#and i remember how it feels to be on the very bottom to the point of forgetting what happiness feels like

[homemadesterekpie]

for the people who watched Downton Abbey do yall remember the arc when Anna gets assaulted by that shit stain of a vallet and starts pushing Bates away because of it? and then Bates practically forces Mrs. Hughes to tell him the truth and the goes to “confront” Anna about it?

well i’ve always wanted a story like that for Sterek. the sheer emotional satisfaction that single scene between Bates and Anna is so beautiful and amazing i always wanted something similar for them.

the only thing that i would change is that Derek would find out on his own about what happened to Stiles.

Stiles feeling absolutely disgusting and drowning in shame about what happened even though none of it was his fault. he can’t look Derek in the eyes anymore. he shuts down every conversations Derek tries to have with him. he evades Derek’s touches like they physically hurt him. he starts sleeping at his dad’s place again even if he’s moved in with Derek months ago.

it comes to a point where Derek thinks he’s going insane because he has no idea wtf is happening. Stiles smells of misery and pain and the smell just keeps getting worse and worse.

until it all clicks together and when it does he’s running at neck breaking speed to the sheriff’s house and he goes through Stiles’ old room’s window like old times and he hears Stiles in the shower so he just stands there and waits for Stiles to come back in his room.

but as he waits he can hear Stiles crying in the shower. and its not pretty, its those painful hacking sobs and wails that sounds distressingly similar to the ones Stiles was making when Derek had been gravely injured after fighting to protect the town against [insert a real nasty villain thingy here] and they hadn’t been sure he would make it.

it takes everything in Derek not to rush into that bathroom and take Stiles into his arms and comfort him but he makes himself wait for him. makes himself listen to Stiles’ anguish until finally the noises subsides somewhat and Stiles finally makes it out of the shower and the bathroom.

at the first sight of him Derek’s heart gives a painful pang. now that he knows what happened he wonders how he hadn’t pieced it all together faster, he’d been so blind. but he isn’t now. it takes way too long for Stiles to notice him standing there at the window but his eyes seem to be glued to the floor these days.

when he does notice Derek, his eyes goes wide with shock and the acrid smell of fear almost knocks Derek back a few steps. it’s a smell he hasn’t smelt from Stiles targeted towards him in years. his very soul aches with that realization. but then Stiles’ eyes falls right back to the ground and the smell of fear abates to give way to the distinct smell of shame.

Stiles asks him what he’s doing here. he sounds annoyed. but Derek can hear the tremor in his voice. he can see how tightly wound Stiles is. his shoulders are shaking with it under the thin sleep shirt he’s wearing.

Derek just says he knows. and Stiles stops moving. he was rummaging in his sock drawer but at Derek’s words he goes still.

it takes Stiles multiple attempts but finally he says “what?” and he sounds so small and vulnerable.

Derek just repeats that he knows, he knows what happened and as he does, he approaches Stiles slowly like he’s approaching a wounded animal.

but before he can touch him Stiles darts away from him saying he’s fine. i’m fine Derek, okay i’m fine! but he’s still not looking Derek in the eyes and his bottom lip is wobbling.

Derek decides to try another angle and ask why didn’t Stiles tell him. and immediately tears starts falling down Stiles’ face.

Stiles just says that he was too ashamed and that he knew Derek would find a way to blame himself when it was actually all Stiles’ fault. and then seeing Derek isn’t saying anything Stiles finally adds that he feels too dirty to be with Derek and that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be clean again. and a sob escapes him and thats when Derek finally engulfs Stiles into his arms.

Stiles keeps sobbing brokenly into Derek’s chest and Derek fights his own tears as he tells Stiles in a strained voice just how much he loves him and how he’s Derek’s and nothing would ever change that. Derek would never let him go and would always love him no matter what. he’d always be beautiful and precious to him, etc, etc.

Stiles goes back home with Derek that night. they even make love again. it’s slow and gentle and Stiles cries during it but he never tells Derek to stop even tho Derek asks him about a hundred times. Stiles feels a lot more like himself the next day. Stiles had been so used at having Derek be his rock, his sun, his centre, that pushing him away had made the whole situation worse. Derek is the foundation of his support system.

[miwiheroes]

Hii! I am a miltishipper and I honestly love byler, but I have a small doub. I see people saying, in the first scene in s4 when Mike is reading the card El gave him, Will's binder of drawings is under his bed, and why do you guys know It? I honestly, at first, thought it was a binder with cards from el but yall seem so sure about it so idk hehe.

Plus I really don't understand why would they make the love confession scene, I get that the music playing comes from Will's words and all, but whu would somebody on the writers room just say "let's make a love confession even though Mike is gonna end up with Will"

Ty for reading hope you can address these comments

Hi there!

I understand your confusion for people saying that it is a binder of Will's drawings ahaha, it's definitely not confirmed to be, but the reason why people say that it could be is because, unlike a binder of El's cards, there is confirmed existence of Mike having this binder.

You may not remember this detail, but:

As you can see in season 1, when Mike believes Will to be dead, he decides to go through Will's old drawings. Mike has clearly kept these drawings, or had them given to him, because how else would he own them? It's also clear these are Will's drawings because they all have Will's name in the bottom right corner.

And this right here is the binder on his lap ^^

This is obviously suggested to be full of Will's drawings because what else would it be filled with while he's staring at other drawings right? So to byler shippers this is really sweet because it suggests that Will has been giving Mike these drawings for a really long time, enough for him to have a binder full of them. So we kind of cling onto this cute lil detail ergo...

...we think this is the same binder. In my opinion, it doesn't look like the same one, and tbh, I've never really subscribed to this view that it is his binder of drawings. However, I'm not sure why (when everything in Mike's room is very queer coded) they chose to keep this in the shot along with all the other important details. Plus, it's shoved under his bed, foreshadowing how he's shoving everything else deep down, while the oneway closet sign thing foreshadows him being in the closet lmaoo

Sooo yeah it's way more likely that this is a binder full of Will's drawings than El's cards because that has actually had an appearance on the show before and would have some good symbolic merit.

'Why would somebody on the writers room just say "Let's make a love confession even though Mike is gonna end up with Will".'

To be honest, we don't know yet. YET. That's the whole thing. It's very clear from his words that these are lies, they are provable lies. It's clear that the Painting plot will come back at some point because a lie just can't sit and stay a lie forever, especially not in a show like Stranger Things that confronts every plot point.

All byler shippers really know is that the monologue is untruthful and did not work to save Max. We know that Will's words are used by Mike and that Will has to eventually confess his feelings if his character arc is to be complete. We know that a rejection from Mike would be super duper out of place and a getting over Mike arc for Will would just be a cop-out repeat of season 4.

What we do not truly know for sure is the narrative-plot-story reason for this specific monologue. Meaning: it will come up in a plot point in season 5. We just do not know what that is yet. A lot of the audience that aren't active participators in the Stranger Things fandom do question why they had Mike be constantly talking about El all season, they question why Will was made to tell a lie, they question why Mike said stuff like 'my life started the day my best friend disappeared'.

The writers' intent was to make us question this stuff, and when season 5 rolls around, in Finn's words (or the Duffer Brothers' i guess) 'It'll pay off in the end'. So we will get an explanation and look back on the monologue with a new meaning.

my personal theory is that mike saying i love you actually made el realise that she DID NOT need mike to say i love you to her in the end. before the lab, she thought that mike saying i love you to her is what she needed to feel like she wasn't a monster. however, she went to the lab and actually figured that out all on her own!!!! meaning, the writers probably had mike say i love you to her to make her realise that actually, she did not need this after all. idk

TY FOR UR ASK I LOVE THESEEE

[changelingsandothernonsense]

I'm curious, what are Josh's preferred alcoholic drinks? Would he like to rank them?

Helloo! Josh most certainly has a ranking system and very strong opinions on what can be found in both Morrowind and Skyrim (and may have committed crimes as a result of disliking a particular type of mead). So without further ado.

Best of the Worst- Smashing Edition!

You want my opinion on liquor? Mate, no one asks me my opinion on liquor... I mean I have opinions on drinks... a lot of opinions on drinks it's just I got told I was being a dick about it so I...

No you know what, fuck it! Here's my top an bottom fives.

5. Best- Shein

I'll be honest, I find Shein to be mid as far as drinks go. Then again, I'm pretty sure I prefer something with a flavour profile that can be described as "Dwemeri Oil" because I can't taste shit so take my opinion with a grain of salt. Shein skews a little bitter an sour if I remember rightly an it's not overly strong. It's 'ight in a pinch, yeah? But I wouldn't order it if there was other stuff on the menu.

5. Worst- Ancient Dagoth Brandy

Look, this shit's been sitting in a blight infested hole for the last five thousand years. You can believe Neloth an that fucking Ash Vampire all you want about how "developed" the vintage is but I'm always gonna come back to how it makes me feel like fucking shit! I don't drink to feel like shit, I drink to not feel like shit. So it's shit!

4. Best- Flin

I'm partial to the odd import from the heartland an Flin's one of them. It's a whisky that appeals more to Dunmeri pallets than that of Imperials but because of the old tariffs it's expensive as all fuck! If you can get your hands on it, it's worth the buzz. I can't really speak for anything produced now but when I was younger an could still taste shit it had a smooth, smokey flavour. Doesn't wack out your head so much either. 4. Worst- Greef

An your Morrowind equivalent... if you can really make a comparison. I was never a fan of anything that was comberry forward and greef is like you got a bush of the shit an threw it in a wet barrel for six years an... actually I think that's just how you make it. Point is that I started drinking it when I was like 15 coz it's cheap as all fuck. I don't know how that equates to how men age but it's like early adolescenceish. Anyway, point is I drank so much of the stuff that I was spewing for the whole next fucking day. Shit gives me a headache almost immediately these days. I'll drink it only if I'm desperate.

3. Best- Wine, just wine!

It's hard for me to find shit I like in Skyrim and Cyrodiil. Mostly because they keep insisting on mixing everything that isn't mead with milk an that's a fucking disaster waiting to happen! My go to in the lands of men is wine. It gets me sloshed an goes down well enough. I've noticed Nords like jazbay grapes but I've always found they turn shit a little... weird? I don't know how to explain it. Usually i'll order an imported wine to avoid the addition of that ingredient. Get's me nice an drunk relatively quick so that's a good enough reason for it to be here. 3. Worst- Emberbrand Wine

This isn't because it's bad, necessarily, quite the contrary if I'm honest. Like sure there's that jazbay weird going on but um... This is on my shit list because it's a bit too potent, if you know what I mean? Like I shouldn't get two cups in an start feeling an urge to commit arson, yeah?

Give it a skip if you like sleeping in your own bed.

2. Best- Sujamma

There's a reason sujamma is a popular drink back home an that's because it does a few key things- One it fucks you up well an good an two it makes you feel like you're on top of the world. Sure it fucks with your magicka but who the fuck cares when everyone sounds less fucking annoying an you feel like you could mount a wild Alit. Um... don't try that.

Geldis makes a pretty fantastic version of it. Pretty much every clan has their own recipe, so sujamma from Blacklight tastes different from what you'll find in Narsis. Regardless, it's always a treat.

2. Worst- Honeybrew Mead

Look, I just don't fucking like mead, okay? It's weak as all shit an I need like half a keg to get the same buzz I'd get after a few glasses of sujamma. That means I'm spending too much money to get my hit, an if you know me you'll know I hate having to spend fucking money! I hear that mer generally don't like honey wine an I'm no exception. Maybe I'd feel different if I could still taste sweet things but considering I pretty much choose what I drink based on mouthfeel an how quickly any beverage can get me sloshed mead just comes up short every time. At least honeybrew doesn't remind me of warm piss which is like the worst crime you can commit in my opinion. I'd still choose this over my worst option...

Best- Matze

What isn't there to like about matze? It's a smooth drink that goes down easily an can be infused with whatever the fuck you want. It's a type of saltrice wine that some westerners compare to beer but like it's not any sort of beer I've tried. Beer tastes like piss, this doesn't. My favourite is a brew infused with jasmine flower an strained until the liquid's clear. You pair that with like some choice grapes and a steaming bath an a good book an you got yourself an evening. Matze, like sujamma is cheap as all fuck an each region back home has their own version of it. It's potent enough that you don't need much to make you feel like you're on top of the world an it's cheap enough that you can supply a whole group of idiots to join you on that alit mounting adventure I mentioned earlier. Still don't recommend trying to mount an alit though. What Erra's good at is not the kind of shit I'm good at, and probably not what you're good at either.

You want to know the quickest way into my bed, buy me a round of this. 1. Worst- Black Briar Mead

I don't want this, I don't know anyone who fucking wants this! If you want this I seriously have to fucking question your taste in literally everything! Not even Sydari likes it an she's the whole reason this shit's flooded every inn in fucking Skyrim! Look, Miluth likes gold more than liquor an I like liquor more than I like breathing so... you know. I remember when she dragged me to the brewery there whilst doing an inspection for the Guild and left me on a "Tasting Tour". That was mistake number one. I've always been really um...vocal to her about my dislike of Nordic swill but I didn't think anything could be as fucking bad as what's in this shitty blue bottle right here! I tasted enough varieties to tell you that I was still sober after an hour an I was fucking livid about it. Then I was given this reserve an I was beside myself! I seriously thought I was being fed piss. So I thought I would do a bit of an experiment, yeah? I pissed in an empty bottle coz even if you're not getting sloshed this shit still goes right through you an I just placed it back into the shelf. I never intended for the guide to pull it straight from the shelf an feed it to the fucking brew master who was possibly the most miserable looking s'wit I've ever met! I'd never laughed so hard in my life! Anyway I'm not allowed back in there an if you ever feed me this shit I'll do the same to you!

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[lovemomhatepolice]

what brought back that smile? - lando norris

navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: kinda established relationship, fresh relationship, curious muppets!, English is my second language!

type: fluff, pure fluff

word count: 3,5k

summary: 5 times when someone asked the reason for Lando's sudden surge of happiness, but he preferred to keep his sweet secrets to himself

more content: f1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist, birthday one-shot

Since Lando Norris broke up with his then-girlfriend Luishina in 2022, no one has seen him this happy since. Of course, there have been moments where Lando walked around smiling - for example, when he won his first race in Miami or partying with friends in Ibiza. On more than one occasion, fans saw him joking and laughing until his stomach hurt with other drivers, but further down the line, everyone knew that the old Lando was gone. The one who laughed through love. The one foolishly in love, who proved it at every turn. Since his former relationship, Lando hasn't bonded with anyone - there were only rumors of fleeting romances or PR relationships. Until recently. In fact, no one knows when it took place. And since when Lando felt like a foolishly infatuated boy again.

THE FIRST TIME: Oscar Piastri When Oscar noticed changes in Lando's behavior, it was not much before the Japanese race. Or at least it wasn't so visible before. Norris was walking around smiling from ear to ear, constantly forgetting what he should do or who he should talk to about the changes in the car. No one paid much attention to it, and Oscar initially tried to ignore it as well, and winning in Miami a month later further eclipsed the spy's thoughts. After all, Lando had won his first race after so long in Formula One and so many times standing on the podium. The Mclaren drivers weren't the best of friends on the grid, but Oscar knew it wasn't because of winning the race. Or at least not just because of that.

Oscar was curious, even if he said very little about his life, the Lando case drilled him from the bottom up. And it started off small.

One morning 2 weeks after the Miami race, Lando showed up for a meeting with a goofy smile on his face. His attention was focused on everything during the strategy discussion, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar, poking his teammate under the table. As if awakened from his trance, Lando stopped tapping his fingers against his thigh and turned his head toward the Australian, smiling that silly grin again. “Yeah, all good, mate. “ he asked, tilting his head to the side. Oh, how foolishly charmed he was. “Why do you ask?”

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem... happier these days. What brought back that smile?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Lando hung his head and laughed quietly under his breath, as if he was thinking whether he wanted to say it or rather not. And that was the option he chose, keeping his new infatuation to himself.

“Well, you know, buddy, I won a race recently. A chance to celebrate, huh?”

Oscar laughed, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind that smile, and that Lando was lying right in his eyes. Something - or someone - had brought back that trademark Lando smile. But Oscar decided to let it go for now.

Meanwhile, Lando was smiling to himself. Was it really that noticeable? Could everyone now know his sweet secret?

Such questions were cluttering his mind, but he tried not to worry about them. They were quickly superseded by thoughts of [Y.N]. It was wild how fast she had slipped into his life. What had started as a chance meeting turned into hours of effortless conversation, late-night phone calls, and a connection that had somehow brought him back to life. He hadn't felt this way since…. well, he couldn't remember the last time. And that was the point of it all.

MUPPETS: Carlos Sainz Jr Carlos had known Lando since 2019, so this year was their 5th anniversary of knowing each other. From the very beginning, the men, despite the age difference, got along great. And they soon became friends, too, supporting each other in worse and better moments. You could say they knew each other like the back of their hand, so while Lando was drifting away more and more each possible time during their conversations, the Spaniard had no more questions or thoughts. He was well aware that his younger friend's head was occupied by not something, but someone.

The sun beat down on the lush green of the golf course, the Spanish heat was unrelenting even in the early hours of the day. Carlos set up for his shot, squinting against the blinding glare, while Lando stood to the side, waiting his turn. It was a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the Spanish Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos was glad to be spending it with his best friend.

Until he saw Lando miss every time, which hadn't happened all that often before. Well, okay, Lando was worse than Carlos at golf, but to that extent?

And those constant glances at the phone, which he was so reluctant to leave in the golf cart.

“Ay, muppet. What the hell is wrong with you?” rang out Carlos' voice as he hit the ball.

Of course it flew cleanly where it was supposed to fly. But what's the pleasure of playing as your friend drills a hole in the grass with his club, his other hand constantly checking his phone screen?

"Huh?" Lando snapped out of his trance. This had been happening to him more and more often lately, nay, it had been happening to him for more than three months now.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot all day,” Carlos teased, though his tone was softer, more curious than mocking. “Actually, you’ve been like this for weeks like not months now. So, tell me—who is she?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly turned his attention to the golf ball at his feet, fiddling with his club. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but there was a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. And in fact, I don't think he wanted to get rid of it.

Carlos laughed, poking Lando playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, cabrón. I know you too well and it's been a long time since you've been this happy. So who's the lucky girl? Who brought back that smile?”

Lando sighed under his breath - he knew he could trust Carlos, he was his best friend. He just liked the fact that he and [Y.N] were in a closed bubble of happiness that they had made for themselves in three months. Of course it was still fresh and nothing was certain yet, but Lando gave in. To whom as to whom, but to Carlos he already had to tell. It was drilling him from the inside.

“It's … nothing serious,” Lando finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. “It's just… I'm meeting someone. I'm trying to keep it discreet.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Dude, I've known you long enough to know when you're serious about someone,” he said, and his voice became softer. “And if she makes you smile like that, I'd say it's more than a casual.”

Lando bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through. The truth was that [Y.N] had quickly become the best part of his days.

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally meeting Carlos' gaze. “But for now it's just … between us, sure?

Carlos clapped Lando on the back, a broad grin on his face. “I’m happy for you, hermano. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. But I have to say, it’s good to see you like this again.”

They both laughed and Lando already knew he was lost. Together, with Carlos, were like the biggest gossips, so he quickly unlocked his phone, even jumping up and down with happiness, wanting to show Carlos some pictures of them together. What luck befell him when he found out that [Y.N] also loves to take pictures.

Carlos leaned closer, curious. Lando pulled out a photo from a few weeks ago - from his once-in-a-lifetime date with [Y.N]. They were sitting on a blanket in a meadow somewhere by the water, the golden sunset casting a warm glow over them. The girl's head was tilted toward him and resting on his shoulder, her eyes were crinkling with laughter, and Lando looked happier than Carlos had seen him in a long time. His hand was on the girl's shoulders, visibly embracing her closer to him.

“I want her to be the one, you know?” muttered Lando, smiling even wider when he saw the notification from her.

LUCKY CHARM: Lando's parents Lando was able to hide his fresh relationship from his friends, from his fans and from the rest of the world. But he definitely couldn't hide it from his parents and siblings. Not even a month of knowing [Y.N] had passed when he vividly talked about how much he had fallen in love and how he hoped she was the one and last woman in his life. His loved ones were damn happy to finally see the most sincere smile of his entire life on the face of this little Lando Norris.

The air around Silverstone was charged with electricity, and the energy of the home crowd gave Lando joy like no other race on the calendar. Walking through the bustling paddock, he felt lighter than he had in years. It wasn't just the thrill of racing on his own track - it was the realization that somewhere among the sea of faces there was [Y.N], watching him.

Fortunately, he managed to smuggle her into a private hospitality suite, away from prying cameras, journalists and fans. They had been seeing each other for almost four months, in truth they were not a couple, but everything was going for it. Lando wasn't the only one who was foolishly infatuated with the relationship; the girl, like him, walked around with her head in the clouds, as her university colleagues or friends seemed to notice more than once. But in her case it was easier to hide, after all, she didn't have a million eyes on her like Lando did.

When Lando entered his private area in the Mclaren garage, he immediately noticed his parents, sisters and brother, who were smiling at him from ear to ear. The entire Norris family had a close relationship with each other, so of course everyone knew about Lando's new sweetheart, whom he had been dating with for four months.

“And there's our smiling boy!” laughed Lando's mother, hugging her son tightly. The driver laughed under his breath, hugging his family one by one, fortunately in a place where the eyes of others did not reach and they could have a moment of peace. “I'm glad you're all here,” Lando said, stroking his younger sister Flo's hair.

“How could we not be here?” asked Oliver, Lando's brother, laughing under his breath.

The atmosphere was great, however, everyone knew this question would come sooner than perhaps it should?

“Well, you know what, tell us where she is,” said Lando's dad, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “You're laughing so hard, I won't believe she's not here.”

“Yes! Show us finally what brought back that smile,” said his mom, echoing her husband.

Lando felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “You two don’t miss a thing, do you?” he said, shaking his head.

“We just want to meet her,” his mum said softly, eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve heard so much about her, and if she’s the reason our son’s been so happy lately, we’d love to say hello.”

After a moment's thought, Lando nodded. “All right. I'll bring her - but behave,” he said with nervous but excited energy.

Lando slipped stealthily out of the garage and headed for his room, which only he and a few Mclaren people had access to. Although it was a rather hidden place, [Y.N] did not complain. She could wait out the time until the race in peace, just as she could go out to Mclaren's garage and watch it there. Lando made her as comfortable as possible.

When the girl saw him, she raised her eyes and smiled warmly in his direction. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he forced her to get up from the soft couch. “But… there is someone who wants to meet you. My family is even dying to meet the woman of my heart.”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled. “I'd love to meet them.”

Holding hands, they returned to the hospitality. When they went inside, Lando's mother sighed quietly and immediately crossed the room to hug [Y.N]. “Oh, how nice to finally meet you,” she said, and her voice was filled with sincere warmth.

“She's beautiful,” Cisca whispered, looking at Lando. The boy only whispered a quiet “I know” and laughed under his breath.

Immediately the whole family greeted the girl, hugging her tightly and bestowing kind words on her, including telling her how happy they were that she was making Lando so happy again. And everything was somehow better. His parents and siblings were talking to the girl he'd had in his heart for several months, and everything was going smoothly. Lando was just standing off to the side, keeping his hand on her back and giving her a little kiss to make her feel better. But he was probably the most stressed one there.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-start jitters begin to overwhelm him. But today he felt a little better than usual.

“I have to go now,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the girl. His parents moved away to give them a moment of privacy.

“You can do it, you're amazing on the track,” she purred, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently correcting his suit.

Lando merely smiled in her direction and without hesitation placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. This was not how they had imagined their first kiss, but in that moment it was their best memory and the time this kiss could have happened. Lando pulled away from [Y.N], their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, giggling under their breath.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-race jitters starting to creep in.

“I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly, turning to her. His parents stepped back to give them a moment of privacy.

“Good luck out there,” she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Lando smiled, but there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “I hope so. This one’s important,” he said softly.

[Y.N] reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve got this, Lando. I believe in you.”

Without thinking, Lando leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a swift, impulsive kiss. It wasn’t planned, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He pulled back, their eyes locking, and they both smiled.

“For good luck,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

And even if he came in third place after the race, it didn't bother him much. He won something better and it was an amazing woman.

HI IBIZA: Max Fewtrell stream Max knew Lando since they were kids. Both could not imagine life without the other person, they were inseparable. Even if it didn't work out for them to be Formula One drivers by their side, it didn't change anything. They were always side by side, and as soon as Max heard about Lando's new crush, he knew this was the one. Norris had never talked so seriously and eagerly about any girl before. And Max liked to tease him about it. But at the same time, he was damn happy.

The warm glow of sunset in Ibiza paints everything with a golden sheen. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell and their group of friends held a casual live stream at their bungalow, which they rented for the whole group of friends. This stream was definitely different from their typical ones, where they played games on two different sides of the screen, but that was good too.

Everyone was more muted than at times when they were playing and shouting at each other. However, the biggest difference could be felt in Lando. He was more subdued, gently but sincerely smiling, and his eyes shone with such happiness that you could envy him.

The stream had been going on for about an hour, and the fans didn't run out of questions. They were inundated with the same questions as always, but today they had more opportunity to answer them because they weren't stressed by the background game. Lando kept getting questions about the Championship, the races, the competition and some side silliness. Until Max caught one significant comment among thousands of others. And of course he had to ask them.

Fan comment: "Lando, what brought back that smile? It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy, and of course that's great, but what's your secret?"

Max looks at Lando with a smile and winks. "Good question," he says, leaning back in his chair. "So, man, what's been making you so happy lately?"

"Oh, you know. Life has been better lately. Beautiful weather, sunshine, we have a beach house. The break from racing is good for me too, my head isn't as busy," Lando replied, playing with his hair and smiling under his breath.

Oh how he lied, how he lied to keep his bubble of happiness calm even longer.

"Really? Gee, I guess I agree with that comment, you're somehow happier lately," said Max, glancing at Lando with a teasing look. He remembered well how Lando had talked down his relationship on the stream, but he wasn't going to do the same to him. "Or maybe you've found a hobby other than Formula One?"

"Maybe," he laughed lightly under his breath, feeling the warmth inside his body. "I guess I just got old and I'm not that rebellious 20-year-old anymore "

"Oh, it's definitely old age, you name it" Max laughed and went back to looking for interesting comments, leaving the matter of Lando's happiness. He wanted his friend to still have peace from prying eyes.

After the stream was over, everyone went their separate ways. Some decided to have a bonfire, but Lando felt he needed the solitude. He walked out to the beach, which they had right outside the gate of their cottage, and felt the cooler evening wind brush his face. He smiled under his breath when he saw [Y.N] by the shore. It wasn't a smile that the cameras could see; he reserved this one for her alone.

The girl was wearing a white loose dress that swayed gently in the wind, and her hair was tousled by the wind. It wasn't a moment before she heard him and gently turned toward him, giving him a beautiful smile. "Have you finished the stream yet?"

"It's been a while now," Lando stepped closer, feeling the sand under his feet surround him pleasantly. "I had to get away from the chaos. And the fans are getting curious, they asked what secret I have"

Girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Secret? What secret?"

Lando smiles mischievously and walks closer. "That I'm the happiest I've been in years." - he says in a quiet but sincere voice.

[Y.N] smiles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Without another word, she steps into his arms, and Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. They stand there for a moment, just the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing in the background. Lando takes a deep breath and places a kiss on her hair, pulling her even closer to him. It was the peace he had needed for a long time

FIRST CHRISMTAS: [Y.N] Lando and [Y.N] had been together for almost half a year. Their lives were filled with happiness that neither of them had ever experienced before. From the first day, they understood each other like two peas in a pod, and that's how it stayed. That's why she was surprised by how happy Lando was.

The couple in love are together in the kitchen, with the countertop in front of them strewn with flour and other ingredients for making gingerbread cookies. [Y.N] is wearing one of Lando's voluminous sweaters and humming a Christmas carol, pacing next to the countertop. Lando, on the other hand, dressed in his loose Mclaren T-shirt and Christmas pajama pants, is trying to roll out the dough, but it's not going well. His hands are covered in flour and the dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin. Well, it's easier to say that his whole body is covered in flour.

"Do you need help, chef?" - asks [Y.N], leaning against the countertop and looking at him with an amused smile.

Lando raises his gaze, feigning impatience. "It's harder than it looks, sure?" - He laughs, combing his flour-dusted hair with his hand. "I thought baking was supposed to be easy."

"It's easy, you just have some manual problems," the girl laughs and moves to his side, gently taking the rolling pin from his hands. "Here, let me," she says, guiding him to the side. Their fingers brush as she takes over, a soft, tender moment.

"Sure, my baking queen," the boy laughs, looking at her with adoration.

"You could do the icing." the girl says, pointing to the already made gingerbread cookies.

Lando's eyes brighten, his smile widening. "Icing, huh? That's sounds better." He grabs a piping bag and starts filling it, but as he attempts to pipe a simple design, it all goes horribly wrong.

“Lando!” she laughs, her eyes crinkling with amusement. The icing has spilled everywhere.

He looks down at his hands, dripping with icing. “Well, that’s not what I had in mind…” He shrugs sheepishly.

“You’re adorable when you try, you know that?” She leans in and wipes a bit of icing from his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin.

“And you’re just adorable,” he says, moving closer to her.

Lando’s hands quickly find their place on her waist, and his face is twisted into a genuine big smile. They both giggle, putting the matter of the cookies aside.

“What brought that smile again, huh?” the girl asks, touching his lips, which is also dirty with icing.

“You,” he says simply, and his voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. "It was always you"

For a moment, they both stand in silence, the hum of the Christmas music in the background, the quiet crackling of the small fire in the corner of the livingroom adding to the coziness of the apartment. It’s a peaceful stillness, the kind that only exists between two people who’ve found something real.

A/N: i know it's no nut november and this should be smut but i swear when i had a vision i had to write this. i hope you like it because i won't lie, i fucking love it!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ not so gentle gentlemen ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. ayato, diluc, neuvillette, zhongli

synopsis — they’re respectful, eloquent, and dignified. they are gentlemen in every sense. but when it comes to how they have you? well, let’s just say there’s nothing gentle about it; 2.2k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. rough sex. orgasm denial. hair pulling. dacryphilia. choking. breeding. size kink. neuvi has two cocks cuz ya know, dragon. cockwarming. double penetration. public sex. fem!reader. sub!reader.

— ayato 𝜗𝜚

there’s a firm hand in your hair and then an ever firmer tug. it’s accompanied by a sharp, deep thrust and all you can do is wail into the sheets. a toned body hovers above your back. you feel the textures of his attire and all its embellishments; it’s rough against your skin. “oh? are you crying, my darling?” ayato’s voice is silky soft on your ears, but there’s a sharp edge that makes you writhe underneath him. the little crystalline beads pour from your eyes in a flood, soaking the sheets. you hear him chuckle coolly. “my, after all of your confidence from earlier, here you are shedding tears. can’t you handle it? is this not the outcome you were so diligently seeking?”

you release a shaky breath. “ayato,” you plead with him, but you know it’s pointless. there’s no use in attempting to change the yashiro commissioner’s mind once he’s set on something, and right now he is set on making a mess of you. “i’m —” a hiccup, “— sorry!”

“sorry?” another ruthless plunge of his cock. your ass feels raw from all the slaps of his pelvis against you. you can’t see him, but you know there’s a goading smirk on his face. “this is quite rich coming from you, my darling. you were creating such a scene, and in public of all places. did you forget we have a reputation to uphold?”

you pout and from the way your face is turned, ayato can see clearly how your bottom lip juts out. your ayato, your kind, patient, loving ayato has transformed into the menace behind you. how he is now and how he is to the public is a night and day difference; you feel simultaneously blessed to witness this exclusive side of him and exasperated. he’s robbed you of countless orgasms at this point — to teach you a lesson, he said — and your body aches. he tugs at your hair again.

“now you’re so quiet. oh goodness, that won’t do.” ayato sets a brutal pace and all you can do is clamber at the sheets and take it. his mushroom tip kisses your cervix and it’s a pleasurable pain. the coil in your tummy is building momentum again and you hope it won’t be torn away from you again.

“ah! ayato!” you sob and it’s shrilled and raspy. one of your hands reaches behind you and clasps at his long sleeve; you’re fully ridden of clothing while he still wears his. it’s a little humiliating, and it’s a sign of his power over you, but you can’t deny the way it makes you leak all over his length. “p-please!”

ayato chuckles, knowing what you’re after but determined to deprive you until you can communicate your need. “please what, darling? i cannot supply your need if you do not tell me what it is.” his cock throbs at the pitiful cry of his name and the squeeze of your walls around him. you’re close, very close.

he’s playing dumb, you know he is. you know what he’s after but what you don’t know is whether or not your poor, muddled brain can put the words together. “ayato, please! let me cum! i need it so bad!”

“is that it?” ayato drags his lips against your ear, pace still ruthless. you’re about to fall apart. “hmm, i suppose you are deserving of it. have you learned your lesson?”

“yes!”

his hand reaches south to pinch at your clit. “very good. you’ll do well to remember what you’ve learned, my darling.”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

“d-diluc…mmh!” your body is folded in half when your legs are thrown over his shoulder. the weight of his body is heavy and it traps you against the mattress; you’re helpless to the ruthless pace of his hips. he’s able to reach so much deeper like this, and it’s maddening and overwhelming to the point you feel like you can’t catch a breath. your knees being pushed into your chest certainly isn’t helping either, though.

your plea falls on deaf ears as diluc continues to batter your insides, resilient in his efforts to mold you to the shape of his cock. you’re clawing at his biceps and he grunts at the sting, but your efforts do nothing to deter him. his vermilion eyes take in the sight of you scrunched and crowded underneath him, eyes glassy and brow dewy with sweat. your hair splays out over the pillow in a wild mess, and drool is at the corner of your lips. “look at you,” he pants. “such a mess. you look so dirty, my love. already so fucked out for me.”

your lover is a sight to behold above you — red mane falling down his shoulders, eyes alight with a burning passion, and his mouth hung open as continuous grunts spill out. he’s like a wildfire in this moment, so opposite to the cool, stoic persona that he displays to the rest of the world. and he respects you always, but right now he’s fucking you so insanely disrespectfully it makes your head spin. there’s nothing elegant in the way he’s taking you. “deep! you’re so, so deep!”

one of diluc’s large, calloused hands wraps around your neck. he chuckles lowly when your tiny hands wrap around his wrist, your pretty eyes blinking away tears as you gaze up at him. “you feel me deep inside, hm? ah, you’re taking me so well. you were fucking made to take my cock like this, my love.”

you feel him knocking against your womb. he’s so big it’s hard to handle him, your gummy walls struggling to expand enough for him. and when he fucks you like this, so hard and fast, you feel as if you might break like porcelain against the hard floor. “s’too much!”

diluc shushes you with a sloppy kiss. “no, no. you can take it. i’ll make you feel so good. i promise. just keep taking me like a good girl, okay?” you’re close and he can feel it from the vice like grip around his shaft. he knows you’re only a few strokes away from falling apart, and he groans because so is he. “and you’ll take all my cum, right? let me breed this pretty pussy. breed it so well, my love. i’ll fill you up so full.”

his voice is low and gravelly and rough against your ears. you whimper as he continues his brutal pace; you’re on the verge of breaking, and just like always, you’ll shatter into a million pieces so beautifully for him. and he’ll be there to pick up every piece of you to put you back together, just to make you fall apart all over again.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

“oh, neuvillette,” you breath, or rather, you try to. your basic functioning seems almost impossible right now when you’re being stuffed so incredibly full. it’s borderline too much, and normally you could appeal to your lover’s tender heart for some reprieve, but not tonight.

neuvillette’s palm that rests against your tummy tightens, pushing against you and forcing you to be even more aware of how far he’s nestled into the depths of you. he’s two cocks deep, stretching both of your holes tautly. you hear his grunt from behind you and feel it on the back of your neck. “hush now,” he commands softly but firmly. “sit still and take it. i wish to continue my work in peace without anymore of your distractions.”

you want to slump forward against his desk, but his grip keeps you from doing so. and you try, really you do! you try to be still, to be good, to be content with the stillness of his hips and the way his cocks remain idle inside of you. they make you ache, just sitting on them is insufferable. you need him to move, to bend you over this large desk and fuck you into it. this is the whole reason you decided to visit him at the palais mermonia this late, after all. a longing for him so great you had to come to him directly, only for him to sit you on his cocks and do nothing more. you grind your hips and try as you might, there is no stopping the moan that slips out of you. the iudex under you tenses.

“did i not make myself clear, my love?” neuvillette has now left the task at hand in favor of holding you with both hands. he exhales heavily at the grip of you around him; you’re maddening and prancing on his very last shred of composure. he likes to pride himself on his self control, especially when at work, but you make him feel insane, like he’s capable of nothing more than his most basic and carnal instincts. “i told you to be still, to not be a distraction, yet you’re so intent on misbehaving.”

you shriek when you’re sent flying forward into the wood desk, your lover now standing behind you, cocks still lodged within. you open your mouth to speak his name but only a choked moan can be heard when he suddenly snaps his hips into your rear. your body is jolted and the documents underneath you are crumbled, though neuvillette doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “f-fuck!”

neuvillette sets a brutal pace, but not before pulling at your shoulder to bring your back flush against his front. your spine arches when his cocks hit those perfect spots deep inside. long gone is the calm chief justice, replaced by the old dragon that you’ve so successfully provoked. “you will take everything i have to give, and you will be content. then you will let me finish my work. do you understand?”

you try to respond, but your ability to speak is lost as you succumb to his bruising pace. there’s a firm squeeze on your shoulder.

“my love, answer me.”

you croak. “i understand, n-neuvillette.”

a kiss to your temple, another bruising thrust. “good girl.”

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

you probably should think twice before making fun of your lover; as patient as he is, even he has his own limits. you never really see his calm demeanor break, if ever, but after being with him for some time, you know certain ways to get under his gold laced skin. he can only take your teasing for so long before you’re quickly being reminded of the god of old that lies within him. and one of his most favorite ways to corral you back into your place is by reinforcing the sheer difference in size between you both.

“zhongli, hah!” you shriek when he brings your hips back down, his thick girth forcing itself back into your tight hole. archons, you feel so overloaded, so full you feel you might burst at the seams. but there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when he’s holding you in his arms, your body suspended in the air with his arms hooked under your knees. you’re completely at your lover’s mercy. “s’big! it’s too much!”

and he’s resembling more of his divine form than the human like form you’re familiar with, and you swear he feels even thicker inside you this way. zhongli grunts when he slams you down onto him again, using gravity to his advantage as well as his otherworldly strength. you release a broken sob but you get no sympathy. “breaking so soon, dearest?”

your arms are tight around his neck. with each powerful thrust you feel as if you might be sent flying; but zhongli has you locked in his secure hold. he won’t let you fall, ever. you want to reply with something, to prove yourself, but how can you when his cock hits your womb in such a way that turns you brainless? a mess of syllables that slightly resemble “please” and “zhongli” tumble out of your mouth and into his neck as you bury your face.

zhongli chuckles into your ear and the sound of it only emphasizes the pleasure he’s obviously taking from the state of you. you’re so small in his hold, so easily malleable and pliable to his will, and he so eagerly takes advantage of it. “you will take it, all of it. everything i give you. it’s only fair, yes?” he lifts you until just his swollen tip remains within before thrusting upwards hard, filling you abruptly with his entirety. your whole body shakes. “your actions have consequences. you couldn’t possibly think you’d get off so easily.”

you’re a weeping mess at this point, and your pussy is no different. your battered cunt leaks all over his cock, on his thighs, and even onto the floor below. you can’t deny the effect he has on you when he takes you this way. he’s unyielding and formidable as stone. no one but you could ever know about this side of the illustrious mr. zhongli. you gasp when your back meets the wall. you look up at your lover through glassy, tear rimmed eyes.

zhongli is impossibly close, golden eyes piercing through you. he grinds his hips to make you feel every last incredible inch of him. “but i suppose this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

nat’s notes — just wanna take this time and say thank you so much for all the love on my last post! i’m pleasantly surprised how well my first fic did :’)) i hope everyone can enjoy this one, too!

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[aciddrattboyy]

found it hard to find someone like you

suna finds out you've never had an orgasm before and takes it very personally

suna x f! reader ☆ smut ☆ wc: 1.9k cw: cunnilingus, fingering (f!receiving), squirting [all characters are aged up!] a/n: this is an old fic i actually didnt even remember existed until i opened google drive and found it in my suna rintaro folder when i went to go write another fic, so i offer this one to you all now as i write what i planned

☆

“are you for real,” suna whipped his gaming chair around to face you. his eyes wide with a faint blush on his cheeks that had been there since the start of this conversation. 

“i mean yeah i guess, i’ve had sex before but i don’t think i’ve ever came y’know? and i’ve tried masturbating but it gets frustrating and i eventually just give up,” you laid on your stomach on suna’s bed, legs swinging back in forth in the air as you played a video game on your phone. 

both you and suna had absolutely no idea how the conversation led to sex but it didn’t seem out of the normal. you for one werent phased, casually humming as you jammed your thumbs against your phone screen. your humming only stopped when you felt suna’s eyes boring into you. 

“... what?” you looked up at him, one of your eyebrows raised slightly as your eyes flicked between your phone and him. suna’s mouth opened and closed multiple times but nothing came out. with a small laugh you sat up, pausing your game. “what is it?” 

“oh uh,” he shook his head, trying to will his now half hard dick to calm down before it became noticeable. “nothing- nothing i just think thats crazy…” he was absolutely floored and a bit upset that a person like you never got to have pleasurable sex. “so uh… do you just… fake it then when you know…” the minute the words left his mouth he regretted it, feeling mildly embarrassed at the fact that he was getting hard just from a conversation about sex that involved you.

you cock your head to the side as if you were really thinking about it, a light laugh leaving your mouth,

“yeah i guess so- i mean i don’t think i’ve ever outright lied and said i was having an orgasm i guess they just assumed i did. pretty funny isn’t it,” you were giggling as you picked up your phone to start your game again. 

“thats so fucked,” you snapped your head back up to look at him when you heard what sounded like pure anger and disbelief come out of suna’s mouth. his blush was a little darker now, eyebrows nearly touching as he tried to imagine how disappointing it must feel in the moment. you shrug your shoulders, laying on your back and turning your attention back to your game.

“nah it’s all good i don’t really expect anything when having sex so it doesn’t really bother me,” your voice was way too nonchalant for suna as he tried to understand how you could be so unbothered about that. 

“you deserve to feel good,”

“well i haven’t been able to find someone to make that happen yet,” you and suna lock eyes in that moment. time seemed to have stopped at that point. your eyes flit to his mouth as his tongue swiped over his bottom lip. suddenly the air seemed very hot with tension so thick  you could cut it with a knife. seconds went by and it felt like a thousand unspoken words were getting communicated between the two of you.

in the same moment you were sitting up on the bed, suna was rising from his chair. soon enough he was crawling onto the bed, knees knocking into yours as your back landed on the mattress as he pressed his lips against yours.                                                                                                                                                                      

your arms immediately wrapped around his neck. pulling him down on top of you. his lips moved messily against yours as he snaked a hand between your bodies. you shivered when you felt his hand slide under your shirt and up your torso. the small noise that left your lips was enough to egg suna on, moving his hand higher up until he was cupping yourtit, swiping his thumb over the now hardening bud.  

you were enjoying the way he was taking his time with you, keeping his lips against yours as his hand explored the skin under your shirt. you found yourself growing hot, wanting him to touch you more. so you roll your hips against suna, eliciting a small moan from him that was muffled by your kissing. 

“be patient pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips before traveling down to place wet kisses on your neck and explored collarbone. “ ‘m gonna make you feel good just be patient for me,” his voice was husky as he spoke against your neck, his other hand now traveling down to cup you through your pants. you shakily nodded your hand, a bit overwhelmed with how you good were already feeling just because of some small touching. 

you seem to stop breathing for a moment when you felt his hand travel back to push your shirt up until it bunched just above your boobs. in an instant, suna’s mouth was latched onto one, tongue swirling around the nipple as he used his hand to play with the other one. you were whining under him, breathing heavy as you squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to make any sort of friction.

suna continued his movements for a moment before letting his mouth off your boob with a small ‘pop’, a hazy smile present of his face as he looked up at you. just the sight alone had you clenching around nothing. he began to press kisses into your sternum, your ribs, your stomach, occasionally stopping to make sure a mark would stick to your skin. 

you sat up slightly, leaning back on your elbows when you felt suna’s mouth press one finally kiss onto the area of your stomach just above the waistline of your pants. he looked up at you with that same smile as he tugged on the material and pulled it down. you helped him, eagerly shrugging them off because you desperately wanted suna to be back between your legs. 

soon enough he was, licking and sucking at the skin of your inner thighs. his arms were under your thighs, hands wrapping around to hold your hips in place.

“rin-.” you whine when you felt him press a feather light kiss right above the edge of your underwear, a slight tremble coursing through your body when you felt him press a finger into the wet patch of your panties. he hummed in response, licking over the wet patch tentatively.

“that feel good?” he looked up you while he spoke, his fingers moving to grab the hem of your underwear and pulling them down. you nodded dumbly, your attention being almost completely on the feeling of his breath fanning over your now naked cunt. “you have to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t okay? ‘m gonna make you cum tonight baby,” you nodded again, hips twitching like your cunt was begging for him to eat you out.

“okay okay- just please- oh shit,” suna was quick to swipe his tongue along your slit, fanning his hand out on your lower stomach and using this thumb to lift the hood before just barely grazing over your throbbing clit. your hips jerked at the sudden jolt of pleasure, a small gasp leaving your lips. suna continued to kiss at your clit as he glided his middle finger against your slit. your thighs twitched, threatening to snap close any moment but suna didn’t seem to mind. his eyes flicked back up to you as he slowly pushed his finger inside, dick twitching immediately when he felt you clench around his fingers and thought how it would feel to have you clenching around his cock instead. his pace was slow, tenderly fucking his middle finger into you as you continued to let out a string of soft whines.

 “use your words y/n tell me how you feel,” his mouth hovered just above your cunt and you could see a sheen of your juices over his lips. your face grew warm as he waited for you to tell him. 

“ ‘s good- feels good,” you said quickly. you could hear suna laugh and before you could snap at him you were whining instead as he lowered his mouth on you once more. 

he wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves, causing you to jerk your hips up onto his mouth. he slipped his finger out before immediately adding another one in. his middle and ring finger curled inside of you as he pumped them in and out. you threw your head back as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, an embarrassing whine coming from lips as he continued to press into it. 

“th-that feels good- right there- ah-,”  you hand reaches out to grab onto suna’s hair, forcing him to keep his mouth on your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. sun’a half closed eyes widened at the unexpected tug on his hair. looking up at you he almost came in his shorts at the sight. you looked completely fucked out, eyes screwed closed as tears being to cling onto your lashes and mouth opened slightly as soft moans left your lips. 

he flattened his tongue, letting you grind your clit against it while he continued to fuck his fingers into you at a brutal pace. he let his eyes close, all his attention on the sounds of pleasure you were making just because of him. 

when he felt you clench around his fingers he pushed both fingers deep into your hole as he began to curl and uncurl his inside you at an insane pace that you curling for into him, 

“w-wait rin- ah- i have to- have to pee-,” you squealed, squirming against suna’s mouth as you tried to warn him. but he kept going. switching his tongue with his hand. he rubbed at your clit eagerly as he plunged his tongue inside of you.

suna let out a long groan against your cunt when he felt you squirt against his mouth. your juices immediately splashed his lower face as he took his tongue out of you before letting it hang out of his mouth, watching your hole clench around nothing. 

“ thats it baby,” he rasped, leaning forward to press his now cum glazed lips onto yours. his mouth caught your loud moans as he continued to abuse your clit, circling it with his fingers as your lower body convulsed against him. 

“rintaro- i-it hurts-,” you lower your hand between your bodies to push his hand away. if suna was mean he would keep going and fuck you dumb until you cant take anymore. but he was nice and considering it being your first one, he wanted to treat you. so he changed his pace, swallowing your whines with his tongue as you twitched against his slowing fingers. 

taking his fingers out of you, he moved over your body, pressing his lips into you and swallowing your some moans that were just sending blood straight to his dick. you watched as suna brought his fingers up to his mouth, keeping his eyes on you as he licked them clean before pressing his lips back onto yours. you whined, tasting yourself on your tongue while you explored his mouth. when he pulled away once more you were met with a shit eating grin. 

“so i’m guessing it felt good,” he cocked his head to the side as he spoke and you were just about ready to push him away before you noticed that the sheets below you were wet. 

“fuck off,” you tried to pretend to be angry as you playfully shoved his shoulder. he held a hand up in surrender, batting his eyelashes as he tried to appear innocent.

“i’ll take it as a yes.”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[shigarosie]

"Move the phone Tsuki," you whimper. "Can't see you face."

"Sorry," he mutters, moving the phone slightly off to the side but still pointed at you. "Trying to keep you in frame."

"This is so embarrassing," you whine, shoving your hands up over your face.

"Shut up," he says. There's no real malice behind it, just subtle annoyance. "And move your hands. You look hot."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Why d'you think I wanted to film you, huh?"

Another whimper slips past your lips and you try to forget the camera pointed at your face, zoning in on Tsukishima's cock stroking in and out of you. It's casual, practiced, second nature at this point. He's not fucking you hard, that would make the video shaky. But it was good. Comfortable. He knew you, inside and out. You've spent every single night together for the past year and a half that you've lived together, but soon the streak would be broken as Tsuki would be traveling overseas for an archeology conference. Hence his request for a video- a request you suspect he'd been searching for an excuse to make for some time.

"Fucking pretty," he mumbles, his gaze flickering back and forth from screen to face. "Gonna miss making you make those faces while I'm gone."

"How am I gonna cum when you're gone?" You ask sincerely, a pout forming at the mere thought. "My fingers aren't the same as yours. My toys don't feel like you."

"Fuck," he whispers, taking a moment to adjust his hips before he starts fucking you at a different angle. It makes you squeal a bit, reaching out and grasping for his forearm as it grips one of your thighs. "You can't cum without me? Huh? You need my cock?"

"Yeah," you gasp, forgetting all about the camera pointed at you. He's been teasing you this whole time, avoiding the spot inside you that really gets you to the edge. "Need it so bad. Think about it all the time- fuck, Tsuki, just like that!"

"Gonna cum? Make it pretty for me baby, you know I'm gonna watch this over and over when I'm gone."

Tsuki keeps up the pace you like, giving you what you want to see satisfaction across your features. His pelvis grinds against you with every thrust, pressing against your clit and coating himself in your slick.

You don't have to try very hard to give him what he likes; a gasp and a whine as you look him in the eyes while you cum. He moves his phone so the camera's just under his eyes, so that when he watches it back later it still feels like you're making eye contact with him.

"Fuck, Keiiii," you squeal, riding out the pleasure as it pulses through you. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing and relaxing with the throbbing of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Tsuki breathes. "Fuck, feels so good- god, she's creaming."

A couple more thrusts and a couple more grunts and he's soon following suit, cumming inside of you.

"Look how pretty she is with my cum leaking out." He moves his phone down to get a close up as he sloooowly pulls out. When you whimper at the loss he sticks two fingers inside, massaging your walls and letting the milky white cream trickle down his hand. He ends the video after withdrawing those two fingers and pushing them past your lips for you to clean up, sweetness in your eyes as the stare directly into the camera.

"That was fucking hot," he sighs. "Won't be as good as the real thing, but at least I'll have the next best."

You lean up and kiss him, nibbling at his bottom lip.

"I'm gonna miss you, too," you pout. You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing your phone off the charger. "Now," you say, rolling him over onto his back and climbing on top, "it's my turn to get something to remember you by."

[hyper-fixates]

and what if i said logan could get off from biting and marking you up ☹️ then what ☹️

just a silly little one-shot. this can be read for any logan/era :)

tags: afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered language), biting/marking, clothed male/naked reader, explicit language, sloppy kisses!!! scent kink, dry humping, groping/touching (let me know if anything was missed!).

Logan loves to smother you.

His earnestness and desire to swallow you whole doesn’t get more apparent besides when he’s on top of you, grinding against your bare cunt despite his cock straining against his jeans. And he’ll leave it that way, at least for tonight.

He sucks harmless kisses against your neck and jaw as if your skin will disappear any second, afraid to lose the sex-filled scent that’s keeping him glued on top you. You squirm relentlessly from the sensitivity and intensity of it all, but it just makes him more determined to overwhelm you and feel how much wetter you’re getting against him.

He licks over the taught tendons in your neck before biting an angry mark into the supple skin adjacent, making you claw harder at his shoulders (the grey wife-pleaser already making it easy).

Each lick, kiss, and mark earns you a swift thrust against your exposed pussy, the rough denim brushing against your sore clit that’s already been teased and tortured by his experienced fingers. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last.

His scruff pricks the sensitive skin over your neck and shoulders as he ventures along your body eagerly, hands kneading your hips in sharp, desperate squeezes to anchor himself and rut his cock harder over you.

He’ll offer the deepest kisses to your lips when he hears you getting louder, timing his thrusts to rock against you when he reclaims your lips each time, making sure your pleading sounds are silenced.

The soft scrape of teeth against your bottom lip has your pussy clenching around nothing as he tugs just far enough away to open your mouth and seamlessly slip his tongue down over yours, locking your lips back together in a kiss that makes you both dizzy. A soft groan catches in his throat.

He moves back down your jaw, nuzzling the curve while placing wet kisses over your pulse, enjoying how fast it’s gotten from a couple bites and slick kisses.

“I could get off just by doing this,” he sighs, slotting your lips together again in a messy, tongue-filled kiss. “You smell and taste too fucking good to stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Every fucking time.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reason, sliding your hands up into his hair. The perfect cat-like points breaking apart as you gently pull at the roots.

He drops his head back to your shoulder, consumed by bliss, sinking his teeth into the skin right between your neck and collarbone. A tremor works its way through you as you feel a new wave of heat roll through your cunt while he sucks deeper and deeper at the spot with a groan.

“God, Logan, please don’t break the skin,” you pant as your thighs clench around his hips, pulling him closer. “It will take at least two weeks to heal.”

You feel him chuckle against you before he pulls off with a lewd sound, panting just as heavy as you. Your neck, shoulders, and chest are raw with hickeys and teeth marks; the skin tender to the touch and red-hot when he finally pulls away for more than a few seconds.

“I remember it being ten days,” he smirks, offering a final gentle kiss to your puffy lips, accepting the white flag you’re waving.

You’ve been marked. Claimed.

You give your eyes a roll. “Satisfied?” you hold back a smile.

He pushes his hips up into yours again, cock still very much hard and now newly soaked through his jeans from your arousal. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that one, sweetheart,” he says with a small, breathy laugh.

A hand releases it’s death-grip on your right thigh, trailing up your chest to lock itself tight under your jaw, holding you there for him as he consumes you with rough kisses that have your core aching. All tongue and teeth and he just keeps you there. All for him to devour.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that he’ll never be able to domesticate.

[sailortongue]

Good Luck Charms

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: Kenji has misplaced his earrings and refuses to leave without a pair. so you loan him a pair of yours

an: I wrote two blurbs involving his piercings bc I couldn't decide which one I liked more. one where he wears yours (this one) and one where you wear his (here!)

-------

“Hey, baby, have you seen my earrings? I can’t find them,” Kenji called out from the bedroom.

“Have you checked your nightstand?” You asked as you walked into the bedroom to see him looking around frantically for his lost jewelry.

“Twice. I’ve looked all over but I can't remember where I put them. Only that when I put them down I told myself I'd definitely be able to find them there.”

You chuckled, knowing the feeling all too well. “Why don’t you just go without them? I doubt anyone will be looking that closely”

He looked scandalized at the mere suggestion. “I can’t go without them because I’m hotter with my earrings.”

“Kenji, you'd still be hot in a burlap sack. And who exactly do you need to look hot for, hmm?”

He smiled slyly “For you obviously. Can’t let people think my girlfriend has bad taste.” He shot a conspiratorial wink at you.

“Would you like to borrow a pair of mine?” You offered.

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. You walked over to your jewelry box and he sidled up next to you, browsing through your collection. He picked up a pair of chunky hoops—a far cry from his usual studs—and held them up to his ears. “These are definitely the ones,” he joked, mirthful laughter bubbling from his plump lips.

“Oh, for sure,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words but your giggles from his antics still seeping through.

He set them back down and watched as you dug for a more suitable pair. “What about these?” He asked, pointing to a much more modest pair this time. They were a favorite of yours, ones you wore often. “It'll be like having you there with me,” he said, a soft smile settling on his face.

You melted at his sappy words. How could you possibly tell him no? You gave him permission to wear them, and he excitedly ran to the bathroom to put them in. When he came back out, the small jade studs were secured in his earlobes, the wide grin on his face displaying how pleased he was with his choice.

He walked up to you and leaned down for a kiss. “Thank you,” he said sweetly.

“Consider them good luck charms,” you said. “Now get going before you’re late.”

He swooped in for one more kiss before rushing out of the bedroom to make it to his interview on time.

-❀-

“So, Ken, a lot of your fans, especially the women, seem to be very fond of your jewelry, but they can’t help but notice you don’t wear a ring. Is there any special lady in your life? I'm sure they’d love to know,” the interviewer teased.

Kenji chuckled, knowing that you were without a doubt watching this interview live from the comfort of the living room. “There is,” he replied. He brought his hands up to finger at the delicate jewelry in his ears. “These belong to her actually. She has wonderful taste. I mean, she must if she’s dating me, right?”

-❀-

You heard the crowd laugh at his response, a grin of your own spreading across your face. The show went on a commercial break shortly after, and you decided to get ready for bed while waiting for Kenji’s gorgeous face to once again grace your screen. You entered the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, opening the medicine cabinet to grab your dental floss—but something else caught your eye. Lo and behold, there, on the bottom shelf, were Kenji’s missing earrings.

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW ALPHABET [ könig ]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s a literally teddy bear, he’s so caring when he gets past the anxiety. Whether it’s your first time as a couple or ten years in- he’s giving you cuddles, he’s grabbing snacks and drinks for you.

Whatever you ask, you will be given by König after sex and in general.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

König hates himself- it’s a well known fact. He doesn’t like an inch of himself… until he met you. Compliment this man to get his self worth up. He guesses his hands, he soon finds out he’s quite talented with them.

On you, he can’t narrow it down. You are an angel in human form to this man. It’s not a body part, but your voice. He could hear you talk about anything and you’d have his full attention.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He adores the closeness to you. He doesn’t feel completely spent until he’s cum inside of you. And there’s ALOT of it from years of pent up frustration.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The military is the only thing that kept him alive for so long, he wants to fuck you in his full gear- minus the weapons. It’s like both worlds colliding.

Bonus points if he does it in a KorTech office. No he is not ashamed by it- he is a freak in the bedroom.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very little experience, you’re probably the second or most probably the first person he’s been intimate with.

This guy avoids humans, you just happen to be a kind and tolerable one.

You probably teach him a fair few tricks, but with the equipment he’s packing… it doesn’t take many tweaks to have mind blowing sex. Good with his hands, remember.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

SPOONING: He’s such an intimate guy, loves holding as much of you as he can and feeling your body. He’s touched starved. He can get a good angle without hurting you with his well endowments.

CLOSE-UP: He loves the comfort of sitting with you eye level watching you come undone. He can hold you the closest you’ve ever been. It’s also friendly to his predicament downstairs, you have full control over what happens because you’re on top. He doesn’t mind being a bottom once in a while.

SEATED STRADDLE: Loves it after you’ve just eaten dinner and you straddle his lap. One thing leads to another and you’re eye level with him- his feet on the ground at either side of the chair so when he feels dominant he can plough up into you. Another safe position to prevent soreness for your sake.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Doesn’t really mess around- because of his anxiety, he wants you to have earth shattering sex. He has an odd joke here and there but in general he’s really quiet because he’s so focused on how well you pulse around him and making you feel good.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Snail trail of like dark/dirty blonde hair- maybe a little darker than his head of hair. He’s relatively well groomed, again from being self conscious.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s so devoted- a teddy bear in a grizzly’s form. Kisses you all the down and goes down on you for hours. Lips never really leaving you.

Been known to put rose petals on the bed before throwing you on the bed and his head between your thighs in a few seconds.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

So depressed he never felt the need to, maybe antidepressants used to inhibit his sex drive.

Doesn’t even do it when you’re together- he can’t get off unless he’s buried inches deep in you. Even blowjobs, no matter how amazing you are, he needs your pussy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

AURALISM : He can’t enough of hearing you moaning on top of him, under him… anywhere. And the noises of how wet you are, he’s getting off on that.

ROLEPLAY: He lives two lives and likes that you embrace that in asking him to fuck you in his gear… his dirty secret is ticked off the bucketlist. He looks good in any emergency service costume.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As long as it’s you and him; he’ll fuck you anywhere in your home. If you met him still living at your parents’, he gets off fucking you against the wall to limit the noise. Your parents thought it was squirrels or raccoons (wherever you live)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your sweet moans being dragged out while he taints your skin with lovebites. Also gets off to you in controls because he could easily top you but you just have to prove you can top the 6’10” military man.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Insulting you in any way- degradation isn’t his thing, he’d gut anybody who dares insult you.

Public sex, just isn’t for this timid guy.

Hurting you in anyway, even when he brushes against your cervix every time you’re fucking, he’s apologising profusely.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Could eat pussy all day, the taste, the sound your folds make when they’re so wet from arousal and your honeyed sounds. He does it so much he is the master of oral.

Prefers being in your pussy compared to blowjobs. He enjoys you, he just can’t get off no matter how skilled you are.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tries to be slow and sensual to get you used to the stretch around him, but when he’s drunk on you… expect a rabid animal. He’s like a fucking jackhammer, just as long as you can take it. If you prefer slow and sensual he’ll do that but if you’re up for some ploughing, expect not to be able to walk for half an hour afterwards.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

This man doesn’t know the definition of quickie… he’s all about worshipping you and his cock size makes it difficult. He needs to get you nice and wet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nothing in public. But he isn’t adversed to fucking you in his office on his desk or you riding up on his chair. Though, he’s never leaving that door unlocked.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Can go three rounds one after the other, like of extensive sex. He’s been in the military for 15-20 years, he’s able to pleasure his partner.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He believes in trying anything once but doesn’t reuse the sex toys after experimenting. And you don’t have a need when he’s around.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Is known to tease, but caves in too easily when you do your little pouty face or start touching things you shouldn’t. You tease him more than the other way round.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He chants German terms of endearment to you and grunts. If you’re taking him so well, he’s moaning as loud as you (you’re screaming for the most part as he starts moving) and it’s such a turn on. It’s like warm wind against your face.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sometimes will handcuff you on the bed frame and do unspeakable deeds to you to wake you up (consent given beforehand- he’s uncuff you in a heartbeat if you wished it). He’s feasting between the apex of your thighs, fingering you until you’re messing the sheets and then hammering into you with your legs over your head.

You call that beast mode.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s pretty obvious, he’s jacked and his v-line encases a nine inch long, girth monster.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He hasn’t been on antidepressants since being with you. He’s not lonely anymore, so his sex drive is wild. Everyday if you can take it and he isn’t hurting you.

Scale of 0-10, a solid 10.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends how many rounds have taken place, but makes sure you have everything you need before he considers sleeping. And when he does, it’s only with your fingers stroking down his body and stroking his hair.

————

masterlist

[stevieschrodinger]

Part one

Steve’s alone with fish guy, and it’s the perfect time to make his second attempt. For the first time Steve figures the guy must finally be relaxing, if only a tiny bit. The frozen peas were a massive hit, and maybe that’s helping. Being hungry like that must be really shitty, especially if it’s for a long time, like Steve suspects from the look of fish guy.

Maybe fish guy is starting to realize that this isn’t the labs under Starcourt any more. That Steve and his friends aren’t here to hurt fish guy.

Steve flicks another pea off into the water as he drinks his coffee; fish guy retrieves it in a flash, his eel like black tail easy to spot in the water, quickly coming back for more.

The kids keep calling him a merman - but he doesn't look like any cartoon or kids picture Steve's ever seen. His tail is too flat, for one, definitely more like an eel, plus there's no fins that Steve can see.

Steve offers him a handful of peas, carefully cupping them until fish guy has his hands cupped underneath, ready for them to be tipped in. They don’t touch, and Steve vaguely wonders if the guy will feel cold from the water. The skin of his fingers isn’t pruned like a regular persons would be, which makes sense since he’s a fish guy. Maybe he’ll feel clammy, or rubbery. Or scaly. Steve van very vaguely remember petting a stingray in a low tank at the aquarium once, surrounded by other kids. Might have been a field trip or something, but he can remember how surprised he was by the feeling of the mottled brown skin. Super rough, like sandpaper. Fish guy doesn’t look like he’ll feel like that either, though.

Fish guy eats his handful of peas and then looks back to Steve expectantly; or at least, that’s what he’d call it on a human person. It must be the same sort of thing though, right? The top half, at least, is built the same, right?

Steve’s down to his last handful of frozen peas; he’s already called Robin, she’s going to pick up a bunch of groceries of the green variety on her way over after her shift later. Also a few other bits, like carrots and bell peppers, to see if fish guy will try them.

Steve holds up a single pea between his thumb and pointer finger. Fish guy’s eyes track it from where he floats, a foot away from the ledge. Steve taps his chest, “Steve,” and then he points to fish guy.

Like last night, he comes a little closer, lifting out of the waster a little and then, cautiously points at Steve, he makes a noise that...kind of...sounds like ‘Steve’. His voice is raspy, and the word is kind of mangled, more of a sad ‘Steee,’ but near enough. It looks like he’s really trying, brow furrowed with concentration.

It’s not what Steve wanted, but Steve gives him the pea.

It’s overcast today, same as yesterday, and the day before. Blowy and cold. Steve doesn’t want to stay out here much longer, so he dumps the remaining peas into the water and then gets up and heads inside to wait for Robin.

Steve’s nearly at the door when he hears a splash and then a mournful, “Steeeeeeeeee.” and immediately regrets all of his life choices.

He sighs, and goes back to the pool, “yeah?”

Fish guy tilts his head, frowning, and then lifts his had out of the water, pointer finger and thumb a smidge apart...just like he’s holding an imaginary pea.

Well. Communication is definitely something they will be able to work on then. But Steve flaps the bag, showing the picture of the peas on the front, and the face that it’s very clearly empty, “all gone. Finished,” Steve makes a cutting motion in the air with the side of his hand, to indicate they’re done.

“Inied,” the fish guy manages cautiously.

“Yeah, finished.”

The fish guy watches him for a second, and then dips back down under the water, off too huddle in the bottom corner of the pool.

Steve wonders vaguely if he’s still hungry, but hopefully it won’t be that much longer before Robin gets here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who really, genuinely likes celery.”

“Me neither, it’s like peppery water.”

“With hair in.”

Fish guy though, very clearly, likes the celery. He didn’t quibble over the cucumber either, that disappeared very quickly. He was cautious about the carrots, but with a little encouragement, and a lot of sniffing, he ate the bottom half of one, not seeming to like it so much at the thicker end.

Steve hands him an entire bell pepper, watches as fish guy takes a bite. He seems to like it, but then pulls a face, scraping desperately at the seeds on his tongue and spitting the whole mess out into the water. Steve can’t help laughing. Fish guy looks affronted. The look of genuine distaste and irritation on his face is very human and also hilariously funny.

“Oh Steve, I think you offended him,” Steve wipes the tears away to see that Robin is right, and fish guy has gone to huddle in the far corner of the pool, only his eyes peeking out. That’s got to suck, having no where to go. No where to hide; no privacy at all.

“This has got to suck for him; he’s stuck in an empty box,” Steve tries to imagine living his entire existence in a completely empty room; he can’t, not really.

“Well what can we even do with him? He seems to be freshwater, so the oceans are out. Even if we let him go in a lake, we don’t know what he understands about people, if he got caught…” she trails off. Steve doesn’t need any help imagining what could happen.

“I don’t know but...we need a plan...and he needs something to do.”

“What like, enrichment for his enclosure?”

It’s the first sunny day for a while. Steve had been getting resentful about it but a bit of warm sunshine is starting to make up for it already.

Steve looks uncertainly down at the bucket of dollar store toys he’s paid for. Doesn’t matter that the kids picked them all out, apparently Steve is still the money in this operation.

Plus gas; they had to travel further since the mall is now a fenced off ruin.

All the kids are on their knees at one end of the pool; all of them holding something. There’s a slinky (he can play with it along the edge), a Rubik’s cube (water proof, and we might be able to figure out if he can see color), a bucket, a plastic dog bowl (it’ll float, you can fill it with peas), a rubber duck, and a ball.

Fish guy, on the other hand, had retreated to the furthest corner he could, curled up into a ball, and stayed there.

Steve’s starting to suspect that the noise of the kids constant chatter and bickering is actually a bit too much for fish guy to handle, from the way he either hides or watches them wearily from the other end of the pool. If they move, he moves.

“Maybe if we spread out, then one of use will be close enough because he won’t have anywhere to go-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve tells Dustin, “that’s cruel, if he’s hiding it’s for a reason. Just let the stuff be and he will deal with it when he’s ready.”

He gets a little bit of whining from them, mostly Will and Dustin, if he’s honest, all the other kids seem to be really understanding.

The ball and the bucket they let go to float around in the water, and the kids soon loose interest and head off to cause trouble elsewhere.

Steve desperately wants to dip his feet in the pool, same as he would on any other day, but since there’s someone living in it, it feels kind of rude. Like he’d be knowingly walking mud into someone's house, or something.

Steve kneels at the same end of the pool the kids were at, he doesn’t want to startle fish guy by appearing right above him. If he comes to Steve or not should be his choice, but Steve has two bunches of celery and a dog food bowl filled to the brim with frozen peas, so he thinks his chances are pretty good right now.

He’s right, fish guy does come over, but his whole face is scrunched up and he misses the celery on the first try; it takes Steve an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure it out, even with the guy eating with his eyes pretty much closed.

It’s the first fully sunny day they’ve had, and the guy had been in a shitty artificially lit lab, and before that, presumably the Upside Down for his whole life.

It’s fucking bright out here.

And even as he takes his sunglasses off, Steve has no idea how to communicate this with fish guy.

Steve has the bowl of peas for leverage, but still. He shows them to fish guy, who, squinting, does come closer. And then Steve hands over the glasses. Fish guy, face all scrunched up, tilts his head, looking at them.

Steve takes them back, put them on, takes the off, and offers them again. Ever so carefully and slowly, fish guy takes the glasses. Steve knows fish guy is at least kind of smart; he’s confident he will figure this out. He’s proved correct pretty fast when fish guy holds them up so he can blink up through the lenses.

And then he...very carefully, almost comically carefully, slides them on.

He grins up at Steve, and Steve floats the dog bowl in the water, giving it a nudge.

Fish guy looks delighted.

Part Three

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (I)

This is probably my longest running dysfunctional daydream scenario, so I thought I'd share it here.

As stereotypical as it gets, you've fallen into an old well and found yourself in feudal Japan. Almost immediately, you're attacked by a yokai that calls you by a name you don't recognize. He insists you possess the soul of an ancient priest that would capture demons under a binding contract. Something isn't right, however, so your life is spared until further clues come to light. With two men unwillingly bound to you, you begin to uncover this mess as more 'collection pieces' show up. They might prefer you to their previous owner.

TW: violence, monsters

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guidebook]

You vigorously cough out whatever grass you seemed to have bit into when you hit the ground. Was all this vegetation here just one moment ago? As you get up and dust your knees you're brought back into focus by the loud buzzing of insects. You look above and involuntarily squint your eyes. You didn't expect to see a full, bright sky.

"What the hell?" is all you can mutter.

You and your university friends had planned a quick trip to the neighboring Tokyo, just to visit some trending local cafes and shop around. You somehow wandered into the suburbs and found a very obvious path to a large shrine that was visible from the bottom of the stairs. Now, what's more stereotypical than finding a shrine, approaching it with shy steps, dangling the old rope of the bell and humbly clapping your hands together for a quick prayer that gives you a fake sense of meaningfulness? Then again, you love a good cliché. So you did just that, and then whipped out your phone to snap some artsy photos of the place. In your search for the perfect angle, you spotted a wooden structure among some pillars and zoomed in to realize it's an old well.

Here's where you awkwardly tiptoed away from your friends. You couldn't possibly confess to them that you're one of those anime nerds, and that you immediately thought of a certain classic title, and that this could make a very good impromptu cosplay shoot. You could smell the nostalgia as you carefully swayed your way behind the pillars and under the shade of the tiled roof. You bent over carefully (apparently not carefully enough) to asses how deep the well was. Just as you were about to exclaim its shallowness, you felt the gravity pull you inwards. Within seconds your head made contact with the moist soil and you briefly blacked out as the rest of your body arrived in proper position.

Unpleasant, but you've had migraines worse than this. Though now you're wondering whether you might've damaged some important brain parts, given the sudden change of scenery. Or has your dysfunctional daydreaming finally caught up to you?

You laugh silently and test the walls around you, feeling for some contact point that you can use to pull yourself back out. You finally crawl out, but freeze with your elbows around the frame of the well, looking ahead.

There's no building around, just tall grass and what seems to be the beginning of a forest. You remember to blink, and each time you close your eyes you hope to see the shrine once again, to no avail.

"I thought I'm past the risk age for schizophrenia", you mumble in a humorous attempt. The situation is so absurd that you need to share it with an imaginary audience.

You muster up the courage to step out and onto the ground, with extra caution as if it could vanish at any moment. After brief consideration, you slap a bunch of weeds in front of you to test their consistency. The hard stems hurt your wrist and you nod. This is a little too intense to be just a hallucination.

Alright, so you got trapped in some sort of feudal anime remake. What now? You glance around, almost hoping to see some white haired man sleeping against a tree with an arrow stuck into the chest. You check your phone. No signal, but thankfully it still works. You have a battery and its charger, but the latter is probably useless. Unless this remake comes with electricity. You chuckle at the thought. Who knows, maybe it's one of those isekai otome games instead and some timeline inconsistency or loophole will provide you with an outlet.

After trying the well one last time without success, you decide to at least find another human being. Then you can get some grasp of your whereabouts and situation. You notice a patch of grass that's been bent to the ground, probably from frequent stomping. That's a start. You follow the hints of bipedal movement and hope for the best.

The improvised path slithers downhill and around the mass of trees, and you question whether the fields ahead might have traces of houses on them. You pick up your pace in anticipation.

A sharp swish of an unknown object causes you to flinch and halt, and before you can process it, a thin blade lays inches from your nose. You follow its length and find the source: a tall, horned (???) man with silver hair.

Ironically enough, he seems to be more shocked than you. His facial expression flips from focused anger to unbelievable confusion within seconds. His eyebrows are raised and his lips part.

"Ah!" you yell as the gears begin to turn. "Christ, you almost made me question my sanity!

Now let me tell you, this is some great cosplay. I was about to beg for my life. Hah! How the hell did you pull the whole transition? Is the well a tunnel? I hope I didn't accidentally break into some event."

The man returns his sword into its sheath, still in deep disbelief.

"You're not him, are you? But then again..."

"Huh? Him? I'm sorry, were you expecting someone? If you show me the way out I'll disappear in a moment." you turn around, prepared to be led to the exit. "Who're you cosplaying, anyways? I'm a big fan of historical dramas, but I don't recognize the character design."

"I don't understand what you're saying." the man tilts his head in utter surprise.

"Alright, I get the point" you force a laugh, slightly irritated by the persistence. "You're deep in your acting, I get that. Focus and all the jazz. But my friends are around the corner and I don't have signal, can you please skip the theatre and show me the exit?"

"The exit to...where? You're outside."

You sigh, loudly, and click your tongue. "Enough of this, please. Where's the shrine?"

"Ah, I get it. You're trying to confuse me." he pulls his sword back out. "I've had enough of your tricks. You're in an early stage, aren't you? Not strong enough to fight back. I can sense it."

Oh God, it's one of those maniacs, you think to yourself. You raise your arms as a peace offering and hope you won't be featured in the 5pm news with multiple stab wounds.

"Listen man, I really don't know what you're talking about. I'll leave quietly and won't bother you again, I promise."

You gulp and await a response, but the man's mouth opens and the words are replaced by a foreign, disembodied shriek. There's a rapidly approaching heavy shuffle that sounds like the trample of many limbs. You feel your leg being hooked into something and the ground turns around at a dizzying speed.

Something just grabbed you.

Given the movements of the lips, you're assuming that the mysterious cosplaying maniac is yelling something, but your ears are ringing and throbbing as the adrenalin begins to pump. You're being thrown around by something and you can feel the skin holding your leg together creaking and tearing with every jolt.

You manage to land your eyes on the creature. The teeth are unnaturally sharp and it seems to have many arms and legs arranged in a scattered order along the scaly body. It trashes around in such a fluid, dynamic way, that you doubt it could be the result of any machine. It's a living thing and currently attacking you for whatever reason.

Once the bizarre reality settles in, panic floods your body and you scream for help. If not the maniac, then some godly intervention. You did offer a small donation at the shrine, it has to count for something.

The spectacle doesn't last long, since the silver haired man doesn't hesitate to behead the creature. You can see that he wasn't making empty threats with his sword skills. You'd prefer, however, if you weren't the next one to go under his guillotine. Your body rolls over the dirt, limp from the shock.

You tilt yourself upwards pathetically and let out a groan once you attempt to use your leg to stand. You turn around and notice the aftermath of your little air ballet. There's a deep wound and thick, red blood is oozing out, scrambling to form a protective crust.

"You... really can't fight at all, can you? You weren't lying."

The man is now standing in front of you, the same amount of disbelief he had at the beginning.

"How the hell would I have fought that...that..." you choke and can feel tears forming in your eyes. "I don't understand what's happening. I just want to go back home. I don't know what's happening." you start sobbing and angrily rub your eyes, hoping to trigger some sort of way to wake up. But your eyelids burn and you feel awake. This was never a dream.

Your sudden meltdown startles the man and he awkwardly hovers his hands over you, unsure of how to handle this.

"Sorry, if I had known, I would've stopped it earlier. I genuinely thought you're..." he sighs. "I'm really sorry. You got hurt because of me."

"Can you please tell me where I am? I feel like I'm going crazy. It's year 202X and I was out with my friends and fell into a well. I've never seen a creature like that in my life. I somehow ended up here and I can't go back. Where the hell is this?"

"I... I don't understand what's happening either. I came here because I sensed he's back. I didn't expect to see... well... you." 

You scan his face. His frown is sincere. Which, truth be told, is even less helpful. You're back to square 0, it's getting dark and your ankle is trashed. 

You just want to sleep.

You stare at the ceiling, hands locked together over your chest. The improvised hay mattress isn't exactly comfortable, but it's certainly better than nothing. You sheepishly glance at the horned man. He's sitting by the window, idly looking outside with hooded eyes. He seems to be tired, too. 

"Try to get some rest", he'd told you earlier. Easier said than done. After the monster attack, he carried you on his back until you found an abandoned hut. His way of apologizing for letting you get mauled. As you walked, he narrated his reasoning to you. 

His name is Kiritsubo. When he was a child, a human dressed like an onmyouji took him in for training. Said to be the successor of Abe no Seimei himself, the man was feared throughout the country for his supernatural powers. Most of his strength, however, came from the collection of yokai he'd gathered to work for him. None of them had agreed to it, but no one knew how to break the bond subduing them. Eventually, the old man succumbed into his eternal slumber, yet the yokai were still not freed from the contract.

Some of them suggested he wasn't truly gone. Merely reincarnated. And today, he felt it for the first time. That's how he stumbled upon you. You appear to have part of his soul within you, whether you realize it or not. But if you truly have no knowledge of it, he doesn't have the heart to slaughter an innocent. 

"What about the rest?" you blurt out, quietly.

Kiritsubo turns to you, mildly startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You said the man owned 12 legendary yokai. Are you the only one left?"

"No." He frowns. "They most likely know about you already. Let's try to send you back to your world tomorrow, because they will not be as forgiving."

A shiver runs across your spine. This one is scary enough already. You pray you'll be home before you can meet any other beast.

"This is where I found you, so the well shouldn't be far." 

The silver haired man surveys the horizon and you limp forward. 

"I'll check the area, since you can't walk much."

As soon as he says that, he vanishes. You're left with the heavy buzz of afternoon cicadas. You might as well do your own search. Keep yourself preoccupied. The idea of leaving this behind fills you with excitement and you find enough strength to push ahead. 

A few minutes later, you hear a shuffle behind you. Could it be that Kiritsubo already found the well? Enthusiasm fills your chest and a burning heat spreads out. Although it speedily pools in your left shoulder, and you notice in horror that it wasn't enthusiasm taking over your body. A blade is sticking out of your shoulder, avoiding anything vital as some sort of mockery rather than omission. 

"Found you."

The voice is deep and foreign. You barely manage to tilt your head and meet the glowing red eyes of a black haired man. Dark horns are twisting menacingly from his crown and his expression is that of pure wrath. As fresh blood drips down your chin, you wonder if this is the next yokai in line to seek his revenge.

How will you get out of this?

[sexlapis]

ᝰ.ᐟ i know how much it matters to you.

── .✦ nanami kento x reader

sfw, drabbles, gender neutral!reader, daddy-esque nanami, soft nanami, petnames

⤷ it’s the little things nanami does for you that makes your heart melt…

a/n: if you have a dad just scroll (joke).

masterlist

*

BUTTONS

“Thank you for having us, Mrs Nanami.”

You and Nanami make your way to the door, preparing to leave.

Nanami’s mother had invited you both to a Sunday roast, diligently cooking everything for all three of you. You thanked her highly for her efforts, so much so that she had to force you to sit down and eat.

“Oh! It’s no bother, dear!” She smiles at you warmly, walking you and Nanami to the door. “I love to have my favourite people over.”

Nanami takes your coat of its rack, holding it open for you. “Here.”

“Oh!” You put your arms through the sleeves, feeling your face heat up. Nanami adjusts the coat over your shoulders. “Thanks.”

He then proceeds to crouch down a little and button up your coat, bottom to top. When finished, he smooths out the collar of your coat, tidying up the unruly folds and creases.

Your heart jumps, almost embarrassed by his nurturing actions. “Kento…”

“Hm?”

Mrs Nanami coos. “I knew I raised a gentleman.”

-

HAIR

“How does that feel?”

“Hmmm…it feels good…”

You sit in the bath, legs splayed out as Nanami sits on a stool beside the bathtub, massaging the foamy shampoo into your scalp and effectively cleaning your hair.

He chuckles at the blissed out expression on your face.

“What’re you laughing at?” You ask drowsily, eyes half-lidded from his soothing movements.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Nanami’s eyes twinkle as he smiles down at you, irises of umber and gold illuminated by the setting sun curling in from the bathroom window.

“Alright, tilt your head back for me.”

You do so, and he picks up a plastic tub of a now empty food container, scoops up some water from the bath and pours it over your head, washing away all off the foam. He runs his hand over your head, making sure no shampoo gets onto your face or in your eyes.

“There.” He says, admiring your now shining, sweet-scented hair. Your face is now splattered with droplets and your nose is red. Nanami kisses your cheek. “Good as new.”

-

ROADS

On a very rare weekday off, Nanami decides to take you to the Christmas market. Because it is a weekday, specifically Monday, it is quieter and far less busy than usual, near completely desolate. It makes going from stall to stall, sipping on freshly made, rich hot chocolate, admiring carefully handcrafted wooden sculptures, and observing pigmented paints all the more enjoyable.

“Ooo, Nanami!” You exclaim and point across the street. “That’s the new café I was telling you about! Remember, the one with the pastries and stuff?”

“Oh, right, I remember.” Nanami walks to the edge of the sidewalk, you following along and preparing to cross the street. “Let’s go and take a look.”

Nanami sticks his hand out for you to take while looking both ways on the street.

You stare at it, a little dumbfounded to be honest. You are an adult…you think you can manage crossing the street without any guidance.

He then turns his head your way, raising his eyebrows and glancing down at his outstretched, still empty hand.

“Let’s go, then.”

Sighing, smiling half-heartedly, you take his hand and he walks you across the street safely, both of you still holding hands as you make it to the café.

-

TELEPORTATION

Nanami exhales loudly as he sends he last email of the day, falling into the back of his seat and stretching. He’d been working from home all day, it was now dark outside.

What were you up to?

He leaves his office and walks around the office in search of you. First, the kitchen, and then the living room.

The living room is where he finds you, laying on your stomach with a blanket thrown over you, fast asleep.

Have you been here all day?

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Nanami steps over to you quietly, careful not to wake you up. He removes the blanket from you, pausing when you stir and then curls his arms beneath your knees and behind your back to lift you up.

He carries you upstairs and up to your shared bedroom. He lays you on the bed and puts the thick sheets over your body. You hum, and wiggle around in your sleep to get more comfortable.

His chest warms at your cuteness. Nanami kisses your forehead before getting ready for sleep himself.

*

When you wake up, you’re confused about how you ended up in bed and come to the conclusion that you obviously possess the powers of teleportation.

-

DINNERS

It was that time of year, you and Nanami’s annual Christmas dinner where you invited all of your close friends (just your friends, some things that happen during these type of gatherings should stay between friends only, not family).

After hours of laborious cooking and baking, the dining-room table is filled with succulent, freshly cooked foods, ready and yearning to be devoured.

You thank your friends to attending before you all dig in graciously.

While you’re eating, a considerable sized smear of sauce accumulates at the corner of your mouth unknowingly - until Nanami pauses his eating and points it out.

“You have something…” Nanami tells you, pointing to the corner of his own mouth as reference.

“Hm?” Your mouth is full and you missed what he said.

“You have-here.” Nanami licks his thumb and wipes the sauce away from your mouth, before picking up a napkin and rubbing away the rest of the excess. He squeezes the fat of your food-filled cheeks, cooing at how adorable you look.

“Oh. Thanks!”

You smile at each other. Then you notice it’s very quiet and look at the rest of the table.

All of your friends are staring at you and Nanami in what appears to be confusion.

Shoko speaks. “I…I don’t even have anything to say…”

*

a/n: this was just a little something not a fic ok…nothing serious. just wanted to share my yearning for nanami with everyone else <333