#after that it's just whatever you like best?

[cat-got-your-tongue]

too sweet for me

Dp&W!Logan howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You've not been feeling like yourself, and you take it out on logan until one day he decides he can't take it anymore.

Warnings: established relationship | spanking | mention of safe word | dom/sub undertones | fingering | maturbation (male) | facials | so sorry if I left anything out. If you tell me I'll fix it.

Word count: 4.2k

Authors note: I'm still trying to get into the swing of writing. I hope you enjoy. Not proofread. My requests are open. Pictures used are not mine found on Pinterest. Divider by @saradika-graphics

My work will always be 18+ Minors do not interact.

You had been in a foul mood all day, no better yet all week. Any little thing Logan did got under your skin. He used your shampoo, and suddenly, you were slinging the bottle across the bathroom. He made your coffee, and you snatched it away from him. He said good morning, and you responded with a roll of your eyes and a "good morning" under your breath. It seemed like all you wanted to do was pick a fight. And your attitude was aimed solely at him.

Logan noticed how relaxed and sweet you were with Wade. He watched as you laughed, and it he wouldn't lie it stung him a bit. You seemed to enjoy that annoying fucks company more than his. Logan had been trying so hard to get back into your good graces for the past couple of days now. When he spoke to you, he made sure his tone of voice was soft. He didn't want to trigger whatever animosity you had for him.

He didn't like feeling as if he were walking on eggshells around you. But he didn't know what to do - or what he did for you to act this way. The only thing he knows is that when you got this way, he hated it. Logan had a hard time controlling his temper, and you certainly knew how to test his patience. So much so that he had to leave the apartment you two live in and spend the night at Wades place.

Today, he had enough.

Logan had been trying to put your bookshelf together today. One you picked out at ikea, and he made a comment on building you a better one that would last much longer. You were hell bent on this particular shelf that could fit right in the corner of your living room. You bugged him all week to do it. But he had been busy working, and then by the time he came home, he was exhausted.

"Baby, can ya' grab me a beer while i do this?" He spoke up as he looked over the instructions. His eyes trained on the visual image on the flimsy piece of paper. His vision straining a bit.

"No," you snapped when logan asked you to get him a beer from the fridge. "Get it yourself. I'm not your maid."

Logan sighed and took a deep breath. He didn't want to snap at you, but you made it really fucking hard not to. "Fine."

He got up, tossing the instructions down and going over to the fridge. You were standing there as his shoulder brushed yours, and his hard gaze fell on you. You shrunk down a bit and went back to sit down at the table. You didn't know why you were being an asshole. You wish you weren't this way. You always seemed to get agitated with the people who never deserved it.

"Wanna tell me what crawled up your ass?"Logan popped his beer open and took a long swig. "I'm trying not to react but it's really hard dealing with your bitchy attitude all week and I've been trying my fuckin' best to please ya."

Logan regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. Your nonchalant reaction to them only pissed him off more.

You didn't respond. You only shrugged your shoulders and went back to reading your book at the table. You couldn't tell him what was wrong, because you had no idea either. He didn't do anything. You were just not in a good mood, and unfortunately, logan was taking the blunt of it. You know his feelings were probably hurt. Especially after seeing you so upbeat and happy when Wade was around.

Logan took another sip of his beer and slammed the bottle down on the table right next to you, causing you to jump a little. He leaned over the back of the chair. his lips ghosting your ear. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and you didn't need to see his face to know he's mad. You've pushed him too far. He had been patient, and you kept pushing. You kept snapping and being mouthy.

"Go in the bedroom and get undressed." His voice is low and dangerous in your ear.

"But" you tried to argue back, knowing what he wanted to do.

"Don't." His voice was soft again. "No buts I've had about enough of your fuckin' attitude. Go in the bedroom, get undressed, and I'll meet ya' in there."

You turned to look up at him from your seat. Your eyes pleaded for him to change his mind. Yet you knew you deserved it. Everything you've done and said led up to this moment.

"Now." He commanded and picked up his beer and finished it off.

You quickly rose to your feet and carefully got up, trying not to look up at him. He could be intimidating when he's angry. He'd never actually hurt you. You and logan had this agreement since you began dating. Punishments were a pretty normal thing. Logan hated giving them just and much as you hated getting them. (Well, you and him didn't hate them all the time) they did help you, and he knew that. All of the times, when you were overwhelmed with emotions and didn't know how to handle them — this was an outlet for you to let it all out. You would ask for a punishment. Logan always gave you what you wanted and pampered you when it was all done.

You went into your shared room and stripped down until you were completely naked. You sat on the edge of the bed, hanging your head. Hoping logan would take some pity on you. The room was dark, save for the sunset peaking through your curtains.

Logan sat down at the chair you were in before leaving. He tried to collect himself before joining you. He really just wanted you to talk to him. He wanted to understand you. Understand what he did wrong. Understand why you seemed so angry, but he remembered your eyes. You looked so sad and unsure of yourself. All he wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms and protect you from your feelings. He knows doing this will help clear your mind.

He sat there for a couple more minutes, letting you anticipate what was coming, but also trying to calm himself.

Finally, logan walked into the room and saw you at the edge of the bed. You looked defeated. His eyes softened slightly, but he knew he had to go through with this. If you didn't want the punishment, you would use your safeword. You've used it many times before. Since you didn't say anything and you complied to strip off your clothes. He sensed you wanted this punishment if it made you nervous.

"Look at me, baby." He walked to stand above you. His finger lifted your chin up. Your eyes met his. You made it so hard for him to stay mad at you.

You were just so sweet even if you were a fucking pain in the ass to handle. Too sweet for someone like him sometimes.

You looked up at him, his touch was gentle on your face. His hazel eyes weren't boring into yours. He seemed remorseful for what he was about to do. He knew he had to. He couldn't let you continue being so rude and disrespectful towards him. He also knew you needed this. Your body language told him everything.

Logan let go of your chin and took off his white tank top, throwing it across the room. Your eyes ran up and down his body. Your thighs squeezed together. You could feel your arousal already pooling between your legs.

He ran a hand through his hair. "How do ya' want it, hand or belt?"

You hesitated to answer at first.

"Uhmm, your hand." Your voice was quiet.

Logan smirked, noting how quickly your little attitude was already changing. "Alright, it'll be my hand, and we'll do ten spanks. Sound good?"

You nodded and bit down on your bottom lip.

"Use your words, baby." Logan got closer, invading your space. He placed his hands on either side of your hips, his grip firm, but still gentle. He could feel his cock already beginning to strain against the cold metal of his zipper.

"Sounds good." You spoke again quietly.

"Okay." He leaned down and gave the corner of your mouth a quick kiss. "Get up and lay over my lap. You remember what to say if you want this to stop. Yeah?"

"I say red." You jump down off the bed. Logan reluctantly releases your hips but moves back slightly to give you some space.

He sat down in the same spot you were sitting in. You stood there in front of him, your body bare for him. He took you all in and licked his lips. If you weren't being such a brat he'd fuck you instead. God, the things he'd do to you right now. He had to fight those urges. Those primal urges to pull you in his lap and drive his cock deep in your weeping cunt.

You wanted to apologize. You knew it was too little too late for that. No amount of apologizing would help you now. The thought of logan spanking you sent waves of arousal and fear through your body.

"Good girl." Logan praised. His deep, husky voice made your clit pulsate. He reached out, yanking you by the waist, and threw you over his lap.

You gasped as you were now laying across his thighs. His belt buckle digging into your side. Your feet dangling over the floor as you tried not to fall off him. He probably would like that, though. Seeing you fall and watching you get embarrassed.

"Lo, are you mad at me?" You turned to glance up at him over your shoulder.

His quirked an eyebrow up at you. "Mad? Don't ya' think it's a little too late to be askin' me that?" He sighed. "Yeah, I'm mad, but we'll discuss all of that later. Right now, I want ya' to count every spank I give your ass. Okay?"

You turned your head and looked down. You tried to keep your focus on a spot on the floor. It usually helped you deal with the pain and slight humiliation would feel. "Okay."

Logan rubbed his hand over the plush skin of your bottom. You heard him hum as you laid over his lap. Your ass reminded him of a ripe peach he wanted to sink his teeth into. Juicy, firm, soft all the things he liked.

"I hate doin' this. Punishing ya'. I'd much rather be balls deep inside ya' but you just had to hurt my feelings." Logan spoke from behind you. He wasn't really speaking to you rather than at you. He didn't care for your response or sorrys.

"Lo...I- I don't mean to." Your voice broke and your eyes blurred with tears.

You never thought how you were acting would actually hurt his feelings. Logan's never been good at expressing that before. Maybe your sudden mood swings were starting to really affect him. Even if it was your way of asking to be punished — or you were just not feeling like yourself and the sudden wave of sadness made you lash out.

Regardless, it wasn't fair to logan. You see that now. You always saw him as this invincible man where nothing could hurt him. Not even harsh words and the silent treatment. You were wrong. So very wrong.

"Start counting." He interrupted you. His hand, going back to connect with your ass with a harsh slap.

You whimpered, and tears fell from your eyes. "O-ne."

Logan rubbed over the spot he just spanked. You were already crying, and he's barely gotten started. He didn't give you much time to collect yourself before his hand was reconnecting in hard slap to your ass. He watches as the skin ripples from the impact. His cock growing harder watching your ass jiggle as you took your punishment. He had to bit his tongue and not make a comment on it, know how you'd you get embarrassed. Even if he'd love seeing you get that way.

"T-two." You cried out. Your tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor beneath you, creating small salty puddles.

Logan's hand reeled back again, spanking you over and over. He didn't slow down or go easy on you. Every swat felt like your ass all the way down to your thighs would go numb from the pain. You were a sobbing mess as you struggled to even count for him.

"Shh, shh baby, we're almost done." He soothed you and kissed your temple. "You're doing so good."

Your mind was in a haze now. You couldn't remember being upset. The only thing on your mind was logan and the stinging pain he was inflicting to your ass. His rough hands groping at your skin before delivering another harsh blow.

You could feel your juices running down your legs. You hoped logan wouldn't notice how turned on you also were getting. The more you cried and got it all out, the better you felt. As weird as it probably sounded to some. This made you feel at ease once it was all said and done.

Logan noticed you go silent. The only sound coming from your lips were soft cries.

"Do ya' know what number we're at now?" He rubbed down your back, avoiding your ass for now.

You shook your head. "N-no."

"We're at eight. almost done." Logan reassured, his hand slowly inching down your back and resting on the curve of your sore cheeks.

You took a few steady deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Repeating the action over and over again.

Logan observed the way you were trying to pull yourself together. He gave you a small smile before continuing on. He gave your ass a light little tap, signaling you he was about to start again. You braced yourself as your body hung over his lap. Your toes danced across the floor while you desperately tried to keep yourself perfectly balanced.

"Nine." You yelped a little louder. His hand came down again. The sounds that were made each time his palm connected to your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

"....t-ten." Your voice was raspy, barely even above a whisper as you counted the final blow.

"There we go, baby. We're done. We're all done." Logan went right back into soothing you. He looked down towards your ass watching your body trembling. "You're so strong, ya' know that? So good."

You tried to catch your breath as you choked back another sob. Your face was tear stained, and your makeup ruined.

Logan rubbed up and down the back of your thighs as well. His hand sneaking in between them. He bit his lip as he noticed how wet you got during your punishment. Your inner thighs sticky with your slick. He ran a finger along your wet slit, teasing you. Your nails dig into his strong thighs.

"Mmm, you feel so soft." He purred above you.

Your pussy was drenched with your juices. Your body was still shaking from your punishment. Your ass felt like it was on fire. Logan moved his middle finger up and down along your slit before taking his middle and index finger to spread open your sensitive lips. You turned your head to watch as logan admired your sex dripping for him. He loved the way it glistened. He watched as your walls clenched around nothing, practically begging him to fill you up.

All that attitude, sadness, and feelings of self-doubt of yours were fading away.

"Logan, please," you begged him. Your voice, still raspy. He did a double take at your disheveled appearance. Your eyes bloodshot with your mascara running, smudging your under eyes.

Logan felt so bad for making you cry like that. He felt even worse for not taking it easy on you when he was spanking you. Even if it helped you get over whatever it was you that bothered you. But he couldn't deny how hard it made him as well.

He didn't respond as he spread your lips further apart, letting the cold air of your bedroom hit your entrance. Your face heating up while logan fully exposes you. Your clit throbbing as it goes ignored. He takes his thumb and rubs the outer part of your opening, getting it nice and ready. You moan, and logan doesn't stop looking at you.

"Ya' have the tightest little pussy." He commented, feeling how your entrance wants to take in his thumb, but he doesn't push it in. Not yet.

Instead, he pulls it away, and you whine; a small pout forming on your face. You began squirming over his lap, his erection pressing right against your stomach. You can see just how feral he wants to be become. His pupils blown completely until out, you can't see the color anymore. His nostrils flared while smelling your arousal all in the room.

"This is how it's gonna be. I'll let ya' cum on my fingers. That's all ya' get tonight. Jus' my fingers. You don't deserve my dick. " His tone was strong and commanding as he told you how the rest of the night was going to go.

That's when you knew your punishment didn't just stop once the spanking was over with.

"Will you still help me get cleaned up afterward?" You felt a little disappointed and on the verge of crying again when he rejected you. Logan usually always fucked you after your punishment. This time it was so different.

"Baby, I'm always gonna take of ya." Logan reassured. Which almost made you feel better.

He finally slipped a finger inside you. Your walls instinctively squeeze around his thick digit. You cried out in pleasure as you squirmed more. The pad of his finger slowly rubbing and pressing firmly on that spongey spot on your walls. You arched your back and dug your nails into his skin through his jeans.

"Hmmphf.... more lo— I need more." You begged.

Your head felt dizzy from all the sensations you felt. Your ass was still in so much pain but logans attention to your pussy kept your mind off it. Normally, he would tease you longer. Make you beg until you were a complete wreck. He couldn't bring himself to do that tonight. He felt guilty for spanking you the way he did. But still wasn't going to give you his cock.

Logan gently pushed another finger inside you. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he began pumping them in and out of you slowly. You felt his cock twitch in his jeans under you. His fingers knuckle deep in your cunt as he trusted them inside you. He curled them up and made sure to pay close attention to your g-spot, pressing on it and massaging it. Your walls clenching up and your toes curling.

"You okay, baby? Logan checked in, but his fingers didn’t slow.

"Y-yes...m'okay keeping going" You stammered out, as you tried to keep focus.

He chuckled and picked up the pace. His fingers were making your pussy create the most vulgar wet sounds you've ever heard. Your slick soaking his hand as he fucked you. Your legs shook and he took his other hand to rub tight circles over your clit. You could feel your orgasm building up. That coil in your lower belly tightening as logan fingered you hard and deep.

"F-fu- logan, I can't hold it." You warned him. Your moans were getting louder and more desperate.

"Aaah! god! I'm gonna-" You mewled while your cunt was being spread open. His long, thick fingers working in and out of you.

That only spurred him on until you were cuming all over his hands. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you hold onto his thighs for dear life.

Logan didn't stop. His fingers still moved in and out of you while his other hand payed attention to your throbbing clit. He milked your pussy as you rode out your release. He finally slowed down and stilled his hands. Carefully, he removed his fingers with a loud shlick. A string of your juices still connecting to them. He brought them up to his lips, sticking them in his mouth.

Logan hummed at the taste of you. "You're so sweet. " You wanted to hide your face. Your eyes glossy from your orgasm.

"Come on, on your knees." He patted your ass gently. You didn't move at first. Your body was too weak, and your mind was still too cloudy think.

He noticed your hesitation and figured out why. He placed his hands on your waist and moved you gently to the floor to sit back on your knees.

"Jus' because I'm not sticking my dick in you tonight doesn't mean I can't get off, too." He grunted and unbuckled his belt.

Logan unzipped his pants and his cock sprung free almost smacking you in the face. The head of his cock leaking precum. You lick your lips and immediately try to taste him. He grabbed your jaw firm but not enough to hurt you.

"Ah ah, and what do you think you're doing?" He smirked, taking his cock in his hand.

"I thought you'd want me to use my mouth." You looked up at him, confusion written all over your face.

"Ya' don't get to blow me either. Ya' get to watch me jerk myself off and cum all over that pretty face of yours." Logan let go of your jaw and stood up straight. His form towering over yours as you kneeled in front of him.

"Oh." You wiped your eyes. You felt rejected yet again, but honestly, you understand why. You were a bitch to him for the past week. It was only fair and definitely part of the punishment.

"If you're good. I might let you ride me tomorrow mornin'." He looked down at you, giving you a small smile. You know him telling you no was just as difficult.

Logans abs flexed as his hand slowly started stroking his cock. His thumb pushing down on his tip, smearing in his precum. He let out a loud hiss and groaned. You watched from your position. You shift in your spot as you feel yourself getting wetter. Logan was taking his time. He was making a show of it – wanting you to see what you're missing. His body glistened with sweat. His mouth parted as he muttered "fuck" under his breath.

His hand moved up and down, pumping himself above you. Your eyes were in awe at how beautiful he was. You watched how his abs flexed and his Adam's apple danced. You wanted to reach out and help him. You wanted to apologize with your mouth full of his cock. He wasn't going to let you do any of that.

"Ahh, goddammit. If you weren't such a brat, I'd have ya' split open right now." He grunted again. "Make ya call me sir with my dick in the back of your throat."

"You still can." You reminded him.

He laughed. "Nice try, but no. Only good girls get my dick. Ya' haven't been good."

You frowned and kept your hands in your lap. Your juices were dripping down your legs and little to the floor. You've never been more frustrated and turned on in your life. You watched logan stroking himself. His eyes half lidded, and his muscles flexed with every movement. His pace quickened and you could tell he was about to cum. He cupped his balls with his other hand, making his knees buckle slighlty. Your clit ached at the sight before you.

"Goddamn," he whispered to himself while his hand moved at a faster pace. "See what ya' do to me? How hard ya' make me?"

You watched in awe as your pussy ached more for him. You were on the verge of pouting but remembered what he told you. "Ya can ride me in the mornin" his words echoed in your ear. That promise was enough to keep you at bay and kneeling down before him like a good girl. His good girl. That's what you wanted to be again.

His chest was rising and falling faster. Logan gave himself a few more long strokes, and he was finishing all over your face. He growled harshly and ropes of cum shot out onto your mouth and chin. He was careful not to get any in your eyes or hair. Logan kept pumping himself, milking every single drop he had left in him. You went to move away, but the hand that was on his balls grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer. Your face just millimeters away from his cock and heavy balls. His hand finally stilled.

All you could hear was the sound of his heavy breathing. You waited until he came down from his high. His release had hit him hard, too, just as yours did. Logan had been pent up with so much frustration over these past couple of weeks because of you. You felt his hand letting go of your neck. You went to rub the sore spot where his fingers dug into your skin. He didn't speak to you yet. He was still trying to catch his breath after his release.

Logan dragged his hand down his face and looked you over once more. He gently took you by the upper arms and put you on your feet. Your legs felt wobbly, and the stinging pain on your ass returned. Logans eyes trailed up and down your body, focusing on your face.

You were a mess, cheeks all tear stained. Your makeup smudged and now his cum dripping down your chin. You were a beautiful sight. One logan wanted to admire forever. If he had his phone; he'd make this moment his lockscreen and jerk off to it when you weren't around.

Your tongue inched out to lick some of the cum off your lips. You loved the way he tasted and hated how he wouldn't let you have more. Logan felt his cock twitching again but chose to ignore it. He let out a shuddered breath and shook his head.

"Ya' alright? Was that too much?" He bent down, grabbing his discarded shirt off the floor. Logan carefully wipe off the mess on your face, starting with his cum.

"Not too much." You shook your head. "I'm fine." You tried to fix up your makeup, but it was really no use.

He leaned down and gave your forehead a sweet kiss.

"We need to get some aloe on your ass. It'll help sooth that burning feelin" Logan moved around the room as you stood in your spot. You wrapped your arms around your middle while you watched him hunt for the aloe and put his jeans back on.

Logan noticed how you were hugging around yourself. He cursed under his breath, fixing himself back in his pants. There was something still lingering in the air. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"C'mere baby." He took your arms from around you and pulled you to him in a warm embrace. You buried your face in his chest, taking in his scent. Logan could sense how you needed his comfort more than some lotion right now.

You two stood in eachothers arms for what felt like hours. He finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

"If ya' don't wanna talk about what's been bothering ya' I want pressure. Jus' know I'm all ears once you're ever ready to tell me"

You nodded and closed your eyes, not wanting him to let you go.

"Sometimes I don't know what's wrong." You whispered to him.

"And that's okay." He kissed the top of your head. "Let's take a bath together, and I'll cook ya' dinner."

"Are you gonna finish my bookshelf?" You moved your head away to meet his gentle gaze.

Logan chuckled and playfully swatted your ass. "Yeah, yeah, I'll finish that damn bookshelf."

The rest of your night was spent with you in logans arms after he helped get you all cleaned up. He got our your favorite sweatshirt and made you food. You sat on the couch watching him get frustrated with the instructions to your bookshelf that he had to remind you he could've just made you a better one. Logan did end up finishing it for you and joined you on the couch, pulling you into his lap where you both ended up falling asleep.

[smarteoasis]

❀ new things - nishimura riki

warnings : pussy eating, cussing, inexperienced riki, over stimulation

wc : 914

“i've never eaten out a girl before.” as those words leave your best friends mouth, you stiffle a laugh. “seriously? how's that possible?” you don't believe him, since he's had many girlfriends before.

“im serious! don't laugh at me..” he pouts, glaring at you from embarrassment. “well, why are you telling me?” you rub your eyes in disbelief, questioning him.

“uh.. i was kinda hoping you could teach me.” now this time you don't hold in that laugh. slapping your hand over your mouth, you sit up straight as you notice the pouty look on his face. “wait, actually? you want me to teach you how to eat pussy?”

he nods, mumbling “yea.. was hoping i could try it on you or somethinh..”

your eyes widen, each word making you more shocked, confused and wet. even though it sounds crazy weird, you shrug, sighing. “okay, fine. whatever. i can teach you.” he looks up eyes wide and cheeks red.

“really..? thank you. i just.. don't wanna embarrass myself if i ever have to eat a girl out.. ya know.” you nod, running a hand through your hair. “got it. go wash your hands first though.”

he obeys, running to your bathroom as you take your shorts and panties off on the bed.

when he comes back, his eyes widen as he sees you laying down, legs spread and cunt dripping.

you roll your eyes, “just get over here. ” he stutters, crossing his arms. “i,. didn't think we'd get into this so quickly.”

you shush him, motioning him to get between your legs. riki nods, laying on his stomach and taking ahold of your soft thighs, eyes glued to your pussy.

“do i start.. with the clit? or.. or the hole?” he looks up, his cheeks tinted pink. “doesn't matter. just, use your tongue on both, switch it up.” he nods, taking his wet tongue out and slowly nudging your clit with it. you take a deep breath, the stimulation already good.

he gives kitty licks to the nub before wrapping his lips around it, sucking softly. you gasp, gripping his hair. “like that.. good.” he nods, happy with his progress as he sucks on the clit more harshly.

you cuss under your breath, moaning quietly. “down there too..” riki quickly moves his tongue down to your sopping wet hole, licking it. “like that.. put your tongue in.” he obliges, sticking his tongue inside hesitantly as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

the double stimulation makes your toes curl, wrapping your thighs around his head and squeezing him in place. “s-so good..”

riki hums, the vibration going straight to your core. he sucks on your clit, prodding his midle finger at your gushing hole. you moan his name, already feeling an orgasm coming, the whole situation turning you on. riki looks up at you, wanting you to feel good and wanting to learn.

he pulls away from your clit for a second, chin glistening with your juices. “am.. am i doing okay?” you nod, tugging his head back down to continue.

riki doesn't complain, sucking on your clit and softly sticking a finger into your hole. he moans against you, your warm walls engulfing his long finger. he pumps it in and out slowly, curling it at the spongy spot that he heard feels good.

“shit.. im so close, don't stop.” riki nods, adding a second finger inside as his tongue continues working on your puffy clit.

he curls his fingers, forcing them deep inside to feel all your good spots. unexpectedly, he sticks his tongue inside with his fingers, making you cum quickly.

“cumming!” you announce, your thighs squeezing around his head as he doesn't stop, riding out your orgasm. after a couple of seconds of you panting, you look down at him.

“mm.. enough now.” he doesn't pull away, lapping away at your cunt as his fingers slam inside you. you yelp at the over stimulation, squirming on the bed.

riki is too pussy drunk to care, slurping your cum away like he hasn't had a meal in a good while. he pulls his fingers out, pinching your clit and receiving a squeal from you.

he digs his tongue deeper into your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. you notice how his hips rut against the mattress, a bulge forming in his tight boxers, hidden away in his grey sweats.

you feel another orgasm coming, groaning in pleasure and pain. “fuck.. im gonna cum again.” he hums happily, looking up at you and making eye contact as he sucks on your clit.

the visual makes you squirt on his tongue, your cum dripping down his nose, lips and chin. you moan loudly, shaking more than before.

riki licks your release up, kissing your clit softly. you force his head away, not able to take three sudden orgasms. “too much..” you pant, closing your legs. he sits up, looking at you with wide eyes, your cum shiny on his mouth.

“was i good?” he asks, hoping to receive praise.

you sigh, patting his head. "yeah yeah, clean yourself up." he wipes his chin and lays down next to you. “that was fun.” you sigh, humming in agreement and tiredness.

“i need a nap. you're crazy.” he snickers, watching you fall asleep. as you drift off, riki asks.

“can you teach me how to have sex next time?”

[innerfare]

Fingering You - Part 1 

Summary: you already know from the title

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // fingering, bondage, mentions of oral sex, penetrative sex, and slight anal, mentions of creampies, dirty talk, Daddy Zoro, Mean Dom Kid

——— 

Luffy: 

The hardest part about fingering you is not going down on you. It’s quite rare that he sticks his fingers between your legs without lapping at your folds mere seconds later. But on the occasions he does simply finger you, it’s to tease you. There’s a part of you that’s always hoping this side of Luffy doesn’t come out, and there’s another part of you that’s always hoping it does, the side that throws you on the bed, ties you up face down, and slides his finger up and down your aching cunt, from clit to ass, telling you how his favorite thing in the world is when you cum but refusing to let you do so, only ever slipping one finger inside you at a time and always pulling it out when you start to clench around him. When Luffy decides to finger you, it’s a long night. 

Zoro: 

Daddy Zoro fingers you for your own good. At least, that’s what he tells you. He’ll never admit that sticking just his pinky finger into your little hole and feeling the tightness around his smallest digit makes his cock throb harder than it ever has before. He’ll never admit it’s the first thing he thinks about in the morning, before even thinking about getting himself off. He’ll definitely never admit that he now gets hard when he eats and gets sauce on his fingers because it reminds him of your desperate princess cunt. He’ll only ever tell you it’s for your own good. How else is his fat cock going to fit inside you? And if his cock is inside of you, his fingers might just wind up in your mouth. Probably his favorite thing about fingering you is the way he can use his fingers to push his bodily fluids, be it spit or semen, inside of you. 

Sanji: 

He’s the absolute best at fingering you, hands down. He’s almost religious in the way he goes about it, too. After all, his hands are precious to him, and so is your pussy. Putting the two together is a spiritual experience as far as he’s concerned. He takes it very seriously, always making sure whatever door the two of you are behind is locked, and taking plenty of time to kiss you like you deserve and worshipping your tits. He can work you to the brink of orgasm just by playing with your nipples, though he’s never content just to do that. The first time he slipped his hand into your panties, he came in his pants, and though he’s managed to build up a resistance since then, there’s still nothing better than sliding his fingers into your cunt and feeling you melt into him, especially considering he can focus solely on your pleasure when he does. 

Ace: 

Fire Fist Ace has one filthy mouth. Everyone knows it. Even for a pirate, he’s notorious. When the Whitebeard Pirates make port, the girls are always gossiping about what the handsome young pirate said to them after a bottle of sake and some heavy kisses. But only you know the true depths of it. He’s always throwing his weight around, pinning you against a wall or down on the mattress, crowing you with those broad shoulders and that big chest, pushing your legs apart and shoving first one, then two long, thick fingers into your tight pussy, his hot lips on your ear the entire time telling you that your pussy is his, that he’s the only one who gets to touch your cute little clit, that when he makes you cum (and he most certainly will), you’re going to get on your knees and thank him properly. And that you do, night after night, the two of you always fucking for the final round (or two). 

Sabo: 

How many times has he slipped his hands under your skirt and gotten you off when there’s someone nearby or within earshot? Neither of you have any idea because it happens so often. He pushes two fingers right into you and thumbs your clit every time, working an orgasm out of you like it’s nothing, biting his lip as he studies the flush that appears on your face and often brushing you off if you try to reciprocate the pleasure. He always grins when you give him that panicked look that says you’re about to cum and you’re worried someone might hear, his favorite part being the way you hang onto him as you do as if he’s going to protect you. The way you cling to him afterwards as you recover from your orgasm only makes it so much better for him. He’ll never stop doing it. 

Law: 

He actually didn’t have a lot of experience when you two first started fooling around, but he his hands were always one area where he felt exceedingly confident. It came naturally to him, rubbing you through your panties until your wetness was soaking through, pushing the fabric to the side to stroke your warm folds, sliding his fingers into your tight hole and promising it’ll be his cock next. It’s like second nature to him, to the point he’ll start doing it without fully realizing. If you sit in his lap, his hands will start creeping up your thighs, and the next thing you know, you’re tossing your head back and holding on for dear life while he fingers you with one hand and squeezes your tits with the other. He gets off to the sense of control it gives him, relishing how he can make you squirm with just a stroke of his thumb and the way you squeal when he jams a finger up your ass. 

Kid: 

Honestly, you need to stop whining. He’s doing you a favor. Yes, somebody might see you completely naked and exposed (he’s still completely clothed, of course) on the deck of the Victoria Punk in broad daylight. And yeah, it’s embarrassing how wet you are, so embarrassing he doesn’t even stop you from hiding your face. But he’s doing you a favor by stuffing his thick fingers in your cunt, stretching you like a cock (a regular sized cock, at least, not a Eustass Kid sized one). He doesn’t even touch your clit until you’re on the brink, and then he thumbs it mercilessly. And don’t think for a second your mean dom boyfriend won’t laugh at you when he pulls his fingers out and finds them coated in your cream, telling you that if you’re that desperate you should follow him back to his cabin to get fucked properly. You don’t hesitate to do it, trailing after him like a puppy. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist �� ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more stained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for. 

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries? 

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex? 

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time? 

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate. 

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan. 

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors. 

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent. 

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner. 

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad. 

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief. 

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend? 

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it. 

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest. 

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice. 

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not? 

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes. 

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit. 

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body. 

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy. 

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you. 

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing. 

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun. 

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks. 

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic? 

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off. 

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut. 

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath. 

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed. 

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box. 

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick. 

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia. 

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits. 

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies. 

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire. 

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out. 

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said. 

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said. 

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?” 

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips. 

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes. 

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser? 

It was impossible. Hopeless.  

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn? 

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release? 

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said. 

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body. 

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro. 

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again. 

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question. 

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said. 

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man. 

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute. 

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. 

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell. 

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them. 

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands. 

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal. 

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it? 

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent. 

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas. 

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside. 

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with. 

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face. 

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring. 

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered. 

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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[shiranuieditorial]

Japanese → English translation of an excerpt from an interview with MUCC lead vocalist Tatsurou (逹瑯):

A: Efforts to maintain relationships can feel somewhat negative, don’t you think? Essentially, it means that someone has to push themselves beyond their limits. I believe that in any relationship, there are moments when we must endure something for the sake of the other person; however, that endurance shouldn’t have to be an unbearable sacrifice. At most, it’s about saying, “I’ll hold back on this part of myself to support this aspect of you,” which is a more positive form of patience.

Q: I think it’s impossible to maintain a balance where everyone endures equally. But why do you think we manage to get so close to that ideal? It doesn’t seem like we’re diligently directing traffic, after all.

A: Indeed, it doesn’t appear that we’re directing traffic. Just… I don’t really understand it well myself, but surprisingly, even when I have to endure or feel stressed about something, I tend to forget it after a night’s sleep (laughs). It doesn’t completely vanish, but I find that I stop caring about it. My anger and frustration don’t last very long. So, I just think, “Well, whatever.” (laughs)

Q: The fact that you possess such a character is what makes you who you are, Tatsurou-san. I feel that this is one of the reasons for MUCC’s natural continuity.

A: I’m not entirely sure about myself; however, if I were the type who bottled things up and accumulated stress, I might have exploded at one of the other members at some point. If there had been even one member like that, things might have been different; but in reality, I see up close how everyone else is also struggling silently and doing their best without saying anything. For instance—Miya has an immense workload in terms of music, so, I imagine he must be going through a lot as well. Thus, even if there are moments when I think, “Wow!” I also think, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Because of this understanding, I don’t feel the need to complain.

Q: All four of you share a positive sense of “It can’t be helped” towards each other. Moreover, the parts where you play “MUCC’s Tatsurou” or “MUCC’s Miya” are quite minimal.

A: Yes. Also, for example, in the case of vocalists from other bands, they might have many invisible tasks to handle; however, in my case, I don’t often think “It’s unfair that I’m doing all the work while everyone else is slacking off.” Since I chose this position, I think it can’t be helped. Ultimately, despite everything, I believe we maintain a balance. When watching the rhythm section during individual practice before recording sessions, they seem to be under considerable pressure; they start recording much earlier than me and need to prepare quickly. Seeing everyone creating backing tracks in the studio looks incredibly demanding; plus, since our leader can be quite strict, they’re probably feeling overwhelmed (laughs). Of course, my own lyric writing can also become quite demanding later on; however, in that sense, everyone experiences similar levels of hardship. It feels like everything balances out in some way.

Image alt text for the original Japanese article:

係を保つための努力って、なんかネガティブじゃないです��。 それはつまり誰かが無理をするってことだし。 お互い、人間関係のためになにかしらの我慢をする部分というのはあると思うけど、それは我慢しきれない我慢ではないというか。 せいぜいそれは「相手のこういうところを立ててあげるために、自分のここは我慢よう」みたいなポジティブな我慢じゃないかと思うから。

———全員が公平に我慢する、というバランスを保つことも不可能だと思うんです。 だけどそれにすごく近いことができているのはなぜだと思います？ 一生懸命に交通整理しているようにも見えないし。

たしかに交通整理はしてないですね。 ただ。 。 。 。 。 。 よくわかんないけど、俺ね、意外と、我慢したりとか、ストレスたまるようなことがあっても、ひと晚経つと忘れちゃうんですよ（笑）。 ホントにきれいに消えちゃうわけじゃないんだけど、どうでも良くなってしまう。 怒りとかモヤモヤとかが、そんなに持続しないんで。 だから、ま、いいやって（笑）。

———その性格の持ち主が達瑯さんである、ということ。 それがムックの自然な継続の一因でもあるような気がします。

自分ではよくわかんないけど。 ただ、俺が結構我慢しちゃってストレスをため込むようなタイプだったりしたら、それが爆発したときにメンバーの誰かにあたってたかもしれないとは思う。 俺にかぎらず、1人でもそういうメンバーがいたら違ってたかもしれない。 だけど実際には「こいつも大变なのに、なにも言わずにがんばってるしなあ」というのを間近で見てるから。 それこそミヤも音楽的な意味での仕事量がすごく多いから、大变だろうなと思うし。 だからなんか「うわっ！」う思うことがあったとしても「ま、しょうがねえか」う思うし。 そこで文句を言おうとも思わないから、別に。

———4人全員がお互いに対してポジティブな意味での「しようがない」という感情を持っている。 しかも「ムックの達瑯」とか「ムックのミヤ」というものを演じている部分がきわめて小さいというか。

うん。 あと、たとえばほかのバンドのボーカルの場合、目に見えない仕事が多いんじゃないかと思うんですよ。 だけど俺の場合「俺ばっか仕事で、みんなズルいよ」と思うこともそんなにないし。 このポジションを選んだ以上、しょうがないと思うし。 やっぱ、なんだかんだでバランスがとれてると思うんですよね。 リズム隊とかを見てても、レコーディング前の個人練習とかで詰めてるのを見てると、やっぱり大变そうだなあとか思うし。やっぱ俺なんかよりもみんな、ずっと早くからレコーディングがはじまるわけで、準備にも早く取りかからないといけないわけで。みんながスタジオでオケ作ったりしてるのを見てると、いかにも大变そうだし、しかもリーダーがスパルタだから、ヒーヒー言ってる部分もあるし（笑）。ま、俺も俺で作詞とかがあとから大变だったりはするんだけど、そういう意味では、ある種みんな同程度にしんどいというか、帳尻が合ってるというか。そういうところも確実にあるんで。

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[quarterlifekitty]

I’m obsessed with your selectively mute reader with soap and ghost🥹not sure this gives you any inspiration to write more but what if reader finally says something else to him after some sort of misunderstanding whereby soap thinks he may have scared her away (for being too desperate or something) and she reassures him with the help of ghost that she’s still very much into him. Plz ignore if this is shite

😭 I will not ignore this is not shite and in fact…. I am in love with you

Soap loses sight of himself a little after a long deployment. He comes home with Ghost (he practically lives with you two anyways). You give them both a little wave and a smile before turning back to what you’re tending at the stove. A gentle hi being heard between the sizzling of peppers in the pan.

Ghost heads straight for the bathroom— he likes to basically scrub himself with scalding water before touching you after a deployment.

“Our bonnie,” Soap purrs, coming up behind you to embrace you, unthinkingly putting his face in the nape of your neck. He bites a little, just gently, at your pulse— just to feel the blood thrum beneath the skin. His hands splay themselves on your stomach, snaking beneath your shirt. A sudden pop of oil makes him remember himself.

“I— I shouldnnae done that. Shoulda’ asked you and… Without LT here, I—“ he blusters. Walks off before you have a chance to reach out.

Sits himself out back on the porch like he’s put himself in the doghouse. He knows your boundaries are delicate, and he went and acted like you were his. When you hadn’t talked about anything like that. Hell, you barely talk to him. He gets into his own mind, thinking maybe he needs to stop inserting himself into whatever good thing you and Simon have going— fuck, how could he have felt so entitled to you?

He’s brought from his brooding when Simon steps out the back door. He makes sound on purpose, wanting to be noticed. You poke your head out and follow suit after a few moments.

“Birdie n’ I got somethin’ we wanna tell you, Johnny.” Soap’s life is flashing before his eyes. The best thing he had going for him— and he’s fucked it.

“Don’t go,” you say impulsively, before catching yourself and pausing. You rehearse the line you wanted a few more times internally before it comes out. “We… want you to be with us. Please?”

Ghost keeps a hand at your back while you wrap your arms around Johnny.

“Go on, mate. Don’t keep us waitin’.”

Soap’s snapped out of his stupor. Pulls Simon in— gentle enough that the slightest resistance would stop it from working, and wraps his arms around you both.

“Hen, Si…. You kiddin’? I’ve been yours. And I’ll still be, for as long and ye can stand it.”

[mercurycft]

𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 — 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐂

## reader x awfc !!

hi all!! finally releasing this, which is in honour of jonas finally pissing off away from our girls and our team! i hope you enjoy! love always, RGx

warnings: angsty team x management arguments, mentions of mental health!

3.6k words.

“i’m sure the team will be buzzing with joy this evening after tonight’s win, but how are the girls and yourself taking the recent and surprising departure of a lifelong gunner?”

“yeah, as you said we’re all pleased with the result tonight - it was a great match with a good side and i think the score reflects the determination we took onto the pitch with us.” you watch as beth pauses, like she is searching for words that will do her feelings justice. “she was the best of us, not just the team but the best of us and our friends. i think she was and is destined for great things, but life and people unfortunately happened to get in the way. but i’m happy, we’re all, happy for her.”

you've known beth long enough to know when she is lying and it pains you to realise how the tone of her voice drops at the mention of you. it stings momentarily, but you shake it off and allow pride to take over you as the camera pans to the rest of the team taking their victory lap.

you find yourself smiling absentmindedly at your phone, having sat through the entire match with your eyes glued to your phone - watching your girls on the pitch from your home, instead of beside them for the first time in years. your stomach filled with a cocktail of emotions that you can’t seem to process at this very moment. a toxic mixture of sadness and despair, twisted and twined with anger and hatred for what the situation had become.

its been two weeks since your statement went out, three since you made the decision and four since the argument. in an ideal world, it wouldn’t have gone this way - you would’ve stomached your feelings for longer and swallowed your bubbling anger, bit your tongue and carried on as usual. but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

------

1 month ago.

a 3-0 win should be celebrated. it should fill you with joy and overwhelming excitement - but it doesn't. instead, it fills you with nothing but anger and resentment for the club you once loved, you used to love. in place of congratulations and pats on the back, is a lecture. a plethora of critiques and corrections despite the effort and conviction everyone had shown.

you and the rest of the girls stand huddled in a group in the locker room, stood in an agonising silence. your hair is still wet, from the sickly british rain that decided to visit, your face still tinted red and your chest still heaving.

you tune out to jonas' voice, watching absentmindedly as he paces ahead of the group - volume above his usual decibel as he tears into the group, pushing further and further. you don't listen, allowing your mind to wander. no one dares talk back, instead choosing to take his words. you, however, fail to be as nonchalant as them - swallowing the bubble of anger in your throat and biting your tongue to the best of your ability.

your mind is brought back into the tiled room at the snap of your name from the front of the group. you look up to be met with jonas' eyes on you - his eyebrows raised and seemingly awaiting an answer. "what?" you mumble through gritted teeth, eyes locked on his.

"do you care to fill the rest of us in on what is so important besides my feedback right now?"

you shake your head, matched with a sarcastic looking, sickly-sweet smile and lift your hand top gesture towards him. "oh please, carry on."

"i dont appreciate your attitude," he quips back, screwing his facial features together, feining disgust.

"whatever," you scoff, rolling your eyes and peeling yourself away from the bodies beside you - now overly aware of their eyes on you.

"i'm out." pause. "i'm going to leave, and have a glass of wine and celebrate a fucking win." you turn away from them, too busy to take off your kit and instead scrunching your clothes and belongings into your kit bag. "which by the way, is what we should all be doing! instead of standing here taking shit because he didn't like how we were moving on the pitch!"

there was a shift from him, and a deep red tint crept up his neck as he shot daggers at you from across the tiles. “i do everything for this team! maybe once in a while, it would be nice for you to do the same if you think you know better! please, do tell us, what makes you think you have done anything of significance for this team? for arsenal!”

it changed, then. the small shred of sympathy you had, the small shred of guilt - gone. ripped from inside you and splattered across the walls of your home stadium locker room. the girls around you seemed shocked at his words, confused and unsure of what to expect next.

you paused. taking a deep breath and halting your shoving of clothes and shoes into your bag, and turning to face him directly through the sea of red and white kits in front of you.

“what do i do, for this team?” the question sounded almost broken, like you couldn’t actually believe he was playing this card. you searched for the answer deep within yourself for a few seconds, allowing the hurt to build in your throat and fuel the fire burning deep behind your eyes and in the pit of your stomach. your eyes flicked over each of the faces now looking at you and a small smile teased at the corners of your lips as you looked at their concerned expressions.

after a few more moments of silence, you inhaled deeply and began. “i’ve given my life, to this club. to this team. i put in the work, i trained day and night in the academy, until i was enough for the senior team. and when i made it here, i made a difference. i stepped up when kim was out, when leah was out. when laura first moved here, i took her in.” you paused, taking another shaky breath, cautious of the tears held back by nothing more than your water line. “i don’t expect you to give a shit. but whilst you were too busy tearing this team down. katie for her aggression, kim for her captaining style, leah for her rehabilitation, viv for her performance, beth for her drive, lia for training hours and every other fucking player in this building. i was building them back up, i was trying to make this right.”

silence fell over the room, and you shook your head. “im done.” you all but whispered, slinging your bag over your shoulder and moving towards the large doors leading away from the locker room. “i can’t do this anymore, this club is my home - and i will not watch you tear it down.” you shoved the door, a single teare slipping down your cheek the second you heard the door swing back on its latch and close again. you didn't stop to say goodbye to the familiar faces in the building, instead, with your head down and focused on the floor beneath you - you walked straight into the carpark, got into your car and drove home.

as you drove away, the weight of your decision settled in your chest. you couldn't believe it had come to this, that you had walked away from the team you had poured your heart and soul into. all the emotions you had been burying for weeks and weeks on end were now uncontrollable, tears streaming as you contemplated your actions but you knew you couldn't bear to stay in an environment where your efforts were belittled and unappreciated.

after a 40 minute drive, you found solace and refuge in the familiar walls of your apartment. the silence enveloped you as you sank onto the sofa, reaching for your phone. you hestitated in pulling it out of your bag, unsure of what may be waiting for you when you unlock it.

but still, you did, heaving a deep breath when your screen lit up with a message from beth. her words expressing concern and confusion about what had transpired in the locker room. as you read beth's message, a mix of emotions washed over you - relief that someone cared enough to reach out, but also a pang of guilt for leaving without saying a proper goodbye. to her, to any of the girls in the room. you quickly typed out a response, skipping over the details of your motives - instead opting for a light hearted message, apologising for your abrupt exit and apologising for not controlling your temper.

minutes turned into hours as you sat there, staring at your phone, the weight of your actions heavy on your shoulders. you hadn’t moved, still sat in your jacket and kit, boots still tied to your feet. the sound of a familiar notification pinged through the room - like it had been doing on repeat since that first message from beth, and you saw more messages popping up from your now ex-teammates.

------

1 week later - 3 weeks ago.

the days blurred into a week as you settled into a routine without the training sessions, team meetings, and the constant thoughts of upcoming matches that used to consume your time. you found freedom in the quiet moments alone, the weight of expectation now lifted off your shoulders, a sense of liberation starting to bloom within you. you finally felt like a person, not just a player.

you had been speaking to the girls everyday, each of them keeping you up to date on life behind the scenes of the club. the drama and tension seemed to have escalated in your absence, with rumors swirling about disputes between jonas and some of the other players. your decision to leave had sent shockwaves through the team, but it also seemed to have sparked a newfound sense of unity among everyone.

it was a miserable london evening when you got your first unexpected visit, darkness just creeping across the clouds when a knock at the door interrupted your law and order binge.

to your surprise, standing on your doorstep was leah, with a hesitant smile on her face.

a flood of questions and uncertainties raced through your mind as you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to say or how to react to her unexpected visit.

"hey," leah began, her voice soft yet laced with underlying tension. "uh, can I come in?"

you hesitated for a moment, the inner turmoil evident on your face as you considered whether to welcome her inside. finally, you stepped back, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow her entry. leah entered cautiously, taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

there was a palpable tension in the air as you both stood in the living room, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. you shared the quiet for a second or two before leah spoke up, her words carefully measured. "i know things have been rough lately... for all of us, you especially, i wanted to come here and talk, clear the air maybe?”

you studied her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was genuine concern etched in the furrow of her brow. with a sigh, you nodded, gesturing towards the couch for her to sit. as she settled on the edge of the cushion, you perched on the arm beside her, like you used to.

"i just... i wanted to say that i'm sorry. sorry for not speaking up before, for not standing by you when things blew up. i let my own fears and doubts cloud my judgment, and i should have been there for you, we all should have been there for you."

her words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the unspoken tension that had plagued your relationship for months. you could sense the sincerity in her voice, the raw vulnerability that she rarely showed to anyone.

“i appreciate it, but it wasn’t your fight, le.”

“your fights are our fights, you’re one of us, you always have been. you always will be”

you gave her a half smile in response, and moved closer to her on the sofa - opening your arms to her. she mirrored your smile, allowing your arms to wrap around her and hers around you.

after a few moments, you pulled away, looking at her directly. “thank you, for coming round. and for looking after me for all these years. but i think,” you paused, sniffling and turning your attention to the fabric of the sofa below you. “i think its time,”

she nodded along with you, taking a deep breath before smiling at you. “if that’s what you want to do, then do it, and we will support you. i promise.”

“i don’t know how to tell the girls, i haven’t seen any of them since i left. i don’t want them to find out through social media,” you rambled.

“we’re all meeting at mine tomorrow, why dont you come along? i know they want to see you, and i think you deserve a night to relax with us - gunner style.” you share a laugh at her comment, agreeing to see the girls. a small shred of anxiety tore through the depths of your stomach, but you shook it off; determined to do the right thing.

the next day seemed to fly by, seeming to disappear from you as you spent the hours doing odd jobs - attempting to distract yourself from the uneasiness gnawing at your insides.

now, you find yourself outside leah’s flat. she said 7, but you underestimated the traffic at this time in this part of the city - so you’re late, as per usual, and composing of yourself on the door step. after a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock.

once, twice, then the door flies open. a smiley young aussie waiting to greet you, her arms immediately around you and pulling you tight to her frame. “jesus, i missed you,” she whispers into your shoulder. “i missed you too, k.” you pull apart and she grabs your hand, pulling you from the now closed door and into the living area. it’s littered with everyone you know and love.

they greet you like nothing has changed, arms wrapped around you and whispers, comments and remarks of support. you slip into the group like you never left.

after you’ve eaten, and have returned to the living area, you stand up - allowing everyone’s eyes to fall on you. you take a deep breath, smiling at them then looking down at your thumbs. you twiddle them and enterlock your hands as you search for the best way to say it.

“i wanted you to hear it from me, that next week, a statement will be released. a statement explaining my temporary contract termination from arsenal. i love you all, like my family. i don’t want any of you to feel like any of this is your fault, but i just feel like i’m at a different point in my life right now - a point where my views, and the clubs managment’s views no longer align. i can’t jeopardise my mental health, for people who can’t seem to put me, or my friends, first.”

you say it in one, your mouth and words moving faster than your brain can comprehend. you finish with a shallow breath, looking up to the group. they take it well, a few of them shedding tears at the offical loss of their friend and teammate, others hugging you and sharing comforting smiles. you know it needs to happen, but this is the part that kills you. leaving behind your family, your people.

the night draws to an end and you begin saying your goodbyes, promising to keep in touch and arranging plans to meet up soon. as you start making your way out of the room and towards the door, kim pulls you aside. you can’t read her expression, a sickening mixture of sadness and happiness for you.

“i’ll miss you,” she says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “but I know you’re doing what’s best for you. just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

you nod, feeling a lump form in your throat as you hug her tightly one last time before heading out the door.

------

1 week later - 2 weeks ago.

3pm. your phone dings with a notification from the arsenal woman’s football club instagram and app, giving you and thousands of others the news of a new and important post. you hover your finger over the notification, hestitating.

you open it eventually, propping your phone up as the video loads onto the screen. you cringe at the sight of you, expectant of whats to come.

“hi gooners, it’s so nice to sit down and speak to you. this year marks my 15th year at arsenal, if we’re taking it all the way back to my first academy scouting when i was 8. i have nothing my fondness and admiration for this club, these people and this community. to be apart of this team and to watch the growth of woman’s football has been an honour and a pleasure i will forever be grateful for. when i think back on my years here, i have nothing but happy memories. memories of friends, of wins and of losses, of meeting fans and selling out stadiums. some of these things we never believed would be possible, but you, every last one of you, have made it possible. after 15 years of my life dedicated to the game, i think it’s time to take a break. temporarily and indefinitely, i will be taking a step back from the club. thank you all for your unwaivering support, it means the world to me. this is a special club, which remains my home. but my health and wellbeing needs to be my number one priority. thank you.”

you watch as the video comes to an end, and the messages, comments and likes begin. you switch off your phone after a few minutes, tucking it under a cushion on your sofa and resuming your show - tuning out the constant buzzing.

------

present day.

you watch until the live recording of the match ends, you watch all of the post-match interviews, with nothing other than a smile on your face. when the stream finally does end, you feel like you can breathe again, switching to your messages app and drafting a text into the groupchat to congratulate the girls on their win. you press send, then abandon your phone beside you somewhere on the sofa. paying it no mind and you lean back into the comfort of the cushions and pillows surrounding you.

as you sink deeper into the softness, you let out a content sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. you close your eyes and let the sounds of the television fade into the background, relishing in the quiet of your own thoughts.

you dozed off, allowing the safety of sleep to engulf you for a few hours. you lay peacefully until the doorbell rings, jolting you awake. you groan in annoyance, wondering who could possibly be bothering you at this hour. you reach for your phone as you stand, 9pm. reluctantly, you shuffle away from the sofa and make your way to the door, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

as you swing open the door, you are met with a pair of familiar faces that brings an instant smile to your lips. beth and viv, stand on your doorstep with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"surprise!" beth exclaims, holding up a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. "we come bearing gifts. can we come in?"

you step aside, allowing them to enter, still slightly taken aback by their unexpected visit. they both breeze past the threshold, only stopping for a moment to give you a hug before making themselves at home on your sofa.

“i didn’t know you were back in london, viv!” you exclaim, watching her set the flowers on the counter. “and shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” you ask beth with a laugh, shutting the door and joining them on the sofa.

“there’s no where we would rather be, mijn liefje.”

its the later end of midnight when you all start to tire, spread across the sofa and floor with eyes barely open and focusing on the movie playing.

“do you guys want to just stay here tonight? i don’t wan’t you driving home tired.” you say through a yawn, stretching your back out and turning to look at the both of them cuddled up beside you. both of their eyes closed and chests rising peacefully. you smile to yourself, moving to grab a blanket from the basket beside you and cover them both up. you switch off the tv, turn off the big light and make your way to your bedroom.

it isn’t long before you’re asleep too.

------

the next morning you wake to a persistant buzzing sound, your phone rattling on your bedside table. notifications from twitter and instagram flood your lockscreen, along with messages from the arsenal groupchat and from distant friends.

your eyes are just barely open when you reach for it, giving your eyes a moment to adjust before looking at the screen. you swing yourself off the bed, feet finding the cold of the floor as you pad through the flat until you find beth and viv.

they’re awake, both sharing the same expression as they look at you in the doorway between the two rooms.

you begin to read from your phone. “we can confirm that jonas eidevall has resigned from his position as head coach of our women’s first team and leaves us with immediate effect.”

[kitab00m101]

Answering based on the main character of my book :)

She doesn't have a bed, she grew up not having one, why start using one now? She just sleeps on whatever patch of floor seems most comfortable.

She is definitely not freind shaped. She has the demeanor of a caution sign, scary/mean looking but just as uneased around you as you feel around her.

She hasn't seen rain yet, but I would think she would enjoy the feeling of it soaking her clothes. Although she wouldn't be able to enjoy the feeling for long, since being cold and wet isn't very healthy for a cold-blooded being.

Shr would look at the rock for a moment before handing it back and asking who died.

I feel like she would play as a paladin just because it's ironic to the role she plays in her own story.

She wouldn't enjoy video games all that much, except maybe mario cart. Not to play, but to watch others play (she likes seeing her friends be competitive)

In the first book, she is seen bullying one of her "cousins" because he is all in all a snot-wad of a person. He pretends to flirt with her, which naturally ticks her off, and he contributes nothing to the family, another thing that ticks her off.

Her first language is English/Latin (she learned them simultaneously as a child). She ends up learning Spanish because her close friends speak it, and she learns a form of sign language used by one of the humanoid species in the books.

She is very talented at cooking meat. Aside from that, she is useless in the kitchen.

She'd go on a tangent about how humans are the reason the war went on for centuries longer than it should have, and how humans are the worst (this is what first book her would say, 2-4 book her is chill with humans)

She is a special subspecies of her kind, that are able to go through monstrous transformations with an excruciatingly painful process. Those like her are only born every 80 years.

She deeply enjoys rock climbing! (Or just climbing in general)

Would she survive a week in the wilderness? Considering she hatched in the middle of the woods and kept herself and her family alive with nothing but a handful of knives for over 20 years, I'd say she'd be just fine.

In book 2 she sees the ocean for the first time. She describes it as a sky of mercury, beautiful but too dangerous to touch.

Because she was living in the woods for most of her life, she was used to being an unhealthy weight. It wasn't until book two that she was let know that being able to see her ribcage for a woman her size was not normal.

Whenever she is facing something that has the ability to get her shaken up, the first person she turns to is her human best freind, the queen of panic attacks and nervous breakdowns. He is always able to help her out.

Most likely, her nightmare would be about her mother's deaths. Or the fires that burnt down the only two homes she's ever known. She hates fire.

Serious answer, one of her loved ones. Joking answer, medium rare ribs.

She doesn't have 3 belongings to keep lmao. She's got her knife and it's sheath, and that's about it.

She's had too many scarring experiences, or moments she regretted to just choose one. Her whole life has been one thing after another, and yet without those experiences, she wouldn't have gotten the blissful ending she has. She can still be traumatized by the awful things that happened to her, and believe she is who she is because of them.

For a long time, she thought that one day some human would just gun her down randomly and that would be the end. As the story goes on, my girl starts to get a serious "immortal" complex.

If she had one day left to live, she would spend it with her found family, the people she went through all this pain for. She would also set aside some time to spend her last moments with her lover, the person she cares most about in the entire universe.

Yet Another OC Ask Game

After hoarding them for months, I decided to make my own. Let’s go from fluffy to angsty, shall we >:)

🛏️ What does your OC’s bed look like? What would they like their bed to look like?

🐁 Capybaras are friend-shaped. What shape does your OC have?

🌧️ What is the favorite thing for you OC to do on a rainy day?

🪨 Someone gifts your OC a shiny rock. What do they do with it?

🐹 Which would be your OCs favorite Pokemon? What kind of trainer would they be?

🎲 If your OC played a pen and paper RPG, what class would they pick? Warrior, mage, thief, ranger, cleric, paladin, druid, necromancer, bard (or other, if that’s not enough).

🎮 If your OC lives or would live in the modern world, would they like video games? What would be their favorite game?

👎 Is there someone your OC can’t stand, despite them being on the same side or sharing basic values?

🌈 Does your OC speak more than one language? If so, how many and which?

🥪 On a scale from ‘burns water’ to ‘5 course menu’ how well can your OC cook?

📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they chose?

🪄 Does your OC have any special powers? If so, are they normal in this OC’s universe?

🎨 Does your OC have any craft skill, as a hobby or profession? If so which?

🌳 Would your OC survive for a week on their own in the wilderness?

🌊 Has your OC ever seen the ocean? If not, do they want to? What do they think of it?

🥞 Does your OC take proper care of themselves, like getting enough sleep and eating properly?

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

🌌 If your OC has a nightmare, what’s it most likely about?

🪤 What is one thing that could be used to lure your OC into a trap?

🎒 If your OC had to pick three things of all their belongings to keep, which would they chose?

🕐 Was there ever a time your OC would have given everything to turn back the clock 5 minutes? What happened?

🎭 What is the one thing your OC regrets most? Would they undo it, considering how their life turned out?

🔪 What does your OC think how they’ll die? 

📅 If your OC had one day left to live, how would they spend it?

[fastandcarlos]

Little Boy Growing Up : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you can't contain your emotions as your son attends nursery for the very first time

As the car came to a stop, a lump ran down your throat as you studied the building that you had toured a couple of weeks ago. Next to you, Daniel was just as nervous, knowing what was about to come, not quite sure he was fully prepared for it. 

“Shall we go in?” You smiled, turning back in your seat to look at your son. “This is the place where you’re going to be staying today sweetheart.” 

“Let’s go!” Your son cheered, hurrying to get out of the car. 

Daniel climbed out and walked around to help him get out, unfastening her seatbelt and lifting him out of her seat. “I can’t believe my baby boy is growing up.” 

“Daniel,” you chuckled, climbing out of the car too and giving your son a hug. “He’s only going to nursery, he’s not going to prom or anything just yet.” 

Since you agreed to start taking your son to nursery, Daniel had been relatively calm. But now that he was here, he was struggling to contain his emotion and not let it get the better of him. 

“Baby,” you whispered, pulling your son closer to you. “Do you think you could go and give daddy a really big squeeze, I think he’d love that right now.” 

Your son did as you asked, sprinting over to Daniel and leaping into his arms. “Are you excited?” Daniel asked him, forcing a smile onto his face. “What am I going to do without you by my side today?” 

“You’ll have fun too,” your son assured him. 

Your eyes were drawn to the tight hold that Daniel had on him, refusing to let him go. “Come on, we can’t stand out in the car park all day,” you tried to tell them both. 

Daniel reluctantly let your son go as you took his hand, Daniel deciding it was best for him to wait in the car. A member of nursery staff was immediately at the door with a warm smile, especially as she saw how excited your son was. 

“Hi sweet boy,” she chimed, kneeling down so that she was at his height. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” 

Your mouth opened to say goodbye, but your son was already off and beginning to explore the place. You handed his bag over, standing in astonishment at how easily he took to nursery, quickly finding the toys that he liked and talking to the other children who were with them playing. 

“It’s nice not to deal with tears for once,” the staff member joked. “I’ll make sure to keep an extra close eye on him today and see how he settles in. If we have any problems, I’ll make sure to give you a call.” 

You waved goodbye before heading back across to the car. As you opened the door, Daniel quickly wiped underneath both of his eyes before smiling across at you. 

“Everything good?” You asked, watching Daniel closely. His head nodded, but the look on his face told you a completely different story.  

You stayed still for a moment before reaching across and taking a hold of Daniel’s hand, silently reminding him that you were right there with him. 

“I didn’t think I’d find this so hard,” he admitted in a whisper, “especially as he’s found it all so easy.” 

“It’s nice to know he’s excited,” you responded. 

Daniel hummed in agreement, “I’m glad that he was looking forward to this, I guess I just wasn’t looking forward to losing him.” 

“You’ve not lost him Daniel, you’ll see him in seven hours.” 

The two of them had always been undeniably close, when Daniel was home every second was spent with your son, hanging out, doing whatever they wanted to do, making as many memories together as possible. 

Daniel had worked hard on preparing your son for nursery, prepping him with skills, conversation starters and teaching him about sharing too. Daniel wanted his son to be liked, he knew that he would be popular, he was a mini Daniel after all. 

Your hand squeezed against Daniel’s tightly, “I bet he would want for us to enjoy ourselves whilst he’s at nursery you know Daniel.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe I have to spend my day with you now, can’t I go and get him back and hang out with him instead?” 

“Excuse me, we’ll have a great time together.” 

Daniel’s eyes rolled as you hit against his arm, encouraging him to put his foot down and get driving. You knew that he was only messing with you, but at the same time, you knew no one could fill the void that your son left in his life when he wasn’t around. 

“He’s going to learn a lot being at nursery, he’ll grow as a person,” you told Daniel. 

“There’s plenty that I could teach him though,” he argued. 

Your head shook as Daniel continued to protest. Although he had taught your son plenty, there were some things in life that a parent couldn’t teach their child. 

“He’s going to be around kids his own age, not around stinky drivers who are sweaty and gross,” you teased, “and it means we get more time together too.” 

Daniel’s eyes narrowed back across at you, “there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with racing drivers, we actually happen to be pretty cool guys.” 

“I know, I was stupid enough to marry one of them.” 

As the two of you pulled out from the nursery, you could see Daniel arguing with himself. There was a small part of him that wanted to run in and take your son, but he knew that he couldn’t, eventually listening to you and driving away, as much as it killed him. 

Despite his protests, Daniel knew that nursery was going to be good for your son, it was a chance for him to see more, do more, meet new people, everything that Daniel had ever wanted for him.  

After a few minutes he began to relax again, leaning back in his chair as he focused on the road, trying to forget about the fact that he had lost his little man for a few hours. 

“What are we going to do now that it’s just the two of us?” You asked him. 

Daniel’s eyes flickered across to you, “well, seeing as I’ve essentially just lost a child, there’s a bit of a void in my life now that needs to be filled.” 

“You’ve not lost your child, he’s just growing up, that’s what we all do Daniel.” 

His shoulders shrugged, but still his eyes looked suggestively across at you. Now that your son was growing up, the two of you had more time on your hands again, and Daniel definitely wasn’t happy just settling on having one child. 

“We’ve been blessed with one incredible child; would it be so bad if we thought about another one?” Daniel quizzed, offering you a wide smile. “Doesn’t now seem like the perfect time to start thinking about these things, like you said, we’re not getting any younger.” 

“How long have you been planning this?” You chuckled, shaking your head across at him. “We’ve just said goodbye to one child for the day and now you’re planning the next one.” 

Daniel’s shoulders shrugged, an innocent expression etched upon his face. “I’m not necessarily thinking about having a child straight away, but it’s important that we get lots of practice in for it beforehand.” 

“Is that really where your mind is at? You’re impossible sometimes Daniel Ricciardo.” 

“Hey, look at you! Can you blame me?” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[fictionismyreality3]

Not Going Anywhere

Warnings: romance and every that comes with it, SMUT SMUTTY SMUT, daddy kink

Notes: you know who you are babes 💕💖

Your initial meeting with John Price had been embarrasing. A broken heel and a sewer grate in front of a military base didn't exactly make the best combination. But he had been a gentleman.

The offending shoe had been rescued and you left with a number and a new contact in your phone, one that he'd insisted on creating himself. One date turned to two, and soon you found yourself moving in with him months later. Domestic bliss was a good way to put it.

Still, even after 8 months, there was a lingering voice in the back of your head. Bitter, cruel, it spoke to you in whispers as you laid in bed, watching John’s sleeping face. It churned in the back of your mind, stirring that old, sour feeling you'd tried to contain in the corner of your brain. No matter how many times John consoled you, murmuring praises in your ear, worshipping your soft heart and soft body, the scab on your old insecurities remained.

And you couldn't help but pick at it.

Call it self-sabotage, but you curled in on yourself anytime you saw what you thought was a better, prettier version of you. Despite the glares John would send to the bubbly young waitresses who batted their eyes at him, you couldn't help but wonder why his arm was around you. Why did he stay with you?

He saw the doubt in your eyes, but he loved you. And he would prove it over and over again.

“Luv, I tell you every time. Get whatever y’want.”

Staring down at the menu, your eyes darted from the salad to the bacon slathered burger you wanted to order. The perky waitress stared down at you, an impatient grin plastered on her face. She twirled her hair, eying John while she kept tap, tap, tapping her stupid pen on her note pad.

"I'd like a-"

"We have really great salads, you know."

Fucking bitch.

"No, I think I'll take the-" The blonde ignored you as you opened your mouth, chattering on. "Just cause, you know.. you look like you could use it." She smiled.

John's gaze flickered up at that, a glower on his face. Suddenly, the menu was no longer very interesting.

"She'll have the fuckin' burger." The waitress paled, his harsh tone standing out in the air of the fancy restaurant.

"You'd know tha' if you actually let her fuckin' speak."

John saw it in the way that you carried yourself. The tight-lipped smile that you so often wore, expecting to fade into the shadows, unseen and unobserved. So he made sure to keep you in his sights at all times.

He was used to having eyes on him, year after year being the one people looked up to, the person people sought out if there was a problem. He was used to being seen. And he was comfortable with it, more comfortable than you could ever be. John saw the way you shrank yourself, wanting to rip his hair out any time somebody made you feel smaller. You were something made to be worshipped. People would be singing praises and scraping their knees in reverence if he had any say.

But you'd kill him if he put you in the spotlight.

The jangling of the doorknob had his head snapping up. Almost dropping the dishtowel he was holding into the frying pan, he scrambled over to the door.

His cock stirred in his pants at the sight of you. Messy hair, messy eyes, messy face. Your water bottle, keys, wallet, and scrunchie all held precariously in one had. God, he could forget the whole dinner and just take you then and there in the hallway of your apartment building. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd tried. Huffing out a breath, the thought was shaken from his head. Later.

Later.

"John?" The cute, bashful grin he was sporting let you know he was up to no good. "What's going on?"

Purse taken and set aside, your coat followed suit as his large hands guided you by the hips into the living room. Flickering candlelight painted the walls, a spread straight out of a Martha Stewart catalogue decorated the table.

"Thought I'd give you a little suprise, luv."

John held his breath. Was it too much? Should he have gotten a strawberry cake instead of chocolate? Did you still like red wine? Maybe it was too much. He could put it all away and just set up a movie. He could-

"You did all this for me?"

"I.. yeah, luvie." Your voice cracking had his heart squeezing in alarm, but the curl of your lip made him feel a little better about putting a foot wrong. "Is.. s'that okay?" Tentative. Unsure of himself for the first time in his life. He would let you take the lead, decide how much of yourself you wanted to bare to him.

"It's perfect, John." Cracked hearts sewn together. "It's perfect."

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

"Tha's it." John crooned. "Cum f'me one more time, birdie."

He'd said just one more two orgasms ago. Tumbling into bed had been a very good, and bad idea. Now he was splitting you open with his fingers, scissoring them inside of you with an expert touch. The sheets had long been soaked with your sweetness, the sight of you breathless and drooling permanently ingrained in John's brain.

Curling his thick fingers to hit that delicious spot that had you squealing, John revelled in the sounds you were making, groaning out his own pleasure as he watched you fall apart all over again.

You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Vaguely, in some all too cognizant part of your mind, you recall begging John to let you take care of him. The plea had been shot down so fast you wondered if you'd gotten a syllable out before he was nose deep in your pussy, eating you out like his very life depended on it. That seemed like forever ago.

"Where y'goin, hmm, sweet girl?" You blinked up at John, trying to focus through the searing pleasure. "You still with me?"

"Yeah."

Taking that as confirmation enough, Price wrapped his hands around the softness of your thighs, lifting them up and pressing them back so your knees were beside your ears. His eyes softened, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking just under the curls of your eyelashes.

"Gonna make y'feel good now, okay, little one?"

Slowly, torturously, John split you open with his cock. Inch by inch, he bullied his way in, your walls clenching and fluttering around him like you were made to take his girth. Hushing your hissed whimpers, his lips left a lingering kiss to your forehead. And then he was pitching foreward without warning.

"J-John-"

All of him, right to the back of you so you could feel him in your throat. His eyes were glued to where your already cutely plush stomach rounded from the size of him. Pupils blown out, he reached down to touched where your tummy bulged with each thrust. Rushing into his head like a runaway train, the thought of making you plump and round with his baby had his hips stuttering.

'No, not John, sweetie." Heavy balls slapped your skin, John leaning foreward you nip at your neck. "Y'know my name."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Daddy, p-please."

"Gonna make you a mama, huh?" A rough finger circled your clit.

"Gonna fill you up nice an' round with my kids." His head was spinnning.

"Fuckin' breed you-" John's cock twitched inside of you, his jaw hanging open as he panted in your ear.

"Cum in me." You squealed. "Cum in me, daddy! Please-"

Snap.

Growling out a curse, John's cock slammed into you with a pace so brutal, so deep you thought you might just pass out. His hands pushed your thighs down further, streching you, molding you into the perfect position to take his cum.

"Cum on this cock, baby." The blooming heat in your cunt grew to an inferno. "Cum 'round daddy's cock."

His hand tangled in your hair as you pulsed around him, screaming and twitching as he worked you through the most mind-melting orgasm of your life. Toes curling, your eyes rolled back and you squirted all over his abs, wetness coating him like a permanent brand. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix, cum pumping into your pretty pussy.

Breathless as he pulled you to his chest, he knew he would do anything to keep you like this. Safe. Sure. There would never be a day where you were worrying about being secure in your life, in yourself, not if he could make sure of it.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

i think i’ve rbed this before but idk but i will give you my fall drink that never fails to delight

first step is to make homemade apple cider, but if you wish you can use store bought, just make sure it’s regular spiced cider and not the sparkling kind. but if you have a slow cooker and you can get your hands on enough apples to fill it up, that’s the best. i’ll put my apple cider recipe under a cut.

once you have your apple cider, make sure it’s nice and hot, put it on the stove for a minute if you need to, but put your hot apple cider in your cup. either fill it all the way with cider and use a chai tea bag, or fill it most of the way and use chai concentrate. add caramel syrup (which is even easier to make at home than apple cider and i bet you already have most or all of the ingredients, i’ll put a recipe for that under the cut too). maybe add whip cream or marshmallows or both, if you’re feeling decadent. it’s delicious!!

hot apple cider recipe:

slice up a combination of your fav apples (i use mostly pink ladies, and some granny smiths) and throw them into your slow cooker until it’s full. if you like citrus, you can add a combination of your fav citrus fruits too, peeled and whole. i usually add one lemon, one lime, and one orange, but you can basically do whatever you want, you could probably add different fruit here too like maybe some cranberries or pomegranate seeds/juice.

once your slow cooker is full of apples and whatever other fruit you wanna add, spice it. i usually use a full cinnamon stick or two for my medium sized crockpot, then add my pumpkin pie spice blend and just kinda eyeball it. if you don’t have pumpkin pie spice blend, it usually has, like, cinnamon, allspice, ginger, and nutmeg. use what you have, think gingerbread or pumpkin pie for the flavor profile.

now that you’ve spiced your cider ingredients, fill your slow cooker with water. then set it to low and leave it be for 12 hours. you can stir it once in a while if you want but you don’t even really have to—tbh, i usually prepare it before bed and leave my crockpot to its own devices while i sleep, so you can just let it do its thing if you don’t have time or energy to stir it.

once 12 hours has passed, take a bean/potato masher and mash up your fruit and spices. at this point, your apples should be pretty soft and easy to mash, same with your cinnamon sticks if you used them. do your best to avoid leaving any large chunks of any fruit, you want it to look like apple sauce or something.

when you’re done squishing everything into a sludge, leave it be again for another hour. you could probably even leave it for longer if you really want but it’ll be ready after an hour.

strain it through a cheesecloth, then sweeten with brown sugar to taste. if u want guidance, i usually use 1 cup of brown sugar for the entire medium size crockpot. you can also leave it unsweetened if you prefer it that way or you have friends who like less sweet things or have sugar restrictions and you wanna share with them. you can strain it and sweeten it all at once, or only enough for one cup at a time. it usually takes a long time to strain ime, so if you’re trying to serve it immediately, one cup at a time may be better for you. if you don’t have cheesecloth, you could prolly substitute coffee filters or very very fine mesh, just know that you may get a little pulp in it, especially if you’re using mesh.

serve it up and enjoy!!!!

caramel syrup*:

put 3/4 cup of sugar and 1/2 cup of water together in a pot on the stove. DO NOT STIR. bring to a boil and occasionally SWIRL the pot to combine.

once the water has boiled and the sugar is dissolved, let the sugar water simmer for 15 min or so, until the mixture is a nice golden brown color. while this is simmering, bring another, separate 1/2 cup of water to a boil (so that when you combine it, it won’t splash so much)

once your sugar water has caramelized and turned a nice golden brown, SLOWLY stir in the 1/2 cup of water you boiled separately.

add 1/2 tsp of vanilla extract, stir or swirl to combine, and boom, you’re done!

*if you’re seeing this and this note is still here, this caramel syrup recipe is from memory and i’ve only made it once. i’ll come back later to make sure it’s accurate probably, i just don’t feel like getting up to check my paper copy of the recipe rn. look up a caramel syrup recipe online to be sure of the proportions.

Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water

it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.

[capseycartwright]

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

ao3 link

Buck was driving himself to Eddie’s before he could really even think about it, the autopilot of his brain engaging and getting him behind the wheel, and on the road to his best friend’s house without needing much thought at all. Eddie was who he needed, in that moment – not Maddie, and her sage advice, not Hen, who’d be clever, and logical about it all. No, he needed Eddie. Eddie, who inexplicably opened the front door in his underwear and a pink shirt. Eddie, who let them sit in silence, a playlist churning out eighties rock for a full twenty-three minutes (Buck checked) before Eddie said anything at all. 

“So,” Eddie set his empty drink down, gesturing to Buck for a second. Buck twisted the cap off before he handed it over, adding to the pile on the coffee table. “What happened? You said that you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” 

Buck groaned, the sound loud in the quiet of Eddie’s house. “I was supposed to be,” he slumped back onto the couch. “But then he dumped me.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “He dumped you?”

“He dumped me,” Buck confirmed. “Because I am a deeply unlovable individual who is going to die alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think you might be being dramatic there.”

“I’m not!” Buck protested. “Eddie, everyone I date dumps me – or leaves me. That apparently doesn’t even change when I’m dating a man. It’s not – I thought it would be different, with Tommy.” 

“Because he’s a man?” Eddie’s confusion wasn’t judgemental – no, Eddie never judged him, Buck was sure of that much. It was sincere confusion, his best friend wanting to understand where Buck was coming from.

“Yeah? No? I mean – maybe,” Buck huffed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate himself. “I guess – I guess I just thought that now I know who I am, that I’m like – consciously aware I’m bisexual – it might be different. That maybe it didn’t work out before because there was this part of me that I didn’t know, or understand, and that had affected my relationships because I wasn’t bringing my like, whole self to the table. But if it didn’t work with Tommy, then that’s not why. Right? Then the problem is me.” 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I don’t think the problem is you, Buck.”

“It has to me! I’m the only common denominator here.”

Buck wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down on Eddie’s couch and cry until he had nothing left – and it wasn’t about Tommy, really, because Buck had liked Tommy, but the end of their relationship wasn’t what was making him feel so devastated. It was the idea of Tommy, more than anything else – what Tommy represented. A happily ever after that Buck was falling short of all over again. 

“What did Tommy say, exactly? Maybe – maybe you’re spiralling, and he gave you a good reason that you’re not seeing.” 

“He – I asked him to move in with me.” 

“Buck.”

Eddie sounded long-suffering. Buck had earned that. He knew that much. “I know,” he knew it had been the wrong move. The words were barely out of his mouth, and Buck knew it had been the wrong move – but that was sort of his thing, to cling desperately to relationships that didn’t work because he was so terrified of being alone. “I just – I felt comfortable with him, and the whole Abby thing was weird.”

“Really weird,” Eddie agreed, wincing. 

“But not the kind of weird I couldn’t get past. Right? He came over tonight, and I told him – why be apart when we could be together. Then, he said he couldn’t move in with me, because if he did, I would only break his heart,” Buck sighed. He wouldn’t intend to. That’s what Tommy had said – but who ever planned to break someone’s heart? No one was that cruel. Maybe they were – but Buck wasn’t. He’d never wanted to break anyone’s heart, even if that had been the end result sometimes. 

Eddie was quiet for a second. “Did he say why he thought you’d break his heart?”

Buck’s beer burned his throat as he took another gulp, the sour taste lingering. “He said that he was my first, but he wasn’t my last.” 

read the rest on ao3

[hanniebaeee]

The Wedding

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing other than some shameless flirting and kissing

Genre: arranged marriage, best friends to lovers, flufff

Summary: You and Felix grew up together and are best friends. You both always knew that you'd have an arranged marriage, that's how it always works. But you don't expect to have an arranged marriage with your best friend.

The news hits you like a ton of bricks. Of all the things in the world you expect your parents to say to you, this was never on the list. Your mum is going on about "you and Felix finally being together."

Felix?!

As in, Lee Felix, your best friend, Felix?

The one who let you cheat off his math tests back in high school? Your partner in crime?

Your parents look so happy about this. Your dad is nodding approvingly as your mum goes on about how wonderful this will be, because Felix has always been like her son anyway.

You slip outside once your dad pats your shoulder softly and tells you that he's such a good boy and perfect for you. Pulling out your phone, you call him, your hands trembling. Felix answers after one ring.

“Bro, what’s happening here?” he says, his deep laugh rumbling through the line. Oh, so he knows.

The urge to whack him - again - on calling you "bro" is so strong, but just for this time, you let it slide. But your heart flutters a little because he sounds unexpectedly warm and close…like he’s right next to you.

“Are you… like, okay with this?” you ask, your voice a little shaky.

He pauses, then his voice softens.

“I mean… yeah. I guess. I mean, it's us…better than… you know?” he says, and you just know that he's blushing. You can imagine that soft pink of his cheeks and the perfect dusting of freckles - ok, get a grip!

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He’s right. You knew you would have an arranged marriage at some point. That's how it works in your family, well, your families. But this is Felix. Your Felix.

You meet later that afternoon, in your usual cafe. He's smiling as you approach and take a seat across him. But this time, everything feels different.

“Hello, princess,” he teases, his grin wide as he sits back, eyes trained on you. “Should I start calling you wifey now?”

“Stop it,” you hiss, kicking him under the table, but he only laughs, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, come on, fiancée,” he says, stretching out the word like he’s savoring it. “Aren’t you excited? You get to see this face every morning now.”

He points at himself, giving you a cocky grin.

“You’re ridiculous!” you laugh, lifting your hand to attack him, but he just catches it and holds it.

You freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm his fingers feel against yours, his thumb tracing small circles along your skin.

“Hey, don’t get shy on me now,” he whispers, leaning in just a bit closer. “You've literally been my wifey for so long…?”

Your cheeks are on fire, and you yank your hand back, trying to ignore the way your heart is trying to leap out of your chest.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bro,” you mutter, trying to recover as he just laughs harder.

“Hey, if I’m your fiancé, I better not hear that word coming from your mouth,” he warns, grinning. “Unless you want me to punish you for it.”

“Oh my God! What's up with you all of a sudden?!” You say, totally exasperated with his change. “And besides, it's not like you can just-”

He raises a brow and says, “Try me.”

And that’s when you realize that Felix is actually not just ok with. He's absolutely fucking celebrating this.

A storm of engagement prep begins (immediately), and your mum takes matters into her hands to ensure you look like the world’s most ‘eligible’ bride-to-be. This means you are in and out of boutiques and fittings and stylings and what not. It's a pain.

“Mum, please,” you groan, eyeing that ridiculous necklace she's holding out to you. “Felix doesn’t care if I wear that. He’s seen me looking like a troll! I don't have to-”

“That was before he had to put a ring on your finger in front of every important person in town,” she says, pinning you with that look. “Do you want Felix regretting this before he even says ‘I do’?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Felix wanders in casually, and leans against the doorframe watching you both glare at each other.

“Lixie!” you say, calling him over to settle the debate. “Do you or do you not find me sexy and appealing?”

Your mum’s mouth drops open at your bluntness and she glares daggers at you, but Felix just smirks as he walks over to you.

“Of course I find you sexy and appealing, wifey,” he says, with a shameless wink in your mum’s direction.

You mum sighs before she leaves the rooms, huffing and muttering something about “you two being a lost cause”.

The second the door closes, you give him your best glare. “I told you, stop calling me that.”

Felix just grins, tilting his head and letting his voice drop into a low drawl as he says, “What else would I call my wifey, hmm?”

You feel that little flip in your tummy, and you try to step back, but he only follows, stepping closer.

“FELIX!” you warn, heart racing as he grins, closing the distance between you until his face is dangerously close to yours.

“Where are you going?” he teases, his eyes glinting playfully.

You let out a huff, backpedaling toward the door.

“Outta here,” you say quickly, but he steps forward, his hand braced against the wall next to your head, blocking your way.

“What’s wrong, wifey?” he whispers, voice sultry. “Not scared of me, are you?”

“Please,” you scoff, though your cheeks are burning. “You're so full of yourself.”

“Oh, is that so?” he smirks, looking down at you like he wants to eat you up.

You swallow, eyeing him suspiciously, because what the hell happened to your goofy bestie? But before you start to side step him, he steps back with a satisfied grin, letting you go.

“I came to tell you that we're going ring shopping tomorrow.” He says with a wink. “You, me and mum.”

“Ok, you don't have to kill me for that.” You grumble, as you take the chance to bolt out of the room. You're sure you hear him chuckle behind you, and you can't help but smile.

Ring shopping with Felix and his mum is already more nerve-wracking than you expected. Mummy dearest just wants you to have anything you want. Or everything.

A pair of pretty earrings catch her attention and she floats away to take a look, and Felix sidles up next to you, giving you that smirk of his.

"Just pick whatever you like, Lix,” you tell him, attempting nonchalance as you point to a display case. “It’s just a ring - I really don't mind."

“It should be something you like, don’t you think?” he asks, his eyes never leaving you.

You narrow your eyes at him, flustered.

“Yah, I'll like anything you choose, ok?” you mumble, looking away, hoping that you don't look like a tomato in a dress.

“Of course,” he says, looking through the rings.

You start browsing too, but every time you risk a glance at him, you find him staring at you with that amused smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

“Felix,” you hiss, trying not to stutter. “Will you stop that? You’re distracting me.”

“Sorry babe,” he says, his voice low. “Can’t help it… ”

Your face heats up, and you stumble over your words as you try to regain some dignity. Just then his mum is back, and gives him a little slap on his arm.

“Felix, stop making her uncomfortable.” she scolds, and he just laughs and asks you, “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” You scoff. “I’m two seconds away from shoving these rings down your throat.”

He bursts out laughing and says,“Ah, there’s my girl. Feisty as ever.”

You shoot him a look, desperately trying to fight your smile, and glance over at the rings. You two finally settle on a delicate design - a simple band with a round diamond gleaming in the center.

“Good choice,” he says, his voice unexpectedly soft. “Looks like it was made for you.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you can’t look away from him. There's a warm, unfamiliar feeling stirring in your chest, and it just makes you want to pull him into a hug.

“Well, it’s perfect! Let’s get it.” Felix’s mum claps her hands, calling an end to your ring hunt.

The engagement party is a whirlwind of lights, drinks and an endless stream of guests congratulating you and Felix. The venue is breathtaking - but the heat and attention are a bit overwhelming. Your dress, though gorgeous, is sticking to your body uncomfortably, and it's getting harder and harder to keep your smile up. You feel your anxiety creeping up, ready to take over.

Just when you think you might combust under the pressure, you feel a warm hand slip into yours. You look up to see Felix, and without a word, he tugs you out of the crowd and into the gardens.

Outside, the cool air feels so good on your sweaty skin, and you sigh in relief. Felix leads you to a little bench nestled under a tree, and you see a glass of wine and a plate with a slice of cake he’s swiped from the party. And also a little bottle of water from his pocket.

“Better?” he asks, as he watches you take a sip of the water.

“Much better,” you breathe, grinning. “I was about to go hide under a table.”

He chuckles, leaning back and taking a sip of the wine, his eyes lingering on you.

“Couldn’t let my fiancée be hiding under tables, could I?” he says, nudging your knee with his.

You roll your eyes, laughing. But you catch a glimmer of something softer in his expression, something almost vulnerable.

“So…” he begins, looking away, sounding a bit more serious. “You’re really okay with this? I mean, me? Doing this with me?”

You can tell he’s hiding a bit of worry behind his charm, afraid you’re anxious about being with him. The thought alone makes your heart ache a little, and you reach out, slipping your hand into his. You give his fingers a gentle squeeze and smile softly.

“Felix,” you say, looking him right in the eyes, “I’m so glad it’s you. I really am. I mean, I feel like the luckiest person alive to be marrying my best friend.”

For once, his easy, cocky confidence falters. He blushes, a soft pink covering his cheeks as he looks down, biting his lip. He lets out a small, shy laugh, his fingers tightening around yours.

“I feel the same,” he murmurs, his voice so low, it's barely audible.

Felix wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, tight hug. You let yourself sink into it, your own arms going around his neck. You feel his heartbeat against yours, everything else fading away as you just hold each other.

This feels so good - just the two of you, close, cozy, and warm. But just as you’re starting to relax, you feel his hands begin to wander. It slides a bit too low down your back and you pull back to stare at him, wide eyed.

“Felix!” you whisper-yell, squirming. “Keep your hands to yourself!”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “Can’t a man hug his future wife?”

You try to glare at him, but it’s impossible to keep a straight face as he grins down at you like that.

“If you want to keep all ten of your fingers, you'd be more careful.” you say dryly, letting him pull you in for another quick squeeze before finally letting go. But his arm stays draped around your shoulders, as if he’s not willing to let you go just yet.

If engagement prep was a pain, wedding prep is basically a full-time job. Your days are a blur of dress fittings, cake tastings, and jewelry appointments - and it's totally exhausting.

And if all that wasn’t enough, your mum has taken it upon herself to enforce a strict “no Felix” rule until the wedding. Apparently, she thinks that if you keep hanging out with him, you’ll run out of things to talk about post-wedding. You practically choke on air when she says it.

“Are you serious? He's my best friend! Who am I going to talk to then?” you ask, only to get a very serious look from her.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me when you’ve still got some surprises left.” she says, and you just huff, mentally counting down the hours until you can actually see Felix without her watching you like a hawk.

During dinner with Felix and his family that night, your mum casually drops the news that both sets of parents have planned to gift you and Felix a massive, all-expenses-paid honeymoon.

Felix glances at you from the opposite side of the table, trying not to grin and you do your best not to look at him. And he nudges your foot under the table and you nudge back, until your mum gives you a sharp glare and you quiet down.

Later that night, Felix sneaks over to your room as the parents get busy, and you both sit cross-legged on your bed, a laptop open between you, scrolling through honeymoon destinations. The choices are endless - beach resorts, mountain cabins, historic villas, exotic getaways…

“A beach resort, huh? Imagine you… in one of those little bikinis…all warm and sun-kissed. I suggest a beach resort.” Felix says, leaning into you.

You sigh as you say, “Felix! Shut up! I assure you there won't be any bikinis.”

He laughs and says, “Or what about the mountains? We’ll be all alone in a cozy cabin, we can just get comfy in front of the fire with the snow falling outside… and absolutely nothing else to do all day. Just you know…it's always the cold that -”

He playfully shoves you a little, and you shove him back a little too hard that he falls off the bed and lands on the thick rug with an exaggerated groan, rolling onto his back with a pained look.

Just as you’re about to scold him for being ridiculous, your door creaks open, and your mom walks in, her mouth dropping open at the sight of Felix sprawled on the floor.

“What are you doing?” she screeches, giving you an incredulous look.

You freeze, as if caught committing a crime, as you stutter, “He - Mum, he was asking for it.”

She puts a hand on her hip, shaking her head.

“That’s no way to treat your future husband! Honestly, Y/N, his parents are still downstairs!” she scolds.

Felix, barely containing his laughter, shakes his head.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Y/L/N. She just doesn’t agree with my honeymoon choices, that’s all.” he says, looking like a perfect angel.

You shoot him a glare and say, “That’s because they’re terrible.”

“Oh, really?” he says, smirking as he stands up, brushing himself off. “I just suggested a few exciting options. It’s not my fault you’re so-”

“Felix,” you interrupt, your voice dangerously low, “I swear to God-”

Your mom sighs, looking between the two of you with exasperation. “I have nothing to say to you two. Felix, I need you downstairs in 10 minutes. No excuses.”

“Yes ma'am.” He says, giving her a salute and she leaves, shaking her head.

You let out a sigh of relief, trying to ignore the smug grin on Felix’s face as he plops back on the bed beside you. He's sitting closer now, it feels like he's trying to climb into your lap.

“Alright, love,” you mutter. “We’re not going anywhere with snow. If I’m going to be stuck with you, I’m going to need sunshine.”

He grins and says, “Ah, so you do want to wear the little bikini.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the little shiver of excitement that courses through you. You point to the screen, settling on a gorgeous beach resort with crystal-clear waters and beach cabins.

“Happy?” you ask, trying to ignore the flutter in your heart.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he murmurs, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “I can’t wait.”

The look in his eyes is wicked, leaving you flustered.

The night before the wedding, you’re a wreck. You’re an anxious mess, and every time you close your eyes, all you can think about is the ceremony, the crowd, the vows… and of course, the part where you’re supposed to kiss Felix. In front of a hundred people. For the very first time.

Finally, at the end of your rope, you grab your phone and text Felix.

You: Are you sure about tomorrow? Like sure sure?

He replies almost instantly.

Lix: Why would you even ask me that?! Are you planning on ditching me tomorrow?

Lix: Babe? Y/N don't scare me like that!

You: No! No no no...I'm sorry.

You: I just...I miss you.

There’s no reply, and you regret having texted him. A fresh wave of anxiety hits you, when you hear a sound at your window. You look over, and there he is - Felix, grinning as he climbs in like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Oh my God, you’re insane,” you say, but you’re smiling as you rush over and throw your arms around him, his warmth enveloping you as he holds you tight.

“Can't let you freak out alone, you know,” he murmurs, his voice soft in your ear. “I want you to know that “I’ve never been this happy before. Marrying you… it’s the best thing that could happen to me.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you want to say something equally romantic back, but all you can manage is a soft, “I’m scared.”

His face softens, and he squeezes you a little before asking, “Of me?”

“No,” You sigh. “About everything else. All the people, they'll all be watching us…I'm scared about… kissing you…it's -” You feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed to admit it.

“Ohhh,” he says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “So that’s what’s got you all worked up. The kiss?”

He raises an eyebrow, cupping your cheeks with his hands. “Well, you know, if you need to practice, I’m here to help.”

Your heart jumps into your throat as he gazes at you with so much love and mischief.

“What-”

“Shh, just let it happen, ok?”

He inches closer and you can barely breathe as you meet his gaze. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

And then, he closes the distance, his lips soft and warm against yours. The kiss is gentle at first, so warm and soft, but then he leans in a little closer, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. Your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it.

This is real. This is actually real. You’re kissing Felix - your best friend, your almost-husband. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

When he finally pulls back, he’s smiling.

“Well,” he says, sounding a bit breathless, “consider that practice round one.”

You can’t help but laugh. He gives you one more soft, lingering kiss, and you feel a strange mix of excitement and calm wash over you.

“Tomorrow’s going to be perfect,” he whispers, his lips touching your forehead. “I promise.”

The wedding is a fairytale. A garden venue draped with twinkling fairy lights and flowers. But nothing compares to the way he gazes at you as you walk down the aisle, like he can’t believe this moment was real. The whole day is a dream - except when your mum cries and cries so hard, it makes you cry and it makes Felix cry.

Now, as the two of you step into your new apartment together, just you and him - you feel like your heart might just burst. You’re still in your wedding dress, the delicate lace and silk brushing against your skin as Felix closes the door behind you.

It's so silent and you can’t tell if the excitement or the nerves are stronger, but it feels like your skin is on fire.

Felix catches your gaze, that familiar smirk dancing on his lips, but the way he looks at you is so warm and soft. He takes your hand, leading you into your bedroom.

“Let's get you out of all this,” he murmurs, stepping closer.

You nod, more than happy to be free of it all. You watch him take off his coat, tossing it on the bed.

As you take off your earrings, you feel his hands move to your hair, slowly pulling out the pins that hold it in place, one by one. He’s silent, focused, his every touch so tender. Your hair falls loose, and he lets his fingers comb through it, smiling.

“You looked stunning today,” he says. “I really had to hold myself back so I don't embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

Your cheeks burn as you manage to giggle and say, “You’re such a flirt, Lixie.”

“Only for you, wifey.” His voice dips low, his fingers trailing down to the back of your neck.

Your hands are trembling slightly as he moves to the zipper of your dress, sliding it down slowly. The fabric loosens, and he eases the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool softly at your feet.

“Still nervous?” he whispers, his hands resting on your waist.

You swallow, nodding. “A little.”

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a feather-light kiss to your collarbone. “Just be yourself, yeah? You're perfect.”

You bite your lip, the butterflies in your stomach going wild as he presses a kiss on your cheek, then one just below your jawline. Your hands grip at the fabric of his shirt, crumbling it under your fingers.

“Felix,” you whisper, feeling your face heat up as he teases a line of kisses down your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

And when he finally leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s so tender and achingly sweet, you put your arms around him, sinking into him.

The teasing glint in his eyes turns into something darker and he leans closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw.

"So, Mrs. Lee,” he murmurs, “How’s it feel to finally be mine?”

[heyftinally]

I really appreciate this addition, so thank you :)

I have told a few close friends that I strongly suspect I have ADHD (they have ADHD diagnoses and we all share very similar traits, so it's HIGHLY likely that I'm right), but I also know there's...strong opinions...in disability spaces, both about self diagnosis and about including things like ADHD on disability posts, especially if they started out heavily focused on physical disabilities. I try my best to be considerate of whatever generally considered appropriate/best practice, but I'm often hesitant because I've had a few too many people basically tell me my opinion isn't wanted or I don't have enough knowledge to contribute. Which...I know I don't know everything. I just know myself and my friends. So I generally keep to the tags on disability posts unless someone - like yourself - decides my tags are worth sharing more broadly.

Idk, getting a little personal here on your post, but sometimes I feel like me over here with my fidgets and my food texture aversions and terrible executive function is a far cry from chronic pain, years of fighting doctors, mobility aids, and cocktails of medications just to get through the day. So I don't generally put them on larger community posts, because it just kind of seems...trivial. People are having to contend with getting stared at and whether the hassle of bringing a mobility aid is worth the pain it will save later, and I just toss a small plastic trinket in my pocket, double check my plan, and I'm more or less fine.

So yeah, thank you for your kind words. It was nice to read. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I'm allowed to call my struggles what they are, because they seem so minor compared to what others have to deal with. But it's not a contest, after all.

Local PSA: invisible disability does NOT mean you can live your life like a "normal person" invisible disability meant that if a stranger looks at you in public they wouldn't know what's going on.

Like if a wheelchair user were to decide to run into a corner store to grab a candy bar because they know that their legs can last that long without, the cashier wouldn't know.

Or someone with "mild" scoliosis walking upright through their shoulder leans slightly to the left. Maybe they just have bad posture. The lady in the next isle thinks to herself.

The person with EDS or POTS or whatever sort of condition wearing compression gloves out and about. Perhaps it's a fashion statement?

Or what about the people with intestinal issues? They can look like "normal people" too.

You never know what someone is going through.

You never know what they might need to survive or if they're on the edge of a flare up or even if they are currently going through one just by one look.

I think both disabled and non disabled need to realize this. You're not "no longer disabled" because you can "live without" disability aids. They're there to help you. To make your life easier. If living without a cane is going to make it more likely you'll fall over and hurt yourself, use the cane.

If you need to sit down to do dishes or cut vegetables because you need to save your legs for taking out the trash, sit down.

If you need a shower chair because you don't know if you'll pass out, use the shower chair.

People are going to judge you regardless for multiple reasons out of your control.

I'd rather they judge you while you're being safe.

You don't need to struggle to be "normal."

You can just be you.

However that looks for you.

Use your disability aids.