia unlike any other, a gift from whatever gods above him - which he didn’t believe there were any, he was the god everyone prayed to, he was the top of the food chain, and you could go any higher - but you had him second guessing his own faiths when he tugged and kneaded at your thighs, giving you small spanks to keep you grinding your hips onto his face. 

It took nearly an hour of him letting his mind go in circles while the beautiful whines of yours for hoarser and hoarser, another four orgasms from you, for him to agree that you were ‘ready’ to be filled up, ready to carry his heir, ready to be soft and mouldable for him, and once he had you pressed into the silk sheets of your bed, he nearly burst to tears. The way you laid there, looking at him like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, eyes wide and heart beating fast, littered with bite marks and spit, hands gripping the sheets, knowing things were only going to get more and more intense, he just had to ruin you. It would be selfish not to eat you whole. 

[lilipens]

✧. A LITTLE BIT OF REST.

Synopsis: Academics have been gradually taking a toll on you, with each assignment and exam building on the last. Lately, it’s become more noticeable—how the stress chips away at your energy, leaving you drained. They’ve started to pick up on it, and each in their own way, they try to cheer you up. Pairing: All Dorm Leaders/Housewardens (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus) x Gender Neutral!Reader Warnings / Genre: N/A. Super duper Comfort, Fluff + Headcanons A/N: highly self indulgent LMFAO. not proofread sorry,,,, also just a quick heads up that i'll probably be posting during sundays more often due to school!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

As someone who studies diligently and holds himself to high standards, Riddle knows exactly how it feels to be overwhelmed by the pressure of academic perfection. He doesn’t just observe your burnout from a distance— he feels it too.

When he sees you pushing yourself too hard, he knows what’s at stake, and his approach is much more calm yet purposeful. He won’t let you bury yourself in endless work without reminding you of the importance of balance.

Riddle values dedication but knows that pushing yourself too far isn’t strength. When he sees you struggling, he steps in with a clear plan to help you recover and stay on track. Using his own experience, he adjusts your schedule or breaks tasks into smaller steps, making things feel more manageable. His goal isn’t just to make you rest but to help you regain control in a way that feels doable.

Rest for Riddle isn’t just about taking a break; it’s about being productive in a different way. He’ll suggest a short time for reflection, perhaps guiding you through a mindful pause to help you reconnect with your goals and recharge.

Though he’s not one to openly express his own vulnerabilities, Riddle has an understanding of the mental and emotional toll of hard work. He provides you support not through grand gestures, but through his steady and practical care. It’s the small things that matter.

Hunched over your papers, your eyes barely staying open as you try to cram as much information as possible. The hours blur together as the pressure mounts. You don’t notice Riddle until he’s already there, standing by your desk with crossed arms. His gaze lingers on the scattered papers, and he steps forward.

Without asking, he begins gathering your messy notes. As he stacks the papers, he refuses to let the silence drag on. “I’m sure you believe this constant cramming is going to help,” he starts firmly, “but you are wearing yourself thin. This isn’t the way to do it.”

“Oh, come on, Riddle,” you protest, feeling conflicted. “You know I’ve got an exam way too soon… I can’t slack off.”

“The more you push yourself beyond your limits, the less effective you become. You’ve been at this for hours, and it’s clear your mind is no longer functioning at its best.” is what he immediately debates with.

You frown, reaching for your notes— Yet, Riddle moves them away from your grasp and he continues on. “You can’t keep going at this pace and expect great results. You’ll just make yourself worse off in the end.”

His blue-gray eyes lock onto yours as he pauses, his tone softening just a touch but still carrying that undeniable authority. “You’ve done enough for now. Take a break before you burn out completely. I won’t allow you to overdo it.”

You want to keep arguing, but his words settle in your mind, and the exhaustion creeping up on you makes it impossible to ignore. With a reluctant sigh, you do realize that Riddle’s right—you need rest, not more study sessions.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

Direct and unfiltered, Leona wastes no time to call you out when he sees you overdoing it. He’s not one for flowery words or unnecessary concern. There’s nothing that can speak louder than his own actions.

And so, he’s able to somehow sense when you’re tweaking out with something, even if you’re trying to push through. His approach is straightforward, helping you reset before you hit your breaking point.

Leona is the type to catch the tiny to huge signs that you’re overworking, and he’ll take action without any warning at all. 

No patience for excuses. Leona doesn’t entertain any attempt to justify your stress. If he sees you trying to power through, he’ll just tell you flat out that it’s not working. Leave it be. He won’t stand around while you waste time on a subject that’s clearly draining you. Instead, he’ll give you no choice but to step back. His reasoning? If you’re going to make mistakes, at least make them while you’re not running on fumes. 

Will let you complain— then call you out. Leona knows that sometimes you just need to vent. He’ll let you grumble and complain about your studies, yet the second you go in circles, that’s where he tells you to quit it. No sympathy, no coddling—it’s just making you know that whining won’t solve anything. That’s his way of caring.

The numbers blur together on the page. Formulas spin around in your head like it’s some sort of ancient language, and nothing seems to fit. You rub your temples, frustration building as you stare at your notes.

“This is insane,” you groan, pushing the paper aside and running your hands through your hair. “How am I supposed to get this in one sitting?”

Next to you, Leona’s sprawled out, his tail lazily swishing and arms behind his head, completely unbothered from how messy your reviewing is. His eyes are closed, looking more relaxed than you’ve felt all day. 

You glance over at him with a heavy sigh. “This is ridiculous. I’m never gonna get this.”

Leona doesn’t even move, but he opens one eye. “What’s the point of complaining, then?” Doesn’t seem amused about your predicament either.

You freeze for a second, your brain scrambling to find some excuse to keep going. “No, well... I just need a little more time.”

“No, you won’t,” Leona states bluntly, which is pretty much true.  “You’re already failing at this point. Take a damn break already.”

You take another look at your lecture and slump back. Definitely not going back to that diabolical thing, so you toss your pen aside. “…Actually, taking a break sounds nice,” you relent, utterly defeated. 

Leona forms a tiny smirk on his face. “Told you.”

You give in with a huff, lying back on the grass next to him. The minute you stop stressing, the thorn on your shoulder disappears and you find yourself, surprisingly, more at peace than you’ve been all day. Leona’s just smarter about these things than you give him credit for.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

To Azul, burnout isn’t an abstract hurdle; it’s a problem with a clear, actionable solution. Much like closing a deal, he breaks the issue into manageable pieces, pinpointing what’s been putting you down and offering precise ways to address it.

Support from Azul is as seamless as it is intentional. He doesn’t overwhelm you with constant attention, nor does he ignore the signs of your stress. Rather, he intervenes faintly, leaving a refreshing drink beside you or proposing an unobtrusive break when the strain becomes too evident. It’s thoughtful and calculated, fitting into your routine with ease.

Relaxation is something Azul transforms into an art. When he insists you rest, it’s far from ordinary. He creates an experience: a calming atmosphere, perhaps a luxurious bath, or a lovely massage from yours truly. Every detail is curated to guarantee your recovery is successful

No favors without a price. Azul is a businessman at heart! And although he’s genuinely concerned, he’s not going to help you for free. But this time, his terms are different. What he asks for isn’t payment or a favor— it’s your commitment to take care of yourself properly. Rest and recharge, he insists, are the only things worth trading in this scenario, and he holds you to it.

Even as he maintains a composed exterior, Azul knows what it’s like to hit a wall. If you’re struggling or in need of a break, he’s not one to demand it. He’ll gladly offer his help without hesitation. Whether it’s lending a hand with the task at hand or encouraging you to obviously take a rest, he’s quick to make you feel you’re not left to push through alone.

From what’s happening, Azul doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong—he can tell. He’s already behind you, his hands already working at the tension in your shoulders that weighed as much as the books you had to read for an upcoming test. 

“Struggling, are we?” Azul hums, already knowing the answer to that question. As he continues working the knots from your muscles, his fingers press with intent. “If you think pushing through this fatigue will help you, you’re mistaken.”

His fingers move with an objective, easing the tightness in your muscles. "Rest now, and you'll be able to focus better later," he adds, as if it’s just as simple as that. "Trying to study while you’re exhausted isn’t going to help anyone." 

You feel the tension melt away, and despite yourself, you start to relax. Azul knows exactly how to make you see sense. Rest isn’t a luxury—it’s part of the process. And with his steady, gloved hands guiding you, you can’t argue with that logic.

KALIM AL-ASIM.

His positivity is contagious! When you're overwhelmed, Kalim’s first ever instinct is to lighten the mood and fill your space with good vibes. He focuses on bringing joy to the moment to let you un wind.

Recognizes when you need a break and insists on it. Kalim won't just suggest you rest—he'll almost make it impossible for you to say no! Whether it’s dragging you out for a fun activity or turning study time into a game, he’ll find a way to get you to step away from overdoing it tooooo much.

While his energy is usually high, he knows when to tone it down, if you ever tell him to. He’s totally okay with just being there for you!!

Encourages you to let loose. Kalim’s the type who knows when to push you to relax with a little spontaneity. He may not always be able to solve your problems, but he’s great at distracting you from them. Expect impromptu dance breaks or sudden trips out to take your mind off things. Expect a sudden food trip as well.

A signal that you deserve fun and joy. Kalim doesn’t just want you to get your rest—he wants you to actively seek out happiness, even when the work feels unending. His care for you goes beyond just helping you with burnout; he wants you to feel good in every way possible.

Ugh, these mountains of assignments before you feel insurmountable. No matter how many notes you review, the information just doesn’t stick. Kalim watches you with a concerned expression from across the room, clearly not fooled by your focus. And so, he slowly tip-toes his way to you.

Without warning, he’s up and out of his chair, grabbing your hand with a wide grin. “Alright, that’s it! No more homework for you! We’re going to do something fun!” he declares, pulling you up before you can protest.

“But Kalim, I need to—”

“Nope!” He cuts you off, leading you outside to an open area on campus. “You’ve been working hard, and now it’s time for some fun! You’ll thank me later!”

Despite your initial resistance, you find yourself enjoying with his antics. Kalim’s infectious energy is difficult to ignore, and before you know it, you’re not thinking about textbooks or formulas. After a while, the stress that had weighed you down earlier feels lighter, and you realize that, for once, you’ve actually enjoyed yourself.

“See? Now you’re ready to get back to studying, right?” Kalim asks, his smile bright as ever.

You nod, grateful for the reminder that taking a break is just as important as the work itself.

VIL SCHOENHEIT.

Prioritizes your well-being as much as your performance. Vil understands that success isn’t only about hard work; it’s also about taking care of yourself. When he sees you pushing too hard, he steps in with a nudge to make sure you’re looking after your own needs.

Vil knows that sleep is crucial for maintaining your appearance. If he catches you burning the midnight oil, he’ll quickly point out that lack of sleep can lead to skin problems. He won’t let you skip out on sleep, ensuring you get enough hours to keep your glow intact!

Pushes you to strive for excellence, but not at the cost of your health. Vil doesn't mince words. He’ll tell you that while excellence is key, it’s impossible to reach your full potential if you're physically or mentally drained. His tough-love approach aids you to rest guilt-free.

While he ensures everything you need is within reach, Vil steps back when necessary, giving you space while still overseeing that you’re on the right path. He knows when to be hands-off. What he wants is more about guiding from a distance, making sure you’re supported without being smothered.

Takes a no-nonsense step to self-care. Vil is not the one for empty comforts. When he suggests rest, it’s because he’s seen the signs that you’ve reached your limit. He’ll encourage you to take a break in a way that ensures you actually benefit from it. And that’s through mindfulness exercises or making sure you get full hours of sleep.

Feeling Vil’s hands as they gently rub the toner into your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. “You’re not going to retain anything if you don’t take a step back,” he chides, smoothing a serum into your face. “Your brain’s running on empty, and pushing through it will only make things worse.”

You hold onto your textbook weakly, but Vil silences you with a pointed look. “Studying can wait. Focus on yourself now.” He's firm, but the soothing rhythm of his movements suggests he’s already in control, seamlessly switching between products as he guides you through the routine.

By the time the routine is finished, you feel more at ease. All that clog in your brain has been cleansed by Vil. “You’ve done enough for today,” he tells you assuredly. “Now rest and recover. Your studies will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

IDIA SHROUD.

Even if he's not the best at emotional support, Idia’s way of helping during burnout involves a combo of companionship and gaming. If you’re stressing out, he’ll slide a controller over to you or invite you to join him for a match—it’s for you to take your mind off things and go AFK from your studies for a while.

When you’re pushing yourself too hard, Idia will pull you away from your textbooks by loading up a game that's often Minecraft or some multiplayer game he’s grinding. He doesn’t really say much about your stress, though the simple act of playing together shows how much he cares about your well-being.

His ability to aid is kinda noob-level, like trying his best to lead you out of a burnout dungeon. He might rambles out of thought from time to time, making him worry you’ll get overstimulated. He’s not exactly smooth; still, his effort is there, even if he's not sure himself things will work.

While gaming together, Idia can be a bit of a tryhard, fully immersed in the game and urging you to focus on the mission rather than stressing.

Idia’s version of self-care is a bit unconventional (as if he takes care of himself properly), but if it means getting you to step away from your textbooks and level up the EXP you lost, he’s all in. He’s sure that winning a few rounds or building a house together is a surefire way to recharge.

You're scrolling through your inventory, trying to figure out where you want to build next. A farm? A simple house? Pixel art? The game’s peaceful enough since both of you are in creative mode. You glance at Idia, who’s still kind of lurking, hovering with his controller in hand, but he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

“So, uh... where should we make the house?” Idia asks, trying not to sound too eager but clearly wanting to get into it.

Without much thought, you pick a spot, pointing to a flat area by a river. “Here,” you mutter, a little more focused on building than anything else. “This seems like a good place to start.”

After a few more minutes into the game, you start to gradually get more energetic. He’s quiet now, looking over you as you get more into it. You’re starting to improve, and he can’t help the small sense of relief that washes over him. It’s a little thing, watching you regain your focus and energy. But, it means the world to him.

MALLEUS DRACONIA.

Malleus is keenly attuned to the smallest details, a habit shaped by his nature. His observation picks up on the tiniest shifts in your demeanor—the signs of stress, exhaustion, or when something feels out of place in your routine. He might not constantly show it, but he’s always watching (in a good way).

When it comes to burnout, Malleus is unfailingly gentle. He won’t pressure you into rest, and offers you to step away from what's keeping you in a hassle. A calm walk in the garden becomes his suggestion, a chance for you to breathe.

Malleus knows he does not need to be forceful. He never demands rest, respecting when you prefer solitude. If you need time to yourself, he’ll watch from a distance, assuring you're okay without intruding on your space. His care isn't as obvious, but you know he's always there, guarding you. After all, you are his favorite person.

Having been isolated for much of his life, Malleus is deeply aware of what it feels like to be overlooked or having to mask turmoil. He recognizes when you're retreating into yourself, and without making a big show of it, he makes his presence known. It’s not about asking if you’re okay—it's just how he shows you that you are not alone.

Malleus’ care doesn’t shout; it’s felt in silence. It’s when he talks to you to take your mind off things. He’s not trying to fix you, merely offering light when everything feels heavy.

Ah, finally. Some fresh air that keeps you refreshed. You walk side by side, taking in the breeze. Malleus walks with his usual regal presence, though every so often, his eyes wander, taking in the details of the scenery.

"Do you think gargoyles are more than just statues?" Malleus suddenly inquires, innocent curiosity laced within his tone. It's as if he’s pondering the thought out loud. "I’ve always thought they have more purpose than being mere decorations."

He takes a little peak at you, eyes gleaming with that same intensity. "In my homeland, there are gargoyles that watch over the castles. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re meant to protect the place, like guardians."

He pauses for a second before turning to you again, that soft smile of his still visible on his face. "What do you think, human? Are they just stone, or do they have some deeper meaning?"

It’s a random thought, but you can’t help feeling endeared by Malleus’ strange musings. He’s not seeking a response, just casually sharing what’s on his mind. You're not complaining. This is better than having to study all those lectures again and again.

© lilipens

[alotofpockets]

You called | Jessie Fleming x Chelsea!Reader & Niamh Charles x Best friend!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "You came." - "You called."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

-----

Usually you were the one bringing the vibes to the locker room. It didn’t matter if it was before a game or just before training. You were the locker room DJ, trying to get everyone in a good mood, and were always found chatting with your teammates.

Today before training however, your teammates weren’t met with your usual bubbly personality. You walked into the locker room with your headphones on, and no sign that you were going to take them off. Sending a small smile their way before sitting down in your own cubby.

A few looks were shared between your teammates. “I’ve got it.” Niamh said softly, earning a nod from her fellow worried teammates. Niamh was your best friend and roommate, so the team trusted her to be the one that could come through for you.

Once everyone else had left the room, Niamh moved to sit next to you. She nudged your shoulder with her own to get your attention. “Oh sorry.” You say while sliding your headphones down. 

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to see if you were okay to join practice or if you wanted to head home.” Her voice was soft, as if she was afraid that if she spoke any louder, you would break. 

“Yeah I need to join practice.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “You need to?” 

With a nod you answered, “If I want to play on Sunday then yes, I need to.” Niamh understood then. She knew your mom’s birthday was coming up, the first one after she had passed, and you had been down the last couple of days because of it. 

Niamh had been there for you since you first shared that you were struggling with your mum’s birthday coming up, and you had shared that you wanted to play on her birthday, because you wanted to make her proud.

Today was the last training session before the match on Sunday. Sunday, the day of your mom’s birthday. So, you needed to join practice to make the squad for the game.

“Come on then.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Let’s go and make your mom proud, alright?” You let her pull you up and walk out to the pitch together. 

For a moment you could put all your other thoughts aside and just play football, but once you were back in the locker room, your headphones came back on and you blocked out the world around you.

Your teammates had worried looks on their faces, but they went unnoticed by you. “Did you find out what’s going on?” Guro asks Niamh. “Yeah, her mum’s birthday is coming up on Sunday.” 

Niamh didn’t have to say more, the team all knew how hard your mom’s passing had been for you. And with the many firsts without her you had already faced, they knew you would just need some space.

“Ready to go home?” Niamh asked once everyone had packed up and left. You nod and follow her to her car. 

When you got back home, you went straight to your room and fell down onto the bed. Niamh was putting her bags away first and then wanted to check on you, but as she walks up to your door, she hears you talking to Jessie. Niamh backed up and let you have time with your girlfriend.

Jessie had moved to Portland after she signed for the Thorns, and you had been doing long distance for the first time. It had its ups and downs, but in the end you and Jessie made it work. It was moments like this that you hated the distance though.

It didn’t take long before your tears started rolling down your cheeks. “I wish you were here.” You said softly, before you let Jessie answer, you added. “But I know I can’t ask that of you.”

“I know, baby. I wish I could hold you and offer you more comfort than just my voice.” Jessie wanted nothing more than to reach out through the screen and pull you into a hug.

You stayed on the phone with Jessie for hours until you fell asleep. She stayed on the call as long as she could, like you had done many nights before, only hanging up when she had to go. She texted you a sweet message before ending the call and heading out.

The next morning, Niamh had gotten breakfast ready while you were getting dressed. When you got downstairs, you thanked her before silently eating what she prepared. 

“Are you ready to head out?” She asked with the keys in her hand. “Just one thing, I’ll be right there.” Niamh nodded and headed to her car to put the bags into the car and give you a moment. 

You headed to your room and grabbed one of the pictures that was hanging on your mirror. It was a polaroid picture your dad had taken of you and your mom when they took you to your first ever football game. Both you and your mom in a Chelsea jersey. You let your fingers move over the text your mom had written on the picture. 

After snapping a quick picture of it and posting it to your story, you headed to the car where Niamh was waiting for you.

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y/n_y/l/n just posted to their story

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The car ride to the stadium was quiet, the only sound coming from the radio that was softly playing. Niamh was the one to break the silence just before you took the turn to the Stadium. “I bet she’s always proud of you.” The comment instantly made your eyes water. “She was always in the stands when we played at home, watching you play. I know that if she would’ve been able to, she would’ve traveled everywhere we played.” 

You smiled through the tears, knowing that Niamh was right. If it wasn’t for her own job, she would have traveled the whole world to see you play. “Thank you.” You say as you wipe away your tears as you enter the parking lot.

Once in the locker room, you sat down in your cubby to get ready. Someone else taking over DJ duties, as you were not feeling up to that still. You put the picture of you and your mom in your cubby to have it with you. You were in your own bubble getting ready, until Niamh nudged your shoulder. “Look up.”

You lifted up your head to see what she was talking about and were met with Jessie. It took you a second to realise what was happening, a moment where you were just staring at her. When it finally sunk in you got up and ran into her arms. 

“You came.” You said as you held her tight. “You called.” She said as if it was the most normal thing to fly from Portland to London on a whim, while her season was in full swing. “But your game.” You said as you stepped back. “Don’t worry about it. You needed me, so I cleared it with the coach and got on the first flight out.”

Once you had your moment with her, she hugged the rest of her former teammates. “Alright, have a good game everyone.” She waved before taking you to the side. 

“You’re gonna do great out there. Your mom would be so proud of you for being out there.” She brought you in for another hug. “I’m gonna join your dad in the stands, and see you after the match, alright?” 

“My dad is here?” You asked confused. “He said an important meeting came up, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to make it.” Jessie smiled and nodded. “Yeah, his meeting was picking me up from the airport. We just didn’t know if we were gonna make it before kick off. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad.”

You couldn’t believe it. Having both Jessie and your dad in the stands today meant the world to you.

After celebrating the win with the team on the field, you headed home. Jessie and your dad were already there once you and Niamh got back. 

“We got a cake. It was your mom’s favourite.” He said, his voice breaking slightly. You knew how hard her death had been on him as well. “I thought we could light some candles and celebrate her.” You nodded and smiled, while tears formed in your eyes. “That sounds nice.”

You give your dad a big hug, before you get the cake ready together. It was a nice moment, with a lot of emotions, but you were glad you got to spend it with the people closest to you.

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