#i don’t want to be mean. i really don’t. but as Soon as i get overwhelmed that goes flying out the fucking window

[daiku-hokage]

Snack Time

Synopsis: You're in your second trimester of pregnancy and hormones are kicking in. Cravings hit hard but even harder for Sylus.

Sylus x fem reader

A/N: A mix of fluff and smut. The ramp up to the smut takes a sec but I promise it is there. This is my first ever fic so thoughts are appreciated <3

Tags: fluff, smut pregnancy, after care, comfort

There is no predicting how the outcome of these things go. Morning sickness and active nausea to specific scents overwhelmed you for the first month. 

While you had a knack for snacking,  recent food cravings transformed your snack supply into a bizarre territory. Mangoes dipped in peanut butter, guacamole with Cheerios and Hot Cheetos in instant ramen was even a surprise delicacy to you. Sylus found it amusing but admitted it’s not in his ball park to participate in exploring these foods alongside you. To keep up with the increasing abstract demands he had Luke and Kieran doing daily food shopping to your personal pantry. 

“Your turn today, the Miss is gonna need a restock on cucumbers, queso and lets see…Ah! Hot Cheetos flavored mac and cheese” Luke read from a handwritten note.

“Sweet Lord, I don’t know how Boss still kisses her as she is right now, last week she was eating pickles dipped in spinach artichoke dip. You can’t tell me the wind from her breath or ass isn’t gnarly as hell by now” Kieran shivered with his hands rubbing along his sides. 

“Hey man, that's Boss’s baby growing inside of her, just be happy she hasn’t had a craving for the blood of his enemies as of yet” Luke retorted.

“That’s true…Oh! But if she does that means less work and more days off for us!” 

Both twins high fiving each other.

The second month your body was slowly taking on a new form with new weight along your thighs, hips and of course your belly. Constantly becoming annoyed at how the expansion of your stomach protested against every item in your wardrobe aside from sweatpants. Your breasts were soon following suit as you began to notice a bit more pinching on your sides when putting on your bra. 

The third month however leads you down a far more complex path to navigate, not as simple as avoiding aromas or obtaining more maternal sized clothing. Oh no it was a consistent wave of horniness taking every aspect of you hostage. In reading further online you came across some articles discussing how pregnancy often sparked changes in levels of libido for women. Hormone level changes could cause either a sharp increase or decrease but there was no information available on how to regulate it. You weren’t the type to accept no as an answer though. Back at the hunter association you inquired by the water cooler with Tara. 

“I heard from Meredith when she was pregnant it was non-stop, she said the hormones had her on top of her husband like he was a pogostick for weeks.” Whispering the details to your ear as to not reveal your colleagues details to those passing by. 

“Are you serious?! Oh man this is so damn annoying, is there really nothing to calm this down. I feel like it's just one thing after the other. After patrolling my feet ache; I take 4 snack breaks just to avoid feeling like I'm going to faint from hunger. Now my body wants to go at it like a damn rodeo show, who decides this shit!” you say while blowing hot air and squeezing your water bottle in hopes of releasing some frustration.

“The whole thing is a journey, I get it, but hey chin up! It’s not forever and in a few months you’ll be back to normal”. In the meantime maybe…ya know lean on your husband a bit more if you know what I mean.” Tara trailed off in her words so you could catch her drift. 

Your eyebrows contorted toward each other. “I-I’m not incapable of it, obviously as you can see” waving your hand over your stomach. “It’s feeling more like a burden that I can’t stand the idea of. He is already doing so much to keep up with me and the baby. Body aches/nausea/morning sickness, food cravings, new wardrobe, doctors appointment, all on his already busy schedule. To suddenly jump on him when he has a moment of rest because I can’t keep it in my pants, feels greedy.” You sighed lazily leaning against the wall in a sense of defeat. 

“Well to be honest, him not keeping it in his pants is ssoortttaa of how you both got here in the first place.”

You blew raspberries and giggled at her response “Good point there” *

“Listen the way you talk about Sy, I can tell you want more alone time to care for your new ‘urges’. It wouldn’t be difficult to add to his to-do list. Just communicate with him what’s going on and quit beating yourself up about it” 

You released a deep sigh and dropped your arms to your sides. “Tis very sound advice, thanks Tara.”

The convo you had with Tara stuck with you and her outlook made sense when you reflect the past few months. 

Sylus the man that he is, was always of no complaint to you in your transition through pregnancy thus far. When the morning sickness came he was at your side holding your hair back with one hand and fresh tea prepared in the other. At times when you had sudden craving for the most odd of food combinations he had three more chefs hired to be ready for your request at all times of the day.

Accompanying you to purchase a new wardrobe to compliment your new curves was of a delight to his spirit. He spoiled you with high end attire and quality fabric that in any other circumstance you would protest was far too expensive and unnecessary. This new sex drive on the other hand meant more than what his black card was capable of correcting, it meant him and all of him.

The thoughts sweeping your mind were embarrassing to your consciousness. The sight of the simplest of actions had you driving up a wall.

One evening he had returned with a haul of baby items and decor for the new nursery. He easily could have gotten Luke, Kieran or any of the other employees at the estate to manage organizing the space but he insisted on doing it himself. 

While on a snack run you noticed him lifting and pushing around heavy furniture across the room. A bit of sweat building above his collarbone down to his chest. Not in his usual classy work attire but a work out tank and joggers. You stopped in your tracks at the door watching him cutting boxes open with a knife and his bicep flexing in the motions. You began to fall into a daze as you imagined the bicep around your throat and his massive form towering over you from behind. The day dreaming got the best of you and you forgot the bag of chips you were holding as a few fell crumbling on the ground. Sylus turns around hearing the crinkle of your potato chips to face you.

“Snacking again I see, it might be worth me investing in surgically giving you hamster cheeks so you can store your late night snacks more efficiently and conveniently.” He joked while separating the crib pieces according to the instructions. 

His words broke your fantasy and red began to flood your cheeks and ears as you subconsciously hoped he hadn’t realized the intentions behind your stare. 

“What’s the matter, baby’s got your tongue?” He smirked, leaning back on his forearms giving him  a more interesting view of you from below. 

“If you're not going to rest, you can spend some time here with me to look at wallpaper decals. I was thinking either crow or dove feathers” He gestured for you to come closer to inquire about the sample prints he had for the wall art. 

You felt your body heating up and ultimately your lower half followed suit. You didn’t want to risk where your thoughts began to wander.  Not wanting to risk where your thoughts begin to wander, you stay rooted in the spot, not daring to get any closer. 

“Uummm my butt is aching, I feel like laying in bed, text the vendor I’ll take a look at it later.” Racing away you hurried back to your bedroom to avoid him or risk revealing your secret symptom. 

Watching you rush pass the door and further down the hall, Sylus’ mouth curved into a slight frown as his eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

Cupping one side of his mouth to channel his voice “Don’t fall asleep with the potato chips in your hair again darling!” 

(A few days after your conversation with Tara.)

Sylus just arrived back from his Onychinus obligations ready to settle into a warm bath with you. He looked forward to  you snuggling above him in his tight embrace surrounded by playful bubbles and candles. When he reached near the bathroom entry way he heard nothing, not the sound of water filling the bath or your soft spoken comments about how much bubble bath is too much bubble bath. Disappointment began to settle into his mind as he began to search for his expected company. It had become a bit of a ritual between the two of you. It was a moment for him to unwind from the demanding lifestyle of his work in N109 zone. Even more so it was a time where he could both figuratively and literally soak you in, inhaling your scent and  caressing your soft plush skin. He would listen to your cute quipped stories from your day away from him, transitioning from topic to topic, he’d lose himself in you no matter how ordinary the tale. As of recently your pregnancy disturbed this special time for you both for various reasons. Early doctors appointments, random morning sickness that left you in need of care, an emotional tantrum about your weight followed by water works. Today he knew none of the above could be the case, as Mephisto had been adjusted to be more sensitive when monitoring you in his absence. No such notifications appeared to him prior to his arrival. He soon finds you on the couch in front of the fireplace sorting through paperwork from the association's human resource department. Sylus strolling into the room from behind the couch leaning forward reaches over to grab one of the papers from your hand. 

You gasp from the swift movements and his sudden appearance behind you. 

“Hey! You just get home and start stealing my things, rude much”  Turning your head toward him with a glare for claiming your document. 

“I’d say it was a cheap fee for not finding my adoring partner surrounded by her favorite vanilla scented bubbles upon my arrival.” He teased holding the paper above your head. 

A bit of guilt began to pour into you, you hadn’t forgotten about it, you were avoiding facing your Sylus fever until you built up the courage to talk to him properly about it. You had been running so many scenarios in your mind on how to go about approaching the topic without sounding pathetic. Still you didn’t want to make him feel rejected considering you both had been missing out on this intimate time more frequently than anticipated in the past few weeks. Regardless you had to keep your guard up until you discerned a path you were comfortable with. 

“Oh you know I got so distracted with reviewing some reports I lost track of time, silly me. Not to mention my feet are so achy today from messing around with Mephisto yesterday I thought I would take a breather here first and wait for you to get back.” You gave a slight smile attempting to play off your lie the best you could. Sylus was typically not one to fall for your fibs and had a hunch you were keeping away from the truth for another reason. He’d play along momentarily while he uncovered what he really wanted to know. 

“Such a dedicated woman to her craft, I should have you coaching more of my henchmen in your ways. Care if I take a seat here to rub away these pestering aches while I review–” He paused to take a moment to glance at the paper and quickly scanned the content. It was a notice from the association alleviating you from engaging in patrols until after delivering your baby and completing your maternal leave for recovery. While scanning the document  he took a seat on the couch and grasped your feet into his palms, slowly engaging the knots in your muscles with care.

“Seems like the association is taking proper measures as you enter the second trimester, good. Saves me time from having to negotiate with your superiors.” 

Since the start of your pregnancy Sylus had been insisting on you working remotely. You protested suggesting you were still capable of combat for at least two months into your first trimester. While not easy with your various symptoms you felt obligated to your duty as a hunter. *Out of respect for you he agreed but on his own “Sylus like terms” which basically consisted of  Luke and Kieran following you each day to ensure your safety. You understood and respected the association's policy, deep down you knew the protection of your womb was of the utmost priority at the moment. However, going in person to the office just to file paperwork at least meant some sort of down time from your mind constantly racing about how to undo Sylus’ clothes with your teeth. Working at home meant not only encountering him at all times of the day but being at your peak of sexual frustration. Smelling his scent, staring at the clock wondering when he would be back home, glancing at your esteemed bed envisioning how many positions you could manage in your new size. You were spiraling. 

“I know you have been wanting me to start working from home but still it feels odd.” Your words felt stubborn to agree with you as he worked your feet and you pictured having his massage service every morning. 

“What’s the issue here again, kitten?” He applied a bit more pressure to your heel and locked eyes with you. 

“I just feel like I’ll be bored working from home ya know” You were clenching your swollen stomach avoiding eye contact with your husband in hopes his crimson eyes wouldn’t capture the true intentions behind your disapproval. 

“Boredom, really, when here you have access to the horse stable, personal theater, shooting range and a botanical garden? You fear lack of entertainment?” Sylus snarked back sarcastically while circling the pressure between the soles of your feet and your ankles. 

“Well it's not like everything is here, like my favorite coffee shop…and the bakery! They are right next to the office, I’d miss them during the day” you were scrambling for any avenue you could to redirect the conversation in your favor. 

“Hhmmm oh you don’t say, as for coffee, it is restricted from your usual consumption currently until after our child’s arrival, last I checked. As for this esteemed bakery, I’m aware of your sweet tooth and attraction to decorative goods. Hence the recent new hire from overseas that is award winning and nationally recognized for her pastries on call at the estate. I’m sure her work excels far above, oh what was it called, donny’s dough(nuts)” Sylus retorts in confidence. 

Your brow flinched with nervousness by his usual directness and clear points. You recoil your feet from his grasp and tuck them beneath yourself.  

“Hey don’t discredit donny’s ‘ the donut holes 10 for 3 deal’ those got me through a lot of late night reports with Tara at the office I’ll have you know” Puffing your cheeks and arms crossed hoping to amplify your defense.

Annoyance begins to creep unto Sylus expression. “ something is not adding up here, while I am fully aware of the new physical and emotional changes sweetie, I can’t help to notice your reluctance around me as of recent” 

-Crap, he’s on to me- You shout to yourself mentally.

He slides over closing the distance between you both on the couch, reaching over he places his calloused hands on your thigh. You recoil a bit hoping he doesn’t notice the attention your eyes have on his body and attempting to conceal your thoughts from his intense gaze. 

“See that right there, it’s as if my presence discomforts you these days, actually scurrying away from me like a frightened kitten. You have even gone out of your way to prevent me from seeing you for our typical morning baths. I have to say love, if I were not the handsome man that I am, I’d think you’ve become disgusted of me” 

“What?! Of course not, the complete opposite!” You gasp a sharp breath at the realization of your words. 

“Oh the opposite you say” He reaches over, placing his large hands around your shoulder and other wrapping around under your knees pulling you into his lap. 

“Enlighten me then darling, to what crime did I commit to owe scarcity in your recent lack of affection” Snuggling his face into the dips of your neck with a heavy inhale of your scent. 

“I do all in my power to comfort you during this journey honey and without a need for recognition but here my loving wife leaves her devoted husband, for donut holes, surely I’m more valuable to you than that” 

His words trace over you like a knife ready to pierce you at your vitals. The dam withholding your hormonal waves has now cracked at his swift vulnerability. You are one sudden move away from cracking under the pressure. 

He begins to rub your thighs in a circular motion running up and down between them and your round belly. Lowering his face to your stomach he whispers “you hear that kids, your dear papa may have lost your mother to donny the baker, how cruel your mother can be” Sylus pouts in a mocking tone, followed by a pepper of kisses on your stomach nearing dangerously close to your chest. 

“Dramatics are un-befitting of you” you scoff.

“Oh sweetie, trust me I can take it to ten if need be. Would you like to test it out or care to share with the rest of the family what’s really going on here” His tone low and rough, he craved an end to your avoidance.

You froze, his crimson eyes piercing into you like he could read your thoughts. You could feel the red rushing to your cheeks and ears. Your eyes dart between his hands and lips in turmoil between your body's wants and ego's pride. 

“Talk” His voice stern, the dam has failed. 

“I..didn’t know how to voice it but…as of recently I’ve been facing some new pregnancy symptoms” you whispered delicately beneath your breath, avoiding eye contact and pressing your index fingers against one another like a child confessing in a principal office. 

“Go on, what are these symptoms, is it emotional or physical discomfort? I'm all ears, I’m here for you.” Sylus stares intensely in anticipation of your words. 

“Well…I-I’d say a mix..I have been feeling more determined lately” 

Sylus eyebrows raised, unclear by where your confession is trailing towards.

“Darling I can speak several languages as you know but pussyfooting is not a dialect I have explored, so do us both a favor and be straightforward will you” 

“I want to have sex with you” You responded sharply. There you unraveled before him, nothing to hold back and with that your efforts tossed to the flames. 

Pure confusion flooded Sylus’ face. “Sex, you mean the same art form that I, your husband,  engaged with you to -placing both hands on your belly- make them, that sex yes. Surely, Linkon educational system covered basic reproductive health.” 

“I know how I got pregnant, dummy! What I mean is, I can’t stop thinking about having sex with you. One moment I am folding your clothes and the next I’m inhaling your scent through your underwear ready to ride myself out on the corners of our bed. Even you massaging my feet here I’ve been on edge holding myself back to not pounce on you like an animal. I feel so embarrassed by how often it keeps happening. I’ve been using work at the association to keep from being at home and facing my frustrations….I just feel like such a horny teenager” Just like that your previous efforts to script your confession had dissolved like paper in water. You bury your face in your hands muzzling your last few words fighting back an urge to tear up amidst your confession. 

Sylus pauses and gives a brief exhale before speaking. He wraps his arm tighter around you, he removes your hand from hiding, raising your chin to meet his eyes directly. 

“Sweetie, since you tested positive on your pregnancy test I could not have been more overjoyed. Despite the challenges we both anticipated ahead I took time to take each with care with you in mind. That includes holding myself back as well.” 

You let out a small gasp and dwell on his words. “What do you mean by, holding back” 

Sylus sighs, staring at the ceiling and back down while pinching between the bridge of his nose. 

“At some point in your first trimester you began to…glow in a way I can’t quite put into words. You have and will always be a beauty in my eyes but as your belly began to swell, the way you talk, the way you lay in bed at night, put on dresses with more thought out movements. I found myself capturing each moment and desire building up to take you to bed and ravish you. Your cravings for more hardy foods and bizarre snacks is noticeable filling in various areas in your form, each one taunting me.” He gripped your sides to emphasize himself.

“Why taunting, why haven’t you made a move?” You exclaimed back quickly, eager to decode his words. 

“Similar to you I don’t want to be perceived as a selfish inconsiderate male. To expect sex from you in this new state and at a higher frequency than usual made me feel…greedy. The last thing I would want is your perception of me as a monster hungry only for your body.”

Your chest rises in a quick breath at the realization at what you both were hiding from each other. The pure irony that you both shared a similar guilt of harboring the sin of greed to one another. Now all of a sudden your coy plans to avoid your lover seem pathetically irrational. Had you voiced yourself more freely, this entire misunderstanding could have been avoided. 

You cuff Sylus face in your hands and pull him in for a passionate, long yearned for, kiss. A muzzled grunt from him leaks into your throat as you deepen the connection with your tongue and pull him in closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. His large hands straddle your waist driven to join you closer to him while being mindful of the noticeable bump between you both.

Your faces twist and turn, searching to take in as much of each other as possible, grunts and moans filling the atmosphere with each intentional movement. The tension in your lower sexes elevates to dangerous levels making your desires palpable. You both break free for a moment  for air, leaning your foreheads against each other for balance and exhaling rhythmically in sync with each other.

“Your playing a dangerous game here kitten, as I am right now with you, I don’t know how well I can hold back, it’s been 94 days, 3 hours and 12 minutes counting since I’ve last had you, I might go mad” 

You lay your hand on his chest and lean your lips near his ear. 

“I’m ready to clock in Boss, please take good care of me” 

Sylus’ crimson eyes dilate and his body swiftly picks you up bridal style with no hesitation taking large strides to your bed covered in black silk sheets. Like holding a delicate jewel he places you in the center and hovers over you with your hands cupping his cheeks. 

He bends over just a hair thickness away from your lips 

“I hope you saved your strength, we are likely to be working overtime tonight” He spoke with a growl coated in his throat from his desire and painted with a devilish grin ready to sink his teeth into you. 

You caress his cheeks and flash him an endearing smile “Lucky for you I’m such a well rounded and dedicated hunter, a master of her craft.” You lick his lips playfully to toy with him and set him a blaze. You were ready to have all of your built up passions flood the space around. It had been a considerable time for your track records since you last laid together. Those numbers meant nothing to you at this moment though. The time wasted circling each other in this tense dance was no longer of your concern. What mattered was just you and him diving into one another after denying each other for such an extended period. The thought did interrupt your impulse suddenly as you realized the new challenge of love making with the extra weight on you. Could you manage the same performance you were quite well versed in prior to now. A fear of not seeming as sexy creeped into the back of your throat as your eyes soon become glossy with incoming tears. Sylus immediately catches wind in the sudden shift of your expression. 

“Sweetie, what has suddenly gotten a hold of you. It's ok don’t cry, I’m here, talk to me baby.” He sweeps his thumb across your eyes to momentarily hold back the tears threatening to escape. 

“I-*sniff* what if I don’t feel as good to you, what if you don’t enjoy me as much because of the change” Your voice cracking a bit trying to keep from breaking out into a cry beneath him. 

Sylus lifts you onto his lap with your legs straddled around his hips, he places a soft kiss on your cheek and wipes away any loose tears. Locking eyes with you in a deep tone Sylus whispers over your lips “Addiction isn’t nearly close enough to describing how I yearn for you. Each moment I get to hold you in my arms I fall under a trance and I am a captive vulnerable to your will. Never has it ever crossed my mind that your beauty has been tarnished in any way as you are now than from the day my soul found yours. The sinner that I am can only hope to never desanctify the sacred temple of my goddess. Despite my unholy nature you took in my seed willingly and all of the strife that comes to bearing our proof of existence. I’m unworthy but nonetheless greedy to be your exclusive and devoted worshipper. Darling, believe me when I say my vows remain true, there is no love purer than mine.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you clench onto his words wishing you could etch them into your mind forever so as to never doubt him again. All of the insecurity you felt prior melts away and a sense of longing overtakes you once more as you crash your lips into his. Your tongues dance and lips lock both competing for the upper hand over the other. Roughly inhaling and exhaling through his nose, Sylus tries to keep up with your demand as his body’s need for air becomes a balancing act on the scales of your passion.

Sylus’ hands run over your back and soon find their way to gripping your ass and pressing your lower half to grind on his hardening member. The sensation of feeling his hardness deepens your arousal and you hunger for more. Moans escape from your mouth as you capture his cheeks in your hands. You bite on his lower lip sucking on it while pulling away to draw in his thirst for you, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. In a series of huffs you speak lustfully “Don’t you dare hold back on me.” Before there is even a second to pass at the end of your plea Sylus pushes you down onto the bed with force from a deep throated kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in desperation and deepen the connection. His hands find the collar of your silk nightgown and in a swift move he tears it right down the middle completely in half to expose all of you to him. You gasp in his throat and pull away for a moment to witness the small display of his strength exclaiming 

“Sylus! Tha-” 

Cutting you off mid sentence speaking gruffly he responds “I promise to buy you a hundred more replacements.” 

Wasting no time he pushes your breast up and lowers his tongue to your nipple. He makes playful circles lubricating the peaks before intaking the entire plush mounds into his mouth to suck on. His other hand twists and tugs on the other triggering a loud moan from you. He alternates between your breasts making sure to provide each with equal attention. The wetness in between your legs spreads seeping through the fabrics of your panties. 

“Oh–fuck, Sylus I—”

In the middle of your cry he sticks his index finger and middle finger into your mouth while still sucking on your nipples with rough slow flicks of his tongue. Your instincts can’t help themselves at this point and you begin to suck on his fingers curling your tongue along their length. 

He pulls them out and traces them from your mouth down your neck all the way to your panties where he tucks his hand beneath the delicate fabric. He presses the two fingers on the folds of your entrance and rubs against it in circles. 

“I see my beloved is eager for more” 

“Sylus please I–I need yo–” 

“Shhh my queen, you need not say more” 

He kisses between your breast, underneath each, down your stomach slowly until he reaches your gates. 

“Allow me to recite a prayer” 

He places a kiss on your wet lips, from the base, he presses his tongue down with a deep long drawn out lick. He finds your clit immediately once he reaches the top, flicking it repeatedly. 

You moan out loudly, one hand gripping the bed sheets and the other at his hair as you feel yourself nearing the cliff of an orgasm. The motions he takes on the clit is relentless, just when you thought he couldn’t be any more intense, he draws an S on your clit with his tongue. Your hips buck up in response but he forces you down in place on the bed with hands on your hips. Languidly he forms a Y, followed by an L, then a U, he spells his name out on your most sensitive area as your thighs tremble in response. 

“Oh—oh my fucking go—”

“Sshhh that's my line, sweetheart” . Ceasing his calligraphy for a brief moment, he wraps both his thumbs at the side of your panties. He tugs them down your legs to provide himself full access to his meal. No longer hindered by any remaining clothing on you, a second wave of vigor ignites in him. Quickly returning to your clit he begins to suck on the tiny bean, chasing this new high he brings his index and middle finger to your entrance and pushes in slowly. Once inside you fully, he glides his fingers around your slick walls before pushing in and out rhythmically. The sounds of your now penetrated cunt fill the room along with a low grumble emitting from Sylus' chest, relaying his delight in your taste. You can’t hold on much longer at the onslaught he is conducting. The pleasure flows through you like a river from the stiff tongue protruding from your mouth to the tip of your curved toes digging into the mattress surface.  You are so close, your thighs press on the sides of Sylus head in a begging call for climax. Sylus, familiar with your distress signal, slurps violently on your clit and raises the stakes of his penetration, slipping in a third finger. At first maintaining his initial speed now with the third digit he soon increases the pace to chase your orgasm. A ripple of heat envelopes you, your voice releases Sylus’ name in a high pitched outcry. Cum spills down Sylus’ knuckles and halts his penetration as your back arches upward. Your body collapses back down in sweet surrender to the moment you had been burning for, for months. Giving one last kiss to your clit he gradually exits your now exceptionally wet cunt. 

“Kitten, listening to you purr like that after so long and seeing what a mess you’ve made. I’m sure this will take more than just one night to properly satisfy us both” Sylus shoots you a smug expression while licking the corner of his mouth where a stray drip of your cum lingered. Still seeing stars from your orgasm you weren’t sure at first whether to protest or encourage his next move. 

“Didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to properly honor my temple.” Raising your foot to meet his hard bulge practically piercing through his dress pants, you playfully massage the tip and shaft. Your touch causes Sylus to groan. As his high relaxes from chasing your climax, his attention now directs to his rock solid cock, commanding to take control. You place your hand on his cheek to redirect his crimson gaze back to you.

“I believe an offering shall suffice.” 

Sylus’ eyes dilate at your words, oh how you drove him mad. Everything about you was like a perfect symphony designed and destined just for his ears alone to indulge. He lets out a low rumbling chuckle at your decree. Raising himself above you he tears open his dress shirt  stained with your essence. Pulling his dress pants off his 8-inch cock flops out in display, slapping itself against his muscular abdomen. 

“Sweetheart, I just can’t hold back anymore, oh please won’t you accept my humble offering” 

He grabs your ankles dragging you a few inches toward himself, he spreads your legs wide open. He takes a moment to admire the image before memorizing your dazzling features to keep securely seared into his mind for safe keeping. A drop of his precum from his tip falls on your stomach, teasing at the load he is bearing. His eyes are hungry like a predator just before making its final moves on its prey. Caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers over your drunk like expression, he breathes out heavily in anticipation. 

“If for any reason you feel uncomfortable, you need to change positions or if I’m being too rough don’t you hesitate to tell me, ok darling. This moment is for us. I won’t allow you to not savor not even a second of it” 

Even at the cusp of his breaking point he upholds your well-being as his highest priority. The man that Sylus is, how could you have ever had reservations of his intent. 

You nod your head in response to his declaration to confirm your needs. Caressing the side of your thighs with one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to the front of your entrance. He presses the tip in, immediately it becomes soaked from the wetness you have trailing from your recent orgasm. Sylus breathes out a rugged groan and grits his teeth at the sweet familiar sensation that sends electric waves rushing through his veins.

“Do you want it, kitten?” He asks with his voice heavy with lust. Like a reflex to his question you wrap your legs around his hips with an unspoken assertion of your desire. The anticipation of him about to ravish you triggers waves of wetness drowning his tip.

As if profoundly making a binding vow he grasps your hands, intertwining his large rough fingers with yours. Without any further needs for affirmations he drives himself into your fortress. Hissing a curse under his breath at the long awaited reunion with your walls, it fit him perfectly like the heavens modeled your sex’s with precision for one another. Ecstasy washes over him like a thick midst that surrounds a waterfall. Lost in his raw arousal he grounds himself tightening your small hands in his, he plunges into you pulsating his strokes in your core like a war drum. Every collision he executes is explosive drawing you nearer to a second apex. 

“Sylus fu-fuck oh oh god please please har-harder I want it harder, fuck me harder daddy” 

The whine for stronger force intoxicates him and Sylus soaks in the moment of you unraveling before him like a flower in bloom. Your bidding further fueled his ambition to serve both of your insatiable hungers. Sylus releases a hand from yours to take hold of the luxury velvet headboard. Manipulating the headboard allows him to better choreograph his pounding on you. Clinching with flexing muscles, veins all along his arm project intensely. Soon the display of his might is so overt sounds of small cracks in the thick mahogany wood penetrate into the atmosphere. You both are so close. 

“Ah-da-darling fu–you’re so marvelous, my gorgeous wife, matriarch over my soul, please say my name” His strength and momentum of his thrust hit their peak, sweat accumulating all over his chest, a testimony to his labor. Your free hand latches onto his shoulder followed by your nails piercing into the meat of his toned flesh. 

“Mmmmmm yes  Sy-Sylus, Sylus! oh god yes fucking yes yes yes yes don’t fucking stop right there, right fucking there SYLUS!” Exclaiming his name in a loud winded cry you buck your hips upward and in a moment of synchrony collide with his thrust. 

Harmoniously, you baptize yourselves in each other's essence, his seed erupting in your womb like a geyser and the silk of your core outpouring down his shaft. Your thighs tremble violently at the blissful release and Sylus groans your name nearly breathless into your ear. His hand slipping from his previous intense grip on the headboard is lost and his forearms catch him so as to not collapse on your small figure. The expression of your face flushed with red painting your cheeks is dazzling, a display of your fulfillment reached. Your chest rising and falling in union with your racing heartbeat, almost all strength from your body escaped when you climaxed. 

Sylus’ hand finds your cheeks and thumb swipes over your plush lips. Lowering his head he lays his lips on yours softly at first but quickly deepens in it with his tongue to satisfy any last remaining drop of lust.

“Unfortunately I’ll need to pull out of your walls now sweetheart. I’d love to partake in that bath now though, if you’ll indulge me.” He smiles at you sweetly and kisses your forehead. He pulls out of you and the collection of your cum slides out and onto the bed sheets. The departure of his member from your insides leaves you feeling empty but eager to refresh yourself. 

“I gladly accept this additional offering of yours my love.” you respond, laying a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. Sylus rises up above you and off the bed, he picks you up bridal style carrying you to the large bath. You both rinse off in the standing shower. Sylus fills the bath 

with all of the works creating a concoction of your favorite bubble baths and bath bombs. As the piece de resistance he lights a candle and turns off the ceiling lights allowing the candle to magnify its presence. He dips you inside the bath and follows after, placing you in between his legs he wraps around you and rubs your belly in gentle circles. 

“How are we feeling now dove” 

“Mmmmm incredible, it’s like all of a sudden the tension in my body has disappeared.” You hum in delight from your new found relaxation and comfort. 

“Marvelous, I’m glad and pleased to be able to serve your needs so well. Perhaps now we can be in more alignment in our honesty for intimacy moving forward, yes” Lowering his head toward your ear he nibbles just above your earlobe. 

“Hehe that tickles and yes honey, you can count on that. Although granted you don’t mind me as a pillow princess for the next coming months.”

“I’d have it no other way, I’m sure the baby would appreciate it as well” He spoke in a tender tone near your ear while gathering a ball of bubbles along your thigh and stomach. 

Soaking in the bath felt like a long awaited curtain call to finally laying down your guards at one another. During the bath you make playful cat ears on Sylus head with the bubbles while exchanging on topics about the baby and plans to further prepare for them. 

After changing the sheets Sylus big spoons you from behind, inhaling your fresh scent from the top of your hair. 

“You know I would never harm you, either of you, right?” he murmurs. 

“Hhmmm you know good and well how such a thing was not once a fear of mine.” You respond back promptly without hesitation. Turning over on your side to face him you press your forehead against his, tangle your legs in between his and place your hand on his chest. 

“I think a good take away from this morning's exchange is that holding back because of fear won’t serve either of us. I know there are times you battle with the concept of our child viewing you as frightening. I’ve held you on several occasions when nightmares from the past strike your core. Each time they did I was here to fulfill my role too as your goddess, to purify you, banish that which attempts to corrupt your heart and soul from loving freely.” Grabbing his hand and placing it on your stomach “This child serves a purpose too, proving that your devotion is true, proving that your love truly is the purest. I’d choose no other than you to grace my womb with motherhood. You are no monster, you're mine, you are our Sylus” 

His gaze softens from your words of reassurance, his crimson eyes touched with a hint of mist. Placing a kiss on your lips he slides his body down to rest his head on your belly and hands relaxed on your hips.

“I truly do adore you”

..............................................................................................................................

Epilogue 

Luke and Kieran walk through the halls and pause when through the walls they hear muffled noises. 

“Yes! That makes ten this week, I win again, hell yes!” Luke spits out slapping Kieran’s shoulder out of excitement. 

“Uuuhhhhh how the heck do I keep losing, I’m starting to think it’s him jumping on her like a rabbit now. You sure the terms of these bets are even in the same playing field at this point!”  

“Hey man, like they say, don’t hate the players hate the game, and this player just scored as Boss continues to score with Miss hunter. So pay up” Luke retorts smuggling. 

“I hope she ends up with twins now and he pins you with diaper duty.”

-End-

[petersparkerrs]

back where we started

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: dark!joel x fem!reader

- summary: joel is a horrible partner post-outbreak. he yells. isn't too nice. fucks.

- warnings: dark!!! dubcon, slapping, choking, hair tugging, unprotected piv (don't do this guys!), smut smut smut smut, degrading, yelling, no established relationship, rough sex, crying, unsafe sex, angry sex, joel has crazy anger issues, blood, huggeee nasty age gap (legal, though! your choice for age), public / outdoor sex, size kink, joel's got a massive dick lols, power imbalance, submission, no aftercare, squirting, dirty talk, thigh riding if you squint, manhandling, joel is just incredibly mean. total asshole.

- word count: 4.5k

- author’s note: feining for mr joel miller recently so i wrote this... my first joel fic!! its gross yall. have your fun though!

—————————————୨ৎ

Partnering up with Joel Miller wasn’t ideal. He’s always looking at you like you’re some problem he doesn’t know how to solve – like you’re just cargo he’s exhausted of having to drag along. 

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s honestly an asshole. A real fucking dick, a mean bastard. To everyone else you meet, you’re a well loved, sweet girl. To Joel, though, you’re a burden. He’s a miserable person, and hanging around him only came with the positive that he knew how to hunt, how to keep you decently safe. But, hey, it’s better to be stuck with a brute of a man than to be infected. Right?

For whatever reason, the frustration has been building worse than usual for the past few days. You move like you’re on eggshells, do anything to not upset him, stay quiet when you’re asked and obey his every order. But it’s Joel fucking Miller. Nothing is ever enough with him. 

You’re young, but that's not a valid excuse for Joel. He expects as much out of you as he would another man his size and seniority, which is totally unfair of a girl your age.

So every little mistake ticks him off. Really riles him up. His temper is really fired up today for whatever reason, and you’re trying your best to not exacerbate it. 

—————————————୨ৎ

Joel should know now your most common flaws – he does pay attention, but that mind of his was too preoccupied with his fresh plan to head east to remember just how forgetful you tend to be. 

You remember twenty minutes after you leave. Everything is packed up, rifle on Joel’s thick shoulder, sleeping bags taken from Bill and Frank’s now deserted house strapped to your backs. Everything but one thing. And arguably, the most important thing for the new change of route. 

“Can y’get me out the map, girl?”

Girl. He always insists on calling you that. Rather derogatory, like he doesn’t wanna address you by a human name. Just girl.

At the question, your steps stutter. A little patch of dirt kicked up from your shoe hits the back of Joel’s calf, earning a soft grunt. “You fuckin’ deaf now? I said gimme the damn map.”

He knows what your silence means, and in that moment he's about to lose his goddamn mind. His feet stop bluntly, his large, brooding frame turning to face you. 

Your pace slows soon after him, halting to a nervous stop while your gaze flickers from its usual spot on the ground up into his dark eyes. A warning look.

“Better not tell me you lost the fuckin’ thing.” 

No words come out of your mouth, let alone even pop into your head; all you can seem to do is stare up at him like a mindless idiot, his height towering over yours when he takes a small step closer.

Again, your steps follow, this time backward. You stumble back half a foot, a twig cracking under the shift of your weight. Out of nervous habit, your left hand reaches for the right wrist, gently stroking the skin to keep yourself somewhat calm.

“Joel, I didn’t–”

His movements match your own, his large, calloused hands lurching forward to rip your hand off your wrist. It gets replaced with his own grip, but much tighter. Aggressive. Taut. Outraged. 

“Y’didn’t what? Didn’t think for once how t’not be a goddamned idiot?” He snarls, his untamed fingernails digging into the skin for a moment and leaving tiny crescents into the first layer. “Why d’you always gotta be like this, girl? Fuckin’ stupid…”

He trails off, removing his tight grip on your forearm, but not without hostility. He lets go but ends it with a good yank. Not hard enough to pop it out of place, but hard enough to get a quiet whimper out of your shy throat.

You never know what to say when he gets like this. Whether to defend yourself, whether to stay shut up and take the tirade. But you sure know well enough not to fight back – that’s how to get your arm pulled out of the socket.

“I–I swear, Joel. I had it, I don’t know where it went.”

He never takes your stupid excuses. They’re useless, he’ll never believe you. He knows that you know you forgot it at the last spot you camped out. And this time, the excuse was a pathetic mumble, your eyes glued at your wrist and the mark he left when he gripped it. Even more to make your pitiful case unconvincing. 

“Yeah, the hell you do. Quit lyin’, you know damn well where that map is.” He scoffs, brushing past you with a shove to the shoulder, his larger figure knocking you a few inches with a soft oof. “Back in the woods where you left it, ain’t it?”

Of course, you can’t plead your case anymore. You give in, nodding in submission and trudging after him once he turns around, back in the direction where you surely left the damn map. 

“...Yeah.” You murmur, rubbing a dry hand across the bottom half of your face, against your snotty nose. Not because you’d been crying, this is nothing from Joel yet. Just because the month has been terribly cold and sleeping outside every night isn’t doing you well. “At our last camp. M’sorry.”

“Always fuckin’ sorry. Sorry for almost gettin’ yourself killed, sorry for forgetting somethin’ again and again. M’sick of your shit.” He grunts, readjusting the rifle strapped over his shoulder. 

When you first met him, words like that got to you, as much as you hate to admit it. But now, everything seems to fade together. He’s just Joel. That’s how he is. And you’ve gotta live with it and try your best to not piss him off. 

To your luck, he shuts up and stops berating you – at least until you’re close to the previous camp spot. Just silence, interrupted only by the awkward shuffling of your steps behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his longer strides and stay quiet to not worsen his anger.

But when you get close enough and he has to start looking for the damned map, his mumbling and annoyance boils over once again, infiltrating the somewhat comfortable silence that your ears just got used to.

“Map was the only fuckin’ thing getting us around… no goddamn compass.” Joel mutters under his breath. Not at you, for once, but just a natural spilling of his frustration. He’s always gotta be mumbling about something, even in his sleep. “Slow me down enough as is. Gotta lose everythin’, too.”

You joined aimlessly behind him, searching around the patchy grass, anywhere for the map that was stressing him out so terribly. 

Minutes go by. He’s getting angrier by the minute, his hands flexing while he crouches down and searches. Mad, but still pretty tame for a pissed-off Joel Miller. 

That is, until he glances up and actually gets a look at you for the first time in an hour. He normally avoids any eye contact, avoids even peeking over at you. At that damn little frame… so much younger, sweeter. He seemingly hates having you around because you always tick him off, but what he hates more is the temptation that comes with having a pretty little girl by his side at all times.

He finally lets his eyes fall on you. But this time, he can’t even get his usual peek at your lips or neck, because something else catches his eye. A familiar shred of paper – just the fucking corner – poking out the zipper of your backpack. 

He genuinely slaps himself in the face, eyes turning dark and fists curling up in pure rage at the sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

He growls. Not a question, but a threat. His eyes are black at this point, breath speeding up while he takes another step toward you. Not cautious like he’ll sometimes let himself be, but warring. 

You’re confused for a bit, as you hadn’t seen the map in your own bag. Or even thought to look before you turned around and walked a half hour back, a complete waste of your time. “Oh…”

He starts again, his voice much lower than usual. Dangerous.

“You wanna tell me…” Joel breathes, stepping towards you even more until he’s got you backed against a tree. Bark pushing your shirt and jacket up, scraping at the bare skin of your lower back. “Why the hell we just wasted an hour of our time, when the map was practically right in your fuckin’ hand!”

As he curses, your heart drops. You don’t have time to react before his hands are up, flying at you. You flinch, thinking they’re coming to hurt you, but they’re reaching into your backpack. 

And sure enough, there it is. The map you spent so much valuable time fussing over. Right on your damn back. 

‘I didn’t know, Joel. Didn’t think to check.” You whimper and choke out from the back of your throat, weak and apologetic. Again, he’s not one for excuses and apologies. He’s on you before you can even think, hand forcing the map in your face.

His palm hits your mouth when he shoves the paper, a direct blow to your jaw. Your lip comes in forced contact with your bottom row of teeth, tearing the skin and swelling instantly. The only thing that can escape your mouth now is a pained whimper, which agitates the furious man on top of you worse. 

“Fuckin’ idiot. Wastin’ my damn time like always. Do you ever think?” He scoffs and backs up, maybe half an inch. 

When he notices your slightly busted lip, it brings him a sense of triumph. You ticked him off and now you’re gonna pay for it. And you sure enough feel guilty enough to not stop him, so he’s got you trapped now.

You’re frozen in place against the tree, refusing to move or utter out even the smallest of another noise. Suddenly, Joel’s mind is more occupied by the girl under his grip, shaking like a damn leaf with a bleeding and busted lip. 

“Asked you a question, little shit.” He grunts and lets his hand venture up to your jaw, pushing it around like a toy before settling with a tight grip, squeezing your cheeks and watching how the blood oozes from your lip at the pressure. “Said, do you ever fuckin’ think?”

Sure, he’s yelled at you plenty, disciplined you, maybe put his hands on you out of frustration a couple of times before. But it never feels like this. His hands usually let up after they land on you, but now he’s squeezing at your face and looking into your hazy eyes as if this is a challenge.

“Mm.” You whine, throat bobbing while you adjust to the feeling of his huge hand gripping your face. “N-no.” 

Your voice is only the softest of a mutter. 

“Speak up, girl. Didn’t hear ya’.” He rolls his eyes, giving your face a nice knead and jerking it to the side to jolt you up more. 

A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, head jerking to the right at the flick of his wrist. He holds it against the tree, your ponytail getting caught on the rough edge of the bark, the lumber scraping your ear.

“No. Don’t–don’t ever think enough. M’sorry. Wasn’t… wasn’t thinkin’.”

You sigh, head lifting up while you feel the familiar sensation of your throat tightening up, eyes starting to burn. But you keep it in. 

Joel hums, jerking your head again and shoving it harder onto the hard bark. “Damn right. Don’t think. A fuckin’ burden on me.”

He’s not doing it because he’s mad anymore. Hell, he’s already forgotten about the stupid map that caused all of this. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.

And you know that’s all he wants.

His gaze is different, his tone similar to but not matching the genuine anger you hear from him most of the time. There's a hint of more challenge in it, maybe even passion. The hand on your jaw only confirms that.

“Shoulda’ left you behind when I got the chance.” He mutters, knowing that threatening to leave you really gets under your skin. Honestly, he’s all that you have, and you’d be dead without him. So that always seems to hurt a little more than some name calling. 

You don’t react, gulping and keeping still at his arduous words. Getting no reaction from you riles him up worse, his free hand coming down to strike at the wood above your head. You flinch, and a tear unpromptedly rolls down your cheek. You don’t feel it until Joel curses, laughing in disbelief and moving his hand from your jaw down to your throat.

He squeezes. Not tight, not yet. A groan escapes his throat, low and almost pained. And before you know it, he’s got his body pressed against yours, rubbing you uncomfortably into the rotting tree. 

“Such a fuckin’ mess.” He grunts, one hand around your throat to cut off any words and the other moving to your chin to move your gaze up to him. “Cryin’ like a baby when you were the one that lost the map.” 

Your pulse jumps when he degrades you, and he swears he sees something else in your eyes this time. Not the usual fear, but something that looks like arousal. 

It sparks something in him, and he wants to see it again. His hand tightens on your neck, earning a pained gasp from your pretty throat. Your eyes lock, and he watches your head tilt back against the tree, your eyes fluttering slightly.

He can’t take much more. A tiny whimper comes out of you when his knee presses against your thigh. 

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Joel growls. Low. Frustrated. He gives up on the choking, instead gripping the back of your head and taking hold of your messy ponytail. He tugs, tilting your head more, his big aquiline nose moving down to bump under your ear and rub along the cold curve of your jaw. 

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” He whispers, his unkempt scruff that he calls a beard brushing up against you, scratching deep into the skin he just had a hand wrapped around. “Feel you gettin’ turned on. Fuckin’ slut, getting all worked up when I’m angry with you.”

You can’t do anything but take his advances and cry softly, feeling the cotton of your panties dampening each time his gruff voice comes out against your ear, his harsh breath biting at your neck. 

“Don’t got time for th’shit.” He mutters, but you hear his resolve dropping. He’s getting less and less frustrated over you wasting time, but more frustrated over the fact that he’s got his knee between your legs and he can feel the heat seeping through the fabrics, even in the biting cold weather. “Don’t got time for you makin’ me… makin’ me–ngh.”

His words stop, replaced by a low grunt into your ear the second your body even twitches against his. The grip on your ponytail tightens, tugging backward and earning a needy whine from you.

As much as he wants to keep degrading you, making you feel worthless under him, he’s feeling pretty pathetic himself. And he never gets like this with women.

His nose bumps your ear one more time before he can’t take it – his lips crash into yours. It’s not friendly. It’s not intimate. It’s fucking rude.

He intrudes, letting go of your hair and grabbing your body instead to push you against the damn tree harder. Mouths battle, and he wins, nipping hard and tasting the metallic blood from where he busted your lip earlier. Yum. 

“Joel.” You whimper, finally. It’s music to his ears, but he can’t show that. He has to be tough, not show that he’s into this. Not into the young girl he’s supposed to be training.

Joel grumbles, bringing a hand up to mindlessly slap at the side of your face at the sound of your whimper. 

“Shut up.”

And you do.

You’d do anything he told you right now. The feeling of him slapping you, biting your lips, pressing his thick knee between your thighs has got you absolutely pathetic. It’s fucking disgusting, you know that. To be so grossly into the fifty-six year old man that’s been taking care of you, the one that relentlessly bullies you and makes you feel like a worthless burden.

But you like it. You’d be anything for him, even if it meant being a worthless, pathetic burden. 

Joel’s got control. Obviously. His hand that slapped you runs over the heated skin in the same spot, almost to soothe it. What a gentleman. His lips slow on yours for a moment, latching onto the neck he had his hand around earlier instead.

In the deep woods, the only sounds heard are the birds above and his angry gasps against your skin, breathing like a madman. The softer sounds are interrupted by one of his belt clinking, being unbuckled mindlessly. And then the rustle of fabric. And then the unfamiliar sound of denim against Joel’s rough skin.

He’s straining against his boxers. Hard. Harder than he thinks he may ever have, but you don’t know that. You can tell he’s big through the fabric. It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind maybe once or twice, but you would never have expected for it to be pressed against your thigh, dangerous amounts of precum slowly leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs. 

You distract yourself while he gets busy attacking your neck and working your pants off – you don’t wanna believe it. Joel Miller is about to fuck you. He slapped you, choked you, degraded you, sure. That’s believable. But now he’s going to fuck you with that giant cock of his. 

As if it helps you not give in too much, you look everywhere to try and distract yourself. Down. His boxers read CALVIN KLEIN at the top. Up. The top button of his flannel came undone. He’s got a lot of chest hair. Behind him. There’s a bird watching him gnaw at your neck and tear your pants off, watching his bulging cock rub against your covered thigh. 

And the map is on the ground behind him.

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” He finally interrupts your private session of ‘I spy,’ breathing heavy against your skin and cupping your clothed cunt through your panties. “Look at me.”

You look up, gaze locking with his again. His eyes are equally as dark, but not with anger anymore. Desire. 

He’s gripping extra hard, hands splayed across your waist – almost big enough to wrap around, to grip you real good. Joel’s eyes travel all down your body in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, your pants torn down and now discarded on the forest floor. 

“Gonna fuck the stupidity right outchya’, yeah?” He chuckles, hoisting your body up to keep you settled between him and the tree. “‘N I want you lookin’ at me while I do it, kay’, girl? Eyes up. C’mon now.”

You can do nothing but oblige. Your eyes dart up, staying on him, even when he pulls his cock out that you so badly want to get a look at. The sound of him stroking himself, little grunts escaping his throat mindlessly, is so fucking tempting. 

But you listen, eyes staying on him, hoping to get some kind of praise from him for the first time in your life. Or maybe you want to keep getting debased. Maybe both. You seem to like the shame of it. 

“Gonna fuck you s’good you never forget anythin’ again. M’still pissed about that map, y’hear me?” He grunts, lifting you effortlessly to move his cock up into place. He’s so strong, and you’re so little. He can manhandle you however he wants, use you for his pleasure. And maybe you want that. 

From your mouth slips an obedient hum, your head shaking in a little nod so he knows you’re listening. You swear you see the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, but he replaces it within half a second with a grumble to maintain the tough guy look. 

His cock meets your slick after he pulls your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. You’re not worth the time. Not after wasting that time with the map debacle. 

The pulsing head of it drags along your slit, collecting a bit of you on the tip, making a filthy mix with his precum. It’s been a minute since any intimacy for Joel, but he can’t let you know anything. Can’t show any kind of vulnerability. He keeps it in, biting his lip and grunting to avoid any embarrassing soft noises.

“Ain’t stoppin’ if you can’t take it, by th’way.” He grumbles into your ear, his tip just barely edging into your soaked cunt. You whimper, and he squeezes your waist in warning. If he didn’t have to be holding you up, he’d have hit you again. 

But, the soft noises you let out make him want more. You seem to let them out when you’re scared – or maybe it's out of arousal. Only from when he totally degrades you. He doesn’t care, he just wants to fuck you senseless.

“Could break ya’ if I wanted. Little… tight fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, head hitting the tree next to yours when his cock finally slides in. It was a fight to get in, your tight walls not stretched enough for his fat dick to fit due to your lack of experience. “Take ya’ how I fuckin’ want.’

If this was any other man, you’d cry and beg for him to stop. But Joel. It’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. 

It hurts, but his threatening words seem to egg you on. They prod you to take it, try harder to take the thick cock that’s splitting your body right in half.

He doesn’t start slow like some guys. Joel doesn’t start slow. Ever. Joel Miller fucks, and he fucks how he wants. This isn’t about you, this is about him getting his worth back after you wasted all his damn time. 

His hips slam into you at an alarming pace, no time for you to stretch out and adjust to the movement. He’s already hitting deep enough to where, if your shirt was off, you could see the print all the way in your stomach. But no. Your shirt is on. Joel Miller doesn’t care enough to worry about a shirt, that’s foolish. He just wants pussy – no, needs it. He’s a man with priorities. 

You’re screaming, pain and pleasure. Usually he’d tell a woman to ‘shut the fuck’ up for being too loud, but you’re in the middle of the woods. Nobody around, except for the same fucking bird that’s continuing to watch you get destroyed and ripped open by a fifty-six year old. Great.

“God, baby. You’re fuckin’ helpless.” He grunts into your neck, resolve slowly slipping more. His noises get worse, louder. He doesn’t care enough anymore to pretend like this is some chore. 

He’s fucking you and he means it. 

Joel’s hips stutter after a few minutes, just in time with your own. Synced up perfectly. His rhythm is getting out of pace while you feel the pull deep in your core you haven’t felt in so long – white hot pooling in your stomach. You clench around him.

He can’t speak anymore, just like how you haven’t been able to for minutes now. All he can manage out are little grumbles into your hair, squeezing your body while he struggles with words. Getting pathetic himself.

“Fuckin’-- mm. Baby. Baby. Gon’cum soon.” 

At least he warns you. 

You could tell, anyway. The stuttering of his hips, the way he’s only hitting nice and deep now. But you’re in worse, you can’t warn him because your mouth is hung open entirely, spilling out the most pitiful string of moans that doesn’t seem to ever end. 

Without warning, you clench again. He groans, but gets louder when he feels you spill. Burst. All over his aching cock. 

“Shit, shit. You – you squirtin’?” Joel grumbles out, body spasming at the feeling of your liquids all coming out at once. Your legs are shaking, and he feels his own limbs join in. It was too much for him. 

He cums. Hard. Maybe harder than he ever has before, but you don’t have to find that bit out. 

The moment melts into a disgusting mess of simultaneous moans, whimpers, even from Joel. Despite the cold weather that was almost making you sick earlier, you feel hot. Sweaty. Both of  you.

Joel’s head comes to rest atop yours, stroking the back of your ponytail that he’d been tugging at the whole time. And for a moment – just a short moment – you thought he’d maybe take care of you after. Like a real man. 

But no. Apparently, you don’t know Joel well enough by now. He’s his own kind of man.

Once his breathing returns – somewhat – he’s back to ole’ Joel Miller. Grunts, huffs and drops you down by the tree. Tucks his spent cock back in. Before you know it, before you can speak, his pants and belt are back in place and his rifle is strapped back on his shoulder.

Your eyes shut, back scraped up from the rough tree he fucked you relentlessly against. Taking a shuddering breath, you rest for a moment, thinking that if he didn't give you any aftercare he’d at least let you have a moment to breathe. 

But again, no.

“Fuck you doin’?” 

Your single moment of silence is rudely interrupted by his southern drawl, entirely back to normal as if he didn’t have the most intense sex of his life only two minutes ago. As if forgetting it ever happened. 

And the map is back in his hand. And he looks so normal compared to you. And it makes you want to cry for whatever reason. 

There’s nothing else to do but hold back a pained whine from the soreness already building in your body, the blood you feel dripping on your back from the tree, and the metal taste of blood where he hit your lip. The slap on your cheek. The handprint on your throat. Fuck.

“C’mon, little shit. Gotta hurry. Now you wasted an hour of my time.”

[inseobts]

Idk if u do request but can you do Scary reader x One piece men? Law, Shanks, Sabo, Ace, Croc, The monster trio & whoever else you want! Basically the reader is really scary but {{char}} finds their scariness attractive.

Attractive Scariness

a/n: sorry but at some point I got out of ideas lmao

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace, shanks, sabo and crocodile

words count: around 0.4k - 0.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You’re used to fear.

The wide eyes, the shaky hands, the people stumbling over themselves to get away, etc. It’s always the same. Ever since you ate your Devil Fruit, people have called you a monster. Even when you’re not fighting, your presence alone makes people nervous.

So when you land on this island and step into a small village, you already expect the usual reaction.

And you get it.

The streets clear as soon as you walk in. The market stalls empty. Even the shopkeepers pretend not to see you.

You sigh.

“Again?” you mutter “I just want some food…”

You’re about to turn around when someone doesn’t run. A boy in a red vest and a straw hat stands right in front of you, grinning like he doesn’t even notice how scary you are.

No. He notices. He just doesn’t care.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, eyes shining “You’re super strong, huh?”

You blink “What?”

“I can tell!” He nods, completely sure of himself “Strong people have this feeling about them. And you feel really strong!”

You stare at him. That’s… new. No “stay away from me” or “please don’t kill me.” Just pure excitement.

Luffy tilts his head “What’s your power?”

You hesitate. Usually, this is the part where people scream. But he’s looking at you like a kid waiting for a magic trick.

You raise your hand. A shadow swirls around your fingers, shifting like smoke. The air around you grows heavy, dark, unnatural.

Luffy gasps.

“That’s so cool!”

“…Huh?”

“You can control shadows? Or darkness? Or... wait, is it nightmares?” He’s practically bouncing “Can you do giant shadow hands? Or make yourself super big? Or—”

You blink at him “You’re… not scared?”

Luffy grins wider “Why would I be? You’re awesome!”

This has never happened before. Ever. You don’t know what to do.

Then Luffy grabs your wrist “Hey, join my crew!”

Your brain short-circuits “What?”

“I’m Luffy! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, and I need strong people on my crew. And you’re really strong!”

You open your mouth, then close it. You look at him, at his bright, careless smile, at the way he’s just standing there, holding onto your wrist like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like you’re just a person.

Not a monster.

“…You’re weird” you say.

Luffy laughs “People tell me that a lot.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in forever, you smile.

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll join you.”

Luffy cheers, throwing his fists in the air “Yes! This is gonna be awesome!”

You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. But for once, you don’t feel like a nightmare.

You just feel like you.

Years have passed since you met Luffy. Since he grabbed your wrist, called you strong, and changed your life without even trying.

Back then, you weren’t sure what you were getting into. Now, you know.

Being with Luffy means chaos. It means waking up to find him hanging upside down from the ship’s mast, laughing like it’s normal. It means fighting beside him, watching him charge straight at danger without fear—because he trusts you to have his back.

It means love.

A love that is loud and wild, but also simple. Easy. Because Luffy has never been afraid of you. Not then, not now.

Right now, you’re on an island, sitting in the shade while the crew runs around. The villagers are keeping their distance, just like always. Even after all these years, people still fear you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because across the field, Luffy is waving at you, smiling so wide it makes your chest feel warm. He doesn’t care that people avoid you. He doesn’t care that you’re “scary”, to him, you’re just you.

He runs over, plopping down next to you with a grin “Whatcha doin’?”

You raise an eyebrow “Sitting.”

Luffy gasps dramatically “No way. That’s crazy.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder. He just laughs, leaning against you without a care in the world.

For a while, you sit there together. The sun is warm, the breeze is nice, and Luffy is… Luffy. He hums a little song under his breath, playing with your fingers like he’s fascinated by them.

Then, he says “You know, you’re kinda scary.”

You pause “Oh?”

He nods “Yeah. Like, super scary. When you fight, people freak out. Even Zoro said you’re the last person he’d wanna fight seriously.”

You wait for the usual words to follow. Monster. Freak. Too much.

But instead, Luffy grins and squeezes your hand.

“I love it.”

Your heart stops for a second.

Luffy keeps talking, like he hasn’t just turned your entire world upside down “It’s awesome! You’re so strong, and you do that cool shadowy thing, and when you get serious, even the bad guys look like they’re gonna cry.” He laughs, eyes shining “It’s really cool.”

You don’t answer right away. Because what is there to say?

For so long, your power was a curse. Something that made you different. Something that made you alone.

But here, with Luffy, it’s just another part of you.

“…You’re an idiot” you mumble, looking away.

Luffy laughs “Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes “Unfortunately.”

He gasps “What?!”

You shove his face away, and he just laughs harder, wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. He clings to you, laughing and warm, and you sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

But the truth is, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Because you are strong. And scary. And Luffy loves it.

And that is more than enough.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro knows strength when he sees it.

He can sense it in the way people move, in the way they breathe. Some fighters hesitate, some carry doubt, but you don’t.

From the moment he meets you, he can tell. You don’t just fight. You hunt. And for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off you.

It starts on an island known for its warriors. The crew stops to rest, but Zoro wants a challenge. A real fight. So when he hears rumors of a swordsfighter so deadly that even bounty hunters avoid them, he doesn’t hesitate.

But when he finds you, it’s not what he expects.

You’re not some old master or a towering brute. You’re just… you. Sitting under a tree, sharpening your blade like you have all the time in the world.

Zoro stops a few feet away, arms crossed “You’re the one they’re all scared of?”

You glance up. Your eyes are sharp, your aura heavy, and for a second, it’s like the temperature drops.

Zoro grins. Oh, yeah. This is gonna be good.

You sigh, standing up “You here to fight me too?”

He smirks “Yeah. Unless you’re scared.”

Something flickers in your gaze, something dark and dangerous. Then you smile, slow and sharp “You’ll regret that.”

And then you move.

It happens fast. One second, you’re standing still. The next, your own blade is inches from his neck. Zoro barely blocks in time, his instincts the only thing keeping his head attached.

His blood rushes.

You don’t fight like normal swordsfighters. Your movements are smooth, calculated, but there’s something more. Something predatory.

Zoro grins “Not bad.”

You tilt your head “Not bad?”

And then you attack for real.

The clash of steel echoes through the trees. Zoro meets each strike, but he can feel the difference in the way you fight. You don’t waste movement. You don’t test him. You go straight for the kill.

Most people would find that terrifying.

Zoro finds it hot as hell.

His smirk widens “You don’t hold back, huh?”

You don’t answer, but there’s something in your eyes... curiosity, maybe. Like you’re testing him.

Good. He likes a challenge.

The fight goes on, fast and brutal, but in the end, neither of you go all out. It’s just a taste, a promise of something more. When you finally lower your blade, Zoro does the same.

You study him for a moment, then nod “You’re not bad either.”

Zoro huffs a laugh “High praise.”

You sheath your sword and turn away “I’m going back to town. You coming or what?”

He watches you go, smirking to himself.

Yeah. He’s definitely interested.

Years Later – Zoro should probably be concerned that his partner is one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met.

But he’s not.

In fact, it just makes him like you more.

Right now, you’re standing on the deck of the Sunny, staring down a group of bounty hunters dumb enough to challenge you. You haven’t even drawn your sword yet, but the way you look at them, sharp, unreadable, deadly, makes them hesitate.

Zoro leans against the railing, watching with amusement. He already knows how this will go.

One of the bounty hunters shifts nervously “Y-you gonna fight or what?”

You tilt your head, smiling faintly “You first.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then they charge. Big mistake.

Zoro watches as you dodge effortlessly, your blade a blur. The fight lasts seconds. By the time you sheath your sword, your opponents are on the ground, groaning in pain.

Silence. Then, Luffy cheers from the mast “That was awesome!”

Zoro smirks. Damn right it was.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow “You just gonna watch?”

He shrugs with a smirk “I was enjoying watching... and didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You walk over, stopping in front of him “You’re getting lazy.”

He scoffs “Oh yeah?”

You lean in, voice low “Yeah. Maybe I should fight you next.”

Zoro feels a familiar rush of excitement. His hand twitches toward his swords “You sure you can keep up?”

You smirk “Try me.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Lost in you, in the fight, in the thrill of having someone who meets him blow for blow.

You’re terrifying. And beautiful. And stronger than hell.

And he wouldn’t have you any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has seen all kinds of people. Beautiful women, powerful warriors, even actual monsters. But he’s never met anyone like you.

You meet in a quiet, dimly lit tavern. The crew stops for a meal, and Sanji, always on the lookout for interesting faces, notices you immediately.

You sit in the darkest corner, barely touching your drink. Your posture is relaxed, but there’s something wrong about it, like you could strike at any moment. The air around you feels heavy.

People glance at you and quickly look away. A group of bounty hunters at a nearby table seem tense, whispering among themselves.

Sanji watches as one of them inches toward the door. His hands are shaking.

That’s when he realizes, they’re afraid of you. A lot.

Sanji takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Interesting.

“Hey cook, what are you doing there, standing like an idiot.” Zoro says while they all sit at a table.

He’s about to turn back to his crew and reply to that marimo when the bartender makes a mistake and accidentally spills a drink on your sleeve.

The entire tavern stops breathing.

The bartender goes pale “I—I’m so sorry—”

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. Just slowly, carefully, you pick up a napkin and wipe your sleeve.

The silence stretches.

Sanji almost laughs at how scared everyone looks. What, do they think you’re gonna kill him for a drink spill?

The bartender swallows “Please, let me—”

“It’s fine” you say.

Your voice is quiet. Smooth. Too calm.

The bartender flinches anyway.

Sanji watches as you set the napkin down, push your drink away, and stand. You turn toward the door, and the crowd parts around you, everyone desperate to get out of your way.

Sanji, curious as hell, does the exact opposite.

He steps into your path, smiling “Leaving so soon?”

You stop and lift your gaze, as everyone there gasps.

Most people can’t meet Sanji’s eyes for long. His confidence, his sharpness, it makes them squirm. But you?

You stare right through him.

For the first time in a long time, Sanji feels his heart skip.

“…Who are you?” he asks.

You tilt your head slightly “Does it matter?”

That voice. Calm. Slow. Like a knife dragging against silk.

Sanji exhales smoke, smirking “I’d like to think so.”

You study him. And for some reason, he feels like he’s the one being hunted.

Then you smile, small, unreadable “See you around… cook.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

Sanji stands there, heart pounding as he thinks, oh, I’m in trouble.

Years Later – Sanji likes to think he doesn’t scare easy. He’s faced warlords, monsters, and the wrath of Nami’s fist.

But nothing terrifies him more than the way you just appear.

“Sanji.”

“GAH—!”

He jumps, nearly dropping the plate he’s holding. You’re suddenly right next to him, quiet as a shadow.

He clutches his chest “How do you do that?!”

You blink “Do what?”

“That!” He gestures at you wildly “I didn’t hear you at all! You just—just materialized!”

You tilt your head, amused “I walked in.”

“No, you haunted in.”

You hum in thought “Maybe you should pay more attention.”

Sanji groans, running a hand through his hair “You’re gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun,” you say, smirking slightly “I’d miss this.”

Sanji pauses. Then, with a slow, dramatic sigh, he pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen at first, but he’s patient. He knows you’re not used to softness.

When you relax, he kisses the top of your head “You’re cruel, y’know that?”

“Am I?”

“You make my heart stop every damn day.”

You smile against his chest “Good.”

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law prides himself on being composed. No matter the situation, he never loses control.

But then he meets you, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something close to unease.

It happens on a stormy night. The Heart Pirates dock at a quiet island, and Law sets off alone, drawn by rumors of a dangerous individual hiding in town. Some say you’re a ghost, others call you a demon.

He doesn’t believe in superstition. But he believes in threats.

So when he finds you in the ruins outside of town, standing perfectly still, eyes dark and unreadable, he watches you carefully.

“You’ve been causing trouble” he says, testing your reaction.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The wind howls through the ruins, but you remain as still as a statue.

Most people shift under his gaze. But you? You don’t even blink.

Law narrows his eyes “Who are you?”

Finally, you tilt your head “You already know, don’t you?”

Your voice is calm. Steady. Wrong.

It reminds him of the quiet before a scalpel slices skin.

Law tightens his grip on Kikoku “What’s your ability?”

You step forward, and the ground cracks beneath your foot. A shadow flickers at the edge of his vision, stretching unnaturally.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

Law doesn’t flinch. But something deep in his chest tightens.

Because he knows that feeling. The quiet hum of danger.

And yet, instead of fear, he feels something else. Intrigue. He's actually really attracted and he can't deny it.

It takes Law a while to notice. To really notice.

Because you’re fearless in battle. You fight like a force of nature, silent and merciless, the kind of presence that makes enemies pray they don’t cross your path. You don’t just win fights, you end them.

And yet, when you’re with the crew, you’re… different.

Law catches it in small moments.

The way you ruffle Bepo’s fur when you think no one’s looking. The way you always make sure Penguin and Shachi get extra food after a long day. The way you quietly fix things around the ship before anyone else notices they’re broken.

And he feels it most with him. Like when you sit beside him in the submarine’s dimly lit halls, comfortable in silence, just existing next to him without expectation. Or when you lean against him after a rough mission, exhaustion making you a little softer, a little less guarded.

Or, most obviously, when you think he’s asleep.

He catches you once, fingers brushing against his hair, barely there, like you’re memorizing the shape of him.

He should say something. Call you out. But he doesn’t.

Because for some reason, the realization that the person who terrifies even seasoned killers, is so unbelievably gentle with him?

It does something to him.

Something dangerous.

Years Later – Being in a relationship with you comes with some complications.

Like right now.

“Sit still, damn it” Law mutters, pressing bandages against your side.

You sigh “It’s just a scratch.”

Law glares at you “It’s a stab wound.”

You shrug “Same thing.”

He clenches his jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him “I swear, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

You smirk “And yet, I’m still your favorite.”

Law groans, but he doesn’t deny it.

Because despite everything, your terrifying strength, your eerie presence, your complete disregard for injuries, he can’t help but be drawn to you.

You are the only person who unsettles him. And somehow, you’ve also become the one person he trusts the most.

He huffs, finishing the bandages “Try not to die.”

You grin, leaning in “Worried about me, doctor?”

“Tch” He flicks your forehead “Shut up.”

And despite himself, he smiles.

The next time you get hurt, Law doesn’t even bother hiding his frustration.

“You’re reckless,” he mutters, tightening the bandage around your arm “One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You watch him, amused “Would you miss me?”

He scowls “Shut up”

You smirk “You would.”

Law clicks his tongue, looking away. He hates how smug you sound. Hates it even more because you’re right.

Instead of answering, he sighs, finishing the bandage. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he presses a hand against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re lucky I like you” he mutters.

For the first time, you freeze.

Then, slowly, you smile. And Law knows he’s in so much trouble.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

On a nameless island, a pit stop for pirates and criminals alike, Ace hears the rumors first, stories about a lone warrior, someone so deadly that even bounty hunters won’t go near them.

He thinks it sounds like fun.

So when he walks into a bar and sees everyone stiffening at the mere sight of someone sitting in the corner, he knows he’s found you.

You sit alone, idly spinning a knife between your fingers. Your expression is calm, unreadable, but the tension in the room is thick.

Ace grins, making his way over “Mind if I sit?”

You don’t look up “Do what you want.”

He plops down across from you, resting his chin in his hand “Y’know, people are real scared of you.”

Silence.

Ace watches you carefully. You don’t move like a normal fighter. There’s something off about the way you breathe, the way your presence lingers like a shadow stretching too far.

It should probably freak him out.

Instead, it makes his blood rush.

“So,” he continues, smirking “What’s your deal? You a bounty hunter? Are you here to fight?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your gaze is sharp, calculating, like you’re dissecting him without lifting a finger.

"I was just curious who everyone was talking about, turns out it was you."

“…You’re not scared of me?”

Ace grins wider “Should I be?”

The knife in your hand stops spinning and or a split second, the air feels heavy.

Then, slowly, you smirk “Maybe? You tell me. That's what you came here for, isn't it?”

Ace laughs. Loud, bright, genuine.

And just like that, he decides that he actually finds you very attractive, and isn't letting you go so easily.

Years Later – Ace still remembers the first time he saw you fight.

He has always been the kind of guy who laughs in the face of danger.

He doesn’t hesitate to charge into battle, doesn’t flinch at the thought of death. He’s faced warlords, marines, even entire armies.

But when he saw you fighting? For the first time in his life, he felt like prey, even if you weren't fighting him.

How you moved like a phantom, striking fast, silent, merciless. How your enemies barely had time to scream before they hit the ground.

Everyone calls you terrifying. A monster. A nightmare in a human form.

And yet, right now, curled up against him, grumbling sleepily as he wraps his arms around you Ace can’t help but laugh.

You groan “What? You going crazy now?”

“You,” he teases, resting his chin on top of your head “You’re supposed to be the scariest person alive, but look at you.”

You swat at his chest “Shut up.”

Ace just grins, pulling you closer “Nah. I like reminding you.”

"You're always so annoying..." you say turning to not let him see you blush.

Because despite the way you fight, despite the way you terrify your enemies, Ace has seen what no one else has.

How you tuck into his blankets when you're alone. How you always make sure the crew eats before you do. How you fuss over him when he pretends his injuries don’t hurt.

You act all tough, all sharp edges and killing intent.

But Ace knows the truth.

You’re soft. At least, with him.

And that makes him fall for you even more.

He turn your head so that he can see you and with a smirk he says "Don't worry you're hot both ways, I don't mind your soft side at all"

Then he kiss your forehead and you try to hide again, making him laugh softly.

── .✦ Shanks:

Shanks has seen a lot in his life.

He’s fought warlords, crossed paths with the most dangerous men on the seas, and stared death in the face with a grin.

But when he meets you, he realizes he’s never met someone who could scare him and turn him on at the same time.

It happens in a crowded port town, where pirates and mercenaries walk side by side, tension thick in the air. Shanks and his crew are enjoying a round of drinks when Benn nudges him, nodding toward a shadowed corner of the bar.

“Oi, I found out that one’s got quite the reputation.”

Shanks follows his gaze and sees you.

You sit alone, posture relaxed but too still. There’s something about you... something in the way the people around you refuse to meet your eyes, in the way the bartender serves you with hands that tremble, scared to even do his own job.

The crew isn’t easily shaken, but even they seem wary.

Shanks just grins. Because if there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s a challenge.

“Think I’ll go say hi.”

Benn sighs “Of course you will. Never doubted it.”

Shanks strolls over, drink in hand, and slides into the seat across from you without asking.

You don’t react. Just lift your gaze and meet his like you’re peering into his soul.

He whistles “You’ve got quite the stare.”

“You’ve got quite the nerve...” you reply smoothly.

Shanks chuckles “I get that a lot, actually.”

Silence stretches between you. He expects you to get annoyed, to tell him to leave, but surprisingly you don’t.

You just watch him. Measuring. Calculating. And damn if it doesn’t send a thrill up his spine.

Finally, you speak “You’re not scared of me.”

Shanks smirks, tipping his drink toward you “Should I be?”

Your eyes glint with something sharp. Dangerous. Interested.

“Maybe not, but who knows.”

Shanks leans forward, grinning “I like my odds.”

"I can see it..."

Years Later - “You’re doing it again” Benn mutters.

Shanks blinks “Doing what?”

Benn nods toward you. You’re across the deck, casually sharpening a blade, the crew giving you a very wide berth.

“You’re staring like a love-struck idiot” Benn sighs.

Shanks laughs “Can you blame me?”

Because despite years of being with you, despite knowing exactly how terrifying you can be, Shanks still finds himself completely captivated whenever you're fighting or not.

He’s seen you end fights with a single strike, watched entire battlefields fall silent at your presence. You are ruthless when necessary, the kind of person who doesn’t waste time with threats, just action.

And yet when you think no one’s watching, he sees the little things.

How you make sure the younger crew members eat first. How you adjust someone’s coat when they’re not paying attention. How, late at night, when exhaustion weighs heavy, you let yourself lean into him.

And Shanks?

He eats it up.

Because out of everyone in the world, you choose to be soft only with him.

Later that night, as you both sit on the deck watching the waves, Shanks stretches, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes but don’t push him away.

He grins “Y’know, for someone so scary, you’re kinda sweet.”

You turn, raising a brow “Wanna say that again?”

Shanks chuckles “Not if I value my life, and I do.”

You smirk, leaning against him just a little.

And that small, rare gesture is worth more to him than any treasure. He's totally in your hands, can you believe it? Because even he something looks at himself and shake his own head at the thought, but at the end who cares? He's with the most attractive person out there.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo isn’t the type to scare easily.

He has fought world nobles, infiltrated enemy territory, and stared death in the face more times than he can count. Fear isn’t something he entertains, it’s something he’s learned to push aside, to control.

But when he meets you?

For the first time in a long while, he actually hesitates.

It happens in a revolution-friendly town, the kind of place where people whisper about rebellion but fear retaliation too much to act. Sabo’s here on business, but what he doesn’t expect is to hear a name spoken in hushed, almost fearful tones.

A name that isn’t a government official or a bounty hunter, but yours.

“Who are they?” he asks a local, intrigued.

The man pales “Someone you don’t want to cross.”

Sabo just smirks “Is that so?”

He should probably be cautious. Should probably listen to the fear in the man’s voice.

But instead, he just wants to meet you more.

You’re exactly as the rumors say. You're cold, calculating and dangerous.

When Sabo finds you, you don’t attack him. You just watch him. Still. Silent. Your presence alone feels heavy, like the weight of an unseen blade resting against his throat, daring him to make a wrong move.

Most people would crack under it.

Sabo just grins “Heard a lot about you.”

You don’t react “Likewise.”

He hums, studying you. Most would be unnerved by your unwavering stare, the cold calculation in your eyes. But Sabo finds it fascinating. Finds you fascinating.

He hums, studying you “And? What’s your verdict?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, assessing him like he’s prey “Too early to tell. I don't judge based on rumors.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, a quiet tension settling between you. Sabo knows he should be cautious, he knows he’s facing someone whose strength is being feared even among revolutionaries.

But all he can think is — Damn. They’re kinda hot.

Years Later – It’s funny.

Everyone fears you. The Revolutionary Army sees you as a force of nature, one of their strongest, deadliest members. You’re efficient in battle, merciless when necessary. People whisper about you in the same breath as high-ranking officers, speaking of you like a phantom, something to be respected, but never approached.

But Sabo sees more than just the deadly aura that makes people tread lightly.

He sees the way your eyes gleam with amusement when a mission goes exactly as planned. He sees the way you tilt your head in interest, studying your enemies as if they’re puzzles to be solved before being discarded. He sees the way you move, every motion precise, effortless, a dance with death that you never lose.

And he loves it.

Loves the sharp edges, the lethal grace, the way you make his heart race, not with fear, but with something far more intoxicating.

And yet, he also sees the moments no one else does.

You, sitting beside him late at night, absentmindedly tracing circles against his palm.

You, making sure Koala doesn’t overwork herself, leaving her favorite snacks on her desk without a word.

You, rolling your eyes but still letting Sabo pull you into a hug after a long mission, even though your reputation could probably shatter just from being seen indulging him.

“You know,” he teases one night, tilting his head, “for someone so scary, you’re kind of a softie.”

You give him a flat look “Take that back.”

Sabo laughs, eyes gleaming with challenge “Nope. Never gonna happen.”

You grumble something under your breath but don’t pull away, and he counts that as a win.

Because out of everyone in the world, he knows you’re only ever like this with him.

And as much as he adores every part of you, it’s that razor-sharp danger in your eyes, that power in your every movement, that makes his blood sing.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

And damn, does he love you for it.

── .✦ Crocodile:

Crocodile has met aaaall kinds of people.

Cowards who grovel at his feet. Fools who think they can challenge him. Liars who smile while plotting his downfall.

But you? You don’t fit into any category.

Because when he first meets you, standing over the broken bodies of bounty hunters, face calm, eyes cold, he doesn’t see fear. He doesn’t see arrogance.

He sees power.

And for the first time in a long while, he’s interested.

When in Rainbase, long after the fall of Baroque Works, Crocodile has been rebuilding, regaining influence, cutting down anyone foolish enough to think he’s lost his edge.

And then you show up.

A ghost in the desert, they call you. A storm without warning. The kind of person who doesn’t make threats, just leaves bodies in their wake.

Crocodile hears the whispers. He almost ignores them.

Until one of his men ends up dead.

Then it's when he decides it’s time to meet you himself.

He finds you in a back alley, wiping blood from your blade.

You don’t look surprised to see him.

“You’ve been causing many problems” he says, exhaling smoke.

You tilt your head, unconcerned “That depends on who you ask.”

Crocodile’s lips curl into something amused. He’s used to people trembling in his presence. But you? You just stand there, watching him with the same detached intensity one might give a corpse.

It should irritate him.

Instead, it makes his blood thrill.

“I don’t like loose ends,” he says “So tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?”

For the first time, you smile.

Not kind. Not warm.

Just sharp. Cold. Dangerous.

“You could try, I'm happy if you try.”

The air shifts.

Crocodile’s grip on his cigar tightens. His instincts, honed from years of surviving the worst of the worst, tell him that fighting you would not be easy.

And he likes that.

Years Later – Most people don’t look him in the eye.

Most people don’t speak without permission, don’t challenge his decisions, don’t dare to stand too close.

You do all of that.

And Crocodile lets you.

Because unlike the weaklings who grovel before him, you don’t need protection. You don’t need his power to survive.

You’re strong. Cold. Unshaken by blood or war.

And that makes you the only person truly worth his time.

One night, you’re both on the balcony of his hideout, looking down at the city below.

Crocodile exhales smoke, glancing at you “Most people would rather die than be in my company.”

You don’t even blink “Most people are weak.”

He chuckles, low and dark “That so?”

You finally meet his gaze, and in your eyes, he sees something sharp. Something dangerous.

Something that matches him.

He smirks.

Because finally, after years of dealing with fools, liars, and cowards, he’s found someone who is exactly his kind of monster.

[gojoidyll]

MYDEI GETS ANGRY AT YOU, or when Mydei says something to you that's hurtful when all you're trying to do is show that you care.

angst, mydei x fem!reader, arguments, mydei is kind of mean here, fluff at the end, etc.

“I- I’m sorry Mydei, I really didn’t mean anything wrong by-“

He silenced you by taking a step forward, that lone action striking fear in you as you took a step back, the back your thighs hitting the bed as you lost your balance and ended up falling into the mattress, but you were quick to sit up as Mydei looked down at you.

“You’re always sorry,” he bit, “but you don’t understand at all. You do not understand the choices I have to make or the responsibilities that I bear, and yet you preach about how I need rest or need to take a break when you don’t even know what I do to keep you and everyone else safe,” he snapped at you, barred his teeth, lashed out.

You knew he was stressed, and all you wanted to do was to help…

“I- I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out as tears began to bubble up at the corners of your eyes before cascading down your cheeks. Your lips doing that quivering thing they always do when you start to cry ugly tears.

“Tch, and now you’re crying,” he turned away from you, “if you stopped nagging at me and stopped being so damn clingy and acting like you know what’s best for me then you wouldn’t be crying so damn much.”

He went to leave and you called after him, asking him where he was going.

“Out, your crying is annoying. I need some peace and quiet since you talk so much.”

You bit back anything you had left in your mouth in fear that he would turn around and have even more to share with you. And when you couldn’t hear his footsteps echoing any longer and even a loud slam of a door, you fell back into the bed, your tears coming out faster and harder than before.

When you see him again, you’ll apologize. You didn’t want him to be angry at you for long.

You curled up on his side of the bed, your hands reaching for the covers as you pulled them over you in a mock embrace. You sniffled as you closed your eyes in hopes that sleep could put your mind at ease…

Meanwhile, Mydei was taking his frustration out on multiple training dummys which didn’t go unnoticed by a certain deliverer.

“Don’t you think they had enough,” Phainon mused as he watched Mydei hack yet another head off. The straw made head falling a little away from them due to how much force Mydei had used to cut it off.

“Not now deliverer. I’m not in the mood.”

Phainon watched as Mydei cut off another dummy’s head, his eyes scanning the man carefully – he observed Mydei’s body language, saw how his fist would punch a hole into a dummy’s stomach straight through before moving onto the next. Only one person could get Mydei so worked up.

“Did you fight with your wife again?”

Phainon had to hold back a laugh at the way Mydei so visibly tensed. It was just too easy to read the kremnoan man.

“Well,” Phainon pressed, “you should make up with her soon, fighting with her will do you no good.”

Mydei unclenched his fists before sighing heavily, “I do not believe she wishes to see me.”

“Why is that?”

Mydei glanced to Phainon and weighed his options, but decided to talk to the man anyway as he was … the closest person he could talk to about this. So he recounted the argument with Phainon, and much to his displeasure, by just looking at Phainon’s face he could see just how much he messed up.

“Friend, I am going to say this as kindly as possible… you messed up.”

“Tch,” Mydei crossed his arms over his chest as he looked away, “I already know that.”

Phainon sighed, “how long has it been since the argument?”

“This morning.”

It was already well passed noon.

Phainon shook his head as he gestured to the exit of the training grounds, “you better hurry on back to her.”

Mydei didn’t even need anymore convincing as he rushed home. Many in the streets wondered what at the kremnoan prince in such a rush, but he paid them no mind as he ran home to you.

Bursting through the doors, he went into each room he came across, but you were nowhere in sight. It wasn’t until he reached your shared room did he find you under the covers and curled up on his side of the bed, right where he had left you. Were you waiting for him to come back?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he went up to you and kneeled beside the bed. He reached for your face as he brushed the stray hair from your face, your eyes were puffy and cheeks dried with tears. Regret was filled inside of him.

“Y/n,” he called for your gently as he ran his fingers along your cheek, the cool metal of his gloves waking you up as you groggily opened your eyes.

“Mydei?”

When you saw his face, your eyes were immediately started to fill with tears again, he was quick to wrap you up in a hug as he pulled you close into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he tried not to strain those words as he apologized, tried to even make it sound soothing as he held you, “please do not cry. I was a cruel man with what I said to you, all because you were worrying about my well-being.”

You sat up a little and wrapped your arms around his waist, “I’m sorry too,” you said quietly, “I knew you were stressed and tried to help instead of giving you space.”

Mydei shook his head, “I don’t ever want you to give me space. I should have listened to you, please forgive me.”

He knew words alone would not fix what he had said and done. He knew that he scared you today, he could see it in your eyes earlier that morning when you were trying to back away from him. You were … afraid … of him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

[jjsloverre]

best kept secret - jm

in which… jj is secretly dating pope’s sister, thinking he could keep it on the low; it showed to be harder than expected.

contains… angst, arguing, smut, unprotected p in v, getting caught, happy ending etc etc (not really proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“fuck baby keep goin…” jj moaned as you bounced on his cock. he put his hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning out. “sh-shh ma, gotta keep you quit before your brother hears you… you don’t want pope to hear you moaning my name do you now?” he taunted as he put a smack to your ass.

“this ass is so fuckin’ fat baby.. shit i’m not gonna last long like this…” with a few more thrusts, jj pulled out of you, releasing his sticky cum all over your stomach. “i-i love you.” you whispered to him.

jj paused for a moment, realizing what you just said to him. “y-you love me? already? i mean it’s not a bad thing… i mean i like you so fuckin’ much don’t doubt that, just don’t know if i love you yet…” he stammered, the embarrassment filling the quiet stuffy room. “no i get it, i said it pretty fast huh?” you tried to play off the pained look in your eyes. “sorry jayj.. just forget about it!”

he immediately sensed how embarrassed you felt about the confession. without hesitation, he cuddled you into his arms. “don’t feel embarrassed sweet girl… i love how confident you are in telling how you feel, just like your brother a bit huh? don’t feel embarrassed ok? saying those words to me… mean the absolute world and i’m so happy you feel that way.”

there were footsteps at the door suddenly. then… you heard your brothers voice. “y/n? hey where are you? and have you seen jj?” he shouted. “fuck… i was supposed to meet them a while ago, i wish i could take care of you baby i’m sorry, ima make it up tho, promise.” jj whispered and quickly got up to hide in the bathroom.

“i’m in here!” you yelled back. quickly getting some clothes on you opened the door. “you look like shit! anyway we’re all meeting at the beach so are you coming?”

“yeah i am, let me just fix myself up since i somehow look like shit asshole.”

pope laughed and exited the room. jj emerged from the bathroom as you closed the door. “see you at the beach” giving you a few pecks to your lips and rushed out.

that boy was something else.

★

the beach wasn’t a great idea for jj, not by a long shot. looking at you, in that beautiful bikini, he secretly bought you that green one just so you both could match and damn did he do a good job.

a few surfs later and suggestive looks, jj had enough. when pope wasn’t looking, he took your hand. “baby i missed you.. i can’t fuckin’ take it…” he starts a trail of kisses to your neck. “jj my brother is right there!”

“then you just gotta bend over and take it quietly don’t you hm?” he takes you to the twinkie and immediately yanks your bottoms off and bends you over. “just gotta stay quiet, m’kay baby?” with that, he pulled his swim trunks down, revealing his hard, leaking cock. pumping it a few times he starts to push toward in your tight heat. “oh fuck oh fuck baby shit… just like that… cmon bounce that ass on me.”

“it’s so good baby!” you moaned, jj clamped his hand over your mouth. “m-ma shhh they’re gonna hear you.”

jj started to thrust his hips faster chasing his orgasm. he slipped a hand between your thighs and rubbed your puffy clit. with a cry of his name, you came hard on his cock. and before you knew it, your brother was right there; fuming. “what the fuck are you two doing?!”

“fuck… couldn’t even get my nut off…” he gently pulls out of you, careful not to hurt you. he grabbed his shirt and wrapped it around your bare bottom. “look pope just calm down and-”

“shut the fuck up! y/n. take a walk, now.”

“what why? why can’t i stay-”

pope interrupted again. “take a fucking walk.” you fell silent and began to walk away. before you went, jj gave you a quick kiss. “i’ll take the fall ok? you get questioned, don’t say shit, see you soon beautiful.” when you walked away pope looked at jj with full hatred.

“my fucking sister? you’ve actually lost your damn mind jj? end it now.” jj shook his head vehemently. “fuck no! she’s my girlfriend!” pope scoffed. “girlfriend my ass. for how long? we both know once you get bored you’ll just dump her and you won’t do my sister like that!”

“where’s the faith in your best fucking friend! we’ve been dating for like a year and i’ve been treating her with so much love and respect! i love that girl pope! i love your sister… i-i love y/n, if you can’t except that then i don’t know fuck you but…” he paused for just a moment to choose his next words. “don’t go off on her, just tryna show her happiness, and from the looks of it i’m doin’ a damn good job.”

pope stayed silent for a long time, then spoke. “end it.” then walked away. “fuck…” jj muttered. he’d hope pope would understand but that clearly wasn’t the case. he wanted to have a real and public relationship with you, loving you out loud and not in secret.

“is it bad?” you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. “nah baby, i got it under control. wanna go to the chateau for a bit? wanna talk to you.”

“he told you to break up with me didn’t he?”

“well yeah, don’t mean ima do it. i love you girl you know that.” oh shit. he realized he finally said those three words to you. “you meant that?” you asked him. he shrugged. “fuck it, yeah i did. i meant to tell you in a better way, was tryna get popes blessing before the words came out but looks like it was a different plan for us huh?”

“i guess so, i love you too!”

★

a week has passed since pope caught you and jj. he was more than the word angry, popping in on the both of you, making you distance yourself from jj, the overprotective brother kicking in. one day, jj snuck through your window. “ma… i can’t do this anymore…”

your heart broke into a million pieces. your brother had caused your boyfriend to finally see that his antics were too much. you were about to cry until he spoke again. “can i sleep with you tonight? i can’t stand not being under you 24/7, i miss you so much baby; so damn much i need you.”

“you made me think you were gonna leave me!” you spat.

“and what makes you think i’d leave you over what pope says or thinks? i don’t listen to anyone, why would i listen to him about who i decide to give my love to? and occasionally make love to.”

“you admit you make love to me huh?” he laughs. “ma you know that’s the only thing i do.”

after 30 minutes of laughing and catching up, pope walks in. “why the fuck are you here jj!” this time you spoke up. “pope stop it, he’s my boyfriend and he’s been my boyfriend and he’s gonna stay like that, he hasn’t hurt me, he’s a sweet guy and i love him… please support me in this one thing?”

a moment of silence passes by and pope finally spoke. “fine.” then he leaves.

“you are a work of art baby, i love you.”

“i love you more.” you replied and sealed your love with a kiss.

your brother finally accepted your relationship, you’re officially happy.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

a/n: this one is a long oneeeee! but i love love! so chris fic tomorrow?

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @chalahyung01 @eddxemxnson @bee-43 @kieeslove @ethanthequeefqueen @sophand4n4 @superlegend216 @anacamofficial @imsiriuslyreal @sttaejoon-blog @moonywhisp3rs @always-reading @maybankslover @slut4rafecameronn @leaseyes @glitterybombshell @aaliyahsturniolo @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees

[thjsrots]

princess reader x thief vi drabble

; warnings: riding (tribbing?), top!vi x sub!reader, biting, drool, hate fucking but not really, forbidden sex

As the future ruler of Piltover, you had many responsibilities. Helping keep the people safe, making harsh decisions, and putting on your best face for everyone were some of the few that mattered most. As time consuming and stressful the position was, one could only take on so much at a time without some kind of… relief.

Sure, masturbating did it for you most of the time, but it never quite reached that itch that still buzzed at you after you finished. No matter what you tried; your fingers, toys, pillows, there was always that spot you just couldn’t pleasure enough. You craved something more, something real, someone real. Not just anyone—

Violet Lanes.

She was a cold hard thief, wanted by your parents, who put a hefty bounty over her. Your citizens tore their own heads off, running around like crazed chickens trying to find her and get the reward. But Vi was smart, she knew her way around Piltover, and knew her way around you. While everyone searched high and low for her, she was right above their heads in your room, gripping onto your ass as you shamelessly rut into her cunt. The room was heavy with the squelching noises of mixed wetness, pants, moans, and the smell of forbidden sex. She laid there, working her hips against your drippy cunt as you rode her. She had a smirk on her stupid, hot face, looking oh so proud of herself.

“Geez, Princess. You’re quite greedy, aren’t you?” Vi said in between pants, guiding your thrusts with her hands, making sure she rubbed against just the right spot, making your breath hitch.

You could tell she was doing it on purpose, trying to break down your barriers. Your eyebrows furrowed, fighting the pleasure as best as you could to show disdain, teeth gritting before you spoke. “What—Mmh! Whatever… do you mean?” Your bud was constantly rubbing against hers, eyes rolling back as your hands gripped onto her breasts.

“Well, think of all those poor citizens out there looking for me right now. Ripping their hair out with frustration, and I’m right here, letting their precious Princess ride me. And your parents, Gods don’t even get me started on—”

You cut off her taunting by crashing your lips into hers, sliding your tongue in her mouth as you savored her saliva, making her groan in the process. You pulled away, string stuck between yours and her lips, feeling a warmness spread throughout your lower stomach. “Vi, shut up… S’close…!”

She scoffed, opening her legs up more so you could grind against her whole cunt, your clit smothered with her juices. Your back arched, moans growing louder until she reached over and stuffed her fingers in your mouth. “Actually, I think it’s you who needs to shut up.” Your tongue swirled around her salty digits, sucking on them as your orgasm crept up on you. Vi’s egotistical eyes were fixed on nothing but you, completely eating up the fact that you were naked and vulnerable. She probably felt like she one upped the system, but for some reason, that thought made you even closer. The friction between the two of you was indescribable, unbearable, better than any gourmet meal or anything money could buy. This is what your body so badly needed, what it was craving. It craved the worst person in Piltover, the one that could fuck up your whole royal life if anyone found out.

This orgasm wasn’t like the ones you’d had during your alone time, this one rode out. You felt it at your thighs at first, a tingle that quickly turned into bursting jolts all throughout your body. You stiffened up, drooling and biting on her fingers, damn near drawing blood as you came all over her cunt. You didn’t care how pathetic you looked to her in that moment, you were drunk off nothing but Violet. She reached hers soon after, throwing her head back as she felt your hole dripping cum along her sensitive clit. You threw your body on her, sweaty skin touching, panting as her arms wrapped around you. Your body tensed up, scoffing at her touch, looking up at her face that had a grin plastered on it. You scoffed and glared. “You know, I truly hate you.”

She laughed, poking your nose, making you scrunch it up. You pulled away, sitting up and crossing your arms, staring at the naked, stupidly sexy woman laying in your satin sheets. “You sure about that, Princess?”

should i write more? 🤨

[ghostgirl-22]

how do you feel about writing dom/sub stuff 👀?

i feel like i could see art and tashi having a dynamic like that or art and patrick. it would be interesting if he had a relationship like that with each of them, one past and one present.

I feel like it’s not my strong suit but I shall try it for you <3

CW: 18+ NSFW D/s, feminization, Art being the switch he was born to be probably, not proofread

—-

Patrick talks a big game. Really loud and brash. sometimes reckless and messy, just like a spoiled rich kid.  If Art didn’t know any better he’d probably be intimidated. But Patrick’s not intimidating,  actually he’s kinda easy to control. 

It’s not like Art did it on purpose. He didn’t set out to learn how to make boys do what he wanted them to. But he was kinda young when he realized how easy it was. All he had to do is act a little bit needy and boys would do whatever he asked. Even Patrick. Especially Patrick. 

Art barely has to do anything. Even when Patrick’s being a brat. Art pouts for just a minute and all Patrick’s bravado just goes out the window.

“Fine you can have my M&Ms you loser.” 

“Okay you can borrow my hoodie for practice, just don’t mess it up. It’s my favorite.”

“I can show you how to touch yourself so it feels even better… if you want.” Like it’s nothing.  

Art treats him nice enough. Patrick wants the thing that most boys want from him. He wants a kiss. He wants to sleep in the same bed. 

“If I let you pick the movie… will choke me a little?” Is all Patrick really wants.

Wants Art to push him down on the bed. Tie him up with one of his soft silky expensive dress ties. So he’s face down on the bed, ass up. Wants Art to slip his knee between Patrick’s thighs and tease him till he’s gagging for it. Art can do that for him. Sometimes Art will literally gag him too… if he’s talking too much shit.

Sometimes he’ll play with Patrick for hours. Teasing his entrance. Cupping his balls. Taking the toy dildo he thought Art didn’t know he had and sliding it inside him. turning it on to vibrate. All of it before fucking him slow. Taking his sweet time. Until he can’t.

Patrick always teases him because he’s fast… too fast (“you’re like a fucking bunny rabbit”)…and woopsie… Art loses it all before Patrick can finish once. “I’m sorry.” Art whines. 

“You’re not fucking sorry,” Patrick moans, helplessly. But Art is so sorry he does it all over again, just to make it up to him.

When he finally lets Patrick cum he’ll untie him. Patrick’s wrists are all achy after, his body sore. Art presses soft kisses where the red markings from the tie still linger. He never leaves marks. Not physically. Patrick just wants to cuddle with him after. Hold him close. They crawl into bed all tangled up in each other.    

*

Being with a girl is a lot different. Art gets tongue tied so easily. Says things that make him sound like a robot or like he was born in the 1950s. Especially when it comes to Tashi.  “I just think you’re swell.” It’s not what he means to say but it just comes out when Tashi takes his hand over dinner. 

“Loser,” she gazes at him, amusement dancing in her pretty brown eyes. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Pretty like an angel. Perfect like a god. 

The way Art would do literally anything for her and he can’t stop saying it.

”Like anything?” She asks him one night, they’ve been together for a while now. He’s gonna ask her to be his wife soon.

“Yeah,” Art says, shy. 

She grins, twirling a lock of shiny brown hair around her finger idly. “You’re so pretty. You wanna be my pretty little girl?” 

Art isn’t sure what that means but he says yes right away. He finds out the next day when she brings home a little maids outfit. Looks like the kind of girls costume you’d find at Spirit Halloween all year round. “It’s my friend’s, she was a sexy maid for Halloween last year,” Tashi smirks. ”Can you put it on? I really need you to be in uniform to clean the house.” 

Of course he doesn’t hesitate. It’s a little too small, too tight, too short. The fabric is all itchy and barely covers the swell of his ass. “Take those off,” she says about his briefs and he does. He feels so obscene walking around with no underwear. It doesn’t help that it’s turning him on, his cock half hard pressing at the frills in the little dress.

She makes him do the dishes, sweep and mop the floor. Makes him get on his knees and scrub because… he “missed a spot”. All while she stands around, with her glass of wine, poking and prodding at him like a sloppy husband who wants to fuck the nanny. Pinching at his waist, smacking his bottom, teasing his dress up while he’s bent over, with her pretty little manicured toes. Making dirty comments like. “You’re just the prettiest little girl aren’t you?” “I love watching you work.” “Makes my dick hard.”   

Art didn’t expect this to do anything for him but right now he’s so hard his stomach hurts. So hard he can’t think properly. He can’t stay still when she gets him back on his feet. He’s so antsy. She touches his cheek, her eyes all shiny from the wine as she stares at him. “Jesus,” she whispers. “You’re all done, aren’t you baby?”   

“Mm” Art swallows. “I just…I just wanna…can you touch me?” He stammers out.

She grins and guides him to the sofa. Makes him straddle her and lets him give her a kiss. She’s barely touching him over the fabric of the maid costume when he loses it all over. 

“Mm no fuck…” he whines, embarassed. “No ‘m sorry. ‘m so sorry.”

She giggles. ”Silly girl. It’s okay. Come on, lick it up.” She presses her fingers to his lips and he opens up. 

“That’s right. Good girl.” She whispers, coaxing more fingers inside. And just like that he’s getting hard again.   

[soggyriceee]

Omg, I’m obsessed with your writing, girllll! The other CoD characters can fight me, but König is ride or die🥵..

Could you write a story where the reader has been in a relationship with König for years? And it’s that gruff, dominant König, you know what I mean—then they get into an argument, things get heated, and boom… BOOMBAYA PERIODT.

watch your mouth | konig

/mean konig, dom and sub dynamic, choking, konig just really isn’t rocking with your nasty ass attitude after you come home from a rough day at class/

konig was usually very sweet. he never yelled at you, the idea of hitting you never even crossed his mind once. he was kind but he didn’t play games either.

his patience with you definitely grew as your relationship built up. however, you had your days as one does, and he was usually really good at working arouns your sassy responses and facial expressions. but tonight was much different

you had failed your math exam for class, bringing you grade down to a whopping C-. you were a very studious person it was something Konig found sexy about you. he liked that you had plans for your future and worked towards them. not that he wouldn’t complain once abojt you being his stay at home wife, but he also didn’t want to push that lifestyle onto you.

“well just take the retest libe.. it’ll be alright.” he said, leaning against the door frame as he watched you chuck your bag and books all over the just cleaned room. “that’s not the point!” you yelled a bit too loud.

but you couldn’t help it. your body was shaking with anger. you always had a feeling your math teacher disliked you. but once you compared answers with your friend you realized math was just a topic you struggle with. and that made you even more angry

he held his tongue, before speaking again. “my love youre getting a bit loud. i wanna help but you aren’t even actually talking to me, youre yelling.” again, patient.

however you didn’t like how he spoke to you. he wasn’t mean, but you didn’t like how you were mad and he spoke to you with that fake ass soft voice. it felt like he was trying to talk to you like you were a child. you might be acting like one, but you weren’t one.

“konig leave me the fuck alone.” you said bluntly, pushing past him and making your way to the bathroom. it was your “me” space for when you wanted to get away from Konig. when you locked yourself in there, he knew to leave you alone for at least ten minuets before checking on you.

but this time, his patience was more than thin. he had a bad day himself! and you didn’t even bother to ask, just yell at him.

his hand quickly gripped your wrist, yanking you back into the bedroom. yelping, you tried to push off him but of course, what business did you have overpowering a 6 foot man like Konig?

he shoved you on the bed, his chest heaving. it was scary sure, but this just made you even more pissed. as soon as you went to speak he grabbed your jaw, holding it still. “i don’t care how bad a day you had” he does, “you watch your mouth and tone when speaking to me.”

his eyes shot daggers into your softening ones, the pumping in your heart moving down between your legs now. you whimpered softly, your eyes shooting down. “look at me.” he growled.

when your eyes didn’t meet his, he huffed. it’s not that you were scared of him hell no. it’s that you were still angry and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of listening to him.

his hands worked quick to shove you down, pressing his hand against your throat as your back hit the mattress. his eyes pierced into you, his neck vein bulging out. again, konig already had a bad day. dealing with you’re nasty attitude was not going to be it was going to finish.

“i told you look at me didn’t i?” he growled, his face almost pressing against yours now. his breath hot and low as he spoke. when you whimpered a yes into his palm, he hummed, nodding his head softly. “didn’t listen did you?”

his other hand made its way around your body, teyinf to distract you. slow and small circles against your hips, eyes scanning your face. a small , fake smile spread on his lips as he got closer to your pulsing cunt.

when he grazed his fingers over your crotch, your hips bucked up, feigning for more than just that. he shook his head, tsk-ing at your desperate reaction. “if you weren’t so mean to me maybe this pussy would be getting some attention.” he smirked, looking down as he continued to make small, light handed circles against it.

your eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on what little feeling he was giving you. youve cum just from his voice alone while he was away killing people, you could finish from just this too.

but konig was fully aware of the effect he had on your body, how easy it was for you to come undone for him, pathetic really. his fingers stopped focusing on your covered cunt, and moved their way up your body instead.

his hand remained on your mouth, annoyed by youre voice enough today. “wanna apologize?” he finally asked, his finger sliding up and under your sweater to your bra.

the more you tried to apologize, the firmer and deeper his hand would push you into the mattress. he smiled to himself, listening to you get more and more muffled. “no?” he asked, eyes meeting yours, flashing his amusement.

he shrugged, mumbling an “okay” before wrapping his fingers arouns your pants, pulling them down. his hands pushed your legs apart, not that he really had to anyways, sighing at the wet spot already on your panties. “so easy..” he mumbled, pressing his thumb rifht in the middle of it.

your eyes closed, a sigh of relief coming from you as his thumb worked it way against your clit. but it wasn’t enough.

he didn’t apply much pressure at all, and the speed was just terrible. it felt good sure, but it wasn’t enough to get you off.

your hands began reaching for his, trying to get them to move even a bit faster. but he was quick, slapping them away. “you think you deserve anything from me right now? take what i give you.” he said, pointing his finger in your face as a angry parent would to their child.

you whined, pushing your hips up. a muffled please could be heard from you, but he didn’t care. his thumb went back to the lazy pace he had, watching as your hips bucked up and pleaded for more.

he felt his cock press right against his leg, groaning at the throbbing sensation. he had already been waiting for you to get home to abuse and use your pussy. you’re making him wait now, and that didn’t make konig so happy ..

your head pressed into the mattress, tears streaming down your face as he worked you through your third orgasm. it was too much, way more than you were begging him for. “oh poor baby.. thought you wanted this no… begged for it so much now this pussy cant take it?” he said from behind, rubbing his hand up and down your back as his hips pushed in and out of your dripping cunt.

your legs shook violently, barely able to hold you up. your kind grew fuzzy, hands gripping the sheets below you. words were unable to be formed, leaving you with no way to speak up.

konig watched you from above, smiling to himself and the work he’s done. he hasn’t dared to cum, wanting to abuse and use you for just a bit more. plus it was fun seeing you suffer like this.

his hips began picking up the pace again, letting you know he wasn’t close to being down with you at all. “she’s taking me so well..” he cooed, rubbing his hands on your red ass as he watched your cunt leak for him. “p-please” you sobbed, your shaky arms going to push him away.

he simply took them however, pinning them against your back as he shoved himself back into you. it was all too much. your body shook beneath him, begging him to stop his attack on you. “just tell me your sorry bunny..” he said, head falling back as he felt his high creep up on him again.

you sobbed apologies, even looking back to meet his eyes. but your eyes, dilated and teary, only made his balls tighten as you spewed apologies at him. “i’m sorry konig .. p-please i cant take .. i cant take it!”

he growled down at you, shoving your head back into the mattress. he watched as your ass moved against him, your shaky limbs and the way your juices covered his cock. his fingers duh into your scalp, gripping your hair as his cum painted your insides, ropes shooting deep inside as he fucked himself throufh it.

for the first time that night he sounded so pathetic, so whiny. his eyes rolled back , tongue sticking out as his hips rocked back and forth. “f-fuck..” he grumbled, coming back to Earth to the sight of your worn out body.

you were so happy he had finished, only to feel his hips begin to rock once again. “that doesn’t sound believable enough..” he would whisper into your ear, smiling as you let another choked sob into the mattress.

konig if you were real id never tap out I SWEAR

[corpsedogs]

jason todd x reader

slight gender dysmorphia mention(?)

✿ get outta here! — you intrude jason’s bath time

For Jason, a long warm bath was one way for him to blow off some steam. Letting the warm water seep through his skin felt so much better after drenching himself in hours in the cold Gotham rain. He had come home from patrol an hour ago, and was still quite bitter on how Tim had gotten to all the goons before he did. Poor Jason couldn’t really do anything afterwards but leave and go home.

Course, you were there in the bedroom waiting for him till he got out— though, he wasn’t sure if he told you that he was going to stay there for a bit. He was well aware that you might check on him soon, considering he has been here for a while. But surprisingly, you haven’t, so he doesn’t think about it that much.

He hears the door swing open and your footsteps pad on the bathroom floor, Jason could see your silhouette behind the curtains. “Are you still taking a bath?” you called out, he saw your fingers slide in between the bathroom curtains. “Well, I’m gonna be here for a while,” he replies as he tilts his head, “Why? Something up?” he asks.

You shook your head as you moved the curtains, ”No, I wanted to wash my feet.” Jason frowns, “Really now?’ he didn’t really want anyone to disturb his alone time. But since it was you, maybe he could let it slide. “Sorry if it’s a problem.” you apologized, “But don’t worry, I’m just here to soak my feet for a bit.”

Jason scoffs, “How modest of you.” he says as he gives a bit of space “Then make yourself at home.” you smiled as you rolled up your long blouse to your thighs.

Jason placed a towel on the edge of the bathtub for you to sit on as your legs dipped in the warm water. “Yikes, it’s hot.” you commented while Jason merely shrugged “It’s not too bad.” he replied as he took the soap bar and handed it to you.

You thanked him as you started to scrub your body. It was silent for a bit till you spoke up, “Still stingy about today? You’ve been in here for a while.” you asked. He scoffed as he moved his hair out of his face, “Well yeah.” he really wanted to get a punch or two today but someone just had to go and take care of it instead of him. He looks over to you, “Can you blame me? I mean, thoss was supposed to be mine.”

You raised your brow at him, “You’re more mad at Tim than getting soaked by the cold rain?” you asked. Jason couldn’t help but roll his eyes again, “Course I’m pissed about that too.” he replied as he leaned his head on the back of the tub. He wanted to complain more on how the rain was freezing his ass off, but didn’t mention anything.

You couldn’t help but teasingly smile and ruffle his slightly wet hair, “Aw, my poor baby.” Jason glared at you and lifted his head to look at you, “Shut up.” he scoffs and splashes a bit of water in your blouse.

“Hey wait! I’m still wearing a shirt.” you said as you shielded yourself from the water, “Should’ve taken it off first then.” Jason replies.

The two of you sat in silence as you continued to wash your feet, “You know, back then. I used to scrub myself roughly from head to toe, I wasn’t even sure if I was that dirty.”

Jason couldn’t help but be curious, “Yeah? Why?” he asks, you paused for a while before answering “Cause I didn’t really know how to take care of myself back then.” you replied, “I was more focused on looking good rather than doing what’s best for me.” Jason takes it in for a moment, “Well, if you're asking me. I don’t really care what you look like.” he said.

You can’t help but chuckle, “Really?” Jason can’t help but frown, he could tell that you probably didn’t think that his comment was a big deal, which was for him. “Yeah really.” he replied, “I don’t care if you look good or not it’s-“ he falters as thinks of how to continue his words for a moment, “But, you get what I mean right?” he looks away from your gaze a bit to try and hide his embarrassed face.

Now it was your turn to give him a look, you were taken aback by his words. “Oh.” you replied, unsure on how to reply “You mean that?” you were definitely sure of it, but you just wanted to hear him say it.

"Yeah, I do." he says, "Do you think I would lie to you about that?" He was starting to get a bit defensive, not liking the fact that you were doubting him. You shook your head in response, “I wasn’t doubting you, I just wanted to hear you say something sweet.” you smiled. Jason scoffs at your cockiness, “I was just being honest.” It wasn’t like he didn’t want to tell you something sweet, it was just he wasn’t too confident to do it. He sighs as he sinks in the water a bit, “You’re a real smartass you know? Are you done cleaning your legs?”

As you nodded he sighs in relief, “Okay, bathe time over, get outta here.” you can’t help but chuckle as you pull your legs out, and finally he had the bathtub all by himself again.

“Now don’t just go standing there. You’re blocking the light.” He complained as you rolled your eyes, “What a grump.” you murmured as you left the bathroom.

🛁 this fic was inspired on veil by kotteri, anyways like and reblog thank chu very much

[love-quinn]

— DON’T SAY THAT

summary — you and remus find each other doing what you both do best: hiding from the rest of the school.

warning — none

pairing — remus lupin x fem!reader

pronouns — none but reader is explicitly mentioned to be a girl

word count — 1.9k

note — this is another super old draft i’ve been sitting on, i hope u like it :3 thank u for 300 followers <3

The wooden panelling of the window was sticking into your back but you weren’t planning on moving. The sun was hitting your back in a way that filled you up completely. You had your current read in your lap, curling your neck into a crevice. The East hallway on the fifth floor was pretty much deserted most afternoons, most of the classrooms up there were for classes that no longer ran anymore.

Summer was quickly approaching, and with summer came the end to your time at Hogwarts. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you knew what you were doing after you finished school, you knew the general field, but you didn’t have a dream job or anything.

The pages of your book were browned by the sunshine, and it was hot to the touch as you flipped the page.

There was the distant sound of footsteps, and you shrunk further into your alcove, a little sunset set right into a window that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. The Hufflepuffs were training down there, and you watched them zoom around between pages.

You had nowhere you were meant to be, it was hours until curfew and the wing wasn’t off limits. No danger of getting in trouble.

The footsteps slowed to a stop around the corner, you couldn’t see them with your back pressed into the panelling. Eventually, you heard a breath, and swivelled your neck to see who was there. You recognised him from a few of your classes, and just from around. He was tall, taller than the rest of his friends, with messy hair and a heaving chest.

You weren’t staring at him, but you were definitely looking. He locked eyes with you and gave a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re alright,” you said gently. “What were you running from?”

He looked embarrassed to have been caught. “Oh, just… you know.”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Right.”

He looked back in the direction he had come. “Don’t think anyone will come up here looking for me. I don’t suppose you mind sharing your hiding spot with me?” He asked softly.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, giving him enough room on the seat to sit. There was already room, it was deep enough for you both to sit side by side, but you figured he’d want the space. “I’ve seen you around loads,” he said, tucking himself away. His eyes were the colour of honey in the sunlight. He sat cross-legged, sleeves of his jumper pulled over his slender fingers. “Are we in the same muggle studies class?”

You nodded, pleased with the recognition. “I don’t know why you take that class, you already know everything.”

“My mum’s a muggle born,” he laughed, ducking his head. “But she was never able to share that stuff with me as much as she wants to, not with… all this,” he gestured around and your eyes fell to the quidditch team on the ground. They were packing up, dusk was coming soon.

“That’s really sweet,” you said honestly, smiling behind where you held your book against your chin.

He gave you a mirrored grin, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to remind me of your name. I’m normally not this rude, I promise.”

You told him and he snapped his fingers like you’d just given him some sort of breakthrough. “Right, I am awfully sorry.”

You shook your head, leaning against the glass of the window. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

He studied your face for a second, a frown working its way into his eyebrows. “You already know my name,” he guessed.

You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “I get you guys confused,” you said airily. “You’re either Remus or Sirius.”

He groaned, forehead landing on your knee. “Don’t say that to me, I thought we were becoming friends.” He wiped his hand over his face. “Do I look like much of a Sirius?”

“About as much as you look like a Remus,” you reasoned. That wasn’t entirely true. Remus was soft, it was a cosy name that had some sort of academic background you couldn’t recall. Sirius was a star, you’d learned in mandatory first-year astronomy. You’d never spoken to any of Remus’s friends, but if you had to guess any of them to be named after a star, you’d pick Sirius, charming smiles and chipped nails.

“Godric, just say you hate me.” He said dramatically. “I can never tell him that, he’ll be over the moon.”

You smiled at that, and he brightened. He’d been trying to pull a real, proper, one out of you since he’d arrived. He gave them a lot more liberally than you did apparently. Remus couldn’t really imagine looking at your face and not smiling.

There were more footsteps and Remus sighed. “I’d better head off. You only need one idiot interrupting you.”

You didn’t correct him, though you wanted to. He walked off with the air of someone who wasn’t actively being chased. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said agreeably, not really believing him. He’d been a lot nicer than you’d expected. All three of them, Remus, Sirius and their friend James, were fairly intimidating. Taller than most of the other seventh-years, James was the captain of the Quidditch team and Head Boy, and Sirius had his own reputation. It was easy to see them as scary. They’d never done anything to you to cement the idea, but they’d also never done anything to disprove it. Not until then, anyway.

Dinner arrived and you took your book back to the Great Hall to eat. You sat with your friends and had almost forgotten about your encounter with the boy until the next afternoon. There was a summer storm coming, heralding in the season, with thick grey clouds off in the distance. For the moment, though, it was as warm as ever, and you were looking forward to being stretched out on the seat and continuing your book. You had friends, roommates, classmates, plenty of people who would be more than happy to let you keep them company after classes ended. But you liked coming up here. Hogwarts was often busy, especially outside, especially in the warmer months. You got to people watch in the quiet, and you didn’t mind it. The large windows gave you a view of the changing weeks without needing to ever alter your routine to suit the weather.

When you reached the seat, though, it wasn’t empty. Remus Lupin was sitting there with his History of Magic textbook open on his lap. You stood there for a moment, right in the spot he had been when you had seen him the afternoon earlier.

“You can sit,” Remus teased, “I don’t mind sharing.”

You sat, flattening your skirt and mirroring his crossed legs. His were a lot longer than yours, but there was more than enough space for you to give him extra legroom. “Oh, how generous.”

“I brought a book as well,” he held it up. “Mine’s nonfiction, though. I get shy. Figured I didn’t want to put you out too much. Not that I have to stay, of course.”

You shook your head. “Like I said, you’re alright. I can’t really picture you being shy about anything.”

He beamed. “Oh, you should see some of my books.” He let out a puff of air like he hadn’t used enough of his breath by talking. “It’s appalling, honestly. You’d lose all respect for me.”

“I don’t care what you read,” you assured him.

He shook his head. “No, it’s the state of them. You seem like one of those people who think books are this sacred thing - which, don’t get me wrong, I agree. But the state of them, I think I’ve written more in margins than I ever have for school.”

You let out a laugh, not too loud for how close you two were sitting, but loud enough that he could make out each individual layer of your voice. You flipped over your book and showed him your annotations that you had made months ago. This was your favourite, and you’d reread it dozens of times. “Ah, one of us I see,” Remus said happily. His whole face lifted when he smiled, like a spring that had finally let go and been snapped back to its original position.

“This one’s blank, I donate my books back to the school at the end of the year,” he explained. You didn’t even realise the school did that, you’d always gotten your books from Diagon Alley at the beginning of each year. You did vaguely remember seeing old potions textbooks in the bottom of the ingredients cupboard.

“Of course you do,” you shook your head, looking down at your lap and stifling a giggle. “Pack of saints, you lot are.”

Remus looked offended. “I resent your insinuation, evil girl.”

You raised your eyebrows innocently. “I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure I saw one of you throw a dungbomb across the hall during breakfast yesterday morning. I find it rather difficult to connect that person to this one.”

“I am multifaceted,” Remus said matter-of-factly. “Besides, that was James. I had no part in it.”

You gave him an appraising look, but he didn’t waver. “Of course. Where do your friends think you are, anyway?”

That surprised him well and truly. You’d been a bit of a surprise as a whole, really. You usually kept to yourself as far as Remus had seen. Even when you were with your friends, Remus had never heard you talk as comfortably as you seemed to be doing with him. He didn’t understand why you’d ask him that. “Here,” he said like it was obvious. It should have been. “With you.”

“Oh,” your eyebrows furrowed and then your face cleared with much deliberation. “Of course, right.”

“Why would I lie about coming to see you?” He asked, looking right at your face. Your eyeline was still in your lap. “I think you’re great. I want to get to know you better.”

You finally looked up at him and he felt the sun hit his face again, despite the fact that it was now hidden behind the impending clouds. “I want to get to know you better, too, Remus.”

He flashed you a wide grin. “I’ll have to ask their permission, of course.” He was teasing you again. You rolled your eyes and uncrossed your legs, stretching them so you could kick him as gently as possible.

“I hope they’ll like me,” you didn’t realise you did until you said it out loud.

“James’ll love you,” Remus said casually, like you were actually planning on meeting him. Neither of you had any intentions on breaking from your new tradition, especially not so early on. “It’s Sirius you’ll have to win over.”

You bit your lip. “I have to like, prove my intentions with you, or something?”

Remus laughed, and the sound echoed around the corridor. “No, no, you could fuck me over royally and he wouldn’t care.” Your laugh joined his and Remus scooched as close as he could in such a confined space. You didn’t mind, your thigh pressed against his. He finally spoke up again after a minute, voice filled with honey. “No, you’re just much prettier than he is.”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Kavi did you see that video of Oscar trying snacks in Abu Dhabi? He tried karak chai and it didn’t even make the podium, lowkey hurt my feelings 🥲 then I remembered this gora pakora lived in the UK and probably drinks that weak British version of tea… anyways now I’m thinking of desi!reader just arguing with him over being uncultured bc wdym you don’t love karak chai!!

uncultured ☕︎

⏾ op x desi!reader ⋆⑅˚₊

⏾ fluff ⋆⑅˚₊

masterlist ☾☼

"what do you mean you don't love karak chai!!" you say, throwing your hands up in disgust. oscar, stretched out on the sofa, looks up at you with a faintly puzzled look.

"i just… don't get it," he says, shrugging very slightly. "it's… really strong. and milky. and… spicy?"

"spicy?!" you splutter, appalled. "it's not spicy! it's… warming! comforting! it's like a hug in a mug!"

oscar raises an eyebrow. "a very intense hug," he grumbles under his breath.

"you're just uncultured," you say, crossing your arms. "you wouldn't understand. it's a desi thing."

"uncultured?" oscar asks, a smile in his voice. "i've traveled around the world! i love all kinds of foods! i just… don't really enjoy karak chai."

"that's what an uncultured person would say!" you say, walking back and forth. "it's like… it's like not liking paella in spain! it's a sin almost!"

oscar chuckles. "alright, alright, i get it. you're extremely enthusiastic about tea."

"enthusiastic?" you snort.

but maybe… maybe you could show me? teach me? indicate the error of my ways?"

you raise an eyebrow at him doubtfully. "joking?"

"no, no, seriously!" he affirms. "i want to learn. maybe you can brew me a cup, the way you do it. maybe then i'll get the magic."

you consider this for a moment. it's a wild guess, but just maybe, you might be able to convert him. "hmm," you say, running your chin over your thumb. "alright. but don't say i didn't warn you."

oscar grins. "i'm willing to take the risk. but if i still don't like it, you have to admit people have different tastes."

"fine," you concede. "but you're going to love it. just you wait."

at last, you pour boiling tea into a mug and pass it to oscar with bravado. "behold," you declare. "the karak chai that shall change your life."

oscar takes a reluctant sip. he closes his eyes for a second, taking in the aroma and the taste. you hold your breath in expectation of his critique.

he blinks his eyes open, frowning thoughtfully. "hmm," he says. "it's. actually pretty decent."

you smile. "i told you!"

"it's still very strong," he continues, "but… i can see what you're saying about the warmth and the comfort. and the spices are… interesting."

"interesting?" you repeat, feigning hurt. "they're magical!"

oscar chuckles. "okay, magical. but i still wouldn't say i'm a convert. but… i'm certainly happy to try it again."

you smile. "that's all i ask. one cup at a time. soon you'll be begging for it."

oscar grins. "we'll see about that. but in the meantime… thanks for the. cultural experience."

you grin back. "anytime. just remember, i tried to save you from a life of unculturedness."

and as the two of you settle back into the sofa, each with their drink of choice, you can't help but feel a bit superior.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this! i have been taking a bit of a break recently! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Heat Exhaustion

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Trigger Warning - Panic Attack

It was late, far too late to be awake when I had a flight to catch soon, but my mind wouldn’t quiet down. I was lying on my bed, my phone resting on my chest as I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The past week had been a whirlwind—another podium, more speculation about Max and me, the journalist still lurking in the shadows, and now… Max knowing the truth.

I should have felt relieved that he was on my side, that he wasn’t going to expose me, but instead, I felt like the walls were still closing in. Every day was a balancing act, a game of deception that I had to play to protect what I loved. And even though I trusted the few people who knew, the fact remained that they had all found out by accident.

I never got to choose who knew the truth about me.

Until now.

My fingers twitched as I lifted my phone, unlocking it and opening the group chat with Kimi and Ollie. They had been checking in on me more than usual, sending casual texts but always slipping in a "How are you feeling?" or "You sure you're good?" I appreciated it, but I also knew they were picking up on things I wasn’t saying.

I hesitated before finally typing.

Me: Hey, are you guys up?

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Ollie: Yeah, what’s up? Kimi: Everything okay?

I chewed on my bottom lip, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. This wasn’t something I could just say easily. But I needed to get it out.

Me: I’ve just been thinking a lot about last weekend. It was… a lot to handle.

A pause, then—

Ollie: Yeah, we figured. You’ve been kinda off. Kimi: Not talking as much. That’s not like you.

I let out a soft breath, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness in my chest. They noticed.

Me: Yeah… it’s just hard to explain sometimes.

Kimi: You don’t have to if you’re not ready. But if you ever want to, we’re here.

That was the thing—I did want to.

I had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, maintaining the act, making sure no one ever saw too much. I had gotten used to it. But Kimi and Ollie were two of the people I had grown to genuinely care about on the grid. And I wanted them to know me the way that Franco, Lando, Oscar, and now Max did.

I wanted to choose them.

I gripped my phone tighter before finally typing out the words.

Me: Actually… I think I want to tell you guys something. Something big.

The typing bubbles popped up immediately.

Ollie: Okay…? Kimi: Now I’m curious.

I exhaled slowly, staring at the screen, willing myself to go through with it.

Me: Every person who knows this about me found out by accident. I never really got to choose who I told.

A pause. Then—

Ollie: What do you mean? Kimi: Are you saying… you want to tell us?

My heart was pounding. This was it.

Me: Yeah. I do. I trust you both, and I want you to actually know me.

There was a longer silence this time. For a moment, I wondered if they were freaking out, if they were regretting saying they’d always be here.

Then—

Kimi: Wow… okay. When? Ollie: Yeah, whenever you’re ready, we’re here.

I let out a shaky breath, a warmth spreading through my chest.

Me: How about after media duties on Thursday in Qatar? Just us, maybe in my hotel room. I want to finally show you who I am.

It felt strange to say it like that—show them who I was. But that was the reality. No one besides Franco, Lando, Oscar, and now Max had seen me without the baggy clothes, the helmet, the entire disguise I had carefully built. Kimi and Ollie had only ever known Ghost. Now, they would finally meet me.

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again, as if they were thinking hard about their response. Then, finally—

Ollie: We’ll be there. Kimi: Of course. We wouldn’t miss it.

I exhaled deeply, my shoulders slumping with relief as I locked my phone and pressed it against my chest.

For the first time, I was choosing who to trust. I was deciding who got to know the real me. That made all the difference as my mind began to relax, I was able to fit in a nice nap before my alarm woke me to leave for the airport. 

—

The seconds dragged, stretching unbearably as I sat on the edge of my hotel bed, my hands clenched into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms. My helmet was still on, the visor down, the only thing keeping me hidden for just a little while longer. My hoodie felt suffocating, but I didn’t push it back. Not yet.

I had been so sure when I texted them.

I had spent the whole week telling myself this was the right thing to do, that this was the moment I would finally get to take control over something that had been out of my hands for far too long. Every other person who had found out had done so by accident—Franco, Lando, Oscar, even Max. Each time, it had happened without me choosing it, without me deciding I was ready.

This time, I had made the choice. I had typed the words out myself, I had asked Kimi and Ollie if they would come.

So why did I feel like my heart was about to beat out of my chest?

I exhaled sharply, my knee bouncing as I tried to shake the feeling off. This is nothing. This is just another reveal.

But it wasn’t, not really.

Because they weren’t just my teammates or my rivals. They were my friends. And they had become my friends without knowing who I really was.

What if this did change things?

What if they looked at me differently? What if they started treating me like I was fragile? What if—

Knock knock knock.

I jolted upright, breath catching in my throat.

The moment was here.

For a fleeting second, I considered staying put, pretending I wasn’t in, sending them a last-minute excuse that something had come up. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t do that. I had come this far, had spent years hiding, and I was so tired of it.

Swallowing down my nerves, I forced myself up, my feet feeling heavier than usual as I crossed the room.

Another knock, gentler this time.

They were waiting.

I reached for the handle, hesitating just long enough to take a steadying breath before pulling the door open.

Kimi and Ollie stood there, both looking equally nervous.

Their eyes flicked immediately to my helmet, to the way my hoodie draped over me, and I saw the realization hit them—that I was shaking.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ollie said immediately, stepping forward slightly. “If you don’t feel ready, we won’t be upset.”

“Seriously,” Kimi added, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “We don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. It’s okay if you change your mind.”

Their kindness nearly broke me.

I clenched my jaw, gripping the edge of my hoodie sleeves, trying to hold myself together. They were giving me an out—offering me an escape with no strings attached. And for a second, a small part of me wanted to take it.

But I had spent so long not having a choice.

I wanted this.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “I want to do this. I need to.”

They studied me for a long moment, like they were trying to make sure I really meant it.

Then, finally, Ollie gave me a small smile, one that told me he understood just how much this moment meant to me. Kimi nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Kimi said simply.

I stepped back, letting them inside. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, the room felt so much smaller.

The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on my shoulders.

I turned to face them, my hands still trembling slightly, but I clenched them into fists again, trying to ground myself.

“One rule,” I said, my voice quieter than usual. “No matter who is under this helmet… you can’t tell anyone.”

Ollie’s expression softened further, his brows pulling together like he could see just how much this meant to me. “Of course. We’d never do that.”

Kimi nodded firmly. “We promise. We wouldn’t risk losing you. We have come to care for you as more than just a competitor.”

The words hit harder than I expected, my chest tightening at the sheer sincerity in their voices.

They didn’t care about the mystery, about the reveal itself.

They just cared about me.

I inhaled sharply, feeling a lump form in my throat as I lifted my hands to my helmet.

This was it.

The final moment before the truth came out.

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the edges. My mind screamed at me to stall, to wait just another second, just another minute, but I forced myself to push through the fear.

They’re your friends. They won’t leave. They won’t treat you differently.

Slowly, I lifted the helmet off.

The cool air hit my face first, followed by the flop of my hair from within the casing.

For a second, neither of them moved as an eerie silence filled the room.

Then, Ollie’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly as he blinked in pure shock. Kimi’s reaction was quieter, but his expression shifted instantly, his brows raising in understanding.

The weight of the moment pressed down on me, my heartbeat hammering so loudly in my ears that I swore they could hear it.

Seconds stretched unbearably, and then—

Ollie let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his lips twitching up into a grin. “No way.”

Kimi exhaled, shaking his head with something that looked like disbelief before his lips curled into a soft smile. “That’s why you were so nervous, huh?”

I nodded slowly, unable to find my voice.

Ollie let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Mate, you’ve been fooling the entire world.”

Something about his tone—light, teasing, not at all distant or different—made the tension in my shoulders loosen slightly.

Kimi tilted his head, studying me for a moment before nodding. “This… actually makes a lot of sense now.”

I blinked. “It does?”

Kimi hummed in amusement, tilting his head as he studied me. “Yeah… the way you’ve been moving, the way you’ve been hiding. It wasn’t just about keeping your identity a secret, was it?” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “It was about making sure people saw you as a driver first. Not just a name… and not just because you’re a girl.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. They got it. They really, truly got it.

Ollie’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment longer before something seemed to click. His eyes widened slightly. “Wait a second…” He squinted, like he was trying to place a distant memory. Then, his jaw dropped. “No way.”

Kimi’s brows furrowed before realization dawned over him too. His expression softened in understanding. “Holy shit. You’re—” He hesitated, almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud. “You’re Jack’s little sister, aren’t you?”

A sharp breath left me at the sound of my brother’s name.

I nodded slowly.

Ollie let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair as the memories seemed to come rushing back to him. “I knew you looked familiar! You were at a race a few years back, weren’t you? I remember Jack talking about his sister being in the paddock for a weekend, but you were—” He gestured vaguely. “You looked different then. You weren’t…”

“Disguised?” I offered with a small, wry smile.

He let out a chuckle. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Kimi exhaled, shaking his head as a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “This explains so much.”

Ollie looked at me, his expression shifting from disbelief to something softer. “Why didn’t you just race under your real name?”

I hesitated, my fingers curling into my hoodie sleeves. “Besides the problems with my parents, I didn’t want to be just ‘Jack’s little sister.’ I wanted to make it here on my own. No expectations, no assumptions—just me, proving that I deserved to be here.”

Kimi nodded in understanding, his eyes holding something that looked like respect. “And you did.”

Ollie grinned, nudging me lightly. “Yeah, you really did. And honestly? This makes you even more of a legend.”

That hit deep. I let out a slow breath, my nerves still there but quieter now, replaced by something warmer.

Kimi’s smile softened. “We’ve got your back, okay? No one’s finding out from us.”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah. No matter what, we’ve got you.”

Relief crashed over me in waves, so intense I almost felt dizzy from it. For the first time in a long time, I chose to tell someone my truth. And I had chosen right.

—

The weekend’s sessions had been utterly brutal. The relentless Qatar heat wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was suffocating. It clung to my suit, turned every breath inside my helmet thick and stifling, made every movement feel sluggish. Sweat dripped down my back, pooling beneath layers of fireproofs, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn't peel the suit away between runs like the others did. I couldn’t press an ice pack to my neck, couldn’t dump water over my head to cool down.

I couldn’t even drink properly.

Every other driver could remove their helmets, take a quick sip from their bottles between debriefs, but I had to wait until I was alone in my driver’s room. The few stolen moments between sessions were the only times I could rip off my helmet, gulp down as much water as I could manage, and try to regulate my breathing before I had to suit back up again.

And qualifying was proving just how much that was wearing me down.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my trembling hands to stay steady on the wheel as I threw the car into the next corner. My arms ached from the relentless force pressing against them, my gloves were damp from sweat, and the heat inside my helmet made my head pound.

But I didn’t lift.

I couldn’t.

This was my last chance. One more lap to break into Q3. One more lap to prove I could push through.

I kept my foot down, forcing the car to its limits, wringing every ounce of performance I could from the tires. But as I rounded the final turn, the rear snapped—just a fraction, but enough to jolt my exhausted system.

I corrected it instantly, instinct taking over before my brain even had time to register the mistake. But the damage was done.

A few milliseconds lost.

Milliseconds that could mean the difference between moving forward or falling short.

I held my breath as I crossed the line, waiting—praying.

Then the radio crackled to life.

“Good job, Ghost.” Diego’s voice was steady, but I could hear the tightness behind it. “You just made it into Q3. Sitting P10 right now.”

Relief crashed into me, but it was quickly smothered by exhaustion.

“You’re not alone up there,” Diego continued. “Franco’s through too—P8. We’re happy with this, but let’s see if we can get something better out of you.”

I swallowed, my throat dry as sandpaper.

They wanted more from me.

They always wanted more.

And normally, I would have fought for it. Normally, I would have dug deeper, found something extra to give.

But right now?

Right now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left.

My fingers twitched against the wheel, muscles trembling from heat exhaustion. I could feel the sweat pooling beneath my suit, soaking into the balaclava under my helmet. Every breath inside the confined space of my visor felt too warm, too thick, like I was breathing in steam.

I needed water. I needed air. I needed to be out of this damn suit for more than just a few stolen minutes between sessions.

But there was no time for that.

Not yet.

I forced myself to key the radio, my voice rougher than usual. “Understood.” My throat burned from dehydration, but I ignored it. “Let’s go again.”

There was a pause. A small one.

Then Diego’s voice returned, softer this time.

“Copy that. You got this, Ghost.”

I exhaled sharply, rolling out of the pit lane for the next run.

I had to.

—

By the time I pulled into the pit box, my body was on the verge of betraying me completely. The heat had wrung every ounce of strength from my limbs, leaving me trapped in my own skin, suffocating inside my race suit. The weight of exhaustion pressed down like a physical force, making my grip on the wheel feel distant, almost nonexistent. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even as I tried to flex my fingers in my lap. My chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, the stale, burning air inside my helmet making it impossible to get enough oxygen.

As the pit crew jacked up my car and rolled me back into my side of the garage, I let my head fall back against the seat for just a moment, forcing myself to blink away the dizziness creeping in around the edges of my vision. The helmet felt like a furnace, trapping the heat against my skin, suffocating me with my own exhaustion.

I turned my head slightly, vision swimming, and caught sight of Franco already out of his car. His face was drenched in sweat, but he still had that easy, confident smile as he laughed with his engineers. How? He had been in the same conditions, pushing just as hard, and yet he looked… fine.

Then his eyes landed on me.

His grin widened as he raised a hand in a wave, but the second I lifted mine in return, his smile disappeared. His brows drew together, the concern sharp and immediate.

I knew exactly what he had seen.

The way my hand trembled violently, the sluggishness of my movements, the way my shoulders sagged like the weight of my own body was too much to carry.

Before I even attempted to move, Franco was already striding toward me, his playful demeanor completely gone. He reached the side of my car in seconds, one hand braced against the halo as he leaned in slightly, scanning my posture beneath the helmet.

"Hey," he said, voice quieter, serious in a way that sent a fresh wave of panic rolling through me. "You good?"

I forced myself to nod, even as my head swam. Say something. Don’t look weak.

But the moment I shifted, trying to push myself up, my body collapsed against the seat, arms going weak and useless.

"Shit—"

I barely had time to register Franco moving before his hands were on me, steadying me before I could even attempt another escape. His grip was firm but careful, as if he knew how close I was to completely shutting down.

"Oi, Nico!" Franco called over his shoulder, urgency lacing his voice. "Need a hand here!"

Footsteps rushed closer, and then Nico’s familiar presence was beside us, his voice calm but sharp. “What happened?”

“She’s overheating,” Franco answered before I could.

I wanted to protest, to tell them both to back off, but I didn’t have the energy.

“Come on,” Nico said, his arm sliding under mine as he and Franco braced me between them. “We need to get her cooled off before she passes out.”

Their help was the only thing keeping me on my feet as they guided me toward the drivers' room, my legs barely responding beneath me. Every step felt sluggish, like walking through molasses.

Inside, the temperature difference was immediate, the air conditioning hitting my suit like a wave of relief, but it wasn’t enough. I was still burning up, my skin damp with sweat beneath the layers of fireproof gear.

"Helmet," Franco said, tapping the sides. "You need to get it off."

I lifted shaky hands, fumbling with the latch, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Before I could even try again, Franco was already reaching for it, carefully undoing it for me.

As soon as the helmet came off, cooler air rushed against my flushed skin, and I gasped like I had been drowning.

“Here.” Nico pressed a cold water bottle into my hands, his expression unreadable but firm. “Drink. But go slow.”

I brought the bottle to my lips, the plastic slick in my shaking grasp, and took a sip. It felt like heaven against my parched throat, but even with the relief, my voice still came out hoarse.

"Thanks."

Franco crouched in front of me, his green-brown eyes searching my face for something, his usual teasing smirk nowhere to be found. "You shouldn’t have pushed that hard."

I shot him a weak glare. "Like you didn’t?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not amused.

Before he could fire back, a knock sounded from the door followed by the nervous voice of some team staff.

“They need you both for post-qualifying media duties.”

Franco turned so fast I thought he might break something. “Are you kidding me? We just got out of the cars, and it’s boiling out there. We are barely upright right now.”

The team member sighed. “I know. I tried to push it back, but the media’s already set up. It’s non-negotiable.”

I closed my eyes for a brief second, letting out a slow breath. I wanted to be angry, to fight back, but I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s fine,” I muttered, pushing myself upright again. My legs wobbled dangerously, but I locked them in place. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Franco muttered something in Spanish under his breath, the irritation rolling off of him in waves.

Nico moved fast, reaching into a cooler before handing me something. “Here. Wear this over your suit.”

I glanced down at the ice vest in my hands, then back up at him, gratitude flashing through my exhaustion.

"Thanks," I murmured, slipping it on. The moment the cold pressed against my back and chest, my whole body sagged in relief. Even though the sweaty suit felt disgusting, the cold seeping in from this vest made it so much more worth it. Finally I pulled my helmet back on and followed Franco out the door. 

Franco was still grumbling under his breath as we made our way toward the press area, but as I adjusted my helmet again, I could feel his gaze burning into me. I knew I must still look exhausted and he had every right to be worried for me, but right now we had our media duties and neither of us got paid enough to take the fine that would come with even one of us skipping them. 

The moment I stepped into the media pen, the lights, cameras, and voices crashed over me like a tidal wave. My head throbbed from the heat and exhaustion, my limbs screaming for rest, but I forced my body to move forward, to stand tall, to act like I wasn’t breaking apart from the inside out.

The ice vest on my race suit helped, but only just. The cold was already fading, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the heat pressing down on all of us. My hands still shook at my sides, fingers twitching involuntarily, and I could feel the weakness in my legs with every step I took. But I had to push through. No cracks. No hesitation. No weakness.

The media swarmed the second they saw me. Microphones were shoved toward my helmet, journalists calling out my name—well, my alias.

"Ghost, a tough session today—"

"How was the car handling in these conditions?"

"With such brutal temperatures, how are you holding up physically?"

I kept my shoulders squared, forcing my voice to stay even. "It was tough out there, but the team did a great job preparing the car. The conditions were brutal for everyone, but we managed to get through."

I hated how flat my voice sounded. The voice changer masked everything—my exhaustion, my struggle, my pain—but my body couldn’t lie. My stance wasn’t as steady as it should have been. My weight shifted slightly, trying to counteract the wobble in my knees. I flexed my fingers at my sides, willing the tremors away.

The next journalist didn’t even bother with a question about my performance. Instead, their voice came with a sharper edge. "Ghost, we’ve noticed you’re looking a little unsteady—"

"I'm fine," I cut in, too quickly, too defensive.

A scoff came from beside me, and I didn’t need to turn my head to know who it was.

"Fine?" Max’s voice carried over the media, sharp and laced with irritation. "They can barely stand, and you all are still shoving microphones in their face. Maybe wait until they’ve had a chance to recover before making them answer pointless questions."

I swallowed, the warmth in my chest battling the exhaustion. Max was blunt as ever, but I appreciated him for it.

The journalists, of course, didn't back down. "Max, the FIA mandates post-qualifying media duties—"

"Yeah?" Charles cut in now, his voice tight with frustration. "Maybe the FIA should use their eyes and see that some of us can barely speak, let alone stand, before throwing us in front of cameras. Look at him. This isn’t normal."

I gritted my teeth, willing my body to stay still, to not give anything away. I had survived worse. I could do this.

A hand brushed against my arm—subtle but intentional. Lewis.

He didn’t say anything to the media, but his voice was low enough for only me to hear. "You don’t have to prove anything to them. Just get through it. We’ve got you."

The kindness in his tone almost shattered the wall I was desperately holding up.

But the media wasn't done.

"Ghost, how do you respond to Max and Charles’ concerns? Are you struggling more than you’re letting on?"

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself before answering. "It’s a tough race weekend for everyone. The conditions are harsh, but that’s part of the sport."

Another journalist jumped in. "There were moments on track where you seemed to be fighting the car more than usual. Was that just the heat, or were there issues with the setup?"

I exhaled slowly. "The setup is strong. The conditions make everything harder to manage, but we’re still in a good place for the race."

The questions kept coming, and I kept answering, pushing through the nausea creeping at the edges of my mind. My hands were clenched into fists now, not out of anger but in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking. My legs felt like they could give out at any second, but I locked my knees, refusing to let them see me stumble.

"Ghost, you’re one of the only drivers still giving full interviews right now, while others have already left due to the heat. Do you feel obligated to stay?"

That one made my breath hitch.

Before I could even formulate an answer, Franco’s voice cut in from a few feet away, his tone dripping with frustration. "Maybe instead of asking him that, you should be asking why the hell he is still expected to be standing here answering your questions when he clearly needs a break."

I heard Lando mutter something under his breath before stepping in too. "We all get that media duties are part of the job, but seriously, look at him. We’re dropping like flies out here, and Ghost can barely stand. Let him go."

For a moment, the journalists hesitated. Maybe they had finally realized how bad I must have looked. Maybe they saw the way I kept shifting my weight, the way my breaths were coming just a little too shallow, the way my hands wouldn’t stay still.

The team member who had escorted me here finally stepped in, clearing his throat. "That’s all for Ghost today. He needs to recover before tomorrow."

I didn’t wait for the journalists to argue. I gave a short nod, mumbled a quick, "Thank you," and turned to leave, moving slower than I wanted to, but fast enough that no one could stop me.

As soon as I stepped away from the cameras, away from the eyes burning into me, my entire body slumped. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright drained in an instant.

Franco was there in seconds, steadying me with a firm hand on my back. "That was fucking ridiculous."

I couldn’t even respond. My head was pounding too much, my muscles aching too deeply.

Lando and Oscar caught up to us, both looking equally pissed.

"You should’ve just walked away the second you got out there," Oscar muttered, shaking his head. "They would’ve figured it out eventually."

I let out a weak laugh. "Would they, though?"

Lando huffed. "Next time, we’re dragging you out before they even get the chance."

I was too tired to argue.

Lewis appeared beside me, pressing another ice pack into my hands. "Here. This’ll help."

I took it without question, pressing it against my neck. The relief was instant but not nearly enough. Lewis smiled at me with a nod before quietly walking away. 

Max crossed his arms, still glaring toward the media pen. "If the FIA doesn’t do something about this, I will."

I shook my head slightly. "You can’t—"

"Watch me."

I sighed, but deep down, I was grateful.

—

The cold water from earlier had long since lost its effect, leaving only a dull, lingering coolness that did nothing to combat the growing weight pressing down on me.

I sat on the edge of my bed in my drivers’ room, fully suited up, my helmet resting beside me as I finished the last bottle of water I could stomach. Every sip felt like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to build a reserve before the inevitable heat drained it all away. Today was hotter than any session before, and I knew—we all knew—this race would be a battle of survival just as much as it would be a battle for position.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, trying to focus my mind. You’ve done this before. You can do it again. You just have to push through.

My fingers curled into fists against my thighs before I finally grabbed my helmet, slipping it on and locking myself in. This was it. No turning back now.

I pushed open the door and stepped out into the chaos of the garage.

—

The first laps of the race were smooth. I focused on keeping the tires in check, my pace steady, not taking unnecessary risks. The heat was already settling in, pressing against me like a second race suit, but I’d prepared for this.

Then, somewhere around the middle of the race, I hit the water button for the fifth time.

The familiar small tube inside my helmet released a shot of liquid into my mouth. The moment it touched my tongue, I gagged. It wasn’t cool anymore. It wasn’t even lukewarm. It was hot.

I spat it out instinctively, the taste bitter and almost nauseating.

"Water’s boiling," I muttered into the radio, shifting my focus back to the track.

Diego’s voice came through, calm but firm. "Copy, Ghost. Just do what you can. We’ll monitor your vitals."

I clenched my jaw. I already knew what that meant. They were watching my performance, my inputs, my pace. They’d pull me if they thought I was fading.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Laps blurred together. My mouth was dry, my throat raw from the heat. My hands were slippery inside my gloves, and every breath felt heavier than the last. I had stopped sweating at some point—not because the heat had lessened, but because my body had nothing left to give.

"Ghost, you need to think about retiring," Diego’s voice came through again, a little more insistent now. "We can see the drop-off. It’s okay."

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. "No. I can finish."

Even if I had to drag myself to the checkered flag.

"Ghost—"

"Who’s out?" I cut him off, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

There was a pause before he answered. "Doohan, Lawson, and Stroll. They’ve all retired due to the heat."

I exhaled sharply. That could’ve been me. It still could be me.

But I wasn’t done. I wasn’t finished.

I tightened my grip on the wheel, ignoring the way my vision was beginning to blur at the edges.

"Not yet," I murmured.

Then I pressed forward.

—

The moment I stopped, my body betrayed me.

I had done it—I finished the race in P6. Franco had taken P5. But there was no relief, no triumph. Only the crushing weight of exhaustion bearing down on me like a collapsing ceiling.

As I pulled into Parc Fermé, the heat that had been suffocating me all race now pressed into my skull like a vice. My vision blurred as I tried to breathe through the nausea clawing at my throat. My arms felt detached, as if they were no longer mine to command. The entire world had narrowed down to a pounding in my head and the tremors that I could no longer ignore.

This is bad. This is really bad.

I fumbled with the steering wheel, fingers trembling too hard to properly unclip it. I finally managed to yank it off, dropping it onto the nose as I reached for the halo, trying to pull myself up. My muscles screamed, burning with a fire that wasn’t just exertion—this was something worse.

My foot barely found purchase as I tried to climb out, and the second I attempted to push myself up, my strength gave out. My body slumped forward, upper torso flopping limply over the halo, my arms barely holding me up as my head hung between them. My breath came in sharp, rapid bursts, my lungs fighting against the stifling heat trapped inside my race suit.

I wasn’t just exhausted. I was failing.

Panic twisted deep in my chest, feeding into the violent shudders racking my body. My helmet felt suffocating, my suit like a second layer of burning skin. I was shaking uncontrollably, my fingers barely gripping onto the car to keep me from collapsing completely. My heart slammed against my ribs, too fast, too much—

"Breathe—breathe—" I gasped to myself, but I couldn’t.

I barely registered the footsteps rushing toward me until two familiar voices called out—

"Whoa, whoa, hey—"

"Shit—Ghost! Are you okay?!"

Ollie and Kimi.

I felt hands on me—strong, steady hands. One of them gripped my waist while the other reached for my arms, carefully but urgently trying to pull me the rest of the way out of the car. My legs buckled the second my weight shifted, but they caught me before I could hit the ground.

"She’s burning up," Ollie cursed, adjusting his hold as he and Kimi fully hoisted me up between them.

The movement made the nausea spike—the world tilted violently, a wave of dizziness crashing into me like a tidal force. I groaned softly, my head rolling against Kimi’s shoulder. The tremors in my body worsened. My knees refused to hold me, leaving all of my weight pressed into them.

"We need to get him out of here—now," Kimi said, voice tight with concern.

"Franco—" Ollie called over his shoulder, but Franco was already moving.

I barely tracked his blurred figure before he turned and sprinted towards the garage. I heard his frantic voice shouting something about Nico, ice, water, bath—but it all faded into static.

Another set of hands found me—Oscar.

"Come on, let’s get him back—" he said, already helping them move.

I didn’t have the strength to respond, to fight back against the way my vision kept fading in and out.

The three of them half-carried, half-dragged me up the pit lane. My body swayed uselessly, my legs numb beneath me, my head lolling forward and back.

I barely registered Lando’s voice until I heard his sharp inhale—

"What the hell—? Hey—what’s wrong with him?"

The shuffle of hurried steps.

Max’s voice.

"Move—what happened? What’s going on?!"

Their voices were frantic, but I couldn’t focus.

The only thing I could do was press my head against Kimi’s shoulder, my body burning and trembling and fading, fading—

The last thing I felt before my mind slipped further into the haze was the grip of their hands tightening around me.

Holding me up. Keeping me safe.

—

The cold hit me like a freight train.

A sharp, biting shock that sent a jolt through my entire body, dragging me out of the suffocating haze of unconsciousness. My skin burned from the contrast—heat still radiating off me, clashing violently against the icy water.

I groaned, head lolling to the side as I tried to blink my vision clear.

"Hey—hey, she’s waking up."

The voice was Franco’s, tight with concern.

My sluggish mind took a moment to catch up—to register that I wasn’t in the car anymore, that my helmet was gone, my race suit stripped away. I was submerged up to my chest in ice water, wearing only the thin layer of fireproofs that clung uncomfortably to my damp skin.

A firm but careful grip pressed against my shoulders—Nico.

"Easy," he murmured, steady and grounding. "Just breathe, y/n. You need to stay in the bath a little longer."

Everything still felt wrong.

My limbs were too heavy, my lungs too tight, the room too cold yet my skin too hot. My body couldn’t decide whether it was freezing or burning, and the overwhelming confusion of it all sent my mind spiraling.

"W-What—" My voice cracked—raw, hoarse.

I winced at the sound, my throat aching like I had swallowed sandpaper.

"You overheated, bad," Kimi said, leaning closer. His face was creased with worry. "We had to get you in here fast. You passed out completely."

"You scared the hell out of us," Ollie added, his usual teasing lilt nowhere in his voice.

I swallowed thickly, eyes darting around the dimly lit drivers’ room, heart rate already climbing from the weight of their words.

I had pushed too far.

I had scared them.

I had failed.

The thought hit me like a slap to the face, and suddenly, the tightness in my chest worsened.

The trembling in my hands turned into violent shakes, my breath shuddering as something clawed its way up my throat—not nausea this time, but panic. Full-blown panic.

I felt trapped in my own body.

"No—no, no, no—" I barely gasped out, my breathing spiraling into sharp, erratic bursts.

The ice bath felt too deep.

The cold was too much.

The room was spinning—

"Shit, she’s panicking," Franco cursed, immediately shifting closer. "Hey—hey, look at me."

I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I was shaking too much, heart slamming against my ribs, my vision swimming as every exhausted nerve in my body screamed at once.

Nico held me firm.

His grip on my shoulders tightened just enough to keep me grounded, his voice level as he spoke—"Breathe, kid. Don’t fight it. Just let it pass."

"You’re safe, y/n," Ollie’s voice cut through the haze, softer now. "We’re right here. You’re okay."

"You’re not alone," Kimi added, his usual stoicism cracking just enough for me to hear the genuine concern beneath it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to pull myself out of the panic’s grip.

Just breathe.

I sucked in a shaky breath. Then another. And another.

Slowly, painfully, the tightness in my chest loosened, the suffocating weight on my ribs easing—not gone, but manageable.

When I finally blinked my eyes open again, tears had slipped down my flushed cheeks, mixing with the cold water clinging to my skin.

I sniffled, embarrassed, trying to shake it off—

But Ollie just huffed a quiet laugh and reached out, gently brushing the pads of his fingers beneath my eyes to wipe them away.

"You look awful," he teased lightly, though the relief in his voice was obvious. "But at least you’re back with us."

I let out a weak breath—something close to a laugh, but more of a tired exhale.

"Thanks, Ollie."

"Anytime, y/n."

There was a beat of silence before Franco sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

"We gotta go, though. Cooldown debriefs and all."

I nodded, though I still felt too weak to fully sit up on my own.

Kimi, Ollie, and Franco hesitated before leaving, their gazes lingering on me, as if making sure I wouldn’t crumble the second they walked out the door.

"Go," I rasped, offering a small nod. "I’ll be fine."

It took another beat, but eventually, they filed out, leaving only Nico behind.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat on the stool beside the tub, watching me carefully as I tried to even out my breath.

Then—quietly—he handed me a bottle of water.

"Drink, kid."

I did.

—

The walk to media duties felt longer than usual.

My body was still aching, my skin still hot despite the ice bath, but at least I could move without my legs threatening to give out beneath me. The hoodie and sweats Nico had given me felt heavy, but they helped me still hide my feminine figure without having to put my race suit back on.

Helmet back on. Voice changer activated. Persona intact.

I was Ghost again.

Not the girl who had almost collapsed from heat exhaustion. Not the one who had panicked in the ice bath.

Just Ghost.

I had just rounded the corner when I nearly crashed into someone.

"Whoa—"

I barely had time to process before I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder, steadying me.

"Are you even okay to be walking around?"

Oscar.

I lifted my head slightly, immediately greeted by the sight of Oscar, Max, and Lando, all three of them looking me over like I might drop at any second.

Oscar’s expression was tight with concern, his eyes scanning me as if searching for any sign of weakness beneath the hoodie and sweats.

Max and Lando, on the other hand—they just looked pissed.

"Ghost, what the hell were you thinking?" Lando’s voice was sharper than usual, his usual playfulness nowhere to be found.

"You could have passed out behind the wheel!" Max snapped, arms crossing over his chest.

"You’re lucky you even made it to the end without crashing," Lando added, eyes narrowing.

I sighed, already feeling the exhaustion creep back in. "Guys, I finished the race. I’m fine."

"Fine?" Max echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You couldn’t even get out of your damn car! You had to be carried to your garage!"

"We saw you, mate," Lando said, shaking his head. "You scared the shit out of us."

Oscar, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke—his voice softer, but no less firm.

"You should’ve retired, Ghost."

I clenched my jaw beneath my helmet, fingers curling into fists at my sides.

They didn’t get it.

I had something to prove.

After everything—after spending the entire season fighting for my place, for my right to be here, for my strength—I couldn’t just quit.

Not when I was still standing.

"I couldn’t," I muttered, my voice low.

Max let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "You’re a damn idiot."

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, no kidding. You think you’re proving a point by pushing through this kind of shit? You’re just proving you have no self-preservation instincts."

"Lando—" Oscar started, but the Brit just kept going.

"Seriously, mate, what’s the point of all this secrecy, the helmet, the voice changer, if you’re just gonna race yourself into the damn grave?"

My chest tightened.

They didn’t understand.

"I finished the race," I said again, my voice stronger this time.

Max let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, and nearly fucking died doing it."

There was a beat of silence.

I didn’t know what to say.

Because deep down, I knew they were right.

I had been stupid. I had risked everything.

But at the same time—I couldn’t regret it.

"I had to," I finally whispered.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples. "You didn’t have to. You just thought you did."

Max took a step closer, his voice lower now. "Don’t do that again."

"Max—"

"I mean it, Ghost." His eyes burned into mine through the visor of my helmet. "Don’t pull that shit again."

Lando exhaled, shaking his head. "If you ever scare us like that again, I swear to god—"

"What? You'll do what?" I challenged, tilting my head.

"We’ll fucking drag you out of the car ourselves next time," Lando shot back, dead serious.

I stared at them for a long moment before exhaling quietly.

"Noted."

Oscar sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just… promise you’ll take it easy for the rest of the day."

I hesitated—then gave a small nod.

"Fine."

Max and Lando exchanged a look, clearly not satisfied, but knowing they wouldn’t get much more out of me.

"Good," Max muttered. "Now go do those stupid media duties before we get in trouble for holding you up."

I let out a breath, turning toward the media pen.

I could still feel their eyes on me as I walked away.

—

The questions had been relentless since the moment I stepped into the media pen.

I had answered what felt like a hundred different versions of "How are you feeling?" and "Was the heat the toughest challenge today?" while keeping my voice steady, my responses measured.

I could still feel the weight of Max, Lando, and Oscar’s words from earlier pressing against my chest.

"You think you’re proving a point by pushing through this kind of shit?"

"You just thought you had to."

"Don’t pull that shit again."

I had brushed them off, insisted I was fine, but deep down, the doubt had already started to sink in.

And then—I heard Jack’s name.

"Jack, do you think Ghost finishing the race today proves that you gave up too soon?"

My stomach twisted.

I turned my head slightly, listening as Jack’s tone sharpened in response.

"You think I wanted to retire?" His voice was laced with frustration, the exhaustion from the race still evident. "I had no choice. I was on the verge of passing out in the car—what the hell was I supposed to do? Just push through it like an idiot?"

The reporters kept pushing, eager to stoke the flames.

"Well, Ghost did."

That set him off.

"Yeah, and look at them! Couldn’t even get out of the car! You think that’s smart? You think that’s proving a point? That’s just reckless."

My chest tightened.

They had gotten to him.

I knew what they were doing—trying to manufacture a rivalry, to paint one of us as weaker, the other as stronger, to get some headline-worthy soundbite out of him.

And Jack—he was giving them exactly what they wanted.

"Do you regret your decision now that you see what Ghost was capable of?"

Jack let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Capable of? They nearly collapsed. That’s not capability—that’s stupidity. If anything, I feel bad for them."

I didn’t have time to process the sting in his words before I was being called up for my own interview.

The second I stepped forward, I could already see the smirks on the reporters’ faces.

They were waiting. Waiting for me to bite.

"Ghost, we just spoke with Jack, and he had some strong words about your decision to finish the race today—"

"Jack said you were reckless—"

"He implied he felt bad for you—"

"Do you have anything to say in response?"

I could feel the heat behind my visor—not from the temperature, but from the frustration simmering in my chest.

I could shut Jack down. I could bite back.

But that’s what they wanted.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing my voice to stay calm as I answered.

"I don’t blame Jack for anything he said," I started, my tone even. "But I think the real problem is how often these kinds of comparisons are made in the first place."

The interviewer blinked, caught off guard.

I continued.

"Jack did the right thing today. He recognized his limits. He chose to put his health first. That takes strength. That takes intelligence. He made the smart call—something I wasn’t able to do."

A few reporters shifted uncomfortably at my words.

"I let my ego get in the way," I admitted, my fingers curling into the sleeves of my hoodie. "I finished the race, sure. But at what cost? I put myself at risk. I let myself believe that stopping would be a weakness, not to myself, but to the public, to you. But looking back… I think Jack was stronger than me today."

A beat of silence.

The interviewers weren’t expecting this.

They wanted drama. Fuel for a rivalry.

Instead, I had taken the wind out of their sails.

"So no, I don’t have anything to say against Jack. What I do have a problem with is the way we push drivers to view each other as competition in moments like this—when really, we should be focusing on the bigger picture. None of us should have been racing in these conditions. And Jack made the right call."

The interviewers exchanged glances, realizing they weren’t going to get what they wanted out of me.

I just stood there, breathing steadily, finally understanding what Max, Lando, and Oscar had been so pissed about earlier.

I had been an idiot. And for the first time, I was willing to admit it.

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy @freyathehuntress @angelluv16

[merafanbrainthatmerafans]

MHA x reader (period)

If y/n was on her period what would MHA boys do? (I know a lot of people did this one so you don't have to read this)

𝘾𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 1-𝘼 𝙓 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙄𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙪 𝙈𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖 🌱

Researches everything. As soon as you say you’re on your period, he’s Googling symptoms, home remedies, and best pain relief methods.

“D-Does it hurt a lot? Is there anything I can do?” (he’s so worried 😭)

Buys the entire snack aisle. You said you wanted chocolate? Well, now you have five different kinds.

Heat packs? Painkillers? Cuddles? You name it, he’s getting it.

𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 🔥

Pretends he doesn’t care but actually does everything perfectly.

“Tch. Sit down, dumbass. I’ll cook somethin’.” And suddenly, you have a five-star meal.

If you’re in pain, he’ll pull you onto his lap and rub your stomach (but don’t call him soft, or he’ll explode).

“Tell me what you need, ‘cause I’m not lettin’ you sit here miserable.” (Secretly worried but won’t say it.)

𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙞 ❄️🔥

His left side is the perfect heating pad. If you’re cramping, he just lets you lay on his warm side and relaxes his body temperature to keep you comfortable.

“Is there anything else I can do?” (so polite and serious 🥺)

Brings you tea, painkillers, and a blanket before you even ask.

Doesn’t judge at all if you cry randomly—just wipes your tears away and holds you close.

𝙀𝙞𝙟𝙞𝙧𝙤 𝙆𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 🦈

Super caring but also a little clueless. “Wait, do periods really hurt that much? Damn, you’re so strong!!”

Tucks you into a blanket cocoon and refuses to let you do anything.

Buys you snacks, but gets confused. “Uh… I got chocolate, chips, and… pickles? I dunno what cravings are like.” 😭

If you’re moody, he just hugs you through it.

𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙠𝙞 𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞 ⚡

Panics at first. “Wait, you’re bleeding?! Should we go to Recovery Girl?!” (he has no idea how periods work 💀)

Wants to be helpful but is kind of useless. “Uh… do you want… a charger? A blanket? Me?”

Will 100% let you nap on him. Falls asleep with you.

Tries to make you laugh when you’re moody: “If I make you smile, does that mean I win against the period?”

𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙮𝙖 𝙄𝙞𝙙𝙖 🚗💨

The most organized caregiver. “I have researched proper period care! Here is a heat pack, water, and pain medication.”

Will time your medicine so you never miss a dose.

“I shall fetch you anything you need!” (Goes full ‘class rep mode’ and literally sprints to the store.)

Talks to you in a calm voice if you’re emotional. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

𝙋𝙧𝙤 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙓 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨 (𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞) 🦅

So smug about taking care of you. “Lucky for you, angel, I’m the best personal heater you could ask for.”

Wraps you in his wings like a giant, soft blanket.

Brings snacks, a heating pad, and a fluffy hoodie in one trip. “I got you covered, babe.”

If you get snappy, he just teases you. “Damn, is the period talking, or do you just hate me?”

𝙀𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧 (𝙀𝙣𝙟𝙞 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙞) 🔥

Confused but surprisingly helpful.

“I don’t know how to deal with this.” …but still buys you everything you need.

His body heat is a natural heating pad. He won’t say anything, but if you curl up next to him, he lets you.

Sits in silence with you. He’s not great with emotions, but he’ll stay by your side.

𝘼𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙬𝙖 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙖 💤

The ultimate period support. He literally does not care if you spend all day napping on him.

“Tired? We’re sleeping. Cramps? Lay on me.” (He’s got you covered.)

Steals medical supplies from U.A. Just casually hands you painkillers and a heating pad like it’s no big deal.

Zero judgment. You wanna cry over nothing? He’ll just pull you into a hug and let you.

𝙈𝙞𝙧𝙠𝙤 (𝙍𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙐𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙮𝙖) 🐰

Acts tough but secretly worries. “C’mon, babe, you’re tougher than some stupid period!”

But also gets you all your favorite snacks. Won’t admit she went out of her way to buy them, though.

If you’re in pain, she lets you rest on her lap and runs her fingers through your hair.

“If your cramps try to kill you, I’ll fight ‘em.” (she’s serious 💀)

𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩 👖

Super composed about it. “Ah, I see. A natural occurrence, nothing to be ashamed of.”

Buys you high-quality, comfortable clothes to wear during your period.

If you stain anything, he gets rid of it instantly. No judgment, just “I’ve taken care of it.”

“A well-dressed individual deserves comfort in all aspects of life.” (he’s surprisingly sweet 🥺)

[cliophilyra]

Late Fuck It Friday or Early Some Sentences Sunday!

I don't think I've been tagged by anyone (apologies if I've missed one!) but I had something to post so 'ere 'tis 🥳 Managed to do 1090 words of NTYK today (thanks @makepeacelovejoy for doing sprints with me this afternoon!! 🩷) so here's a little bit! (Also just for clarity, Tommy doesn’t know who Bucks baby daddy is yet and Buck doesn’t know he knows Sal at all)

Buck wipes a piece of cold pancake through a pool of syrup and sighs as he pops it in his mouth. It may actually taste better than he remembers, he thinks, wondering if that’s a thing. Something is missing though. He looks around and realises Tommy has poured himself a coffee but hasn’t gotten him one. He gets up and grabs a mug, making to pour his own. Tommy looks up surprised. “Ah…should…?” He tails off awkwardly. Buck looks down at the pot. “What?” “Coffee…is that…ok for—” Buck raises an eyebrow and swipes Tommy’s mug, gulping down half of it. “If I am going to do this I will not be doing it un-caffeinated.” Tommy gives a small eye-roll and smiles the smile of a man who knows how to pick his battles.

They eat in companionable silence for a bit, Tommy drinking the second coffee he’d poured himself once it became apparent that Buck had annexed the first cup. Buck is most of the way through eating when he realises that this is the first morning in three weeks or so that he hasn’t felt like throwing up. Not yet at least, he thinks, absently knocking on the wooden seat. Maybe things are looking up. “Evan,” Tommy starts and something about his tone has Buck’s stomach jumping. Spoke too soon… “Hmm?” He says, trying to sound like he isn’t freaking out. “I was thinking,” he pauses, Buck panics. “The father…I know you said you didn’t want to tell him--” “Because I don’t,” Buck says sharply. Maybe a little more sharply than he’d meant. “I get that, I do. And it’s up to you in the end but…” Tommy tails off and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, sighing before he looks back at Buck. “I think…I think I’d want to know, y’know. If it was me.”

“But he’s not you Tommy,” Buck protests. He doesn’t want to be angry, he knows Tommy means well but he doesn’t want to get into this. He’s made his decision as far as Sal goes. “He’s not…I don’t know him. I don’t even know if he’s a good guy. Not really.” “You said he...seemed like a decent guy.” “He did! For the literal handful of hours that I knew him he seemed great. He was kind and funny and…and he seemed to really care. So I guess I got lucky there. But it was one night. For all I know he could’ve been a serial killer on a night off.” Tommy winces and doesn’t smile.

More snippets here

Tagging people for tomorrow (or today if you want!) @rdng1230 @racerchix21 @bangpop91 @nine-one-wanton @bidisasterevankinard

@peppermintquartz @leashybebes @firehose118 @dum-amo-vivo9 @gaybonesforivy

@paperyowl @pool-spidey @bucksbignaturals @trombonechurchill @sunnywithachanceofbi

[funpoire]

Aceyuu art!

I don’t think the art is really good but I wanted to do some Aceyuu art lol. I guess i’m better with writing but it's ok. Btw this is my oc Yuusei.

Headcanon:

I like to think that Ace will be more open with his feelings with Yuu in book 8. I mean why would he hide his feelings after Yuu saw his dream and that he unlocked his signature spell because of them? I like to think he still be the teaser but also be more soft. He is more true to his feelings cause he knows Yuu will go home soon. Trying to have more private time with them, be more gentle, take care of them, etc…

my yuu wiki - more yuu content - adeuceyuu content - yuu relationship

pls follow me for more twst posts i post about every twst subject smile 🙂‍↕️. Sighhhhh chat i need to get more people to notice me on twst not cause i like fame but because i want to interact with some cool content creator. I swear i’m kind and sweet cherry on top and everything.

[eurydicees]

aaaand gliyeraba, things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

lie to me (i'll forgive you), but don't lie to yourself

summary: an accusation, or a confession, or maybe a lie, that elphaba was not ever meant to hear. prompt: things you said that i wasn't meant to hear pairings: glinda upland/fiyero tigelaar (established) talking about their love for elphaba words: 882  warnings: none 

Elphaba has been standing in front of her dorm room door for five minutes, long enough that at least two other students have walked past and given her strange looks. It probably looks strange: a girl, green; alone in front of her own bedroom door, clearly eavesdropping on whoever is inside. 

The fact that it looks so odd, even for her, is probably a sign that she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be paused outside of her own door listening to her roommate and her roommate’s boyfriend talking inside. It’s an invasion of their privacy. She shouldn’t be hearing any of this. It’s not fair to be here, listening, when they don’t know she can hear. 

But Galinda doesn’t really have a quiet mode, and Fiyero has the kind of booming voice that carries through thin wooden doors even when he doesn’t intend for it to. So when Elphaba got back from her seminar with Madame Morrible and she stood in front of the door fumbling with her key—that is to say, when she caught the distant syllables of her own name, she paused. And she started listening. 

She can only catch every other sentence, every few scattered words. The conversation doesn’t really make any sense. 

“—trying to have a real conversation,” Fiyero is saying, sounding more agitated than Elphaba has ever heard from him. The easy, carefree banter is over; the prince who charmed Galinda into young honeymoon love is nowhere to be heard. 

“And I’m participating,” Galinda tells him, but her words are short and clipped, and it’s clear to all three of them that she does not at all want to be participating. 

Fiyero is silent for a long moment; long enough that Elphaba almost considers the conversation done and puts her hand on the doorknob. Then, “You’re going to have to get better at this, you know.” 

“Better at what?” 

“Real conversations,” Fiyero tells her. His voice is low, but steady. Firm. “If you’re going to get her attention anytime soon, you’re going to have to learn to have a conversation about something that matters.” 

“And when did you become the expert on my roommate?” Galinda sneers. 

There’s a kind of breathlessness to Fiyero’s words when he says, “Around the time I realized we both feel the same about her.” 

Galinda is silent, and the quiet is tangible, palpable. Elphaba is tense, wound up, ready to burst into the room and fall apart. Bare her heart and her every vulnerability to beg one of them to explain in more words what the fuck any of that means. 

Finally, Galinda speaks again, shaking voice giving away the lie: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You do.” Fiyero’s words are sharp as a knife. “You can deny it as much as you want, Galinda, but we both know how you feel.” 

“She’s my roommate,” Galinda tells him. There’s a terrible, previously unknown lack of composure to her. She sounds like she’s trembling, like she’s breaking into pieces. “She’s my best friend.” 

Fiyero doesn’t back down, but Elphaba finds herself silently begging him to. Begging him to stop this conversation before it goes too far. Before he pushes Galinda to the brink, before either of them admit to things that they can’t take back. Things that can’t be true. Things that can’t exist, can’t be kept. Things she can’t let herself dream of. 

“Fine,” Fiyero spits. “I’ll say it. I love you, Galinda, and I love—” 

“Stop it.” 

Another long beat of silence, and Elphaba realizes that her hands are shaking. She still has her ear pressed to the door, and she needs to hear what comes next no matter how much it terrifies her. She needs to know how he was going to finish the sentence, how he was going to break her heart. 

Galinda’s voice trembles when she speaks again, breaking the silence. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what you’re saying. So don’t say it.” 

“Lie to her about it,” Fiyero says lowly, “but don’t bother lying to me.” 

Galinda is silent again, at a complete, terrifying loss for words for maybe the first time in her life. Elphaba needs her to say something, needs her to deny what Fiyero is implying, needs her to break this before it begins. 

He cannot be allowed to continue this train of thought. He cannot be allowed to want this—want her—not when Elphaba is who she is and Fiyero and Galinda are who they are. If that’s even what he’s implying; if she’s even the one they’re discussing. She knows that’s the only logical conclusion, but it feels so far out of the realm of possibility that Elphaba doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“Get out,” Galinda says, voice thick and wet with tears. “We’re not talking about this.” 

“Galinda—” 

“Out.” 

Quiet inside, and Elphaba blinks once before scrambling to leave. She can’t face either of them right now. She needs to recalibrate by herself, needs to digest everything she heard without either of them giving more input. She hears footsteps approaching the door slowly, and Elphaba runs. She gets the fuck away from their room and makes herself scarce for the rest of the night, until long after Galinda has fallen asleep.