#he’s so emotional and it’s not surprising | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norrisainz33 · 2 days ago

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surprise || op81

☆ summary: oscar surprises his partner on valentine’s day

☆ pairing: oscar piastri x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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yourbff: DIVA DOWN

ynuser: it rough out here bestie i miss you and osco and im so tired

yourbff: my queen 😭 i miss you more and i know he does too bb. only a little bit more time and you’ll get to see him in aus!! plusssss im seeing you this weekend

ynuser: ugh i know i know it’s just a spilled coffee day and im emotional

user1: liammmmmm noooooo 😫

lando: rip

ynuser: rip is right

user2: i love how you just be a normal girly going to work and also dating the op81 like

oscarpiastri: spilled coffee or not you still look incredible

ynuser: thank you sweetheart

oscarpiastri: of course gorgeous. i just sent you £20 - go get another coffee on me please

ynuser: oscar 😭😭😭😭😭😭

mclarenf1: nooooo coffee in aus is on us!!

ynuser: love you admin 🧡

user3: girl i need you to post a grwm ur makeup is always flawless

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yourbff: OSCHINA 🗣️ i need ur assistance

oscarpiastri: lol what’s up?

yourbff: your darling girlfriend is down bad and i know she’s trying to pretend like she’s not for your sake but i think we should organize a lil something something to lift her spirits

oscarpiastri: already in the works. i was actually going to text you to ask for help

user2: i’m obsessed actually

mclarenf1: nice

user4: the home race hoodie!! take 💳 my 💳 money 💳

ynuser: cutie patootie i love the new helmet! p.s can’t wait for my piastri home race jumper to come in the mail

oscarpiastri: it should be there on friday with a special delivery 😉

ynuser: oooooo can’t wait

user5: this is gonna be your year oscar i just know it

user6: i can’t wait to see that fresh lid on track

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yourbff: i really hope you removed her from your close friends list before posting this

oscarpiastri: i did don’t worry! and she for sure is going to be at the restaurant we talked about at 7 right?

yourbff: yes!! she thinks she’s meeting me there for #galentines. you’re lucky i’m letting you steal my valentine

oscarpiastri: i am lucky that’s for sure! thank you for all your help ❤️

lando: omg are you going to see y/n/n

oscarpiastri: correct! gonna surprise her for valentine’s day

lando: C U T E

nicolepiastri: i wish you were coming home but go get that girl!!

oscarpiastri: i’ll be home soon ❤️

logansargeant: better be going to see y/n 🤨

oscarpiastri: i am 🥹 miss you man

mclarenf1: have fun oscar!

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user2: hot hot hot hot

yourbff: oh my god you’re gorgeous. i’m gonna have the hottest date tn

ynuser: stopppppp thank you

user7: oscar is the luckiest man in the world

oscarpiastri: wow sorry i just started drooling

ynuser: hahaha oscar 😂

oscarpiastri: can’t help it! you’re so insanely beautiful 😍😫

ynuser: and i’m all yours baby

oscarpiastri: mm thank goodness

alexandrasaintmleux: you’re stunning. i hope you know that baby girl

ynuser: alex i’m gonna cry 😭

user8: WOOF WOOF WOOF sorry idk what came over me there

iamrebeccad: happy valentines beautiful

ynuser: happy valentines darling!! i hope carlos treated you like the queen you are

iamrebeccad: i hope oscar does the same 😉

user9: idk if i wanna be you or be with you

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user5: may this sort of love find me

yourbff: 🤍🤍🤍 adorable

oscarpiastri: yes ❤️

user6: couple goals

ynuser: i’m sorry for ugly crying at dinner. thank you so much for flying all the way here to see me!! i know how crazy things are getting with the season so close😭🤍

oscarpiastri: never apologize for feeling your feelings baby. there’s no place i’d rather be than with you

ynuser: how did i get so lucky????

oscarpiastri: i often ask myself the same thing

user9: oscar you have to stop setting the bar for men so high

iamrebeccad: give her a hug for me

oscarpiastri: done 🫶🏻

mclarenf1: our favorite girl 💐🧡

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oscarpiastri: spent the weekend with my forever valentine

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opeightyone: our favorite duo 🤍

user9: my mom and dad 🗣️

lando: ewwwwww this is rlly cute

oscarpiastri: thanks?

user14: i just showed this to my partner and asked why they didn’t do this for me

ynuser: forever and always ❤️

oscarpiastri: promise?

ynuser: yes handsome 😘

user12: end game end game end game

nicolepiastri: love you both so much

ynuser: love YOU mama piastri

user14: y’all are the blueprint 🥹

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🤍 happy valentine’s day 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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verstappenverse · 2 days ago

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Just Another Valentine

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Every year you and Lando spend Valentine’s Day together as part of an unspoken tradition, but this year something feels different, something that is impossible for you to ignore.

1.8k words / Masterlist

Valentine’s Day always had a way of making you feel like a spectator in your own life.

The smell of chocolate and overpriced roses was thick in the air, reminding you of the one day of the year you could always count on to make you feel at least a little pathetic.

It wasn’t that you hated it. It was cute in theory, love, grand gestures, all of that. But when you were single, the whole thing felt a bit like a slap in the face. And unfortunately, this year was no different.

But at least you had one constant.

Lando had a habit of making sure neither of you ever spent this day alone. Every year, if you were both single (which, more often than not, you were), he’d take you out, making sure the day didn’t pass unnoticed. It started as a joke years ago and then, it happened again. And again. Until it was basically tradition.

So when your phone lit up that morning with a text from him saying, Pick you up at seven. Wear something nice 😉 you knew exactly what it meant.

And for some reason, you spent the whole day trying not to overthink it.

By the time 7:00 p.m. rolled around you had already changed twice, first into something dressy, then into something a little more casual, only to second-guess yourself and switch again. Which was ridiculous because it was just Lando.

The same Lando who raided your fridge without asking, who stole your blankets during movie nights without a hint of remorse, who had seen you half-asleep and drooling on the couch more times than you cared to admit. The Lando who teased you endlessly, who could read your mood with a single glance. Lando who had seen you at your absolute worst, stressed over exams, hungover from nights you barely remembered, even the times when you’d just been a mess of emotions, and he never once flinched.

So why were your hands shaking a little when you opened the door?

Lando leaned against the frame, dressed in something a little nicer than his usual hoodie and joggers, a fitted black sweater and dark tailored trousers, smelling like something expensive. His signature grin was in place, dimples and all, as his gaze ran over you slowly, eyes darkening slightly, though he covered it with a smirk.

“Damn,” he said, cocking his head. “You really listened to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You said ‘wear something nice.’ I figured you’d complain if I showed up in pyjamas.”

He put a hand over his heart in mock offense “I would never complain about anything you wore,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your coat. “Yeah, yeah. You want a gold star or something?”

“I’ll take a kiss on the cheek.”

You snorted. “In your dreams Norris.”

“You have no idea.”

You lightly smacked his arm as he led you out. The cool February air nipped at your skin as you got into his car, but it was warm inside, the radio playing quietly.

“So,” you said, glancing over. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, you were standing in front of a little restaurant you’d never been to before. Intimate, dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet part of town. Fairy lights lined the outdoor seating area, and through the windows, you could see tables set with candles, couples leaning in close over their meals.

The hostess led you to a table by the window, and Lando pulled out your chair, waiting until you sat before taking his own seat across from you. You raised an eyebrow at his oddly formal behavior, but he just smiled, picking up the menu like this was all completely normal.

“You really planned this?” you asked.

Lando leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

You eyed him, tapping the menu. “I don’t know. It’s suspicious.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Remind me how you’re single again?”

You exhaled a laugh, running a finger along the edge of your glass. “Probably the same reason you are.”

HIs expression flickered, something unreadable passing over his face before he leaned back, exhaling through his nose with a laugh.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you asked, “that we’ve spent more Valentine’s Days with each other than with people we’ve actually dated?”

Lando looked up. “Huh. Now that you mention it… yeah.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “Kinda sad, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Or maybe we just have shit taste in partners.”

You hummed, swirling the wine in your glass. “Speak for yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it just means we have good taste.”

“In each other?”

“Obviously.” He grinned. “C’mon, like I need an excuse to spend time with you.”

You paused for a second, something warm settling in your stomach.

The two of you had always been like this, flirting without thinking, teasing each other like it was second nature. But tonight, something felt different. The way his eyes lingered longer on you when you spoke. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a drink. The way your knees touched under the table, neither of you moving away.

Then, as the waiter cleared the table, Lando reached under his seat and pulled out an elegantly wrapped box, sliding it across to you.

You blinked at it. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a Lego Bouquet set, a build-your-own floral arrangement, colorful and intricate.

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You got me Lego flowers?”

“They won’t die,” he said, “and we could you know…build them together, it could be fun.”

You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he said, softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

You ran your fingers over the box, heart pounding a little harder than it should’ve been.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Is it weird?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s… really sweet.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t know why your voice was so quiet.

You let yourself relax as the evening passed, enjoying the food, the conversation, the way Lando somehow always knew how to make you laugh, and by the time dinner was over, the restaurant was starting to empty.

Lando leaned back in his chair, watching you. “So, did I do a good job?”

You smirked. “It was okay.”

He gasped dramatically. “Just okay?”

“Always fishing,” you laughed, nudging his foot under the table. “Fine. It was great. Thanks for making today a little less depressing.”

He scoffed with a laugh. “Wow. That’s the gratitude I get?”

You rolled your eyes but softened. “Alright, alright. You really didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

Lando tilted his head. “Yeah, I did.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your breath catch for a second. But before you could process it, he was standing up and paying the bill.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out a hand. “One more stop.”

You recognised where you were the second he parked up.

“The beach?”

He shrugged, killing the engine. “Yeah.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “In February? You hate the cold.”

He shot you a sideways glance, “I also hate traffic, but that would never stop me from picking you up.”

It was quiet this time of night, the sound of the waves filling the space between you as you walked along the sand. The air was cool, but Lando had given you his jacket somewhere along the way, and you pulled it tighter around yourself.

After a while, he stopped, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked out at the water.

You stood next to him, stealing a glance at his profile. The soft glow of the city lights reflecting from the water caught the edges of his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow.

After a moment, he sighed. “You okay?”

You blinked, glancing over. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been quiet.”

You shrugged, toeing at the sand. “Just thinking.”

Lando hummed. “About?”

And then, without thinking, you said it. “I can’t help but think that this is a little more effort than someone would normally put in for their friend.”

Lando turned to you, eyes searching yours.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Then—

“Guess I’m not as subtle as as I thought.”

You swallowed. “Lando—”

“I know,” he cut in, running a hand through his hair. “Bad timing, right? But I just… I don’t know how to keep pretending that I only do things like this because we’re friends.”

Your heart was hammering. “So, all of this—”

“Was me trying to tell you without actually telling you.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost shy.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling over you.

And then, suddenly, it all made sense.

The way he always put you first. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he showed up, year after year, on this day of all days. The way you never questioned it, because, well, deep down, you had always wanted it.

You took a step closer. “Lando.”

His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “You really didn’t need all this effort.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you—”

You kissed him before he could finish.

For a second, he froze. Then, his hands found your waist, pulling you in as he kissed you back.

You pulled back. “Say it.”

Lando swallowed, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“Say it,” you repeated, voice softer this time.

His fingers twitched around your waist.

Then, low and rough, “I want you.”

Your stomach flipped.

When you finally pulled back you were both breathing hard, the air between you charged. Lando's hands lingered on your waist, his thumb tracing absent circles against your hip, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

He let out a shaky laugh, exhaling slowly. “Fuck.”

You swallowed, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his sweater. “Yeah.”

His eyes flickered between yours, searching, like he was making sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Then, his lips curved into a smirk, soft, almost disbelieving.

“So… that wasn’t just a ‘thanks for dinner’ kind of kiss, was it?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, Lando. It wasn’t.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Cause I was really gonna struggle pretending otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He nudged your chin up with a knuckle. “You’re sure about this?”

You looked at him, really looked at him, the way his eyes held yours, the way his grip on you hadn’t loosened, the way this had always been inevitable.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m sure.”

Lando grinned, eyes bright with something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

“Finally,” he muttered, pulling you in again.

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trashytracktales · 3 days ago

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For VDay requests: Lando takes her to a nice dinner and she gets mad at him idk maybe he does something without realizing. And then they come back home and shes still pissed but he looks so good after he changes in his comfy clothes so they end up fucking on the couch or something but that's when she tells him why was she mad at him ��🥀

Happy Valentine's Day guys xx

Torn on Valentine | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for this request, I actually had so much fun with it. Enjoy your reading and happy Valentine’s, my lovelies!!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

🩷summary ──── Lando notices immediately that his girlfriend is angry with him. However, he has no idea why. But whatever the reason might be, he is determined to remind her exactly why she can't stay mad for long. It's Valentine’s Day, after all.

🩷pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🩷rating ──── explicit

🩷category ──── F/M

🩷warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, descriptive language, swearing, unresolved tension, teasing, jealous!reader, mild dominance, begging, unprotected sex, slight angst-to-smut.

🩷word count ──── 4.4k (4.444 to be exact hehe)

🩷date ──── Feb. 14, 2025

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

VALENTINE’S DAY IS ruined.

Lando had gone all out to make sure that won’t happen, starting the morning by waking her up with muffins in bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering in the sheets as he pressed lazy little kisses to her neck.

They spent the day walking around the city, and shopping, wandering through little boutiques where he insisted on buying her anything and everything she had laid her eyes on.

And then, la pièce de résistance: a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant, the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A soft melody played from a piano in the corner, setting the perfect atmosphere. The food was great, the wine was good, and every detail screamed romance, from the flickering candle between them to the way Lando’s thumb traced tiny heart shapes on her hand as they talked, his eyes never leaving hers.

All in all, it had been perfect. Until he ruined it.

The moment was burned into her mind, replaying it over and over again, like a broken record. The waiter, a girl who had been a little too friendly with him all night, had leaned in when she refilled his wine at some point, brushing his shoulder with a touch that lingered for too long. And Lando, oblivious as ever, had winked at her.

Winked.

She knew her boyfriend. Knew he was clueless about these things, that his flirty nature wasn’t always intentional. But that didn’t make it sting any less. Because the waiter had noticed. She smirked at him, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and acted like his girlfriend wasn’t literally sitting on the other side of the table.

After that, she had gone silent.

The entire ride home, she stared out the window, with her arms crossed and lips pursed, and her knees facing the opposite way from him. Lando figured something was wrong ever since; he glanced at her between shifts, brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything, probably thinking she was just tired.

Then they got home, and she had barely looked at him as she changed into something more comfortable, still replaying the scene in her head.

Had he done it on purpose? Probably not. But did it matter?

That’s… debatable. It mattered to her.

Deprived by every emotion except irritation, she followed Lando setting up his last surprise of the day — a cozy movie marathon on the couch, complete with fuzzy blankets, sweets and drinks, and a bunch of her favorite Valentine’s-themed movies ready to run.

Now, their apartment is quiet except for the hum of the TV that neither of them is really watching. The tension between them is thick, lingering in the air like a storm that hasn’t broken. Yet.

She breathes heavily, sitting curled up on the opposite side of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, and arms crossed over her chest. Lando, on the other side, is content to let her be.

Until he isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we playing the guessing game again?” he finally asks, voice edged with concern. He knows that she needs time to process whatever’s bothering her at the moment, but his patience has limits, too.

She doesn’t look at him, just shrugs as she lies, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Lando puffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Right. That’s why you’ve been side-eyeing me like I insulted your entire family ever since we got back. It’s annoying, you know? If you have something to say…” his voice trails off, but he feels a wave of anger building inside, so he decides to let go before making it worse.

Her jaw tightens.

She doesn’t want to give in, mostly because she knows that the reason why she’s mad is, well, kind of absurd. But at the same time, she’s frustrated in a way that isn’t just about her boyfriend winking at other girls. The weight of the week has been pressing down on her shoulders, and she needs something — him — but she’s too stubborn to say it. Especially now. Still, her eyes keep flickering down, lingering on the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lazy way he’s sprawled out, legs spread wide.

He catches her looking, fighting a smile as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. “You wanna sit on it?”

Her head snaps toward him, face heating instantly at his question. “What?”

Lando shrugs, “You keep looking,” he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of pretending you don’t want to.”

She scoffs, but can’t deny it. She does want to. Desperately. But she’s mad at him. So, she says nothing. Just presses her lips together, turning her attention back to the screen like she isn’t thinking about climbing onto his lap and letting him pull her apart, little by little.

On the TV, the main characters are making out, sending her mind spinning relentlessly, fueling her sudden desire. Apparently, that’s enough for her to decide that she has to put an end to it, finally taking Lando’s advice and speak her mind. But he’s faster. His hands are reaching out for her, almost like they appeared out of nowhere, gripping her waist, effortlessly pulling her onto his lap.

A surprised gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t fight him, and doesn’t push him away. If anything, she melts just a little, legs instinctively settling on either side of his hips.

He looks up at her, fingers squeezing at her waist. “That’s better, hm?”

She glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Lando raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” he counters, sliding his hands down to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing tiny, teasing circles on her skin. “And you’re not exactly running away.”

She hates how smug he is. Hates how easily he sees through her act. Hates how good he looks right now.

But then his hands slide further up, fingertips ghosting over the curve of her ass, pressing her down against him just enough for her to feel him through the fabric of his sweats. And the feeling is… intense to say the least, since she’s only wearing an oversized t-shirt and her pajama shorts.

Lando watches her closely, aware of the effect he has on her. “Gonna tell me why you’re mad, or do I have to make you forget?”

She shouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But when he shifts beneath her, dragging her forward so deliciously slow, her resolve crumbles.

Her hands grip his shoulders, nails pressing in. “Shut up.”

“And?”

She closes her eyes, exasperated by his attitude, “Shut up and do something.”

Lando grins at her bluntness, fingers tightening on her hips as he rolls her against him again. “Ask nicely.”

She huffs annoyed, but so needy it aches. “Lando,” she warns in a low voice.

Lando shakes his head. “No, baby. You know how this works,” he reminds her, lips brushing against her neck as his hands keep guide her movements. “Use your words.”

She breathes lightly, head tipping back as the friction sends heat pooling low in her belly. “Please?”

“See, that’s a good start,” he chuckles, nipping at her jaw and dragging his tongue over the sting, “But I know you can do better.”

Her pride wars with her desperation, but it’s a losing battle. She needs more than that, and she knows he won’t give it to her until she breaks.

Next time she speaks, her voice is a whisper, breathy yet sweet, “I need you, please.”

He smirks as he watches her through his eyelashes, happy with the state he managed to put her in so easily. “There goes my girl.”

Lando can see the shift in her the second he finishes his sentence. It’s in the way frustration morphs into impatience, and how her breath hitches every time he grinds her against him but doesn’t give her what she really wants.

“I know you’re enjoying this, but there’s no reason for you to take your sweet ass time, you know that,” she mutters, her voice edged with irritation.

Lando shrugs. “And you know I like watching you squirm.”

She rolls her eyes, but her body betrays her — again and again. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, while her thighs tense around his waist. With a sharp exhale, she moves on her own now, hands sliding down between them, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. Lando follows her movements, amused, but doesn’t stop her as she pulls them down just enough to free him.

Her breath catches at the sight: he’s already hard, the head flushed deep red, leaking just slightly.

She glances back at him, brows raised, but Lando shrugs again, as if the reason is obvious. “You on my lap, begging? Kinda hard not to get… you know, hard.”

Her stomach clenches at his nonchalance, the way he acts like it’s inevitable. Like, of course he’d be this ready for her. Duh.

Lando exhales excited as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking just enough to make his hips twitch beneath her. His breath gets slightly unsteady after that, but his control remains.

“Getting bold now?” he asks, eyes locked on her as he pushes her shirt up just a little, tracing his fingers along the warm skin of her waist.

The girl doesn’t answer, just bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down and letting them catch on the curve of her thighs before she kicks them away. That’s when the teasing glint in Lando’s eyes fades, replaced with something darker. He swallows hard, hands settling firm on her hips as he drinks her in.

“So soft,” he mumbles under his breath, mostly to himself.

She feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being half-naked. It’s like he’s seeing everything, because he knows her so deeply. Like he’s about to ruin her in the best way possible.

And she’s going to let him.

Lando wraps his hand around hers and, together, they pump his cock slowly, his gaze always on her, watching the way her body responds to the sight of it. Then he runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of wetness there while he moves purposely, dragging the length of himself through her folds, groaning at how slick and warm she is.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, while she needs to hold on to him with both hands now. “You’re dripping.”

She whimpers as he does it again, sliding against her, teasing her clit with the thick head before pulling back, drawing out her frustration.

“Lando, don’t…” she whines, shifting against his chest, trying to get more of him.

Lando laughs, low and raspy, but his grip on her isn’t loosening one bit. “Patience, baby.”

“I need—”

“Yeah?” he cuts her off, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance this time, barely pushing in before pulling back out. “What? This what you need?”

Her stomach flips at the feeling, so raw, unable to spit out any words. Instead, she only manages to nod.

To show her that he appreciates her honesty, Lando guides her hips, dragging her along his length, pressing his swollen tip against her clit once more and holding her there. Without moving. She gasps, her whole body shuddering as the pressure sends sparks through her nerves.

Lando groans, feeling how she pulses against him, how her body aches for more. “Well, shit. That’s pretty,” he admits, watching her fall apart in his hands.

She lets a little cry out in protest, trying to push down, but he keeps her there, right on the edge of everything, everything.

“You gonna beg for it again?” he asks in a teasing voice.

She wants to fight him on it, but she can’t. Not when she’s this close to him, when every second of waiting feels like pure, unfiltered torture.

She shakes her head, her little cry turning into a throaty moan.

Lando gets ecstatic at the sound and the way her body shivers — so desperate, so utterly wrecked for him before he’s even inside her. For a split second, he considers giving in completely. But then he remembers she’s mad at him. Or at least, she was. And if she thinks she can get away with that attitude without consequence, she needs to understand that she’s sorely mistaken.

Instead of giving her what she wants, Lando kisses her. Hard. His lips crash into hers, swallowing the whimper of frustration that slips from her throat. He starts guiding her against him, harder now, making her ride the thick length of his cock without ever letting her sink onto it, the friction sweet but never enough. She tries to pull back, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let her. One hand tangles in her hair, holding her close, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

Until her patience snaps and, with a sharp gasp, she bites his lip, just hard enough to make him hiss, her nails digging into his scalp as she pulls at his curls. Lando moans, a low, needy sound that strikes her like lightning. The sting, the fight, the way she’s clawing for a type of control she won’t get — not yet — motivates him to keep teasing her.

Annoyed, she lets her hand slip between them, fingers wrapping around his cock, slick and throbbing, before she finally sinks down onto him. Because, sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to take matters into your own hands.

At that, both of them go silent.

Her body tightens around him instantly, the fullness of him stealing her breath, making her walls flutter as she adjusts to his length.

Lando’s forehead presses against hers, his lips parting with a violent inhale, his hands squeezing her hips.

“Jesus, baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked, “What buttons did I push?”

She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t move. Neither does he.

They just sit like that, their bodies locked together so perfectly it almost feels cruel to even blink. The fight, the frustration, the teasing… it all fades away in one moment, replaced by something more intense. Something profund.

When she shifts just slightly, Lando whines, feeling the way she clenches around him, and how perfectly they fit together. The thought makes him throb inside her, the heat of her making his pulse race.

She presses her forehead harder against his, her breath shaky. “Baby,” she whispers, “Shit, you feel so good.”

Lando opens his eyes, finding hers already on him.

For a second, he’s happy to simply look at her. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lips are swollen from his kisses, the way she’s barely holding herself together — everything about her is perfection. Then, he lifts her up, and the sudden rush of cool air against his cock makes him moan.

She shrieks at the emptiness, at the way her body aches to take him back. “Please, not now,” she pleads.

Before she can continue, he shoves himself back in, agonizingly slow, making her feel every inch of him as he stretches her again. As a result, her head falls forward, a desperate whimper breaking from her throat.

Lando keeps his eyes on her, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks, “Already falling apart, love? I’ve barely even started.”

She whines, arms wrapping around his neck, hips twitching like she wants more. Much more.

“This what you needed, yes?” Lando taunts, rolling his hips just enough to make her lose her mind. “You gonna stop being a brat now?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Lando smiles, dragging himself out just to push back in, watching her eyes flutter shut.

“No, no. Keep those pretty eyes open,” he instructs, nipping at her jaw, “Come on. I wanna watch you break for me.”

Because he is absolutely evil, Lando keeps it slow. Too slow.

Every roll of his hips is calculated, dragging himself out so she feel his cock slipping away, then pushing back in deep, filling her up so completely it makes her walls pulsate. She can’t do anything but take it, her senses overwhelmed by him — by the rough drag of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his breath against her lips, the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

Then his hands move, sliding up from her waist, fingers tracing over her ribs before finally cupping her breasts. It makes her gasp, her back arching into his touch as his thumbs sweep over her nipples, teasing a little, then rolling them between his fingers.

“So sensitive, look at that,” says Lando, his voice thick with lust. “Are you shaking, baby?”

She is. Her thighs tremble where they straddle him, her whole body squeezing him with every slow thrust, every lazy swipe of his thumbs against her skin.

His gaze drops between them, and his breath stutters at the image. “Beautiful.”

She doesn’t understand at first, too lost in how slowly he fucks her, but then he guides her chin down, forcing her to look.

And oh, fuck.

She can see everything: the way her body stretches to take him in, the way she’s dripping down his entire length, making a mess on his lap, and the way her thighs are trembling on each side of him.

Lando’s heart starts beating faster, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “See how you’re fucking ruining me?”

She lets out a soft, broken moan, fingers playing absentmindedly with the curls at the back of his head, mostly to anchor herself in the moment.

“Lan…”

“I know, love,” his tongue flicks against her pulse point before he kisses her jaw. “Not so mad at me now, are you?”

Right now? No. She realizes she’s not. She can’t be. Not when he’s touching her like this, fucking into her with such lazy, devastating precision. Not when he’s whispering filth into her ear while looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Her hands move, framing his face, tilting it up so she can kiss him again. But this time, their kiss is different. It’s not angry, not desperate, but tender and loving. A kiss that makes Lando’s grip falter, that steals the breath from his lungs and sends him to a new world that’s only inhabited by them.

She whimpers hungrily against his lips, and that’s what breaks him, because he knows he broke her first.

A guttural moan rumbles from his chest as his fingers dig into her thighs. And then he snaps. “Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers next to her ear, thrusting into her harder. It takes her by surprise, the way he is holding her so tight like he’s trying to fuse them together. “Need you,” he adds.

The sudden change in pace fractures something in her brain to the point she can’t remember anything else except his name.

“It’s okay you’re mad,” Lando assures her. “You can be as mad as you want, yeah? All day, everyday,” he groans, voice wrecked. “I’m still gonna fuck you like this. Gonna give you exactly what you need. Whenever you need me, love.”

Her head falls back, a loud moan spilling from her lips as he loses himself in her, in the heat, the mess, and the way she clings to him.

“Always gonna take care of my girl,” he promises, sealing the words against her skin. “No matter what.”

She can feel his control slipping in the way his thrusts deepen, the rhythm faltering slightly as his breath becomes gradually uneven. He’s still trying to hold back, but she can tell he’s far from behaving. She feels his cock twitching so deliciously inside her, and the way his hands melt with her skin almost painfully on her hips. Every new sensation makes her dizzy, until it’s too much. The pressure building in her chest, the overwhelming feeling of him inside her, the way his hands start roaming over her skin, and his mouth leaving hot trails across her neck — all too much.

With a shaky breath, she collapses forward, her body unable to keep steady, falling against his chest as her hands slide weakly to his sides.

“I can’t,” she gasps, “Can’t hold myself up.”

Lando’s hands move immediately, his hold firm on her back, and voice filled with a deep urgency, “I got you, baby. You know I do.”

And then he flips them, his strength not-so-surprising as he rolls them onto the couch, her body now on her back with him above her. The new angle makes them both moan in unison, the sudden shift in depth making every movement feel sharper, more intense.

Lando’s hands find her thighs, pulling them apart so he can press deeper, pushing into her with a delicious force that makes her stomach tighten and her toes curl. The sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room — wet, sticky, perfect. Her hands reach up, gripping the back of the couch, her nails scratching at the fabric, trying to keep herself grounded as he fucks her harder.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando groans, his face flushed with sweat, his lips parted as he stares down at her, eyes wild with need. “You’re so fucking perfect, can’t get enough of you.”

She can feel him getting closer, the way his movements grow sloppier, more desperate, but there’s no slowing him down. He’s all in — in her, in the moment, and she can barely breathe under the weight of it all.

The sounds of their passion are unrestrained, loud, their breath ragged and frantic. It’s all they hear now: her moans, his grunts, the soft squeak of the couch beneath them. But as the tension starts to crack, she feels herself spiraling as closer to the edge as he is, and she finally feels the last remnants of her jealousy fade away.

She looks up at him, her vision blurry from the pleasure. “You… winked at the waiter.”

Lando freezes for just a moment, his thrusts shallow, and he looks down at her, confusion flickering in his eyes as he forces himself to regain control. “I did?” he breathes out wildly, his lips twitching with a laugh that’s barely contained.

She moans, biting her lip as she writhes under him, “Yes, when she came back with the wine,” she admits, her voice soft, barely a whisper. “It was so stupid, I wanted to throw it in your face.”

Lando finally laughs, a genuine chuckle, his face still flushed with pleasure. “Always so dramatic, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her lips before pulling back. “Wanted to be mad, but you’re too busy getting fucked to even care now, hm?”

She wants to argue, wants to tell him he’s being a cocky bastard, but the words get lost in the sound of her own moans as his rhythm picks up again, faster this time, his cock hitting places inside her that have her seeing stars.

“Oh,” she gasps, her voice full of the tension and the blinding pressure building in her chest, “I’m so... Fuck. I’m close.”

Lando doesn’t ease off. “I know, baby. I feel it.” He pushes her closer, his hands gripping her legs just right, his thrusts brutal and relentless. “Wanna come for me?”

She doesn’t have enough time to process his words. The wave hits her hard, crashing over her like an unstoppable force, and her body goes taut, every nerve lighting up as she cries out, her back arching off the couch as she cums around him.

And Lando isn’t far behind.

He slams into her once more, and then his head falls on her chest with a groan as he releases, the hot pulse of his cum filling her up just as her own orgasm shakes through her. Breathless, they stay like that, bodies joined, both of them tangled in the aftershocks of their release.

“Next time, don’t wink at other girls if you want to keep your eyes,” she finally says, feeling him softening inside her.

“Next time,” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath, “Don’t go non-verbal on me. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She smiles weakly, pressing her lips to his. “You never mean it like that, do you?”

The air between them thickens, leaving behind an almost palpable silence. Affected by her last affirmation, Lando’s hands find home on her skin, the touch light, slightly hesitant, like he’s afraid to disrupt the fragile calm that’s settled between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She traces her fingers through his curls, her body feeling like a flame now, flickering gently after being ignited. There’s a warmth spreading from her chest, outwards, a comfort that soothes the storm inside her. But still, her heart races, and the lingering heat from their connection seems to hum through her veins.

Lando shifts, moving to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her. She nestles into him, feeling the heat of his skin and the sweat against hers, the warmth of him grounding her.

“You okay?” she hears him again.

“Yeah... just needed a moment to catch my breath,” her voice is a soft murmur in his ears.

Lando smiles weakly, his lips curling with that familiar grin. He brushes a lock of hair from her face, fingers skimming her cheek like a whisper, and the gesture is enough to make her chest tighten.

“You’re everything I need, silly. Always.”

She knows that. And luckily, the storm inside her has subsided. “I’m sorry, too. For being stubborn,” she whispers, her voice full of a quiet vulnerability.

Lando chuckles, “Stubborn is an understatement.”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Don’t push it.”

His hands, once firm and assertive, now trace delicate patterns over her skin, mapping every curve, every inch of her as though trying to imprint her into his soul. There is no need for words now, not anymore.

As Lando presses another soft kiss to her lips, she remembers why they will always be able to overcome any childish misunderstanding.

“I love you,” she says, her voice steady.

He smiles, feeling a familiar warmth spreading in his chest. And, instead of saying it back, Lando tilts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a teasing smirk.

Then, he winks at her.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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tojisun · 1 day ago

Note

gaz is the type to mention a daughter in complete seriousness then proceed to pull a kitten out of his pocket to show u and price

yes!!! this did numbers to my emotions, i had to word vomit:

he’s been going around, telling the squad how he can’t wait to introduce them to his precious darling. to his little girl. to his lovely daughter. and every time someone tries to ask him questions, such as, “when the fuck did you become a dad?” kyle just avoids them with such finesse.

he’d suddenly remember a key detail in a mission, or nudge the conversation away from him being the focus with the slightest of effort, before hiding from them in plain sight.

but you. oh, you were curious; downright shaken with not knowing. and gaz just looked at you, curling his nose, and finally murmured, “i’ll introduce you to her first. she’ll love you, i just know.”

and it—

it made your heart full. how kyle was so open in his excitement, boyishly charming as he snort-giggles.

so of course you never expected a tiny tabby, barely five weeks old, to be pulled out from his jumper pocket when he finally asked if you were ready to see her.

“this is mack,” he says, bringing his cupped hand up to show you the mewing kitten. “short for mackerel, because it’s all she wants to eat.”

“oh,” you say, croaking, heart soaring because there is something so beautiful in seeing kyle be so—

content.

“hi, little girl,” you greet the tabby, voice barely a breath of a whisper because she is so small, so fragile.

her big eyes sparkling as she looks up at you, then back to her dad, before finding you again. a blink. a tilt of her head, like she can’t understand what you are, and then a mew; a quiet chirp from the baby.

“wh’s goin’ on ‘ere?” your captain’s voice rings from behind you. kyle doesn’t bother replying, and you can barely react when john’s boots begin to thud against the floor, devouring the space, before you feel him brush his shoulder to your own as he stands close.

“oh,” john says, just as surprised.

“name’s mack,” you tell him because kyle is now distracted by the kitten nipping at his thumb. “his ‘daughter’.”

“oh,” john repeats, but with more emotion, and you turn slightly, peering up at him, trying to understand what caused that waver in his voice, only to see him watching kyle and the kitten with something… tangible.

“yeah,” you say, throat bobbing as you try swallowing the lump lodged in there because you get it. you understand the longing in your captain’s eyes. “yeah.”

#I LOVE THIS TRIO BADDDDD #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #x reader #suns #anon #ask

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gilithan · 7 hours ago

Text

What's cool is 12AM actually shows that logic *doesn't* convince everyone because their bias and prejudice clouds the truth. Moreso, biased and prejudiced people *use* logic to justify their bias.

The most interesting analysis of 12AM comes if you assume that the kid actually was guilty, and the play is less about saving someone innocent, and more showing that regardless of innocence or guilt, bias has no place in deciding truth.

In the end, Juror 4 clings to the one piece of evidence yet to be refuted, even when the rest is in doubt, because he is biased against the very idea that he could have been wrong. It's only when that, too, is in doubt, does he change his mind.

Juror 3 holds out till the very end, no evidence convinces him, even when his own hypocrisy and circular logic is pointed out to him he refuses, but the others hold fast and simply watch as his facade breaks down and his true reasoning becomes apparent. He breaks down, and is almost ashamed, but the others don't blame him, but even show him respect afterwards, understanding that he did not intentionally mistreat this boy, but had his perception twisted by his own crises.

Juror 10 is interesting, because his prejudice was clear from early on, even to himself, and he didn't feel ashamed at all. No logic would solve this, no emotional breakthrough would help. So the others do the only thing they can, they turn away, ignore him, show him no one will listen to a word he has to say. In the end, he only votes not guilty so it can be over, so he avoids criticism for his views.

I've taught 12AM for the past three years to Yr 10s, it's a brilliant text that surprises the kids with how relevant and timeless it is.

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inbabylontheywept · 2 days ago

Text

Kartchner Caverns

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk. And after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts), I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety: No more poor-man's time travel. No more ambien. One less morally ambiguawesome parenting decision from my crazy-ass dad.

I was talking with him when it happened.

I can't remember exactly what we were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we woke up my little brother.

(Nothing good happens from waking the dreamer. Best case scenario, the dream ends. Worst case, it doesn't.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. Our dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. Dad and I both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams.

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world.

"Wow," he said at long last.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world.

"It's terrible," he said. "Awful. Is Mexico always like this?"

"We're still in America," my dad said back.

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder.

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun.

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire.

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody bothers to build up because there’s nothing to be gained from density. The city will never be walkable, because the problem isn’t infrastructure. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers.

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse upon the inheritors of Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder.

And each step into that cave did.

My tour guide and psychopomp was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals.

It was a good work dynamic.

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

They were beautiful. I can wax poetic at the keyboard, but in real life, my exclamation of wonder is primarily Hot Damn.

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly.

"They're pretty fun aren't they? Took a few eons to make 'em but I think it was worth the wait."

I was charmed by the way he talked. I knew it was just a fluke of tenses, but there was something funny about the way he described them - as if he personally oversaw each of the dainty little spires. We went further, and he pointed out more formations as we came across them.

"Behold!" he said just a few feet further. "Fried eggs!"

And I had to admit: There were fried eggs.

"Behold!" he said further still. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. It didn't look terribly shieldlike, but who knows - maybe he made the shields first and got better as he went along. The eggs were beautiful.

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down there it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized snake.

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall.

And then all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me.

Now, I want to bring something up right about now. At this point, you might be tempted to write off the unease that I was feeling as claustrophobia. Which would make sense - caves unsettle a lot of people. But not me. I'm borderline claustrophilic. When I was a child, I didn't feel comfortable reading until I was wedged somewhere. Behind a shelf, or in a cabinet, or even underneath the beanbag my parents had intended for sitting. Those were my happy places. I liked being crammed into tight spaces.

I did not like that cave.

The section of serpent-stone narrowed the further we went. The room started off maybe six feet wide, but eventually it narrowed down. First to five, then four, then three. Two. And it didn’t stop at one.

The old man put me in front at that point. Said that if I got stuck, he could just push me forward. Didn't occur to me until I'd gone another hundred feet forward, sideways, that maybe getting dragged out would be better. But I was strangely reluctant to bring it up. I’d already let myself get cornered. There was nothing to be gained from letting him know my thoughts.

But the only way to keep them secret was by going forward. So I poured myself through the crack, slick as slip.

There's a grain to the scales of serpent-stone, both in the shape of the formations and in the texture of the individual pieces. They're metamorphic, but there's enough sediment left to ‘em that they have a grain. They bite when you go one way, and slide when you go the other. It felt like I was ratcheting myself in. Even if I could slip forward more, I didn't think I could go back. Not without wearing myself down into something skinless and screaming.

Water began to pool up in sections. It was cold enough to avoid the stink that still waters normally carry, but things stranger than algae festered in the waters beneath my feet. The puddles felt thick, almost slimy. A dozen steps later I saw little ropes of the stuff trickling down my feet.

Eventually, it got so narrow I couldn't turn my head. I could still hear the old man behind me, but only through little things - the occasional sharp inhale, or steps just an eighth of a beat off from my own. But never words. I remember stopping at one point, just to get pushed, just to know he was there. And he refused. All I heard for fifteen minutes was his breathing behind me.

He'd called my bluff. There was nowhere to go but forward.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don't know why it took so long to get dark down there. I wasn't carrying a flashlight, and if the old man had been carrying one, I'd have seen it bob with his steps. There was a sort of soft glow to everything but that had faded hour by hour. Eventually it didn't matter that I couldn't turn my head sideways - I wouldn't have been able to see the man if he'd been two inches in front of me. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and just when I was about to get stuck for real - stuck in a way where I wouldn't be able to step forward, where I'd have to be pushed (or dragged back along the sharpness of the scales) - I popped out of the serpent stone crevasse like a cork from a bottle.

Plunk.

I can't tell you the relief that I felt at that moment. It didn't matter that I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I'd never been claustrophobic in my life, but at that moment, I couldn't stand even the proximity of the crevice. I scrambled forward, stumbling over the rough cave floor, desperate and eager to find the next wall. To get some sense of where I was.

I never did. Even as I calmed down, even as the relief of being free of that infernal vice sat upon me like a crown, I never found another wall. Anywhere. I walked until fear made me crawl, as low and blind as any worm. I crawled until my pants tore and my knees bled and my spine ached.

And I found nothing.

When the vastness of the space truly sank in, when I realized that leaving that first wall had been a mistake, I turned back. But some choices can't be unmade. There were no walls. Not anymore. No matter how far I crawled, how hard I tried, there was no end. There was nothing but perfect darkness, broken stone, and endless snaking trickles of cold cavern water.

I dipped a finger in one of the rivulets. Just to feel it. Just to ground myself in something. I felt the waters slither past, and I found something like sight in their motion.

Water always goes down. Whatever else I lacked down here in the stone, in that moment, I knew up and down. And for the first time in hours, I had a choice. A real choice. No instinct or panic or too late realizations: Up or down.

I went down.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I’d visited a rope factory once. Watched the threads dance and spin and weave into something mighty. I got a blind man’s sense of that from my trickle. I felt it meet more of its kind, braiding into them like thread. I liked pretending it was still my rivulet, but eventually, I had to admit it was lost in the mess. Picking out one thread from a rope would be easy, compared to picking out one trickle from a river.

Funny how water can drown in itself.

The first contaminant to the water was iron. I could smell it in the air - strong as blood. It should have unsettled me, but I’d smelled water like that before. My grandpas well-water stained everything it touched rusty red. His sinks, his showers, his fields. Even his teeth. He was wealthy enough that he could've wiped the stains off decades back, but he told me once that he liked the way it made other people uncomfortable. The way it reminded everyone who saw him smile that by sacrament or soil, they too drank of god.

The next contaminant was the thick water from before. Apparently, the stagnant pools weren’t as still as I’d thought. Somehow, over strange eons, they too could seep through the stone and make their way into this deep river. It was scentless, but I could feel it catch around my ankles on some steps. It seemed like a memory from a different life. I just didn’t feel like the same person that crawled through the serpent-stone crack. I was just some stranger wearing his shed skin.

Then at long last came a smell of deep sulphur 🜏. It was an odd contrast with the sharply cold air, and the strangely warm waters. It was the least pleasant of the bunch, but I endured it well. I followed until the tears streaming down my cheeks felt as normal as breathing. Until the rush of the river was replaced by the pounding of waves.

I’d arrived on a beach. I couldn’t see the ocean in front of me, but I could hear how vast it had to be. There was a terrible stench, worse than the sulphur - the smell of some vast death. Godly carrion. A wound in the world long left to fester.

I sat there on the beach of that ocean. Afraid to let those dark waters touch me. Thinking and waiting and worrying about what would happen next.

A voice spoke just twenty feet behind me. I recognized it. I never would’ve recognized it before, but there was a knack to the way this place wore me thin. Like a razor getting sharpened instead of a shirt going ratty.

“You’re very close,” the old man said, and I remembered him from all those years ago - sitting cross-legged in the moonlight by the bank of the canal. Looking up at me, eyes dark, and calling me over to tell me a secret.

There's one God in this world, he said then. One God. And it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone.

So this is our hell.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I turned around. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have been able to see him. I shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But I could see the outline of where he was on that shoreline. Not as a bright thing, but as a darker shade of absence. A little hole in the dark.

I could have run. But that would’ve required taking my eyes off him, and at that moment I couldn’t bear the thought. He was the only thing to see down there. The only reason I had eyes. But somehow, more important than the joy of seeing was the feeling that as long as I kept my eyes on him, he was trapped. Pinned to this world like a butterfly on cork.

There was a half second pause. The voice was a memory, but seeing through the gaps was new to me. The thing in front of me wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t even good at pretending. I was oddly embarrassed that I’d ever been fooled by it. What I was looking at was something older than this cave. Something trapped down here so long it could not bear the thought of light. The dream of something dead. The sloughed skin of a snake.

The first apple eater.

I could see shades of absence. More than the hole in the dark. I could look at the thing and feel the place where its wings should have been. Its first ones, at least.

It lunged for me.

I’d forgotten it could do that.

It slammed into me like the water from the bottom of a dam. The power was nothing compared to the cold. I couldn’t see a thing, but what I could feel made bile climb up my throat.

It was melting. Running down itself in little streams, like snow melting in the sun. Like the river I followed all the way down here. A hand ran over my face and I could feel it pouring into me, and in my fury I did the only thing I could think of: I reached up, and I wrapped my hands around its neck, and I clenched so hard that I could feel the tendons in my wrist sawing up through my skin, taut as piano wire.

It was like squeezing wet clay. It deformed under my touch, stretching longer and thinner and smoother even as the muscular length of his impossibly long body wrapped around me. At some point the fists beating on my chest turned into wings. Stolen wings, to replace the ones that were stolen from it, and there was a scream in the cave it was so awful that it wasn’t mine.

It was a terrible race. We were killing each other the same way. There was no question about someone dying here in front of the empty throne of god. I just didn’t want it to be me.

Eventually, it could stretch no more, and my hands could crush more than just nightmare and shadow. The wings beat on me weaker, and weaker, until eventually some cartilage in its great neck snapped under the pressure of my thumbs.

It was like cracking a glow stick. There was a flash of light, brief as thunder, and I could see the waves in front of me. An ocean of rotting meat and bones. The outline of some great, dead serpent, fifty feet tall. And a tower of dead bodies, stretching back to ages that I could not recognize. The only corpses I could recognize were those at the top, with their strange helmets and iconic breastplates.

Conquistadors.

When the light went out, the body went with it. Most dreams don’t leave anything behind. Even when they’re made by gods.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don’t know how I left the cave.

I followed the river up. At some point, it stopped being the river I followed down. The tributaries feeding into it spread out like a fan, and fool that I am, I kept picking left. It shouldn’t have worked. Part of me wonders if I somehow bent the river to my will. Filled in for the dead thing bobbing in the lake, or the echo that I strangled on that starless shore.

Or maybe I just got lucky.

I can remember finally breaching the incline and seeing an exit into the desert. Not the one I stepped in through, but good enough. I can remember getting closer and closer, before stepping out into the burning sun. I thought it was finally over.

I thought wrong.

I can remember looking into the bright blue sky and seeing exactly what my little brother saw on that drive all those years back.

I don’t know what I killed down in the cave. Some dead thing in the dark, dreaming it was alive. An altar of blood and bone, designed to hold a fragment.

But the real thing sat there in the sky. Curled up so tight and so smooth, you could mistake it for a ball. Waiting, and watching, and hating. Alive but dreaming death. The mould that stamped out the form of what lay in the cave.

Quetzalcoatl, I learned later. The feathered serpent.

I moved the month after that. Went somewhere north, somewhere cold, somewhere that a snake wouldn’t follow. Most days now, I look up, and I just see the sun. A flaming ball of gas. A little, red, star.

But only most.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙 𓇳

Thanks to @qsatisfaction and @foldingfittedsheets for being my editors on this piece. And thanks to @dr-robert-chase-apologist for providing the prompt.

#babylon-fiction #weird memories and outright lies mishmashed together #kartchner caverns #wish there was a way to highlight in yellow #but orange works in a pinch

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littlepeach-world · 2 days ago

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Valentine's Paradise

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: In-ho surprises you for valentines day.

Warnings: Fluff, Gift Giving, Sweet!inho, Cute!Inho.

Word count: 1.04k

Notes: Feeding my delusions with this one 😭. Enjoy! 🧡

You and In-ho arrive at a beautiful, secluded island under a brilliant sky, the perfect place for a Valentine's Day getaway. The air is warm, carrying the scent of the ocean and blooming flowers. In-ho, always the planner, has orchestrated a surprise vacation that seems to have sprung from a dream.

As you walk hand in hand along the sandy path leading from the pier, your heart skips a beat at the sight of a stunning beach house emerging in front of you. The modern architecture melds seamlessly with the natural surroundings. You can't help but gasp, eyes wide with wonder.

Inho's deep, melodic chuckle fills the air as he finds your reaction utterly adorable.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"It's beautiful. I can't believe you did all this," you reply, your voice filled with awe.

He smiles and lifts your hand to his lips, brushing it with a tender kiss before guiding you toward the entrance.

"Come on, there's more to see," he says, leading you inside.

Walking into the house, you are instantly enveloped by an aura of luxury and romance. Soft lighting, plush furnishings, and a color palette that feels both sophisticated and soothing greet you. However, what takes your breath away are the myriad gifts that adorn the living space, every corner of the room filled with beautifully wrapped presents. Each one thoughtful and personal, symbolizing Inho's love for you.

Overwhelmed, you gasp again and throw your arms around In-ho, your lips capturing him in a heartfelt kiss.

"Thank you, baby," you whisper, your voice brimming with emotion.

He holds you close, his smile warm and reassuring. "Anything for you, my love. Happy Valentine's Day."

Inho's eyes sparkle as he watches you unwrap the gifts, each one met with squeals of delight and wide-eyed wonder. The living room is filled with the sounds of your laughter and exclamations as you discover each thoughtful present he has chosen for you.

"Oh my gosh, this is stunning!" you exclaim, holding up a delicate piece adorned with a shimmering pendant.

"I'm glad you like it," In-ho replies, his voice warm with satisfaction. "It reminded me of you—elegant and radiant."

After opening the last box from In-ho, you can't help but let your gaze hover over a beautifully wrapped package that you've been saving just for this moment. Your heartbeat quickens with anticipation.

"I have something for you too," you say, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"You didn't have to get me anything" he replies, though his curiosity is clearly piqued.

"I know, but I really wanted to," you respond, handing him the box eagerly. "Go ahead, open it."

In-ho carefully unwraps the gift, removing the layers of paper to reveal an intricately crafted wooden box. His eyes widen in surprise as he lifts the lid and finds a vintage comic book lying inside, its cover adorned with vibrant illustrations.

"No way," he breathes, gently picking up the comic book and tracing his fingers over the familiar characters. "This... this is the comic I always wanted as a kid but could never find. How did you even get this? It's so rare."

You smile, watching the mix of emotions play across his face. "I did a lot of searching and had a little help from a few collectors. I wanted to give you something special, something that would bring back happy memories."

Inho's usually guarded demeanor begins to unravel, his eyes shimmering with genuine emotion as he gazes at the vintage comic book. His voice trembles slightly as he speaks, trying to hold back the full tide of his feelings.

"Jagiya this... this is incredible," he murmurs. "I can't believe you found it. It means more to me than you could ever know."

He pauses for a moment, collecting himself, but you can see the depth of his gratitude and the memories this gift stirs in him. The walls he's built seem to soften, revealing a more vulnerable side that touches your heart.

Unable to hold back any longer, In-ho steps closer, cupping your face gently with his hands. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with warmth and affection. "Thank you," he whispers again, this time more tenderly, as though the words are meant only for you.

In a moment that feels like the world has slowed to a breathtaking halt, he leans in and kisses you softly. It's a kiss laden with gratitude, affection, and a silent promise of love that needs no words.

You melt into the embrace, feeling the reassurance of his warmth and sincerity envelop you. Your arms find their natural place around him, holding him close as you both savor the intimacy of the moment.

After savoring the moment, your curiosity urges you to explore your surroundings further. Taking Inho's arm, you embark on a self-guided tour of the house. Every room seems more beautiful than the last, with expansive windows showcasing breathtaking views of the ocean and the verdant landscape.

"Look at those waves," you marvel, pointing to the surging ocean just beyond the glass. "It's like our own private paradise."

"That's exactly what I hoped you'd think," Inho says. He watches you with a gentle smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your delight.

After you've explored every nook and cranny, In-ho suggests you both freshen up to prepare for the evening. "Why don't we get ready for dinner? I have another surprise for you," he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With excitement bubbling within, you take a refreshing shower, letting the water wash away any lingering traces of the day. Feeling invigorated, you dress up in your finest attire. As you slip into your elegant dress, you can't help but smile at the reflection in the mirror, feeling the magic of the evening envelop you.

"Ready, my love?" In-ho calls from the hallway, looking dashing in his tailored suit.

You step out, your eyes meeting his. "Ready," you reply, your voice filled with anticipation. Taking his arm once more, you follow him to whatever enchanting experience he has planned next, knowing this is a Valentine's Day you will treasure forever.

The setting for dinner is nothing short of magical—right next to the ocean, with rose petals scattered around and flickering candles casting a warm glow. The waves gently lap at the shore, providing a soothing soundtrack to your intimate meal.

The chef, specially hired by In-ho, presents your favorite cuisine, each dish more delectable than the last. The dinner is filled with laughter, shared memories, and sweet compliments. Inho's typically stern exterior melts away as he listens to your stories, his eyes reflecting warmth and adoration.

When the meal winds down, In-ho leans forward and asks, "Did you enjoy your day?" His voice is filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.

"More than enjoyed," you respond, your eyes meeting his. "Saying I enjoyed my day is an understatement. I'm more than pleased with everything you've done. I'm so grateful."

Inho's solemn nod is followed by another question, "Do you like the island?"

"It's beautiful," you reply, almost breathless with sincerity.

He pauses, then says, "It's yours."

You blink in confusion, your brows furrowing. "What?"

"The island," he clarifies with a gentle smile. "I bought it for you."

You are utterly stunned, your voice barely a whisper. "What..?"

Inho's gentle smile never falters as he repeats, "The island is yours."

Your voice rises in disbelief as you exclaim, "YOU BOUGHT ME AN ISLAND! WHAT THE FUCK?"

In-ho laughs softly, the humor in his eyes unmistakable. "What? Is it not big enough? We can always go find a bigger one."

You shake your head, a mixture of disbelief and affection in your eyes. "You don't have to spend so much on me. I love you regardless of what..." Your words trail off as Inho pulls you close, guiding you to sit on his lap.

His arms wrap around you securely as he kisses you passionately, pouring all his unspoken devotion into that kiss. When he pulls back, his voice is low and earnest. "Money means nothing compared to you. There’s no amount of money that could ever measure up to what you mean to me."

In that moment, the world feels perfect. Your lips meet his again, and you know that no matter the luxury or grandeur, it’s this simple, profound love that makes everything truly precious.

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cyberrmusee · 2 days ago

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currently thinkin bout

stoic!kuna x bubbly!blackgf

you didn’t understand a lot of things. physics, chemistry, math, in any form, god math.. you hated that stupid fucking subject. but more than anything, what vexed you most on the planet, was your boyfriend, sukuna.

he was so cold and stoic, you never really saw him display any form of emotion other than straight up dissatisfaction. other than when he was absolutely fucking your brains out, which he currently was.

you were in the meanest mating press, your knees nearly pressed against the pillow behind your head as he brought the full weight of his body down every time he thrusted forward. the bed shook viciously, headboard banging against the wall. “ah- ah! k-kuna!”

he grunted in response, his nails digging in your hips from how tight his grip was, he was staring at how his cock slid in and out you, soaked with your juices as his hips smacked against yours, back and forth—plap plap plap!

“shit so—hah-fuckin good mama.” he growled as he worked his hips forward. every time he fucked you it felt like losing your virginity all over again. he split you open so good, it was white hot pain but deep intense pleasure.

your boyfriend couldn’t get enough of you, like— ever. he wasn’t the best at showing you how much he loved or cared for you, displays of affection just weren’t really his thing, but when he was balls deep inside of you? god call him a fuckin romantic—

“so fuckin—ah shit— wet…all f’me hm ma?” he growled as he held you in place and drilled your hole. you swore you could feel your life essence slipping from you. “y-yes.. s’fuh you kuna.. all yours..—ngh- s’yours baby”

he could’ve nearly came on the spot at the way you sounded so desperate to please him with your words and cunt as it fluttered and spasmed around his cock. his head was high in the clouds.

“fuckin love this pussy—fuck— fuckin love you.” he muttered, completely pussy drunk from the way your spongey walls gripped and swallowed him. your eyes shot to his face, and he was already looking at you.

wait what?

he could see the shock on your face and he smirked as he leaned his body in real close, his face right in front of yours, his hips still slotting back and forth as he looked down at you.

“s’right gorgeous. i love you.” he breathed softly before kissing you deeply, his hips snapping against yours with vigor. you mewled into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer as he swallowed every sound you made before he pulled away.

he looked at you and you could’ve swore you saw hearts in his eyes, a heat flushing in your chest and abdomen. “i- i love you too kuna” you whined as your eyes started to roll back.

he wouldn’t outright admit it at least not yet, but he loved you more than anything on earth or any realm. so much so that—

“marry me mama” he blurted out, he wanted to propose properly, take you out in a nice dinner date and surprise you but, he couldn’t keep waiting, he loved you now, wanted you to be his wife now.

you were stunned into silence,you couldn’t tell if it was how deep his cock was hitting as it repeatedly bullied your cervix or the fact your boyfriend, of nearly two years, just asked you to be his wife.

“want—oh fuck.. want you to have my babies ma” he breathed out in a.. whine? your big, brooding boyfriend who never so much as flinched at anything? is whining, asking you to be his wife and carry his children as he railed you?

how could you deny him? especially since he sounded so pretty whining and begging to be your husband and you were mere milliseconds from having quite possibly the best orgasm he’s ever given you.

you cunt clamped his dick, your orgasm tearing through you, as tears began to prick the corners of your eyes and fall “yes.. yesyesyes kuna’ yes!” you whined as your juices flowed out of you covering the sheets and his cock and balls triggering his own orgasm.

his hips faltered as he slammed into you once last time groaning as he pressed your bodies together “gonna make you the prettiest mama n’ wife ohmygoddd fuck” his cum rocketing out of him like a pressure washer into your cunt, his cock pushing deeper to ensure all of his seed made it deep into your womb.

he wasn’t the best with showing affection all the time, but his actions..these actions?

maybe your boyfriend fiancé and future husband was starting to make sense after all.

a/n: i’m on my cycle and i’m craving a family with his insane ass, that’s actually so normal, i’m normal. 🙂

happy v-day hornies! <3

-love cyber

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mysterymessmachine · 3 days ago

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"Absolutely preposterous," huffs the king. He tiptoes over a loaded tripwire and around a series of pressure-activated tiles in the floor, "That one should have to live one's life in such a manner, all because of some silly rumor!"

He stops in front of a large wooden door, disproportionate both in size and adornment to the other doors in this wing. A polished gold placard hangs between large glittering swirls on the door: HEAD OF CASTLE SECURITY. Straightening his robe and his posture, he allows himself a single deep breath.

Not quite as centering has he'd hoped, but he cannot allow any heresay around the castle about a king who presents himself as anything less than divine. Reputation, after all, is crucial to the continuation of the monarchy. He knocks sharply.

Beneath the placard, a small panel pops open. Familiar eyes peer out from the darkness, adjusting to the harsh light invading. The pain held in the moment before that familiarity is returned to him is enough to fell his best soldiers, and he falters. But appearances are everything and that moment is quite a bit shorter than the eternity it seems to last, so he remains.

An unfamiliar mix of emotions washes out the brightness in her eyes. She snaps, muffled by the heavy door, "You know you're not supposed to be here."

He clears his throat to mask his surprise at her abrupt disrespect. This was going to be more difficult than expected. Puffing up slightly, he shifts his stance wider.

"Enough is enough, Princess. You are not permitted to simply change the passwords on these... these... 'pets' that you weren't allowed in the first place! We need to move past this childish prophecy." He lifts his evidence, the still-smoldering edges of his very important scrolls, into view of the window.

"Father, you must understand that I take my role as Head of Castle Security with the utmost seriousness. That wizard predicted that my mistakes are the reason you'll be killed. I can't allow myself to rest. I have to fix it. I need to. I can't stop until I know you're safe."

He sighs softly, knowing better than to push any further, and listens as she rambles about her elaborate plans to disprove the prophecy by vowing to keep him safe. Eventually, the hatch snaps shut again, and the entire wing fills with an uncomfortable, overwhelming silence. After a glance around to ensure none of the staff witnessed an episode this time, he strolls off to the dining hall. Tonight is the first time in months that the entire family is allowed to eat together, and he'd rather like to be early.

A dull roar seeps from the dining hall, creeping to the end of the corridor, and the king smiles. A small sigh of relief accompanies a rush of warm feelings. Loud, busy dining halls mean seats occupied by loved ones and tables overflowing with feasts. His pace quickens.

The hall was, as expected, filled with family and food. It was also packed shoulder-to-shoulder with his entire guard, attack 'pets,' wizards, assassins, archers, and, of course, plenty of traps. The loudest guests, however, were all of the subjects in the kingdom. With the castle walls unattended, they had slipped the gates and gathered around outside the windows to watch the circus required just for the king to eat his dinner.

He pales at the sight, grasping desperately for his heart through his chest and crumpling to the floor. Reputation, after all, is crucial to the continuation of the monarchy.

a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight and abandon it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward.

#writing prompts #writing #writer #writers on tumblr #mysterymessmachine

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itertarot · 2 days ago

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Tarot | Future Spouse

What fantasies will your Future Spouse have about you when they lay their head on the pillow before falling asleep? +18

Close your eyes and take a deep breathe, if you don't feel drawn to any image it's okay, I'll be doing more piles soon. This ain't supposed to be an +18 reading so i won't dive deeper in their sexual thoughts now.

Pile One:

If they are a man:

Your future spouse will think of you every night as the moon rises in the sky. In the most intimate moments, before falling asleep, they will feel deeply emotional and connected to you. It's as if the silence of the night intensifies the emotional and spiritual bond you share. It wouldn't be surprising if they have an intuitive and sensitive Moon in their birth chart, under the moonlight their heart will allow itself to feel the love that overflows between the two of you. You are, without exaggeration, the biggest love of his life. The feelings they have for you are tender, fluid, calm, but also passionate, affectionate and intense. Your future spouse will think not only of you, but of the family you will build together. They will fantasise about simple details like making you coffee just to see you smile (and they love your smile), or tucking you in with a blanket on cold nights and watching you sleep with a deep sense of gratitude. They will take care of you, making sure you are warm, fed and happy. Every gesture, big or small, will be filled with meaning and etched in their minds and hearts. But this relationship is not all about affection and tenderness. Your future husband will be skilled (especially in their hands if you get me) and attentive, both emotionally and physically. He will have a touch that will make you discover pleasures you never knew were possible. He will be curious and devoted, always looking for new ways to bring you to your climax, like an explorer in search of hidden treasures. They will want to be the best for you, the only one who can fully satisfy you, like a magician who knows all the secrets of your body and soul, imagining they put their hands all over you especially you clitoris and vulva.

If they are a woman:

Your future wife will be a deeply romantic and family-orientated woman, possibly fitting the profile of a tradwife. She is highly intuitive and gifted with spiritual qualities, probably brought up in a religious environment which has made her deeply attached to values such as chastity. It's possible she's a virgin, saving herself for the person she considers chosen to share her life with and explore the mysteries of pleasure together. But being so reserved and modest made her fantasies revolve around finding someone to take her on this journey of discovery, someone to show her how far the body and soul can go in terms of intimacy and connection. She wants someone to "corrupt" her in a loving way, to guide her like a puppet, but with care and respect, transforming her into a freer, more submissive version of herself. In her fantasies she imagines a partner who has complete control over her, someone who holds her firmly but with skilful and gentle hands. In this scenario, you are the person she has chosen to be her guide, the one who will teach her what true pleasure and deep intimacy feel like.

But don't be mistaken: although there is a strong element of submission in her fantasies, this is mainly due to her inexperience and her desire to break free from the chastity that has always protected her. Your future wife is above all a romantic. She is sensitive, both emotionally and physically, and may be vulnerable to pain. It is therefore essential that you are gentle, patient and attentive to her needs. She will fantasise about how great amd skilful you're in bed.

Pile Two:

If they are a man:

Your future spouse has an intense and exhausting routine, with days filled with tasks and responsibilities. When they finally come home and lay their head on the pillow, their greatest desire is to rest and soothe their aching body after a long day. They are not the type to live in a world of imagination but rather someone practical who prefers action over dreaming. However, when they allow themselves to dive into thoughts about you, even if rarely, their reflections revolve around when things will change, when your lives will finally find peace and stability. They long for the day when you can live together as a family, in harmony and tranquility. Your future spouse works to the point of exhaustion, not just out of obligation but because they want to feel worthy of you. They want to offer you a stable and comfortable life, proving that they are capable of providing and taking care of you. Their fantasies, as simple as they may be, are centered around proving themselves deserving of your love and earning your recognition. They imagine the moment when they will finally have the courage to approach you, especially because, in their thoughts, you are always surrounded by people, as if you were someone admirable and unattainable. They find you incredibly beautiful and feel inspired by your presence.

When it comes to intimacy, your future spouse may have an attraction to spontaneous and passionate moments. They fantasize, for example, about taking you home and, after a goodbye kiss, things heating up so much that you end up giving in to desire in the car. The idea of having your body so close to theirs in such a tight and private space excites them, creating a feeling of unique and intense connection. They also have a fantasy of having sex in the beach, something about the sand on your body, the sound of the sea and open landscape is very exciting for your future spouse, they also love the smell of your body after spending the day on the beach.

If they are a woman:

The fantasy of your future wife revolves around you being the person who will rescue her from the exhausting and draining life she currently leads. She dreams of the moment when you will take the initiative, stepping in to take control of the situation and approaching her with sincere and captivating charm. In her thoughts, she imagines the family you will build together, the cozy home you will share, and the financial stability you will achieve as a team. To her, you are the right person, the one she wants to marry and share a full, happy life with. However, her current reality is quite harsh. She is exhausted, working tirelessly and feeling like the "Cinderella" of her own story, a modern version of Cinderella, trapped in a routine that brings her no fulfillment. The constant fatigue prevents her from diving deeply into romantic thoughts or sexual fantasies, as she barely has time to rest. Despite this, she can’t help but look at you during the day, seeking your presence as a refuge, even from afar. Your proximity makes her nervous but also excited, as if you were a beacon of hope amidst her draining routine. She wants to feel special, cared for, and, above all, safe by your side. And when you finally come closer to her, she will be ready to give you not only her heart but her efforts and dreams.

Pile three:

If they are a man:

You, my dear, are the "damsel" your future spouse dreams of rescuing, but with an important detail: you are no helpless princess. He fantasizes about being the knight in shining armor, the one who enters the tower to save the beautiful, seemingly vulnerable damsel. This is, without exaggeration, the image he creates in his mind. However, he knows very well that you don’t need saving. In fact, he sees you as an extremely independent, self-assured woman, completely capable of handling everything on your own. In a way, you even intimidate him. Your future husband sees you as the "queen bee," the most beautiful, the most admirable, always surrounded by friends and admirers. There's even a song that fits perfectly called Miss Independent by Ne-Yo. You are so confident, radiant, and self-sufficient that he creates scenarios in his head where he can prove himself useful, just to earn a bit of your attention. He wants to be your Prince Charming, the one who shows you that, with him, you can relax and let your guard down. He wants to prove that, if needed, he’ll be there to take care of you. But deep down, he deeply admires the strong, independent woman you are, and that’s one of the reasons he feels so drawn to you.

When it comes to sexual fantasies, he imagines you giving yourself to him as a reward for being your hero. However, he doesn’t delve too deeply into these thoughts because there’s a great deal of respect and admiration involved. He spends more time imagining what it would be like to feel your body even before removing your clothes, or what your kiss might taste like. Kisses, by the way, are a recurring theme in his fantasies, he catches himself thinking about how it would feel to touch your lips, to feel your breath close to his. But because he sees you as a princess, he struggles to take these thoughts to a "dirtier" or more obscene place. To him, you are someone to be adored, not just desired.

If they are a woman:

In the fantasy of your future wife, she sees herself as a powerful queen, the ruler of her own kingdom. She is independent, confident, and has everything she desires in life, except for one thing: a bold and charming knight, and that knight is you. She sees you as someone full of energy, sociable, courageous, and with an irresistible sense of humor. Your daring and boldness deeply attract her, and she admires the way you naturally charm everyone around you. In her fantasies, you win her over with your smooth lines and magnetic presence. She imagines what your scent must be like, how your body feels after a day of activities, and what you look like beneath your clothes. And yes, she will notice that you’re in great shape ( it doesn't matter if you don't see yourself as hot, she will for sure), it will only fascinate her even more. She fantasizes about the two of you going out together, attending a party, starting to drink and dance until the chemistry between you becomes irresistible. At the peak of sexual tension, she imagines that you won’t be able to control yourselves anymore and will need to find a quick, secluded place to finally give in to the desire that burns between you.

She has a very high sex drive, and her fantasies involve many passionate scenes in risky or unusual places, where the thrill of being caught only heightens the excitement. She also fantasizes about the size of your penis (if you have one), imagining what it would feel like to have you inside her. Moaning in your ear is something she would love to do, using her voice to make you even more aroused and connected to her. She wants you to be the knight who challenges and conquers her, but also the one who makes her feel safe and desired. Deep down, she knows that by your side, she can be both the powerful queen and the woman who surrenders completely to the pleasure and passion you share, but don't be fooled she don't like to give up her control.

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orangecamillestyles · 3 days ago

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Lan Wangji was surprised when he heard Wei Wuxian playing their song on his flute in Mo Xuanyu body. Then immediately happy because he realized that obviously this means that Wei Wuxian has come back because no one else has heard him play this song before. Then immediately gets angry because why is Wei Wuxian playing their song for Wen Ning, so he immediately stops Wei Wuxian from playing. Then he reluctantly lets Wei Wuxian play so that Wen Ning can get away and vows to himself that he won’t lose Wei Wuxian again. But no one there knows the range of emotions that he just went through because his face doesn’t change and only Lan Xichen would have been able to tell.

#lan wangji #lan zhan #mao dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wei wuxian #wei ying #danmei

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hazydoe · 2 days ago

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Buffalo 66

Warning +18 only kidnapping, non-consensual situations,sexual content,emotional manipulation,sex lol,extortion, jail,daddy kink , age-gap.

Note:I was inspired by Buffalo 66, it's one of my favorite movies, and one of the ones I talk about the most in my classes as a film student n Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance if I make a mistake

Joel wasn’t good with words. He never had been. But now, more than ever, he needed someone—and above all, he needed money to start over. And there you were, at the wrong time, or perhaps the right one. He saw you leaving the store, wearing that light blue dress and carrying a brown paper bag in your hand, a faint smile on your lips. He didn’t know why he chose you. Maybe it was because you seemed kind, or maybe because you were the first person he saw. It didn’t matter. Joel needed something, someone, and you were there.

He approached you with quick steps, his breathing uneven from the anxiety consuming him. He didn’t have a weapon, not even a convincing threat. All he had were his clumsy, desperate words.

“I need you to come with me,” he said, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

You stopped, looking at him with a mix of surprise and fear. Your eyes widened slightly, and you took a step back, clutching the bag to your chest like a shield.

“What? No, I’m not going with you,” you said, your voice trembling but firm.

Joel felt a knot in his stomach. He hadn’t expected you to resist. He hadn’t thought about that. But he couldn’t give up. Not now. He had just gotten out of prison, and he needed money.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I just need… I need you to come with me. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Your eyes scrutinized him, searching for any sign of a lie, of danger. Joel didn’t know what you were seeing, but he hoped it was something that would make you change your mind. For a moment, he thought you’d leave, that you’d scream for help or just run away. But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed there, looking at him, as if you were trying to understand him.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice soft but cautious. “Why me?”

Joel didn’t have a good answer. He didn’t have any answer, really. He just knew he couldn’t be alone. Not again.

“Because… because I don’t have anyone else, and I need something,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

There was an uncomfortable silence as you studied him. Joel didn’t know what you were thinking, but he was sure you’d leave, that you’d decide it wasn’t worth risking yourself for a stranger. But you didn’t. Instead, you nodded slowly, as if you’d decided to give him a chance.

“I don’t have money,” you said. “I work as a waitress and barely make ends meet.” Joel’s anxiety spiked—it was worse than kidnapping a defenseless girl, kidnapping her and getting nothing in return.

Joel nodded, thinking of the quickest solution: getting rid of you or finding some way to profit from you. He didn’t know if you were incredibly brave or just naive, but it didn’t matter. He led you to his car, an old sedan that smelled like cigarettes and desperation. He didn’t say a word as he drove, his hands gripping the wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him sane. You didn’t speak either, but you didn’t seem comfortable. You sat there, staring out the window, your hands clenched in your lap, as if you were ready to bolt at any moment.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked, breaking the silence.

“To a motel,” Joel replied evasively. “I just… need a place to think.”

It wasn’t an answer, but you didn’t press further. Instead, you leaned back in the seat, as if trying to calm yourself. Joel couldn’t understand you. Why weren’t you screaming? Why weren’t you trying to escape? It was as if you’d decided to trust him, even if just a little.

They arrived at the motel, a cheap, rundown place on the outskirts of the city. Joel parked the car and looked at you, as if expecting you to resist again. But you simply got out of the car and followed him to the room, a mix of fear and determination in your eyes.

The room was as depressing as he was: an unmade bed, a flickering lamp, and a musty smell that clung to the air. Joel sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face. He didn’t know what to do now. He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t planned anything.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked, standing near the door, as if ready to run at any moment.

Joel didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, the desperation consuming him, the need to have someone, anyone, by his side.

“I needed someone,” he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. “And you were there.”

There was another silence, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if both of you understood that this didn’t make sense, but it didn’t matter. Joel looked at you, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than emptiness.

“What now?” you asked, a mix of fear and curiosity in your voice.

Joel thought for a moment before speaking. “Do you have family?” he asked.

“They live outside the city and don’t have much money. They live off government checks,” you replied.

Joel stood up in frustration. It had all been for nothing. He could go back to prison for kidnapping a girl, even if only for a short time.

You approached him slowly, as if trying not to scare him. Joel looked at you, confused but grateful. He didn’t know what you were doing, but he didn’t want you to stop. You sat on the bed, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You were just there, in silence, sharing the weight of the world.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Joel murmured, his voice breaking. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, his patience wearing thin.

“Yes, but I don’t think he’d pay much for me,” you replied, placing a hand on his.

Joel looked at your hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. But then, slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours. His hand was cold, but there was a spark of warmth in his touch, as if something in him was still alive.

“Call him,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you leaned closer to him, until your lips met his in a soft but meaningful kiss. Joel didn’t know if this was real, if you were real, but in that moment, he didn’t care. Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone. And that was enough.

Joel couldn’t believe what he was about to do. The line between desperation and madness had blurred completely, and now, there you were, sitting on the motel bed, phone in hand, with your boyfriend on the other end of the line. He watched you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of guilt and desire, as he approached slowly, like a predator who knew he had his prey exactly where he wanted it.

“Tell him I have you,” Joel whispered, his voice rough but laced with an intensity that made you shiver. “Tell him if he wants to see you again, he’ll have to pay.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, Joel thought you might refuse. But then, you nodded slowly, bringing the phone to your ear. Your hands trembled slightly as you dialed the number, and Joel couldn’t help but notice how you bit your lower lip, a gesture that betrayed your nervousness.

“Hi,” you said into the phone, your voice soft but clear. “It’s me. I’m… I’m okay, but I need you to do something for me.”

Joel moved closer, his hands finding your waist as you spoke to your boyfriend. You felt your body tense under his touch, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kept talking, your voice trembling but firm.

“Yes, he wants money,” you continued, your eyes fixed on Joel. “I don’t know how much, but… please, do it. I don’t want him to hurt me.”

Joel felt a knot in his stomach as he heard your words, but he didn’t stop. His hands slid over your body, exploring every curve with a mix of desire and possessiveness. He looked at you, searching for some sign of rejection, but he didn’t find it. Instead, he saw something in your eyes that made him keep going: a surrender, an acceptance of what was about to happen.

“Tell him how much,” Joel murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you spoke. “Tell him he has an hour.”

Your words faltered slightly as Joel began to slide his hands under your dress, his fingers finding the soft skin of your thighs. You felt your breathing quicken, your body responding to his touch despite the situation. Joel wasn’t giving you a choice, but you didn’t seem to want to stop him either.

“Yes, one hour,” you repeated into the phone, your voice now more shaky. “Please, hurry.”

When you hung up the phone, Joel didn’t give you time to think. His lips found yours in a slow but passionate kiss, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if they were territories to conquer. You let yourself go, your own hands finding his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Don’t resist,” Joel murmured, his voice heavy with desire. “You know you don’t want to.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you gave in to the sensation, to the intensity of the moment. Joel explored you with his hands, every touch filled with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your soft moans urged him on, driving him to lose himself in you, in the feeling that, for a moment, he wasn’t alone.

Joel sat near the head of the bed, his gaze lifting to meet yours. He looked at you the way a hunter looks at his prey. “Take off that dress,” he said, watching you intently.

You pulled at the sleeves of your light blue dress and slowly slid it down, stepping out of your silver ballet flats. All you had on was a simple blue lingerie set, a gift from your boyfriend for Valentine’s Day.

“Come here, doll. Sit on daddy’s lap,” he said. You moved closer and sat on his lap, feeling how hard he was beneath you.

He grabbed your waist and unhooked your bra, cupping your breasts in his rough hands. “Your breasts are beautiful, so soft. Your boyfriend’s an idiot. He’s paying for me to fuck you, and here you are, taking off the dress and lingerie he probably gave you for Valentine’s Day.”

He slid your panties off, and you unzipped his worn-out jeans. He pulled down his boxers, and you saw his hard member—it was big and thick. You’d never been with anyone but your boyfriend.

“Ride me, sweetheart,” he said, noticing your hesitation. “Come on, do it, baby. Ride me.”

You climbed onto him, feeling the coarse hair on his legs and his rough hands gripping your waist.

You moved on him, your eyes locked on his face—weathered by time and age, his beard, every detail of him. You could see the pleasure in his expression. He had chosen you. He could have kidnapped any other girl, but he chose you. (I don’t know why, but this made me laugh.)

You moved as best as you could, his size making it challenging. You could feel your breaths quickening.

“Come on, baby, I know you can do better than that. I haven’t been bad to you. I think I deserve it,” Joel said, his words only motivating you to move more. He watched you from below, occasionally spanking you and smiling.

You let out a loud moan of pleasure as you rode him more recklessly. After a moment, you felt him grip your waist tightly and release inside you.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy. You made me come so good,” Joel said as he lifted you off him. His seed dripped out of you.

Joel held you, his strong arms wrapping around you in an embrace that seemed to say more than his words ever could. He didn’t know how he had gotten to this point, but in that moment, he didn’t care. Because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, his voice heavy with vulnerability. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, curling up against him. “I’m here.”

But reality soon caught up with them. The phone rang, and Joel knew it was time to collect his reward. He dressed quickly, avoiding your gaze as he left the room. He didn’t want to see you go, but he knew he had no other choice.

When he returned, money in hand, he found you sitting on the bed, looking at him with those eyes that seemed to see him for who he truly was: a broken man, lost in his own despair.

“What are you going to do now?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern.

Joel didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t have a plan, no place to go. But for the first time in a long time, he felt that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, sitting down beside you.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you took his hand and squeezed it firmly, as if you were trying to tell him that, despite everything, he wasn’t alone.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #buffalo 66

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darinawrites · 2 days ago

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♧|Aib characters protecting you in lights out|♧

Characters: Kuina, Arisu, Chishiya, Ann, Niragi

A/n: Since the Aib fandom on tt is only talking about how they would be in squid game, I thought this would be interesting. Also, I lost the longer version of this and cried at the loss of the 1.7k words I wrote 💔 I'm too sleep deprived for all of this, I just want my sleep man I also can't tag Ann without my post glitching out for some reason. Had to sit here 40 minutes trying to decipher what I did wrong with the tags.

┆彡Chishiya

He would be prepared, immediately figuring out what the game is trying to provoke and would make a plan

He knows physical strength is something he lacks in, so he'll try and make weapons out of everything. Give him toilet paper and he'll somehow make it explosive. Don't test this mans concerning knowledge of weapons.

While telling you his plan, he'd try and convince himself it's for his own greed. That you fight well and could even be a potential sacrifice, but he knows it isn't true. He knows there's a sincere affection beneath his actions. He's confident in his plans, he doesn't need you as backup. Especially since it would hold him back, your scrupulous personality picking fights with ever other person, making you a target. Yet the words still flew out of his mouth

Oh, love. How much he loathed how it made him act against what he believes. How your wellbeing is in his thoughts much more than he'd like

But he won't ever tell you his worry, not at all. He'd hide it behind the apathetic personality he built up.

Overall, he would protect you in a way you wouldn't notice, but put his thoughts at peace

"Chishiya, how the fuck..." you were astonished at what he could make with such little resources. A makeshift knife shining on his hand.

"For what do you need that anyways? I thought your confident in your plans, not the genius you thought you were?" you teased, earning yourself a small, barely noticeable grin on his face.

"It's good to have a weapon, regardless of the fight happening today. Besides, with all the enemies you have it wouldn't be so bad to have a little help." his words made you gasp loudly and dramatically. Staring at him with an over exaggerated shock on your face.

"You really think I can't beat their asses, Chishiya? You think so low of me." clutching your heart as if its broken, your words flowing out with fake emotion.

"Oh, I would never." he said with as much emotion he could muster to imitate your disappointed voice. Quickly hiding his weapon as he saw the guards come with breakfast.

"You better! Or else I'll kick your ass too." you giggled, standing up to get food that will only last for a few hours before hunger rumbles in your stomach again. But you'll take everything you can.

┆彡Kuina

While she wouldn't notice immediately what the game is trying to do, she surely will notice what the O players plan to do. She isn't stupid and it wouldn't surprise her once she realizes. Noticing how petulant people around her are.

She wouldn't worry lots though and not put much thought in what she'd do when it happens. She can easily beat all the inexperienced players around her, she's strong and has nothing to worry about.

Kuina wouldn't be an outstanding target either. She's amiable, but also reckless. Earning respect of some and being looked down by others. But you? You aren't a target, you're a victim. Your closed in personality earning yourself to be pushed around by others. Kuina is always there to protect you though, whether that be with words or her fist.

And did I mention what an absolute sweetheart she is? She would always want you to be near her, near enough to protect you. You can count on her to make you feel safe

The flashing of the lights made you panic, losing sight of Kuina as screams emerged around you. You remember her warning you of this, of the bloodlust. The sight around making you want to throw up.

You know you were weak, a target to many. Your breaths were irregular as you frantically looked around for Kuina, her presence seemingly nowhere to be seen around you.

Yet as you tried to call out for her, your weight was suddenly dropped as you made a thud sound. Looking up, you noticed the person who pushed you. A brute who also partook in 'bullying' you.

The smirk he gave you made you nauseous, a smirk that held power over you. You didn't even fight back, no, you gave up. Knowing what as about to come, you closed your eyes and simply waited for the impact.

But instead of pain ringing trough your body, a loud smack and groan could be heard. As you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see Kuina skillfully beat up the man before pulling you up and to a corner.

It happened so fast, your brain barely processing what was going on as you were pulled away from the fight. It's only once you had a moment to take a breath did you speak.

"Wow, I didn't know you could fight so well." you said. She didn't fight just to fight like the others, her moves were thought out. It was impressive and you were immensely grateful for her.

"Well, I'm not just all looks. Even if I am hot." she replied sarcastically, a trait you've always admired and loved about her. The screams in the background nearly forgotten as you laughed together.

┆彡Niragi

Niragi would know a fight will be starting because he's the one to initiate it. Planning to do so with his side, not to win the vote tomorrow but simply for fun. It gives him a sense of pride and superiority when hurting others, he loves it.

What he wouldn't love though is people hurting you. He'll make sure to make it clear to anyone what will happen if they dare to do so. And they definitely did see it. His tracksuit all bloodied up after starting a fight in the bathroom with a guy who got closs to you.

Safe to say no one will be near you

Niragi is also the type to worry, but hide it. He couldn't let anyone see such a side of him, who knows what they'll think. He will be denial, trust me. Denying his care for you

Well, sure. Maybe he'll beat up any guy that comes near you. Maybe he told you to hide tonight, even if he knows no one will come near you. Maybe he'd give you weapons, but that definitely doesn't mean he cares. Not at all.

The delicious flavours of kimbap filled your mouth, a small yet filling meal. Something proper to eat after they basically starved you for days.

The satiating of your stomach, the rumbling quieting down. It felt so good, enjoying yourself in the little blissful moment you had.

That was until a familiar voice called out for you, bringing your focus away from the food. You silently groaned at the voice. The figure now entering the corner of your eyesight.

"What do you want now, Niragi" you asked him, now standing in front of you. Does the universe really hate you that much to ruin every small nice thing you have?

He gave you a small smirk at your frustration before handing you a fork. "Take this and keep it with you" he said with no explanation.

"The hell, you don't need a fork to eat kimbap. Where did you even get this??"

"It's to attack others, dumbass." he rolled his eyes. And it pleasantly surprised you that he cared over something like that.

"Gee, since when did you care about something like safety?" you giggled as you teased, but instead of a smirk or a returning choice of words he was reacted unusual.

"Don't push it and don't fuck with me. Just keep it with you." he said much too loud for your liking, a few heads turning to look at you both.

"Alright, goodness." you murmured more of so to yourself, but a tinge of happiness rang trough your body at his gesture. And when he finally left you alone, you let a smile slip. If only you could see him more often like this.

┆彡Ann

She immediately noticed the games intent. It's simply in her nature, she's observant and watches everything with meticulous care to the details. It's stupid to think he wouldn't notice. She'd tell you her observations and set out a plan together

And it is the most detailed yet somehow simplest plan.

Ann wouldn't be an outstanding target. She only surrounds herself with people who are trustworthy, not letting other players have a chance to know her much. She sees everything, she watches everytime she can so she knows a lot about other people and who to trust.

In that area she protects you, from bad influence. Your bubbly personality loves to socialize, so she'll always keep eyes on who you're being friendly with.

It felt like an eternity before the flickering of the lights stopped and the guards came back to shoot the ceiling. You flinched just as much as your body allowed you to before the pain came back in.

You should have paid more attention. You should have taken the warnings of Ann seriously. Maybe then you wouldn't be leaning against a wall with a big gash on your arm, a mark of betrayal. You felt so stupid to have trusted them, resulting in you loosing Ann and being attacked.

The thoughts clouding your mind got stopped for a moment as you heard your name being called, looking up to meet her gaze. Hand clutching your other arm as it bleed trough.

She didn't let a word out, calmly grabbing her green jacket to properly care for your wounds, her limited medical experience being able to do so.

"It'll hurt, be ready." she hummed, tying the tracksuit around the wound securely, staying very calm while doing so as you groaned out at the sharp tug of the pain.

"I'm sorry, Ann.." you hushed out once she was finished, a guilty look plastered on your face.

"Mhh. Don't be so reckless next time, alright?" she answered, making you nod in agreement as you gave her a small smile. Clinging onto her as the wound still stung, and she allowed you to. Even with not being fond of affection so publicly, she simply stayed silent with a small tug of a smile on her face.

How glad you were to have her in such a place.

┆彡Arisu

Arisu is smart and can see trough the hearts of others, of course he'd notice the voting splitting the people. He's quick witted and would come up with a sensible plan immediately

But you'd have to constantly tell him to not worry so much. He can only suppress his anxiety when it tense situations, but knowing that the fight will break out days before it actually did simply gives him time to overthink. He wouldn't dare to think what would happen if he did something wrong and the cause would be your death. You're practically his will to live, he can't continue without him.

So, he'll try to keep you close to him. He'd be awkward about it and, of course, tries to know you're comfortable with. But he'd prefer for you to stay close

He'd protect you with his greatest strength, his intelligence. That man is lanky and wouldn't be the best fighter to protect you physical, but if he had to he would.

"Can you believe she said that. You just had to be there, it was such a cool fight." you rambled on and on about something you saw today, ranting to skip the time in this boring and ruthless place. It always felt nice to use your voice heavily, and you were grateful that Arisu always let you.

But as you looked up, you saw him paying you almost no attention. His eyes staring into the abyss, his thoughts occupying every sense in his body. And you immediately knew what was going on.

"Hey, Arisu. Is everything alright, something worrying you?" you asked, shifting his attention over to you as his face morphs into an apologetic one.

He ignored your question and started to incessantly apologize for not hearing you out, frustration pulling on your furrowed eyebrows as you tried to stop him.

"Arisu!" you managed stop him "Let me reword my sentence. Stop worrying so much about the plan." the words lingered in the air as you let it sink in, Arisu softening his features as he looked at you. Worry still there, but not as immense before your words.

"10 minutes until the lights go off!" the familiar yet mysterious voice rang again trough the speaker.

You smiled, softly locking your hands together as you held his tightly. Red slightly tainted his cheeks, something so small that you missed it as you simply enjoyed it while Arisu was nervous with this much contact.

"It's almost time, come on, let's go. We'll be fine" you tugged on his hand. You couldn't even deny your own anxiety now bubbling inside, standing upt to get ready. But as you saw Arisu beside you, alive and well, you knew everything will be alright. You trust him, even if he doesn't trust himself.

#aib chishiya #arisu ryohei #chishiya shuntaro #kuina hikari #kuina alice in borderland #kuina x reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x you #aib #shuntaro chishiya #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #aib niragi #arisu x reader

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crossfandomskylines · 2 days ago

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Anywhere But Here

Summary: A Valentine's Day singles event was the last place you wanted to be until an unexpected conversation with Bradley Bradshaw turned the night into something else entirely. What started as shared sarcasm and an easy connection quickly became something deeper. And by the time the night was over you realized maybe fate had other plans after all.

Warnings: 18+. Suggestive Content (some nudity, heavy making out, implied smut but none directly), Alcohol Consumption, Mild Language.

Word Count: 4,389

Author's Note: Still struggling with a little bit of writer's block because of my headspace but managed to write this over the past few days and I think it turned out okay. This is my first time writing for Bradley so I'd love any feedback you guys have! I'm also still a little rough around the edges when it comes to writing smut so I'm sorry if that part isn't good. Hope you enjoy xx

You should have known better than to let your friends talk you into this. The dim lighting, the too loud music, the room full of strangers who all seemed to have the same agenda. It was everything you hated about Valentine’s Day wrapped into one overcrowded venue.

Somewhere across the room your friends were probably watching and feeling satisfied that they’d successfully dragged you out, but they weren’t the ones stuck making small talk with men who either wanted a rebound, a hookup, or a therapist.

You sighed as you swirled the cheap cocktail in your glass as the third guy of the night launched into a monologue about his “complicated” relationship with his ex.

“Sounds rough,” you said nodding absently.

“Right? And she just doesn’t get that I need space,” he continued, leaning in like you were supposed to be impressed by his emotional unavailability.

You were about to excuse yourself and find your friends when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"Is this seat taken?" Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was easy, casual, like you hadn’t just been trapped in a one-sided conversation about someone’s divorce for the last fifteen minutes. You blinked in surprise, looking up to find Bradley standing beside you. You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you at his arrival, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Bradley,” you said with a chuckle, knowing full well he’d been watching from the corner of the room.

You’d always known of Bradley. He was part of the same circle of friends though you’d never really talked outside of the occasional greeting or passing comment at group events. He was always nice enough, just not someone you ever felt a need to connect with more deeply.

He raised an eyebrow at the guy you were talking to, still unaware of his impending rescue. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” Bradley asked, looking at you with an easy grin.

The guy hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between you and Bradley before he finally nodded, mumbling something about catching up with some people. Bradley’s lips twitched in amusement as he pulled the barstool out and took a seat next to you, making it clear he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

As the guy shuffled away, Bradley glanced at you and whispered, “I’ve got to hand it to you, you were handling that a lot better than I would have. I’d have run for the hills by now.” His grin was teasing, but there was a warmth in his eyes, an unspoken understanding.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It wasn’t that bad, I just didn’t know how to get out of the conversation without being rude.”

Bradley leaned back, getting comfortable. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I was nearby. My friends usually do a pretty bad job of saving me from stuff like that. But if it helps, I’m pretty good at the rescue mission.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a smirk. “I’m sure you are. But I’m guessing Jake and Mickey had something to do with this little rescue operation?”

Bradley chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Guilty as charged. They’ve been trying to convince me to get out here all night. Apparently, they think I’m a really good wingman.” He grinned, clearly not taking the comment too seriously. “But between you and me, I’m just here for the free drinks.”

“Free drinks? I think I missed that memo?”

Bradley grinned as he motioned towards where Jake was across the room. “His price for dragging me out tonight was picking up my tab.”

Bradley leaned against the bar, nodding toward your empty glass. “Speaking of…need a refill?”

You hesitated, but he shrugged, adding, “Promise I won’t try to trauma-dump on you.”

That earned him a small smirk. “Well, in that case… sure.”

He flagged down the bartender, ordering for you without making a big deal of it. As you waited, you glanced around the room at the couples awkwardly chatting, the guys clearly scanning for their next target, the women trying to seem interested but mostly looking bored.

“This might be the worst Valentine’s Day event in existence,” you muttered.

Bradley let out a low chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

You turned back to him, arching a brow. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit half these people don’t even want to be here.”

He shrugged, smirking. “That includes us, doesn’t it?”

You laughed. “Fair point.”

The bartender slid your drink across the bar, and you murmured a thanks before turning back to Bradley. Somehow, standing next to him felt…easy.

“So, what were you doing before you got roped into this disaster?” he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

You shrugged. “Had plans to drink wine, eat chocolate, and watch literally anything that wasn’t romance related. But my friends staged an intervention.”

Bradley smirked. “Tragic. What were you gonna watch?”

“Probably a concert film. You know, something that really captures the Valentine’s Day spirit.”

His grin widened. “Concert film, huh? What band?”

You lit up, immediately launching into a mini rant about your favorite band. You talked about their best albums, the time you saw them live, how their early work was underrated but their newer stuff still held up.

And Bradley listened. Not in the way people do when they’re just waiting for their turn to talk, but in a way that made it clear he was actually interested. He nodded along, grinning at your enthusiasm, occasionally asking a question or making a comment that proved he was keeping up.

At some point the noise of the bar faded into the background. The awkwardness of the event, the forced conversations, the reason you even came here in the first place…it all disappeared. It was just you and Bradley talking like this was the most natural thing in the world.

And you kind of liked it.

The DJ must have had a cruel sense of humor because without warning the music shifted from upbeat pop to something softer. Something that clearly signaled it was time for couples to pair off.

Around the room, people hesitated before awkwardly stepping closer to their dates or scanning for someone to dance with. You weren’t planning on participating until you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was him. The guy Bradley had saved you from earlier. He was lingering near the bar, glancing in your direction like he was debating coming over for round two.

You groaned under your breath. Bradley must have followed your gaze because he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. “Uh oh. I think your ex therapy patient wants a second session.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t even joke.”

His lips twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. Then after a beat he nudged you with his elbow. “We could always pretend to be together. Save you from another deep dive into his complicated emotions.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, we could, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. “I mean I’d hate to see you suffer.”

You rolled your eyes but honestly? The idea didn’t sound half bad. Better than standing here pretending not to notice your former conversation partner lurking nearby.

“…Fine,” you sighed.

His grin was instant like he’d known you’d agree. Without another word he reached for your hand, his fingers warm as they laced easily through yours. Before you could process that he was already tugging you toward the dance floor.

“Smooth,” you muttered as you followed.

He glanced back smirking. “I have my moments.”

You stopped near the edge of the dance floor where other couples had already started swaying to the music. Bradley turned to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and something softer, unreadable.

“Alright,” he said, his voice teasing but gentle as he placed one hand at your waist. “Try not to fall in love with me.”

You snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Dancing with Bradley was… easy. You had expected it to be awkward and stiff like the kind of slow dances you endured at high school prom. But he moved with an effortless confidence, his hand steady at your waist, his grip firm but not overbearing.

“So,” he said, his voice warm and low over the music, “how am I doing so far? Best fake Valentine’s date you’ve ever had?”

You smirked. “I don’t know. The bar’s pretty low. But I’ll give you points for effort.”

Bradley let out a soft chuckle, his thumb absently tracing small, slow circles where it rested against your waist. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it, but you noticed. And suddenly, the room felt just a little warmer.

The first song came to an end, and for a second, you thought about stepping back, about making some teasing remark and putting space between you. But before you could, the opening chords of a new song filled the air. A song from your favorite band. Your favorite song.

Your eyes widened. “No way.”

Bradley’s mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “What are the odds?”

You looked up at him, suspicious. “You didn’t request this, did you?”

He shook his head, smirking. “Nope. But now that it’s playing, it’d be wrong not to keep dancing.”

Before you could argue—not that you really wanted to—he pulled you back in.

And this time, you let yourself sink into it.

Somewhere between the first verse and the chorus, the space between you disappeared. His hands settled more firmly at your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your shirt. Without really thinking about it, your arms slid up, looping around his neck.

You felt him exhale, a quiet little laugh against your temple. “See? You’re having fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Don’t let it go to your head, Rooster.”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Too late.”

The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed yours with every slow step, the way his voice curled around your name when he murmured it just loud enough for you to hear. It all felt so natural and easy, like you’d been dancing with him forever instead of just minutes.

And when he made a dry teasing comment about one of the couples beside you, something about their awkward middle school dance stance you tipped your head back and laughed.

The sound must have done something to him because his hold on you tightened, just slightly. Just enough that you felt it. Just enough that you didn’t want to let go.

The song drifted into its final chords, but neither of you stepped away immediately. You were still close. Closer than you probably should have been considering this whole thing had started as an excuse to avoid bad small talk.

Bradley was looking at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he knew you weren’t in a hurry to move either. But then the DJ switched back to something obnoxiously upbeat, and the spell broke.

Bradley exhaled, glancing around before leaning down slightly, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “Alright. You wanna get out of here?”

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you trying to take me home?”

His smirk widened. “Would it work?”

You scoffed, even as heat curled in your stomach. “Not a chance.”

He chuckled. “Good to know.” Then, with an easy shrug, he added, “I was thinking we could go do something actually fun.”

You tilted your head. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. But I promise it’ll be better than this disaster.” He gestured around the bar where people were still fumbling their way through awkward conversations and stilted dances.

You eyed him, considering. “You do realize this is how horror movies start, right? Some girl follows a charming guy into the night, never to be seen again.”

Bradley placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me.”

You bit back a grin. “Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “…Are you serious?”

Bradley grinned. “Why not? We ditch this place, get some food, and actually enjoy the rest of the night.”

You should have said no. You should have come up with an excuse, played it safe, stuck to your original plan of going home alone.

But instead, you found yourself saying, “Alright, Bradshaw. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

His grin turned downright smug. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him take your hand anyway, following him toward the exit. Leaving behind the bad dates, the awkward glances, and the Valentine’s Day you thought you were going to have, and stepping into the one you never saw coming.

The bar door swung shut behind you, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat inside. You hadn’t realized how loud it was until now. It was so much easier to breathe out here.

Bradley, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, shot you a look. “Alright, I’m thinking pizza. And not some fancy, sit down place. I mean real pizza.”

You smirked. “Define real pizza.”

His eyes glinted. “Late night counter service, greasy but perfect pizza.”

“…Go on.”

“There’s a spot a few blocks from here. Open late, no frills, just damn good food.”

You pretended to think about it, though your stomach had already made the decision for you. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m never trusting you again.”

Bradley laughed, leading the way down the sidewalk. “That’s a lot of pressure, sweetheart.”

When you arrived after a short walk from the bar, the place was exactly as he’d described. A hole in the wall joint with neon signs buzzing faintly in the window and the unmistakable scent of fresh pizza wafting out the door.

Bradley let you step inside first, the warmth from the ovens immediately washing over you. The glass display case was lined with massive slices ready to grab and go.

“Alright,” he said scanning the selection. “You a toppings person, or are we keeping it classic?”

“Pepperoni,” you answered without hesitation.

His smile was approving. “Good choice.” He turned to the guy behind the counter. “Two slices of pepperoni, please.”

You arched a brow. “Two? What if I wanted two slices?”

Bradley gave you a look. “Trust me. You won’t want the second when you see the size of these.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A few minutes later, you were standing outside, each holding a massive, perfectly greasy slice, the warmth seeping into your fingers as you took your first bite.

You groaned. “Okay. Fine. You were right. This is really good pizza.”

Bradley grinned, chewing his own bite. “Told you.”

The street was quiet, save for the occasional car rolling by and the faint hum of city life in the distance. For a moment, you just stood there, eating in comfortable silence.

Then, Bradley wiped his fingers on a napkin and glanced over at you. “So.”

You swallowed your bite, eyeing him warily. “So.”

His smirk was lazy, unreadable. “Wanna head back to my place?”

You nearly choked. “Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”

Bradley laughed. “Not like that.” He gestured to the nearly empty street. “It’s still early. I figured we could keep hanging out…unless you’re dying to go home.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. It wasn’t that late, and you weren’t tired. And if you were being honest with yourself you didn’t really want to say goodnight yet.

“…Alright, Bradshaw,” you said, giving him a knowing look. And just like that, you found yourself following him into the night.

When you reached the curb, he gestured toward an old but well kept Bronco parked under the glow of a streetlamp. It suited him. It was rugged, classic, and also a little effortlessly cool.

You expected him to climb in first, but instead he reached for the passenger door, pulling it open.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously?”

Bradley just shrugged, stepping back to give you space. “What? You think I don’t have manners?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you as the door-opening type.”

His smirk was subtle but genuine. “Guess I like keeping you on your toes.”

Still eyeing him, you slid into the seat. The door shut with a solid thunk, and a moment later Bradley was rounding the hood and climbing in behind the wheel.

Bradley’s place was exactly what you would’ve expected. Laid back, a little old school, but effortlessly him. Warm lighting, a well-loved couch, a few framed photos on the walls, and a record player in the corner. It felt lived in, comfortable.

“You want a beer?” he asked as he tossed his keys onto the counter.

You nodded, stepping further inside. “Yeah, sure.”

Bradley grabbed two from the fridge, popping the caps off with practiced ease before handing one to you. You took a sip as he led you toward the couch, where he sank down with an easy sprawl.

You hesitated for half a second before sitting next to him, tucking your legs underneath you. The conversation picked up right where it had left off with music, movies, dumb things you’d both done as kids.

At some point you kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs out, your sock clad feet nudging his thigh. Bradley didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he absentmindedly rested a hand on your shin as he talked, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your jeans.

You should’ve noticed it earlier. That shift, that subtle change in the air. Because somewhere between the teasing and the laughter, something had settled in the space between you. Something quieter. Heavier. Bradley’s fingers stilled against your leg, his gaze flicking to yours.

You swallowed. “What?”

He shook his head, his voice softer now. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you both knew it. The air crackled, and before you could second guess it, you were shifting closer. Bradley’s hand slid up, palm skimming your knee before settling at your waist. His fingers curled there, warm and steady.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, he was right there. His breath fanned across your lips, his eyes locked onto yours, searching.

And then he kissed you. It was slow at first, just the soft press of his lips against yours, like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away and you kissed him back,he deepened it, his hand tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, threading into his hair, and he groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent heat curling through your stomach. By the time you finally broke apart, you were breathless.

Bradley rested his forehead against yours, his lips quirking. “So… I’m guessing you don’t regret leaving that singles event?”

You laughed, still catching your breath. “Not even a little bit.”

Bradley’s hands were still resting at your waist, warm and steady, as you hovered just inches from him. The air between you felt charged, humming with something unspoken but undeniable. You moved first, shifting onto your knees before slowly swinging a leg over his lap, settling yourself against him. Bradley inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their hold on you like he was still processing what was happening, like he needed a second to let himself feel you there.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, his hands twitching slightly against your hips.

You nodded, fingers trailing up the back of his neck as you leaned in. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth met yours again, deeper this time, the hesitancy from before fading as he pulled you closer, molding you against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a quiet groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands, large and warm, traced slow circles at your waist before slipping under your shirt. His palms pressed against your bare skin, mapping their way up your sides, his touch reverent like he was savoring every inch of you.

He paused, giving you a chance to stop him, but you weren’t going anywhere. You lifted your arms, silently telling him to keep going, and Bradley took his time easing your shirt up and over your head, his eyes flickering over your newly exposed skin. His fingers followed the path of his gaze, tracing along your ribs, your back, your shoulders.

“Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper, his lips moving with purpose as his hands roamed over you.

You shifted in his lap, pressing closer, and that was when something changed. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin like he suddenly couldn’t get enough. His kisses turned hungrier, his breath heavier as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until all you could do was melt into him.

You gasped as his mouth trailed along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, his lips and tongue leaving a heated path in their wake. His hands moved again, exploring more boldly now, and you arched into him, letting yourself feel everything. His touch, his warmth, the way he was unraveling right along with you.

Your fingers moved with growing urgency, skimming over Bradley’s shoulders as you tried to push off that damn ugly printed shirt. But the fabric bunched awkwardly at his arms, refusing to cooperate. Frustrated, you tugged harder, reaching for the undershirt beneath it too, wanting them both gone except now you were tangled in two layers of fabric, and nothing was coming off the way you wanted.

Bradley chuckled against your skin, his breath warm where his lips had been trailing along your collarbone.

“Impatient, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper laced in it too, something thick with amusement and want.

You huffed, still struggling. “If you’d stop wearing so many damn layers—”

He cut you off with another quiet laugh before leaning back slightly. “Here,” he murmured, his hands covering yours, steadying them. “Let me help you out, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flipped at the easy way the endearment rolled off his tongue, but before you could dwell on it, Bradley took control. He shrugged out of the over shirt first, letting it drop to the floor before crossing his arms to pull the undershirt over his head in one smooth motion.

And damn.

Your breath hitched as you finally took him in. His broad shoulders, toned chest, the soft trail of hair leading down his stomach. His dog tags rested against his skin, catching the low light of the room, and for a moment, you just stared.

Bradley smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Better?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, hands splaying against his bare chest as you kissed him again, slow and deep, making sure he felt exactly how much you appreciated the view.

Bradley groaned against your lips, his hands sliding back to your waist before gripping your hips firmly, grounding you against him. The kiss deepened, turning messier, more desperate, and when you rolled your hips just slightly, testing the friction, that was when he lost the last bit of his restraint.

His grip tightened, his breath shuddering against your mouth. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

You smirked. “Maybe I like the heat.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for half a second before he suddenly moved, flipping you onto your back on the couch in one swift motion.

You barely had time to gasp before he was hovering over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His lips found your neck again, his hands roaming over newly exposed skin, and suddenly, you weren’t the one in control anymore.

And you definitely didn’t mind.

Bradley’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, fingers grazing over your hips before settling at the waistband of your jeans. His eyes flicked up to yours, silently asking for permission. When you nodded, he made quick work of the button and zipper, his fingers brushing over your skin as he tugged them down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze raking over you, dark and unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. His voice was rougher now, lower, as he shook his head. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest at his words, at the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

Then, before you could think of a response, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to the base of your throat. His mouth was warm, his kisses slow and reverent as he made his way down, lingering at the delicate skin along your collarbone, then lower, teasing over your ribs before his hands found your thighs.

He shifted, lowering himself onto the floor in front of the couch, his large, rough palms pressing against your inner thighs as he spread them apart. The contrast between his calloused hands and the soft skin of your legs sent a shiver up your spine.

Bradley’s breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as his mouth trailed lower until it hovered just above the place you ached for him most. His grip on your thighs tightened, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin as if savoring the anticipation.

“Still with me?” he murmured, his voice husky, teasing.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers sinking into his thick curls, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “Bradley—”

His lips curved against your hipbone. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

A slow, unrelenting press of his mouth, a sound of satisfaction rumbling low in his throat as he pulled you closer, as your world narrowed to nothing but the feeling of him, the steady, torturous rhythm of his hands and lips unraveling you piece by piece.

The last coherent thought you had before everything melted into sensation was that you’d never look at him the same way again.

#Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader #Bradley Bradshaw x You #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x You

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 11 hours ago

Text

The Kitchen Window (pt. 5)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (vannie's been missing for weeks. when her savior returns her in a broken state, it's your turn to do the rescuing)

warnings - angst, violence, themes of animal abuse, slight nsfw

word count - 3.9k

READ PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - one - two - three - four

It's hard to come to terms with the way you feel about Raphael. When he's not around you physically, he's taking up your every waking thought. It's just so abnormal, the way your paths had crossed and led you to a point where every little thing you do, is in thought of him. To a point where you lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking of him, and the nights you get to see him, you come up with almost every excuse to have him stay at your window just a little longer.

Why was this so, so difficult? It was a complicated thing, the situation at hand. It should feel freeing, and light. But with the circumstances of you being a human and Raph being, well… Raph, it's stressing you out. Not even the fear of rejection, but what might happen if he’s reciprocating the same feelings. Where do you even go from there?

Raph’s hard to read. You can see the emotions always conflicting on his face, but what he’s thinking is a whole other deal. Even though he’s friendly, he’s closed off. Talking about things that are bothering him just isn’t something he does.

On top of this dilemma comes another issue that’s been eating at your insides.

Vannie’s missing.

The first day, you think nothing of it.

It’s been a long day at work, and she doesn’t come to greet you at the sound of an opening door or the shake of her food bowl. Maybe she’s hiding somewhere, under the couch or your dresser. But you’re surprised to see she hasn’t curled up in your bed with you when you wake up the next morning. Vannie always does that. Something could’ve spooked her, but was it so bad that she would hide in fear all night? You can’t find the time to look for her rushing out the door to open up shop.

After another day, is when you really get concerned. You practically flip the apartment inside out searching for your cat, opening cabinets, upturning the little furniture you own. All the while calling her name and shaking one of her favorite toys to coax her out. She doesn’t come. This was really, really bad. Had you left the window open? Did she slip out of the door when you were leaving for work one morning?

After you’ve given up on looking through your home, you turn to the few neighbors you have, knocking on their doors. All of them pitifully shake their heads and tell you they haven’t seen her. Most of them didn’t even know you owned an animal.

It’s an empty, hopeless feeling that’s breaking your heart. She was the only thing you had to come to after a tireless day of work. Every day has dragged on meaninglessly. You’re slow to close the cafe each night, knowing Vannie won’t be perched on her cat tree in the corner of your living room while she waits for you to step inside.

When you go to hang a “missing pet” poster, it looks so insignificant in the sea of all the other pictures of lost dogs and cats that are plastered onto the light post. You spend each day tirelessly waiting at the kitchen window for your baby to come home.

One night, Mikey swings by. His usual friendly and excited smile wipes clean off his face when he sees your tired eyes, puffy and red from crying through the glass. You open it, wiping at the snot dripping from your nose.

“Woah, angel.” He’s leaning down and looking toward you with caution, “What’s wrong?”

“V-Vannie,” you have to swallow the frog in your throat to keep from sobbing all over again, “Vannie’s missing. I can’t find her anywhere.”

Empathy is swimming in his eyes.

“Aw dude,” Mikey grabs your hand from the window and gives it a comforting squeeze, “I’m sorry. Didya’ put up posters and stuff?”

You nod, and squeeze back, with a sniffle.

“Hung them up everywhere. She’s been gone for over a week. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll tell the bros if you want. We’ll look for her on patrol.”

You sigh, and give him a watery, weak smile.

“Thank you Mike. You’re the best.”

He winks.

“Anytime sweet cheeks,” he looks down at his phone, “I gotta get going, but don’t worry, We’ll find your kitty!”

Mikey blows you a kiss and scales your fire escape.

That night, it’s just a little bit easier trying to find rest. Bless those boys, always looking out for you. The next morning you receive a text from another unsaved number. You know it’s Raph.

[sorry to hear about van]

[i’ll find her for you]

You smile at your phone.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

A few more days slug along, before you see one of the brothers again.

It’s a night you’re supposed to be sleeping, with work the next morning. Instead, you’re laying on the couch, phone being the only light in the dark living room, and scrolling through the hundreds of pictures of your sweet kitty, through tear clouded eyes. A video of her playing with a hair tie in your empty bathtub pulls a sad little whimper from you. You miss Vannie so badly. It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve seen her, and it worries you what she’s been doing, if she’s hurt, or an unthinkable other outcome that you immediately shove out of your head and lock the door on anytime it crossed your mind. Life’s been full of interruptions lately. This next one shouldn’t be a shocker, but it is anyway.

Tick.

You almost miss the noise. A few seconds later, it comes again.

Tick-ting.

You turn to look at the window. Another small rock clicks against the glass and bounces off onto the fire escape, and it calls you to get up and investigate. By the time you get there, another pebble flies at you, and it makes you flinch. It comes down below from the dark alleyway. You open the window.

“Hello?”

Mrowr.

Your heart drops.

“Vannie?”

You see the huge figure of one of the turtles stepping forward, and in their outstretched hand, is your cat. Her grey fur is soaked with the rain that’s starting to trickle outside, one ear laid back in fear and confusion.

“Oh my god. Raph, you found her!” Like a fumbling idiot, you scramble over the sink and push yourself all the way out of the opening, feet landing lightly on the metal platform. The summer rain immediately hits your hair and skin. Raphael doesn’t move. Something feels off.

The way he holds her out into the light, keeping the rest of his body in the shadows. His labored breaths can barely be heard over water tinking off every surface it can reach.

“Raph? Are you okay?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Raph, come here.”

You watch him. He doesn’t want to, you can tell. The way he pauses and then staggers forward on a limp foot makes your eyes widen with concern. He grunts. Then you see the deep red stains that covers his outstretched arm.

“Holy shit.”

It’s hard to make out his face. Raph’s trying his best to hide it, leveraging the darkness, down where he’s swaying unsteadily.

“Raphael, what happened?”

He just gruff’s out in response, animalistic, and pained.

“Come up here. Please.”

He sighs. The lowering of his arm, with Vannie still clutched safely, indicated his surrender. He slinks forward under the fire escape, and you feel it wobble as he ascends it. It’s slow, interrupted with strained, deep breathing and huffs of discomfort. Your face contorts from that of uncertainty into dread. Suddenly, you’re not so worried about your lost cat anymore. Raphael steps onto the scaffolding with you. He loses his footing against the slick metal, and his bad leg gives out underneath him, falling to one of his knees. He yelps with a snarled lip, all the while, Vannie held safely against his chest.

“What the fuck.”

His arm isn’t the only thing nearly coated with blood. You can see it glinting in the faint light of your kitchen and moon peeking through thin clouds, spattered across the rest of his upper half, running from his nose, and down under his mask, being washed away by the rain. He’s got new, fresh cuts, almost white from how deep they go into his skin, and dark patches of skin that seem to be bruises.

“You-“ His voice is guttural and hoarse. He swallows thickly, “You ain’t gotta look at me like that.” Raphael spits a little blood from his mouth.

“What happened?”

He turns away, instead of answering your question. Vannie claws her way out of his hold and clambers into the window with record speed, desperate to get out of the rain.

“Cat did it.”

Even in this horrendous, battered up state, he has room for jokes. Idiot.

“I’m not kidding, Raph.” You take a step forward to better look at his injuries, gently grabbing his jaw and turning his head to look at you. You can’t tell if it’s the rain or tears collecting in his eyes.

“Come inside.”

Next thing you know, you’re guiding Raphel gently up the staircase to your floor, straining under his body weight while he leans against you for support. He stumbles through the door, tracking rain and dark red into the carpet. It’s the least of your worries right now. Raph trudges to the tile floor of your kitchenette, and slumps down to sit on his butt. It’s still dark in the space, but you can’t bring yourself to flick on the light, worried it’ll hurt his eyes, and even more focused on his countless injuries. You don’t even know where to start.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He continues his streak of silence, just looking down at the floor with an empty, tired glare, while you stand to go get a towel and clean wash-rags. The rain drones outside, getting heavier. You don’t speak to each other while you dry the rain from his skin, and then gently scrub away the blood with warm water. He allows you to clean him up without quarrel, if it means not having to tell you how he sustained such horrific injuries. You’re seated on your knees, between his legs on the floor, close enough to feel Raphael’s breath leaving his nose and cool your warm face, and catch the scent of warm summer rain and iron on his skin. He flinches when the rag dabs over one of the deep scratches above his collarbone.

“Sorry,” you look up to see his eyelids heavy, and brow scrunched in a painful expression, “It’s not gonna feel great.”

He knows, of course, and lets you continue tending to the wound with a hand that’s as gentle as it can be. It’s quiet, once again. The downpour is happy to fill its space.

Your hands softly graze over each bruise and welt that he’s gained. Each rag is soaked with lukewarm water and the rusted tint of blood, then tossed to the side to be replaced with a new one, until all of Raph’s verdian scales are clear and dry. You don’t have a fancy first-aid kit like Donnie’s. It’s a Tupperware container filled with different sized bandaids and a nearly expired tube of neosporin. It would have to do until his brother could get his nifty, medically inclined hands on him.

This is so intimate. Centimeters away from each other’s warm bodies, in the dark, while you reach to stick a bandage over a little slice on the side of his cheek. So close it feels like a dam is about to crumble into pieces. You have to speak to keep yourself from doing something stupid.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” you say, so quiet, it’s almost a whisper, “But-“

“They had her.”

You pull away to look into his eyes. They’re swimming with some intense emotion between anger and shame, a deep green glinting in the soft light.

“Who did?”

“I don’t know. Some douchebags,” he’s recounting the confrontation in his head, and looks down at his scratched knuckles, “They were tormentin the poor thing.”

Raph remembers ducking between a few alleys on his patrol that night. He’s climbing the side of an old warehouse where he usually sticks out, high above most of the city. The fifth floor is occupied with loud laughter and rap music that blares through the broken window. A bunch of men and women drinking and smoking, resting on old furniture and crates that had been left a long time ago. He thinks nothing of it, already trying to continue up the building, until he hears a yowl.

He doesn’t want to believe it’s Vannie, that they’re gathering around and dunking in a bucket of old mop water, but her missing ear and red collar around her neck confirm his worst fears. She’s trying to claw her water from their grip, but their numbers and strong tattooed arms overpower her, and they shove her under the surface again.

Raphael is filled with a blind rage that calls him to jump down through the window and threaten them with a loud voice. He recalls the overwhelming sinking feeling in his gut when their numbers grow even larger, jumping down from crates and out of dark corners of the huge room.

“They had a bunch a’ crowbars. Pocket knives. Shit like that.” He doesn’t want to look up at your face. He can already feel the despair setting in your features.

He was overpowered so quickly. Metal bats and steel toed shoes hitting his thick skin, blades cutting, while some of them held him down by his arms and sitting on the back of his shell, plastron pressed helplessly to the concrete floor. He cries out for his brothers, while the group of ruthless attackers steal his weapons and use them to barrade down on him. It was the thought of you crying for your cat that finally pulled him from the floor in a white-hot anger, throwing them off and falling backwards.

It was all a blur from there. Ruthless punches thrown and cracking against their faces. Just his bare, bandaged hands landing blows onto anyone and everyone that crossed his path. Raphael had practically blacked out. Nobody was getting away with it. Even the ones that tried to scramble away became a lost cause if he caught them in the corner of his eyes, dragging them by their legs and hauling them into piles of rotting wood and brick walls.

You watch as he shivers through the memory.

By the time Raphael is through with the assemblage of delinquents, he’s still pumping full of adrenaline and unfathomable rage, heaving out deep breaths with a bloody spittle collecting at the edges of his lips. All were lying unconscious or crying out in pain for their absent mothers, and any who got away were lucky enough to slink into the protective shade of the corners. The edges of his vision are still fuzzy. He can feel his racing heart in his head, and the trickle of blood down the sides of his face and arms. He’s not sure if most of it is, or theirs.

“I dunno if I killed any of em’. But I was so fuckin angry.”

Raph scoops up a cowering vannie from the bucket, then turns to her main assailant, trembling on the cold floor and cradling a (surely broken) wrist.

“You think you’re tough, huh?” He sneers down at the man, who has a blackened eye, “Hurtin’ a poor animal who did nothin to ya?”

Raph dumps the dirty contents of the bucket onto him, then kicks his side.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, is what you are.”

Afterwards, he opts to take the stairs all the way down, limping on his bad leg, and make the trek to your apartment.

He’s pulled from his hateful trance, to look at where you’re staring up at him with watery eyes.

“You saved her.”

Raph seems surprised it’s all you have to say. Nothing about beating her captors to a pulp and leaving them for dead. A tear rolls down the side of your nose. His eyes widen with worry.

“You saved my baby, Raph.”

“I-I just,” he swallows thickly, “I know how important she is to ya,”

It’s amazing. The way the room is so dark and yet all of your senses are in tune with how every muscle moves under his thick skin. How he’s expected you to be overwhelmed with fear and push him away from you, with the worry that he’s this angry monster that he’s been hiding. Instead you’re thanking him. That means more to him than he could express. He hates the silence now, hates the way he’s so awkward and how he doesn’t know the right way to respond to your gratitude. He’s adjusting to lift himself off the ground.

“I gotta get back to-“ Raphael forgets about going back to the lair. He forgets his lame leg. All the cuts and bruises, and saving Vannie. You forget about the fear of rejection and what comes next. The sleepless nights that have been holding you awake at their mercy. Instead you’re both tuned into the way you lift yourself up on your knees and grab his face and pull him down.

It’s a short, unexpected kiss that doesn’t break past your lips, faces smushed together, like puzzle pieces that don’t fit quite right. And then you pull away, both so surprised at it, that at first it doesn’t register. On the outside, your hands are frozen, hovering just above his jawline, in pure idiocy at the idea that you just did that. And in your brain, you’re beating yourself senseless, because what the fuck were you thinking??

How fucking ridiculous.

Raph’s eyes are the widest you’ve ever seen them, flicking between your own. He’s breathing heavy, mouth slack, and the wordless reaction is freaking you out. You swear you can hear his heart thundering under his plastron. Or was that you?

It’s then that he grabs you right back and pulls you in for a much more calculated, breathless kiss. You lean into it, desperate and nervous, and grabbing the tails of his bandanna to bring him as close as possible.

This was happening. It was a thing.

You and Raphael sitting on the kitchen floor, with his shell pressed into one of the lower cabinets, and borderline making out. What would your mother think?

You’ve always been used to Raph’s soft touch, anytime he’d fist bump you through the kitchen window or brush past your arm. That was not him now.

His huge hands are tangled in your hair and at the nape of your neck, and he’s drinking you in like water. You’re pressing him further into the cabinet door intoxicated over the way your teeth and noses slightly graze past each other. His tongue slipping into your mouth makes you shudder and you huff. Raph’s easily pulling you up into his crossed legs.

This gentle giant was no more, firm and intentional with every move he makes. He doesn’t shy away from moving further into your touch and kissing you deeper. You can feel his mouth curl into a smile when you gasp. Your hands are everywhere. traveling up the tough texture of his plastron, to his beyond muscular shoulder, where one roughly grazes over a bigger cut. Raph pulls away with a hiss.

“Sorry!” You squeak out. It’s the first you’ve spoken since kissing him senseless. He winces but the recovery is swift, and he looks up at you with pupils blown wide, black eating away at their beautiful color, fluster evident at the warm tint to his face.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle, sunshine.”

The nickname makes your stomach do a summersault. You smile, out of breath.

“You’re hot.”

Stupid! What the hell is wrong with you?!

“You kiddin’ me?” He laughs, “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His voice is a low growl, and he pulls you in once again by the back of your head. Back to it, I guess.

If the window hadn’t been open, it would surely be fogged up by now, with your heated breaths floating up from the cool floor. This was great.

Unanticipated, and weird, but just so great. You have to push off of each other to stop from going any further than you already have, both sweaty, breathing heavily and grinning like you just won a Grammy. It takes a while before one of you can catch your breath. Raph nudges your shoulder.

“You’re my first kiss.”

He flashes you a five star grin with flared nostrils. You match it. It shouldn’t surprise you that much, but it does anyway.

“Yeah?” He nods, “Well, you’re my first good kiss.”

You see the pride roll over Raph in a wave.

“That good, huh?”

You shove his face away playfully when he gets close.

“Now that I think about it, it was mediocre.”

The turtle ruffles your already disheveled hair.

“Whateva. You loved that shit.”

Oh you did. The evidence of him enjoying just as much is the prominent arousal just under his naval, and you’re trying to avert your view. He catches it and his eyes blow wide, trying to quickly readjust the way he’s sitting.

“Ah! Heh-uhhh-“ Raph coughs into his fist, and then drags an open palm down his face in immense embarrassment, “Sorry! Sorry. I should probably, uh, get goin’”

It makes you giggle like a teenager. Raph’s bad leg hasn’t crossed either of your minds until he tries to lift himself from the floor and it gives out under his weight again and he shouts.

“There’s no way you’re getting back to the lair on that. Something’s probably broken.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he snorts. You jump to his aid, slipping your arm under his for support and help raise him off the ground.

“You’ll probably need to stay here for the night, until Donnie can check you out.“

The thought of having a sleepover with the guy you just sucked face with for 20 minutes is so exciting.

“Are ya sure?” Raph sounds unsure while you guide him down onto the couch.

“You can sleep here. I’ll text Don to come over in the morning.”

He lays back onto the cushions and lets you grab him a blanket and pillow from your room, tucking him in and placing a light kiss on his red-banded forehead. You slide down onto the carpet to be eye level where Raphael’s head is snuggled into the pillow.

Vannie meows, the first you’ve heard from her since she came in through the window. Her tiny head peeks over the back of the couch. You both watch with soft smiles as she curls up, purring, on Raph’s chest.

He flinches a little when your hand slips into his larger one and gives it a squeeze.

“Thank you for bringing her back to me.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The next morning, Donnie has successfully picked the lock to your front door, heeding to your late night text. He does a double take, and then snorts with an incredulous smile, seeing you passed out on the floor, his older brother on the couch and Vannie still sleeping soundly on top of him while he snores.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

BAM, YOU GET A BIG OL' KISS

HERE'S PART 5 EVERYONE!!! I SINCERELY APPRECIATE ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT AND PATIENCE ON THIS PART, I REALLY STRUGGLED WRITING IT LMAO 🩷💓💕

Also, I came back to this page with 260 followers and I opened it this morning to 410??

I really do not deserve such incredible support from all of you wonderful folks 😭🙏🩷💓

I'm not sure if I'll add another part, which will most likely be a little epilogue, but PLEASE LET ME KNOWWW !!!!

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