#i don't want to have stuff left that I didn't have time to sell (the min. order for notepads is a bit high)

[todayitwillrainblood]

★ hold me close and closer,

tw! : mentions of smoking.

☆ masterlist!

⟲ synopsis;

where sieun decided he's had enough of his boyfriend smoking cigs.

★ "they say i'm tragically obsessed, hot mess..."

— "YOU'RE STILL SMOKING?" Sieun asked, walking closer with weighted steps and a stone face.

"i thought i told you to stop," [name] looked down, suddenly shy and definitely ashamed.

he was pouting, putting out the cigarette with a step of his feet, "...i'm sorry."

sieun let out a sigh, staring at him the way he does when he disapproves.

he extended his hand, "give me the pack."

[name] looked up with a jolt, "but—"

"give it to me."

just because sieun is a head shorter doesn't mean he's not scarier, okay?!

[name] lets out a defeated huff, sighing and pouting and giving up his two packs of cigarettes.

"give me the rest; the ones in your house and on your bike."

"how demanding," [name] mused, the coldness of sieun's voice was bringing forth a familiar heat in [name]'s abdomen, one he wasn't against.

he grabbed the one he stashed in his bike, obediently handing them over, and then they both walked to [name]'s apartment. [name]'s father was a doctor, usually taking shifts late into the night, and his mother was often away on business trips. meaning, he was mostly alone.

it took some time, but [name] retrieved two cigarette packs hidden away in his closet.

"that's all," a sharp look from sieun, "...i promise."

[name] watched silently as sieun dumped all of them in the bin, not the one in his house, but the one a twenty-minute walk away from his house.

"follow me," sieun said, and [name] did, like a dog with a wagging tail.

they reached the store where [name] buys all his cigarettes from. at this point, sieun was dragging him because he 'skipped my classes for this.'

all the way to the back, sieun took five huge boxes of lollipops, and two tubes of strawberry toothpaste.

"i'm paying," he was adamant.

he squared down the cashier, grabbing [name]'s face (who was behind him), and bringing it forward. [name] lifted an eyebrow, amused, but didn't say anything.

"you sell cigarettes to him?" he questioned.

"oh, yeah. you want another pack, i gotcha'," he dared to grab a pack, despite sieun's narrowed eyes.

"look at him, and tell me how old he is," sieun demanded.

the cashier paused, gulped, and replied shakily, "...twenty-one?"

sieun scoffed, "he's seventeen." he finally let go of [name]'s face, who rubbed his jaw, wincing slightly.

"no, he's not!"

"oh? did he tell you he was twenty-one?" sieun knew how [name]'s mind worked; if he was asked for ID, he would've given up then and there, but if he got what he wanted without asking, he would've continued.

"he did." the cashier spoke, quite frankly afraid and lying.

"you're lying. who is your manager, and how old are you."

"no!" the cashier protested, now profusely sweating, "i seriously need this job, please don't do that!"

"i shouldn't have to repe—"

"c'mon, baby, let him go, i swear i won't smoke anymore," [name] placed a hand on top of sieun's head, calming him immediately and pulling him into his own warm body heat.

"if you don't want anything happening to you, quit selling this stuff without checking IDs," sieun glared, and for the last time too because [name] covered his eyes, receiving a protesting yelp, payed for the lollipops and toothpaste, grabbed them and left the store with sieun carried princess-style in his arms.

sieun frailed his legs weakly, opening his mouth to yell, probably, or threaten, but [name] shushed him by stuffing a sweet-caramel lollipop past his lips.

'how cute.'

"d'nt foget t' 'rush yor teth" ("don't forget to brush your teeth.")

[coffee-fueled-cookie]

What do you think the club would be like if you were to marry them

Now, this is probably where I get delusional bc I have to like stretch to make this both appealing for those seeking romance, but realistic enough for the comic truthers. But at the end of the day, if you don't like House wife Josh? Wrap it up

That being said

Josh Levy

"Coffee, stop using Padme and Anakin pictures! They don't even relate to his head canons!" I DON'T CARE, I DO WHAT I WANT 🗣

Now listen

You may think Josh wouldn't be the best husband, that he's as bad as Bill, and maybe... maybe he is, but in my heart

He is the ultimate husband

Josh getting married was a healthy step forward for him. You basically saved him from his fate because now he has something to live for and look towards

Does that mean that he's kind of dependant on you? Yes, and sometimes that's hard in your marriage, but usually, things go pretty smooth

Does cook dinner, tries to develop at least a consistent and normal diet, but I'd believe it's hard. Stress eats when he's upset, you'll find wrappers of things hidden in the trash, old habits die hard

After that fire and his mom dying, things between him and his dad had been really rough, and there was a moment after college where they didn't talk to each other

They probably won't ultimately heal that relationship, but trust that when you both start to get serious, he does actually take the time to introduce you to his Dad

This guy is so deep in his fandom culture that the only cheating you've gotta worry about is his Ao3 tabs and his collected stuff, and even then, he probably sold repeats or unnecessary stuff to actually pay for y'alls wedding

It was a very moving moment for you two (He cried but you're pretty sure part of it was out of pain)

Like in the epilouge, he's probably just Facebook friends with Jerry and Pete, but he doesn't go out with them, they don't hang, he's blocked Bill on EVERYTHING

You're his safe space

Bill Dickey

DIVORCE

The fact this guy actually got married... he bagged a baddie?? Free yourself!

Okay, maybe I'm dramatic, but Epilouge Bill had me ripping my hair out, like how could you POSSIBLY be married to THAT!?

I don't even know what to tell you, this will be the most stretched one

Okay, okay, house wife, but like, doesn't do SHIT house wife

Doesn't know how to cook, will clean but like... complain that he's tired when you get home from work

Does use the money from his ebay gigs to pay for the TV subscriptions tho, so at least there's that

You would think he's miserable folding y'alls undies and sweeping and feeding the cat but honestly this is probably the most chilled out he's been in years

Now all you gotta do is peg him and he'll really evolve

Like I'm serious, the whole shebang, this will help and heal him, I swear it

Will he fight the whole way through? Of course, but you can tell by that light in his eyes and that tightness in his throat that he doesn't mind

He'll probably be vulgar mouthed, call you names, call other people names, but when I tell you that shit holds no malice, he just has high blood pressure

It's a dynamic, that's for sure, and you'll probably still have to deal with his collecting, but as years go by, down the line, he'll consider selling a chunk of it or storing it away

Jerry Stokes

The actual chill guy omg

Biggest thing you gotta worry about is stepping on a miniature he left out or trying to declutter his desk where he'll play his cards or customize shit

A crafty husband

Has paints, card stock, scalpels, all sorts of shit

Magic the gathering cards OUT. THE. ASS. And usually it ain't a problem, bc they're in binders and take up minimal space

But he for sure does magic the gathering youtube videos, and the house must be silent when he does em, so that can be a lil aggravating

You guys have your friend group, not seperate, y'all do everything together, and when you guys aren't, then expect to hear "Where's Jerry?"

I wish I had more to add, you guys get take out every Friday, do breakfast on Saturdays, you guys have a show y'all watch together and get excited when new episodes drop

It's just a very dorky and lovey marriage, there's not much to it

Pete Dinunzio

Y'all probably had a shot gun wedding, very sporadic, super fun, and you woke up with the worst headache imaginable

As for if Y'all knew eachother before then?? That's up to you and your lore

It's super casual, you guys considered yourselves married after sleeping in the same bed for 2 years

You know that couple that looks cool, and do cool shit, and you kinda wish you were spontaneous like them?

But then it turns out they're kinda dysfunctional? Yeah. That's it

If you're fine with him working at Sick MOFO then awesome, that makes life 10x easier

If not... yikes

He lives independently despite having a partner, and sometimes that's great, but when he comes home late as shit without having said anything and you're waiting, crying on the couch and worried, but it turns out he was just hanging with Butchie

That gets old quick

He does try sometimes to touch base and be open, he knows his job can be... problematic for some relationships

So a lot of times he'll make up for it by taking you out, setting time aside strictly for you (this pissed his side bitch Butchie off so bad)

Physical to the max, lays on you full body and sleeps like that, nuzzling on you, blowing raspberries in your neck, he can't keep his hands off

"We're married ain't we? Then I can love on you whenever I want!"

Not necessarily Pete but whatever

[woso-dreamzzz]

Klumpig's Halloween:

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: The fourth of my Halloween-centric fics

Frido sighs as Aitana approaches.

"Don't," She says.

"I haven't even said anything."

"And yet, I knew what you were going to say. So, please, don't."

It seems that everyone in Frido's life has decided to ignore her though because Aitana still speaks.

"She dressed up as you, huh? That's kind of funny."

"It's really not."

"I thought it was funny."

"That's because you've got the same sense of humour as her."

Frido takes a swig of her wine, looks at the glass for a moment before downing the rest like a shot, already reaching for the bottle to refill it again.

You're across the room from her with Vicky and Salma. They're gone the more traditional Halloween route, Salma as a vampire and Vicky as a werewolf.

You've decided against that even though you used to love it.

Frido's whole camera role is filled with pictures of you from your childhood in your cute little Halloween costumes. She can still remember dressing up like a ghost with you and helping you go around town trick-or-treating while your parents got the family Halloween party started.

Somewhere along the way, at some point during those years when Frido left the country and you got older, you'd decided against all the traditional Halloween stuff.

No more masks and cute costumes and insisting that you're 'a unicorn-princess-witch, Frido! Obviously!' in favour of more chilled out costumes that you didn't have to buy and could just scrounge up from your wardrobe.

Maybe you'd even throw on some gory makeup to really sell it but gone are the days of you in a little white sheet with eye holes cut out and fake, oversized teeth.

You were a teenager now and after last year's fiasco of you just dressed as a 'first dead girl' from a horror movie, Frido's done arguing - though she does make sure to take your picture in front of the wall to add to her Halloween collection.

This time though, you've really outdone yourself, deciding to forgo your wardrobe entirely in favour of Frido's.

You're in her Barcelona kit, her shorts, her shirt and her socks. You've taken her favourite pair of football boots and even her shin guards. It was cold when you left the house so you grabbed her Sweden warm up jacket even though your own was perfectly capable of being worn.

"Oh," Ingrid says over the top of her own glass of wine," Here we go."

She glances meaningfully back over at you as Alexia walks over.

"The point of a Halloween party," Alexia says," Is to dress up, Frido. If you don't dress up then the younger players won't dress up."

"I am dressed up."

"You're wearing your football kit. You're hardly dressed up."

"But I am!"

"You're not."

You turn around, relishing in the brief look of surprise that crosses your captain's face. It always takes people a few seconds to realise which Rolfö they're talking to.

"But I am!" You say triumphantly," I'm Frido! I should have brought a wine glass with me but I didn't want to push it."

From across the room, Frido sighs.

"I don't always have a wine glass on me!" She yells.

You look pointedly at her hand and she hastily puts it down.

"You should tell her off, capi," You say to Alexia with a cheeky grin," A glass of wine after every big match to unwind. Isn't that so bad? I mean, you don't even drink during the season. Surely, Frido should follow your lead, right? I mean, you don't want me thinking that what Frido's doing is acceptable?"

"Stop trying to set Alexia on me!" Frido yells back," If I want a glass of wine for putting up with your craziness then I'll have a glass of wine."

You ignore her in favour of laying it on thick with your captain.

"Alexia, are you listening to her? First she's drinking and now she's calling me crazy! You should really bench her!"

"Funny," Alexia says dryly," You must be really getting into character because she asked me to bench you a few weeks ago as well."

You grin. "Well, at least she can't ask you to do that now, seeing as...you know..."

You gesture to your bandaged leg. Most of it is hidden under Frido's shorts and socks but a bit of it peaks out.

Frido sighs, clicking her fingers and pointing in front of her.

On any other day, you'd probably argue a bit about it but you're with the team right now and you know they can only take so much Rolfö cousin bickering.

You hobble over on crutches to stop in front of her.

Frido stands fluidly, placing her glass down on the side table.

"You know I don't like it when you poke fun at your injury," She says, cupping your cheek in one of her hands," It's serious."

"I know," You huff," But it was just a joke. Just trying to keep it light."

"I know but-"

"It is Halloween after all."

Frido rolls her eyes fondly. "You don't think dressing up as me is joke enough?"

She recognises the cheeky grin on your face the moment it curls upwards at the corner of your mouth.

"Oh man," You pretend to groan," But I haven't even gotten to the best part."

"And what exactly is the best part?"

"The part when I do my impression of you when you found out that Brick was coming to stay."

"No! Don't you-"

"She screamed so loud," You tell the group assembled near Frido's seat," And stomped her feet like a little girl. She said something like- Hey! Put me down! Frido!"

Frido easily lifts you over her shoulder.

"I think we're going to call a cab and go home. It's past this one's bedtime."

"I don't have a bedtime! Stop telling people I have a bedtime!"

[lodeddiperactivate]

A new kind of high (Barry x Reader)

Pairing: Barry x fem!reader

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: smut, drugs

Summary: You have never done drugs before but decided you wanted to try it just so you can finally understand what the hype is all about.

Author’s note: I'm obsessed with Barry pls I need him to split me in half. I have a lot of Barry fics coming soon so please reblog if you enjoy this so I would know, and that would fuel this hyperfixation.

You have never done drugs before but decided you wanted to try it just so you can finally understand what the hype is all about.

"Aight princess, so what you need to do is..." Barry started explaining the basics.

You've only met him a couple of times in passing when Rafe needed supply. And even though, everyone has warned you to stay away from him, the truth is that you were intrigued, which is another way of saying you had a crush on him. You couldn't really help it when he's so flirty with you but you do know that there is a dark side to him, which is why he was not your first or second choice when you finally decided to try drugs.

"Rafe, come on, you're really saying No to this? You?"

"I'm sorry but I have to go to the mainland today for business. Why don't you ask Topper to teach you?"

"I already did but then he freaked out so I think he might rat me out to my parents. I need someone I can trust!"

"I'm sorry but I have to go now. We'll do it when I come back!"

"Yeah, in two weeks!" You called out to him as he boarded the truck with his dad. You sighed and decided to walk back home. That was when you saw Barry talking to one of the kooks, probably selling them stuff.

You stood there for a while, deciding if you want to ask him to help you out. You decided against it and started walking away when you heard him call your name.

"Oh hey Barry."

"Hi princess, is country club at home right now?"

"He just left for the mainland, won't be back until the end of the month."

"Shit, I swear that kid's gonna take a beating when he comes back."

You haven't realized it but you were now looking at the small bag of white powder in his hands. He looked down at what you were looking at.

"Saw something you like?" He said as he lifted the bag.

"Oh no, I was..." you stuttered. "Yes, err maybe?"

Barry gave a light chuckle before admiring you in your cute yellow sundress. Your innocence intrigued him but he was mostly impressed with your insane level of curiosity.

He moved closer and placed a hand on your lower back guiding you closer to his side as he whispered, "Come on, let's go back to my place and I'll teach you how," he said as if reading your mind. You obliged.

~

"Aight princess, so what you need to do is bring your nose closer like this and snort the line," after Barry showed you how it's done, it was your turn. Surprisingly it was not as bad or difficult as you thought it was.

"Good girl," he whispered in your ear. You can feel your pussy pulsate at his words. You find yourself leaning closer to him as if in a trance, wanting to close the gap between the two of you. You snapped out of it when you heard him talk.

"You alright, princess?" He had his hands on your shoulder to steady you.

"Yeah sorry, I just didn't expect the effects to be that quick," you said as he did another line. He looked at you and grinned.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just thought you were one of the good ones."

"The good ones? What's the supposed to mean? I can be bad," you tried to defend yourself.

"That's not what I meant, dollface," Barry said as he rested his arm on the back of the couch, leaning closer so that your lips are mere inches away from one another. You haven't realized it but your hand was on his knees, supporting your weight as you leaned even closer.

"I know you can be bad," his other hand pushed the hair over your shoulders as it trails down to play with the strap of your sundress. "Why don't you show me how bad you are hmm?"

You half-breathed, half-moaned his name before allowing your lips to crash on his. You were quick to reposition yourself so that you were straddling him on the couch. His hands found its way to your ass, lifting your dress along the way so that there's little fabric between your pussy and his cock. You grinded on top of him and you feel him groaned and moaned your name into the kiss.

With one quick move, he unbuckled his belt and lowered his shorts to reveal his fully erect cock. You moaned at the sight, obviously feeling the full effects of the drugs now, you instinctively got off him and on your knees ready to taste him.

"Why don't you show me what that pretty mouth can do?" His voice was like honey and you mindlessly licked him from base to tip, before sucking him fully. Barry threw his head back and grabbed your head, guiding you.

"Oh baby, you're so bad," he said encouraging you. "I bet none of the guys on your side of the town can make you feel this kind of rush huh?"

You lifted your head up to him smirking, "you have no idea how boring that side of town is."

"Hmmm you get off on a little danger huh, a little fear?" Barry said as he pulled out a gun from the back of his shorts. You froze at the sight of the gun.

"Don't worry baby, not gonna hurt ya, come here."

You straddle him and he arranged a line of coke on the flat portion of the barrel, and he held it up to your face. "Go on baby, it's gonna feel so good," he encouraged. Your mind was hazy from the first but you can feel yourself get even more wet from this whole thing. You grind on top of him, trying to feel as much as you can of him as you snorted the line on his gun. He then proceeded to lift your dress and pull your panties to the side so he can tease you by rubbing his tip at the entrance of your pussy. The knot in your stomach becomes more evident as you cannot control your whimpers, you rested your head on Barry's shoulders as he positioned himself, ready to enter you.

"It's alright princess, I got you," he said as he slowly dipped the tip inside you. You moaned his name into his ear. He couldn't believe this was happening, he had always to some extent fantasized about you but never really did anything as he thought his lifestyle was too much for you. Seeing that you were more than interested in learning all of it, he took that opportunity and eased himself even more inside you. Your walls accepted him as you feel every inch of him inside you, hitting all the right spots.

"Barry, please.." that was all he needed to bottomed himself inside you. You yelped at the impact but slowly adjusted. He was big and thick and filled you in all the right ways. You started to slowly grind on him, your hands on his chest supporting yourself. He looked up at you with hooded eyes and your head was thrown back, moaning his name again and again.

"Never thought I'd hear you moan my name like that princess. Fuck!"

You looked at him and smirked, "told you I'm not some fragile spoiled kook," you leaned in to whisper in his ears seductively, "I can take it."

"Oh yeah?" Barry grinned as he burried his nails on your hips, holding you into place, and proceeded to rail you thrusting his hips upwards so you can take more of him. You were held in place by Barry's strong grip so all you could do was hold the back of the sofa for support and another hand on Barry's chest. Your mouth was wide open and your eyes rolling from pleasure. Barry has no intention of slowing down and you were almost at your limits. Barry kept pounding you, thrusting his hips upward as he brought yours down, matching the rhythm perfectly.

"Barry, please, I'm close!"

"That's right, such a needy little slut, tell me what you want baby."

"I wanna come! I wanna come! I'm gonna come!"

"Shit, me too baby. Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside me, please, I want it. I need it!"

"Fuck!" Barry moaned as he felt you cum all over him, followed by him blowing his cum all over your insides.

You collapsed on top of him, him still inside you. You rested your head on his chest as you tried to calm your breathing. Coming down from the high, Barry let out a low hum as he stroked your back and hair, pushing it away from your face. You grinded a few times before letting him slip out of you.

You were both still breathing heavily as you sat side by side, slouched on the sofa. When you looked up at him, he had his eyes closed. He can feel you watching him.

"So how much do I owe you for the coke?" You jokingly ask.

He opened his eyes and looked at you, he had a wild grin on his face. He leaned closer so you were looking directly into his deep rich brown eyes, "Maybe I can come up with a different kind of payment method for you," he said as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

[stzrgirl4norris]

My Kink Is Karma

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a turbulent break up, Max left you all alone, dealing with the pain from his poisonous words. He was thriving, having the time of his life, and you were determined to see his downfall.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do that), degradation, Mean!Max, Mean! Reader, they are both toxic to each other, revenge sex, hate sex. All the good stuff

I'm on my Max kick later, specially since the last race. Hope you guys can enjoy my freak with me!!

Three months, twenty eight days since he left.

Actually, since you left. No, even worse, since you were kicked out of his stupid cubicle of an apartment. Why is every goddamn apartment in Monaco so small either way? It's like millionaires have a kink for minimalism or something. There were still a couple of his t-shirts hanging around, shoved down the back of a drawer you never opened. You contemplated burning them down, one by one, or selling them on e-bay, you would probably make a lot of money with it. However, the anger was still boiling hot in your bones, opened. You contemplated burning them down, one by one, or selling them on e-bay, you would probably make a lot of money with it. However, the anger was still boiling hot in your bones, picking up anything with his scent on it would cause world war three, and you didn't want that.

Not because you don't hate him, you do, wholeheartedly, but you would rather see the universe handle it, slowly, sadistically, because you always believed in karma, plus, he didn't deserve any type of reaction from you.

However, almost four months is a whole lot of time of waiting for Max Verstappen to get something bad coming his way. Somehow, that blue eyed man is always on top. McLaren had the fastest car and he was still dominating, pole position, podiums, even fucking won a race against all odds. Max Verstappen not only defied your beliefs around love, but your beliefs in general. He tested your faith. Because in this wednesday afternoon, sitting on your plane sit, next to a crying baby and an exhausted mother, you were wondering if the universe gave a flying damn about how much that man hurt you. Gods Are you listening over there? He left me with no direction, no sense of belonging, stole my pride, joy and clothes. I was left empty. So why the fuck is he the one thriving?

That's why you decided to make matters with your own hands. Karma isn't real? No problem. You would create karma and shove it down his throat. Max Verstappen is not going to hell when he dies? Then, you will make sure he lives through hell while you are around. And the plan starts with a suitcase and an economic class ticket to Bahrain.

The city was scalding. The complete opposite of an early spring in Monaco. Too many people, a legion of tourists who were there for the Grand Prix. You looked around, analyzing the environment, but he was everywhere. In t-shirts, flags, posters, dolls. "The flying dutchman", "The Dutch Lion". That was the worst one. A lion? That motherfucker was just as coward as a toddler being confronted by their angry parent.

Hey. Just landed. Where was the place / was supposed to wait for the driver?

Max: Gate seven. He's already there.

You don't answer. He doesn't deserve an answer.

On the other hand, if the plan was going to work perfectly, you needed him to believe you were desperate for him. Because Max has an ego, he craves the attention. It's Machiavellian, but any current pain is worth the final result. What even is a single text message compared to seeing Max Verstappen’s downfall live and in bright colors?

You walked towards gate seven. Sure enough, the man was there, holding a little white plank with your surname written on it. As if it was needed, since to his left, there he was, wearing his stupia red bull cap, white t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

Classic Max. You weren't taken by surprise, at the end of the day, Verstappen was as predictable as playing chess with a child, at least to you. You knew he was going to be there, just to torment you, prove, somehow, that he never left, his scent, manners, soul, were all surrounding you, everyday since that rainy tuesday when all hell broke loose.

As you approached both men with a confidence acquired from whatever cheap wine they offered on the flight, you could swore you saw a glimpse of relief in his arctic blue eyes.

Max was relieved. Seeing you, full shape, materialized in front of him like a dying man's last vision, as beautiful as ever, maybe even more, left him with a feeling of immense relief. Because ever since the break up, he never saw or spoke to you.

He didn't even understand how the hell that was possible, considering Monaco was just a big gated commune. He had no idea, however, that for those three months you barely left your bed, purposefully avoiding him. The funny thing is, Max could've swore on his career that he saw a different type of glimmer surrounding you, because as you gave him a shy kiss on the cheek, shivers went down his neck, all the way though his spine. There was uncertainty in his mind if, at that moment, you were a salvation from heaven or his worst nightmare.

"I didn't actually think you would come?" He couldn't control the excitement in his voice. To you? Pathetic.

"You know Bahrain has always been my favorite circuit." Lies. "Plus, I really wanted to talk." More lies. Oh, weren't you just the best pretty little liar?

'I agree"

Max had no idea of what you planned. With all the innocence of a little boy in love, who fucked up, he believed that you wanted to try again, that you were able to give him another chance. If for three months you were crying underneath the shower steam, he was begging via text messages, voicemails, red roses and handwritten notes to talk to you and sort things out. In his mind, his words were bad, a disaster. "Your career isn't important, you can't keep crying over this shit." Actually, the words were bad, but the context was even worse. To be fair, you were crying over a minor problem, a grain of sand in the midst of long beach, still, that was the result of a build-up that lasted weeks, days having to suffer countless abuse in your job, burnout was imminent. Haven't you been breaking down, releasing every tension from the stress of your career, you could have actually forgiven him. In contrast, the coldness and nonchalant in his voice when saying "your career isn't important" was what actually got to you. "So, I can't cry over my boss raging at me from mistakes he made, but you can cry whenever your stupid little car isn't 0.5 seconds faster than another car? Why? Because being a Formula 1 racer is the only job that matters? Huh, Max?"

That whole argument spiraled to a rabbit hole of pointing fingers and repressed emotions. Deep down, you knew you hated your job, you wanted to leave every time you stepped a foot in that building, but Max didn't need to know that. And he had no right assuming that it wasn't important.

Arriving at his hotel, the boy next to you handled a room key. 405.

"It's right next to mine"

You gave him a look, the one that said "well, obviously." Another predictable move. God, if any other driver paid enough attention to him, you were convinced he wouldn't be called Mad Max at all, because, in reality, Verstappen was as clear as a crystal glass.

The whole way up to the room, Max was a gentleman, carrying bags, hands on your lower back, guiding the way, walking in front. Just like you never stopped being his girlfriend. Maybe, in his mind, you never did.

The room was brightened with yellow lights, contrasting to the cold of the atmosphere between both ex-lovers. Even though you were trying your best to not give anything away, Max wasn't stupid, he could read you with eyes closed, he knew there was an unsettledness in your movements, he just couldn't point exactly why or what is going on.

"Do you want me to leave? Or do you just want to get it out of the way?" Max didn't quite know what he meant with "it", whatever it was, it has been filling his lungs with deep anxiety. And you knew he was suffering. For a man who was used to get anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, being completely lost in the matters of the heart, hurt his pride and gave him tremendous affliction.

"I was hoping we could catch a nice dinner, properly talk with some good food and wine. What do you say?" The words came off of your tongue spontaneously, as if you didn't rehearse them 300 hundred times during that 11 hour flight.

"Sure, yeah, fine. Even better with people around... That way you won't have the courage to kill me." You could hear the tension in his words when he joked, and he could hear the mockery in your chuckle just as well.

"Pick me up at eight?"

The fact that you made no comment around his stupid joke bothered him to his core. Which is the reason he just nodded and left the room without saying anything else. Just as soon as that door closed, you rushed to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. You couldn't say what the fuck you were feeling, nausea, pain, anxiety, shame, guilt, rage. You should just open the door, go to his room, throw things around, break glasses, throw his suitcase on the hotel pool, tell the press he is leaving red bull and get on a plan, never look back. Having to wait for revenge to be served cold is what drives everyone insane, and no one talks about that.

Countless of hours later, after two long crying sessions, and screaming, and burning pages of your journal, you were ready. Dressed up casually. You wouldn't give him too much, because you knew he was expecting to show up as beautiful as ever, Lady Di in her revenge dress, so the fact that you were just dressed as his Y/N, raw, honest beauty, broke his heart. Because when he opened the door to your room, he was taken by your perfume and your pure self, just like he did for three years every time he came home from a race weekend and you were waiting for him on the couch.

"Come on, Max, you don't need to give this look." You were surprised by how effective flirting was in maskaring hate.

"What look?"

"Like I'm your long lost childhood love you encountered 20 years later." He shook his head, slightly.

"You're something like that."

Something like that. What the fuck did he mean?

"We should go." You said a little bit more desperate than you hoped. Maybe due to the fact that you were dying to leave. "Lead the way."

*

God. Wasn't middle eastern food the key to all your problems? Maybe if the scent of blended spices and dates filled your nostrils before, there would be no reason for any of this.

For the past couple of hours, you were focused on trying to enjoy the delights Sakhir had to offer.

Notice the word trying. Because with Max Verstappen looking like a god sent angel in front of you, no amount of cloves and cinnamon would be able to erase the scent of wanting that was emanating from him.

Max was paying extra attention to you. Every time you looked excited about whatever you were tasting, he could catch a proper breath. However, one look into your eyes later and he has filled with thousands of questions in his head.

"So, what is the strategy for this weekend?"

"Do you actually want to talk about my racing strategies for the weekend?" Yes. You did. How were you supposed to ruin his life if you had no clue what was going on with the only thing that mattered to him. "You said you wanted to talk, Y/ N."

"We are talking." He raised his eyebrow. You sighed, stomach twisting in ten thousand knots.

"Fine..."

Before you could select which carefully constructed phrase you compartmentalized for this very moment, Max, with his usual quickness, took the upfront.

"Please, come back to me."

It's not that you weren't expecting that he would say something like this, you just weren't expecting how much your internal organs would fire up as a response. In that particular moment, you could swore you forgot all of the lines of the plan you spent one month obsessing over. He broke your character, for just a slight of a second, a fraction.

"You really hurt me." For the first time in this whole entire trip, you were being honest.

"I know. I am truly deeply sorry. I fucked up."

You just stared. Contemplating if you were going to let him talk a little more. The dark twisted part of your brain was enjoying seeing him act as pathetic as you once did for him. That same side of your brain was already collecting ideas. Screw that one month evil plan, Max was giving everything you need to do even more damage than you anticipated.

"Let me show you how much I regret it. Let me make it up to you." The phrase was constructed as if he was asking for permission, but both of you knew, deep down, that he wasn't backing up any soon.

"These past few months were hell to me, Max."

The words were true, but there was no emotion in your voice to actually reflect the pain you went through. Max had no idea. He would never guess.

It seemed to him that you were giving something, but a weird feeling in his gut was sparking a doubt that you were hiding something.

"I will fix this up."

His legs under the table were shaking like the first time he stepped out of a Formula 1 car. Max was speaking as he was walking barefoot on shattered glass. There is no way for you to fix this up. Only me. You wanted to answer. You couldn't.

"Are you excited for the race?"

The deviation of the subject showed Max you were uncomfortable, which is why he decided that was enough of pushing. He didn't know there was a strategy underneath your tongue.

"Are you?" He fired back, letting himself taste a bit of the wine that you chose. It was bitter, dry, unlike the sweet rosés you'd usually go for.

"Thrilled." Your lips curled into a smirk stained with maroon liquid. Something shifted in the tone of your words. It was malicious, Max could sense it, but he was a man after all, guile and sexiness go hand-in-hand, specially coming from a girl holding a glass of wine.

ready to head back, whenever you want to go."

"Are we not going to order dessert?"

Nope. He wanted to leave. Matter of fact, as soon as possible. He wanted to take you to his room, or your room, whichever one is closest to the elevator door, and peel off every lying secret you were hiding behind your sore, tired eyes.

"Do you want dessert?"

You looked at his eyes, then his lips, then his neck, back at his eyes. Licked your lips, the bitterness of the wine reminding you of pure sex.

"Maybe not from here."

You knew you had control over him by the way he looked at you, like a puppy begging for food. Max didn't even try to hide how much he was longing to just touch you in any way, shape, or form. God, men were so easy.

A few formalities and street lights later, you were back to the golden architecture of the place you were staying. It wasn't your first time in the country, but it was your first time in this hotel, hadn't it been the circumstances of your visit, you could have actually enjoyed the experience.

The elevator door shut, fourth floor was a short ride. Helped to ease the tension. Not too much, but just enough.

"I can't find the key to my room."

Max knew it was inside your purse, you knew it too, obviously. There was just no reason to bother looking it up.

"Hm. Thankfully, I got you." He held the white car between his fingers, flashing them with a teenage boy smile.

"My hero,"

For the first time during this night, you felt the tension leaving with the winds of Sakhir. Sex was not on your plan, in fact, quite the opposite.

However, you forgot there was no such thing as a plan when it came to Max Verstappen. Specially not when it came to desire and love. Plus, a girl is allowed to enjoy herself, it's not like you were going to get soft on him now, right?

The closing door blocked all the noise. Suddenly, the room was carried with heavy air, lost faith, gained hope, misery, all at once. If you listened closely, you were able to hear Max's heart beating irregular beats. It felt to him like he was about to have a stroke, a heart attack, a breakdown, or all of the above. You were danger, your presence was too powerful. He needed to get control back, or he would just spiral.

But you would not let him. Not right now.

Just as quick as you left him that night, you were pulling him by his neck. Lips connected like they were never meant to leave each other in the first place. Looking for each other's air because the room was getting smaller and smaller. This was the point of the night in which you didn't need to perform. You were not doing it for the plot, the revenge, you were doing it because you desperately craved him.

Max had only a few times seen you this way. It was unusual, but he wasn't complaining. He didn't quite like the fact that if you asked him to kneel down and bark, he'd do it, however. And he was afraid you'd notice it and just torture him the whole night. The boy was just a little too late.

"You said you wanted to make it up to me." Max didn't know how you managed to get a full sentence out in the middle of what was going on, if he opened his mouth all that would leave his throat were pathetic sighs and moans. "Then prove it."

You pushed him away, slightly. Max's chest underneath his navy blue t-shirt didn't hide his erratic breathing.

"I am proving it to you."

He leaned in, but was met with another slight push. This time, mixed between his confusion, was frustration. Just as much as you wanted him, he wanted you. No, he needed you. Needed to be close to you as if there was a war going on outside and that was the only way to keep both of you safe.

"No." No? What the hell no meant? "Kneel."

Your command was firm, imperative. You were no stranger to take charge in the bedroom with Max, but it usually lasted around five minutes, a way to spice things up or push him to the edge until he finally broke. In a way, it was fake-control, because you knew it was just a matter of time until you were at his mercy. But not this time.

"What?" He heard you well, the question was put there simply as a way of making you change your mind.

"You heard me, Verstappen. Kneel and beg for me."

Max didn't have a chance to respond or brush it off with a scoffed laugh, your hands were already on his shoulders, applying force to bring him down. It wasn't gravity the one who put Max Verstappen to his knees, it was the magnetic force of your words and the torment of his desires for you.

"Schatje, come on."

"Hm. That all you got?"

The truth is, Max was running out of protests. You knew it took him a lot to put his pride to the side.

He wanted you back, but there was no way he was going to beg for it. Max Verstappen doesn't beg, for anyone. Actually, he never needed to, he always got what he wanted. But his resources were coming to an end, because your posture and the way you were demanding the room, left him with no choice.

With the gentlest touch, like you were made out of the rarest crystal, Max's hand came to the back of your calves, slowly making their way to the back of your knees. He stopped there, didn't dare going further up. His hands were big enough to almost wrap around it completely, and he applied pressure. It was a simple gesture, but goddamn it you missed his fingers touching you, you didn't care where.

You looked down, right hand travelling to his hair, fingers intertwining between some strands, making a mess. He always looked beautiful with messy hair.

"Please." A kiss on your right knee. "Please, forgive me." A kiss on the left knee. "I will do anything for you."

The hand that was on his hair made its way to his cheek. Your thumb brushing the soft skin underneath his eyes. Max was flushing, the blood was rushing everywhere through his veins, heart pounding, maybe after this he should cancel his weekend, because there is no way he would make it out alive.

Then, all of the sudden, your gentle rub became a slap. Not a rough slap, in fact, only a couple of taps, to call out his attention. And, damn, maybe a hard slap would be less humiliating than this. And it didn't help when you had a devilish grin in your lips.

"Come on, pretty boy, just a little bit more. You're almost there. Look at me."

He was. Like a puppy. Like a dog starving. His pupils were so dilated you couldn't tell his eyes were pale blue. You were hell. That wasn't you. Looked like you, wore your clothes, the same old vanilla perfume, but if his whole life Max saw you as his sweet girl, this time he was seeing you as a mythical creature, completely transformed into something else.

"I fucked up. I can't live without you. Please, Y/N, I am about to go insane. I fucking love you, just come back to me, please. I can't make it without you." His chin rested somewhere on top of your legs.

You smiled. Humiliating Max sexually was not a part of the plan, but it was so satisfactory you could go straight back home with fulfillment in your bones.

"Good enough."

You backed out and walked straight to the door. In a sudden movement, Max got up, his legs felt like jelly, his head was spinning. There was no time for him to catch up, you had already left. He heard something like a see you tomorrow, but wasn't completely sure. In that particular moment he was out. Interpreting his feelings wasn't always easy, and right now it sure as hell was the hardest thing for him to do, considering there was a mix of everything inside his guts.

It took all of your strength to not go back, just to get a glimpse of how Max Verstappen looked completely desolated, alone in his hotel room, frustrated, confused. Exactly like you were that afternoon, three months ago. If you suffered, he was going to suffer the exact same thing, but ten times more.

*

"Max, you good? Looks like you're about to throw up."

Sitting in a round table, his salad was untouched, his cup still filled with water. The voices were mushy, he couldn't tell which driver elaborated that question. Truth is, he wasn't paying attention to anything else, too busy looking around, searching for any glimpse of you. Anything to demonstrate that you were still there, because you could probably be back home by now, laughing while sitting on your sofa, seeing his misery on live television.

He was brought back to the real world with Charles' voice commanding his attention, because finally, for the first time during that stupid lunch, someone said something that actually mattered.

"Mate, what is Y/N doing here? I thought you two broke up."

"Where is she?" His voice sounded so desperate, so pathetic, Lando couldn't help but chuckle.

"Just saw her talking to Honer when I passed the Red Bull garage. Could've swore I was seeing things, but it was actually her. Are you two back together?"

Midst sentence Max was already gone, rushing through the crowd as fast as he could before it was too late. He looked desperate, like he was looking for water in a desert island.

The meters to the garage seemed like the distance to the moon. His eyes were filled by the sigh of Horner, talking to someone else, not relevant, nor for him, because the someone else wasn't you. The conversation seemed important, and it would be rude to interrupt, but Max couldn't care less.

"Christian, where is Y/N?"

Horner turned around to look at his driver, bright fake smile. A little annoyed that he interrupted, but there was no way he was going to show Verstappen any annoyance.

"Well, hello to you too, Max. I was meaning to ask, what is she doing here? Thought you left her."

"Where the fuck is she?" Max asked again, this time his tone showed little to no patience.

Horner narrowed his eyes, if anyone else in this world talked to him like this, God would feel sorry for them. But again, the golden boy could do anything he pleased.

"If I'm not mistaken, she was looking for you. My guess is that she is waiting on your driver room."

The boy left. No thank you, no sorry, just simply vanished like dust.

The fragile door was opened with violence. This time, Max was quicker, not giving you a chance to play your game.

Eventually, after two days of deep contemplation, torture and screaming into his pillow, Max decided that he had enough of your games. Now, both of you were going to play things his way. Or so he thought.

"Why the fuck are you here? What the fuck do you want?"

You were sitting, legs crossed. His presence was dominating, but you didn't break character.

"What happened to good mornings? No one taught you proper manners?"

"Cut the fucking bullshit, Y/N. Why are you doing this?"

You got up, making your way towards him. Not too close and Max thanked God for that, because one more step and he would just break down again, crumble into crushed pieces of a boy. However, standing from a safe distance, his mind was taken by frustration, he wanted answers just as well as he wanted to rip your clothes off and make you pay for the little stunt you pulled two nights ago.

"I want to see you suffer."

You knew he would eventually caught up. It's Max, he is smart. And if anyone would understand the reasonings behind your feelings, it would be him.

So there was no reason to hide your true intentions anymore.

Max nodded, hands on his waist. He expressed some sort of laugh as a substitute for just yelling and screaming. He had done that already.

"How's that going for you?"

"Not nearly as close as the amount of suffering I am hoping for." Max was taken back by the cruelness and coldness in your words. "I want you to regret leaving me 'til the day you are buried six feet under ground. If you suffered ten times of what I did for those past months, still, wouldn't be enough.”

"I don't know how to break this to you, sweetheart. But making me kneel and beg, although I appreciate the effort, it was cute, isn't really close to the pain of getting dumped. You'll have to work harder than that."

Your lips curled into a wide spread smile.

"I know."

Up and close to his eyes, between your delicate fingers, a medium sized black piece of something he had an idea of, but didn't want to believe it was real.

"What is this?"

"You should get going, Maxie, quali is about to begin."

"You removed a piece from my fucking car?! Are you fucking insane?! This is psychotic, Jesus fucking Christ!" His eyes widened, his hands went through his hair in a desperate act. "How the fuck did you even manage to do that?!"

"A lady never tells."

Max thanked the universe when he heard a knock on the door, because God only knows what his next move was going to be, hadn't he been interrupted by GP at that second.

"Buddy, we have 10 minutes, you better come." He looked at the clueless man standing at the door, then back at you, who put on your best innocent smile, hands behind your back like you just didn't do the most devilish, disgraceful thing he has ever seen.

"Yeah, okay, give me two seconds.

As GP closed the door, Max took a step closer to you. He contemplated letting people know, snitching on you, but he held his anger and shoved the burning flames to the back of his throat. He wasn't going to play your game. If you were bad, Max Verstappen was worse.

Max's next move wasn't what you were expecting at all. With the gentleness of a first kiss, he brought his lips to your forehead, like he always did before stepping to his car, however, this time, taking a little bit longer, savouring the feeling of your skin beneath him.

"See you later, Schatje."

You were confused. Angry, even, by his reaction.

And then, when he finally left, you felt it. The shame, the guilt. You knew you went too far, but you were too blind by hatred, and too hungry for seeing him break.

On the other hand, Max walked into his car with the confidence and determination he hadn't felt in a while. It was Red Bull. This was a secure place, there were a innumerous amount of people there watching his fucking car. There was no chance that you, clueless girl, could just walk up there and steal a piece of whatever that thing was. God, you didn't even know how a Formula 1 car worked, how the hell were you supposed to remove an important piece? Max thought, hoped, wished, that you just took something he could manage to work without, and it was what gave him a little bit of relief stepping into the car.

Nonetheless, as quick as the relief came, it was washed away by a thought so much darker, what if you had help?

"Hey, Paul." Max called out for the man to his left.

"The car is good, yeah?"

"You tell me, mate." Paul joked around, not quite understanding the driver's question.

"No, I mean, the car is intact, right? Nothing missing?"

Paul arched an eyebrow.

"Of course, Max, it's all good."

The driver nodded and soon enough left with his car.

Qualifying started. You watched nervously through the screen in the garage. Maybe you crossed the line. On the other hand, you knew Max wasn't stupid, he made sure you knew with that ridiculous kiss. No other man could drive you insane. Two days later you were reading him like your favorite book, now, you couldn't tell a word inside his brain, except for, of course, how badly he was cursing you.

And boy... He was. Every time he made a turn and the car trembled he found a new name to curse you inside his mind. Thank God the FlA couldn't hear thoughts, at least twenty thousand fines were proffered only in the first five minutes.

The car was shit, unsteady. It was honestly scaring Max how unpredictable it was. Never in his entire career he felt so uneasy with a vehicle, not even in his rookie years.

"There is something really wrong with the car."

Max added in a frustrated radio message before firing back to his garage.

The crew was there, waiting for him. He stepped out of the car and let the engineers take a look.

You managed to catch a glimpse of him, even though his face was hiding behind the helmet, you knew he was contorted in desperation. You couldn't believe it. For better or for worse, your plan fucking worked.

The engineers cleared the way and Max tried again, completely incredulous on how you managed to ruin his entire race weekend. There was no way your relationship was going to make it after this. Max didn't even know if he was going to make it after this, he might just shove the car into a wall and die inside of it just to prove a point, watch you suffer with guilt until the end of your life.

By the last lap he was third.

Q2 was a bit better than Q1, that until someone crashed their car. Perfect, not only were you ruining his day, but the universe also decided to collaborate with your evil plan. Maybe you got Max's rivals to be a part of it. Maybe the whole entire team and crew were by your side.

By Q3 Max started to actually considering driving his car to the wall. The breaks weren't working. He couldn't break, at all. You fucking destroyed his breaks. You toyed with his car like it was a lego piece. At the end of that session, taking seventh place, Max stormed out of the car and threw his gloves on the floor. He just wanted to get everything off, his clothes, his helmet, his shoes. He wanted to go back home, to his cats, to his pillow, cry for hours.

Yes, the disaster of a bad qualifying hurt, but it was the heartbreak that got to him. Never in a million years he thought the love of his life would be capable of doing something so cruel and evil.

That wasn't normal. A normal thing would be for you to burn his hoodies or slash the tyres of his Porsche. You manipulated his car, possibly messing with his safety. You weren't the love of his life, you were a full blown psychopath. Which is the reason Max thanked that you weren't in his driver's room when he came back.

That being said, he wasn't so blessed when he opened his hotel room and found you sitting on his bed, wearing the same clothes as you were in the afternoon.

"Are you fucking for real? You have some guts coming into my room thinking that I would actually want to see you. I take everything back, I don't want you! I fucking hate you! I want you gone! I want to never look at your face again! You are the most terrible person I have ever met."

He was shouting, yelling, clenching his teeth and jawline. Stomping around like a maniac while the explosive bursts of verbal thunder left his mouth.

"Max, please, let me explain." You didn't raise your voice, you couldn't, you were wrong here.

"Explain what?! Huh?! How you manipulated my car?! Played around with my safety?! Almost killed me?! God, Y/N, I love you and you do this? This isn't normal, this isn't alright, this isn't something you fix with an explanation. There is no fixing this."

His voice became lower, not because he wasn't angry, he still was outrageous, but now the sadness of a heartbreak were too consuming, surpassing every emotion that was battling inside his mind and heart. There were tears in his eyes and they were the bluest you have ever seen. His lips were pink, trembling. His cheeks and nose were red. You felt an agonizing need to hold him.

"Max, you need to breathe." Poor choice of words, you could see it in his entire face as his eyes became shallow. "I didn't alter your car."

Max was about to lash out again, but he didn't believe his ears. As much as he hated you right now, you caught his attention. He didn't slow down, though, his chest was heavy, he was close to breaking down.

"Come again?"

"I didn't take any piece from your car!"

He could see you were crying now and he could swear you seemed honest, like a child trying to prove to their parents that they weren't the one in the wrong.

"Yes, you fucking did, you showed me! Do you seriously think I am going to believe your bullshit right now?"

"No, I didn't, this isn't anything! It's just a stupid piece of plastic!"

In a desperate attempt you held the black piece close to his face.

His vision was blurry, by tears, by confusion and hatred. He caught the piece and analyzed every corner of it. It didn't seem legit, it seemed, like you said, just a piece of plastic.

"What the actual-"

"-I just wanted you to believe I did. I wanted to scare you. I wanted to make you doubt yourself. I would never do anything that would actually put you in danger, Max, I love you. I wanted to prove a point." He couldn't believe it. In fact, he thought he was hallucinating the whole weekend and this was all a twisted nightmare, "Yes, it was selfish, I am wrong, I crossed the line. But I thought you were going to catch up to it. I didn't believe it was going to work, you are you, Max"

Now, add skepticism to the list of emotions inside his gut.

"But the fucking car was shit! The breaks weren't working! I couldn't drive that thing at all!"

"That has nothing to do with me."

Max couldn't tell if he was relieved by the fact that you didn't try to kill and you still loved him, or felt betrayed by how you manipulated his reality to the point he drove like shit just because he believed something was wrong with the car. Or maybe Red Bull just fucking sucks. Both later options were not respectful outcomes to him.

"Please, say something. I am so sorry, Max! I regret it. I should have never done it, I know. I am so sorry. I understand if you never want to see me again and, God, I'll even move from Monaco if that's what you like. I'll disappear, completely."

Your words hit him. He thought about them for a split second. The thought of you leaving his life, to him, was death. Sure, what you did was not okay, he was heartbroken, it would take time to heal. However, the more he thought about it, the more willing he was to try. If you were able to give him a second chance, he should give you the benefit of the doubt. You were taken by passion, by heartache and overwhelming sadness, Max wasn't a stranger to strong bursts of emotions and impulsiveness, which is why, deep down, he understood why you did what you did. Maybe, if he was in your shoes, he would've done worse.

"We are too old for shit like this, Y/N."

You could feel he was a bit more relaxed, which is why you felt an openness to just hold him. You didn't care if he wasn't going to hold you back, you just wanted to show him how much you regret your childish ploy.

"I know, baby, I am so sorry, I love you."

Fair enough, Max didn't hold you back. Instead, he pushed you away, another idea forming in the back of his twisted, unserious mind.

"You're going to work a little bit harder than this, sweetheart, if you want my forgiveness."

In his eyes, you could see there was still anger painted in the black of his pupils, but mixed with the gleam of his almost dried tears, you noticed a different kind of sparkle, one he saw in your eyes two nights ago.

"Do you want me to kneel and beg?"

Max took a step back.

"I want you to kneel, but I think your mouth can do better things than begging."

There was a feeling of delirium happening in the back of your mind, that carefully traveled through your veins as if you had take the most powerful drug available in the market. In just a matter of seconds you were down on your knees, hands playing with the hem of Max's shorts. You looked up, as if asking for permission to take them off. To Max, that was a vision out of the walls of the louvre, you, down, eyes sparkling with sultry glamour, mouth watering.

With an attentive movement, you pulled down his shorts, leaving a trail of kisses on the inside of his thigh, making sure you were scratching every inch of his skin, treating him as if he was the cure to all your worries and troubles. He might as well be.

"Get to it, my love, no teasing."

"Where's the fun in that?" You asked with a tint of playfulness in your voice.

"You're not really in a position to have fun. You either put those pretty lips to use or I will leave you here with nothing."

"Well, since you asked so politely."

You completely removed his boxers, facing his cock. Your mouth watered. You made sure you spread enough saliva around, licking every inch of him, paying extra attention to his sensitive spots you were well familiar with, before taking him with gluttony, tasting every bit he was giving.

Your hands were everywhere, scratching his thighs, caressing his balls, while you moved your head, feeling him in the back of your throat, around your lips.

Max was in pure bliss, his organs were electrified.

He swore you got better since the break up. Or maybe it was the absence that made it much more intimate, filthy, delicious.

"Jesus, Schatje, you're so dirty." He ran his fingers through your hair until he decided to guide your movements with his hands, slowly, making sure the pace was comfortable for both of you. "You look so pretty when you're doing what I want."

He went a bit further and you gagged in response, moaning right after. The vibrations coming from your throat sent Max into a frenzy. You swirled your tongue around his head, looking up through your eyelashes, exactly the way he liked. You loved giving Max blowjobs, it was as pleasurable for you as for him and he could tell, and there was nothing hotter to Max than seeing you get aroused by giving him pleasure.

Each time his cock hit your throat, he could feel he was getting closer.

"Don't stop, keep sucking me off, keep going." You just obeyed, feeling yourself get hotter by the second, you knew your panties were gone by now, yet you still craved more. You needed to taste him more, you needed to take back the time you missed. "Fuck-Y/N, fucking hell. Just like that.

You're so good."

The praise was everything, because you didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve him. Yet, here he was, giving you all of him, all of his time and body, the best parts.

One more deeper thrust and you gagged again, the reaction made you squeeze his thighs. Max shut his eyes tight, groaning and moaning a bit too loud, but he couldn't control himself, not when you were on his knees, taking him so well, doing your job like a freaking pornstar.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum." The liquid was everywhere inside your throat. He made sure he finished before removing his cock from inside your mouth, drops of drool spilling on the floor. "You better swallow every drop or we'll do it all over again."

You did as he asked, you wouldn't dare do it otherwise. You stood up, looking right into his eyes as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out.

"Good fucking slut."

In a sinful act, Max spat in your tongue, holding your hair tightly in a knot between his palm. The move was so dirty, so filthy, you could come just by relieving the scene alone.

With desperate hands, you started to remove your top and then proceeded to his shirt. Meanwhile, Max was practically ripping out your skirt, abruptly removing every piece of fabric that dared touch your skin.

His kiss was demanding, hard, rough, thrilling.

There was a primal instinct awaken inside you, one that wanted to be with him and serve him for the rest of your life. One that could live in beds with him until you grow old.

Max pushed you to the bed, body towering yours.

Your hands desperately tried to grab his neck, his back, bring him closer, if it was any possible. You felt his hand sliding slowly between your thighs, until he reached your folds. He made sure to spread the wetness around, making a mess on your inner thighs and hip bones.

"Max, please." You pleated, voice cracking, there was no way you could form coherent sentences, your mind was hazy, no other thought inside your head except Max Verstappen and his hands.

"Look at you." His voice was dark, husky. "So wet just from sucking me off. Do you want more?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Then ask for it, use your words."

That man had you in the palm of his hands. If he asked you to go to war for him, at that moment, in your situation, you would.

"Please, Max, please." Your vocals were stuck down your throat, you were struggling to speak, the sensations of his hands rubbing your clit ever so slightly you could barely say they were in there was just too overwhelming.

"Pathetic, try again." He placed a kiss on your collarbone, then on the curve of your neck. His lips were wet and hot, a little bit swollen from the roughness of your kisses.

"Max, fuck me, please, stuff me, use me, do Whatever you want."

Max stopped every touch. Looked deep inside your eyes with a smirk on his lips that you just wanted to slap it off, or kiss it off, whichever one your reflexes allowed.

He scrunched his nose and giggle, it was a way of mocking you, you knew that. You knew you sounded pathetic, you didn't care. The humiliation was not crossing your mind, nothing to worry about, it wasn't worth it. He was. Max was worth it.

"Stupid little thing, trying to pull stunts on me, then begging me to use you like you were some sort of cheap whore."

You moaned in response, lifting your hips to meet his. In a firm movement, Max held your hips down with his right leg, applying pressure on your lower belly, making it unable for you to move.

"Stop lifting your hips like a goddamn whore, you're going to take whatever I decide to give you."

He wasn't treating you kindly, you knew there was still resentment somewhere inside him. Sure, there was. Max knew it too. At that moment he was using you, taking his frustration out. But it wasn't like you haven't done the same, only your way of torturing him was a bit less fun than his.

You felt yourself sinking into Max's cock, involuntarily you sunk your nails on his back, trying to fight back the scorching sensation filling you up, making you whole. Max's rhythm was slow, painfully slow, which was unlike him, he never fucked you like this, always fast, slamming, pounding. This was even more overwhelming than his usual desperation and roughness, because it wasn't hurting but it felt like you simply couldn't take it, the lack of pace was driving you insane.

Max knew it, it was taking every single tear of strength left in his tired body to keep it slow, because you felt too good, too perfect wrapped around him. He missed your feeling, he missed your whimpers and cries.

"You feel so good, Schatje, like you were made only for my cock. Nothing more. Too useless to anything else, couldn't even figure out how to take a piece out of my car." He laughed, replaying the scene back in his memory. "Stupid little thing."

You cried out because you felt that he, without thinking, went a little bit harder when remembering what happened. If you wanted him to give you what you needed, you would have to push him only a little bit. You lost the war, you know you did, but there were still some battles left.

"Come on, Max. Slow on tracks, slow in bed. You used to be better than this. What are you trying to do? Fuck me to sleep?"

He looked down on you, with contempt. How dare you talk to him this way? But it was a good try, he was close to snapping, making you regret the whole week, going too hard until you couldn't remember why you were on this earth for.

You were scared of his eyes, how dark they were, but your stomach flipped with the thrill of waiting for his next move.

"Oh, she can talk!" His voice was drenched in disdain. "Let's fix this."

Not even stopping, Max parted your lips only to shove the lace fabric of your panties into your mouth. Fucking bastard. You protested, but now even you had to admit the sounds coming from you were a joke.

"Much better."

Then, in a sudden, fierce movement, he flipped you. Stomach down the mattress, face pressed against the egyptian sheets, a luxury that only Bahrain could provide. Max's left hand was pressing your head further down as he started to pick up the pace, slamming hard and faster. He was, in fact, using you as a personal fucktoy, but you didn't mind it, the feeling was too good.

You felt euphoric, your blood was buzzing. You tried to hold the sheets, grab something, but there was no way for you to control your body. The sounds coming from your mouth were involuntary, so were the one's coming from Max.

It was too much for him, he knew he wouldn't last longer. He never used you like this before, it made him feel like a god. No amount of championship wins would come close to the feeling of being buried deep down inside you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck- Look at what you made me do, fucking slut." You could feel the tears coming down. Good tears. The hot kind. "Are you going to cry on me now?"

You saw one of his hands coming to your mouth, removing the fabric and tossing far away to the other side of the room.

"Yes, Max, oh God, fuck."

He groaned, the wet noises were feeling the room.

The familiar sensation of fire pooling low in your abdomen started to show up. If he asked you to hold on, God forgive you, there was no way in hell.

You heard him moan a mixture of curse words and your name, but your senses were coming blurry, as if you were about to pass out.

"Max, 'm gonna cum."

"Gonna cum inside you, baby."

He pressed down, letting his weight fall on top of you, that's when you felt the tightness around your organs being released. The sounds coming from you were too much for Max to hold on any longer, not even seconds later he was breaking down. It was animalistic, filthy, pornographic, even.

He never took it out, he stayed inside of you for minutes after he was done. You were too sensitive to take any movement. That experience was whatever religious people were trying to reach with their existence. Who needed faith when you had Max Verstappen as a lover?

You barely noticed that his weight left the top of your naked body, only flipping back around when you saw him coming from the bathroom with a towel. He sat down next to you, breathing slowly, gently rubbing the fabric between your thighs.

"Are you okay?" You nodded, thinking you blacked out for a second. "Do you want a glass of water?"

"I just want you to lay down here."

He did as you asked, letting you wrap yourself around him. You could tell there were no bad feelings around, everything vanished into thin air.

It was just you and Max, same as ever.

"Do you forgive me, Max?"

He placed a long lasting kiss in your right temple.

"Is it bad if I said you should pull stuff like this more often just so that we could repeat this?"

You giggled, fingers tracing drawings on his stomach.

"I think we can figure another game that won't risk our relationship burning to ashes if something goes wrong."

"Fair enough." You felt him adjust his body. "And, yes, I do forgive you."

You needed the reassurance, Max knew that. He knew you. You were a melody from his favorite childhood song, one that he listened to it and it never left his mind.

There was no letting you go. It would always be complex and easy at the same time. But any complication was worth it if it meant you would never leave his side.

[mayajadewrites]

── .✦ Renaissance - Levi Ackerman .✦ ──

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ levi x fem reader

summary: levi leaves you in the underground for the scouts, only for him to find you again in marley when the war is over. however, nothing about you is the same as it once was. you are not the same person you were 12 years ago. cw: canon universe, smut, fluff, yearning ao3 authors note: there are several things in this story that are not canon to the original AOT storyline (like Levi needing a wheelchair) but I will warn you if/when those things come up.

chapter notes: bit of an angsty chapter! thank you all so much for your support and comments, it really makes me happy that you want me to continue this story. if you would like to be added to the tag list, just ask! <3

tag list: @ackerboi, @staarflowerr, @midw1nter, @glads-stuff, @nxcxllxsevens 

preface - chapter one - chapter two

CHAPTER THREE

Every part of your body wanted him. Wanted to engulf yourself in him, never letting him go again. His hands on your body felt like they belonged there, his kisses frantic as his hands run up and down your curves.

Your heart belongs to him - even 12 years later.

But your brain is screaming at you to push him away.

In today's battle, your brain won.

You push your hands on his chest a bit rougher than the last time, turning to take the cash he handed you out of your bag and giving it back to him. "I can't, Levi."

He gave you a emotionless expression, like the last few minutes didn't even happen. "You're going to refuse money like that? Good money?"

"It's not about the money, Levi!" You press your hands to your eyes, tears threatening to spill down your face. "You left me alone for 12 years! I had no one, I had to take care of myself the minute you left. But I guess it's my fault for relying so much on you."

The tension was thick in the room, silence louder than any voice could be.

You sit down on the bed, your gaze moving to the floor as a sign leaves your lips.

For the first time in years, Levi says your name with such softness that you almost don't believe it's him.

"Look at me." He moves to stand in front of you, his eyes roaming your face as if to look for some sign of softness.

When you bring your eyes to his, it takes everything in you not to completely give into him. But you have a sliver of strength left.

"Why would you even want me now? I'm... stained. Ruined."

"What makes you think that?" He moves to sit next to you on the bed, his thigh grazing against yours ever so slightly. "There's not one stain on you."

You bring your eyes to his, and it was like you were transported back in time to when you were teenagers, just trying to survive on the streets of the Underground.

"I sell my damn body for money, Levi. I'm filthy."

"Hey." He brought his left hand to your face, his index finger pressing to the underside of your chin. "That doesn't mean you're stained or dirty."

"I never wanted this." You look away from him, refusing to keep eye contact. "I had no other options."

You resented him so, so much. If he came back and told you to stop this, you would have. Without hesitation.

But this was the only thing you felt like you had control over in your life. Doing this allowed you to have a bed to sleep in and 3 meals a day.

There were nights when men would physically hurt you, and they felt that they could because they paid for it. Many mornings you woke up with a black eye, purple bruises sore on your skin with marks from the fingers of your clients. No one respects the people of the Underground, they're a subspecies to the people above.

"Please leave, Levi. You can get your services from someone else." You turn your head quickly, his hand falling from your face. "And don't come back."

You refused to look at him. You couldn't. Because the minute you did, all of the words you just said would mean nothing. You bite down on your bottom lip, the slight pain distracting you from Levi's gaze burning a hole in your skull.

He put the wad of cash back on your lap before standing up, buttoning his shirt and putting his jacket back on. But you held your ground, looking the other way - out of the window that had a perfect view of the full moon.

You could have sworn it looked exactly the way you did the night Levi left.

Tonight, he left again.

Weeks passed. Days of avoiding the street that Levi's tea shop is on.

But this morning, you woke up earlier than usual and decided to walk around the streets, enjoying the silence.

You see balloons at the front door of his shop, a sign saying "OPEN" that's almost to your hip as you walk by.

It looks different from the last time you were here. Granted, it wasn't technically open yet, but within weeks Levi really put this place together.

Through the windows, which were so clean you almost couldn't decipher if they were actually there or not, you saw gray painted walls, with plants comfortably decorating the space. Some small tables occupy the space, and then you see him. His back is to the window, the muscles of his shoulders flexing as he wipes down the tables.

Your breath hitches as you watch him, knowing he has a crease between his brows as he cleans the surfaces. He always was so meticulous when it came to cleaning that he would spend hours making sure any space he was occupying was spotless.

He's always wanted this. Always.

Levi used to tell you about how he wants to open a tea shop one day, and that he used to talk to his mom about it before she passed away.

"We used to always have tea together in the morning." He would say with a soft smile on his face. "I was the only kid in the brothel, so the other women would pinch my cheeks and tell me how handsome I am. Our tea time in the morning was what I woke up for."

"I'm sure she's so proud of you Levi. Even now." Your voice was quieter than usual as you look in his eyes, gently pressing your hand to his knee as you both sit against a brick wall, the night sky enveloping you both.

When he looked at you, he saw his entire world in front of him.

And that was the first time he kissed you.

You look above the door of the shop, noticing the small sign with the name of the shop.

Kuchel's.

A single tear rolled down your cheek before Levi opened the door to his shop. When his eyes found yours, you notice his gaze was softer than it had been the last time you were there.

You and Levi often communicated without words, only your eyes.

His eyes were begging you to come in.

[mllemaenad]

I have run this conversation over in my mind a dozen times, and I frankly do not understand how this could be true. Anything valuable is also highly likely to be "cultural": because it is beautiful and considered art, because it is rare, because it is made with valuable materials, because it is of historical significance; perhaps even because it is unknown – finding evidence of a lost expedition or settlement attempt that you thought left nothing behind would be valuable, even if you didn't know you wanted it before you found it. Even ancient graffiti can be valuable to a scholar.

There are probably items that are common enough that it's not a huge deal – an excess of very common household pottery, maybe – but that also wouldn't really count as treasure, now would it.

And okay: the Qunari can pay to get their stuff back, and the Lords have a policy not to overcharge. I'm not sure that's exactly ethical, but they're pirates! I'm not expecting them to be ethical. Isabela not wanting to piss of the Qunari more than necessary makes sense.

But ... I mean ... the old elvish ruins are ... old and forgotten because their civilisations fell, to Tevinter, and later to Orlais. It is genuinely going to be difficult to trace ownership of something very old to a specific Dalish clan, say, but I don't think that makes selling off their stuff better. Especially since we know the clans haul around a small number of cherished artefacts that they were able to save, so I think we can say with reasonable confidence a) they want all of it and b) they don't have the sort of resources to pay for it that the Qunari do.

I'm not sure how to read this, yet. Maybe this is something we explore with Taash later. But as a starting point ... I'd like to argue a bit more about what this means.

[yanoverload]

Yandere Cow Boy

Beau is my first Yandere Oc ever done. He's a few years old now, and he means a lot to me.

I apologize if the writing seems rushed. I am not a great writer, and English is hard. (Also can you tell the Pearl inspiration? Teehee)

"There are bonds stronger than those made by blood.... Or so granny has told me haha! Do you agree :) ?"

At first glance, you may think Beau is a sweet man that works in the bakery across the street, the one with the grandma that always seems grumpy? 

Well... 😬 

In his universe, a lot of animals have started to turn scarce with human greed. The solution? To make a mix of human and animal of course! So when they proliferate amongst themselves or with normal humans we don't have to worry about the shortage of materials :)

Except a lot of them aren't treated... That humanely.

Beau is a crossbreed experimentation to see if they could have a cow and a bull at the same time. He never met his parents. As soon as he was born he was taken along with his older sister (a failed version of the experiment) to a farm.

Farms that take hybrids receive help from the government, but the authorities don't care much about welfare, just make sure they don't die.

And that was the case. Since young, they milked Beau dry for his unique birth. Milk, breeding, meat? Of course! He is one of a kind after all! He can restore "most" of his organs!

His only shelter was his older sister. Motherly, caring, worried for him. He never understood what was happening at first, but she explained everything to him!

He felt awful about the situation. He didn't care much about himself at first, but he wanted to give his sister a better life as he grew. He made a plan with a new worker at the farm that felt bad for them: he would take both in the delivery cart at night and they would escape.

Or so he thought. The night he was ready to leave with his sister, he went to get her and she wasn't anywhere. Terrified the owners did something, he ran to where he was going to meet the worker to see.... Nothing, no cart, no one.

Well... Except a shotgun at his back.

The owners found out about the situation. But they weren't angry, oh no! His sister and the worker could leave, hell they could take some money too! If they left Beau. His sister was a bother, too much work for not a lot of stuff to sell and the worker talked too much. So they left.

They left.

They left me.

He was in such a state of shock, he says he didn't remember a thing....

The sun was rising, before he even noticed the mangled bodies of the farm owners. They were two old fuckers anyway. 

Oh! He found his sister and the worker not too far from there. The cart was on the side of the road, silent.

Traitors don't talk, after all. And they don't move anymore either.

He leaves on foot, since he doesn't know how to drive, and settles down in front of a closed establishment.

As soon as he wakes up, he sees a grumpy but worried granny, thinking the blood was his own. Her vision hasn't been the same, and we all know how hybrids are treated around these parts.

He can stay for now.... She is a bit lonely, and could use a hand in the bakery.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Some more facts about him! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Beau was treated like cattle, so he doesn't understand human structures and psyche that well. 

He wants to form a new family, have a new beginning.

One of his first meals at Granny was Neapolitan ice cream. He liked it so much he dyed his hair pink, now he is a Neapolitan cow :D

He works in the back, and takes the shippings.

Always raised by women, he likes more feminine things, but still prefers He/Him pronouns.

He has broken two beds because of how massive he is.

He never calls anyone by name, only "friend". Well... Except Grandma and Darling.

Height: 204 cm (6'8 feet)

[simpjaes]

Hey I saw your Jay x Sunghoon fic and I was thinking if you could write Sunghoon and Jake fic where Jake thinks Sunghoon has a big dick but finds out he does not and Jake fucks him and like degrades him🙏

warning: jake bottoms actually, sunghoon stuffs his pants lmfao

note: don't wanna read mxm? then dont. it's that easy!!!

~ Sunghoon wishes he could live up to the ego Jake has given him over the last few months.

He really, really, wishes he could.

A night-time shame session is what he's usually left with after hanging out with his dear Jake. Always so alone when he's pulling the sock out of his pants with an embarrassed expression despite no one around to catch him in his lie.

Arguably, he should have a big dick, shouldn't he? With shoulders so broad, legs so long...he should at least be a little more than average right? A shower and a grower?

Sunghoon stands ashamed in front of his bathroom mirror after a shower, narrowing his eyes at his groin. He's not a shower, and barely a grower.

Five inches is average, that's what google says. Five inches is enough to get girls off, reddit says. Five inches is the best selling size of dildos. Five inches.

Probably five inches less than what Jake would want. God, why did he feed into the little comments? Why did he start stuffing his pants? Why does he still get off the to the fact that Jake seems to want him soooo badly based on the size of his cock?! And that leads to now, with Jake's tongue all over Sunghoon's neck and his hands reaching dangerously close to the most embarrassing, heart shattering lie known to man. Sunghoon tries to pull his hips back and away, but god it feels so good to finally have someone on him again. His hips fight the need to keep his secret, pressing up, almost chasing Jake's hand until... Jake squeezes, his tongue pulling back in his mouth as he lifts his head to meet Sunghoon's gaze. He squeezes again, now raising a brow. "Is that a fucking sock?" Jake snorts in shock, blatantly grabbing the non-cock in Sunghoon's pants. "There's no fucking way." Sunghoon looks away from him, flushed cheeks going darker as he holds his breath. How can he even explain himself? He knew allowing Jake to suddenly leap forward and kiss him was a bad idea, and he knew lying him down on the bed was an even worse idea. But he just, he likes Jake so much. The inevitable is coming. Sunghoon can feel it in the way Jake's hands fumble at the hem of his pants, shoving them down and revealing, yes, a fucking sock. Ah, he winces in embarrassment, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the mocking, the shaming, the- "Hoonie," Jake says sternly, gripping the very average, less than amazing sized cock. "Why the fuck are you stuffing your pants?" "You said I looked like I'd have a big dick..." He says it pathetically with a croak in his voice, keeping his eyes closed despite that nice grip he feels around the head of his length. "I didn't want to disappoint." Jake sighs, knowing Sunghoon can't see the smile on his face. "Honestly? You can't be that small." Jake tries to make excuses for him. "I'll still choke on i-" Jake cuts himself off at the realization that Sunghoon is very, very average. There it is. Sunghoon fumbled him. It's over. He can't even respond at this point as the embarrassment threatens to come up in the form of sickness. He stomach hurts. His cock is going soft and sore, and the fucking sock is just lying there beside them laughing about it. "I-" Sunghoon starts. "I understand." "Like, I really expected more than this" Jake pokes and prods, trying to keep him hard, letting his tongue fall out and lick up and against Sunghoon's neck again. "What? Is it like, three inches or something?" There's confusion in Sunghoon's gut now. What the fuck is happening right now. "It's five." Sunghoon mumbles with a pout. "We'll make it work." Jake giggles against him. "What, you expect to shove a sock in me?" Sunghoon isn't exactly pleased with this awkward instance but the fact that Jake somehow still wants him means something. "Wait-" Sunghoon opens his eyes, grabbing Jake's hair at the back of his scalp and forcing him to look at him. It's more gentle than rough, but Jake loves it. "We'll make it work?" Jake sighs into his grasp, eyes slightly rolling back at Sunghoon's hold. "If you keep grabbing me like this, yeah." Fair enough. Sunghoon thinks now is a better time than ever to prove that despite him not being a nine incher, at least he knows how to use the five inches he's got. "Yeah?" Sunghoon says, confidence now rising. "Suck it then." Perfect. Jake thinks he's perfect actually. After all, it's not like he wasn't all talk too. If anything, he's never taken anything too big and he swore up and down he could deep throat. At least now, he actually can. And he does. He even gags a little bit, which only drives Sunghoon further. He's not huge, but he's clearly big enough.

[pixiesholloworld]

✭୨୧˚LIKE SHAY SHAY!˚୨୧✭

synopsis⟿ after a heated argument with your boyfriend sukuna, he tries to smooth things out by treating you to something special…

not proofread and kinda shitty

sukuna was really passionate about being with you.. like over the top passionate he fell for you almost instantly when he saw you for the first time at the grocery store, his eyes tracing your curves taking note on how they hugged up on your tube top and tiny little shorts. He tried to play it cool, not saying too much of anything, you thought he was kind of corny because of it but it was cute. so of course when you gave this mysterious beefcake a chance he wouldn't spare a single second not doting after you.

you heard the way he talked to others- how he spoke to them like they were below him, you knew how he pushed his way to the top of his job, selling drugs, guns, and many many other "services". he knew how to get his way with others whether it was by force or reason, more importantly how he wasn't ever up for being the bigger person— all that matters to him is being able to prove a point. sukuna wasn't one for high roads when it came to other people.. but you?

oh you had him whipped, its honestly a shock to anyone how a crybaby like you ended up with such a brute man. though anytime he did happen to upset you he immediately apologizes in his own aggressive yet gentle way, willing to go above and beyond just to get in your good graces again. its so out of character for him to care about a person this much, so much so that his friends are convinced you did some type of voodoo on him, forcing him to act right or else. so when you left to work in the midst of a heated argument you weren't surprised to see that he had — yet again — sent a bouquet of your favorite flowers with a note:

"take off and i’ll make it up to you doll

i pinky promise"

you scoff at his appealing message, moving the flowers to the backroom of your job. who does he think he is? sending you flowers when you're clearly upset with him, does ignoring his first 50 calls mean nothing? with his perfect handwriting and perfect attention to detail. i guess dating a jailbird had its perks..

"trouble in paradise again?" your coworker snickers.

you roll your eyes and stuff the note in your pocket, you had another 7 hours here and you weren't going to let sukuna seduce you out of a well earned paycheck.. even IF he would've paid you double the amount to go home to him. but if sukuna had to admit it that same level of pettiness is exactly why he's with a woman like you

—

later that night you drove home, exhausted, hungry and still angry, you turn the keys to your apartment to see sukuna pulling pizza out the oven, its almost as if he read your mind. you drag yourself over to your shared room plopping on the bed, trying to relax and push your angry thoughts down but it all washes away when a familiar warmth creeps upon your back "hey sweet lady" his husky voice cutting though the tension and shooting right through your heart. you hated being mad at him but you couldn't help it how could he forget about the ONE thing that upsets you the most?! you pull away from his touch curling up into a ball

"awh don't be like that doll"

"you yelled at me.." you mumble through a choked up throat. he curls up against you, his thumb circling your temple. You loved how warm he felt on your back and it was nice that he remembers your love language even if you are being a bit unreasonable. anytime sukuna raises his voice just a smidge you get all teary eyed "so that's what this is all about?" he hums, pulling you closer to him by your waist, "i'm sorry sweetie-"

you cut him off, just wanting to say what you didn't have the words to say earlier, "i just don't understand why you have to work so late," you pull his large hand off of your head and hold it in front of your face, tracing along the lines and calloses that scar his skin, "i just miss you s'all" he heard you loud and clear, "hey," he gently called, grabbing your face and turning it towards him so you can look him in the eyes while he says this, "i don't really like workin' that late either but money doesn't make itself". He pushes the strands of braids out our face so he can get a good look at you, grabbing your chin and rubbing his thumb against it, "i miss you when i'm gone too baby but we can make the most of our time right now"

you let out a relaxed sigh feeling a sense of relief now that you both know what you were trying to say, you look him in his crimson eyes and crack a soft smile. "so.. are we friends again?" he playfully asks, you shake your head yes and pull him in for a kiss. he returns the favor 10 fold of course. locking you in his arms as he peppers kisses in the crook of your neck and on your face until suddenly your eyes lock and for what feels like an eternity, the world stops. without a second thought the two of you started taking your clothes off exchanging kisses in between rushed breaths.

this wasn’t a normal thing for you two, you were never one to initiate makeup sex you’d rather cuddle and watch a movie. though sukuna admittedly has been dreaming of this moment, where he finally gets to show you how sorry he really is. he doesn’t spare a moment yanking your work clothes off of you, crashing his lips into yours he steals the taste he craved right out of your mouth. your lust filled whimpers were oh so sweet to him, you were practically begging him for more and he was gonna give you every. single. inch.

he pulls his mouth from yours watching how your your pleading eyes gloss over, you move a hand up to the nape of his neck before pulling his ear close to your mouth

"let me ride it"

though you were known as a crybaby to everyone sukuna knew the dirty girl that hid deep inside you, it was a side of you that only he could access and he loved every bit of that. due to this fact a wide smile creeps up on his face when you double down, "you heard me?"

"you didn't have to say nuthin' but a word princess"

he rolls over on his back pulling you right over him, your leaking entrance hanging right over his angry, pink tip begging to let it explore your insides. your eyes trail from sukuna's happy trail all the way up to his hungry eyes, he's not one to rush but you can tell he's growing impatient as his thumbs massage the sides of your plush hips

"enjoying the view?"

you suck your teeth and steady his head over your slit slowwwly pushing down until every inch of him fits snugly into your wet crevasse, you wince at the sudden stretching it's not something you're sure you'll ever get use to. you start slowly at first dragging yourself ever so slowly trying to get him all worked up, you can tell its working because of how intense his stare is.

his hands worked over to your tits squeezing and cupping them ever so gingerly,, he was trying to be patient,, his breath hitches a bit as you press your small hands on his chest. "been thinking of that pussy all day" he admits, one of his hands move under your ass squeezing the fat and lightly spanking it demanding a yelp out of you, "you get my gift?"

"mmhm~" you answer, picking up your pace just a bit more, he smiles at this and sneakily moves his other hand under your ass, spanking it again just so he can hear you yelp

"you like it?" he asks, eyes switching between watching your pussy swallow him whole and your cute little face. if your blush could be seen you're sure you'd look as red as a tomato by now, seeing him look at you so intently like this made you feel so dizzy. you move your head down to his ear once more

"i loved it"

unbeknownst to you this would be the final straw to push sukuna over the edge, he loves to be praised and he was gonna show you exactly what your words do to him. using the hands underneath your ass he tilts you towards his chest and immediately starts drilling into you, you can feel yourself clutching around his girth, deep groans escape his mouth as he fucks tiny whimpers and slutty squelches out of yours

you can feel sukuna's body temperature raise almost the instant your breasts are pressed against him, he thrusts faster, the sound of your bodies along with your desperate cries filled his ears, pap, pap, pap! he grew harder at the the thought that you could be heard in the surrounding rooms of your apartment though his main motivation was how loud he could make you scream his name. oh how he loved to make you scream, he’d feel you clawing at him as your broken up mewls fueled his boner it was almost like a reward and he knew exactly how to get more of what he was chasing after

he quickly pops his dick out and flips you on your back, "there's my pretty girl," he coos, "need to see that cock drunk face before i finish" he slams his lips into yours once more slipping his dick inside in the process. he places a hand on your stomach feeling how your soft pretty skin heats up to his touch he places another behind your head and starts up again. deep, drawn out thrusts just how his lady likes it, he felt how your gummy walls squeezed at the sudden change in tempo, making his stomach tense up and drill into you even deeper

"fuuckk, keep goin' woman," he buries his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts becoming quicker and sloppier the more you called out his name, he looked down to see the concupiscent amounts of cream on his cock— so lewd, the sight of it made a muted whimper escape his lips. he was gonna blow soon and you could tell, "you feel so good mama" he breathes out, his voice so low yet wispy, it sent electric bolts straight to your clit. he doesn’t let up though, thrusting deeper as if he was trying to break through your cervix "'k-kuna~, 'kuna~" you manage to gasp out, you lock him in your gasp with your legs, "don't stop- god please don't stop!~" you felt breathless yet hot, your soft hands felt around his hardened body looking for something, anything to keep you grounded

"m'here baby, shit- m'gonna cum" he groans, lifting himself up to stare in your eyes before you both come to your inevitable finish. a hand reaches up to his face and another on his heartbeat, you felt how hard it was thumping, how hard his body was working in this moment. you could feel him working himself through your pussy until he hits that one spot, causing your mouth to drop right open. you start tearing up you and let out a loud scream, squirt uncontrollably splashes all over his pelvis making him give a loud, guttural groan

“i-i love you ‘kuna— fuuckk!~ iloveyou!” these were the last intelligible words spoken by you before the rest turned into a slurry mess, you babbled on and on repeating iterations of ‘i love you’. normally sukuna would stop and tease you for it but he was already about to blow

the best he can do is he let you ride out your orgasm, he moved his thumb down to your clit and started rubbing sensual circles over it, "give it all t'me" he commands still rolling his hips into your tight, swollen cunt. he watches as your facial expressions change. he loved how you’d squeeze your eyes so tightly and leave your mouth open nice and wide, "that's it,” he purrs “what a sweet girl", he bends down to kiss your forehead feeling how your body shakes beneath him, “you love me?”

“yes! yes!~”

“you’re not just sayin that ‘cause i fuck you good?”

“i love you ‘kuna” you breathe out between sobs, he wipes the tears from your eyes and shushes you, planting kisses on your face which to his surprise makes your pussy sieze up squirt a little again.

as he tries to drag himself out he finds that he can’t, he places his hands on the side of your head, feeling his legs begin to shake, he lets out a low, desperate grunt throwing his head back while thrusting until he fills you up to the brim with hot, thick spurts of cum. he watches how it combines with your juices, letting the feeling totally control him until finally his muscles relax and his body gives out

“i love you too woman” he breathes out

your legs fully give out at this point, tired from the sudden boost of serotonin, taking note of this he pulls out and lays next to you holding your hand and kissing on it

you both lie there speechless for a moment before he breaks the silence

“you like cold pizza?”

[ijwtbap]

ㅤㅤ★ㅤA date — Bakugō.

— Bakugō x GN!reader

You go on a date with an explosive man. Why? No one knows. You're y/n, so just enjoy it and don't ask questions.

a/n. I just didn't want to study, so I did this.

You were going on a date with Bakugō.

 

Your brain couldn’t wrap itself around how this had even happened. One minute, you were lying on the couch in the common room, scrolling through TikTok while trying not to let the algorithm convince you to buy another useless gadget. Next, Katsuki spawned out of nowhere and stared right through your soul.

 

He didn’t ask if you were busy this weekend—oh no, that would have been polite. Instead, he hit you with a tone that could cut the air, as if you’d personally insulted his ancestors.

 

Still, you managed to mumble something in response, though you had no idea what you even said. Why was this happening? You weren’t friends—not even acquaintances, really. Hell, you weren’t even in the same social group. The only words you’d ever exchanged before this were basic pleasantries, only from your part, of course. Yet here he was, staring at you with the intensity of someone trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube in under a minute.

 

“Meet me at the train station at 8,” he said. Just like that. Not very romantic in your opinion. And then he left, as if he hadn’t just dropped the most unhinged plan on your lap.

 

Eight. In the morning. On a weekend. What kind of psychopath plans a date at 8 a.m.?

 

You were sure this man was about to kill you. You were driving yourself insane on that couch, overanalyzing every interaction before that day. Your thoughts are cut off by the sudden, almost unnoticeable blush on his ears.

 

You were 100% sure you were on drugs, and you didn't even know what they smelled like.

 

Now, here you were, resting your back against the brick wall in the middle of a street. You had picked your best clothing, the ones that were rotting on the back of your closet, that you swore you would wear one day, the right day.

 

And today was that day.

 

You keep looking around and checking the time, worried that this was some type of elaborate prank. You already knew some of the past behaviours of Bakugō. Thanks to Izuku, who could never shut up about the guy.

 

You picked up your phone, and before checking for the 70th time that you didn't come to the wrong place, a hand touched your shoulder. If it weren't for all the training and constant fights with villains, you would've gotten scared.

 

You turn around to see the angry expression of Bakugō, but at this point you knew it was only his resting bitch face. You put the phone away and faced him, expecting something to come out of his mouth.

 

"Hi?" You said, unsure of how to start a conversation with a guy as gentle as a cactus.

 

Mr. Explosions didn't seem to want to speak, so you did it for him. As he gave you a nod and started walking, expecting you to follow him. You fixed your hair quickly and checked him out.

 

Weirdly, you both were equally dressed up. He had good fashion sense: everyone knew that. But you felt like he looked a little better: he was wearing cologne, his hair was less messy, and the shoes were brand new.

 

He had tried, and so did you. It was an actual date; you couldn't believe it.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

Katsuki didn't answer you. He only handed you a ticket. Your eyes widened as you read it. It was a concert of your favourite band/artist; it was so difficult to get the tickets to it, but he had them.

 

You would've married his ass at that exact moment. He knew how to cook, had money, and bought you tickets to the best concert of your life. He was your husband already. You could skip the dating step altogether.

 

As you two entered the stadium, you felt your entire body bursting into excitement. Some were selling stuff, and others were jumping around to see every inch of the place. The air of happiness of everyone was so contagious.

 

The entire concert you didn't stop singing. It didn't matter anymore if Bakugō was there or not; this was a one-life chance. At one moment you even took his hand to force him to participate on the wave.

 

Afterwards, you were over the moon. You had bought some stuff to remember this day, Katsuki paying for most of it; he hadn’t let you refuse.

 

You were so happy that you hadn’t noticed how you two were still holding hands or how your leg was on top of his and his hand rested on your thigh. You were comfortable, and that was all you needed to know.

 

"Did you see [artist]? They..." You continue babbling non-stop.

 

Exhausted, both of you had sat on a bench in a park close by. The 'rest for a couple of minutes' had become hours and the morning, afternoon. One of your hands was trapped with his as the free one surrounded his shoulders.

 

You kept talking until you caught his eyes looking at you almost endearingly. It was a strange smile: sweet, soft, with his cheeks a tone more dark than normal. Katsuki was enjoying this, and you were too...

 

"What?"

 

The sudden realization makes you quiet, and he notices immediately. How could he not? You had been boring his ear off the last three hours.

 

You didn't like Katsuki. Not when you first met him and he woke you up with the sound of an explosion, nor when he fought with Midoriya like a maniac. Or that time when he kicked your ass during the festival.

 

You didn't like him at all.

 

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to this date. Maybe it was because, out of everyone in class, he was the only one who noticed you were sick and told Aizawa. Or because he always made food exactly how you liked it, no matter how ridiculously picky you were sometimes. Or maybe it was this date, where he’d invited you to see a band/artist you loved, even though you knew he gave a shit about them.

 

Or perhaps it was the way he’d changed, quietly and without being asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Not for recognition, not for anyone else—just because.

 

You didn’t know why any of it mattered so much. You didn't know what it mattered to you.

 

“Next time, let’s go camping.”

 

Next time. The words slipped out before you could stop them. They weren’t a promise, not really. Just a polite response, something to fill the silence. Yet even as you said it, the words felt too easy, too natural, like part of you had already decided.

 

"Alright,” Katsuki said, his tone calm and sure, as though he’d been expecting you to suggest it.

1,137 Words.

ㅤ

[hiddenonyx]

Borrowing Their Clothes | Obey Me! Brothers

A/N: I have some writing done of this for the side cast, but it's not finished and I wanted to put something out. This is several months old and I think edited, but no promises lol written in second person, no mention of gender.

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Lucifer honestly, didn't even notice that you had swiped something from his closet until he saw you in it. It was late at night and Lucifer, still ever working, decided to stop by the kitchen for another cup of coffee. When he saw the light already on, he had assumed it was Beel getting a head start on his midnight snacking. He was surprised to see you, getting yourself a glass of water when he turned the corner. He was even more surprised (and a bit flustered) to see that your choice of sleepwear is a too-big black dress shirt and matching underwear- wait a minute. 

You can see the gears turning in his head as he slowly (either from the late hour or being flustered or both) figures out that it's one of his dress shirts you're wearing. You have to bite the inside of your check to resist snickering as he simply stands there, looking dumbfounded. Does he chide you for taking something of his? Does he fuck you? Does he say anything at all?

Mammon is the type of person who never remembers what stuff he has or where it is until he suddenly remembers and wants to wear it. Thus he's angrily digging through his closet for this one grey long-sleeved shirt. He could've sworn that he still had it and that it was here, with all the other shirts he had barely worn. Did Asmo comb through his closet again and take stuff? After almost ten minutes of angry searching, Mammon decides to hell with it - he'll just sulk all day, it's fine. He makes his way to the music room - maybe watching some TV will make him feel better. That's when he notices you, already watching TV, wearing that same exact grey long-sleeve shirt with black leggings.

"Oi!" he snaps at you, drawing your attention to him, "That's my shirt. Where'd ya get it?!"

You tilt your head at him slightly, "Your closet?"

"And what makes you think you can just root around in the Great Mammon's closet without permission, huh?"

You shrug, "You weren't wearing it."

"So?!" He gives his dumbfounded look as if he can't believe your logic.

"Well if you want it back that bad, you can come take it off me."

Levi keeps careful track of all his anime and fandom hoodies (they are one of his top three favorite merch items after all). So one could imagine his panic at the realization that he's missing one. At first, Levi hopes that he just forgot to hang it in its proper spot. But after going through every single one, the anger of the realization that it’s actually gone sets in. Did Mammon take it and sell it? He better not have or not even Lucifer will be able to help him! He storms out of his room, his demon form standing out from the other seeming humans in the house.

"MMAAMMOONN!"

"He already left for the casino," the voice that makes him pause is yours. You look up from the sitting room couch setting your book and mug down, "What happened this time?"

"That bastard took one of my hoodies and probably sold it —" he stops mid-sentence as you stand up, wearing the very same hoodie he's been looking for, "Where did you get that?"

"Huh?" You look down at yourself, "Oh this ended up in my laundry basket. It's cute so I figured I'd wear it, but I don't know who’s...it's yours, isn't it?"

A blush starts to creep onto his face as he nods and bites at the back of his hand to stop from squealing: you look so cute in it.

Satan is used to having his clothes "borrowed" by Asmo. He's used to walking into his room and seeing Asmo going through his closet to find something to finish his outfit or to peruse the fourth born’s shocking amount of sweaters. What Satan is not used to is walking into his room and seeing you trying on a thick, oversized, woolen sweater. He stands at the entrance of his room, watching as you hum thoughtfully to yourself as you twist back and forth in his full length mirror. He holds his breath, you haven't noticed him, nor did you hear him come in, and he doesn't want to startle you. He watches on in silence, a soft smile warming his face as he takes in just how cute you look. Maybe he'll let you keep it.

Asmo has no problem sharing clothes. Any kind, any style, he has at least five options for you. Mini skirts? Check? Ripped denim jeans? What wash would you like, darling? Honestly, it feels like half your closet is his closet - he doesn't have any problem just giving you his clothes. Asmo often buys clothing that he knows that both of you would like just so you two can share. You also find yourself sharing or even wearing clothes from Satan and Solomon, and even Mammon sometimes (huh who knew Mammon owned long-sleeved shirts?)

Beel will absolutely hand you his jacket because you mention that you're a little chilly and then completely forget that he did. He frowns a little as he looks around his room, confused as to where it's gone. Belphie didn't borrow it and isn't using it as a blanket...so did Asmo take it? But why would he? Asmo said that his jacket "wasn't quite his style" so where did it end up? Perhaps he left out in one of the common spaces? Beel hunts through each room before finding you in the planetarium, sitting on the floor, looking up, and wearing his coat. He snickers quietly - it's far too big for you; it swallows you up so that only your head pokes out. He rests against the doorframe, watching you watch the stars. He'll let you wear it for a moment longer.

Belphie is a little miffed when his daily sweater goes missing. It's not the first time something like this has happened - laundry occasionally gets swapped around in the house, but he could've sworn that he had gotten his sweater back this past laundry day. Maybe he left it in the attic? One tiring climb up the stairs and search around the attic later, Belphies sighs and pulls out his phone.

[House of Lamentation]

"Hey has anyone seen my sweater? I can't find it anywhere." -Belphie

"Did you check the laundry room?" - Lucifer

"Yeah, it's not there. Checked the attic too." -Belphie

"Actually you left it in my room the other day." -MC

"Oh. I'll come get it." [Thanks sticker] -Belphie

It's only a few minutes before Belphie knocks on your door. He blushes once you open your door, surprised to find you swearing his sweater.

"Thought I'd keep it warm for you," you tease.

----------------

The Master List

Sort By Character

[allthesethingswillendsoon]

Long, long time

CHAPTER ONE: Welcome to Oakridge

SUMMARY: Following the abrupt departure of Amy Bueckers, Bob moves himself and Paige to the quiet, unassuming town of Oakridge, Virginia in the hopes of having a fresh start. There, they meet the Fudd family, their neighbors from across the street. Paige and Azzi are quick to hit it off and so begins their story.

NOTE: This is so nerve-wracking as this is the first like fanfiction thing I've ever written let alone published. I don't think this chapter is very good but that doesn't really matter because it's the first one and I just wanted to get it done with. For reference they are both born in 2001 just to make it easier with grades and stuff, also this story doesn't involve them playing basketball (so no UConn or anything like that) as I felt I didn't know enough for it to actually make any sense. The series doesn't have a name, and I don't know how long that will be the case for. Also I really don't understand how to use tumblr so it might take a while for me to make the posts aesthetic and whatever so yeah. I plan for this series to span like years and years of their lives with ups and downs.

---------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Parent leaving. 2k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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28th OF AUGUST 2008

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

The crisp morning air of Oakridge came as a pleasant surprise to Bob and Paige Bueckers. It was six AM, and after hours and hours the father-daughter duo had finally found their way to Virginia. Their worldly possessions were being held in the U-Haul rental truck they had driven there with. Amongst those possessions were a variety of important things, Paige’s kindergarten graduation cap, the remnants of her first haircut, and her mother’s last note to them before leaving.

To say Bob was happy for a fresh start would be a complete understatement, Minnesota had just been too much for him. Around every corner was a reminder of what they had lost, and what they could never ever get back. The stress had nearly cracked him, and on one particularly low-spirited evening, once Paige was tucked soundly in her bed, Bob had started the process of selling their house and buying a new one. The day after Paige’s kindergarten graduation, the final boxes were packed and the duo set off across the country to their new home, to their new start.

There it was, the start of the rest of their lives right there in front of them. 

He had been able to find their house for a lovely, reasonable price. It was the perfect size, three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a spacious backyard; perfect for the dog Bob had promised Paige. The outside of the house was painted a soft blue, complemented by the white picket fence and flower beds bordering the perimeter of their block.

“Dad! Can we go inside?! I wanna look around! Please!” Paige begged, tugging her dad towards the front door. 

“Yeah, sure thing honey, give me a second.” He responded, glad to have been snapped out of his reminiscing.

Paige ran up the front porch steps, her dad in tow behind her. As Bob stood at the door fumbling around with the keys he had a moment to realise the severity of the situation. They were in a brand new state, in a tiny town, away from everything either of them had ever known without any kind of support system whatsoever. 

He couldn’t say he wasn’t ashamed, and angry, and depressed, the love of his life and mother of his child had just packed up and left, for no apparent reason and without even saying a proper goodbye to their daughter. That’s what really got him, Paige loved her parents more than anything, and explaining to Paige that mommy’s just not here anymore led to more tears than he’d like to admit. The fact that she would one day think it was her fault that Amy left, that it was because Amy didn’t love her enough killed Bob, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do when that day came.

Perfect. Just perfect. 

What was he going to do? What if something went wrong? What if Paige needed a babysitter? 

They had left their family behind in Edina, Minnesota, and not a second had passed since leaving them that they were not missed. But it was necessary, in every conversation he had with his family and Amy’s family, there was always a massive, gaping, all-consuming hole in the conversation. Without fail, every time, Bob fell in.

But that was what made Virginia so perfect though, it was away from everything and everyone they used to know. And as far as Paige had shown, she didn’t mind the change much, her happy-go-lucky nature was sure to make her friends no matter the area.

With a click the door swung open. 

As they walk inside, the smile that falls over Paige’s face makes all the pain and struggle worth it.

“I love it Dad! I love it!” She squeals, her face scrunched in happiness as she skipped around the bottom floor of the house, trailing her grubby little hands over every surface she could reach.

“I’m so glad honey.” He grins, her excitement contagious.

“I love it! I love it! I love it! I looooove it!” 

“You wanna go upstairs and see your room?” Bob questions.

“Yes, yes, yes!” With that she’s off, her little legs struggling as she takes the stairs two steps at a time. Bob follows suit, walking into Paige’s room to find her lying on the floor starfished.

“Do you remember what I said P?” He starts.

Almost faster than the speed of light she’s standing in front of him, big blue eyes piercing into his soul.

“Do you mean it really? Any colour?” 

He chuckles lightly. “Yeah honey, any colour you want.”

“Purple! Purple! Purple! I want purple!”

“Yeah honey. I think I can get you some purple paint.”

She throws herself into his arms at those words.

“Yay Dad, I love it here!”

The way she says those words, and the way her face is lit up with her smile makes Bob think that it might all be okay.

29th OF AUGUST, 2008

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

After a long week in the Fudd household it was finally Saturday, and that meant family fun day!

This week it was Azzi’s choice of activity. Much to her brother’s dismay she had chosen to plant flowers in the front garden. On Thursday, when her dad had gotten off work they had hopped in the car and driven to the plant nursery, where Azzi had selected delicate pink flowers to decorate the front yard, ‘Carnations’ the plant lady had said. 

Azzi had left the nursery, struggling slightly under the weight of the flower pot, yet still not allowing Tim Fudd to help her, despite incessant offers to.

She had picked her special spot in the front yard and was ready to depot the flowers. But when she woke up on Saturday and shovelled her breakfast in her mouth in the hopes of getting to family fun day faster she had come to the realisation that she was without a shovel, and effectively without a way to plant the flowers.

After a few (a lot) of tears, Katie and Tim packed their kids into the minivan and were off to Home Depot in search of a small pink shovel for Azzi.

As they scoured the aisles, their search was proving to be hopeless and the family’s hope was quickly dwindling.

After a second and third lap of the store, Azzi’s bottom lip began shaking, her eyes welling with tears, and before long she was planted on the floor, tears pooling out of her big brown eyes.

“I want the shovel! I neeeeeeeed the shovel!” She wailed.

“I know honey, but they just don’t have it. I’m sorry, we’ll try again next week.” Katie soothed, trying to deescalate the situation.

“But mom, I need it! How can I plant my flowers without it?” Azzi shrieked, now hitting her hands and legs against the hard concrete floor.

Before Katie could respond a little body with a big voice appeared in front of Azzi.

“What do you need? I bet I could find it for you, I’m really good at finding things!”

Azzi sniffled, wiping her nose before lifting her head to look at the girl before her.

She had bright blue eyes, a pale complexion and light blonde hair. She was taller than Azzi and a little gangly. Most notably, she had a slightly nervous smile and an inviting hand outstretched to her.

“I need a shovel. So I can plant my flowers.” She mumbled, still staring up at the other girl with her watery eyes.

“I like flowers, I’ll help you!” The girl responded, her face now empty of nerves and lit up with excitement.

Azzi grabbed onto her hand and before she could say anything to her parents she was being dragged through the store by the other girl.

“No, not here.” 

“Not here either.”

“Hmmm where could they be?”

The random girl’s remarks could be heard from across the store as they made their way through aisle after aisle, hand in hand.

“Where are they? Why can’t we find them?” Azzi huffed, coming to an abrupt stop, yanking her hand from the other girl’s.

“I’m not sure. I’m sorry. I’m really trying to find them.” The girl rambled, nerves creeping back onto her face as she watched Azzi’s eyes well with tears once again.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Azzi said, sadness momentarily forgotten as she looked at her new friend.

“What’s your name?” She continued.

“Paige. What’s yours?” Paige replied.

“Azzi”

“Nice to meet you Azzi, I’m Paige” With that Paige stuck out her hand, “Want to be friends?”

A split second of silence falls over them.

“Yeah Paige, let’s be friends!” Azzi takes her hand, both girls shaking with enthusiasm.

“Y’know I think my dad might have a shovel. We should go ask if we can borrow it!” Paige suggested, voice high-pitched with excitement.

“Is it pink?” Azzi questioned, her brows furrowed in anticipation.

“Ummmm. I don’t think so.” Paige replied.

“Hmmm. That's alright.” Azzi decided.

“Yay! Let’s go ask.”

—-

Paige and Azzi’s laughter reverberated off the walls of the Home Depot as they skipped back to their parents.

They had been standing together, making small talk and introductions. As they did so they realised that they lived on the same street a few houses apart. 

“Dad! Dad! We need to get our shovel so Azzi can plant her flowers!” Paige huffed as the pair came to stand in front of their parents.

“Slow down honey, start over.” Bob responded, unable to comprehend his daughter’s mumbling.

“Can-we-get-our-shovel-so-Azzi-can-plant-her-flowers. Please?” Paige says, leaving a comically large gap between each word.

“Yeah, sure, we can lend the shovel to our new neighbours.” Bob shrugs.

“NEIGHBOURS?!” The girls squeal in sync.

“Yeah, Az they moved into Mrs Mckinlay’s house, y’know the blue one?” Tim explained.

“That’s so close, yay Paige!” Azzi exclaimed.

“Dad, since we live so close, could I pleeeeease help Azzi with her flowers?” Paige begged, putting on her puppy dog eyes and pouting.

“Well I don’t see any issue with it if you guys don’t mind.” Bob says.

“That’s fine with us, the more the merrier.” Katie responds, smiling at the blossoming friendship between the two girls.

“Then it’s settled, time to go and plant some flowers!”

“But it's a family fun day!” Azzi’s brother’s chime in.

“Shut up sillies! I want to be with my best friend Paige!” Azzi flicked the two boys.

“AZZI! That is no way to behave.” Her dad scolded.

“Okay I’m sorry, can we go now?” She apologised.

“Yeah we can go.” 

“Me and Paige just need to check out, gotta buy our paint.” Bob explained, holding up the bucket of purple paint.

“I’m painting my room purple! Wanna come see it when it’s done Azzi?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

—--

The Bueckers and the Fudds met up in the street, and after ten minutes of Bob scavenging through their shed boxes, he was able to procure the elusive shovel.

“Here we go.” He said as the pair walked into the Fudd’s front lawn, passing the shovel to Azzi.

“Yay! Thanks Mr. Paige’s dad! C’mon Paige let’s go plant the flowers!”

They worked hard, light sheens of sweat covering their little foreheads from the late summer heat. Planting carnations was taxing work they discovered.

Once they placed the final flower down in the ditch, Azzi turned to Paige.

“Paige, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Will you officially be my best friend please? Cause I know I said you were before but I wanted to ask if you wanted to be.” Azzi mumbled, slightly nervous for the girl’s response.

“Yeah Azzi, I’m your best friend, and you’re mine, now and forever and ever and ever!”

“Pinky promise?”

“Double pinky promise.”

Their parents watch from the front porch as their daughters interlink pinkies and giggle together over everything and nothing.

It was clear Paige and Azzi were going to be in each other’s lives for a long, long time.

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Okay I hope that was alright and set up the story well enough. Thanks for reading :)

[bunnibombz]

Pt 4

Link to pt 3

Alpha! Simon who feels nearly sick at the thought of leaving when this was all over. Dawn breaking on the day your heat scent faded back to normal and sending a pang of anxiousness through his stomach. But he kept calm , keeping his instincts and feelings expertly under wraps. Though he couldn't say much for his scent, cinnamon overpowering and burning so harshly it almost burned his nose. His mind whirled in circles as the sun began to creep through the curtains, John's soft snoring from the far left side of the bed the only thing punctuating the quiet. Your warmth bled into his skin as you laid against his chest, one foot extended to press against John's thigh under the covers. Simon squeezed his arm a little around you, your sweet scent and the airy sigh that fanned across his chest calming him for a moment. How was anything ever going to be normal again after this? How was he gonna go back to speaking to you in passing as you brought Price the lunch that he forgot? Escorting you to and from the building when you asked him, to make sure no one got any funny ideas, like a real man should. As if he hadn't ravaged you into oblivion multiple times. It brought a whole new layer to the anxious feelings, having to pretend like he didn't feel a connection to you.

Alpha! Simon who freezes in his tracks as he packs up his bag in the guest room when he hears your voice.

"What are you doing Simon?" such a soft question he tensed.

"Packing my bag" He said simply, hoping his voice didn't sound too gruff.

"Why? Are you leaving?" the whimper in your voice had him turning on his heels, his heart thumping so hard he could feel it behind his teeth. The tears welling in your eyes nearly brought him to his knees as he moved to you with a soothing rumble in his chest as he pulled you in to hug you tight.

"Your heat's over sweetheart, I just thought that... well..." his hands went to your cup your jaw, angling your eyes up to his, "you and Price are together and I won't hurt anyone by getting in the middle of that".

"You aren't, you won't, I-" you stopped as tears began falling down your cheeks, moving forward against his grasp and pressing yourself against him. "Don't leave. We want you here".

Alpha! Simon who gets you to lay back down for awhile in the guest bed with him, your body and mind still so exhausted he ran his hand up and down your spine twice before you were asleep again. Simon heard the fridge open and close downstairs and knew Price was up. Once he was sure you were out, he slipped from the bed and headed downstairs.

"She asleep?" Price asked from his seat at the kitchen table, a hot mug of coffee in his hand. Simon nodded, sitting down at the table across from him. It was quiet for a long moment, both men gaging each other as if weighing what to say and who should say it first. Finally John took a breath, setting his cup on the table.

"She wants you to stay Simon," He started, watching every inch of the other Alpha's body language, "she seems to have grown a strong connection to you, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. But the decision is yours".

Simon paused, soaking in the information. "How do you feel about it?" He asked, not wanting to agree or admit to anything until he knew.

John chuckled light, a soft quirk to his lips. "I'm content with the situation, I enjoy your company, and it makes her happy so like I said the decision is yours".

Simon took a deep breath, thinking. It was an hour worth of back and forth conversation about arrangements and boundaries. How exactly all of this was going to go. John and him deciding that it was in your best interest, and theirs, if Simon moved in. The guest bedroom was already made up him, his stuff previously put meticulously in their spots. He wouldn't sell his home but instead rent it out and live full time here and part time there when needed.

Alpha! Simon who takes a few days to actually get settled after he moves his essentials in. Folding and then re folding his clothes and putting them back in his dresser. Making his bed with crisp corners at least twice a day. And pacing. Stalking, really, around the downstairs and checking every door and window to make sure things were locked tight, a low growl bubbling from his throat anytime he saw someone outside.

Alpha! Simon who gets comfortable with the routine, going to work with Price in the morning and then coming home to you at night with a hot meal on the table. His comfort is cuddling down in the bed with you, holds your wame body against his and gets restful sleep for the first time in a long time. He gets so comfortable, in fact that the aching canines, overpowering scent, and the terrifyingly short temper didn't pop any red flags or concerns on his end. Despite the signs of his rut getting clearer and clearer

[rie-092]

BIGGEST FAN.

[ yandere! editor ]

summary: for some reasons, your new editor seemed to adore you more than you thought.

ryota yamazaki was a big fan of yours even back when he was in highschool.

this dude read every manga that you made even the doujinshis that you sell back when you were only a rookie. maybe because of that, he made up his mind to become an editor in the same publishing company where you work when he graduated in school.

everyone was definitely confused. i mean, why would an engineer student who graduated with flying colors wanted to be an editor? there's a bright future waiting for him. so why?

but he didn't care. he just wanted to catch a glimpse of you. since you really detest attending fan meetings or book signings. saying that it'll be a waste of time.

ryota was good at his job, that's for sure. because he was good at motivating the dying mangakas to finish their deadlines. what was his secret? hmm, maybe a couple of persuasion? well, it's not like he is hurting them tho—

a couple of months after getting his job, he was now finally met the editor assigned to you. now, he got your address and stuffs. that's how he started his plan.

at first, he will just stay and watch your shadow in front of your house. then he will follow you if you ever left your house. hmm, look at his goddess. really unaware that someone was following them.

you're wondering how he knew it was you even though you never showed your true face in public? well, it's a hunch. and besides, with that eyebags and tired body that might collapse with just a finger flick— yep, it's definitely a characteristic of a mangaka.

and when your editor quit his job, he basically begged the chief editor to assign him to you. and he succeeded!

the first time you met him (face to face or atleast formally since he's not stalking you this time) let's just say it wasn't that good. since this moron ended up having a nosebleed when he saw you up close. you looked so cute, so soft— that he could eat you up!

not literally, okay? but figuratively.

will be the definition of a husband material but make it twisted. this dude will be more than happy to clean up your house while waiting for you to finish your work.

but don't ask why some things (like your toothbrush, pillowcase or pencil) was missing. because it was currently enshrined inside his room along with those cute little photosnaps that he got while you were not looking. he also had some of your hair strands there.

well, it was creepy but for him it wasn't at all. this is how he show his love!

but well, aside from those habit of his. this guy was pretty good as a yandere because he wasn't a violent, jealous nor forcing one. he just want to see his goddess! and for him— he wasn't worthy to touch his goddess, duh.

he definitely loves spoiling you. he always have treats whenever he visits your house. like cakes, cookies, macarons— oh! you weren't able to do groceries because of your deadline? he'll do it for you! he will surely buy you expensive ones, don't worry about it!

to sum it up all, ryota was an obsessive yandere who thinks that his mangaka! s/o was a goddess that he didn't deserve. he was pretty tamed and won't do anything that will hurt or make you sad. maybe the worse thing that he can do is planting cameras in your house and installing tracking device on your phone when he asked you if he can use your phone for a moment because he forgot his phone in the office (when in truth it was inside his bag)

this dude can be creepy as hell but he is a cute one so please take care of him!

“ hmm? you're allergic with (food) right? how did i know? well, let's just say that i know everything about you. ”

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: none, really... some curse words, alcohol, Merle being Merle

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: Since it's my birthday today, I thought why not give y'all a little gift and post two chapters of LITRM this week. 🤗

I'm a lil' insecure about this chapter, though... I hope you are going to like it! Also, we have small cameos of two well-known TWD characters, hehe. Oh, and Merle, of course.

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Three 》 《 Chapter Five 》

Chapter Four...

... in which Daryl takes on a destiny changing job and you desperately try to forget the stranger who had conquered your heart so surprisingly - without success?

It had been two months and two days since Daryl's motorcycle trip through America with the gang and three months and eight days since the night he had spent with you. Now he was back at work; things bouncing back to normalcy.

A grunt left his lips as he realised that his break was over. He took a last drag of his cigarette, before he let the stub fall to the ground; stubbing it out with the heel of his boot. Then the biker returned to his current workplace in the motorcycle shop his brother, Merle, owned.

He picked up where he left off, exchanging the bike's chain, as he suddenly saw Merle approaching him in the corner of his eyes. "Got a job for ya, baby brother," Merle came to stand beside him; a piece of paper dangling between his pointer finger and thumb. Daryl looked up at his brother. With a grunt, he stood from where he was squatting beside the vehicle and wiped his greasy hands on the light blue, baggy overall he wore. "A job, huh?" Daryl said; taking the piece of paper.

It was an offer from a few different motorcycle dealer, who wanted to sell some of their customised bikes. "You wan' me to check 'em out?" Merle nodded; crossing his arms over his chest. Daryl scoffed and shoved the piece of paper into his brother's chest. "Nah. Got better stuff ta do. Go check 'em out yourself or send T-Dog or someone else."

Merle laughed out loud at his little brother's words. "Ya really think I'd send someone like T-Dog? Lil' piece of shit can be glad that I'll still let 'im work here." "Then ya gotta go yerself," Daryl shrugged his shoulders and focused back on work.

Merle stood beside him for quite a few more moments in silence; just watching. At some point, it got on Daryl's nerves and he looked up at his older brother again; "Wha'?" noticing that he had a shit eating grin on his face. "Ohh, baby brother... You should really give this another think, ya know... 'Cause all of them dealers are in Montana - and from what I heard 'bout your last trip with your lil' friends, you had a lotta fun there, right?"

Daryl scoffed; already disliking this conversation. "Righ', fun."

It wasn't a lie. It was the truth and he couldn't deny it.

Merle's dirty grin widened. "So yer goin'?" Daryl grunted, but nodded; not having the nerves or want to continue this 'discussion'. "Fine. 'M goin'." The older Dixon laughed once again; "Thought ya couldn't resist." giving Daryl a rather harsh clap on the shoulder. "Hope yer havin' just as much fun this time, baby brother. Jus' make sure ya don't get too caught up, eh? I want dem bikes." The biker grumbled under his breath, while Merle walked away; amused by his brother's behaviour.

A few days later, Daryl was on the road again for his almost thirty hours ride to Montana with a stopover in Sioux City, Iowa, where he stayed the night in a motel and continued his journey very early in the morning - until he reached his (first) destination... Miles City. The moon had already replaced the sun, when he threw the keys to his motel room on the bed; angel-winged vest, sunglasses and helmet following. The biker was tired from all the driving and travelling, but he didn't feel like going to bed. Not yet.

He quickly paid the tiny bathroom a visit, before he searched his backpack for his beloved cap, grabbed his run-down wallet and the keys again. Then he made his way to the bar he held very good memories of... 'The Rowdy Raccoon'.

Being way closer to the establishment this time than a few months ago, he could walk and didn't have to drive - which was fortunate, in case he decided to have a few more beers or drinks.

The bar hadn't changed. It was still the same. Nice people, good music and excellent alcohol. Daryl immediately had a good feeling - just like last time. Like a déjà-vu.

His eyes scanned the area; not finding a single familiar face in the crowd, but he didn't care. He was here for the drinks, a round of pool and perhaps to find some company for the night. After getting himself the first beer of the evening, Daryl joined a group of three men, who had just made their way to the pool tables. They were open and friendly; letting him join the game, of course and welcoming him in their circle.

'Start Me Up' by The Rolling Stones was blaring from the old jukebox as Daryl's cue hit the white cue ball on the pool table.

He was definitely in for a long night. That much was clear.

You didn't know why you had decided to go in town this evening. Perhaps it was the urge to escape the same four walls around you and with that your mind - which had become more and more a trap for you the past days and weeks... Tess told you to get over it. Over him. And you tried. God knows you did, but you just couldn't. You felt utterly stupid for holding on to this, but your heart acted on its own will. One night was enough to make you a fool for man, who you barely knew and you'd most likely never see again.

You sighed; grimacing as you stopped at the bar.

I need a drink, you convinced yourself, but deep down you knew that you just went there because it reminded you of him. You weren't able to escape it. It was like an invisible string pulling you in. So, you did what you had already done nth times before... Stepping inside the 'rowdy Raccoon'.

The by now familiar smell of alcohol, cold smoke and a trillion different perfumes hit your nose. Without wasting another thought, you stepped directly over to the bar counter; sliding on one of the stools. "Hey, Y/N," the bartender greeted you with a smile. You became quite good friends over the last few months. "Hey, Magna." "Same as always?" You nodded. "Yeah, please." The woman with inked skin wiped her hands on a towel and immediately went to work.

"There you go, honey," Magna said; placing a glass in front of you. "One Whiskey Cola." "Thanks."

You did some small talk with Magna; trying to not get too lost in your own thoughts - and it worked. In your eyes, it was a success. A step in the right direction - but only mere minutes later, you got thrown off track once again; harder than ever before...

Returning from a visit to the restrooms, Magna placed a second glass of Whiskey Cola in front of you, causing you to frown. "Magna, I didn't-" "I know," the bartender interrupted you immediately. "But that guy over there insisted on buying you a drink. Guess you got a secret admirer." Magna winked; jutting her head into the direction of the pool tables. Still frowning, your eyes followed her gesture - and what you then saw made you question your sanity for a good minute...

Beside the left pool table stood none other than the man who had managed to turn your whole world upside down within a few hours; a cue in his right hand, a beer in the other. He was talking to some other dudes he was playing with - all of them unfamiliar to you and not his motorcycle gang. The signature angel-winged vest, chestnut brown curls and black baseball cap was unmistakable... It was Daryl.

"No fucking way..." You mumbled underneath your breath; still trying to grasp this. You were quite a bit afraid that you were drunk already or dreaming and therefore hallucinating - but when your eyes met those endless blue-grey orbs, you knew it was real. Your thundering heart inside of your chest was enough proof. The world seemed to stop turning around you. All you could see, was the handsome biker across from you - and the beautiful, cheeky little smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.

Like in a trance, you slipped off the bar stool; legs carrying you over to the man in leather and jeans.

"D-Daryl?" You breathed in disbelief, as your hand twitched beside your body; desperately resisting the urge to touch him and see if he was truly real.

The man kept on smirking softly; nodding at you. "Hey, cowgirl. Thought I was never gonna see ya again... 'N yet here we are."

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