#i swear this isn't as salty as it looks

[konigsblog]

Chubby konig and he “inadvertently” causes his gf to gain a few pounds ^_^

Chubby-König swears that deep down, he isn't the cause for the extra pounds you gain.

A part of him feels perverted and deranged. He gets off to the new softness on your gorgeous body, how plush your hips have become and how swollen your breasts look with his lips wrapped around a stiff nipple, gazing up at you lovingly with lazy, half-lidded eyes.

König couldn't help himself; the thoughts wouldn't leave his sick head. He made delicious treats - your favourite - and fed them to you after his calorific and delectable homemade dinner. I mean, his cooking is truthfully irresistible, and König knows you so well. He palms his hard boner and breathes heavily watching as you eat slowly, a perverted grin curling the sides of his mouth when you compliment the taste, or the surprising but delicious saltiness in the icing. If only you knew what he had used for the icing, Liebling...

You attempt to cover up and conceal your insecurities with baggy clothes - more specifically, his clothes. And although König adores the adorable sight of you wearing his clothing, he wants to see all his hard work, what his effort has created. He pulls the t-shirt from your body and pins your wrists down beside your hips, so that you're unable to use your arms to hide the flesh on your stomach. He presses his face between your soft, warm thighs and slowly rolls his tongue over your clothed cunt until your panties are damp and you're shamefully pleading to be eaten out.

Oh, don't worry, Mäusi, König wouldn't deny that offer. He'll suck and slurp at your wet, sloppy pussy while complimenting every curve, while you weep peacefully through pleasure. You're the epitome of perfect to König, who admires every pound gained to your body.

[russellsppttemplates]

Parenting Practice (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time, hasn't it? A lot has been going on, and my mental health has taken the biggest toll, so the blog hasn't received much attention as I'm trying to keep the train going! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

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

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant

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

"Are you all packed, my love?", Lando asked you as he zipped his suitcase effortlessly.

"Yes - are you sure it's fine if I take my pillow?", you wondered, holding the pregnancy pillow close to you, folding it into the carrier bag.

"It's regular carry-on, and as much as I hate that I have to share my cuddles with it, I know you sleep better with it so you definitely need to take it", Lando winked.

Blushing at your husband's antics, you made sure it was packed before looking around in case you missed something you needed to pack, "seems like I'm all good too - when do we need to leave?".

"In thirty minutes - how about I make us a snack to eat, then you can go pee before we go and then we head to the airport?", Lando suggested.

"Why did you need to specify that I have to take a pee break?", you poked you tongue out at him, pinching his butt as he walked past you.

"You were the one that told me I should always inform you of when you couldn't pee for a long time! The jet will touchdown to pick us both up and go straight up again - I don't think we will have time to use the base's bathroom, and you say you don't like the jet's bathroom, so I was just warning you, woman!", he bit back playfully.

Recalling the last time where you tried to use the bathroom and had to call Pietra to hold you in case you couldn't get out on your own, afraid that the bump would make moving around the tiny space impossible, you swore you'd always plan your pee breaks carefully from now on, "I'm craving something salty", you beamed as Lando walked down the stairs.

"A salty snack for mama and baby girl coming right up!", he yelled back and you could just imagine his head shaking from side to side with a charming smile on his face.

Your mother in-law was the first to greet you as soon as you stepped inside the aircraft, Lando holding your hand to make you didn't fall and helping with your shoes, "Y/N! Oh, you look so gorgeous!", she cooed.

"It's the compression socks, isn't it?", you giggled, lifting up your long skirt to show her, "doctor said it would be better for the swelling - Goodness knows I need all the help I can with that", you mumbled the last bit.

"Don't be silly, you look beautiful!", Pietra complimented.

"She does, doesn't she?", Lando complimented, kissing your cheek before letting you go and feeling slightly jealous that everyone was now looking at you when you had been a sight for his eyes only for the past few days.

.

"Is all of that jealousy, brother?", Cisca asked her brother, touching her toes on his thigh after she sat down on her beach chair. The sun had finally showed up and there was a light breeze going on, making it the perfect beach day and it was only lunchtime as they sat on the beach bar after making the food orders.

"Jealousy? Of what?", Lando quirked his eyebrow over his sunglasses, drifting his attention from you and looking back to his youngest sister.

"The girls haven't left Y/N since the plane, only to sleep and Sav was just saying she swears she heard Athena call your wife before she fell asleep", she snickered, "You've lost favourite uncle status, we all have I think".

"Like we stood a chance to begin with", Lando scoffed, "she was made to be a mother, and before that she had all the practice with being an auntie. And the girls genuinely think they can play with baby girl like they play with their dolls once she's here with us".

"Mila is gentle most days, Athena is... still a bit hard on her movements I think - oh, just on cue!", she yelped.

"Oh, darling, that was a bit strong, wasn't it?", you scolded softly, taking her hand away from your ear after she pushed on your hoop.

"Come here, you trouble maker!", Adam called, grabbing the little girl away from your lap as you rearranged your jewellery.

"She surely has a strong grip!", you chuckled before winking at Lando, mouthing a silent "I love you, Lan" across the table.

Cisca groaned playfully, "is all of that jealousy, little sister?", Lando teased her before blowing you a kiss and mouthing it back.

.

You were enjoying the pool the villa had, soaking up the sun as you laid on Lando's chest, tracing random shapes on his chest while his hand travelled around your waist and bump, often tapping it when your little girl kicked or moved.

It was fairly quiet until the girls woke up from their naps, immediately coming down to join you and invite everyone to swim with them.

Deciding to engage in their delight, you got up and walked to the edge of the pool, carefully sitting on the warm stone and letting your legs dip in the water to cool your body while Lando dove in and played with the girls, "careful, Mila, you can't unzip your vest!", he called.

Pulling her closer to you, you managed to zip it back up and help her swim back to her uncle, "is the bump getting in the way?", Sav asked you, mimicking your early movements and sitting next to you.

"When I'm sitting down, yes", you chuckled, "I don't have the same range of movements and my mind still has to catch up with that".

"It's a sign that she's growing well though", your sister in-law added, propping herself up on her arms so she could ease the rest of ther body into the water, getting immediate attention from her children as they called her to them, "soon enough you'll have someone calling you every waking second!".

"She already does, though! Look at him making a bee line to her now that she's free!", Oliver joked as Lando swam to you.

"I won't even bother answering that", Lando pointed to his brother before reaching you, ignoring everyone else as he gently wrapped his arms around your calves and rested his chin on your knees, "hi, beautiful", he smiled.

"Hey, handsome", you smiled, brushing a fallen curl away from his forehead, "did you enjoy your splashes?", you asked giggling.

"It was fun, yes. Athena poked my eye a couple of times though", he argued, "can you imagine our little princess playing with them this time next year?", he wondered.

"Three little girls", you mused, nodding at the idea, "you better get ready to be a princess too!".

"I have what it takes to be a girl dad, some people might even say I'm very girl dad coded", he tsked you, earning laughs from you.

"You definitely are, yes", you rubbed your bump, "you haven't been her long and she's already kicking like crazy - definitely a daddy's girl".

"Hey, sweet girl", Lando spoke, lightly wetting the skin as his hands touched your bump, "are you having a good time in there? Mummy always says she's too hot so we hope you're doing good away from this heat. And this helps, no?", he wondered as the baby kicked against the droplets, "yeah, it's good and cooling", he cooed.

.

"I'm craving something salty", you said as you grabbed the menu, flicking the pages to see what tickled your fancy.

You had decided to go to the beach bar and have lunch there, not wanting to have to pack everything to go back home only to come back for the afternoon. Everyone was gathered around the table as the waiter took the orders.

"Feeling good? Well rested?", you asked Lando once you caught him looking at you.

"Yes", he admitted, "I thought it would be harder to switch off, but it's been very good", he squeezed your thigh, kissing the side of your head and pulling you to his chest, "how are my girls today? You look ethereal in this dress, darling".

The white dress was flowy at times and tight in all the right spots, showcasing your babybump perfectly, "we've been good, no more harsh kicking on my bladder which I appreciate, isn't that right, Tilly?", you rubbed just above your bellybutton, "but we're both quite hungry".

"The waiter said yours should be quick to make", he offered since the waiter mentioned that the Caesar salad was a popular plate and they always had it running.

Once everyone was served, you began eating, delighted and exclaiming how good e everything was.

"Have a bite of this, baby, trust me!", Lando offered as he gathered a bit of everything on his fork to feed you.

"It's sweet, I'm not sure I'll like it", you scrunched up your face.

"Try a little bit", he encouraged as he made a shell shape with his hand to catch anything that fell or dropped.

The food was definitely the opposite of what you had, but it was delicious. That you couldn't deny.

"It's good, isn't it? I told you!", Lando smiled, "do you want some more?", he offered while already getting everything on the fork again.

"Baby girl seems happy too", you giggled, feeling her move.

"She has good taste in food, what can I say?!", Lando giggled back.

.

The vacation was well underway by the time you decided which days you wanted to spend on the boat, Oliver and Savannah staying inside with the girls along with Adam and Cisca who decided they would make lunch for everyone.

"Do you know what I have just realised?", you spoke to Flo as you both watched Lando and Cisca's boyfriend jump into the water, "your brother has a massive head - like, it's really big, specially when you compare to Max's", you pointed to your husband's best friend who had joined you for the last few days.

That morning, you cried about the fact that your bikini dug on your hips only for Lando to tell you that you hadn't tired the sides properly and that you had more than enough room to accommodate your growing body, so right now this was a way better way to deal with the rush of hormones you were having.

"I think we all do, to be fair - Cisca has the smalled one I guess", Flo squinted as she looked at her sister who walked closer to you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?", Cisca wondered.

"I've just realised how big your brother's head is and how I'm probably going to be split apart when this little girl - little body but surely a big head - joins us", you rubbed your bump as tears formed in your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, my friends have had babies with big heads and they're fine", Pietra offered, "they were just fine", she said before waving at Max so him and Lando could come to the rescue.

"I don't know why I'm crying, which makes this even worse - Goodness", you wiped your eyes and chuckled, "I can feel her head, it's about here from what I remember from the scans - and it's big, like, really big! How is that going to work?", you blurted.

"What's the matter? Is everything alright? Y/N, are you good? Is it Tilly?", Lando asked worriedly as he saw you break into a fit of giggles and seeing the girls fight their laughter a bit before joining.

"The matter is that you have a big head and Tilly's will also be big", you explained, "I'm not the tiniest person ever, so there's definitely room but can you imagine? I have to ask your mother how big your head was when you were born because I feel like I need to do prep work for it", you mused, "it's all natural until you decide to have a kid with the guy who has a big head".

"Oh, Y/N has gone dark", Max muttered, earning himself a swat on his forehead from Pietra, "what? Did I lie?", he hissed, containing his laughter.

"I'm not sure what you'd like me to do here, my love", Lando admitted, sitting next to you and attempting to squeeze your thigh lovingly, knowing the affectionate gesture could go both ways.

"Our baby is making me feel like I have the emotional and cognitive skills of a toddler", you mumbled as you cuddled your husband, supporting your bump with a pillow Flo got for you as you both layed down.

"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind having to reason with you - we'll consider this practice for when we have our little one, okay beautiful?", Lando kissed your forehead.

[f14fun]

big mouth, big brain (!youtuber x op81) ~ part 3

synopsis: in which case y/n, a video essayist pops up on oscar's youtube feed, and he falls in love with the way she speaks and tells stories

smau + prose (2.7K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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I was going to be on a bloody yacht.

He led me down a winding path that skirted the beach, the sound of the waves growing louder in the stillness of the night. As we walked, the anticipation built between us. I could feel the warmth of his hand, the steadiness of his grip, and it was incredibly reassuring.

"Are you serious?" I asked, a mix of disbelief and excitement in my voice. "You have a yacht?"

"Well, it's not exactly mine," he admitted with a grin. "But a friend of mine owns it, and he owes me a favor."

I laughed, shaking my head in amazement. "This night keeps getting better and better."

He chuckled softly, the sound blending with the rhythmic crash of the waves. The moonlight danced on the water's surface, casting a surreal glow around us. As we continued along the path, a soft breeze played with my hair, carrying the salty scent of the sea. Each step seemed to deepen the connection between us, making the night feel like a secret we shared.

The path curved gently, revealing a secluded cove where a sleek yacht bobbed gently in the water. Its polished hull gleamed under the moonlight, and the sight took my breath away. "Wow," I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from the elegant vessel. It was like something out of a dream, a luxurious escape from the ordinary world.

He grinned at my reaction, clearly pleased with the effect. "Impressive, isn't it?" he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Just wait until you see the view from onboard."

Together, we descended the wooden steps leading to the dock. The yacht swayed slightly as we stepped aboard, the deck cool beneath my bare feet. Soft music played from hidden speakers, creating a soundtrack to the night's unfolding magic.

He led me to the bow, where a plush seating area awaited us. It felt like stepping into another realm, far removed from the worries of everyday life.

We stood together at the dock, looking away from the marina and towards the water that was calming rippling underneath the gaze of the shining moonlight.

My white dress swayed in the wind, my lips glossy under the moonlight, and his hand tightly wrapped around mine. Every once in a while we would sneak glances at each other, while we thought the other one wasn't looking.

Biting my lip slightly when he would look at me, I felt nervous and hot underneath his gaze. Squirming, he grabbed my chin.

"Y/N, don't do that do your lips," he trailed off, speaking softly to me as his thumb gently rubbed my chin. Looking up at him through my lashes, everything around us suddenly seemed to fade away.

"Okay-," I dwindled off, as his gaze sudden detracted from my eyes, and trailed down to my plump lips.

In that moment, he seemed to get closer. Putting my hand on his chest, I could hear his faint heartbeat get louder and pump faster. He was nervous. I, made him nervous.

He was softly exhaling, as was I. I could only hear our breaths, slowly getting faster in that moment. Oscar's head titled, and in that moment, I knew what was about to come.

Grabbing my jaw, he made direct eye contact with me. "May I kiss you, Y/N?" My heartbeat fluttered, and I swear I could feel something else beating as well.

"Of course," I softly replied. The moment I gave consent, he dove right in. Lips connecting, time seemed to stop.

One of his arms tightly gripped my waist, the other gripping my jaw as he was softly kissing me. He was so gentle, yet so passionate and loving. Groaning into my mouth as I wrapped my arms around his neck, I felt his neck muscles flex. Playing with his soft brown hair, my freshly manicured champagne-colored chrome nails gently scratched his scalp.

We kissed passionately for what seemed like hours. Though it must have been a few minutes of bliss in reality. I was the first to part, and noticed that my lip gloss and lipstick was smothered all around his lip area.

Chuckling I wiped it off and showed him the red Dior lipstick stain on my thumb that had resided on his cheek.

"Looks like I've been marked," he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned closer. "Should I be worried about leaving a trail of evidence?"

I laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Depends on whether you want to be found," I teased, unable to resist the flirtatious banter that seemed to come so effortlessly between us.

He grinned, his gaze lingering on mine. "Maybe I don't mind being caught," he replied, his voice low and filled with suggestion.

I chuckled, enjoying the playful dance of words between us. "Oh, so you're admitting to being a wanted man?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "Only if you're the one doing the chasing," he whispered, his voice sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

I leaned back slightly, feigning contemplation. "Hmm, I do have a knack for tracking down elusive characters," I mused, my tone teasing yet tinged with genuine interest.

He chuckled softly, the sound like music in the stillness of the early morning. "Then I suppose I'm in trouble," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I pretended to study him with exaggerated seriousness. "Well, you did lead me down this path," I pointed out, gesturing around us at the yacht and the tranquil sea beyond. "Seems like you've left quite a trail."

He nodded, his expression turning more earnest. "It's a path I'm glad you decided to follow," he said softly, his fingers lightly tracing circles on the back of my hand.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. "Me too," I admitted, my gaze meeting his and holding steady. "I guess we'll just have to see where it leads."

He leaned even closer, his lips brushing against my earlobe as he whispered, "I'm hoping it leads to more moments like this."

My heart skipped a beat at his confession, the intimacy of the moment both exhilarating and comforting. "I think we're off to a pretty good start," I replied, my voice filled with a mix of playfulness and sincerity.

Feeling even more bold, I chuckled softly, feeling a rush of playful energy between us. "I must admit, you wear it well," I said, holding up my thumb to show him the faint smudge of lipstick. "But you might want to be more careful next time."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Noted," he replied, his tone light yet tinged with a hint of flirtation. "Though I have to say, it's a small price to pay for such delightful company."

I felt a blush creep into my cheeks at his compliment, the warmth spreading through me like the first rays of morning sunlight. "Flattery will get you everywhere," I teased, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at my lips.

His gaze softened, the playful glint giving way to a more sincere expression. "I mean it," he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against mine. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

The sincerity in his voice touched me, making my heart flutter in a way I hadn't expected. "I'm glad," I replied honestly, meeting his gaze with an openness that surprised even myself. "Tonight has been... unexpected, in the best possible way."

He nodded, his fingers intertwining with mine. "Sometimes the best moments are the ones we don't plan," he mused, his tone thoughtful. "Like finding a lipstick stain on your cheek."

I laughed softly, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves against the yacht's hull. "Who would have thought a little makeup mishap could lead to such a moment?" I said, shaking my head in amused disbelief.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "Maybe it's a sign," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "That we're meant to leave a mark on each other's lives."

His words sent a thrill through me, the romantic notion echoing in the quiet space between us. "I like the sound of that," I admitted, feeling a sense of anticipation building between us like a rising tide.

He smiled, a softness in his eyes that made my pulse quicken. "Me too," he replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand. "So, what do you say we continue this adventure? See where it takes us next."

I nodded, a surge of excitement and curiosity coursing through me. "I'd like that," I said earnestly, feeling a surge of gratitude for the serendipitous turn of events that brought us together on this yacht, under this moonlit sky.

As the moon held its vigil in the night sky, casting a silvery sheen over the yacht's deck, we settled into a cozy corner under a blanket. The soft glow of candles created an intimate atmosphere, illuminating the desserts before us—a plate of tiramisu and crème brûlée, their decadent aromas mingling with the salty sea air.

He poured us each a glass of champagne, the effervescent bubbles adding a touch of celebratory cheer to the serene scene. "To unexpected adventures," he toasted, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he handed me a flute.

I smiled, clinking my glass against his. "To seizing the moment," I replied, savoring the crisp taste of the champagne as it tickled my palate.

We shared the desserts, trading playful banter and lingering glances that spoke volumes in the quietude of the night. Each bite of tiramisu melted on my tongue, rich and creamy, while the crème brûlée offered a delightful contrast of smooth custard beneath a perfectly caramelized crust.

Between bites, we talked about our dreams and aspirations, our favorite travel destinations, and even our shared love for late-night escapades. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by moments of laughter and the occasional shared sigh of contentment.

"I guess we've hit the apex of the evening," he quipped, his tone teasing yet filled with affection, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

I chuckled softly, enjoying the playful reference. "Well, if this is the apex, I can't wait to see what the straightaway looks like," I replied, matching his playful banter with a hint of flirtation.

He grinned, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of my hand. "Trust me, the view from the podium is even better with you by my side," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

The warmth of his words sent a shiver down my spine, mingling with the gentle breeze that caressed our faces. The night around us seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the two of us in our private world aboard the yacht.

Leaning closer, our gazes locked in a silent agreement of shared desire, we savored each bite of dessert as if it were a testament to the sweetness of this moment. The occasional brush of fingertips, the soft exchange of smiles—it all spoke of a connection that went beyond mere words.

As the yacht rocked gently on the tranquil waters, I found myself drawn to him more than ever, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. This night, filled with laughter and stolen glances, had woven a tapestry of intimacy that I never wanted to unravel.

"I'm glad you invited me," I confessed softly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a comforting embrace.

His gaze softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I couldn't imagine sharing this with anyone else," he admitted, his fingers entwining with mine in a gesture that spoke volumes.

"And hey, if things go really well, I hear they offer Australian citizenship with every marriage," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned closer.

I couldn't help but laugh at his playful suggestion, feeling a surge of affection for his sense of humor. "Are you trying to bribe me with dual citizenship now?" I quipped back, a playful twinkle in my eye.

He chuckled, his fingers gently squeezing mine. "Hey, it's just a perk," he replied with mock seriousness, his smile widening into a grin that lit up his face.

I leaned closer, teasingly narrowing my eyes at him. "Well, I'll have you know, my love can't be bought with citizenship perks," I teased, my tone light but tinged with warmth.

His grin softened into a look of genuine fondness. "Good to know," he murmured, his gaze lingering on mine as if trying to capture every detail of this moment.

The night air around us seemed to hum with possibility, as if the universe itself was conspiring to weave our destinies together. I found myself drawn to him in ways I couldn't fully articulate, my heart singing with a melody that resonated with his presence.

"But if you keep feeding me dessert like this," I added with a playful wink, "you might just convince me otherwise."

He laughed softly, the sound like music to my ears. "Consider it a delicious bribe, then," he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection.

We watched as the moonlight danced on the surface of the sea, casting a spell of tranquility over us. Time slowed to a leisurely pace, allowing us to savor each moment, each stolen glance, and each shared smile.

As the clock struck midnight, marking the transition into a new day, we remained on the deck, wrapped in each other's warmth and the promise of what lay ahead.

And as we eventually bid farewell to the night, reluctant to let go of the magic we had found, I knew that this evening had woven our hearts together in a tapestry of hope and possibility.

Hand in hand, we returned to the shore, our laughter echoing against the quiet backdrop of the ocean. The night had been a gift—a testament to the beauty of chance encounters and the transformative power of shared experiences.

And as we looked towards the future, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement, knowing that our journey together had only just begun.

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yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 233,152 others

yourusername: ignore the elephant in the room (twitter)

view comments

user1: alrrr, aesthetic queen

user2: not them using their own drunk paparazzi pics in their post, it's giving iconic shit

user3: I AM NEVER FORGETTING THOSE TWEETS THEY WERE FUCKING HILARIOUS GIRLLL

user4: nahhh nawt the "pls pls pls gimme ur babies"

user4: IN TEARS. 😭😭

user5: she must've been HELLA DRUNK to post those

user6: oscar too LMFAOO

user7: i know she just woke up feeling like shit, checked her phone, then wanted to kys

landonorris: those tweets...

landonorris: pr wants to talk to both of you...😭

yourusername: oh god oh god i'm in trouble

yourusername: little old me, a content creator online did the single handedly worse possible thing not to do: drunk post

oscarpiastri: LMFAO GET WRECKED🫵🏻🫵🏻

landonorris: what are you laughing about ur probably in trouble too 🫵🏼

user8: LMAOOO lando got their ass

user9: he said "check urself" before u check her

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 212,655 others

oscarpiastri: she's too cute, so i asked to be her boyfriend

view comments

yourusername: "can I be your boyfriend" >> "can you be my girlfriend" 🧡🧡🤤🙌🏼😇😍🥰🥰🥰😘

user1: "can I be your boyfriend" >> "can you be my girlfriend"

user2: "can I be your boyfriend" >> "can you be my girlfriend"

user3: "can I be your boyfriend" >> "can you be my girlfriend"

user4: "can I be your boyfriend" >> "can you be my girlfriend"

user5: wow mate, you really think you're winning in life

oscarpiastri: i really am. she was doing donuts on my dick last night

yourusername: OSCAR DELETE THAT BEFORE ADMIN SEES SKSKKSKS

oscarpiastri: well... you didn't deny it

landonorris: oscar jack piastri. you are going to give admin another fucking heart attack.

mclaren: 👁️👁️🕵🏼

user6: LMAOOOO GN

this comment thread has been deleted

user7: DID YOU SEE THE DELETED COMMENT THREAD LMAO

user8: i hope someone screenshotted ts and put it on twitter lol

user9: ughhh i love them so much

landonorris: congrats guys!! mawmaw yi pawpaw 🧡🫵🏼

liked by oscarpiastri and yourusername

yourusername: can i be your girlfriend, oscar? 🧡

oscarpiastri: can i be your boyfriend, y/n? 🧡

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[pentechnics]

Can't Get Enough

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader rating: E | explicit | 18+ only word count: ~1,200 tags: nsfw, hate sex, angry sex, penetrative sex, throat/breath play, rough sex, multiple orgasms, angst, reader and din hate each other yet can't get enough, din makes you sad, no physical descriptions of reader, no y/n

notes: This isn't my usual style, but I just kinda had to get some stuff out. Not really edited or fully flushed out, for that matter. But hopefully posting something new will help me get further in my other work! I have something due for the d20 writing challenge and I am so sorry that one hasn't happened dfghjsfkl

taglist under the cut❤️

He slammed you against the wall with a loud thunk.

Your throat was sore from exertion, your pulse quickening with each groan he released.

His hand found your neck again and held tight, forcing you to look into that visor and see your own lust-blown gaze reflected back at you.

Fuck, he pissed you off. He got to see you like this, but you didn’t. Every time you two wound up like this, it felt like another charge added to an invisible tab. Like he owed you something, because you always gave him everything.

The thought was brief, soon vanquished by another angry thrust, pain and pleasure melding together and turning your brain to mush.

You peered in deeper, willing his eyes to show themselves. You channeled every ounce of mental energy you had left into him – how much he hurt you, how angry he made you. How angry you were at yourself to have given into this again.

And why? Nothing ever changed. He’d come over, both of you would be pissed as all hell, take it out on each other, and then he’d leave. Neither of you walked away feeling any better.

… You never stopped to wonder why he kept coming back. It took two to keep this up, after all. You sucked on his thumb when he stuck it in your mouth, wrapping your legs around him to bring him deeper into you.

You hated this. You hated that it always came down to this for you to feel something. Ever since the two of you broke up you’ve been searching for something, but hell if you knew what it was.

You hated that he was still your answer. You surely didn’t love him anymore, but you hated that you still needed him.

Especially because he doesn’t need you.

He rammed into you, deeper and deeper, sending you into convulsions. You screamed into the humid air, grasping at his shoulders for dear life.

His own cries followed, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing into the darkness. He pried you off the wall and threw you down on the bed, putting the full force of his weight into each delicious stroke.

You couldn’t help the whines that spilled out of you. He had a way of dragging out every single sensation until you were drowning in it all. Drowning in him.

It was infuriating.

You pulled yourself up to his shoulder, kissing and biting at his salty skin. A gorgeous, vindicating sense of pride soared through you when he let out a whimper. 

You liked to think you were the only one who could make him do that.

It made him pound harder into you. Your bite matched, his skin muffling your screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you panted.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Swears piled out of you. Your heart was pounding, your blood on fire. He had the nerve to fucking chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?”

 “Bastard.”

He did it again. You wailed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Any wittiness he had was gone. His pace became manic, one goal in mind. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to ram his cock against your g-spot.

“Close your fucking eyes,” he growled, pressing a hand over them.

The sensations grew stronger without the distraction of sight. Especially after hearing the familiar hiss of his helmet and feeling the subsequent mouth on your neck.

Your moan echoed around you both. Your hand came up to press against his head.

“Din-“

Your orgasm erupted without warning. He used his hold on your head to press you into the mattress, fucking you through it without relent.

“Yes, keep coming, baby.”

Wave after wave of pleasure had your legs flailing and your back arching. Stars appeared before you. The onset of tears built up behind your eyes.

“I’m not fucking done,” he mumbled.

His free hand began to swirl your clit. You thought you couldn’t scream any louder, yet he proved you wrong.

Your muscles tensed up all over again, that sweet coil threatening to break with each tiny movement.

“You better fucking come again,” he said through gritted teeth, like he was holding himself back.

The combination of thrusting and tight circles on your clit had you coming undone again with ease. Your second release was stronger, your body’s convulsions all the more erratic.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand left your eyes to grip your hips, and you had to fight with yourself to keep from looking at him.

“One. More.”

He pulled you to the edge of the bed and dragged you onto his cock over and over. The new angle was steeper, hitting something deeper inside that you weren’t aware existed.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “Right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

He let out a groan and picked up the speed. You threw your arm over your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer.

His breath was labored, accentuated with deep heaving. He wasn’t going to last much longer, which meant—

“Runnin’ out of time, baby, you better give me one more.”

You squealed with each pulse of contact with your g-spot, but his words made a bead of annoyance interrupt your trance.

No, you thought. You’re not gonna get what you want this time.

You squeezed your muscles, clenching his cock tighter between your walls.

“FUCK,” he shouted. “Feels so good-”

His grunts were too much to bear, each one scratching that sweet spot in your brain that went straight to your pussy, but you had to hold back. He had to break first. You gripped the sheets with your free hand and clenched your jaw, desperate to keep the impending third orgasm down.

His grip on you tightened.

“Oh, fuck you,” he spat.

“You already are, dumbass.”

You didn't recognize the graininess of your own voice. But what came after told you it worked.

He leaned over you and continued the rapid pace, both of you moaning into the air just before coming in a heap of screams and roars.

He buried his head beside yours as he rode out his pleasure, taking yours with it.

He eventually slowed to a stop, standing back up and taking care to pull out the condom with his spend without spilling, just as he did every time.

You heard the plop of it getting thrown in the trash before he leaned over you once more, caging in your frame with his arms.

“Look at me.”

“I haven’t heard the helmet-”

“Look. At me.”

Even through his labored breathing, his voice was unwavering. He put his hands on either side of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his when you did peek your eyes open.

The tiny amount of air that had replenished in your lungs was gone.

He was a vision: skin glowing with sweat, eyebrows scrunched with a crease in the middle, sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose…

… But those fucking brown eyes. They were just downright unfair.

You put your hands over his wrists to keep his hold in place. A glimmer of hope dared to emerge in your head – is he letting you see him because he actually did care? Was there still something in him that loved you?

But then he let out a deep chuckle. Your heart broke all over again.

Why’d I even bother?

“You’ll never get enough, will you?”

You gulped. It always came down to this. But this time, you’d seen the truth.

Not only was this his last playing card, but you had a winning hand.

A confident grin bloomed across your face, the satisfaction already tasting so sweet now that you got to say this directly to his actual face. You’d get to see that smug expression die.

You’d get to finally be the one to let him down.

“Neither can you.”

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

[kyoghurts]

TO PROMISE LIFE. rayne ames

content. fluff. 549 wc. soft & clingy rayne and domestic fluff. (its a perfect combo.)

there are a myriad of things rayne ames is uncertain of. a divine visionary does not equal a god, by all means, he isn't one.

but he listens to his breathing sometimes, aware of his heart knocking against his ribcage, as if calling him, that he is human. and it's saying that he's perfect just the way he is.

it's not until you point these little mundane things out, he swears his life has never been this peaceful before. or rather, you both build a place to shelter amidst the chaos—he leaves them to the shoes by the time he comes home, taking them off and placing it beside yours neatly. he'll wear them again tomorrow, but for now, it will stay there until he has his arms wrapped around your torso, where skin meets skin all warm and familiar. where he would ask if you had done the laundry yet, or if the lamp has been fixed. where he would rest with you and whisper beneath your shared blanket of sweet nothings like a secret.

where he would promise to see you tomorrow, he is no god, dear no he isn't, but something as simple as to gently cradle his life and body after all the bloody work he has done— as simple as breathing, he will do it, and a promise is only to seal it. (a deep kiss doesn't count, although it can be a form of expression, his way of presenting his love when words fail him.)

there’s so much uncertainty in his life—things that should worry him—but it doesn’t.

he begins to understand why, even just by a fraction. it’s when you take him to the beach for his lungs to taste the salty chilly air and let the soles of his feet sink under the sand, feel the slight dampness as he sits next to you, and watch the first light break into the horizon. pastel pink hues smearing across the vast blue that is the sky, and sky kisses the sea with glistening jewels. this is where sky and sea will meet, inseparable, something he cannot distinguish as they blend together.

he puts a small amount of pressure on his fingers where they trace across your palm, his thumb on your wrist, bunny beaded bracelet that matches his. he feels your pulse. the beats singing a song he holds so dear. you’re human, perfect just the way you are.

skin meets skin. like sky meets the sea. he will not worry of things he can’t control.

“this is nice.” he voices out, your head rests against his shoulder.

you hum in agreement, a smile coming into place. “told you so.”

when you look at him and he looks at you. everything is tender, from the kiss in your temple to the arms that envelop you whole and firm and the absolute rarity of him muttering “i love you” against your chest. you could cry from how he says it, like he has so much to give. you could cry from so many things.

you say it back just as quietly. the both of you bathed in the soft light. you allow yourself to sink into his embrace, you believe in the promise of life, together with rayne, two halves as a whole.

notes. @seneon for both of us bc we are so horrendously and sickeningly ill in love with rayne ♡

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[o-sachi]

Dress to Impress Headcanons Pt. 1 - for WinBre Week!

ᯓ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the Wind Breaker characters? ᯓ characters; sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, sugishita kyotaro, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma (more characs in the next part hopefully) ᯓ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be platonic/romantic

[🐟]: for day 8 - side missions prompt! (because dti is a side mission) @windbreakerweek

Sakura Haruka

"How the fuck do I win..."

It will take forever to convince him to play because apparently 'there is no way he's playing dress-up that's made for children' but will fold as soon as you tell him he's just saying that because he hates you.

He keeps forgetting where certain items are and keeps going in circles around the place. That's why he thinks 5 minutes isn't enough.

"Where the fuck are the heels with the pretty pink bows? Man." / "You're going in circles, y'know?" / "Not my fault this shit's a maze."

Pretty standard outfits. Like they're not terrible, but they're not impressive enough to get 4 or 5 stars.

He's more of a simplicity-is-beauty type of guy so that also reflects in the kind of outfits that he makes. But the kids in the server are not having it.

"What does 'ate and served' mean?"

SO SALTY WHEN HE LOSES. But he'll brush it off and pretend that he's cool about it because he is not about to let anyone know he cares about some stupid dress-up game.

Suo Hayato

"Oh, look. I got first place again~"

He was easier to convince. But only if you knew how good he'd be, you wouldn't have asked him to play with you. Why? 'Cuz your morale is plummeting by the second.

He doesn't even need to try. Suo just lets his natural sense of style bleed into the way he plays the game AND HE WINS. He's pretty and so are his outfits.

Suo knows that it's mostly kids playing the game. So when he figures out there are younger people on the server, he'll rate them pretty high to put a smile on their face. (HE'S SO SWEET).

"Suo... it didn't even follow the theme." / "But it's quite nice, don't you think?"

You notice that you rank faster when you duo with him. You've been exploiting this little feature.

"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" / "Huh? Oh, yeah. Haha totally..."

Nirei Akihiko

"OH, this one's good... No, but this one's really good too..."

Nirei is everyone's hypeman: yours, the fashion mavens', the ten year olds who can't follow the theme—literally everyone.

He actually gets better so quickly by observing the outfits of those who win a lot. Like dude is analyzing a whole ass Roblox game. Not that it's intentional—more like it's in his nature.

He falls deep into the DTI rabbit hole. You know because he eagerly waits for updates and hunts for codes on the internet.

"Heyyyy, guess who learned a new code hm?"

His face lights up when you ask him to play... as if he doesn't ask you to play every chance he gets already...

DTI actually becomes his door leading to his descent into the world of Roblox. Seriously, he starts playing more Roblox because you started him with DTI. He also starts asking the other Furin guys to play too.

"Guys, let's do an obby next." / "A what?" / "An obby." / "Again, A WHAT?"

Sugishita Kyotaro

"... I swear I can do better than this..."

This man... this man was even harder to convince compared to Sakura. In fact, you almost gave up. Soooo... you convinced Ume instead (which was easier) and in turn, that forced Sugishita to try it out.

Didn't even ask how it works. He's just reading the text that pops up and goes with the flow.

I'm sorry but... he has the blandest style out of everyone in the main Furin group. Like, he doesn't even try to win AT ALL. But, y'know, A for effort!

"Oh... I have to vote for them?" / "Well, yeah... actually no, just give me 5 stars, okay?"

He plays DTI for a grand total of 3 times, all of which were because Ume asked him to play with the rest of the guys.

He's not much of a gamer to begin with... really, he'd much rather watch you play DTI and see your dramatic reactions to whatever's happening.

Umemiya Hajime

"HAHAHA What's with these silly poses?"

It's like a switch flips in him when he boots up the game and the DTI background song starts playing. He looks waaaaay too happy playing it.

He only started playing because all the hype surrounding it. Ume just wants to be part of the conversation and that's why he tried it out.

Talks way too much in the chat. Usually people just use it to provide more context for their outfits, but Ume actually makes conversation with players there. It's pretty funny to see.

"Look. So many people added me." / "Huh... well ain't that a surprise..."

He almost threw the Ipad out of excitement when he saw that the theme was gardening. He said he had to win or he'd literally die.

A pose 28 spammer, obviously.

"Aw, my game started lagging." / "It's 'cuz you keep spamming poses too fast." / "Dang it."

Hiragi Toma

"I'm not that good at it... okay, maybe just a bit."

He's an old man so bear with him when he tells you that he doesn't even know what a 'Roblox' is. He thought it was a vape flavor by the way.

"So... I have to dress-up and make people vote highly for me?" / "Yeah, it's called Dress to Impress for a reason." / "Oh, yeah. Fair."

He barely tries, but somehow he's kinda good at it? He's not insanely amazing at putting together outfits... but for a guy who's not trying that hard—he's doing pretty well for himself.

But he'll be too embarrassed to admit it. Hiragi would click his tongue and tell you to knock it off once you start complimenting his DTI skills.

He's a bit lost with the Gen Z/Gen Alpha terms, but he's trying to learn—slowly but surely like a little baby lamb learning how to walk.

Will rate you 5 stars no matter what. Everyone else is getting 1 star. Hiragi doesn't care.

"I didn't know you could hit poses here?" / "Yeah, look at this one." / "What the fuck kinda pose is that? Who's doing that on the runway? Bffr." / "Did you just—" / "Told you I'm learning things."

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[avocado-writing]

You said you needed ideas pookie, lucky for you 🎀I have free time to think of nothing but Wolverine and Deadpool🎀

Can I get a Wolverine and Deadpool with a goth s/o! PLZ I AM ON MY KNEES!!!

How they react with a reader who is just a completely other esthetic than them

I feel like Wade would steal things he thinks reader would like and make her try it on infront of him

And Logan would think it's hot because it's something he's not used too

(Good God I want them so bad)

IMPECCABLE TASTE my darling. i'm sorry if i didn't do goths justice i am the most cottagecore bastard there is. minors dni.

Wade who pilfers anything he can get his hands on when he knows you'll look sexy in it. This time, scrap of lace which will be just beautiful around your thigh, swiped from a hook in a lingerie store. Him coming home with a giddy glee, telling you he "got you something you'll love, spooky pookie". Feeling himself harden when you look out at him from purple-shadowed eyes, heavy lashes which bat ingenue-like. Asks you to jump up on the counter so he can slip it on. You extend a leg and he breathes out a long breath to control himself, pulling the black garter up until it fits comfortably just under the plush of your ass. You admire it and smile, pressing a boot into his shoulder.

"You did good, baby. Wanna eat me out as I wear it?"

He thanks whatever goth distribution system god is listening that he has you and dives right in, pushing your black satin panties to the side - can't be bothered to take them off. You wrap your thighs tight around his head as he sloppily kisses your cunt in order to keep him right in place, use his face as you want to. The lace from his gift presses against his cheekbone and he cums in his sweatpants.

Logan who swears up and down that he isn't watching you go about your business but can't take his eyes off your little ruffled skirt. You must know he's obsessed with you because of the way you cross your legs so he can admire them, fishnet stockings which reach your upper thigh, boots with a deadly heel. You prop yourself up opposite him, long decorated nails tapping against your cheek. You could leave pretty nice scratches in his back with those.

"You gonna just keep watching, old man, or come and have a taste?"

His chair is thrown backwards at the speed with which he stands. He's not sure if it's really a challenge or an invitation but either way he isn't backing down. Bends you over the table; hitches your skirt up so he can see the scrap of red lace you call panties, slapping your ass with an open palm which makes you moan and squirm under him. A hand fisted in your dyed hair to keep you in place as he fucks his cock between your cheeks, taking his time with you while the apartment is quiet...

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk

[3d-wifey]

toxic (yandere) baseball player eren and the girl he'd kill for? 👁🫦👁

You Say I'm in Love (I Say You're A Fool)

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x tutor!reader Synopsis: There are many things Eren loves. Word Count: 1.3k Warning: smut, an argument could be made for manipulation, eren is in denial, riding, car sex, overstimulation (reader and eren receiving) A/N: I wrote this in 30 minutes and it shows.

Tag list: @scoven

There are many things Eren loves.

The way his calves burn and lungs heave as he runs from base to base. The resounding cracking noise the bat makes as it hits the baseball. Even the way the infield dirt stains his pants as he slides in to touch the base before a tag out.

But if there's one thing Eren can confidently say he's in love with, it's being between your legs.

It's a known fact that Eren isn't looking for a relationship. He's far too focused on getting scouted. His brother is in the major leagues, after all. So renowned that he has a pitch named after him. It only makes sense that he'd follow in his footsteps.

So, despite the dozens of girls who throw themselves at him and crowd the stands at every game just to get a glimpse of him, he isn't looking for anything serious.

And that fact doesn't change when he starts failing a few classes and his coach makes him take up tutoring with you, his daughter.

It doesn't change the first time he fingers you in his jeep as he drives you to your dorm. It doesn't change whenever he makes you read from a textbook as he eats you out under one of the rickety library tables.

It definitely doesn't change whenever he drags you to the dugout after practice and fucks you so hard that an imprint of the gates is left against your cheek. But you don't mind. His good girl, always so eager to please him.

But when did you become his?

Maybe it was when he warned all his teammates that you were off limits and told them in no uncertain terms that he'd break their fucking fingers they'd have to deal with him if he saw any of them sniffing around you. Or when he didn't see you in the crowd cheering him on at one of his games, and he found himself sending you a few concerned texts.

Ren💚: r u comin?

Ren💚: hello??????

Ren💚: did something happen?

Ren💚: y aren't u answering ur phone???

Ren💚: where the fuck are u?

Ren💚: r u with some1?

Ren💚: I swear to God I'll kill them.

Ren💚: You have till the second inning to be in the stands before I come to you.

Turns out you just overslept with your phone on silent.

Regardless, it's becoming a problem. He can't even get off to porn unless the girl looks like you and even that stops working after a while. Sleeping with anyone else is out of the question. So maybe he has to resort to scrolling through your Instagram when he finds himself in need of inspiration.

Eren's room is pitch black other than the bright light from his phone reflecting off his bare chest. His left-hand holds his phone as he scrolls your page from a burner account while his right hand palms his dick through his sweat pants.

His breath hitches as he stumbles upon the perfect post. It's from last summer when you and your family went to the beach. You were clad in a baby blue bathing suit with little white clouds. He's quick to push his sweatpants down his thighs and take himself in hand.

You had just gotten out of the ocean when you had someone take the photo for you. His pace speeds up as his eyes trace the salty drops of water that dripped down your skin, dipping between your cleavage and between your thighs. He imagines what it would be like to fuck you in that cute, little swimsuit, pushing the crotch of your bottoms aside to go down on you and his hips buck into his hand.

He swipes to the next picture of the set, you on your hands and knees, presumably, playing in the sand as you smile up at the camera, and Eren feels his orgasm ripping through him.

All things considered, his problem with you could be worse.

At least that's what he thinks until he realizes you're eager to please everyone, not just him. Always happy to help, always jumping at the opportunity to be praised, and under normal circumstances, maybe Eren would find it cute or funny, but now it's just fucking annoying.

The team is up for an away game against their rivals and your schedule has finally opened up enough to hang out with Eren after his game. Both of you had been pretty busy, you with midterms and him with practice. He'd never admit this to anyone but you even with a gun to his head, but he's been missing you more than he's missed anything in his entire life. So when you tell him you have to cancel because Jean apparently told your dad he needed some tutoring, he's rightfully pissed off.

Not at you, of course. You're practically in tears when you tell him. It's obvious you don't want to do this, which only fuels his anger.

That piece of shit. Jean is the last fucking person to need help with his homework. Hell, he graduated salutatorian in high school—second only to Armin.

This isn't about grades. He's doing this shit to get under his skin. Is he really this desperate for Eren's sloppy seconds?

He can't stop you from going, but he can send you off with a message.

He has fifteen minutes before he needs to be in the locker room, but you showed up wearing one of his old jerseys and he's already half-hard at the idea of you being in the stands cheering him on with 'Jaeger' printed on your back in big, bold, white letters. Making it known to everyone who you belong to.

And Jean overstepping his bounds pisses him the fuck off. Two birds, one stone. Besides, he doesn't need to be there when the team goes over the play, he's the one who made it.

His pants are pulled down to his thighs and you're bare from the waist down, wearing nothing but his jersey. He grips your hips tight, fucking little gasps out of you. One of your hands claps his shoulder while the other holds the car handle for dear life. Your cheeks are wet, almost as wet as you've made his lap.

He's overstimulated you both, a ring of white, frothy cum grows at the base of his shaft with each downward swing of your hips. That painful pleasure tightens his balls every time your sensitive walls spasm around his equally sensitive cock.

"E-Eren, I—fuck, fuck, fuck, ahhh—” You cut yourself off with a moan that slithers around his spine, pushing him to go faster, harder, deeper. This position is perfect, you're practically boneless over him as the head of his dick punches your g-spot.

"One more, baby. Just, hah, give me one more." And you nod your head from where you're crying into his neck. You leave his skin wet with tears and spit as you bite at him to muffle yourself. He doesn't have the heart to tell you each twinging bite is only making him harder, the grind of your canines that'll surely leave blotches and maybe even thin pricks of blood only makes him feel like he could fuck you for hours—days even! It feels too good, your pussy is too good to leave alone. A fact that Jean will never know.

"Mhm, okay, Ren." Despite your fatigue, your hips shift towards him, rutting your clit against his happy trail like you can't help yourself. "One more. One, uh, uh, uh, more for you." You agree, pulling his hair out of its messy bun in your haze. His good girl, not even thinking about the fact that he asked for one more the last three times, you're too full of his dick to think for yourself now. He would have cooed at you if it weren't for the tears blurring his own vision, toes curling in his shoes. By the time he finishes, you'll be full of his cum too. The game be damned.

After all, Eren Jaeger isn't known for his impulse control.

[siren-serenity]

my favorite shade of blue

characters: buggy the clown, gn!reader warnings: fluff, slight swearing a/n: - OMFG BUGGY??? BUGGY????? *sob, scream, drool* - babes let's admit it, buggy is so touch starved. he seems like the guy who would LOVE physical touch - feedback is appreciated!

"Y/N!"

It was so blissfully silent until your captain's sharp, loud call of your name broke you out of your light slumber. Your (e/c) eyes snapped wide open, scanning the seas around you for danger before realizing it's just Buggy being Buggy again.

"Y/N, get your ass here now!"

Grumbling, you stood up, cracking your stiff back. The salty stench of the sea invaded your senses and you took in a deep, calming breath. Your hand grasped onto the rough texture of rope and you slowly made your way down from the crowbar. The make-shift ladder kept swaying with your movements but you were confident that you wouldn't fall.

"Captain's calling for ya again?" Cabaji cycled past you. His lime green and black hair stood out from the brown wood of the ship. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Ooh, I wonder what he wants!"

You scoff, pushing your friend aside playfully.

"At least he isn't up to his shenanigans again," You said, laughing. "Wanna juggling knives on fire, Cabaji?"

He shivered at the reminder.

"Hell no!"

You nod, as if to say 'exactly', before bidding him goodbye. Your boots thumped against the wooden floors as you made your way through the ship before finally coming across the door labeled crudely 'cApTaIn'.

"Buggy?" You knock gently and an excited call of your name responds in kind. The door is flung open, revealing the love of your life, Buggy. His orange captain hat is off and he's wearing his signature red-and-white striped bandana. Baby blue eyes glimmered with happiness as he glomped you.

"OOMPH-"

"Love!" He buried himself in your shoulder. His cerulean tresses tickle you slightly and you're biting your lip to prevent giggles from bursting out of you. "Missed you...."

Your hands slipped under his thighs before you hoisted them up. Yelping, Buggy's legs were quick to trap you in a hug around your waist and his arms held onto your shoulders like a vice. You popped a quick kiss onto his scarlet-smeared lips, smiling because a bit of the lipstick had transferred onto your lips.

"Missed me, hmm?" You walked to your and his shared bed, laying him down gently. Buggy let go of you from his hands, spreading them wide on the bed while his legs remained wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. You leaned in even more, smiling.

"Yeah," He gave you a small smile. "We haven't been hanging out in a while..."

You laughed. Your hands tried to pull his legs off your waist but Buggy let out a small noise in alarm, ankles digging into your back.

Buggy whined.

"Noo...don't go!"

You booped his nose. His baby blue eyes widened.

"I'm just going to grab a brush," You looped a lock of cerulean hand around your finger, emphasizing the number of tangles and the messiness. "It's been a while since I brushed your hair, no?"

He hummed and slowly let you go. Reaching to the side, you grabbed the self-care bag. You tapped his butt to make him scooch slightly so you could sit on the bed.

"N-Not the butt!" Buggy yelped at the sudden touch and you laughed at the visible blush beneath his fading makeup. Your hands gently cradled his face and he froze.

You showed him the wet wipe in your hands.

"I'm just going to wipe the make up off, okay, Bugs?"

He nodded, looking into your eyes.

"Okay..."

You pressed a kiss to his red nose before gently wiping off the white. Each of your every movement was gentle and kind, not as aggressive as Buggy would have done to himself.

Once the make-up was off, you reached up to pull off the bandana; Buggy leaned forward to make the process easier for you. The moment the red-and-white fabric was off, his cerulean tresses fell like mesmerizing ocean waves.

"I'll never get tired of your hair," You took a lock and pressed a kiss to the hair.

Buggy laughed.

"Only you would say that," He hummed, turning around so you could brush his hair easier.

You frowned.

"I'm serious, Buggy," You began combing his hair, apologizing when the brush would get caught in tangles. "Your hair brings out the blue in your irises and stands out against the white of your face make-up."

"You think so?"

Buggy's voice was quiet, a murmur only.

You tapped his shoulder and he spun around. His eyes widened as you captured his now-bare lips into a kiss and he visibly melted in your embrace.

"Mmph~"

You pulled away, giving him a loving grin.

"It's my favorite shade of blue."

Buggy buried his blushing face in his gloved hands but you could still see traces of bright red on his cheeks.

[lukesandromeda]

dreamscape - l. castellan

content: angst, i think swearing, pjo show references

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of hypnos!reader

the familiar feeling of sleep finally comes over you, and you're brought into that peaceful bliss you and your siblings know all too well

for children of hypnos, sleeping isn't sleeping. it's your transfer to a more peaceful part of your day. when a child of hypnos goes to sleep, they are brought into a dreamscape that reflects their mood. they live there for those many hours until they wake up.

you open your eyes to the realm you know as your own. it's a beach. before everything had happened, it was a peaceful shore with placid waves, but now, it is a storm crackling in the sky and high tides attacking the water.

you take a shaky breath, stepping onto the sand, the way you do every night. picking your eyes up from where your feet touch the sand, you stop in your tracks when you spot a figure in the distance, standing a few yards away from where the waves pound onto the rocks. a figure you know better than the back of your hand.

a man. a man clothed in business attire—his hair neatly combed. these were the two qualities that made him slightly different from how you remember him.

you remembered him as the angry yet still gentle boy in that same orange camp shirt. eventually, you remembered him as the boy who betrayed you. your friends. the entire camp. the man who joined kronos-the man who sabotaged the gods and left you with nothing but the remnants of his love-memories. good and bad.

he left last year quickly after an attack on percy jackson, a young boy you'd helped luke show around camp when he'd first arrived.

you remember the way you'd laughed when percy first told you what had happened; you didn't believe it. thought it was some sick joke. but here you were, over three hundred and sixty-five days after he left you, seeing him in your dreamscape.

this shouldn't be possible. he's obviously dreaming. you can comprehend that from the way his body is slightly transparent. but how is he dreaming of this place? the only way he could dream of it—

is if he's thinking of you.

you curse yourself. you curse hypnos for letting luke castellan in this dreamscape. you know your father has to approve of entrance of an entity that is not of descent of hypnos. you know he allowed him to enter. you don't know why, but it's the only way possible.

you take a shaky deep breath before picking your feet up, carrying yourself along the sand and closer to luke. he's standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking out at the waters. the crashing, angry, messy waters that reflect your state of mind-angry, messy... at least, ever since he left.

you finally stop next to him, putting enough distance in between the two of you. you stare out at those waters. crazy. like you-for walking up to luke castellan and standing next to him with such serenity.

with force, you open your mouth and push out the simple name, "luke."

turning your head to him, you realize luke is squeezing his eyes. he doesn't seem surprised that you're here. he shakes his head. "y/n."

you click your tongue, shaking the monotonous reaction off of your mind. "what are you doing here?"

he shrugs, staring out at the pounding waves. the wind stirs his dark curls, the chill of it carrying the salty water landing against his face, turning it pink. he moistens his lips. "waiting."

"for?"

your eyes bore into his that are still turned toward the ocean. his lip twists into a small, sad smile, and he just shrugs again. "you."

"oh." you nervously take your camp necklace up into your hands, twirling the string and sliding the beads in between your fingers.

he inhales sharply, finally turning to you. his breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, and then he reaches out toward you.

instinctively, you back away, afraid to let him in, afraid to trust. he purses his lips after freezing, and then he lowers his hand. "right."

you sigh, dropping your necklace back to hang loosely where it belongs. "m sorry, i just... i... i can't.

"i know."

luke turns his head slowly back to the shore, eyes trailing along the skyline as a bird flies by. rain trickles down his proud cheekbones. he parts his lips, licking them and letting the rain in. he closes his mouth, tasting the salt on his tongue and then opens it again. "tastes familiar."

in a dreamscape, the rain is your tears-the same tears luke used to kiss away and playfully lick at when you cried in his arms. you clench your jaw and turn back to the water, frowning when he steps closer to you again.

"you shouldn't be here," you say finally, closing the gap of exchanged words that rested along with the sound of the beating rain.

"yeah, i know," he bites his cheek, the same way he used to when he was trying to stay serious— trying not to smile and give into your antics when you teased him. "didn't think you'd be here."

"this place is my mind. i'm always here."

"usually your mind is on camp. the dreamscape would represent camp. your friends. it would represent your friends. but it's on yourself. how you feel about yourself. how... i made you feel. so you're here. and i didn't expect that."

"i didn't expect you to be here either."

he laughs. it's a hollow laugh, one that you can tell he forces out, but you know he's doing it to lighten the mood. to make you comfortable.

"I'm always here. just...thinking about you."

"you said you were waiting for me," you state.

"what did you mean?"

"exactly what i said," he replies quickly. "i knew you'd have to come eventually. i knew id see you again."

you stay quiet. you know he's right. you also knew eventually he'd get to you, maim your confidence and self love. the same self love he declared you should have, because he didn't

"understand how someone could hate you."

"i should go," you whisper finally: the words you've been trying to get out of your mouth, the ones that sat at the tip of your tongue like feet stuck to the ground of asphodel. "i should-"

"you should stay," he declares firmly. moments pass until you turn to him and stare at the dark brown orbs in his eyes, now seen through tears. he's looking at you like you're his lost dog that he's been looking everywhere for, because to him, you were. in a small voice, he says, "i miss you."

you scoff, forcing a sarcastic smile to grace your lips, even though there's nothing in you that wants to smile, even if it is sarcastic. "you left."

you hear the sand next to you get kicked, and he's grumbling. "i know. but you know why. i had to."

"you had to betray your friends and family? you had to betray me? your girlfriend? that's not how it works, luke. you know damn well."

luke huffs, looking up at the sky, the rain kissing his forehead as he does so. "maybe not for you. but for me, it's eat or be eaten. power and glory and nothing else matters. i can't ignore that."

"power and glory? really? that's all that matters?" you try to say it with solid anger and firmness in your voice, but it comes out shaky and hurt. "was it always that way? did i ever matter to you?"

"of course you mattered!" he turns to you as if he can't believe what you're saying. "you matter. more than... more than anything. you are glory. that's why it matters to me. you are glory. and i don't care if i'm the first foolish halfblood to say it, but i don't care for glory if it means that you're not the definition."

you bite your lip, trying to remind yourself that this is the enemy. this is luke. but this is your luke.

"why'd you leave, then?"

he rolls his eyes; you already brought this up. "i want to protect you. give you the life you deserve. you don't deserve one where you're controlled by the gods. where you have to constantly obey them on hand and foot. you're not their dog. i want to be sure of that."

"you left me. why couldn't you have at least taken me with you?"

"why would i purposefully put you in danger like that? with me, everyone on the other side has no instructions whether to kill you or not. but if you're there at camp, you're off limits. i already told my army they are not to lay a finger on you. you're safer without me."

"no i'm not! i can't take this. if someone doesn't kill me first, i'm going to kill myself"

"y/n, please stop yelling."

you inhale sharply, and exhale sharply. in and out. like the way luke taught you to when you had those panic attacks during the night and somehow even your powers couldn't get you past nightmares. "i really need to go."

"i need you," he whispers. he holds out his arms, as if for a hug, and he begs, "i need to hold you."

"no!" you say quickly. "that's not... that's not fair. because you can wake up and know this was only a dream, and possibly forget it. but i have to live with this. this is real for me. i'm not asleep right now. i feel everything."

"i do, too," he groans. "you taught me how to become lucid, remember?"

twisting your spit between your teeth, your tongue, you weave a sigh through them and groan. "you don't get to hug me. not when i hoped every night that you'd come back and do it in person. in real life. prayed to every god alive, even your father, that you'd tell me it was all some sick joke and you'd be good again."

"i'm so lonely," he cries, and for the first time you realize that the water pouring down your cheeks aren't only the drops of rain. also his tears. "i need to hold you. let me hold you, y/n."

"you don't deserve that. you don't get to."

"one last time. you won't see me here ever again. just let me hold you. i need to... i need to remember what it feels like."

your lips twist and curl into all shapes of a different frown, and you wipe the now forming tears on your face that mirror the ones on luke's.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers. he's staring into your eyes, and the eye contact feels lethal. this is the man your camp trains you to fight, trains you to kill when you have the chance. but here you are, staring deep into his eyes as you inch closer and closer to him—

how did you get here?

you realize you're wrapped in his arms. his arms are tied taut around your waist and he's gripping on your pajama shirt like it's the only thing holding him from falling into tartarus. he's whispering, i'm sorry's, and i love you's, and you find yourself sobbing into his neck, too. he sighs, pulling away and trailing kisses down your jaw.

trembling fingers are raking through his hair, and you get the same feeling you used to when you'd twirl his curls and lather conditioner into his it in the shower. the rain is pouring down onto the two of you like that same shower water, and you're holding each other and in love, and suddenly you're one year younger and you're luke's girl, and luke is your boy.

"i love you, i'm so, so sorry. wanna go back and fix it. 's too late. i can't take this. 'm so lonely. i miss you so much." luke is rambling and rambling into your hair. he's pulling it a little bit as his hands squeeze and trail up and down your back and he captures a bit of it with his hands.

"i know," you whisper. you can't forgive him right now. but you can hold him.

[lovers-rck]

summary where you and ellie go to a halloween party and end up in a tiny bathroom with an angel and a sick bunny.

theme friends with benefits

hiiiii this is my comeback to writing. i swear. or not. i don't know. im just happy to be back at this !! anyways enjoy

i don't know why but while writing this i pictured the saltburn costume kind of party (just the aesthetic)

☆

it all started like a month ago, in the halloween party.

"is this okay?" she asks, her hands caressing slightly your breasts over the fabric

you chuckle, embarrassed "yes" you see how ellie's face is covered in a blue and violet light "you can take my band if you want"

"sure" she murmurs, her hands grabbing the "prom queen" band and throwing it off to the floor.

the cold tiles of the wall meet your back, the sudden change of temperature making you shiver. handmade costumes dance on the dance floor, fake blood and poor imitations are present in the night.

upstairs, in a tiny and so-well-decorated bathroom you can hear your own breath get heavier as you feel ellie's fingertips play with your covered breast. she leaves wet kisses in your neck, shy but hungry.

ellie can't decide which was the moment when she realized that something was about to happen. later in the week she would think, ¿was when she catch you looking at her lips? ¿or when you "accidentally" touched her ass while dancing to ABBA? and she would think and think so much that her brain will start deteriorating.

but what she knows now is that she is having the time of her life.

"you have such nice tits" ellie's mouth says before she could stop herself

you laugh, a fake spider web in the wall tickling your face "thanks"

ellie nods and lick your neck, her tongue tasting your salty and perfumed skin. you whimper as she continues assaulting your skin, sucking and kissing and sucking again.

your hand grab her head while you think of for how long you been ignorant of your friend's mouth and her abilities.

your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror, a very stylish spiderman suit and a bloody carrie making out in the tiniest bathroom of all times.

"i think i gave you a hickey" ellie says, a thread of saliva dangling as she moves away, her lips shiny "i can't really see with these lights"

"i'm glad you're so committed to your spider costume that you have to bite me" you joke and she rolls her eyes

"i'm spiderman, not a simple spider you idiot"

you roll your eyes at her. it pass a few seconds until you talk again "do you think it will be weird if i kiss you?"

"don't think so" she says, placing the hair behind her ear "no weirder than giving you a hickey"

"yeah but isn't kissing more intimate?"

"only if you make it more intimate" ellie says as she fix your plastic crown "a lot of friends kiss eachothers"

"yeah?"

she nods

"it's just a kiss" she replies "it doesn't have to mean anything"

you nod "right" you lick your own lips "we can be that type of friends"

"yeah, totally" ellie swallows "we can"

so you kiss her. and it's feels warm and wet.

ellie grabs you by the jaw quickly, taking the power. her grip is strong and the moment you moan in her mouth you want to punch yourself in the face.

"you were dying for me to kiss you huh?" she teases you, her breath hits your wet lips as she speaks

you could feel her confident starting to grow "in your dreams"

"i do other things to you in my dreams"

before you could react, ellie's lips are over yours again. your agitated breath echo in between hungry kisses, floating around the curious hands and hot skin.

but when ellie's hands are in the hem of your shirt, you hear a loud knock on the door.

"i"ll be out in a minute" you shout and push ellie away. she lean back against the sink, agitated.

"she's about to throw up!" a girl yells from the other side of the door "open up now!"

you grimace at ellie and she opens the door.

a plastic feathered angel and a playboy bunny quickly interrupt in the bathroom at the same time as the bunny vomits an almost neon green liquid over the toilet.

"let it all out" the angel says to the bunny "i told you you shouldn't accept tyler's drink from fight club"

ellie raises her eyebrows as she admires the scene, you notice how her lips are swollen and her hair is messy.

"are you going to stand there and watch?" the angel says as she holds the bunny's hair "it's not a fucking show"

"jesus" you say

"uh, sorry" ellie mumbles, awkward "goodbye"

the angel's words of encouragement to her bunny-friend become meaningless once you and ellie leave the bathroom. the loud music hits you one more time as you come back to the dance floor where sweaty bodies glow under the neon lights.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Being best friends with jennifer check and one day she suggests you practice kissing on each other "just for fun" until you slowly realize you're falling in love 💓💓

this is the kind of Jen content we need more of honestly 💖

Practice Makes Perfect (Jennifer Check x reader)

Warnings: (almost) friends to lovers, kissing (duh), swearing/salty language, slightly suggestive, could be seen as coersion as reader isn't entirely sure to kissing at first

Jennifer had invited you over to her house for what was supposed to be a study session, but it ended up being more of a hang out than anything else. The two of you were lounging on her bed, Ayesha Erotica playing faintly on her MP3 player in the background.

You were just about to ask if she could change the music to something less vulgar when she dropped a major bomb on you.

"We should kiss," she suggested in a way that was much too casual for your liking as she filed her pristine nails, not even bothering to look up. "You know, for practice. In case either of us meets someone and we need to know how."

You choked on the soda you were drinking, which led to a good two or three minute coughing fit before you were finally able to respond. "What?" You asked incredulously, a look of shock evident on your face.

"I said," she began with an eye roll, speaking slow and condescendingly. "We. Should. Kiss. What's the matter, scared you might like it?" She taunted with a smirk.

You scoffed at her question as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Truth be told, you were a little afraid of liking it, but more than that you were worried about her making fun of you for being inexperienced.

"No, that's not it. I just- I wouldn't want to ruin your lipgloss, is all." A lame excuse, even by your standards, and one that she could surely see through, but it was better than nothing.

It was now her turn to scoff at you. "Oh, please. Don't be such a pussy." She moved over to where you were sitting on the bed, reaching her arms out to wrap around your neck before you could stop her.

"Wha- you-" You tried to speak, but your words got caught in your throat. It didn't help that the close proximity was making it damn near impossible for you to think straight.

"Are you telling me that you don't want to kiss me at all? Not even in the slightest?" She asked in a tone full of false offense and hurt, sticking her bottom lip out as she pouted at you.

"N- No, that's not- that's not what I'm saying, Jen..." your voice trailed off as she leaned in close, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils.

"Then kiss me." She said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, doing her best to look as innocent as possible. "Please?"

Your resolve weakened and you finally nodded your head before closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to hers. She tasted like her strawberry lipgloss and felt like a dream come true.

She pulled you down on top of her on the bed as you kissed, but you barely noticed. Until you heard her let out a soft moan, that is.

You quickly shot back up, feeling your face grow warm as you realized what just happened. Jennifer merely giggled as she looked up at you from where she was still laying down, her legs spread slightly.

"Oh, come on. Don't leave me hanging," she teased as you shuffled away from her, going to sit on the opposite end of the bed. She sat up and slowly crawled over to you, smirking before giving you another kiss.

"We should do this more often," she murmured suggestively, her lips still close to yours. "After all, practice makes perfect."

You didn't say anything in response, instead choosing just to kiss her again. After all, what do you say to your best friend when you realize you might be falling in love with her after one stupid kiss?

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[spacesapphi]

HES Trio Headcanons (the third)

That's right guys, another one (my brain is rotted). These three live in my head rent free

some the Shane ones are sad again, sorry

Elliott

-had a pet hermit crab as a kid, he's always been a friend of the crabs!

- prefers fancy, decorative candles to scented ones. The prettier the better!

- trying his best to make his room look like Howls from Howls Moving Castle. That clutter of beautiful trinkets is exactly what he wants for a setup

- loves wearing his hair in braids, but is terrible at doing braids on himself. He usually asks Leah

- Willy is like a father to him. His bio father was not a kind man, and Willy is everything he wished his father could be and more

- Willy taught him how to fish too, and he's actually pretty good at it!

- very into a "method acting" style of writing, as in he'll live like a character he's trying to write for a while until he feels like he can realistically interpret them in his writing

- faked a British accent for about a month in middle school because he thought it sounded very sophisticated and artsy

Harvey

- won't tell anyone, but he enjoys little Saturday morning cartoons now and then. It reminds him of the moments of joy he felt when he was little and he cherishes that

- tried to shave off his mustache once and seeing how he looked without it scared him so bad he vowed not to do it again. It looks so bad 😭💔

- wears that Ebenezer scrooge lookin nightgown and cap unironically, swears that it helps him sleep better

- lactose intolerant and has a gluten allergy. He doesn't like cheese and baked goods because of it, they make him really sick

- that being said, if u made/bought him gluten free stuff he would act like he owes his life to you

- once he was at the library at the same time Penny was tutoring the kids. It was during free reading time and Vincent told him he looked like a character in the book he was reading. It was Geronimo Stilton. Harvey has still not recovered from that

- really wanted siblings as a little kid but never had them, so he created an imaginary friend for himself and pretended to go on aviation missions with them

- has a lil gap between his front teeth, he gets a bit shy about it, but it's cute when he smiles and you can see it

Shane

- I changed my height headcanon, bro is 5'3 now

- his ENTIRE family is very short, his mom and Marnie are 5'0. Jas' parents were tall though so once she's older she's absolutely towering over Marnie and Shane

- had very long hair before taking in Jas. For many reasons, especially maintenance, he's kept it short since adopting her

- Him stealing food from Joja is a habit built from necessity, from the time before he moved back in with Marnie. He got to the point financially that he was often stealing food for him and Jas, because he was often forced to choose between groceries and paying rent.

- he's not a vegetarian, but he refuses to eat chicken specifically. Everytime he tries, he just can't bring himself to do it. He loves chickens too much

- even then, he still ate very little. Stealing was risky and he wanted to make sure Jas was given what she needed first. He always had her eat first, and would eat whatever she didn't, like crusts or veggies she didn't like. The night he moved back in with Marnie was the first time he had an actual meal in about a year

- After he starts recovery, he tries to be better friends with Penny given that she's Jas' teacher. She isn't very interested in being close with him, but he still tries to be friendly

- has an arsenal of dad jokes at the ready at any given moment, you are not prepared for how corny this man gets

- forever salty that LEWIS of all people is beating him on the junimo kart leaderboards

- He and Sam have a workplace besties kinda relationship. They still stay pretty good friends after Joja closes, Shane goes to all of his bands shows to show support

- the only festivals he really cares about are the egg festival, luau and Stardew valley fair. The rest he'll go to because it makes Jas and Marnie happy, but those three he has a passion for

[heartfullofleeches]

Fuck, now all I can think of is Amyas with creep reader who literally tries to suffocate his in their tits

[changed it a bit because thighs are peak don't @ me]

"Pleeeeease, Y/n? Oh, please just one - I'll leave you alone for the rest of the weekor at least two days - I swear!"

Brat - Being forced with this feathered pain made you a lot more welcoming of your potential fate strolling past the gates of hell. The delusional cupid had been trying for quite some time to open your eyes to the wonders of true love and holy matrimony. Considering any partner would likely end up in a body bag before the topic of marriage came to light, you passed hard on the offer, but he moved himself right into your home and bed before you could say no. Amyas knew for a damaged soul like yourself there was no better fit than the embodiment of love like himself. You slowly began to accept his presents after witnessing him brandish an arrow on a gossiping neighbor, and since most days he kept to himself as he cooked and kept a tidy house.

Keyword being most.

Amyas hugs your leg as he wails. There were times when he simply couldn't handle the lack of physical affection when your body looked so cuddly and he wanted nothing more than to smooch your ever so kissable face all over. "I'll stop sneaking into your bed while you're asleep and stealing your keys when you leave. I just need one hug, please."

You shift in your seat, lifting your free leg onto the couch. "Just one?..."

Amyas nods weakly, the drooping feathers of his slightly perked. "Mhm...."

Well, if one's all he needs - it's best to make it one he'll never forget.

Swinging your leg over his shoulder, your heel drives into the blade - pinning his left wing to his back. The assault on his sensitive nerves causes him to release his hold on you, allowing you to bring the other leg over as you lock them both around his neck. He smiles bashful,briefly -the soft blue hues of his big eyes shrink to pinpoints as you squeeze, staring down at him unamused.

Amyas paws at your thigh, avoiding clawing into them as he wheezes. "T...too... tight....can't..."

"Good." You squeeze harder, inadvertently pulling him closer to your crotch as his nose brushes against your stomach. The plush of your thighs fully cushions his flushed cheeks, ragged gasps and the drool frothing from his pale lips bleeding through the material of your bottoms. Amyas pours what's remains of his willpower into keeping his tongue in his mouth as he salivates at the idea of tasting your skin seasoned with his salty tears. You cock your head to one side as they run.

"This is what you wanted - isn't it?"

"a.....ah...." Amyas' hands shoot between his legs, pulling his skirt down over anh unwanted sights as his eyes roll back and his lips crack with a a smile of pure euphoria and toxication. His creator was good. His creator was merciful.

All for the little fact Angels didn't need air to survive.

[honorarysimp]

Chapter 4: Strangers in the Night

series masterlist

The Northern Edge: 1 Mile into Canadian Waters

The salty breeze of the sea blew over the deck of the sea-worn vessel, carrying with it the smell of salt water, fish, and hard labor.

The crew of the sea-vessel scurry about the deck, hauling ropes and supplies, calling to eachother as the ship rocks on the choppy waters of the open sea.

The waves splashed against the sides of the boat, spraying the salty water on the crew, causing a few of them to swear and grumble as they were spattered.

The crew haul up another load of scallops, the net on the end of the rope heaving as it was pulled up. Once the scallop-filled net was on the deck, Nunes rushes over to pull the release lever, dropping its load of scallops across the deck.

Shells covered the wooden deck in a sea of white foam, Skeemo cursing as he accidentally stumbles and kicks shells across the deck with his boots.

“I don’t know guys, I think she really likes me” Charlie continues to argue his case, tugging his gloves more securely on to his hands as the other two men begin shoveling the scallops into buckets.

“You’re delusional, my friend, black label doesn’t like anyone in the way you’re dreaming up” Skeemo says as he shoots Charlie a smirk, which he only rolls his eyes to in response as he joins them on scooping up the scallops off the deck floor.

“You’re better off focusing on choosing between law school and being a deckhand, Charlie” Costa can be heard chiming in as he crosses the deck to head into the Captain’s quarters, most likely to rejoin Tom in discussing their next spot to hit.

“What? You don’t think I have a chance?”

“You have to be lucky to have a chance with Mabel, that’s all I’m gonna say” Nunes adds in which only makes Skeemo bellow with laughter, sharing a fist bump like they have an inside joke Charlie is clearly missing.

He straightens up, a confused boyish smile on his face, “I don’t know I think I’m lucky, I mean she drove like a goddamn NASCAR driver to get me to the dock in time”.

“Finest kind” Nunes shouts in agreement, thumping his fist to his chest and pointing it over at Charlie, making his smile widen.

Skeemo shrugs, “look all we’re saying is you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble with that, Mabel is as good as they come but…”

Nunes gives him a look, subtly shaking his head. Charlie catches this and almost asks what it is they know and he doesn’t.

But then Tom is yelling from the Captain’s quarters, telling them to get a move on, how they don’t have all day.

The crew rushes to finish clearing the deck of scallop shells as quickly as possible, kicking the shells to the side of the ship and tossing the rotten ones overboard. They work with practiced efficiency, moving quickly to clear the deck and readying the net for another drop.

As they go about working, Charlie finds himself thinking over the conversation with the guys, and how their choice of words as well as their aloofness to the situation made him feel some type of way.

Charlie didn’t know it then, but lucky won’t be a stroke of fate in his favor, it would be a person.

____________________________________________

Despite knowing you should just leave it be, you find yourself on your way to Mabel’s place, a need to apologize burning deep in your chest.

You’d tossed and turned all night, your mind replaying your last conversation with Mabel over and over again. The words left unsaid, the tension between you, all of it swims through your head and keeping you restlessly wired.

That, and you couldn’t get comfortable, it’s like trying to lay with pins and needles. Everything fucking hurts.

The words and the tension between you two keep replaying in your head like a broken record, keeping you from finding any sort of peace.

It's early morning now and you find yourself on your way to her place, driven by a need to apologize, to bridge the gap that has grown between you. Lack of sleep isn't the only thing you blame for this unexpected visit - there's a heavy guilt gnawing at you.

You have no problem admitting on your own when you’re in the wrong, however, you do tend to do the exact opposite whenever you’re being called out.

You pull up outside her place, your heart pounding in your chest. A whirlwind of emotions threatens to drown you - guilt, regret, worry. You know deep down that you shouldn't be here this early, that she will definitely be angry with you for showing up unannounced at the crack of dawn. But the pull to see her, to apologize, to fix things, is stronger than your logical thinking.

Just as you cut the engine, your heart sinks as you hear the front door slams against the wall, the sound jolting you from your thoughts and pulling your gaze.

And then your stomach drops as you realize it’s Charlie, his expression twisted and his eyes rimmed, as if he hasn’t slept at all. His gaze then finds your car, and in that moment all thoughts of apologizing to Mabel vanish, replaced by a deep sense of dread.

“Shit” you mutter, tugging at the doorhandle and being quick about slipping out of the vehicle. You’d rather him take it out on you than your car.

You walk around the hood of your car, raising your hands in an attempt to calm him. "Charlie," you call out, your heart pounding in your chest “come on man take it easy we can talk about whatever this is-“

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER! This is YOUR fault!” he roars, now barreling towards you with vendetta.

A second later, you spot Mabel bursting out of her apartment, her face filled with confusion and worry at the sound of shouting. She stops at the sight of the two of you, her eyes darting between you and Charlie.

Just as Charlie swings at you, Mabel yells "Charlie, stop!", her voice echoes through the early morning air, laced with concern and a hint of anger.

Even busted up, you manage to sidestep his punch effortlessly, years of experience kicking in. You grab his arm and twist it behind his back, pinning him face down against the hood of your car with a firm grip.

You lean in close to him, your voice firm but calm as you say, "Charlie, I need you to chill the fuck out. I'm not trying to hurt you, but don’t think I won’t." You keep him in place, your grip unyielding despite his attempts to break free.

“LET ME GO, YOU PSYCHO!” You can feel the tension coursing through his body, the coiled energy of a fight or flight response, but you remain calm, your attention focused on keeping him still.

Mabel steps in, her voice raised in anger as she roughly pulls you away from Charlie. "What the hell is wrong with you two?" she scolds, pushing you back, eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disappointment. "You're attracting attention and acting like idiots!"

As you're pulled away from Charlie, he instantly stands upright, rubbing at his twisted arm with a sullen expression. He pins you with a glare over Mabel’s shoulder, and it makes something that taunts the line between possessive and protective stir within you.

You start to open your mouth to protest that he started it but Mabel cuts you off before you can say anything. “I don’t care what bullshit you have to say!” she says, her voice raised and authoritative. “I don’t care who threw the first punch. You’re both acting like fucking idiots right now! Why are you even here, in the first place?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words catch in your throat. You weren't expecting this confrontation, and the intensity of her questions has you uncharacteristically taken aback. "I..." you start, searching for the right words as you wet your lips.

"I came here to talk to you."

Charlie can't help but scoff in disbelief, throwing his arms up in the air and shaking his head at you. "This is exactly what I was talking about, Mabel!" he exclaims, his voice sharp and angry. "Lucky just shows up at your place, like it's not a big deal! This asshole is playing you, and you just eat it up!"

You feel a pang of confusion and a small sting of hurt at Charlie's words. You had come here with the best intentions, but his anger and suspicion make you feel like maybe you've made a mistake.

Mabel on the other hand, whirls on Charlie and snaps at him, her voice filled with anger. "I meant it when I said this conversation is over! So fucking drop it" she says firmly.

Charlie starts to protest again, his voice loud and agitated. "You're my girlfriend! How you’re going about this is deflective and complete bullshit-" he insists, his face reddening with anger.

But Mabel cuts him off with a mirthless laugh, her eyes narrowing as she retorts, "Since when? You haven't exactly been acting like it lately, have you?"

Mabel steps closer to him, her voice rising as her pent-up emotions finally boil over. "You haven't been supportive of me wanting to go to community college, or did you forget about that in the midst of your self righteous quest to be the hero?!" she lists out, her voice growing more heated as she continues.

"This actually your fault, you know that right? I did YOU a favor, put myself in a compromising position. Now I’m fucked, I was gonna go to community college. Jesus, Charlie, you’re barely present in the conversations when I’m trying to talk to you about it!”

Charlie throws his hands up in frustration, his own emotions finally bubbling over. "I don't know what you want!" he explodes, his voice rising.

“What do you expect me to say, huh? Look where you come from and look where I come from, I don’t know what you want me to say to you! I have no place to do that!”

Mabel looks at him in disbelief, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "The point isn't about giving me exactly what I want," she says firmly, stepping back and pinning Charlie with a steely gaze.

"The point is about you showing that you care, that you care about my dreams and ambitions. And clearly" she continues, her words stinging, "you don't."

You glance anxiously back and forth between Mabel and Charlie, feeling increasingly out of place as their argument continues. It's clear that their conversation is spiraling, with Charlie saying all the wrong things and Mabel's frustration and anger growing by the minute.

In your defense, you hadn't intended to witness this blowup. Charlie had brought their argument outside and kept on pushing all the wrong buttons.

You know Mabel can handle her own, but if he doesn’t check it, you’ll easily knock his teeth down his throat.

“I do care-“Charlie begins to protest, but Mabel cuts him off before he can say more, her voice laced with bitter sarcasm.

"Oh, you care? Really?" she retorts. "How exactly have you shown me that you care? Because from where I'm standing, you’ve been no where when I’ve needed you the last few days".

You step up, interjecting into their argument with a tentative murmur of her name, trying to defend Charlie. "Mabel," you murmur, feeling a pang of empathy for Charlie, despite your… reservations about him "don’t-"

Mabel pivots her attention to you, her anger now directed your way. She punctuates her words with a warning jab of her finger in your direction, her voice sharp and biting. "Stay the fuck out of this," she snaps, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. "This has nothing to do with you-"

Charlie cuts in abruptly, his attention shifting to you as he points at you, his tone accusatory. "It has everything to do with Lucky! What's with you always being there whenever something bad happens to her, huh?!” he accuses, his voice laced with suspicion. "You always happen to show up and play the hero, don't you? You’re fake as shit, I mean Lucky isn’t even your real name, does anyone know it?!-“

Wow, okay, so much for trying to defend him. This is why you’re never the bigger person.

Mabel pushes against Charlie's chest, her frustration and anger causing her to lose control. Her voice is a mixture of anger and desperation as she snaps at him, her words laced with a mix of hurt and anger.

"Lucky is the only person I've ever been able to count on! My whole life!" she exclaims, her voice rising on each word. "You're always late, or you blow me off, or you make me feel like my dreams don't even matter. But-" she gestures towards you, something a bit softer involuntarily slipping into her gaze.

"-Y/N has always been here for me, before you, and now clearly after you”.

It’s been so long since anyone has referred to you by your legal name, rather than the nickname you chose to start going by back in your adolescence. And the fact that it’s coming from her mouth makes it all the more meaningful.

The revelation lingers in the air for a charged few seconds, and as Charlie glances between the two of you with an unreadable expression. It’s almost like he knows he’ll never be able to compare to the history you two share.

Still, Charlie retorts, his voice strained with stress and responsibility as he defends his actions. "I have my brother to think about," he says, his expression earnest. "I'm doing everything I can to keep us both safe. You have no idea what I'm dealing with”.

The silence that follows his words is heavy and deafening, hanging in the air like a thick veil.

You and Mabel exchange a knowing look, both of you thinking the same thing. His excuse, no matter how genuine his feelings for his brother are, comes off as selfish and self-centered. It's as if he's using his brother as a shield to deflect criticism and avoid taking responsibility.

And considering the situation, where you stand, the danger you’ve put yourself in for her safety, this seems to be chipping the headstone of whatever is going on between Charlie and Mabel. Because as her face shifts to something venomous, a look you’ve had directed at you once before, you know he’s fucked.

Mabel's tone is cold and unforgiving as she utters her biting words, her voice laced with a biting sarcasm. "Unbelievable," she says, her eyes hardening as she looks at Charlie. "I should've known an entitled, rich jackass like you would be this selfish. Honestly, I called it. What a waste of my time."

The moment hangs heavy in the air, thick with tension and raw emotions. The slowly rising sun, its soft light bathing the scene in an early-morning glow, seems to do little to soften the heated confrontation. Mabel and Charlie stand facing each other, engaged in a tense standoff, each unwilling to back down or concede.

So, you take it upon yourself to try and help.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension, your arms raised in a mockingly serious gesture as you glance up at the sky.

"Excuse me, oh wise clouds above," you declaim, "is the elephant in the room with us tonight?" Your words hang in the air, the sarcastic question adding a touch of levity to the otherwise heavy atmosphere.

Mabel shoots you a sharp glare, clearly not amused by your attempt at injecting some humor into the situation. "I want you both to leave, I can’t think with all the bitching" she instructs firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. Without another word, she turns and heads towards the stairs leading up to her place, her footsteps heavy with the weight of her anger and frustration.

The tension between you and Charlie is palpable, neither of you willing to meet each other's gaze. The silence is thick with unspoken words and lingering resentment. After a few moments, Charlie breaks the stillness, his movements stiff and tense as he turns and walks away without a glance back.

The sound of a truck starting up fills the clearing, tires pushing along pavement fades into the distance, leaving you standing alone in the heavy atmosphere.

You turn towards your car, preparing to follow Mabel's demands and leave. But then you pause, your hand on the door handle, torn. There's something nagging at you, an itch you can't quite scratch.

Your mind begins to race, thoughts flickering through your mind like a slideshow of memories. You think back on all the other times Mabel has told you to leave, the heated arguments, the strained moments, the harsh words exchanged. The weight of each memory hits you like a punch to the gut.

The thought of Mabel being alone, feeling isolated and abandoned, cuts through your thoughts. You know her better than that. You can picture her up in her apartment now, still angry and upset, struggling to cope with the fallout of her fight with Charlie.

This realization hits you like a wave, and with it comes a second realization that you shouldn’t have listened to her when she told you to leave.

Not now, not a year ago, never again.

Against your better judgement, you let go of the door handle, steeling yourself for what lies ahead. You take a deep breath and turn away from your car, facing the stairs leading up to Mabel's apartment.

It's a risky move, going against her wishes and potentially angering her even further. But the thought of leaving her alone, hurting and vulnerable, doesn't sit right with you.

This time, you'll stay, despite the potential consequences.

Personal growth? Perhaps. Or maybe you’re just done using her chasing you off as an excuse for not fighting hard enough for her.

You don't even knock. It's an unspoken agreement between you, your oldest routine. She never knocks either, because a door means nothing when a person is your home.

So, you open the door without making a sound, gently pushing it open and stepping into Mabel's apartment.

You step around the changing divider, your footsteps almost inaudible on the rug. Mabel glances in your direction, noticing movement from the corner of her eye. She pivots quickly, turning her head to look at you with a mix of surprise, anger, and resignation.

The atmosphere is heavy with unspoken emotions, a thick tension hanging in the air. Frustration, hurt, anger - they all churn within you, blending together in a bittersweet cocktail of feelings. Both of you are aware of the lack of communication that has led to this point. So many moments left unexplained, all the opportunities wasted.

It's a familiar dance. One you've both participated in before, each one taking turns in the lead. The silence between you is deafening.

Mabel surges forward, her anger and frustration bubbling over. She tries to push at you, her movements weakened by the maelstrom of emotions raging inside of her.

The words she means to muster up, words meant to tell you to leave, lodge in her throat, unable to escape. Instead, they come out as a strangled sob.

You catch her wrists as she lashes out at you, holding them firmly but gently. Wordlessly and without a second thought, you pull her into a tight embrace, feeling her body relax and sink into your arms.

For the first time in over a year, Mabel crumbles, her emotional walls finally crumbling as the weight of the past week crashes down on her. Her body trembles as she muffles her sobs into your chest, letting go and surrendering to the overwhelming emotions.

The feeling of holding her is both familiar and new at the same time. Your heart aches for her, each muffled shudder feeling like a stab to your chest.

But you swallow your own emotions, smothering them in order to be there for her in this moment. Your grip is firm, reassuring, even though your own eyes sting with unshed tears.

Mabel suddenly pulls away, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, trying to compose herself. Her voice is soft, a mix of irritation and vulnerability as she utters the question, "God, why do you always do this?"

The question hangs heavily in the air, loaded with the complexities of your relationship.

You stand there, stunned, your confusion evident on your face. You utter a soft and puzzled, "I don't understand."

The words betray your own emotions - confusion, hurt, guilt - all swirling together in a chaotic storm within you.

Mabel stands with her back to you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest in a defensive, closed-off stance. She gnaws nervously on her thumbnail, a nervous habit that surfaces in moments of stress.

After taking a shaky breath, she answers, her tone defensive. "You always show up, even now a year later, even after what happened" Mabel says tremulously.

"Whenever I'm upset, whenever I'm hurt, you're always there. You always show up when it matters, and you're always so fucking good to me in those moments," she adds, her voice catching. "And it just... it pisses me off, you know? You piss me off."

You listen as Mabel speaks, her back still turned to you. The mix of emotions in her voice is palpable, each word she says is laced with pain and confusion, a complex maelstrom of feelings that reflect the history between you two. You listen in silence, absorbing everything she says, feeling the weight of it in your chest.

She continues, her voice a mix of anger and hurt, "You’ve always had to be the one to save the day. What's your deal, huh? Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do you always have to do this?"

As you step forward, shaking your head, you utter a pleading, "don't do this."

But Mabel's emotions are already boiling over, and your words seem to only stoke the fire, rather than quell it.

She turns to face you, her eyes blazing with an intensity that matches the whirlwind inside of her.

"You know what, let’s fucking do this, it’s long overdue!" she practically snarls back, her voice sharp and defiant.

The flashback hits you forcefully, transporting you back to a time when similar words were exchanged, when the same argument erupted between you.

Your anger flares in your chest, mirroring the intensity of that moment in the past. You straighten up, challenging her with your own declaration, "fine! You wanna do this now? Wanna let it out on me again? Go ahead! It's about time!"

Mabel surges forward, her frustration flaring as she pushes at you with surprising force. You feel this one, body still aching from the other day, but you bite your tongue and swallow it down.

The last thing you need is to let her see you weak, or make her feel worse than she already does.

Her voice is sharp and filled with accusiation as she demands, "why didn't you tell me the truth about Weeks?"

You push her hands away, your own voice taut with frustration. "You already know the answer to that," you retort, your own emotions bubbling to the surface "I already told you why."

Mabel steps forward to push you again, only this time you step back, the motion forgotten as her voice rises, "in the four years we’ve known each other you never once told me, so don’t give me that same bullshit excuse about how you were ashamed." The hurt and betrayal in her tone is palpable, reflecting the weight of the secret you carried.

“I am ashamed, why the fuck do you think I stopped running with him after everything that happened?!” You retort back, running your fingers through your hair.

“You still had every opportunity to tell me, and you didn’t! I had to find out FROM HIM!”

Tears stream down Mabel's cheeks, raw and exposed. The disappointment in her eyes cuts deep as she shakes her head at you.

"I hate you," she whispers, her voice thick with hurt, "because you made me fall for you, knowing what you knew, along with the fact Weeks is the reason my mom got into drug dealing. Which you also conveniently forgot to mention”.

The anger roars to life inside of you as you throw your hands up and ask pointedly, "so is that why you ratted me out to him? To get even? Even after I torched his stash? I only did that because of your vendetta against him!"

Mabel points a threatening finger at you, "I never asked you to do that for me," she snaps, her words heavy with anger and guilt. "Even now after all this time, do you really still think I set you up? That I wanted to watch him beat the shit out of you?!"

“I don’t know what to think, you cut me out and disappeared before I could make you talk to me! I only know what he told me, he’s family Mabel-“

Your protest is cut off abruptly as Mabel's voice cuts through the air, her words filled with pain. "Yeah, well, I'm your family too!" she says, her voice rising in volume. "And the truth is, I didn't have a choice! My hands were tied!"

Your voice rises to a near shout as you insist, "everyone has a choice!”

But before you can continue your protests, Mabel drops a revelation that cuts through your need to be heard.

"He threatened me," she utters in a shaky voice, "if I ever told you the truth."

The anger that flared within you simmers down into a state of confusion. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as a moment of silence descends upon you both, the weight of her confession hanging in the air.

There's a visible shift in Mabel's demeanor as the initial acrimony of the argument begins to subside. The fire in her eyes dulls slightly, replaced by a flicker of regret.

It's as if the impact of her words in the heat of the moment is starting to sink in, and she begins to feel the weight of the things she said.

You take a step forward, your face contorted from the tangle of emotions inside you. Your voice is quieter now, the anger softening into a mixture of hurt and a need to understand. "Mabel," you murmur, voice strained, "what truth?”

Mabel hesitates, her head shaking in a reflexive defensive motion. She tries to turn away, her body angling away from you. But you reach out, catching her arm gently, your touch light but firm, silently insisting for her to face you and tell you the truth.

Your eyes meet, and that's the moment when Mabel's defenses crumble. The weight of the secret she's been carrying for the past year comes crashing down as she finally utters the confession. "I told my mom," she whispers, her voice thick with guilt and pain. "I told her what you did and… she sold you out to Weeks”.

Mabel continues, her voice shaky and her eyes filled with a mix of emotions. She wets her lips, her mouth working nervously as she struggles to get the words out.

"I... wanted to get back at her, have her know the drugs she cares about more than her kids was gone" she confesses, her voice laced with a strange blend of guilt and bitterness.

"For everything she put me through, for the years of pain and neglect. It was a moment of weakness, the words just came out on impulse. I didn’t think it would spiral out of control like it did."

Mabel's eyes harden as they meet yours, a cold expression settling on her face. Her voice takes on a matter-of-fact tone as she continues. "Weeks found me the day before he confronted you," she says, her words cool and detached. "He threatened me, told me if I wanted my ‘bitch of a mother’ to still have his business then I needed to keep my mouth shut, and if I didn’t…”

Your stomach twists as the gravity of her confession sinks in, the hurt and betrayal from that day welling up inside of you once again. But this time, a hint of understanding begins to surface, a piece of the shattered puzzle slotting into place.

Even with the truth now laid bare in front of you, your mind races with question after question.

But the only coherent words that escape your lips are simple: "Why? Why didn't you tell me?" your voice cracks, a mixture of hurt, confusion, and desperation.

Mabel's frustration flares as she pulls away from your grasp, her voice sharpening. "Because you think you're invincible," she retorts, words laced with anger yet again.

"He knows I'm the one thing that makes you weak. That's why I couldn't tell you, because you would have barreled in, with no care for your safety, and gotten yourself killed”.

The words cut deep, like a sharp jab to your chest. Your own emotions rise to the surface, and you snap back, raw with hurt and betrayal.

“So you just clocked out and chose money over us? Over me?!" The disbelief in your voice is mirrored by the hurt in your eyes, the reality of her choice ripping through you once again.

Mabel throws her hands up, “it was never about the money!" she asserts, her voice sharp with emotion.

"I don't want to be the one who’s in love with you when you inevitably get yourself killed!" the words escape her lips in a pain-filled outburst, and the way she freezes right after only tells you it was an admission she didn’t mean to confess.

The tension in the room evaporates suddenly, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. You and Mabel stand there, facing each other, the weight of the truth now laid bare between you.

The air is dense with the enormity of everything that had gone unsaid for so long, all of it sitting wide like a gaping reopen wound.

Mabel's voice is soft and raw as she speaks, her words heavy with pain and weariness. "I can't keep doing this, with you," she says, her voice trembling just slightly. "I can't keep worrying about you, knowing that one wrong move could get you killed. I can't keep reliving the fear every time I think you're in danger."

Your jaw tightens, your gaze fixed on the floor as you mutter softly, the words a quiet confession filled with determination. "I can defy him and screw him over, Mabel, but… I can't abandon him after everything he’s done for me."

You’ve felt this weight for years now, heavy on your shoulders is obligation, loyalty, and a deeply ingrained sense of responsibility.

Your eyes meet Mabel's, and in that moment, you see the pain and hurt etched on her face.

Her voice is a broken whisper as she asks, "But you can abandon me, and that's okay?"

The question hang heavily in the air, a raw and vulnerable plea that cuts deep.

Your head shakes in vehement denial. The words are strained, a mixture of hurt and frustration twists your features as you retort, "I never abandoned you. You were the one who shut me out and told me to go".

Both of you stand there, the realization of your own shortcomings and those of the other dragging heavily on you.

However, with emotions running so high, it's clear that this conversation has reached a temporary stalemate.

Mabel turns away from you, her voice hoarse from all the shouting, uttering "just leave."

Her body language betraying hesitation, there's a hint of something in her voice that suggests she might not entirely mean it. There's a strained, reluctant look in her eyes, a flicker of conflict warring within her.

Which is exactly why she turned away from you, because she knows you’ll see it, you always see right through her eventually.

For the first time, you stand your ground, refusing to be pushed away. The hard part is over, the truth and lies laid out in full view. You're done letting her keep you at arm's length, done with the secrets that have torn you apart.

You’ve both made mistakes, even if they were with the right intentions.

With determination in your eyes, you decide that you won't let it continue, that you won't let the lies keep you apart any longer.

“No, not this time. We've spent too long dancing around each other, hiding behind lies and half-truths”.

Mabel glances back at you, her expression torn between surprise and a hint of stubborn resistance. But it's her eyes that speak volumes – there's a flicker of something there, a mixture of exasperation and something deeper, something more like hope.

She doesn't respond right away, the internal struggle playing out on her face.

Eventually, Mabel mutters something under her breath, finality in her voice.

"I guess you'll just have to stay then”.

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