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pretty-little-mind33 · 13 hours ago

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James Potter x wife!reader

Summary: A dangerous mission puts James's life at risk. You're consumed by worry and fear as you wait for news of what happened to your husband.

Genre: Angst (happy ending)

Warnings: reader and James have a newborn baby (named Harry), mentions of death, murder, blood, violence,

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

The clock reads midnight and still no one has heard from any of them.

You're sitting on the couch, your head in your hands. Lily crouches by your legs, her delicate hands resting on your knee as she rubs soothing circles around them, attempting to match your breathing so she can help you.

Naturally, you have taken this the hardest.

"They'll be alright," Lily whispers as if she can promise you that all will be okay, but her voice is distant.

The only person you can hear is him. His voice rings in your mind, the way he sounds when he says your name, when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

You can feel his hand in yours, the way his lips brushed your cheek, and the only thing you imagine when you look up is the front door opening wide and seeing him walk in, with only a few superficial scratches.

But the door doesn't move and instead, the room is silent.

It's been hours. It was supposed to be quick. That's what James had said when he kissed your head and said you he loved you. He hadn't even said goodbye to the baby.

"It's an easy mission, nothing dangerous—they're probably lost, you know how Sirius is," Marlene says from her side of the room as if that makes any of this better.

"You don't know that," you snap and stand up, pacing the room. You look at your friends, their solemn faces only making this worse. You can't stand their sadness, or even worse their pity. "Just—leave me alone—" your voice comes out hoarse, running up the creaky wooden stairs of you and James's little home in Godric's Hollow.

You hold your breath, turning the corner into the nursery where baby Harry should be sleeping soundly; unaware that his father isn't home.

It's as it should be, you reminded yourself, gently creeping inside. He is just a baby. He shouldn't worry. You'll make sure he never had to worry. You lean over the crib, picking your son up into your arms. He's all bundled up so the movement doesn't wake him.

"Oh, James," you mutter, feeling the warm tears fall but you hold them in for Harry's sake. This wasn't normal. Something felt wrong. "Where are you?" you ask into the darkness of the room, a line of moonlight from outside gently shines onto Harry's sleeping face.

You've always found it fascinating how much he can look like his father at only one years old and you wonder if that will carry on into his childhood.

"He looks like a wrinkled pickle," James had said the day of Harry's birth, his arm wrapped around you as you leaned your sweaty head on his bicep, breathing deeply from exhaustion. Your husband had somehow managed to squeeze himself onto the small hospital cot, his hip pressed against yours as he glanced down at the infant pressed against your bare chest. "Ugly little pickle," he muttered, the lovesick smile on his face betraying his true opinion.

"James," you'd scolded weakly. You're much too exhausted to look up as you keep your baby pressed against your bare breasts, calming him with your breathing.

"You're beautiful, my love," James said, kissing your hairline. "You did so well. So brave and strong."

You laughed, his voice soothing you.

"I just know our little pickle is gonna grow up just as handsome as his dad, ain't that right, bud?" James had teased, talking to the infant as if he could hear him. You rolled your eyes, simply letting the warmth of the two boys you loved the most lull you to sleep.

Harry suddenly begins to stir, his little eyes blinking open and you instantly rock him. "Shh, baby, go back to sleep," you whisper, feeling horrible for waking him up.

Harry doesn't cry. He looks at you in the darkness. He blinks a few times and then as if on cue, begins to wail. It's as if he can sense your sadness and all he can do with the emotion is cry. You feel horrible, sliding against the crib as you sit up, holding Harry up, as you rock him a little harder.

"Oh, please, honey," you plead, holding him against your knees as you touch the little tufts of curly hair on his little forehead. You hope none of your friends hear him and give them a reason to check on you. "Please, my lovely, sleep. It's okay. Daddy will be home soon, okay?"

You say it mostly to calm yourself down, knowing that it will in turn calm your son. You breathe, holding in more tears as you think of James. Where is he? You press a kiss on Harry's head once his cries have ceased.

You aren't sure how much time has passed as you sit on the floor, your eyes tired from crying as your baby sleeps soundly in your arms. The sounds of your friends have drowned into the background. You're having the most horrible dream as you drift to sleep, having cried exhaustion into your body.

James is gone. He's gone and you can't reach him.

You shift, your body unconsciously keeping Harry in your arms as your mind plagues you with horrible images. You can almost feel James's palm on your hand, his breath on your skin as he calls your name.

But he's gone. He's dead.

"My darling," his voice rings in your ears, hoarse and broken. "Wake up." James's calloused fingers touch your cheek, a wetness you don't recognize seeping into your skin and your eyes widen. You're met with James's piercing brown eyes and he forces a strained smile.

"Hi," he whispers.

Without thinking, you sit up through your haze and almost let Harry slip from your arms. Luckily, James scoots closer, trapping you in between his legs as he holds Harry to his chest, supporting your arms too. Harry wakes up again, his sleep schedule severely messed up as he begins to cry again and your heart breaks.

"Hi pickle," James whispers, careful only to touch the outside of Harry's blanket with his bloodied hands. You blink, staring at the awful state your husband is in, which even in the moonlight you can tell he's covered in ash and blood, his face littered insuperficial cuts and bruises— still, he's alive.

"James—" you whimper, touching his cheek gently. "What happened? Where were you? I was worried sick—" You squirm out of his legs and stand, taking Harry from him as you look for your son's favorite pacifier.

Once you've found it, you place it in Harry's mouth and set him back in his crib to fall asleep. You turn, grabbing your wand, and enchanting his crib mobile. Harry seems calmer now and you take James's wrist gently, pulling him out into the hallway.

You'd already disturbed your poor baby enough.

After closing the nursery door, you turn the light on, placing your wand in the back pocket of your jeans as you look him over. His shirt is bloodied and there's a gash, but the wound has been healed. "Remus healed me. We were ambushed—we barely got away and I- they had to heal me before we came home. I wouldn't let him take me home to you in the state I was in," James says.

Tears brim in your eyes.

"But, I'm okay now," he says and lifts his hand as if he wants to hold your cheek but he doesn't since there is still dried blood on his hands. Instead, he smiles at you. "I'm sorry you were so worried. Lily told me you were inconsolable."

You scoff, sniffling as you wrap your arms around his chest. You inhale his scent, holding in more sobs as relief overtakes you. "Of course I was worried, you fool," you pause and sniffle, "I was scared you'd never come home."

James wraps his arms around you. "I will always come home to you and Harry. Always, okay?"

You nod, resting your ear against your chest as you hold him. He sighs and rests his chin on your head, rubbing your back. "I'm gonna take a shower and you should go to bed, I'll tell you everything in the morning, okay?"

You shake your head, holding him tighter. You just want to be close to him. You don't want to let him out of your sight.

James can tell and he kisses your head. "Okay, okay, my love. I'm not going anywhere," he says in a whisper and he sighs, "I never want to be away from you again."

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moodymisty · 3 days ago

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Hello! So, this is based on an ask I sent a little while back, the one about how the reader keeps asking vulkan for various jewellery and basically coordinating it into jewellery lingerie one day, to try and make him snap. May I ask for a little scenario of his reaction, please? Thank you! Have a wonderful day!

Author's note: I ain't gonna just say no to Vulkan like, mmmmm

Relationships: Vulkan/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Size kink, Jewelry, Kind of rough sex but the loving kind, Creampies, breeding kink and tokophobia warning

"Tell me, Master of the Forge," Your smile was wide, teasing; Looking up at him with a mirth he's quite familiar with. "Do you take requests?"

Vulkan laughed, sticking something into the water with a deafening hiss. Steam rises from it- once it's cooled the primarch sets it aside and returns to you his full attention.

"From you? Always, my love."

Vulkan has made you so many things, beautiful pieces of jewelry that glimmer almost unnaturally. He's made you weapons, but he says he prefers not to. He wants to keep you away from such cruelty, and to widen his skillset with delicate little things you love.

"Could you make me an anket? Two, actually, that match?"

He looks at you a bit oddly, before smiling. He reaches for a few things and sets them on the anvil.

"Of course."

Those anklets had been the last pieces you'd needed for what you had in mind, made shortly before he left Nocturne. You stayed, guarded in his home by many of his sons.

Your sons as well soon enough, if Vulkan has his way. Though they already seem to treat you as if that's the case judging by their vehement defense of you and fondness of your guiding words. They're cute, you won't lie.

Putting every piece of jewelry he's made for you on it bathes your body in gold and a gallery of gems both names and not, shining from the dim light you meticulously set up. You glimmer brighter than a stained glass window, a jewel encrusted crown couldn't spit at the feet of how embellished you were in finery.

You know he's finally returned, his men were quite eager to tell you, and after he removes his armor and greets them, his next stop will be you. You need to make sure it's all ready in time, clasping the last of many necklaces around your throat and scurrying to lie in bed.

It takes significant effort to get on the massive mattress, but Vulkan had it lowered off it's frame so the inhumanly large bed is just about on the floor, and rests at the height of a normal bed for you. It's still wide as a sea however, and you splay yourself out in the ocean of blankets and fiddle with the various chains and gems that lay on your skin as you wait for him. You didn't want even a single one tangled or flipped, they had to be perfect.

It should be any moment now, if you timed it out correctly. Your eyes are locked in the door listening for even the slightest movement on the other side of it; Though only when your eyes begin to wander back to one of your bracelets does something change.

"Love?"

You hear his deep voice come closer, through the thick door before he opens it. It gently creaks open, as if he's wondering if you might be asleep.

"I have returned, It's been so long since I last heard your-"

Vulkan enters the room and stalls completely upon the sight of your gilded form. You wanted to say hello, but the look on his face makes your throat close up completely in something nearing fear.

Vulkan slams the door shut and locks it with newfound force, approaching you with speed in his strides. You let out a delighted squeal as he grips your ankle and yanks you to him from the center of the bed, bringing you right into his arms.

"Ah, ah, ah,"

Coherent sentences were long since lost on you, panting mindlessly as Vulkan pushes the fat head of his cock past your loosened, cum filled entrance for the umpteenth time. Each time he pulls out it stays ready for him, bullied open and used to him. Your voice is far past screaming, you used most of it up well over an hour ago. Now it's just a sore, scratchy whimper. The blanket below you is stained with spit, but cradles your head gently.

You were worried that someone might hear, there are guards posted not far in any direction, but Vulkan fucked that concern out of you along with most of your other factulties.

He's had you in so many different ways you've since lost track, now simply laid spread out beneath him on your knees as your face presses against the blankets. He'd hunted these pelts for you, they were one of a million gifts, and now they're stained with cum as he fucks it out of you and it dribbles onto the fur. All of your jewelry clinks against each other and glimmers, and you swear the noise reignites Vulkan every now and again as he stuffs your cunt full of him.

"You look so beautiful like this, the most valuable of all my treasures,"

You grip his hand like it's your only safety, an island of gentleness as he ruts into you like an animal.

"Let me make you my wife. I can make you the mother of my genesons, and I can give you your own to carry as well."

You've never said no to him, you wanted to be his wife, but you still yelled out a million and one enthusistic 'yes!' until he trailed off into sweet nothings that he panted into the air around you. You can hear the sticky, sloppy noises as a cock that is for all intents and purposes far too big for you stuffs it's way into you, cum leaking down your thighs and smearing on your skin. You can feel his heavy balls smack against your clit, only adding to the primal bodies of the room.

You cum around him again, thighs aching and shaking as even they threaten to give underneath you. Your arms long since had, and soon Vulkan has to use a hand to wrap around your waist and keep you held up, lest you fall to the mattress flat like a limp body. You clench around him with a loud, scratchy cry, almost as if trying to milk his cock for more than he's already given you.

Your jewelry remains still mostly untangled surprisingly, clinking against eachother on your skin as he fucks you. It still shines you imagine, though it's hard to see it. Your thighs and outer lips are slick with juices both yourself and his, mixed together after so long of him mercilessly hammering his hips against yours.

He's always loving, there's a gentleness to him always with you, but you can tell this pushed his limits with you and teeters on the edge of something he has more trouble controlling.

You'd never dream of asking him to stop, this is what you wanted by dressing this way; At least the feral nature. You never expected Vulkan to snap fully, pushing your face down to mount you and growling about filling your womb with the children he's wanted since dawn infinitum.

You aren't complaining, though you also don't exactly have the faculties to do so.

"Relax my love, you wanted this, and now I'm going to fill you until it takes."

#vulkan x reader #fem reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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kaynanarie · 1 day ago

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Eyes of Gold (Part 12)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev)

“Where are you? Please come out?”

The whispers of a familiar voice roused you from a restless sleep. You yawned and blearily squinted around you, trying to remember where you were. The shadowy silhouettes and dust tickling your nose brought back memories of a storage room. It had been daylight when you first hid but now, night had shrouded you in disorienting darkness. You sat curled up in the corner, wondering how much time had passed and if it was safe to finally leave.

A quiet creak startled you as the door swung open. You watched a shadow silently creep in, slow and low to the floor. As you grew more accustomed to the dark, the form of a small monkey took shape. A familiar monkey with glowing, golden eyes.

“Peaches, are you in here?”

You sat up from your hiding spot in surprise. “Shihou?”

As soon as he saw you, Shihou dashed across the room and flung himself onto you. He clung to your shoulder and patting your face with his tiny paws. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured the monkey, wrapping your cloak around him in a warm hug. “What are you doing here? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I was worried.” Concern, relief, and disapproval flashed across his face when he met your eyes. “You didn’t return to the mountain after the demons left.”

“I guess you heard about the attack, then?”

“Yes.” His frown pulled into a scowl, teeth bared as he glowered at the floor. “If I had known Bull Demon King was here, I never would have let you leave alone.”

You ran a hand through his fur, feeling him relax under your soothing touch. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“I was helping the villagers,” you said, sitting back down with Shihou perching on your lap. “Thankfully, no one was hurt; just some damaged buildings. But when my sister heard the demons were gone, she came to see for herself. Elder Gran sent me to hide until she left but I guess I fell asleep.” Gentle brushes smoothed his agitated fur back into place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Shihou sighed and nuzzled against your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Thanks to your hair.” Shihou suddenly looked worried when he met your gaze. You quickly explained to calm his concern. “It protected me when the bull tried to attack. Sorry I lost it. I think Sun Wukong took it with him…” you trailed off with a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters,” the monkey said with a relieved smile. “You should get some rest. We can return to the mountain in the morning.”

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to stand, keeping Shihou balanced on your shoulder. “No, we should leave now while everyone else is asleep. I’ve already stayed too long and my sister might catch us trying to leave it we wait.”

“If you insist,” Shihou agreed hesitantly. “There were guards posted around the village when I snuck in. I can guide you around them but we’ll still have to be careful.”

You nodded. “Okay. Let’s get going.” Pulling your cloak close and Shihou closer, you slipped out of the storage room and through the empty house with careful steps. At the front door, you paused to peek out.

Tilting his head, Shihou listened and pointed down a side street. “No guards for now. That should be the fastest route out of town. Once we’re outside the village, I can take you the rest of the way.”

With a final glance, you hurried down the alley and into the shadows. The night was thankfully empty, the rest of the village sleeping off a stressful day. Only moonlight and icy wind filled the streets as you weaved between buildings. Distant voices on the winter breeze occasionally floated by. Each time, you would freeze and Shihou would listen but the guards were too far and too distracted to be of concern.

It took longer than expected and exhaustion was quickly catching up. Your steps were clumsy, your body weary, and yawns plagued you with every other breath. Even your eyes were fighting to slip close between heavy blinks.

Soon, you reached the edge of the village, shivering from bitter cold and fatigue. You almost cried seeing the great stretch of field and looming mountain still left to traverse.

“I’ve got it from here,” Shihou said, nimbly flipping off your shoulder. In a puff of smoke, he transformed and landed in his taller demon form. You weren’t sure if it was your own tired mind or the moonlight softening his features but his figure seemed more striking than usual. It was only made worse when he smiled at you; warm, golden eyes brightening his handsome face. “Come on, up you get.”

You were still recovering from your drowsy admirations when Shihou turned and knelt away from you. “What?”

“I said I would carry you before and this will get us back to the mountain faster.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you forward so you were flush against him. Looping your arms around his neck, he held your knees and stood, easily hoisting you onto his back. “Ready?”

Too tired to protest, you only nodded and nestled against his warm shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go home,” you mumbled sleepily.

Shihou startled and stumbled a bit but quickly recovered with a brisk pace. “Sure thing, Peaches. You get some rest; we’ll be there in no time.”

You closed your eyes and drifted off, only half aware of your surroundings. Shihou’s rhythmic steps, quick and sure; his hold never faltering. Winter chill shifting to a summery heat, chasing away your lingering shivers. The quiet ambiance of the slumbering jungle settling around you as the mountain welcomed you back. It was comforting and familiar and gently lulled you to sleep.

The next thing you knew, Shihou was setting you down amongst plush blankets and fluffy pillows. As he turned to leave, you caught his hand and clung to it. “Stay?” you asked, smiling soft and sweet. Your half open eyes caught his flustered face but he didn’t shy away. Instead, you felt him shuffle into bed next to you, hugging you against him in a comforting embrace. Warm fur tickled your cheek, carrying his soothing scent of peaches and stone. You snuggled closer as you felt the tug of sleep pulling you back under.

“Goodnight, Shihou,” you whispered.

The last thing you remembered was his purred, “Goodnight, my Peach,” and the gentle press of lips to your brow.

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~🍑 Peach Friends 🍑~

@joyfulllittlething @iluxurycruisedthatship @drspecialhell @moondrop39-dovewing70 @happycarp @chibifox88 @rutabaga-menace

(If you would like to join the tag list, let me know!)

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Something fluffy and cute with the return of Shihou! Just to share the vision of the soft boi, he's absolutely inspired by various artworks I saw of the 1996 Journey to the West. Thank you so much for reading, all the wonder feedback has kept me motivated! Until next time!

You can also find this story on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60643669

#Monkey King x Reader #Monkey King #Sun Wukong x Reader #Sun Wukong #Eyes of Gold #Shihou #Shihou the Monkey #Shihou x Reader #Beauty and the Beast #Lutung Kasarung #Fairytale and Folktale Inspired #Journey to the West #JTTW #Black Myth Wukong #BMW #KayNanArie #Peach Friend

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lilylushes · 23 hours ago

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Luigi Mangione - NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): I already did h/c’s for this, but he’s amazing. He cuddles with you, praising you and leaving you kisses. Things like, “you were so good for me,” “you’re so pretty,” “I love you so much, baby.” He would get you water, put on a bath or shower and join you. He would be reading up on how to make you feel good after sex too and why it’s important for you and your relationship.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): his PhD I think his abs or shoulders. He said himself that he got his six pack because he had to change his workout routine due to an injury. He adapted and worked through his hardships. And I think he probably likes his shoulders as well. On you, I think he would love your eyes. This is a soulful man, imo. He knows that eyes are the windows to the soul and I think he would get lost in them all the time, sometimes even zoning out haha. Even when you’re just cuddling, he asks you to look at him, just so he can look into your eyes and tell you you’re beautiful. But when you’re intimate, he loves eye contact. LOVES it. It cannot be understated. He wants to see you come undone for him while he stares into your soul and you stare into his.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): We all knew this but he has a BREEDING KINK. He didn’t talk about low birth rates for nothing, and he comes from a big family. He loves the idea of cumming inside of you to make you his. When you first said, “fill my pussy up, please,” something in him changed. He almost went feral, finishing right after the words came out of your month. His dirty talk will always include things like, “gonna breed this pretty little pussy,” “want me to fill up this tight pussy of yours,” “wanna fill you up with my babies, hm.” And speaking of, when you guys start trying for kids, you’re fucking like rabbits, even though you did before as well. You’re going at it multiple times a day in every room.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): Before you talked about having kids and before you got off the pill, he told himself he wouldn’t be mad if you did get pregnant. He knew he wanted to be with you forever and believed in divine timing. The two of you wanted to settle down, but weren’t fussed about getting married and then having kids or having a certain timeline. He often thought of what they would look like and sometimes he would mention to you a name that he liked just to see your reaction.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): This is a tough one because I think he could be experienced but maybe not. I’m actually leaning towards him not being that experienced due to his injury and seemingly not being that into dating casually and being a nerd. I would say body count under 10 for sure, potentially less than 5. Still, he DEFINITELY knows what he’s doing. He had a book about female pleasure on his GoodReads for god’s sake. He gets off on you feeling good and finishing. He knows all the female anatomy and is always reading about new ways to please you whether it be a new pussy eating technique or a way to please your erogenous zones.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): MISSIONARY. In this sense, he’s a traditional kind of guy. He loves all sex and all positions, but missionary is his favourite because he’s dominant and can see you coming undone beneath him. He has access to your clit, boobs, hips, neck, mouth, everywhere. He can also look deeply into your eyes the entire time which he loves doing. Eye contact is CRITICAL to this man. Oh, and he can lower himself down to whisper dirty shit into your ear. His favourite things about missionary overall are seeing the effect he has on you and being able to look into your eyes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): He can be goofy sometimes, but not all the time. I think goofiness would mostly happen in bed, rather than any quickies, where he’s rougher and more serious. He’ll laugh if you’re fucking at his or your parents’ place and you can’t keep quiet, or if something falls over. It puts you both at ease and make you feel safe and connected. You love when he laughs right against your lips or face.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): We’ve seen how fast the hair on his head grows, so I’d imagine down there is similar. I’m thinking that he keeps things neat and trimmed, but not fully bare. As for you, I don’t think he’d have a preference at all.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): I think that Luigi really sees all intimacy as something that is almost spiritual for your connection. It’s an important part of the relationship, but he doesn’t think that in a selfish way. He knows it’s so important for your partnership and relationship. Luckily, you’re both horny freaks so there have never been any issues there. I think sexually, he’s pretty traditional in the way that he loves missionary, eye contact, etc. He wants to feel as close to you as possible physically, emotionally, spiritually. But not in such a serious or intense way. He watches you closely, knows what makes you get closer to your release, and is always praising you and dirty talking.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He doesn’t masturbate often because, as I said, you’re both horny freaks

If he does, it’s because you’re away or maybe after you had a baby (and he probably asked permission before lol)

For him, jacking off could NEVER beat having sex with you, EVER, so he almost never wants to do it because it’s just not that arousing

You have tried both touching yourselves in bed together, but your hands quickly wander to the other person

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): Like I said, breeding and praise kink!!! He wants to give you his babies like yesterday. To him, making a baby together is the most intimate thing he can think of. It’s really the two of you committing to one another forever and going through something incredibly special together. I’m just also going to add that while he enjoys MAKING the baby, he’d really have that attitude throughout your pregnancy and postpartum. And yes, praise kink. Since day 1, he’s been calling you a good girl and saying how beautiful you were taking his cock. Oh, and size kink! He loves the thought of his PhD hitting your cervix and stomach. He gets hard just thinking about how you have to adjust for a second after he enters you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): I think he likes the bed. It’s your safe place where you can try new things and be as close as possible. The bed also makes missionary more comfortable as there’s ample space for the two of you. He would like the couch too. Many of your makeout sessions during movie night turn to more and you don’t feel the need to go to the bedroom. Sometimes when you have a bath together, you’ll ride him nice and slow, which he loves. That being said, it’s not like your kitchen countertop, car, and several public places haven’t been sites for your sexcapades.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): He loves seeing you get turned on. He is all about giving you pleasure. If you even moan during a perfectly innocent kiss, the blood rushes downward. Seeing and hearing you beg for him, eye contact, and dirty talk work on him too. Even if he’s not in the mood himself, if you are, he’ll get in the mood. He knows he’s the only one who can make you feel that good, and he loves nothing more than seeing you taking his cock and talking you through your orgasm.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Scat and piss for sure. I also think he would never be down for a threesome, like, ever. You’re his and he’s yours, in this life, and the rest. He’s not going to do anything super violent. He’ll slap your ass of course (and maybe your face idk on this one), but he’s not going to be violent with you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): Like I’ve said, he gets off on getting you off. Watching you come undone on his fingers or his mouth could make him cum in his pants. Our little bookworm is always reading about new ways and techniques to make you cum. That being said, he loves the sight of you on your knees, taking him in your mouth, licking the tip, or sucking his balls while pumping his length. He will ask you for BJs on occasion. You two communicate all of your needs well, including sexually. If either of you asked for or received oral, you always reciprocate, or at least offer.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): A mix! There are times when he’s slow and gentle, and times when he’s rough and fast. You both enjoy both A LOT. And you seem to be able to read each other’s mind on what you want or need on that day. Slower, gentler sex makes you both feel incredibly connected to one another emotionally, while rougher sex brings out your primal sides. Both are essential for a good relationship, so you VERY happily take part in both often.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): You two usually have sex at home because you like to be free to make noise and let your guards down, not worrying about someone hearing or walking in. Being at home lets you really focus on the other person and how they’re feeling. But you do engage in quickies. And because you’re both perpetually horny, it’s decently often. Typically, it’ll be in your car, on a secluded beach, or in a bathroom.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): He will if you demonstrate to him that you’re comfortable and feel safe. A lot of things are your suggestion and he’s happy to try. You’ll try things like sensation play, some light BDSM, but overall you keep things pretty tame.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): With his back, he can’t go for as many rounds as he’d like, but the ones you do have pack a punch. Two or three rounds and you’re both exhausted, opting for a cuddle session or a bath to rest up before you’re ready for more. As for how long he lasts, it depends I think. Sometimes he will be fighting for his life not to cum in his pants while you’re grinding on him, and other times, he lasts quite a long time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): You’ll occasionally use a vibrator, restraints, blindfolds, butt plugs, and whips or ticklers, but it’s not often. You both prefer to focus on getting the other off all on your own. You like to bring in toys sometimes to change things up and heighten sensations.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): He loves to tease. LOVES it. And he wears a big grin on his face while doing it, saying, “how bad do you need my cock, baby,” “beg for it,” “patience,” “good girls wait,” or “you want me to give it to you.” Sometimes he’ll really make you work for it. Your begging gets him off. He knows it’s a bit cruel, but it makes your orgasm even more powerful, so it’s a win-win. He’ll also tease you in public. You’ve had to leave a few family dinners early.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): He’s LOUD. A moaner, groaner, whiner, occasional whimperer, and ALWAYS dirty talking and praising. When he comes, he groans and moans your name. When you tease him and grind on him, he whines and whimpers. He’s a vocal guy and sees making noise as a part of being intimate and letting your guard down with the other person.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): Luigi has asked you a few times to suck him off from under his desk while he’s in meetings. Once he heard whimpering and saw you rubbing your clit while you were sucking him off. He looked under his desk for one second and had to mute his mic and go off camera for a second because it made him cum right then and there.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): He said he has a PhD and I believe it. Also in one of his pics where he’s painted at Penn during his freshman year, his bulge is very visible and looks pretty big.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): It’s always there. Luigi is in touch with his body, including his sex drive. It’s increased so much with you, and luckily for him, you’ve got a high sex drive to match.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): He couldn’t fall asleep without making sure you’ve been taken care of. Cuddling is essential for both of you. He praises you after as well, and if you’re in the mood to talk, he will listen or talk with you. Sex involves aftercare for him, and he needs to make sure you’re satisfied and ready to rest before he can think of sleeping.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione blurb #luigi mangione smut

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fawnsmagicalisland · 3 days ago

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so sweet ₊˚✧ ﾟ. || (b.ej)

desc: perv friend/roommate!ej x clueless!reader

warnings: smut, mdni!, afab reader but no pronouns used!, voyeurism, exhibitionism, outright pervy devious acts, technically dubcon bc reader doesn't know ej's antics?, masturbation, mention of nipple play, praise, using panties to get off, panty stealing, suggested sub!ej, + lmk if i missed anything! :)

wc: 864

euijoo had always been such a sweet guy. holding doors for strangers, helping his friends no matter the time of day or night, even allowing you to move into his place while you tried to find a new job. when you brought up being let go from your job to your friend group, euijoo was the first (and only) one to offer his apartment as a place for you to settle while you figured things out. you had thanked him repeatedly, praising him for being such a sweet guy, thankful that you had a friend like euijoo in your life. unbeknownst to you, your words went straight to his dick.

in fact, there were a lot of things that happened in the following weeks that you didn’t know about. euijoo was not proud of his thoughts or actions. after every instance, he was hit with overwhelming guilt. however, you were too alluring, too intoxicating for him to stop.

at first, he would steal looks at you in the crack of your door while you were changing, palming his already growing hard-on. he wondered what would happen if you suddenly opened the door, catching him in his dirty act. the thought alone caused him to cum in his pants, the large wet patch soiling them. euijoo had no idea he’d even like something like that. but you were teaching him a lot.

when he grew bolder, he would open your door slightly as you were masturbating, the low hum of your vibrator covering any noise made by the door. you were too busy being lost in the feeling, your eyebrows furrowed so deeply that it almost looked like you were in pain. but then you would let out a moan. god, your moans. cliche or not, they were like music to euijoo’s ears. every time he heard you pleasuring yourself, he couldn’t help but let out choked back pitiful moans. his hand would find his dick, bucking his hips against his hand desperately.

eventually, you became comfortable enough around him that you wore less clothing. oblivious to euijoo’s secret shenanigans, you began lounging around the apartment in only an oversized shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. every time you would lean over to grab something, euijoo would steal a glance at your boobs and had to force himself to not moan at the beautiful sight.

you never wore a bra around the apartment, as euijoo came to learn, and sometimes you would jump whenever something accidentally rubbed against your nipples. this only fueled his fantasies more, him imagining how you would react to having his tongue swirling around your nipples.

euijoo would always be pulled out of his thoughts with you poking his side, laughing about how much he zones out. little do you know he only does it around you because how could he possibly focus when you’re just so attractive?

but just when euijoo thought he couldn’t be more of a pervert, he was proven wrong when he was doing his laundry one day to find that you still had your clothes in the dryer. he went to move the clothes to your bed when he saw a pair of lacy baby blue panties sitting on top of the other clothes, as though beckoning him. he told himself he was just borrowing them and that surely you wouldn’t mind as he went back to his bedroom, immediately forgetting about his laundry.

he started to close the door behind him but hesitated, deciding to keep it open. once he got on his bed, he couldn’t unzip his pants fast enough. he pulled down his jeans along with his boxers to the middle of his thighs, his already hard cock pulsing. he brought your panties to his face, wishing they weren’t clean so he could smell your essence. he licked a stripe against the fabric where your cunt would be, letting out a soft moan. he then stuffed the panties in his mouth as he squeezed some lube in his hand, jerking himself off. he squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a few low whines, whimpering your name around the panties. he wondered how your hand would feel wrapped around his cock. you always had such soft hands–they would make a perfect accessory.

oh, how euijoo would give anything to have you coo at him right now. you wouldn’t even have to touch him, just lean over him and praise him as he touched himself. he’d listen to your every word, going faster or stopping when you told him to. he’d be so good, so sweet for you.

with a loud moan of your name, he shot out spurts of cum all over his stomach and thighs. he slowly took the panties out of his mouth, panting heavily. after cleaning himself up, he stared at your pair of panties now sitting on his bed. surely you wouldn’t mind if he borrowed them for a while longer, right?

a couple of days later when you asked euijoo if he had come across a pair of blue panties, he simply shook his head with his sweet smile, wishing you good luck in finding it.

a/n: my first fic on this blog eek! i'm new to &team and tbh i don't know much abt them but i feel like i got a decent enough vibe on ej to tackle this. 🐛🍃

#&team smut #&team hard hours #&team hard thoughts #&team ej smut #andteam smut #andteam hard hours #andteam hard thoughts #andteam ej smut #euijoo x reader #euijoo hard thoughts #euijoo hard hours #&team imagines #andteam imagines #euijoo smut #𖦹˚₊‧ the secrets of the magical island 🐛#⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ whispering willows 🍃

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russellsppttemplates · 18 hours ago

Text

We learn to hold its hand (Charles Leclerc)

Two hearts that lost themselves in pain.

Two hearts that found eachother in love.

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity and writinb has been a good escape! I know this is a heavy topic, so proceed carefully, but I was feeling like writing this so here it goes... For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: cancer, death of close relatives (reader's and Charles' father), grief, hospital procedures

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Bonjour papa", Charles greeted, running his hand over the photograph that was on the grave, "I just got back from the track where we did the testing for Sauber, the last one before the season starts. It's hard, but I'm not afraid", he gulped, "Because you taught me that, even if I'm afraid, I have to go with fear. To move forward, because that's the only way. In racing, I can do that, but I won't be able to continue my life without you because I won't be able to. I try. Every day, I try. For maman, especially, since she tries to be strong for me, Lorenzo and Arthur, and somewhere along the way, we gathered the strength we didn’t know we had, but when we realize it, there it is, supporting us. I'm sure it's you. Every day, I remember that afternoon when you taught me how to ride a bike. Your insistence on removing the training wheels from the big wheel that ended up with a wound on my knee and that made me scream a few times. I remember you telling me that there were worse things than that simple scratch. I never thought that one day we would have to face them and that they would be the main reason why you are no longer by my side", Charles wiped away the tears, while he couldn't help but smile at the beautiful memories that came back to him, "But more than that, I remember the day you put a kart in front of me for the first time. There, I knew it was love for life. Yes, like Francis Cabrel's song. Or that afternoon when I stepped onto the concrete of the best race circuit in the world. There, I knew that I would begin a story in which, even though I was the main character, I would never have been able to write all the chapters that have been completed so far without the help of your pen. That support, that dedication, that encouragement, that love, father. Without them, I would never be the Charles that I am today. There was so much left to say and so much to do. But I am grateful for everything we said and for everything we did. I remember you telling me that you could no longer be strong and you asked me to be. I miss you so much. I miss you so much that I cannot express in words. I just want to thank you for continuing to light my path and for being the best father in the world. You are not by my side, but you are on my side. I feel that, every day. Thank you for continuing to support me in every race and in every challenge that life throws at me. Thank you for being so present, even though you're so far away. I miss you every day. And I feel you with me every day. Je t'aime, papa", he says goodbye, standing up and shaking off the little dirt on his jeans.

He picks up his backpack and starts walking towards the cemetery exit, but a sweet, melodious voice makes him stop walking. Charles looks in its direction, observing a female figure who, sitting next to someone's grave, was quickly but skillfully strumming the acoustic guitar and, at the same time, singing the song he had included in today's conversation with his father. Je l'aime à mourir by Francis Cabrel. Charles smiles at such coincidence and turned his back, picking up his pace, but soon stopping again, feeling a great need to go and meet that girl whose voice conveyed the pain he knew so well - loss.

Charles swallowed hard and instead of walking away, he found himself getting closer and closer to the young woman who, judging by your physical features, was probably around his age.

He waited for you to finish the song to make myself present, since you hadn’t noticed him yet.

“I miss you every day, Lucas. I wish you were here. It would make everything so much easier", he heard you say, through tears, and he felt the impact of all her words. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t feel the same way.

Charles looks at the person you were visiting and his eyes almost popped out of his head when he notices the photo of a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight years old in that portrait. The date of death was twelve years ago.

"Who are you?", you ask.

Charles quickly woke up from his thoughts, focusing his gaze on you, now curiously appreciating him. The colour of your eyes, the way your hair fell down your back and your bare skin faacinaged him.

"Forgive me", he requested, a little embarrassed, "I heard you sing and I couldn't help but come here and tell you that you sing very well and that the person you dedicated the song to probably agrees with me", he replied and your shy laugh made him laugh too.

"Thank you", you offered, quite embarrassed, which was still funny, "He's my twin brother. He was eight years old when he left", you pointed to the portrait you had looked at moments before.

"My father. He passed away a couple of months ago", Charles decided to share the reason why he was also there.

"My brother had a rare blood disease, a cancer doctors were never able to identify. Chemotherapy and radiotherapy were not enough to cure him. In fact, the body of an eight-year-old boy could only handle so much at that time. I was the same age, but I will never forget my brother’s suffering and the strength he had until the end. My childhood innocence was taken from me that day. I am not an example to anyone. The true example of life left more than a decade ago, on a journey that still had a long way to go had it not ended the way it did", you said as you packed your things, letting your anger speak.

Charles noticed the crack in your voice and a few seconds later, he heard your sniffle.

The first instict he had was that he wanted to hug you in that moment and reassure you with just his arms, since words would never be enough comfort at a time like that. And at the same time, he felt that you needed to talk to someone who, being unknown and impartial, would never judge you for the anger you were experiencing.

"My father battled cancer for a few years but, unfortunately, he ended up losing the fight in July. However, the real winner is him. For so many reasons: for the way he faced the reality that was knocking on his door, for how he forced us to face it in the most positive way possible, so that it would become a little easier, and for the way he prepared us for his departure. He is a true hero. If, one day, I can be half the man and father that he was and is, you can be sure that I will leave this life happy", Charles spoke.

"They truly are the heroes who left early to prove that angels really exist", you said, looking at Charles intently in a way made him feel like an open book in front of the most beautiful reader he had ever seen in his life.

"I couldn’t agree more", Charles murmured, too caught up in the gaze of that twenty-year-old girl who was so much more like him than he had thought.

"Y/N", you held out your hand and he smiled at your introduction.

"Charles", he reciprocated, fitting his hand in yours, which you immediately shook.

And there, he knew that you were marked by the wound that would never heal and by the feeling that would never disappear: pain.

There, those two hearts that were lost in pain would be the same ones that would find each other in love.

Charles got up from the floor, after the usual daily conversation he shared with his father after training. He noticed you in the same position you had been in before, but this time, you were reciting poems from a small book you had in your hand, completely distracted from your surroundings.

It was the first time in almost three weeks that he had seen you again. You had stopped showing up at the same time as he did and for a moment he thought you were avoiding him. But he soon put those thoughts aside. After all, if you didn’t even know each other that well, what was the need?

“Y/N", Charles said as he approached you, alerting you of his presence.

You looked at him with a shy smile and immediately stood up as well, "I haven’t seen you around here since", he added and you laughed softly.

"In the last three weeks, I came in the morning, because of the internship I'm doing. I had to change schedules with a colleague and I couldn't come in the afternoon. Now everything is back to normal, so here I am", you explained and he nodded in understanding, "You never miss your schedule", you pointed out it was his turn to laugh.

"This is the best time for me to come because this way, I can spend more time with my father before the cemetery closes", Charles explains and you nod, "Hmm, I really like talking to you but, is it just me who thinks we're not in the best place?".

Your beautiful laugh makes him laugh too, "Without shadow of a doubt", you agreed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I bet you're hungry", Charles assuredly and you laughed again.

"Very", you dmitted, blushing, which made him smile at your embarrassment, "the line at the bakery in front of where I work was too long and, I'm sorry, but patience has never been my strong point", you defended yourself and he giggled.

"So it's better to go without food...?", Charles quirked an eyebrow as he asked, surprised and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I wouldn't go without food, obviously. I was just going to have to snack something later", you shrugged.

Once you stood outside the cemetery, you looked at each other intensely, not knowing what to say, "Would you accept an invitation for a snack?", Charles gathered the courage to ask and it was your turn to laugh at his shyness.

"Yes", your positive answer made him smile.

"Do you have a car?", he asked and you said no.

"Not yet. It’s at the mechanic’s", you made a face of disgust and Charles laughed, "the good news is that my father can pick it up at the end of this week. You have no idea how much I need it for my internship", you complained and Charles smiled at you relaxed way.

"Then you’re coming with me", he invited and you thanked him.

Charles lead you to his car and you smiled in gratitude when he opened the door for you so you could get in.

"And, if you’ll allow me, can I know what you study, Y/N?", Charles asked curiously, when you were already in line at the caffè, the place being chosen by the young woman during your journey, which had been made in a silence that Charles wouldn’t consider awkward but also not very comfortable. The awkwardness was still there.

"Radiology and radiotherapy", you replied, letting out a smile, "Twelve years ago, for a few months, I followed my brother's fight and was inspired by the humanity of those doctors and the team responsible for his case. The way he was treated, the constant encouragement in his recovery, the words and friendly shoulder they gave my parents, and even me, the way they prepared us for the worst and the way they accompanied us in our mourning, was truly human and truly inspiring. And there, I decided that this was something I would like to do in the future. I want to help others like they helped me more than a decade ago", you said proudly, earning a big smile from Charles.

You were interrupted when it was your turn to make the requests and respective payment. Charles insisted on paying the entire bill and you gave in, after much insistence from his behalf.

"Next time, you'll pay", Charles promised, as you walked aimlessly through the streets of Monaco.

"Will there be a next one?", you asked, laughing and Charles couldn’t help but look away from your shy eyes, "It’s a promise, then", you added and Charles looked at you again, already looking at him with a smile.

You ended up sitting on the lawn of a garden, finally digging into your food.

"And you? Can I know what you study?", you asked, equally curious and Charles laughed, still feeling a little satisfied that you didn’t know him as a Formula One rookie.

"I’m a race driver", he told you and you looked at him in surprise.

"What category? And which team?", you asked with interest and he smiled.

"The best in the world and the biggest one in racing", he replied, not wanting to say the team's name directly, because that way he would be able to know which one she supported.

"Do you race for Ferrari?", you asked and Charles smiled broadly, happy with what he had heard.

"I was in their academy last year", Charles confirmed and you smiled.

"How come I've never seen you there?", your curiosity and interest were something that satisfied him. After all, he wasn't the only one who wanted to know more.

"I was in Formula Two with Prema", he explained and her "makes sense", spoken in English, made him laugh.

"But tell me something. Are you regular at races?", Charles asked and you nodded.

"You could say that", you both laughed, "My father and grandfather were always

big racing fans. In fact, they are. And they passed that love on to Lucas", you smiled and looked down at the ground, "The few times he wasn't in the hospital, he was at the track. What he felt for racing was something I had never seen before. It was contagious. Everyone infected Lucas and he infected me. After his death, I promised myself to accompany my father and grandfather, and even go there alone, to every race that was done there. It was, and is, a way of feeling Lucas with me. That’s why I love racing so much", you looked at him with teary eyes, letting the tears fall when Charles brought his thumb to your face, caressing it.

"I’m sorry", you murmured and he quickly denied it, so that you would know that everything was okay.

"You’re inspiring, Y/N. I hope you know that", Charles offered.

You shook your head, smiling, "No, I don't think so. I’m just an eight-year-old child, in the body of a twenty-year-old girl who cries every night, wishing her brother was by her side", you spoke, with some difficulty, and Charles swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to comfort you.

"No, Y/N. You are a young 20-year-old woman who lost her brother at the age of eight and who, even today, is learning to deal with his absence", Charles said and you quickly wiped away the tears that were falling from your eyes, unable to help but sigh heavily.

"So, tell me, how does it feel to wear red? I clearly have been focusing in specific catehorues", you asked with a smile and Charles smiles at your change of subject.

"Incredible. It is a dream come true. I have no words to thank the trust that my team put in me, and how stepping into F1, even if it's not Ferrari, is a huge sense of responsibility, after all, you’re representing one of the best teams in the sport, the best in the world for me", Charles proudly answered your question, not avoiding remembering the day he signed his first professional contract with the unspoken promise and hope of a place in the Scuderia.

"How many years has it been?", you asked.

"I've been with the best the world for a few years", you both smiled.

“We could go watch the historic race this Saturday on the track just outside the city", you invited Charles and he smiled at you initiative, not hesitating to nod.

“I was already thinking of going, but now I’m really going to", Charles answered and you blushed.

"Can you give me your phone number so we can arrange things better?", Charles asked, feeling brave enough to do so, and you nodded.

You exchanged contact details and chatted a little longer until you were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Charles waited for the call to end and returned the smile you gave him.

"Typical motherly concern", you explained, and Charles laughed, nodding along

"I know how it feels", he commented and it was your turn to smile

"Since my brother passed away, my mother, who was already overprotective, has become even more so. I don’t blame her for that, quite the opposite. I have learned to deal with it and I don’t make her life harder, I have a very open relationship with my mother. My first academic choice was not Monaco, but in Montpellier", you said as Charles made such curiosity known and looked at you, "But the truth is that I couldn’t even finish the first semester in the city because I couldn’t stand being alone. It was as if the pain multiplied by mixing with the loneliness that I felt. We were so close that I couldn’t separate the pain of having to leave for one of my dreams. I wasn’t prepared for the nights when nightmares haunted me and the absence of my brother was felt more than ever. So, I asked my parents to come and get me and I moved back to Monaco, where it didn't get easier but it wasn’t as difficult as being alone. Since my brother left, we’ve gotten even closer. But the first few days were the hardest. My mother became depressed, my father closed himself off a bit more and, at the age of twelve, I let myself be suffocated by the feelings I had no one to talk to, until my father learned to deal with the pain and helped us do the same. Someone needed to get back on their feet and help others get back on their feet too, and my father was my hero. We sought out the best psychologists for my mother and her progress was very positive, but in truth, what she was doing, and rightly so, was mourning the loss of the most real, pure and true love in the world. She was mourning the death of her son. And she did it in the only way she knew how. Today, we continue to do it, but we do it differently. And if people now talk and watch us go about our day to day lives, it's not because it no longer hurts - because it hurts a lot - it's because we've learned to embrace pain and deal with it. We hold its hand. I think the learning process is lifelong. And I'm going to die, still learning how to deal with it", you said, and the impact of your words prompt Charles to shed a tear, which was joined by all the others, for all the memories that hit him.

"I miss him so much", Charles whispered, avoiding your gaze.

Just out of the corner of his eye, Charles could see you get closer to him, smiling faintly when you pulled him into a hug he didn't hesitate in joining.

You fit perfectly on his chest, head nestled there as he hugged you by your waist, enveloping you and kissing the top of your head without a hitch.

And in that first touch of many, you got to know eachother through the way you both knew so well - pain. And right there, without knowing, you started another one - love.

Charles was coming home after another training session, the last one before the charity race he was participating in which would take place the next day at ten in the morning. Today was also the historic race day, the race he would watch with you, after meeting up every day that week at your usual spot - although it wasn’t the happiest, you always ended up going to different places in the capital city, where you took the opportunity to get to know each other better.

"Charles", he heard his mother call out and smiled, going to meet the woman who was preparing dinner.

"Hi, maman”, he kissed her hair and bent down a little so she could kiss his cheek, “I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you", he looked at her with a guilty expression, "I'm not going to have dinner at home", he continued, enjoying the meat she was cooking that smelled very good.

"It's all right", Pascale smiled, "you're going to watch the historic race with Joris and Riccardo, aren't you?", she asked, as they were usually his company.

"Well, about that..", Charles mumbled, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture of confusion that didn't go unnoticed by the oldest in the room.

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval! What aren't you telling me?", his mother asked, genuinely curious, and he laughed out loud when she turned off the stove and crossed her arms, waiting for him to start talking.

"I'm going with a girl", he started and saw her smile grow at the information he had given her, "her name is Y/N. She is twenty years old and is a final-year student in the radiology and radiotherapy course. Unfortunately, we did not meet under happy circumstances, but the time we have spent together has allowed us to create and experience moments that go beyond that", he explained, avoiding his mother’s gaze to hide his slight embarrassment.

"Where did you meet?", Pascale wanted to know.

"At the cemetery. It was during one of the visits I paid to papa, three weeks ago. She lost her twin brother to a rare blood disease that doctors were never able to identify. Y/N was eight years old when he passed away. I have never related with anyone as much as I did with her. She understands me. In fact, we understand each other. She is simply beautiful in every way", Charles shrugged, not avoiding a smile as he remembered you.

"Charles, is it just me or are you in love?", his mother asked with a smile as she hugged him, fitting into his arms.

"It’s not possible, maman. Only this week that we’ve gotten closer", he replied, not avoiding a nervous laugh.

Pascale laughed, "and since when did that stop you from feeling something for that young woman? Charles, amour, it’s not the time of things but the intensity with which we experience them", she wisely advised and Charles nodded, smiling weakly.

"Thank you for everything, maman. Je t'aime", he whispered against her hair, leaving a kiss there.

"Never forget that you, as well as your brothers, are my pride and the light of my eyes. Je t'aime, Charles", Pascale spoke.

Charles held his mothee on his arms, wanting her to be aware of the infinite gratitude he felt for her.

Pascale pulled away, wiping her tears, and smiled at Charles, "Come on, I don’t want you like this!", Charles asked and she laughed, waving.

"I’m fine", his mother assured, "Now go take a shower and get ready so you don’t keep the girl waiting. I’ll make you a bowl of cereal, so you can eat something before you go", she warned and smiled, getting a kiss on her forehead.

"You’re the best!!", Charles exclaimed, leaving the room, and she laughed.

"I know!", she said, laughing, and Charles laughed at her expression.

Once he got to his bedroom, Charles chose a presentable outfit, wanting to dress appropriately and blend in with all of the fans and enjoy the race that was probably one of the last moments before everything flooded in. The PR team had already warned him that once he was in Formula One, everything changed and he hoped he could have this evening.

He ran to the bathroom, took a quick and relaxing shower, and got dressed without rushing, making sure he looked his best. After that, he went back to the kitchen, where his mother was still, finishing the preparations for dinner.

“Since I didn’t have any company for the meal, I invited your cousins”, she said.

Charles gave her a guilty smile, "I'm really sorry, maman", he spoke sincerely, and it was her turn to laugh, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, Charles, I was just kidding. I want you to go and enjoy Y/N's company. I haven't even met her yet and I already like her", she commented.

"Oh really? Why is that?", Charles wondered, really interested.

"Why? Because every time you talk about her, it's impossible for you not to smile. And I like that", she admitted and he blushed, hearing his mother giggle at his shyness.

"Maman!", he mumbled and the older woman laughed.

"What's wrong?", she asked, pretending not to notice as her son rolled his eyes, laughing.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything, I should've stayed quiet", Charles complained and she laughed out loud.

"As if I wouldn't eventually find out, Charles", she winked, convinced, and Charles laughed at the joviality that characterized his mother, even after everything that life had put her through.

They were closer than ever and he felt very comfortable sharing any kind of subject with her, she was his best friend and the best thing in his world.

"I really have to go", Charles announced, looking at his watch, making sure he wouldn’t be late.

"Do you have everything with you, amour?”, she asked and he looked at her confused.

“Yes, why?”, Charles answered with another question, while he set the bowl of cereal in the sink.

"Are you sure?", she insisted and he snorted, patting his pockets and checking that nothing was missing.

"I have everything", he replied, kissing her forehead as a way of saying goodbye, "I'll see you later. Je t'aime!", he shouted from the living room and heard her laugh.

"Do you have the condoms with you?", Pascale asked, giggling, and Charles almost choked on his own saliva.

He couldn't believe it.

"Seriously, maman?", he made himself heard out loud.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Charles? I too was a young woman your age once. And I'm too young to be a grandmother!", she said, coming to meet him at the door, and she couldn't help but laugh when she saw his embarrassment.

"I'm leaving!", Charles exclaimed, leaving a last kiss on her cheek and walking all the way to the car while laughing, knowing his mother never missed the opportunity and had a great ability to embarrass her own son.

Charles got in the car and drove off towards your house which, even after a week, continued to leave him astonished by the external beauty that set it apart from the others in the same neighborhood. He sent you a quick text letting you know that he was already waiting for you and, about three minutes later, he heard a door slam, looking in the direction of the noise and not helping but smile when he saw how you were dressed appropriately for the race.

"Wow, yes, we have a racing fan", he complimented and the brunette giggle.

You were dressed in a vintage jacket, an allusive cap with the peak turned backwards and the rest of the outfit complimented it.

The rest of the journey to the track was transformed into a karaoke session, "tell me if we don't make an unbeatable singing duo", you joked as you walked towards the interior of the building where you would be sitting.

"Like society hasn't seen in many years", Charles joined in your joke and you laughed

Charles put his right hand on your shoulder, hugging you and guided you through the crowd so that you wouldn’t lose each other. He heard his name being called and two kids running towards him, making you stop walking. He greetd them with a smile and they ask for a photo that would be the responsibility of the woman who was waiting for them to position themselves, "your girlfriend can also join the portrait", the oldest women pointed to you, and you couldn't help but blush, making Charles smile sideways when he noticed such a thing.

"We're not-", Charles didn't let you finish.

"Come here, Y/N", he asked and the lady waved, heading towards you.

After the photos were taken, the kids thanked Charles, immediately disappearing from our sight, "Do you want to see something around here or would you rather go inside now?", Charles chatted up while you tried to show yourself less embarrassed.

He couldn't help but admit that he was enjoying seeing you like that and, more than that, knowing that he was the one that made you feel that way.

"We can go inside, since race time is very close", you preferred and Charles nodded, placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the entrance.

You greeted the various security guards who were there and headed to the place that your tickets indicated. Because Charles belonged in a professional driving championship, he was entitled to the VIP stands.

"Wow", you exclaimed, truly enchanted by the view you had of the track, which was undergoing the final touches before opening its doors to the public.

"Have you never been here before?", Charles asked and saw you deny it, while remaining astonished, appreciating the atmosphere around you.

"Only for a visit when Lucas was with us, never when there was an actual race happening. This is going to be great", you finally looked at him, offering him a smile, "thank you, Charles", you spoke and he acknowledged the sincerity of your words, smiling at you broadly.

“You’re welcome", he downplayed the situation, just hoping you would feel good, "I don’t know if you drink, but would you like a beer? Or perhaps some wine?", he asked and you laughed.

“I don’t usually drink, but today I can make an exception", you accepted and Charles smiled.

“Are you sure? You have every right to say no" he made it clear and you laughed, denying it.

“Seriously, Charles, we can go", you insisted and he waved, giving you space so you could go ahead of him.

The crowd there was huge, but that didn't stop you from drinking and snacking before the race started.

"The teams are getting ready", Charles said as you finished our drinks and you waved, standing up and opening your wallet to take out the money.

"Hey you! What are you doing?", Charles quickly intervened, placing his hand on yours to stop your movements.

"Charles, what did you promise? 'You'll pay next time', that's what you said", you imitated his tone of voice and you burst out laughing.

"Can't you wait until next time?", he insisted and you gave him a death glare, making Charles realise there wasn't much he could do.

"Okay then", he gave in and you giggled smugly.

You went back to your seats after you paid, watching everyone get ready for the race.

"Do you have a favourite driver?", Charles wondered.

"I don't think so. Each one has something to offer to the races, and it's not like many of them are here", you spoke before seeing Lewis Hamilton approach one of the cars.

A song came on and you pulled Charles to dance with you, singing in his ear as he smiled, tightening his grip on your waist. "Now comes the part that no one knows how to sing", you added, moving away from Charles a little and he could notice your shyness, most likely because of the action you had done before.

You danced awkwardly, which earned you a couple of looks, and stopped when the announcer of the track, already full, made himself heard, announcing the race was about to start.

"I love this part", you smiled, getting a kiss from Charles on the hair that was not covered by your cap.

The race started out well and everything seemed to be going as they hoped, the announcer mentioning some facts they had about the historic race.

"THAT'S AN OVERTAKE!", you shouted and the entire section stood up, celebrating yet another great move from Lewis.

You screamed euphorically, pulling Charles into a quick hug, before joining in the celebrations with the rest of the fans.

This girl was out of this world, Charles thought.

"I've never seen a girl like you", he said, automatically enchanted by you.

"That's because I'm an exclusive edition", you joked and you both laughed, "Is that good?", you asked seriously.

Charles returned your gaze, nodding, "Very. You're different from everyone I've ever met", he admitted and you smiled, looking away from him.

"Good. That way, I don't have to worry about them", you shrugged.

Charles smiled, satisfied with the answer you had given him, "Come here" he asked in an act of courage, hugging you while you rested your head on his chest and focusing your attention on the race.

When the race ended for a break until the next one, you took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, while Charles chose to do the same.

Since he was quicker than you, given that the line was shorter, he waited for you outside, where there was a line of young people who were looking at him curiously.

"Finally", Charles muttered to himself as he watched you leave the compartment.

"What happened? Were you feeling watched over?", you made fun and he stuck his tongue out at you, pulling you closer to him. "Watched over?! It seemed like the girls were undressing me with their eyes", he accused.

"That was most likely exactly what was happening", you confirmed and he looked at you in shock, which made you laugh again, "What?! You can't judge them!", you argued.

Charles laughed, honestly pleased with what he had heard, "Oh really? Have you also undressed me with your eyes?", he whispered in youe ear.

"No, I prefer to do it with my hands", you murmured against his mouth and walked ahead of him, leaving him perplexed.

Well, take that, Charles, his subconscious spoke and he chuckled - the ability you had to leave him speechless was unbelievable. Noticing the faces you were making, he decided to return to your seats, where you were already dividing your attention between your cell phone and the track.

"What are you watching?", Charles asked, moving closer to you to observe what you were watching, spending some time watching the silliness and fun on her screen.

"The game is going to start again", Charles said as you quickly turned off the electronic device and hugged his waist, while you paid attention.

"What is he doing to Lewis?", Charles complained.

"Do not play around with him!", you joined.

"Maybe there's a favourite after all?", Charles teased you.

"Maybe, he is very skilled and handsome", you shrugged.

"Oh, good", Charles murmured, feeling a pang of jealousy at the way you had spoken about the driver.

Your laugh made him realize that you had noticed, "Charles, are you jealous?", you mocked and he rolled his eyes, avoiding looking at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know that word", he shrugged, trying to make you forget the subject but you didn’t give in.

Instead, you brought your hand to his face, making him look at you, "I’m here with you, aren’t I?", you asked seriously and he smiled weakly, nodding along, "So it’s not Lewis that interests me", you concluded, paying attention to the track again.

Charles sighed, pulling you closer to him, a gesture that made you smile.

Once the race ended, you headed towards the outside, trying to avoid the confusion as much as possible.

"Shall we eat something?", Charles asked you, intertwining your fingers, and you smiled shyly at him, which made him chuckle.

"Please!", you agreed and laughed out loud. "Suggestions?", he asked and you looked thoughtful.

"The center might not be a good idea because it must be full after this", you ruled out, "that new panini shop?", you suggested and he agreed.

You got in the car and headed towards the shop, ordering it to go and Charles ended up choosing a nice spot that overviewed the city.

"Tomorrow I'm going to race", he began, "I know it's not your tradition, but I'd like for you to come watch", he invited and you smiled.

"I'll be there", you agreed and it was his turn to smile, "At what time is it?", you wondered.

"At 10:00 in the morning. I know it's Sunday but...", Charles trailed off.

"Tomorrow, at that time, I'll be there to support you", you promised and he thanked you.

Charles parked the car and you got out of the vehicle, enjoying the fresh night air, which was quite pleasant. He cleaned his shirt and pants again and heard you laugh as you came closer to help him with the crumbs.

"Clumsy", you criticized jokingly, and he stuck his tongue out at you.

You sat down on one of the benches that were there and you sighed, making Charles look in your direction.

"How peaceful", you whispered, while keeping your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips.

"Monaco is really beautiful", Charles said, hearing you agree with a small murmur.

You took off your cap and tried to fix you hair, making Charles laugh.

"Let me help you", he gently asked and you turned to him, letting him fix the rebelliousness that characterized you.

As soon as he finished, he continued to caress them, which made you close you eyes to enjoy the affection.

"Kiss me", you murmured and he looked at you in surprise.

"What?", Charles asked, trying to understand if he had heard correctly.

"Kiss me, Charles", you repeated.

"Can I?", still astonished, he wanted to make sure.

"You should", you replied as Charles smiled at your answer and pulled you towards him, appreciating the serenity of your face.

"Finally", Charles whispered against your mouth before finally placing your lips together for the first time - of many, he hoped.

You allowed his tongue to enter your mouth when he silently asked for permisson and he intensified your kiss, truly surrendering to you.

And in eachother's lips, you discovered the path to peace, the one you both had lost years before with the pain that had overwhelmed you.

You woke up to the sound of the alarm clock, quickly getting up, not wanting to be late for Charles' race,

"Y/N, dear?", you heard the surprise in you mother's voice and couldn't help but laugh. "Hi, mama", you said, giving her permission to come in, and she did so.

"Are you going to tell me why you're up at this hour? Of all people, you who hibernates all weekend!", she joked and you stuck out your tongue, which made her laugh.

"I just felt like getting up, that's all", you said briefly, as you looked through your closet, looking for the most presentable, yet comfortable, clothes possible.

"And why are you going to dress so nicely if you're going to spend the whole day at home?", she mused, suspiciously, and you laughed at her curiosity.

"Okay, mama, you win", you eventually gave in and she celebrated, which made you laugh out loud.

"I'm going to watch the charity race", you said and her curious look made you realize that her questions were only at the beggining.

"Who's your boyfriend from there?", she didn't hesitate to ask and you looked at her, shocked etched on your face.

"Why do I have to have a boyfriend to watch the race?", you asked, astonished and she looked at you with an expression that said to not mess with her.

"Your mother is old but she's not stupid, Y/N", she scolded, laughing and you followed.

"Mama, you are forty-eight years old. You are a young woman", you complimented her, trying to make her drop about the subject and the older woman laughed.

"Yes, yes, sweetheart. Now the question I asked you", she insisted and you laughed, shaking your head.

"I don't have a boyfriend, mama. But I have a friend who would like me to go and I'm going", you told her and the smile she gave you made you blush.

"Name?", she wanted to know and you snorted, making her laugh.

"How annoying", you rumbled and she laughed again, "Charles".

"Then I hope this Charles takes care of you or the wooden spoon will fly", she threatened and you couldn't help but laugh with her.

"You're amazing, mama", you replied and she laughed, coming towards you and kissing your forehead.

"I just want you to be happy", she muttered, while caressing your face and smiling.

"I am", you assured her and she smiled, before walking away, leaving you alone again. You ran to the private bathroom and took a quick shower, leaving it shortly after so you could get ready in time. You applied some light makeup and dried your hair, leaving it in its natural waves.

You went down the stairs, passing through the living room, patting Simba on the head, the old Labrador who had always been with you, and whose name was based on Lucas' favorite movie.

"Good morning", you greeted your parents, although you had already spoken to your mother.

"Up so early, my dear?", your father was surprised and you looked at my mother, who was already looking at you with a suggestive smile that made you roll you

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc angst

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rose24207 · 3 days ago

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dtMF

Summary: Lando sits on a San Juan beach, holding a Polaroid camera, reflecting on his lost love and regretting the moments he took for granted, wishing he could tell her he still loves her.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x dead!f!reader

TW: Death, grief, coping, the song itself basically

A/N: I feel emotional about this one :( English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The sunsets in San Juan were beautiful, like paintings brushed across the sky. Lando sat on a weathered stone wall overlooking the beach, the horizon awash with golden hues melting into soft purples. A faint breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed, rustling the palm trees that lined the shore.

It should’ve felt peaceful. It should’ve brought comfort.

But to Lando, it was just another reminder of what you were missing.

He gripped a Polaroid camera in his hands—the same one you’d gifted him years ago on one of your many adventures. "So we can remember the little things," you had said with a grin, snapping the first photo of him right then and there. That photo was still in his wallet, fraying at the edges from years of handling.

But tonight, it felt heavier than ever.

He tilted his head back, letting the fading sunlight warm his face. For a moment, he imagined you beside him, your laughter ringing out as you teased him for getting too sentimental. He could almost hear your voice.

“Enjoy the sunset, Lando,” you’d say. “Moments like these don’t come often.”

You were right—they didn’t. But now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to enjoy them. Not without you.

Lando still replayed the last time he saw you over and over in his mind. The memory clung to him, sharp and unrelenting. You’d been standing at the airport, a soft smile tugging at your lips as he hugged you goodbye.

“Don’t forget to take lots of pictures,” you’d teased, your arms tightening around him.

“As long as you don’t forget to answer my calls,” he’d replied, resting his chin on your head.

You’d laughed, leaning back to look into his eyes. “Never.”

But life had other plans.

The accident happened on an ordinary day, the kind of day that should’ve been insignificant. Lando had been across the world, standing on a podium with champagne in his hand and a grin on his face, completely unaware that his world was already breaking.

He hadn’t even been there when it happened.

That was what haunted him the most—the distance, the helplessness, the fact that he couldn’t save you. He couldn’t hold your hand, couldn’t whisper reassurances, couldn’t tell you one last time how much he loved you.

Now, he’d give anything to go back. To the last time he looked into your eyes. To the moments he’d taken for granted. To the kisses he hadn’t stolen, the hugs he hadn’t given, the pictures he hadn’t taken.

The nights felt endless without you. He filled them with distractions—races, interviews, dinners with friends—but nothing worked. The second he was alone, the grief swallowed him whole.

One night, he found himself in the car, driving aimlessly through the streets of San Juan. He didn’t even know why he’d come here. Maybe because it was the last place where you’d truly been happy, where the two of you had spent sun-soaked days exploring the island and dancing under the stars.

Eventually, he ended up at a small bar tucked away on a quiet street. The air inside was thick with the smell of rum and the sound of salsa music. Lando sat at the counter, ordering a drink he didn’t want but couldn’t bring himself to leave untouched.

The bartender, an older man with a kind face, gave him a curious look. “You’ve got the look of someone carrying a heavy heart,” he said.

Lando managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.”

The bartender nodded knowingly, sliding the drink toward him. “Grief is a heavy thing, my friend. But it means you loved deeply. That’s a rare gift.”

Lando swallowed hard, the words hitting too close to home. He stared into his glass, his reflection distorted by the amber liquid.

“I should’ve taken more pictures,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music. “I should’ve kissed her more, hugged her more.”

The bartender’s expression softened. “The regrets never go away, but neither does the love. Hold onto that.”

Later that night, Lando found himself back on the beach, the Polaroid camera slung over his shoulder. The moon hung low in the sky, its light reflecting off the waves that lapped gently at the shore. He dropped down onto the sand, his knees pulling up to his chest as he stared out at the endless expanse of water.

He thought about you—your laugh, your touch, the way you used to hum softly when you thought no one was listening. He thought about the way you’d wrinkle your nose when you were concentrating, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you loved.

“Tell me, love,” he whispered to the night, his voice breaking. “Where are you?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I’d meet you anywhere,” he continued, tears streaming down his face. “Just tell me where.”

He imagined what it would be like to see you again, even for a moment. He thought about all the things he’d say, all the things he hadn’t said before. He thought about the pictures he’d take, the memories he’d hold onto so tightly this time.

But no matter how hard he wished, you wouldn’t come back.

The Polaroid camera sat heavy in his lap. For a long time, he just stared at it, his fingers trembling. Then, with a deep breath, he lifted it to his face and snapped a picture of the ocean under the moonlight.

The photo slid out, the image slowly developing before his eyes. It wasn’t much—just the empty beach, the waves shimmering in the distance. But it was something.

He leaned back against the sand, holding the photo tightly in his hand. His chest felt hollow, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a physical force.

“I hope you can see me,” he whispered. “Wherever you are. I hope you know how much I miss you.”

The waves continued to crash softly against the shore, a steady rhythm that matched the aching pulse of his heart.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Even if it hurts. Even if it’s forever.”

And as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Lando sat there, the picture in his hand and your memory etched into his soul, forever a part of him.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

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nanamineedstherapy · 21 hours ago

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His Chrysanthemums

Widower!Toji x GN!Reader

Summary: Grief lingers like a shadow, following even the strongest hearts. Toji’s world was shattered, and though time moved forward, he remained anchored to the memory of what he’d lost. A new presence offers a chance to heal, but unseen and unheard, someone fights to return to him, defying the laws of life & death. This ones for all those who wanted the mysterious hunk to be Toji, hope you guys are satisfied with this in the meantime I finish that story and cook up something for him. First time writing Toji in lead hehe.

Chrysanthemums, often referred to as "mums," with their vibrant blooms, carry a heavy weight of sorrow, frequently symbolizing grief and mourning in many cultures. Associated with death, they serve as poignant reminders of lost loved ones, evoking a deep sense of nostalgia and regret for moments that can never be reclaimed. Their presence speaks to the transience of life, a bittersweet acknowledgement of beauty that fades too quickly, leaving behind aching memories of separation and unrequited love. As the petals fall, they whisper of heartache and longing, setting the stage for a story steeped in loss and the haunting echoes of what once was. Song Rec. WC: 2,061

The cold wind sliced through the night like a dagger, sharp and unrelenting, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and dying flowers. Toji Zenin roamed the streets like a ghost of the man he used to be. His broad shoulders, once a symbol of his unyielding strength, now sagged under the weight of an emptiness that seemed infinite. His hands, scarred and calloused from a lifetime of battles, trembled as they clutched a bouquet of pale chrysanthemums.

The flowers weren’t for you.

The streets were quieter now, the hum of life dulled as the world prepared for sleep. Toji’s boots crunched against the gravel, his gait slow and deliberate. He hadn’t planned this walk. His feet simply carried him forward, driven by an unspoken need to escape the walls that seemed to close in tighter with every passing night.

The first year after you died was chaos—a storm of anger, grief, and regret that left him reeling. He’d lost himself in whiskey and violence, trying to drown the sound of your laughter that echoed endlessly in his mind. The second year was no easier. He numbed himself with work, burying every ounce of himself into missions, pushing his body to the brink just to feel something—anything—besides the ache of your absence.

But grief has a way of changing shape, of dulling its sharp edges into something heavier, more insidious. By the third year, Toji found himself hollow. The pain no longer roared; it whispered, constant and cruel. That was when he met her.

She wasn’t like you. She wasn’t trying to be.

Her kindness was quiet, unassuming. She didn’t pry or push. She simply sat beside him when he needed silence and spoke when the silence grew too loud. For the first time in years, Toji felt the faint stirrings of something he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t joy—he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel that again—but it was a spark, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his heart.

She didn’t try to fix him. She didn’t pretend she could. And for that, he was grateful.

Still, guilt clawed at him every time he caught himself smiling at something she said or leaning into her gentle touch. The weight of your memory was ever-present, a specter that loomed over every quiet moment, every tentative step forward.

Tonight, as he walked with the bouquet in hand, his chest felt tighter with every breath. The chrysanthemums, pale and fragile, seemed to mock him with their delicate beauty. He’d bought them without thinking, a reflex from a life he no longer lived.

He wasn’t sure when he decided he would confess his feelings to her. The thought had come unbidden, growing stronger with each passing day. It felt wrong, like a betrayal of everything you had shared, but it also felt necessary.

Yet, as he approached the park where they often met, the memories surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him. He saw flashes of you—your laughter, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, the warmth of your hand in his. He clenched his jaw, trying to shake the images loose, but they only grew stronger.

The park was nearly empty, the streetlamps casting pools of golden light on the cobblestone path. Toji hesitated at the entrance, his heart pounding in his chest. The bouquet felt heavy in his hands, as if it carried the weight of every unspoken word, every unfinished moment.

He hadn’t even seen her yet, but already he felt like he was making a mistake.

His mind raced with doubts. Would she even want this? Would she understand the shadows that clung to him, the parts of himself he could never share? Would she see him for what he truly was—a man broken beyond repair, trying desperately to piece himself back together?

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he stepped forward. The sound of his boots echoed in the stillness, each step heavier than the last.

What Toji didn’t know—what he couldn’t possibly know—was that someone was watching him.

---

The afterlife was a void—silent, endless, and suffocating. It wasn’t the peace you’d been promised, nor the oblivion you might have welcomed. Instead, it was a cruel limbo where every moment stretched into eternity, and all you could feel was the unbearable ache of his absence.

The gods had taken you too soon, tearing you away from Toji with no warning, no time to say goodbye. You had begged for another chance, pleaded for mercy, but the heavens were indifferent to your suffering. Fate is immutable, they told you. The dead cannot return.

But you weren’t one to accept fate.

Your love for him was a force stronger than death itself. It fueled you, driving you to claw your way through the afterlife. You bartered with ancient spirits, battled celestial beings, and endured trials that shredded your soul piece by piece. You became a warrior in death, a ghost consumed by purpose. Every moment, every sacrifice, was for him.

The gods warned you. He has moved on. You will not find what you seek.

You didn’t care to listen.

Your resolve burned brighter than the stars, a flame that refused to be extinguished. You tore through the veil between life and death with sheer determination, leaving behind fragments of yourself in the process. When you finally returned, the world felt alien, like stepping into a life that no longer belonged to you.

What Toji didn’t know—what he couldn’t possibly know—was that you were watching him now.

Your spectral form lingered in the shadows as he walked through the park, his steps deliberate. You had dreamed of this moment for three long years, imagined his face lighting up with joy when he saw you again. But as you followed him, the truth began to sink in.

The chrysanthemums in his hands were not for you. The softness in his eyes was not for you.

You watched as he approached a woman sitting on a bench, her smile warm and inviting. Your heart clenched as he handed her the flowers, his voice low and hesitant as he spoke words you couldn’t hear.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You had imagined this moment a thousand times. You had dreamed of the look on his face when he saw you again, the way he would pull you into his arms and swear never to let you go. But this? This wasn’t the reunion you had fought for.

You stepped closer, your ghostly form trembling with the effort. The world around you felt heavy, the air thick with the weight of your grief. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his shoulder, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t see you.

He couldn’t.

You stumbled back, the realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. You had fought gods and torn apart the fabric of your soul to return to him, only to find that you were nothing more than a shadow—a forgotten memory lingering in a world that no longer needed you.

You ran.

The forest loomed ahead, dark and endless, but you didn’t care. Your sobs echoed through the trees, raw and heart-wrenching, a symphony of pain that seemed to reverberate through the very earth.

You found yourself in the graveyard.

The air was cold, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. You stood before your own tombstone, the sight of it stealing the breath you no longer had.

Beloved Wife. Forever Missed.

The words carved into the stone felt like a mockery.

You weren’t missed.

You were forgotten.

You collapsed to your knees, clutching at the earth above your grave. The soil was damp, a cruel reminder of the finality you had fought so hard to defy. Your sobs tore through the quiet night, raw and unrestrained. You had given up everything to return to him, only to find that the world had moved on without you.

You clutched at your chest as if you could rip the anguish out of yourself.

“Why?!” You wailed, your voice breaking. “Why did I come back? Why did I fight for this?!”

The heavens remained silent.

---

You didn’t notice Toji at first, too consumed by the overwhelming weight of your despair. The forest around your grave blurred into an endless haze of muted greens and grays, your wails swallowed by the indifferent silence of the world.

Then you heard it—the crunch of gravel beneath heavy boots.

You looked up, your ghostly form trembling. Toji stood there, his figure clear against the hazy backdrop. He held chrysanthemums in his hands, the same ones you’d seen him give to her.

Why were they here?!

Your heartbeat—or what remained of it—sank in your chest.

He approached slowly, his movements cautious, as though stepping into sacred ground. His face was a canvas—grief, regret, and something you couldn’t quite place.

He sat by your grave, his head bowed. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, the silence between you both as suffocating as the chasm that separated you.

When he finally did, his voice was barely a whisper. “I tried,” he said, the words cracking under their own weight. “I tried to move on. But it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”

You felt your chest tighten, the ache in your soul almost unbearable.

“She’s with someone else,” he continued, his tone laced with bitter amusement. “Gojo, of all people. Should’ve seen that coming.”

Relief flooded through you, unbidden and unwelcome, a bitter reminder of your own selfishness. You hated yourself for it, for the small part of you that found comfort in knowing he hadn’t truly moved on.

He didn’t deserve this; your baby didn’t deserve this. Wasn’t his family’s torment enough misery to last a lifetime? He deserved peace, love, and happiness—things you could no longer provide. The weight of your absence pressed heavily on your heart, a constant ache that reminded you of all the moments you would never share again.

You wished for him to find solace, yet the thought of him moving forward without you felt like a betrayal. It was a cruel twist of fate that left you longing for his happiness while knowing you could never be a part of it.

“I keep seeing your face,” he said, breaking you out of your own spiral, his voice trembling. “Hearing your voice. Every time I try to forget, it’s like you’re right there, haunting me.”

Your heart shattered all over again. You wanted to scream, to cry out, I am here! I fought for you! I came back for you!

But no sound escaped your lips.

Toji placed the flowers on your grave, his hand lingering on the cold stone. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For not being enough when you were here. For even thinking I could replace you now that you’re gone.”

You reached out, your ghostly hand trembling as it hovered inches from his cheek. Then, with every ounce of will you had left, you brushed your fingers against his hand.

He froze.

For a moment, it felt as though he could feel you, as though the distance between you had finally closed. His breath hitched, his head snapping up to look around.

“Who’s there?” He whispered, his eyes scanning the empty clearing.

You stayed silent, your ghostly form sagging in defeat as he stood. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Guess I’m losing my mind now, too.”

He walked away, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his grief. You stayed behind.

You collapsed onto your grave, your wails swallowed by the indifferent silence of the world. Your screams echoed through the cemetery, unheard by the living but reverberating through the void.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve—”

The words died in your throat. You realized, with a painful clarity, that it didn’t matter anymore. You were gone. And he was alive.

All you could do now was let him go.

As dawn broke over the cemetery, you faded back into the ether, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of chrysanthemums.

A/N: Thank you for reading this story—I poured my soul into writing it, and I hope it broke your heart just a little (or a lot). Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Your takes mean the world to me.

All Works Masterlist

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 2 days ago

Note

def just an idea so no pressure- but I would love a selective mute reader who is besties with Ominous. I’m a Sebastian girly- but she call fall for whoever in universe bc I’m not great with ideas.

Love you 💕💕

Teal or Turquoise? | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

ANON - I love you too! Thank you for the beautiful prompt. I admit, I am not well-educated on the nuances and intricacies of selective mutism but I did some reading and I hope that this story thoughtfully captures your vision.

Words: ~3,400

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Big Time Fluff, LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO FLUFFY

The Astronomy Tower had always been your refuge at Hogwarts. It was quiet, far enough from the bustling common rooms and rowdy hallways to feel like a world of your own. The cold stone walls seemed to hold their breath, waiting for nothing, expecting nothing. It was perfect.

Ominis often joked that you had stolen his hiding spot. “This is where I come to escape the chaos,” he’d say, leaning on the tower’s railing with a smirk that softened his usually sharp features. You’d always reply with a small smile or a gentle nudge to his arm, the kind of unspoken exchange that needed no elaboration between the two of you.

Today was no different. The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor, snow falling softly in the air around you. A book lay open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned the page in quite some time. Ominis sat beside you, one hand gripping his wand, the other curled around a warm thermos of hot chocolate he’d charmed to stay warm. He wasn’t speaking, and neither were you.

That was one of the things you loved most about your friendship—there was no need to fill the silence.

“Still lost in that book of yours?” he asked after a while, his lips quirking in the faintest of smiles.

You shook your head, tapping the page lightly with your fingertip before nudging him with your elbow. He tilted his head slightly, his wand tracking the small gesture.

“Ah, so you’re watching me now, are you?” he teased, his voice warm and familiar. “What did I do to deserve such attention?”

Your smile was small but genuine, and for the first time in a few days, you found yourself speaking. “You’re more interesting than the book.”

The words were soft, almost tentative, but Ominis didn’t react the way most people would have—no wide-eyed shock, no overenthusiastic congratulations for having spoken at all. He simply let his smile widen ever so slightly.

"I'm flattered," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the faintest lilt of amusement. “Though I must admit, it’s a rather low bar. What’s the book about? Arithmancy perhaps? Potions? Or something as riveting as Hogwarts: A History?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him again, this time with a little more force. “It’s Charms,” you murmured quietly.

Ominis hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the sides of the thermos as the warmth seeped into his skin. "Charms, hmm? I suppose we've had enough Potions excitement in the past week with Sebastian's antics."

The mention of Sebastian made you smile despite yourself. It was true—the memory of your boisterous friend nearly setting his cauldron ablaze last week was still far too fresh in your mind. Still, you didn’t answer, content to let the moment linger in its comfortable quiet.

Ominis didn’t mind. He leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back as if listening to something only he could hear. For a moment, you allowed yourself to study him—the elegant curve of his jaw, the way his pale lashes brushed against his cheeks, the slight furrow of concentration between his brows that never seemed to fully fade.

You quickly averted your gaze, a subtle warmth blooming in your cheeks. It felt foolish to linger on such thoughts—Ominis was your best friend... and yet, somewhere along the way—though you couldn’t quite pinpoint when—that friendship had started to feel like something more.

You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting slightly with the corner of the book in your lap, though if Ominis noticed the restless movement, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tilted his head slightly in your direction, his expression thoughtful.

“I was thinking, perhaps we could—”

The door burst open with a loud creak, and Sebastian’s voice boomed through the tower.

“There you are! I knew you’d be hiding up here!”

You flinched, startled by the sudden noise, and instinctively pulled your knees up slightly, the book slipping from your lap. Ominis turned his head in the direction of the intrusion, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Sebastian strode into the room, his presence filling the quiet space like a storm. Flakes clung to his dark hair and his cheeks were flushed red from the cold. He grinned broadly, brushing snow from his shoulders and looking between the two of you with a mock look of disapproval. “It’s snowing outside—properly snowing—and you’re just sitting here like a couple of house-elves on their day off. Come on, it’s tradition! A snowball fight, all of us outside. Let’s go!”

You shook your head quickly, waving a hand in polite refusal. Sebastian ignored it entirely, his grin widening as he gestured toward the door. “Oh no, no excuses this time. You’re coming. Both of you. Fresh air is good for you, you know. Builds character.”

Ominis sighed, long-suffering and patient as ever. “Sebastian,” he began, his tone calm but firm, “not everyone shares your enthusiasm for freezing to death in the courtyard.”

“Freezing to death? You’re being dramatic,” Sebastian shot back, crossing his arms. “It’s not that cold. Besides, it’s tradition, Ominis. You know, the thing we always do when it snows?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that tradition,” Ominis said dryly, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smirk.

You smiled faintly at their back-and-forth but stayed quiet, hoping Sebastian would get the hint and move on.

But Sebastian, being Sebastian, wasn’t one to give up so easily. “Come on,” he pleaded, his tone shifting to something almost wheedling. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see. A little snow never hurt anyone.”

You sighed silently, once again attempting to wave Sebastian off. You lifted a hand and made a small pushing motion, hoping he’d interpret it as a gentle "no, thank you." But, unsurprisingly, Sebastian was undeterred.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t keep hiding up here forever. We’re your friends—we demand your presence!”

Ominis tilted his head, the faintest hint of irritation flickering across his features. “Sebastian, she doesn’t want to go.”

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by the firmness in Ominis’ tone. “How do you know?” he asked, his confusion evident. “She didn’t say—”

“She doesn’t have to,” Ominis interrupted, his voice even but laced with finality. “Unlike you, I actually pay attention. And I know she’s perfectly happy here, where it’s warm and quiet, and she doesn’t have to listen to you yelling about snowball fights.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened as if to argue, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. For a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback, as though it had only just occurred to him that Ominis might know something he didn’t.

You watched the exchange with a mix of relief and guilt, unsure whether to feel grateful for Ominis’ defense or apologetic for putting him in the position of having to defend you in the first place.

But then Sebastian's gaze flicked between the two of you, realization dawning on his face.

“Oh,” he said finally, his voice softening. He ran a hand through his hair, looking vaguely sheepish. “Alright,” he said. “I get it. No snowball fights for the hermits. I’ll leave you to your… brooding.”

He turned back around and the door creaked shut behind him. The room fell silent once more, the faint whistle of the wind outside the only sound.

Ominis let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head as he turned back toward you. “I don’t know how he has so much energy,” he said, his voice soft and wry.

You smiled faintly, your gaze lingering on him as he reached for the thermos again.

After a moment, his expression softened. “Are you alright?”

You nodded resolutely, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. You’d grown used to Sebastian’s unrelenting enthusiasm over the years—his energy was part of what made him… well, Sebastian. Still, the way Ominis had stepped in so effortlessly, his quiet understanding cutting through the noise, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t deny.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, as if studying your silence. He didn’t press further, trusting your nod for what it was, but something in his posture relaxed further when you leaned forward and reached for his hand.

Your fingers brushed lightly against his, tracing the smooth wood of his wand before carefully untangling it from his grasp. He let it go without question, his hand relaxing in yours as you gave it a gentle squeeze, his long fingers curling instinctively around yours.

You glanced at him again, tracing the elegant slope of his nose and the gentle part of his lips, the sharp line of his jaw, and the way the winter light softened the pale angles of his face. There was something so profoundly beautiful about him, a beauty that extended far beyond his aristocratic features—beyond the graceful lines of his profile and the delicate curve of his mouth when he allowed himself to relax.

No, his beauty lay in the quiet depth of him, in the way he simply understood.

Ominis had an uncanny way of cutting through the noise, of seeing people—not with his wand or the faint outlines of their presence—but with a deeper kind of clarity, one rooted in intuition and kindness. He never fumbled through the awkward sympathies others so often offered. He had never pitied you, never tried to "fix" you, never made you feel like the silence you carried was something that needed explaining. He simply accepted it, just as he accepted you.

And yet, that acceptance only made the ache in your chest deepen. It burrowed in, unshakable, a quiet yearning you were terrified to voice but felt all the same.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring until his soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Is there something on my face?” he teased gently, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. You stiffened slightly, your cheeks warming as you quickly looked away, but his voice stopped you before you could retreat too far into yourself. “Don’t,” he said softly, the teasing gone now. “I don’t mind. Really.”

You turned back to him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but there was none. Then he tilted his head, a familiar look of curiosity crossing his face.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

You nodded, already prepared to give him your full attention.

“Can you… try to describe the color blue to me again?”

You blinked, your chest tightening as you remembered the first time he’d asked you that same question years ago. It had been during your fifth year, in a similarly quiet moment, when the two of you had been working together in the library. Back then, the question had caught you completely off guard, and you’d struggled to find the words, fumbling through clumsy metaphors and vague comparisons until he’d laughed softly and said, “Don’t worry. It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

And yet, he was asking again.

Ominis must have sensed your hesitation, because he tilted his head further, his expression softening. “You don’t have to if it’s too much,” he added hastily.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “No,” you murmured softly, your voice carrying a gentle steadiness that surprised even you. “I would love to.”

His smile widened just slightly, a quiet encouragement that eased the tension in your chest. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t press or rush you. He simply waited, patient as ever, his head tilted toward you with that same thoughtful expression.

You took a slow breath, glancing beyond the tower where the snowfall blurred the edges of the world. “Blue,” you began, the word delicate on your tongue. “It’s… calm. Like the way the castle feels early in the morning, before everyone wakes up. Quiet and… soft.”

“It’s endless,” you continued, your voice growing steadier with each word. “Like the sky on a clear day… or the ocean when it stretches out so far you can’t see where it ends. Blue is... how the world feels after a storm, when everything is still and clean."

Ominis hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful, as though he were letting the images settle in his mind. “...what about red?"

You paused. Red? He had never asked about that color before. Your fingers brushed the fabric of your skirt as you gathered your thoughts, unsure how to capture something so vivid and raw compared to the soft serenity of blue.

“Red,” you repeated softly, the word lingering on your tongue. You closed your eyes for a moment, searching for the right way to begin. “It’s… intense. It’s the opposite of calm, like fire—the kind that warms you on a cold night but can burn if you get too close.”

“It’s bold,” you continued, your voice gaining strength. “It demands to be noticed. Like the way the sun burns on the horizon at dusk, or the petals of a rose in bloom. It’s… like it’s always moving, always burning, always… feeling.”

Ominis hummed softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the thermos. The sound was contemplative, thoughtful, and carried with it a weight that made your heart skip. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“Red,” he said again, as though tasting the word. “...sounds a bit like Sebastian, doesn’t it?”

You blinked at him, startled by the comparison, but then quiet laughter escaped you before you could stop it. It was soft, barely more than a breath, but Ominis’ smile grew at the sound, as though it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

“And you,” he continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, more thoughtful, “you must be blue.”

The laughter died in your throat, replaced by a stunned silence as his words settled over you. Your chest tightened, your pulse quickening as you tried to process the weight of what he’d just said. “Me?” you asked softly, barely able to get the word out.

Ominis nodded, his pale eyes unseeing but somehow fixed on you in a way that made you feel completely exposed. "Definitely." Then, with a faint smile tugging at his lips, he added, “It’s a good thing blue’s my favorite color, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you, the ache in your chest growing heavier and warmer all at once.

You’re blue. Blue is my favorite color.

He tilted his head toward you, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his mouth. “Though, for the sake of my sanity, let’s not tell Sebastian, shall we? He’d throw a fit, I’m sure. Something dramatic and unnecessarily loud about not being my favorite.”

You stiffened, unsure what you felt more: the thrill of his admission or the quiet terror that came with it. Ominis didn’t say things lightly—not like Sebastian with his boisterous declarations. Every word he spoke carried meaning, even when he tried to hide it behind humor.

And this? This was no different.

You wanted to say something, to let him know how much his words meant to you, but you couldn’t find the words—couldn’t trust your voice to steady itself enough to respond.

Instead, you reached for your bag, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled out the small notebook you always carried with you. Ominis tilted his head toward the sound, his expression curious but patient as you flipped to a blank page.

Your hand moved quickly, the ink bleeding into the paper as you scrawled out your thoughts in a hurried but deliberate hand.

When you finished, you turned the notebook toward him, your chest tightening as his hand brushed lightly against yours to find the edge of the parchment. His wand trailed along the page until it found the text, and he began to read, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Ah, I see... working our way through the rainbow, hm?” he murmured, his voice quiet but tinged with warmth, “Alright, tell me about green, then.”

You hesitated for a moment, the enormity of what you were about to share making your chest tighten. But then you took a deep breath and began to write again. This time, the words came more slowly, each one deliberate, as if you were crafting something far too precious to rush.

When you finished, you turned the notebook back toward him, your fingers trembling slightly as you placed it in his hands. His touch lingered against yours for just a moment before he tilted his head toward the page. His wand found the first line, and you watched as his lips parted faintly, reading the words under his breath.

"Green is quiet and steady, never shouting for attention but always present. It’s subtle and unassuming, yet it fills every corner it touches with life and hope. It’s the sound of wind rustling through the trees, the softness of moss beneath your feet, and the earthy scent of rain-soaked ground. Gentle yet resilient, green endures—always waiting to grow, no matter how cold or dark the world becomes."

Ominis stilled as his wand hovered over the final lines, his breath catching ever so slightly.

“Green is my favorite color,” he read aloud, his voice soft and steady, though you could hear the faintest tremor beneath it. “And you're green.”

Ominis’ lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but no words came. His fingers tightened slightly on the edges of the notebook before he set it down slowly, carefully. His wand followed, placed deliberately on top of the pages, forgotten in the stillness of the moment.

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it, each thud echoing in your ears and resonating in your chest. Your throat was dry, your breath shallow, and for a moment, you felt completely frozen in place. The only movement was the snow drifting lazily outside, its quiet beauty mirroring the fragile stillness between you.

Then, he lifted a hand, tentative and slow, as though unsure of himself. His fingers hovered in the space between you, searching, hesitant. You knew what he was looking for, and with the faintest movement, you leaned into his reach.

His fingertips brushed your cheek first, featherlight and cautious, before his palm settled against your skin. His hand was warm despite the cold, his thumb tracing an achingly gentle path along your cheekbone before moving lower, brushing the corner of your lips.

He hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as he drew in a shallow breath. “...May I?”

You swallowed hard, heart thrashing wildly against your ribs. But you nodded. And then, slowly, achingly slowly, Ominis leaned in.

His lips met yours in a kiss so soft, so tentative, it felt like the gentlest of questions—a silent plea, a quiet wondering, seeking something only you could give.

You froze for the briefest second, your breath catching in your chest as the warmth of him flooded your senses. And then, slowly, you answered. You tilted your head ever so slightly, leaning into him, and with that simple movement, you gave him his answer. Yes. Yes, this was real. Yes, this was what you wanted. Yes, you were here.

His breath hitched, a soft, uneven sound that sent a warmth cascading through your chest, and the tension in your shoulders began to unravel. He relaxed too, his lips moving against yours with a quiet intensity, like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he’d ever admit. And maybe he had.

Maybe you both had.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested gently against each other, your breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the Astronomy Tower. Ominis’ lips quirked into a small, almost boyish smile, and you felt the light brush of his fingers against yours, warm and steady—a grounding presence amidst the rush of emotions coursing through you.

“Teal,” he murmured, his voice soft, threaded with amusement, though there was a flicker of something deeper beneath it—something tender.

You blinked, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh?”

“Teal,” he repeated, his smile growing slightly as he tilted his head toward you. “If I'm green, and you're blue… does that make us teal? Or turquoise, maybe?”

The unexpectedness of his comment startled a laugh out of you, the sound light and warm as it bubbled up in your chest. Ominis smiled at the sound, his expression softening into something so achingly tender that it left you feeling lightheaded.

“Teal, turquoise… what’s next? Aqua?” you teased, the corners of your lips tugging upward into a grin. “Or maybe cyan?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?” he asked, his voice dropping to something softer, something that made your heart ache. “Whichever one we are… it’s ours.”

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reyesstrand · 15 hours ago

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I wish you would write a fic where they remedy the 'he fell asleep during sexi-time' situation

(so. reading this back i’ve realized something possessed me and this is probably not what you were hoping for anon 😭 but once the idea got in my head i just ran with it. sorry!!)

“So, how are we doing today?”

It feels like a reprise of their first session. It’s raining, today, and the gentle tap tap tap of it against the windows feels like a comforting embrace. Not just for the serenity, but because things have been good, recently. The pit of hope that they can make it through anything has only bloomed inside him since they first saw Dr. Spencer, and it keeps him afloat as he leans to the side so he can keep holding Carlos’ hand.

The first few questions are geared toward Carlos, as Dr. Spencer—Helen, she keeps reminding them—asks him about his work; about any changes he might have made recently after previous revelations about grief and finding answers at the bottom of a case file. It still takes a few moments for Carlos to put his thoughts together, to be vulnerable, but he reflects on all that’s changed in the past two weeks as TK gets lost in staring at his husband.

He crosses one leg over the other and feels at peace, as he reminisces on this morning’s brunch at a new place uptown, where they ate on a colourful patio and shared chilaquiles while sipping on iced lattes. TK absentmindedly plays with his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger with his thumb, as he takes in the way Carlos looks younger, now that he’s here in this office out of uniform.

He still grapples with a weight too big to name, visible in the slight hunch of his shoulders and his need, today, for his glasses, but he looks beautiful just the same—curls not tamed by any gel, his arms bursting in his maroon t-shirt.

“You look like you agree, TK,” Helen says, snapping him from his reverie. Carlos had been talking about how there’s still work to do, but they’re good, again. More like how they used to be.

“I do,” TK nods, squeezing back when Carlos grips his fingers tight. “It started on the night of our anniversary, actually.”

“Tell me about it,” Helen encourages, pen poised above her notepad but her warm gaze focused on them both.

“We just…connected, again,” TK starts, gazing over at his husband to find Carlos already looking at him.

That night is something rich in vivid colour to him, a treasured keepsake that he cradles in the space between his ribs and his heart. He remembers his pulse jackrabbiting when Carlos looked imploringly at him; when Carlos spoke the words TK’s always believed to be true, that every moment they share is a gift.

TK also remembers the kiss. The moan he fed into his husband’s mouth when Carlos’ hand gripped the back of his neck and pivoted them so TK was pressed against the dining table; the shivers that traveled up his spine when Carlos’ knee pushed between his legs.

“You had a long day,” TK gasps, as Carlos bites down on the hinge of his jaw. “You’re sure you’re—”

“Baby, I’m sure,” Carlos tells him, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. He steps away, then, and walks toward their bedroom. With a crook of his finger, Carlos’ voice sounds wrecked as he half-pleads, half-commands, “Come here.”

TK can still feel the weight of his husband: on his body, against his thighs, on his tongue. TK looks at Carlos again, and feels a dimple carve into his cheek as he shrugs one shoulder and tells Helen: “He didn’t fall asleep on me this time.”

Carlos rolls his eyes playfully, but strokes his thumb over TK’s knuckles. “Never living that one down, huh, babe.”

TK grins, and wants to sit in the familiarity of their teasing longer, but something more prods at his brain.

“We aren’t—I don’t think we can be what we once were, exactly,” TK admits, looking now at the patterned carpet under their feet. “But we aren’t the same people we were before my mom died. We aren’t the same people we were before we lost our first place together. And I think this path we’re on…I think it’ll take time, but, we’ll be better. We always make it through.”

Carlos gives him a watery smile, and presses a kiss to the back of TK’s hand. “Always.”

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

#answered #tarlos #my fic

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somereaderinblue · 3 days ago

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Your Odysseus of Troy AU makes me insane actually (positive). Like I can't explain it but it just makes me want to smash concrete with a sledgehammer. Like in the Odyssey/in Epic Odysseus isn't always in control, but we always know that there's a way out, even if things are bad. He still has a direction. But him being trapped in Troy with a husband he hates and not being able to just leave because he won't risk his son like that- being trapped because of love, but not towards the man who married him- It makes me ill in the best way. Capable characters being made to sacrifice their autonomy is my favorite. Anyways, I said I couldn't explain and then I explained way too much. Love what you're doing 👍

TQSM. Seeing this in my inbox made my day & also made me insane because my mind went to places.

What I love about the Iliad characters is how many of them parallel & contrast each other. Achilles & Hector, Hector & Odysseus, Clytemnestra & Penelope, etc.

When you think about it, Paris & Odysseus' stories both have this similarity: they chose love. However, Paris' is a subversion of the trope whereas Odysseus' (esp in EPIC) is an exploration on how far one goes for it.

Both Paris & Odysseus are a goddess' champion & don't just embody typical warrior aspects (Paris=charm & Odysseus=wit). Both were fated to endure & cause suffering. Both were willing to pay the price (friends, family, a whole city) for love. Now here's where the lines intersect & diverge.

Prior to the golden apple fiasco, Paris already had a wife & son, both of whom he chose to leave behind to become a prince. Then when the judgement happened, he decided that the consequences that come with pissing off 2 goddesses was a fair price to pay for 'love'. Except the love in question does NOT love him. Heck, his own family sees him as a nuisance or a failure. Still, he stubbornly clings onto the belief that Odysseus/Helen will eventually love him & he'll be happy because surely he'll get that much? Surely, everything will be worth it?

As we all know, Ody's main personality trait is loving his wife & son and if he was asked to judge he'd point out he's not fitted because he already has the love of the most beautiful woman: Penelope. That & well, as Athena's champion it'd be biased which is counterproductive to the whole judging thing.

On a more serious note, the 'love' Odysseus pushed through for is a love he got with his own hands, a love that he's already had for 10 years before shit hit the fan. And after everything he went through? He got that. Unlike Paris, who lost everything, including Helen & was rejected by Oenone, Penelope didn't hesitate to declare that Odysseus is her husband, she loves him, he's hers, period. Everything Ody went through was worth it.

Sorry if this went a little off the rails but again, thanks for the ask & support <33

#epic the musical #odysseus of troy au #odysseus #paris of troy #asks #tfw a self-indulgent AU sends you down a rabbithole of analysis

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riptides-n-roses · 1 day ago

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Hiii! First I want to say I love your posts and one of the best! Second I Would like to request a Roman X Reader when he lost at WrestleMania 40 and how he would be like with reader backstage? If not it is fine!

GGRRAAAHHH! OFC OFC! I CRIED SO HARD THAT NIGHT OMFG! THIS ONE SHALL BE FLUFF FOR ONCE! ♡

changes - roman reigns

⛧ pair: roman reigns x reader

⛧ tags: @88changemymind @cyberdejos2 @reigns-prophecy [huge thank you to anon]

⛧ no warnings/smut this time. Just an emotional roman after an incredible match and reign.

⛧ writers block is the absolute worst omg. I'll go ahead and be honest, sometimes smut gets a little too hard to write and I don't really want this blog to just be smut. This will be my first fluff since most of my drafts are smut related. Also again this one is short but I hope it's a fun little read.

⛧ after an incredible title reign, things will be different but right now all roman can ever need right now is you.

⛧ word count: 588

Wrestlemania.

The biggest night in WWE. All superstars have an amazing opportunity to make a change or write history for the books.

This was also a night for some big title cards. One of which was your partner, Roman Reigns. He is the Trible Chief, The Head of The Table. The main event was when he takes on Cody Rhodes, for the Undisputed WWE Universal Championship.

It was a match everyone was talking about that sparked a lot of debate on TV and social media. Tonight's main event was going to be talked about all year regardless of the outcome.

You held Roman tight in your arms, giving him a big hug before his match.

"You're going to do great out there" you started, "it'll be a night to remember."

"I know it will." Roman replied, gently stroking your hair. "I made a lot of history with this title"

After a warm embrace for what seemed like forever, you let him go, giving him a kiss on the cheek as a signal for good luck.

.•°☆.⋆｡⋆☆•˚｡⋆｡˚•☆˚｡⋆.☆•°.⋆

1...

2...

3...

Cody had finished the story. The new champion held the newly claimed title high as the audience roared.

"Here is your winner...and the NEW Undisputed WWE Universal Champion...The American Nightmare: Cody Rhodes!"

You watched the screen in the guerilla with tears in your eyes. This was one of the most beautiful moments in WWE storytelling. A lot of stories have been written and not just for Cody but for everyone involved.

You couldn't imagine how Roman feels in this moment. He's successfully held the title for an incredible reign of 1,316 days. 3 years. That was already impressive on its own status.

After the pay per view went off air, Roman was desperately looking for you.

"Y/N!" You heard him call out for you. You immediately went to go look for him, needing to give him the most well deserved love he needed.

When Roman saw you, he immediately rushed into your arms, holding you tight.

"Hey baby...I saw" you started, "Are you okay?"

It took Roman a bit to respond, knowing the entire match was a lot to take in.

"Tonight was a moment..." His tone was soft "I've made a name for myself, including my in ring career..."

You listened to him, allowing him to state how he felt in this moment.

"What I'm trying to say is...I'm happy. Not because of my reign but because of what it meant for wrestling. For this company..."

You felt him shiver, you think he was caught up in his feelings.

"I love you so much, y/n... you truly have helped me with everything for the 3 years I've held that championship."

Roman looked into your eyes, small tears forming in his eyes. You smiled and gave him a soft kiss on his lips.

"I love you too, Roman. I'm happy I can be there for you..."

He smiled when he heard how you loved him.

"I know everything will change now...but you're still you, Roman. You've made an impact for WWE. You should be proud of yourself."

"Don't worry I am" He laughed, "Would you...like to get something to eat before we make it to our hotel room?"

You smiled, giving him another kiss "Sure. I think that'll make you feel better. We can get food and laugh about good times."

"Sounds like a plan"

The two of you kissed one more time before going to your dressing room, holding hands on the way there.

"I love you, y/n."

#wwe oneshot #roman reigns fluff #romanreignsimagine #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #fluff #short one shot #wwe #wrestlemania #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction

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hishumanbelle · 3 days ago

Text

Warnings: Very smut (I'm perv, sorry). +18. Oral sex, sex, bottom/top!Alastor, and you know… pleasure, love, Alastor.

Part one.

The following days you felt a little better, but it didn't last long. With the others you went back to having a tired and sad look, your eyes hollowed out from frequent crying. Alastor noticed this new discomfort of yours and approached you, taking you by the hand and leading you to a corner of the room. "What did you promise me?", he asked with a warm voice but with a hint of disappointment, his face on yours. "To come to you if I still felt like this", you replied with your eyes turned to the ground, your expression showing discomfort. "And...? Why didn't you do it?", he asked, bringing his other hand to your chin to turn your attention to him. "I... I-I don't want to burden y-you with my problems. You're n-not the one who should w-worry about my condemnation. My problems are only mine. I don't want to disturb or distress you", you replied harshly and with tears that flooded your eyes again. "Deborah...", Alastor said feeling helpless and wrapping your head in his arms, holding you close. "It hurts me to see you like this", he said almost in a whisper. He didn't say anything else, knowing that words couldn't do anything. His grip spoke, his chin pressing on your head and his powerful arms holding you tightly to him. The other guys looked at you, but said nothing and Alastor narrowed his eyes to them. Alastor gently pulled away from you and with his hand in yours he took you to his room.

He opened the door to let you in first. The room was painted dark red, of course, and candles scattered around made the environment comfortable. The ceiling was the sky, dark blue and spotted with sparkling stars. In the middle was a bed with red and black silk sheets, and further into the room you could see the forest of shades of blue, green and fireflies that were shining. It was beautiful. "It's incredible! Are you the creator?", you asked in a tone of wonder, and Alastor nodded smiling. His gaze studied you carefully, flattered to see you so amazed, and he would have liked to see you like this always; smiling, happy, enthusiastic. Alastor was still near the door, which he locked and walked slowly into the room until he reached you, his body pressed against your back, his hands rested on your shoulders moving and reaching down towards your hands, grabbing and intertwining them. His chin rested on your shoulder near your neck. "Deborah...", he said breathing in your scent. "You must always be like this, it wears me out to see you like before", he said in a voice broken by torment. "I... can't get away from you, I feel the need to be close to you. To protect you", he said, twisting a finger in your locks. "But if I stopped being like this, you'd leave me?", you said with a hint of sadness in your throat. "Absolutely not, what I feel for you wouldn't change", he replied firmly, brushing his lips across your neck just below your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "And what do you feel for me, Alastor?", you asked with a glint in your eyes as you lost yourself feeling his breath on your neck. "Desire, but not just carnal", he replied, growling and nuzzling your neck near the pulsating carotid artery now. His lips opened to suck right there for a brief moment. "Let me love you", he whispered on your skin. "Let me in", he whispered again turning you towards him, moving his lips lower and lower and lowering itself, tracing a path of kisses down from the neck, down towards the breasts, in the middle of the trachea and further down to the abdomen and to the most intimate area. Your skin burned at the sound of his voice and his passionate touch.

You gasped, rolling his name between your lips. Alastor knelt in front of you, lifting your silk dress, one of his hands went under your knee to lift your leg and place it on his shoulder for a better angle. With his other hand and his teeth he helped himself to slide your panties down your thighs, making them reach your bare ankles and removing them from one foot. His gaze intense on yours. "Don't hold back", he sighed, brushing your intimate lips. With his warm and firm tongue he began to lick your clit, making small circles and gentle licks. With his mouth he took your clit, grabbing it to bite and suck it, making you gasp in pleasant pain. Your hands gripped his horns, arousing in him a pleasure never felt before that made him pant and vibrate in you, responding in turn. His name hung on your lips. While Alastor licked and sucked your clit, he used his hand to caress the outside of your pussy, rubbing between your folds. When you were sufficiently lubricated, he entered first with one finger, pushing all the way in, and then added another. His fingers gently went in and out of you, running over all your walls and touching your most hidden spots. The more his fingers moved inside you, the more pressure he exerted on your clit and not only that… when he felt you squeeze around his fingers, he pushed the tips of them up to your g-spot arching them from above. You were in heaven… lost in the ecstasy of pleasure.. The heat in your abdomen became hotter and hotter, your muscles a bundle of tension ready to come. "Ah-Ah-lastor, I'm about to cum", you said, panting and squeezing his horns tightly. Alastor continued without changing intensity or speed, also panting, fearless of feeling you cum. His vibrations stimulated your cervix and clit, causing you a terrible wave of enjoyment and pleasure. Alastor continued to lick and finger you, slowing down to allow you to fully enjoy the orgasm, inserting another finger into your anus, pushing and making your mind go numb.

Your hands gripped tighter to his horns that were growing out of proportion with excitement. His hungry growl echoed in his chest, amplified in his mouth and echoed on your sensitive nerves. Alastor also grabbed your other knee and brought your other leg to his shoulder, while with a tentacle he held you so you wouldn't lose your balance. His teeth rubbed on your flesh accentuating the sensation of pleasure. Your legs were an incessant tremor and your hips swayed in ecstasy, sailing on his mouth. His gaze was fixed on yours, you were pure nectar to him. Your expressions, your moans... everything belonged to him. Your orgasm hit you like a waterfall in full flow and everything was swept away by that wave. Everything. Your mind completely enveloped in pleasure and by him. Alastor slowed slightly and gently removed his fingers from inside you to bring them to his mouth and lick your juices. "You’re delicious", he said in a sinful tone, "my favorite flavor", a mischievous grin on his face.

You leaned into him, bending over and kissing him deeply; your tongues one with all your desire and you could taste yourself on him while your hands gripped his hair. Your body burned for him. You made him stand up and taking one of his hands you led him in front of the bed, placing him with his back to it. "You're playing a dangerous game, Alastor", you said, leaning towards his ear and grinning, sighing those words in his ear and biting his earlobe. With one hand you pushed him onto the bed, and he fell. "What are you planning?", he asked with a strange grin of vulnerable prey. "Shut up", you hissed. Sinuous and like a lioness you crawled towards him, walking and rubbing your breasts on his thighs and bulge. Alastor was panting slightly. "You know I'm in charge", he said bitterly and with a look of disappointment. Your hands caressed his now naked chest after having unbuttoned and opened his jacket and shirt, sliding them further down towards his pants. With your fingers you took his belt and opened it, your gaze locked on his. Once you unbuckled it you took it and brought it upon his head, taking one of his hands and kissing it, licking his fingers slowly and sucking, and the same with the other hand, bringing them above his head and tying them together. While you were on top of him and he looked at you annoyed, he tried to bite your breasts. "Be a good boy", you said smirking. "I have never been", he hissed, grabbing one of your hard nipples through your dress. A gasp escaped you. Once you finished tying his hands you kissed him on the mouth, going down with your tongue and running along his neck and chest, continuing to kiss him, further and further down, until you reached his protuberance, while your fingers remained on his chest now caressed his pectorals and teased his nipples tickling them, causing him pleasure and pain. His gaze did not leave you and his expression was more and more in despair. Your hand took the tip of his hard cock for you and started to move down and up again. His tight skin followed your movements forming sweet folds of desire becoming more and more rigid. His eyes lit up in the dark fixed on you, his thighs spread and his muscles became tense, the sensation was pleasant for him. Your movements were slow, and as you moved up with your hand, you surrounded his glans with your whole hand so as to tease the little spot under it. Alastor hissed. Looking at him mischievously, you approached his head with your mouth spitting on it slightly, so as to lubricate him to feel more. With the other hand you played with his balls while with the hand that held him you began to move applying more pressure, his more tense thighs trembled from the spasms you sent him.

As you moved it, unexpectedly and as he composed sweet music of pleasure, your mouth engulfed the tip of his cock. "Ah-ah!", Alastor exclaimed. Raising his legs a little and spreading them in a rhombus and moving his head back. Your mouth went further down, fleshy, warm, and the sensation of your warm, wet tongue pressing against his cock made him shiver completely. His mind completely clouded. "De-Deborah", he panted repeatedly. Your mouth continued to move, and your hand continued to tease his balls. With your mouth you went down to the base so as to lick and envelop him completely, and when you went back up you sucked the tip, squeezing harder. The veins of his cock became more exposed, and he spasmed inside your mouth, and the more he did it the more you tightened around it. "Deborah", he said again, sinking his head deeper and deeper into the pillow and starting to move his hips in your mouth.

His cock began to throb with pleasure, desperate to cum. Your movements slowed abruptly and your hot breath was a pained caress on his cock that desperately sought its orgasm. You sucked him once more, staring at him with a cruel gaze, removing yourself and crawling towards him. Alastor spasmed around the cold you had left him, his gaze returning to you, trying to understand what you wanted to do. "I need to make love to you, Deborah, to claim you", he panted abruptly. "Fuck me, then", you replied as from above him you began to rub your wet pussy on his erect cock, without penetration. "Deborah... you're torturing me, even worse than my hellish sentence", a smile made its way onto your face, and he narrowed his eyes. He thrust his hips so that you fell towards him and leaned towards your lips to give you a fierce kiss, and you, in response to his attempt at control, pushed your hips back allowing his cock to enter you. He gasped into your mouth, biting your lip at the unexpected sensation. He was inside you, his cock was penetrating your walls all the way down to its full length. And you were squeezing. "N-no", he gasped loudly. And you squeezed harder. "Ah-ah! You're so t-tight", he said, still gasping and his body tensing. You sat back on top of him, moving your hips slowly, your hands caressing his torso, enjoying the feeling that Alastor was yours for that moment, but your thoughts returned to torment you, your gaze remained in his eyes but your expression changed. He only wanted you for sex, like all men. No one wanted to take the responsibility or patience to love you, to wrap you up, to be with you through everything. And you missed this feeling, you missed THIS. You missed feeling like you belonged to someone, to have deep roots in someone's heart. Alastor noticed the change in mood, he stared at his hands and tried to free them to come to your aid. With his power he freed himself and sat up with his back, sitting under you, inside you. "Deborah, love, what's going on?", he said softly bringing a hand to your cheek, but you pulled away and started to cry. "Dear, it's still me", he said again, trying to get closer to you but trying a different tactic, wrapping you completely in his arms. "What's wrong?", he asked worriedly. "This... this is wrong. Y-you... you're not MINE", you replied crying and holding yourself in his embrace. "You, you don't love me. I need love, I need you, desperately", your tone broke. His arms tightened around you. His expression pained, his smile tight and tight. "You own me", he answered firmly as he stroked your hair. "I own you?", you laughed and his cock moved inside you making you jump. "Alastor, maybe we aren't even friends. You took advantage of my weakness to get closer to me and get what you want—", Alastor moved away to look at you and to silence your mouth with his finger. His cock bigger inside you. "Deborah, you don't understand. If I've come this far it's because I want you, for life. Everything about you drives me crazy and not seeing you drives me to exasperation. Not seeing you smile destroys me. You are everything to me", his hand on your neck that he squeezed as he stirred. "You are everything to me. You are my magnet. I breathe for you, I move with you. Don't you understand? Don't you see?", he asked, bitter and hurt. "Why didn't you ever tell me?", you asked incredulously. "Because I didn't think you felt the same, I am... me. A demon. A monster", he replied, moving his head to the side.

Oh.

Oh...

How long had he kept those feelings for you quiet? Now everything made sense. In your mind the puzzle was pieced together and indeed Alastor had always been attentive to you, but you saw it as a way of controlling. You knew that he had been and was alone all his life and that he wasn't interested in all those sappy or sexual things like the rest of you sinners. And yet, there he was... he took care of you. He worried and cared about you. He made himself available to erase your pain. He was yours and you didn't know it, waiting for you, for a step from you to make him understand that you were there with him too. Your body was exploding. The man you loved had just confessed his feelings for you? Your chest was filled with air, the burning sensation was spreading from your pelvic area to your chest. You wanted to scream, shout to the world how much you loved him. "Ally, I love you", you began to rock on top of him again. Alastor’s nails ran down your back, not scratching you too much. "What are you d—", he asked, but you cut him off by kissing him. Your movements became more frantic, and your hands flew to his face, your gazes locked as your breaths met in midair. His words had ignited desire in you, bringing you to the point of orgasm. "Alastor", you repeated, "tell me I’m yours, only yours", you panted as your foreheads met, moving against each other with your swaying bodies. "You’re mine, Deborah, you’re mine forever, forever... I've got you, I'll never let you go", he panted back, his breath hot on your face. You thrust faster and faster, panting more frequently, as Alastor held you tighter as you rode out your orgasm. "I’m yours", you screamed, and Alastor continued to pump his cock into you, riding your orgasm and squirting inside you. "I love you. I’ve always loved you", he said pressing his lips to yours. He gently pulls away from the kiss to look into your eyes, your foreheads still joined softer than ever, and with one hand he caresses your cheek. "You're stuck with me for eternity, now".

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