#i think he was my first ever anime crush

[xoxojisu]

YOU JUST STARTED TO SEE KUROO’S APPEAL?!? 😭😭

ok listen.

[suntails]

hijo de la luna

[azureasterart]

btw i have d8 w de@ th brainrot real bad RN so I've just been drawing gwimmy instead of glamoo. I will draw glamoo I swear they are my babeis and I am getting to a point where I can think of glamoo again man they're so. They're so sweet,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, cries

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Daytrip.

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi x Reader (Hunter x Hunter).

Word Count: 5.6k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Prolonged Captivity, Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions of Animal Death, Semi-Public Sex, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Isolation, and Stalking.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was, per usual, Illumi’s face.

His dark eyes wide and unblinking, his skin bloodlessly pale, his lips pulled into a thin, neutral line – and all of it no more than three inches away. You were too numb to his off-putting proximity to scream, but you flinched back into your pillow on instinct, and Illumi took the hint, lingering for another half second longer before drawing back. A few months ago, you might’ve scrambled away, barricaded yourself in the smallest corner of your lavish bedroom, but now, you only rolled onto your side, regarding him with the same exhausted resignation that you used to pay to your cat, when she woke you up three hours early for no other reason than her own selfish desire not to spend the small hours of the morning alone.

“What’s up?”

It might’ve been a little too casual of a greeting for your kidnapper, but he didn’t seem to mind. “There are clothes waiting for you on your vanity. The butlers will help you dress as soon as possible.”

 So this was going to be an out-of-bed thing, after all. Reluctantly, you started pushing yourself up. “Are we in a hurry for a reason, or…?”

There was a brief moment of consideration, then a resolute nod from Illumi. You let out an inward sigh. “Okay, whatever, that’s my fault. Why are we in a rush, ‘lumi?”

“I have something planned for the two of us.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought you saw his expression light up. “A daytrip, I believe.” And then, as if as an afterthought, “I’m very excited.”

Illumi’s excitement was normally something you tried to avoid, but your mind seemed to glaze over that and settle on the word ‘daytrip’ instead. Daytrips meant traveling. Daytrips meant activities.

Most pressingly, daytrips meant getting to leave the empty, lifeless, murderer-infested wasteland that was his family’s estate for the first time since he carried you through its gates. You knew better than to say that in as many words, though.

“And for this daytrip, we’ll be going…” You trailed off, gesturing in the direction you felt most strongly would lead back to civilization. “…out there?”

“We’ll be leaving the mountain, yes.”

“And we’ll be going place where other people are?”

“I suppose so, if it can’t be avoided.”

“And your family wasn’t involved with this at all?”

“They don’t think it’s right for you to be given so much freedom so quickly,” he explained. “I disagree. Even well-trained dogs have to be walked.”

For the first time ever, you had to resist the urge to kiss him.

Instead, you only let yourself smile, casting your sheets aside and settling for a brief but bone-crushing hug. “Thank you thank you thank you!” You pulled away abruptly, sliding off of the mattress. “I—I’ll get dressed!”

Illumi didn’t move, didn’t react, but his eyes followed you as you stumbled across the room – happier than you’d been in months.

~

A little less than an hour later, you were spread across Illumi’s lap in the back of a surprisingly conspicuous black car, the divider raised to block a faceless driver from view. It took a concerted amount of effort to keep your attention on anything but the window, but you managed, only sparing the occasional glance towards the passing scenery.

You watched the mountainside spiral downward as Illumi’s hands settled around your waist, measuring the widening gaps between dense patches of forestry as his mouth ghosted over the side of your neck. It’d always surprised you – how tactile he was, how someone so cold could be so fond of peppering feather-light kisses into your collarbones and groping at your thighs. It’d been weeks since the last time you tried to brush off his affection. As far as you were concerned, there were worse things he could do to you than mimic the behavior of a more conventional boyfriend.

(At some point, you’d come to think of Illumi as the unclimbable, unmovable, twenty-foot-tall wall that separated you from freedom. You didn’t like him, sure, but you had to recognize that on your own, you had no chance of getting past, over, or around him. If something happened to render him a little weaker, a little less tall, a little more susceptible to opening his gates, then things might change, but you couldn’t rely on elusive possibilities. The way you saw it, you could either waste your time trying to overcome an insurmountable obstacle, or you could save your energy and try to make things as pleasant on this side of the wall as was humanly possible, given your below-standard working conditions. Until you met someone willing to offer you a ladder, at least.)

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and your eyes flitted back to the window. You were passing buildings, now – houses and apartments, people dotted in front of them blurred mannequins. “Can you tell me where we’re going, or am I not supposed to know?”

He seemed to think for a second, but answered quickly enough. “Brunch, first,” he said, not bothering to pull away from you. “The rest is a surprise.”

You pursed your lips. You used to like surprises, but Illumi had managed to change a lot of things about you. “Is ‘the rest’ something I’ll like?”

 “It’s something you’ve been known to enjoy.”

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes. You’d been ‘known to enjoy’ a lot of things, most of which Illumi had taken away from you.

There was one more open-mouthed kiss pressed into your collarbone, one more stolen glance of the outside world, and then, the vehicle was easing to a steady halt in front of a rustic, almost quaint building. A café, you realized, as Illumi stepped out in front of you, holding the door open while you stared wide-eyed at the perfectly idyllic, perfectly normal restaurant. The cute type, with a triangular roof and a greenery-laden front porch and chipped paint on either side of the front door.

Subconsciously, some part of you must’ve decided that you’d never see anything more charming or more homey than the lifeless grounds of Illumi’s estate again. You opted not to linger on that, as you stepped out of the car.

The interior was similarly fairytale-esque. There weren’t any other customers or wait-staff, which you’d expected, but string lights hung from the rafters, fresh wildflowers sitting in pitchers on each table. Illumi let you choose where to sit, and you shot for a spot closest to the front windows – bay-style and freshly cleaned, the kind of thing you might’ve stared longingly out of while nursing an overpriced latte for the better part of an hour. Suit-clad butlers stood guard on either side of the door, but if you were lucky, you’d still be able to catch the occasional pedestrian walking by. You would’ve given anything to sit in a room filled to bursting with other people, but since you couldn’t have that, you’d settle for being able to watch a handful from a distance.

“You’re staring.”

“So?” You responded to Illumi without looking away. “You stare at me all the time.”

“That’s different. I have a reason to look at you.”

“Which is?”

“I love you.”

It might’ve been easier to believe if he hadn’t said it with all the warmth and all the affection of a corpse, already given time to cool.

You changed the topic swiftly.

“It’s a little nostalgic, honestly. I used to come to places like this all the time, especially before I made any friends in the city. It was nice to feel lonely in a aloof-and-mysterious kind of way, instead of an anti-social-and-depressed sort of way.”

“Oh, you were never really alone.” You didn’t say anything, but you made the mistake of shifting your gaze onto him, of spurring him forward with the reward of your attention. “It was a guilty pleasure of mine – spending time with you before we met. I preferred it when you sat outside. It was easier to smell your perfume, in the open air.”

You grit your teeth. It wasn’t the most disturbing thing he’d ever admitted, but it definitely made the list. “…I think I would’ve remembered sitting next to someone like you.”

If he’d been more expressive, you could’ve imagined him smirking. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

There was a brief lapse, a moment of uncertainty on your part. Finally, you asked, “Did I smell… nice?”

“Very.” Illumi didn’t share your sense of trepidation. “Like cinnamon.”

You hummed, and as if by magic, a waitress appeared from the door to an unseen kitchen – white knuckling her pen with one hand and driving her nails into her notepad with the other. She took your orders with a terrified sort of professionalism, and before you left, you convinced Illumi to give you all the cash he was carrying at the moment (a sum that easily added up to half a year’s worth of rent, handed over without so much as a passing question) and left it on the table for her to find.

~

Your second stop was as surprising as Illumi had promised. If anything, he’d undersold it.

If the quaintness of the café had been enough to throw you into a stupor, then the sheer scale of the building in front of you could’ve sent you to an early grave. A mall – a nice mall, either recently built or nestled so far into the upper-class shopping district that you never would’ve come across it organically, the type with glass where there should’ve been walls and a fountain without any coins at the bottom. You were tempted to try and pester loose change off of one of the butlers flanking you, but decided against it. The café, you could’ve stumbled into on your own, without Illumi’s intervention. It just didn’t feel right to leave a mark where you so obviously didn’t belong.

More similarly to the café, though, the inside of the shopping complex was startlingly empty. Butlers and hired security were posed in front of exits, but other than that, it wasn’t hard to believe that you and Illumi were the only people on the property. As soon as you were past the initial entryway, you ducked into the closest store – a high-end cosmetics retailer. The door was unlocked, but there was no cashier at the register. Like someone had already come through and cleared it out.

“This is some backrooms shit,” you mumbled to yourself, and then, to Illumi, ever-hovering just over your shoulder. “You didn’t… you know, do what you normally do to people you don’t like, right?”

“Are you asking me if I killed everyone in this shopping complex prior to our arrival?”

“Well, not everyone,” you clarified. “Maybe just the employees?”

He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth turned ever-so-slightly upward, as if you’d said something funny. “No, that would’ve taken far too much time.” The unnecessary loss of life went unacknowledged. “The building’s rented out, and the stock’s been purchased in advance. You’re only deciding what you’d like to keep.”

Huh.

One day, you were going to sit him down and have a long, long talk about class privilege and resource waste. If you were feeling generous, you might even throw generational wealth onto the lecture, just to make sure he got the full picture.

One day, but not today.

“The third floor always has the best stores,” you said, turning on your heel and grabbing Illumi’s hand, too distracted to think anything of the gesture. “Let’s start there.”

You weaved in and out of stores with reckless abandon, hyper-aware that you had no one’s time to waste but your own. Essentials were overlooked entirely, makeup and self-care supplies limited to eyeshadow pallets with no less than several dozen eye bleeding colors and bath-bombs that were more glitter than pigment, and clothes made up the bulk of your adoration. Everything that wasn’t in your size had already been removed – something as worrying as it was convenient. The only thing you refused to try on was loungewear. It would’ve been practical, sure, but you didn’t need to be reminded that this was likely the last time you’d ever leave Illumi’s sprawling home.

“You know,” you called from a dressing room, pulling a gingham dress over your head. You couldn’t see Illumi, but you were sure he wasn’t far. He didn’t seem to have much of an interest in shopping, but his favorite hobby was looming over your shoulder like some blank-eyed, haphazardly domesticated bird of prey, so it balanced out. “If this had been our first date, I probably would’ve married you.

You heard him hum as a weight settled against the dressing room door. “I enjoyed our first date. It was endearing – how long you rested your head in my lap.”

“Well, yeah. The paralytics you used were so strong, I couldn’t move for three days.” You’d still lose feeling in your left arm, if you held it at the wrong angle. It reminded you a little of your cat, after she first came around to the idea of sitting in your lap. You’d been so afraid of scaring her off, you’d let your legs fall asleep before you so much as thought about moving her. “I just meant that the whole ‘kidnapping’ thing probably wouldn’t have been necessary, y’know? I wasn’t exactly in a place to be picky when it came to creepy rich men.”

There was a brief lapse of silence, and you finally managed to drag the bodice of the dress into place. “I never considered that.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you to hear that Illumi wasn’t the dating type, and yet, you let out a breath of a laugh. “You never thought about asking me out? Not even once?”

“…no, I didn’t.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded shy. “It was hard to be practical. I was distracted. You were perfect, and contained, and I thought touching you would be—” For the first time, his voice seemed to dip, to grow just a little quieter. “—vulgar. It would’ve changed you, to know I was there.”

The skirt was layered, and you bit back the urge to curse as you smoothed over the layers of cotton and lace. “I think being abducted might’ve changed me, too.”

“It was the better option. Something would’ve fallen out of place eventually, but like this, I could save you. Only your environment had to be altered.”

He made it sound like he’d sealed you behind glass, rather than underneath a mansion occupied by the world’s most dangerous killers. You’d known better than to hope he’d be able to come up with a selfless reason for your prolonged captivity, but still. Hearing that you were miserable because he needed a ballerina to decorate his music box with stung more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“…it’s unlocked. You can come in, if you want.” Immediately, you heard the dressing room door creak open, and turned your attention towards your reflection. Out of the countless you’d tried on, there was a reason you’d saved this dress for last. You used to fantasize about being able to afford something so wonderfully needless, something you wouldn’t have had to justify with things as joyless as ‘function’ and ‘practicality’. Even now, the puffiness of the sleeves and the lace detailing around the collar and the tiny, almost impossible-to-see hearts printed onto the checked pattern felt exorbitant – borderline garish. You still didn’t have any reason to wear it, any place you could’ve gone to show it off, but then again, you didn’t have much of a reason to do much of anything when you were with Illumi. You guessed, in a roundabout kind of way, that meant you got to do whatever you wanted to.

Illumi came to stand behind you, and you leaned back, kissing his cheek gingerly. “I’ll add it to the pile. Thanks for this, ‘lumi.”

His hands found their way to your hips, settling there as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Keep it on. It suits you.”

You tried to laugh, but fell short – your smile falling into something more strained. You really shouldn’t have said anything, but you were talking before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of it. “The cinnamon,” you started, speaking against the dryness in your throat. “When I first moved to the city, the only apartment I could afford was flat above a bakery. The ventilation was awful, and the landlord was impossible to get a hold of, and everything I owned smelled like sugar and cinnamon and bread. I couldn’t touch anything sweet for months, after I moved out.”

It was all you could do to bite down on your tongue and force yourself to stop, to shut up, to remember who you were talking to. Illumi’s response was less dramatic – as instantaneous as it was muted.

“How fitting,” he said, with a chime of a laugh. “Sweet things belong in sweet places.”

…

You could only be mad at yourself, really. What else were expecting? It wasn’t like he was going to get down on his knees and apologize, for fuck’s sake.

You sighed, melting into Illumi’s chest. Of course, he welcomed you with open arms.

~

You didn’t end up keeping any other dresses. A few other articles of clothing, a couple pairs of shoes, a small fortune’s worth of little luxuries that’d help you pass the time when you were returned, kicking and screaming, to solitary confinement, but no dresses. Well, aside from the one you were wearing, of course.

It wasn’t long before Illumi started gently ushering you to the nearest exit, and already thoroughly defeated, you didn’t try to resist. You only got distracted once on your way out, and not for very long. Illumi made sure of that.

It was kiosk-type stand – the glass cabinets filled with high-end pet toys and animal-themed tchotchkes. You couldn’t stop yourself, gasping as you broke away from Illumi and darted to the first thing that caught your eye: a bright pink collar with silver spikes, adorable and cliché and so, so cute. It was clearly meant for a dog, but it could’ve fit a cat. Or, you probably would’ve tried to make it fit a cat, rather.  

Illumi appeared at your side, as always, and you started talking without looking up. “I’m sorry, I know we’re in a rush, but it just—” You paused, trying and failing to bite back a smile. “I had this cat before you took me – her name was Ghost. She used to be the neighborhood stray, but she was getting pretty old, and I think other cats were picking on her. Eventually, I just started letting her in, and after a while, she stopped leaving. She would’ve hated something like this.” You held up the collar, gesturing dismissively before forcing yourself to set it back down. “She never really liked me. Whoever took her in shouldn’t have had too much trouble winning her over, after I disappeared.”

“Ghost,” he repeated. “Was she a black cat?”

“Yeah, that’s where her name came from. I couldn’t see her at all at night, and she could knock over anything that wasn’t nailed down. It was like living with a poltergeist.”

“She’s dead.”

You felt something small and vital tear open and start to bleed. “…excuse me?”

“You two were quite close. Had she been given the time, she would’ve woken you up the night I came to get you. I didn’t want that.” It took an embarrassing amount of time for you to make the connection, to form the link, to realize why the pain in your chest was quickly becoming so unbearable. “We can get another, if you’re upset. As a couple.”

The shock was numb, if there was any shock to be had at all. “It’s fine,” you managed, eventually, and despite the strain behind your voice, Illumi didn’t argue.

Instead, he glanced towards the nearest glass wall, to where the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon. “We should go.”

“I didn’t realize we were on a schedule.”

“You weren’t supposed to. I told you earlier – the last stop is a surprise.” This time, he was the one to take your hand, squeezing gently as he laced his fingers with yours.

It might’ve been a nice gesture, if his touch hadn’t been cold enough to burn.

~

You weren’t really sure what the third and final stop was supposed to be, at first.

An old sort of a dream knotted and coiled in your chest as his driver ferried you out of the city, metropolis shuttering into mountain backwoods. You’d never really been afraid of Illumi killing you (not when there were so many things that were so, so much worse than death), but as the car eased to a stop on the side of single-lane road, it was hard to imagine why else he would’ve taken you so far from the nearest scrap of civilization, another reason for him to wear such a bright expression as he ushered you outside - the most impatient he’d been all day. It wasn’t until you saw the trailhead – unmarked save for a wooden post and break in the foliage – that you started to relax.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your relief audible. “I’m not really dressed for hiking, ‘lumi.”

“It isn’t far.” And then, taking your hand in his, “I can carry you.”

It sounded more like a matter-of-fact statement than an offer, but you shook your head, edging forward. He was right, in the end. It couldn’t have been more than half a mile of level ground, Illumi holding your hand all the while. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed outside on Illumi’s estate, but you spent so much time in the woods that surrounded his mansion and his mother’s gardens – it would’ve been impossible not to go numb to the absence of bird song, the treacherous slope of his mountain, how little sunlight managed to break through the dense canopy of tangled branches and leaves that seemed to lie a little closer to black than green. It was nice to be somewhere else, somewhere with humming insects and a gentleness to the landscape and just enough dappled sunlight to make you forget who you were with. You kept your head on a swivel, quietly eager to soak in as much of it as you could. If you were lucky, you’d actually get to see some life – a deer, or a wildcat, or—

Something caught in your throat, and your head lulled forward, eyes dropping to your feet. You stared at the ground for the rest of the walk.

Your destination was, similarly, storybook levels of idyllic. The forest thinned and fell away entirely, breaking into a lake that stretched on as far as the eye could see and glittered pink in the light of the setting sun. Stretched over the lake’s shore was a blanket piled with platters of chocolate-covered fruit, breads and cheese, bottles of wine with a matching pair of glasses for each option – everything you might’ve once drunkenly listed off to a friend while fantasizing about your perfect, fairytale date. You glanced around you, looking for the butlers who must’ve only just finished setting up, but Illumi was quick to call your attention back to him. You felt him let go of your hand, your body shift before you could process why you were moving, and then, you were no longer on the ground; one of Illumi’s arms hooked under your knees and the other behind your back, your side pulled against his chest in an effortless bridal carry. You made a passing attempt to squirm, but Illumi didn’t seem to mind – keeping you tucked against him as he made his way to the only unoccupied corner of the blanket and all-but dropped to the ground, leaving you splayed across his lap and safely caged within his arms.  It was hard to tell if he was trying to be romantic in his own, blank, heartless sort of way, or if he’d simply decided you weren’t moving quickly enough. For your own sake, you leaned towards the former.

“It’s awful,” you muttered, and then, correcting yourself, “Not the picnic, I mean – that’s perfect. It’s just, I can never tell what you’re thinking.”

He seemed to consider that, for a moment. A chocolate-covered strawberry was plucked out of the nearest bowl and held to your lips, and to appease him, you bit into it. Your throat still felt too knotted for you to actually enjoy eating, but it was good to keep Illumi happy. “Most of the time, I think about you,” he admitted, any hint of shame absent from his voice. “It’s an issue. It doesn’t affect my work, but it’ll start to if left unchecked.”

He thought about you while cutting down innocent civilians. Great. “And you’re not going to fix that by drowning me in a lake, right?”

“No, I’m not.” Like your question, his answer was too sincere for comfort. The way his free hand toyed with the hem of your skirt did little to ease your nerves, either. “I’ve tried keeping an amount of distance between you and I, but that hasn’t yielded much progress either.”

If he’d ever tried to keep himself away from you, you hadn’t been able to tell. His hand slipped under your skirt properly, and you twisted, reaching for the neared wine bottle. “There’s so much food here, we should really—”

“It can wait.”

It was awful, just how even his voice was. For the first time, you were tempted to give him a reason to raise it.

You’d never resisted Illumi, but he’d never tried to—tried to do this, either. There’d always been an unspoken barrier when it came to sex – your resounding horror shadowed comfortable within his apparent disinterest. Now, though, he didn’t seem very disinterested, and your lingering terror was brushed neatly to the side as his fingers grazed over your thighs, your hip, before slipping underneath the thin, silken fabric. You wanted to thrash, to bolt, but you were suddenly unable to move; paralyzed save for the reflex to clench your legs shut and sink that much deeper into Illumi’s chest. The former was undone with only as much effort as it took him to ease your thighs apart with his knee, though, and the latter only seemed to bring a soft smile to his lips – just barely prominent enough to feel as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. If you’d been in your right mind, you might’ve thought to look for his butlers, to worry about passing hikers or concerned locals he wouldn’t think not to hurt, but Illumi had done his job well. It was impossible not to consider yourself wholly and entirely alone in the world, when you were with him.

He was less clinical than you would’ve expected. Illumi did most things with surgical precision, but touching you seemed to call for a more experimental skillset. His chin came to rest on your shoulder as his long fingers spread and explored underneath your panties, the tautness of the fabric ensuring that he always moved against you, rather than over or around. Undressing you never seemed to cross his mind; instead, his attention was trained on dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit, on using his ring and middle fingers to trace the slit of your cunt. You weren’t turned on – who could be, with their stoic kidnapper fondling them like a child learning to handle their first doll? – but your body and your mind were on two different tracks, one eager to make the best of a bad situation and the other too distraught to stop it. It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself dripping around him, your arousal adding a damp heat to your already claustrophobic point of connection. Illumi hummed. “You’re sensitive.”

You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was drowned out by a hitched gasp as he thrust two digits inside of you with a wet click. “Tight, too,” he muttered, almost absentmindedly, immediately falling into a pattern of pumping and scissoring; spreading you open and pulling back only to fuck his fingers that much deeper. When he paused, it was only to curl against something particularly sensitive inside of you, to leave you shrinking that much further into his chest. “Is this uncomfortable?”

The practicality of the question caught you off-guard. You couldn’t call it considerate, but it was more than you’d expected, more than you ever would’ve hoped for. Unable to speak, you nodded furiously, and Illumi clicked his tongue. “You’ll be alright,” And then, slightly softer, “It couldn’t be any worse than what I had to deal with, waiting for you.”

There was no bitterness, no remorse, no pity; just Illumi’s cold rationality and the feeling of his palm grinding into your clit. The only warmth you could feel was the ghost of his breath on the side of your throat, the dip of your shoulder – not quite panting, but a world apart from his usual absence of expression. You tried to steel yourself, to think about anything aside from Illumi’s presence where it draped across you like a funeral shroud, but it’d been months since the last time you so much as thought about touching yourself, and for all his apathy, you could feel heat pooling in your core and recognize that your attempts to stave off the inevitable were only prolonging the insufferable. Still, it would’ve been impossible not to try and choke back your whimpers as that heat brewed and solidified into something more tense, something more breakable; as Illumi’s cheek pressed into the curve of your neck and his fingers curled against something soft and unprotected inside of you. Your climax was drawn out of you slowly, painfully, with a ragged whine in place of a moan. You kept your face buried in Illumi’s chest, your hands balled around the bodice of your dress. It felt like an eternity passed before it was over, before Illumi’s hand drew back, but no relief accompanied the distance.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate Illumi for it, not really. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel much of anything. The only thing you could think, as hard as you tried not to think at all, was that you missed your dead cat.

It was pathetic, honestly. A sob tore past your lips as he pulled you away from his chest and lowered you onto your back, tears burning twin tracks down your face. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d made you cry, and this shouldn’t have been your tipping point – not Ghost, not your awful shoebox apartment, not the fact that you could hear fabric tearing as he pulled your dress apart, too impatient to so much as consider a less destructive solution. You were in hysterics by the time he glanced up, the faintest possible frown coaxing the corners of his lips downward. “You’re crying.” And then, when your only response was another jagged cry, “Why?”

You opened your mouth, but only managed to force out another incoherent sob. Illumi softened, leaning over you, his dark hair forming a curtain that seemed to replace the rest of the world with unending void. Eventually, you managed to scrap up the only thing you could, even if it wasn’t what you really meant. “I—I want to go home, Illumi.”

He cocked his head to the side, staring down at you with a sort of blank focus. A moment passed, then another, before his expression brightened. “Oh.”

He leaned down, and you felt his lips brush over your forehead. His smile bit into your skin like a blade.

“We will, love.” He pulled back. You heard fabric shift, felt something hot and terrible slot against your cunt. “Just not yet.”

 You moved to respond, but gave up quickly. His mouth crashed into yours as he thrust into you and your blood ran cold.

~

Later on, in the dark, things became bearable again. Illumi was cruel, psychotic, delusional, but he was dutiful, too, and with the most beautiful dress you’d ever seen reduced to scraps, he wrapped you in his jacket and gathered you in his arms. The picnic was untouched, the breath-taking view painted over by night. None of it mattered, of course. You were too exhausted to keep your eyes open, and a bottomless pit occupied the space your stomach used to. You wouldn’t mind going the rest of your life without taking anything of the filthy, unfeeling outside world inside of you ever again, but you knew better than to swear off eating because of Illumi. Or, at least, you hoped you’d know better in the morning.

You were only half-conscious of him pulling you against his chest and starting back into the forest, following the same path you had an eternity ago. It was a stupid question, but you found yourself asking anyway, your voice low and hoarse. “Are we… Are we going somewhere?”

“Of course.” Illumi bowed his head, kissing the top of yours. “We’re going home.”

He didn’t know he was lying, but he was. He might’ve been, but you weren’t.

Slowly and with no small amount of effort, you managed to nod, slumping against his chest. No sooner had you went slack in his arms than the final tether to consciousness thinned and fell away, leaving you to be consumed by the darkness.

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! boys crushing on you ₊˚⊹♡

here are some silly headcanons on how i think the shiratorizawa guys would act while they have a crush on you + eventually confess :3

characters: ushijima, tendou, semi, shirabu, goshiki

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

ushijima

its weird because he knows he likes you and everyone else THINKS he MIGHT like you but hes so blunt and deadpan that its hard to tell

he doesnt treat you differently than he treats any other person but hes very kind and generous

gives you random compliments though, like is hes thinking something he just says it to you

'you look very beautiful today' or 'are you wearing a new perfume? it smells nice'

but at the same time he accidentally insults you like hell ask you when the last time you showered was

because of this nobody can really tell exactly how he feels about you until he eventually confesses

he would probably be very deadpan and unromantic about his confession too, he would just straight up ask you to go out with him (˶˃⤙˂˶)

but TRUST once he gets you out hes bringing you flowers, hes buying you your favorite snacks, hes holding doors for you pulling your chairs out for you

u rlly gotta trust the process LMAO i feel like hes just a lil dummy

tendou

i feel like he wouldnt confess because hes rlly insecure and doesnt think anyone would ever have romantic feelings for him so you would probably have to confess

he does little things to let you know he cares about you, like hed suggest manga he thinks youd like or some songs or has movie nights with you and brings snacks

jokes around a lot with you and actually shows a vulnerable side when hes alone with you

i can see him inviting you out just randomly and casually, like bringing you to a bakery he likes or going to the park with you late at night to swing on the swing sets and chat

also compliments you very boldly but immediately gets super blushy and flustered and starts stuttering ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

probably teases you a lot though but gets really nervy if hes too flirty about it

i feel like youd DEF have to confess but he'd probably be throwing you hints all night, complimenting you, buying you little keychains or snacks, holding your bags for you all that jazz

once you guys are officially together OH MY GOSH is he a different person, constantly flirting and teasing and now youre the one blushing and left stuttering by his words ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

semi

hes actually very sweet and chill about it

like when he first meets you hed probably just straight up say youre really pretty and ask for your phone number

hed be shocked to learn that you actually have a lot in common with him

overall is just very flirty and romantic while crushing on you, like he makes it NO secret that he has feelings for you (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

jokes about you being his girlfriend but surprisingly take a while to actually ask you out

despite that he still is very protective over you and literally treats you like youre his girlfriend

def writes songs for you and sends voice memos of him playing them on his guitar ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

i feel like he wouldnt really try to hard to impress you or anything, hed just feel comfortable being himself around you and doesnt want you to end up falling for someone who isnt him (as in him not acting like himself)

invites you out on dates often before officially asking you out

he ends up asking you out with a cute stuffed animal and candy at your doorstep

shirabu

lurks from the shadows

i feel like he would probably push you away and be kind of cold twoards you because he thinks your really pretty but doesnt want to have feelings for you

i feel like hed just watch you and like admire you from a distance

would probably be too scared to have a genuine conversation with you so he sends you annonymous notes

hes your little secret admirer ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

his notes are so sweet though, like he writes you poems and tells you how nice you looked

i feel like hed be ok just being your secret admirer forever but he realizes he wont be your classmate forever so he ends up writing a note to meet him on the roof of the school during lunch

you end up meeting up with him and he asks you on an official date ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

goshiki

CONSTANTLLY trying to impress you (╥﹏╥)

just a big dork honestly

always invites you to his practices so he can show off his skills to you

if you compliment him hed probably be all blushy and smiley and hit you with the 'yeah it was nothin'

invites you out to play gacha machines and spends a bunch of money on you trying to win the figures you want

also brings you snacks and gives them to you during lunch (˶˃⤙˂˶)

honestly would do anything for your validation

tries to be cool and tough but you see right through that act almost immediately

probably invites you out to a movie and awkwardly tries to hold your hand but only ends up brushing hands with you

would try to ask you out after the movie ends but hed just be stuttering then ends up saying nevermind

you probably have to ask him out lol

even after all that hes STILL trying to act like a tough guy

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Old writing especially on Bo's and then Vincent's part. I realised that I was writing as if their s/o showcased their strength during later on into their relationship in the first three slashers, apologies.

A/n: I am no longer writing for Hannibal or any hannibal characters as I myself have forgotten my own perspective of them.

Slashers x reader who's stronger than them but doesn't look like it!

Warnings: blood and death on the ghostface duos part, very slight mentions of nsfw. But mostly fluff.

Slashers in this: Bo sinclair, Vincent sinclair and Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher (poly)

Relationship: romantic!!

Bo

It clawed at his ego, he's a pretty mean bastard and you know it 🫵.

He first thought of you as the most fragile and weakest person ever (and cutest), I mean, could you even lift a pot half filled with water?

Undoubtedly he used this assumption to 'help you' or more so at times tease you. He loves seeing your reactions and most definitely not because you're so small and kind to him, pfff of course not.

He just absolutely loves lifting you up and over his shoulder and he's definitely an ass guy. He loves ogling and smacking your ass but he won't get to that level until many many months later on. But he's still going to stare.

“Oh Bo, I think there's a rabbit under the truck!” You exclaimed to Bo as you noticed something white and moving below.

"An animal? *sighs* hold on, I'll get rid of that p-" He suddenly loses his ability to formulate words as he witnesses you lift the goddamn fuckin truck with one arm, and indeed there was a rabbit underneath.

“*gasp* it's so cute!” Bo cannot believe what he just saw. Damn, he gotta stop smoking so much it's messing with his brain. He's just staring at you as you pet the timid rabbit with your 'scrawny' arm.

He must admit he does fantasize about you lifting him up and shit, or topping him in bed. Whatever he's feeling that day, and he would rather swallow sand than ever admit that last part.... But y'know if you're up for it-

His cocky and prideful attitude seemingly making an apparent change, he would hold a cup or item you need above your head with a shit eating grin watching you get frustrated with him. Or when he would make jabs about you being too weak to lift three chairs at a time and would offer to help you. (So he could walk beside you.) But now... He still fucking makes jabs at you being weak, just to fuck with you even though he knows it's far from the truth. He loves making you seem like the little helpless princess and him being the asshole shining knight in armor.

You wouldn't mind tho would you? It's a win-win, you get to spend more time with your boyfriend and he gets to spend time with his girlfriend.

Vincent

So gentle and caring with you. He's gentle and caring with whoever he is with but your size just makes him think one wrong move and he's accidentally breaking your arm. And cause of this he can't help but be a worry wart at times and way too protective. Not budging even if you reassure him you're perfectly capable of doing something that requires strength.

During one of the dark evenings you walk with your lover in the forest, the side of the forest where there isn't roadkill so that you can breathe without torturing your nostrils. And finding some fire wood to spend the next dark hours star gazing and ranting to him while the sound of the fire crinkling and burning the wood serves as a nice background music.

Every step you take you hear the crunch of the dead leaves get crushed under your foot, both of you holding your flashlights. You have the warm and slightly calloused hand of your Vincent holding yours affectionately as his thumb brushes against the back of your hand and knuckles, gently tracing over and feeling the ridges and bumps.

You notice some fallen bark and shine your flashlight on it. "Vinny, look there's some firewood over there!" You exclaimed and shined your flashlight elsewhere, looking around more until you had shined it directly on a tree right in front of you that was occupied by a scary looking arachnid, its front limbs moving in a sluggish and relaxed fashion.

You let out a startled yelp and out of instinct your fist went to swing at the spider who somehow successfully managed to not get hit in the nick of time. This also startled your boyfriend who looked worriedly at you, his eyes scanned over to see that you were.. Fine! But the tree you punched wasn't. It has a big dent in it while the flesh of wood was cracked and damaged severely around the impact along with many splinters.

"I'm so sorry Vincent! There was a spider and I got scared!"

He almost let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn't anything serious but he can't get his eyes and mind off the injured tree. Did you... seriously do that? He gently took your hand and examined it, it seemed perfectly fine except for redness, light bleeding and a couple splinters on your knuckles.

He slowly raised one of his hands, pointing towards the punched tree. 'Did you do that?' Is what's probably going through his head. You chuckled sheepishly and nodded in confirmation. He sighed. For now, he'll worry about your fist.

Does this interaction change how he treats you?... Kind of. He isn't too pushy as he was since he now knows how capable you are of handling yourself but there's still that feeling in him, something that gnaws at his inner core for him to help you. He wants to feel useful and to serve you in any way he can, so...please let him dote over you still..? (Of course you will, you can't say no to him.)

If you want to pick him up he'll entertain you, though he'll be extremely flustered and giddy about it. He likes this way more than he should (in his opinion). How comical is it? He's a large 6'1 grown man being carried princess style by his tiny s/o. Despite all this, he still hopes you need him as much as he needs you.

Thomas

Trust me when I saw it really took Thomas by surprise. He's a really big guy and you say this little thing is stronger than him? Oh please, humor him after dinner.

He's a busy man with a lot on his plate, and you seemingly looking like the most harmless person in the world doesn't help, he constantly feels like he has to tend to you and supervise you from a certain officer.

Will usually not allow you to help him when he's working, it depends. He feels guilty letting yourself get caught up with all this but if you insist he'll gladly accept the extra hand with honest gratitude. But generally- 'Back away honey, you might get dirty.' Is what he wishes he could say.

In his eyes you're a saint, an angel. Made perfectly to fit in the space between his thighs he's sitting down and there's no flaw in the way his large hands cups your cheeks with those pretty eyes of yours staring into his – no room for mistake or complain. You're adorable.

The first time he allowed you to help him you admire your handsome behemoth of a lover chopping wood. Appreciating the rolled up sleeved that gave you a good view of his arms, his muscles flexing as he brought the axe down – after he was done with the first small batch of logs you hurried to grab the others.

Tommy watched with amusement and adoration before shifting his weight to help you but stopped as you started walking towards him five logs resting effortlessly in your arms. It didn't even seem to faze you as if it was just you were only a bunch of baby ducks.

Tommy watched in silence as you laid them out on the table, still kind of processing it before nodding his head in gratitude and resuming to chopping them up. He'll bring this up later, maybe. For now he'll focus on getting his work done and spending more with you, and your soft words.

He doesn't really care if you're stronger than him or not, as long as you love him and don't try to run away it's all good. If you want he'll stop trying to do everything for you even though he knows you don't need any assistance – he's so used to working around the house he feels restless not doing anything at all.

If you want to carry him, do it. He's all yours but please do it in private he won't be able to handle the embarrassment if his family sees it. And although he prefers to be the dom he doesn't mind it if you wanna take charge every once in a while and throw him around.

Plus, it creates something pleasantly warm in his stomach.

Michael.

He thinks he's going insane. (He already has.)

He's Michael Myers, the most ruthless killer Illinois has ever seen for the past decades. And you're saying this small creature that he's inhabited has greater strength than him... Yeah, no.

And then he sees you picking up three bodies out of the house with your bare hands while cleaning up the evidence of his the murder he left, quietly observing you. He won't admit it but it kind of irks him. He's supposed to be the one with power in this relationship and quite frankly he doesn't know the true extent to your power.

He warms up to it eventually – although it's more of he doesn't give a fuck anymore. You're not completely weak and helpless? Great, he doesn't have to worry about you as much. Key word: as much. He still does worry a lot when you're out for long hours – he's not worried you're injured or in danger (not anymore) but more as in you're not leaving him, right? Or ratting him out to the police?

Do not ever attempt to pick him up or anything even remotely close to that unless you want a glare from those void, soul-less eye sockets of his mask Or if you want a love tap on the head and cheek. If you give him enough guilty smiles and let go of him he'll let you off the hook. if not, bear the consequences. (They don't even do anything anyways, lmao)

He feels so incredibly annoyed when you start treating him like a child, telling him to go sit down or lie down in bed after he pulled a few all nighters and the fact you successfully manage to pull him back into bed: God dammit, why the hell are you even so strong and you're so small!? Grumpily he does stay put but only if you're with him too.

A man feared by hundreds, if not thousands because of the sheer power and mercilessness he leaves in trails of every step he takes in public... And then there's you, you're half his size and you have more control over him than he'd like. He'd never kill you though, not intentionally, but that will also most likely not happen.

Speaking of killing, don't think he won't murder someone if they attempt to hurt you and gets their ass kicked by you anyways. You attack, he lands the finishing blow. Don't protest, he won't listen.

Billy n' Stu

They're both pretty lean so you can believe it, if not for your given figure. They both adore it, so who cares? Billy and Stu will, eventually.

It was in the heat of the moment, you tell yourself but you remember in vivid detail the day where you saw the bloody escaping victim running towards you – adrenaline pumping in your veins, your mind immediately went into fight mode and swung a fist at their skull. You remember the sickening crunch as blood slowly pooled from their fractured cranium when they lifelessly fell down to the floor.

They first helped you with the lingering guilt first before Stu started annoying you.

''Can you punch me like that next but with a bit less-''

"No!"

Alright, no worries but now he's asking you to lift him up to reach things that he does not need help on. Maybe even just carry him and run around the house. (Don't be fooled, he just wants to be carried around like a child again.) Fluttering his eyelids at you and holding up a jar of pickles. 'Y/n, I can't get this to open!' Yes he can.

Billy, although tries to act neutral but can't help but let his thoughts wander. 'Wow... Strong girl... Can choke me...' He thinks to himself as he watches you and Stu. Not as if he'd ever admit that. He pretends he's disinterested in getting in your arms - no, he just doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But if you persist he'll begrudgingly agree. He indeed liked it.

Stu obviously takes a positive reaction, he loves getting dominated. You can take that however you like. Billy on the other hand feels conflicted, if he's not stronger than you then how will he stop you if you try to leave them or plan to rat them out? Assuming this is during the beginning of your relationship. But overtime the more he takes a good look at your face those thoughts will slowly drown away, there's no way you would, right?

The slashers will probably swoon if you agree to help them place the bodies where they want them to, like hanging them in the trees or something.

Billy keeps it more lowkey. Preferring to keep you in his lap and rest his chin on top of your head. Stu takes your strength to his advantage. When he gets drunk he'll whine and ask you to carry him to bed, and take his socks off. Annoying fuck but you love him either way. And Billy too.

[cherrybr4t]

hoshi as your boyfriend (+18)

(sfw + nsfw)

warnings: first half is all FLUFF <3 nsfw part included too! dancer!hoshi, dancer!reader, fem reader, unprotected sex 😔, public sex, creampie, mirror sex, orgasm denial + edging, they r in luv! <3

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s the school’s infamous dance captain, while you’re a member of the dance club. that’s how the both of you met.

boyfriend!soonyoung who was known to be a dynamic ball of energy, but with you — he was so shy initially. thought you were too pretty to approach, thought you looked out of reach. took him a while to be able to be friends with you.

boyfriend!soonyoung finally had the balls to confess to you after working on a dance project with you for 2 months. impulsive 2am thoughts and a slip of the tongue while the both of you were slurping down cup noodles after practice.

“—so yeah jihoon wouldn’t stop making fun of me, especially about my crush on you and—”

“what?”

“…what did i say?”

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s superrr clingy. even if it’s a separate practice session for team projects within the dance club, he’s gonna be at yours. sitting at the back, the front, beside the mirrors — wherever. (and it makes the juniors/other members nervous as HELL)

boyfriend!soonyoung who gets pouty when you tell him not to show up all the time — “it intimidates the rest!” but he promises to not be noticed the next time; cue him going to your next practice in a ball cap and mask, sitting at the back corner.

boyfriend!soonyoung who is always willing to help and guide you patiently. (though he is always impatient and scary with the other team members) with you though — he can never lose his temper at you. every mistake you make causes him to giggle like you’re the cutest thing ever.

“you’re so cute baby,”

you pout “i’m sorry baby… i can’t seem to get this even though i’ve done it like - 20 times.”

“it’s okay baby, you’re doing so well. doing better than dino even.”

you tilt your head…”that’s impossible”

“i’ll happily watch you practice it a 100 times angel,”

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s your biggest supporter. he’s your biggest fan. after every performance, he never fails to gift you the biggest & most dramatic bouquet of flowers with a little tiger plushie in the middle. with the longest heartfelt letter sealed in a tiger print envelope.

boyfriend!soonyoung who feels so lucky to have you. because if you think he’s dramatic? you’re even MORE dramatic. customised tiger gifts for him, an even bigger bouquet of flowers for him, and the cutest love letter he has pinned on his board at home.

boyfriend!soonyoung who is always your biggest defender. anytime he hears people talking shit about you — he’s immediate to thrash things out with them. always reminds people how hardworking you are, and loves to talk about you to everyone he knows.

“she’s the prettiest, kindest, purest soul i’ve ever met. and have you seen her dance? swear she’s better than me.”

“she’s the best. i don’t know how i got so lucky to love someone like her.”

boyfriend!soonyoung who loves using not only words of affirmation, he loves his quality time with you, he loves feeling your touch all the time, and he’s the best at acts of service.

“i love you baby. i’ll never get tired of telling you how amazing you are. i’m so happy we got to exist in the same universe timeline, like—” *him rambling and getting distracted by the theories about different universe timelines*

*him always planning the most thought out dates — full day itinerary; at the zoo, pottery dates, etc. but he loves spending his down time with you too — sitting at home, putting on animal print face masks together, doing feet baths together.*

he always needs to hold your hand — doesn’t want to lose you in the crowd (though the crowd on tuesdays at the mall seems to be…bleak). hugs with him lasts at least 10 minutes at a time, and naps with him end up with him hugging you like a koala bear on a tree.

hungry at 2am? he’s at your door within 15 with your favourite late night snack. on your period? he’s got a full care pack covered. late for class? he’s already sitting in your lecture hall; attendance marked for you, taking down notes for you.

nsfw version here!

boyfriend!soonyoung who found out he had a thing for exhibitionism one night while the both of you were practicing late in the dance studio.

you were practicing your moves, concentration at a 100% while looking at yourself in the mirror. and he couldn’t help but feel a little turned out by how hard you were dancing. sweaty, flushed and so so pretty.

the song switches — and you snap your head towards soonyoung. he walks towards you in beat with the sensual song, before wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“follow my guide baby,” he sways, holding onto you so tight. he traces your arms, interlocking both hands with you — flowing with the music while his eyes never left yours in the mirror.

“you’re so sexy baby. love the way you move,” he breathes down your neck, eyes shutting for less than a second before he focuses on you again.

you hum, hips moving against his crotch as you feel yourself get heated up as the song progresses. “learned it all from you baby,” your giggle snaps him out of his deep reverie.

“getting bold now are we?”

boyfriend!soonyoung loves how you’re always down to explore new boundaries with him. he knows the deep trust goes both ways, and he’s grateful.

boyfriend!soonyoung loves when you get all needy for him. it’s usually him being all clingy and like a baby when it comes to you. you’re his safe space. so when he sees you being all wide eyed and desperate for him — it turns him on to no end.

he’s a menace. when it comes to fucking you, he’s double the menace. gets off on you being his needy little angel. no one would ever guess what goes on behind closed doors when it comes to him.

he’s edged you for the past 30 minutes, your juices tainting the dance floor that’s only seen blood sweat and tears of the dancers. his smile is sinister, is relishing in the fact that he’s holding the key to your heaven gates at the moment.

loves to have you in front of him sitting right in front of the mirror. the big and wide mirror capturing the indecent act. your legs wide open for him as his fingers alternate between rubbing messily and harshly on your clit, and plunging deep into your his cunt.

wants you to come undone on his fingers and torture alone.

but he’s selfish, only wants to achieve what he’d set to do so earlier. and it’s for you to cum on his cock. he sits on the floor with his pretty cock out in the open, and has you in the same position, except now you’re sitting on his cock — deep inside you. all still facing the mirror where his gaze is locked on every move you make.

“that’s it baby, ride my cock like you fucking mean it yeah?”

“training you to have strong legs baby, you need them to continue to dance amazingly right?”

you cry out at the overstimulation, you want nothing but to cum. every hit his cock makes chokes you and you don’t recognise the girl in the mirror anymore — so wrecked on your boyfriend’s cock.

“tell me what you need pretty girl,” soonyoung teases as he leans back on his hands, enjoying the view in the mirror, hiding how fucked out he feels. how he is so close to cumming right inside of you this very moment. but he’s holding back. he’s got better control than that anyways.

“need to—need to cum nowww soonie, please baby,” tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you continue to ride him, pace faltering as you feel your legs getting tired.

“if you can cum like that, be my guest baby. cum.” he shrugs, and you notice the glint in his devilish gaze through the mirror. you groan, legs giving out on you and you resort to grinding slowly.

“need you to—need you to help me,” you pout, if acting cute won’t get you what you want, you don’t know what else to try.

“baby needs my help? can’t cum on her own? aw baby.” he pouts back at you, and you want so badly to snap at him at his tone but you know better than to do so.

“on your knees, face the mirror. won’t tell you twice.” and all energy resurfaces as you scurry to go on all fours, looking at how desperate you appear through the mirror — your reflection mocking you.

soonyoung grunts in approval. slides his cock right back into you, and thanks the heavens for you. for being able to take you like this. swears you look like an angel even being so fucked out on the dance floor, back being blown out.

“so fucking pretty like this baby, how do you always look so fucking beautiful,” he snaps his hips so deep into you with a certain tempo, and you feel like you’re ascending to heaven each time he fucks his cock into you.

his fingers reach forward to smack your puffy clit, using the tip of his fingers to rub messily, finally deciding to let his angel cum.

“c-can’t—gonna cum—i’m gonna cum gonna cum” you cry out with a hoarse throat with actual tears running down your flushed cheeks this time. your hands reach back to grab onto his biceps, nails plunging in, and it drives him crazy.

“you can cum baby, cum on your fucking cock—cream it baby let me feel you—” you clench around him so tight he lets out a string of ‘fucks’. you fall forward, face flat — cheeks pressed on the dance floor, letting your body do the job of releasing the past hour of edging. all tension let loose, you moan out his name so beautifully as you cream and choke his cock with your cunt.

“fuck fuck fuck baby, gonna cum too. gonna cum inside you pretty, fuuuuuck—” his grip on your hips tighten as he releases his creamy load inside of you. airy moans leaving his chest as he lets his cock paint your cunt as his.

he slows down his thrusts, letting the mixture of your releases mix together slowly. you both slowly relish in the moment of your bodies connecting, feeling nothing but love left.

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s always taking care of you — including after care! loves praising you non stop, leaving trails of kisses everywhere. post-nut clarity hits differently for him — where he always tells himself that he wants to be yours forever.

boyfriend!soonyoung who’s not only the best boyfriend, the best lover but also your best friend and the one person you’re most thankful for in the world ! <3

a/n: haha…was in a hoshi mood…<3 GAH. i hope u guys liked it ! typed this all in one go while thinking abt hoshi n him being the bestest boy ever.

[broodybuck]

Title: The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, childhood friends, neighbors, pining, confessions, friends to lovers, first crush

Summary: Growing up, you always had a crush on the boy next door. Now, twelve years later, you might unexpectedly get your chance with Bucky Barnes.

[ao3 link]

Your parents just handed over the house you grew up in. It was that easy, now it's yours.

They want to be those typical, retired parents and move to Florida — boring! And since you've been renting a studio in Brooklyn for the past four years, you jumped at the chance to have a three-bedroom house in upstate New York. It's already paid off and your parents are wealthy enough, they don't need the earnings for their Florida condo.

You've only been back to your childhood home for holidays in the past few years. Everything has stayed the same, your parents were actually one of the few who didn't turn their daughter's bedroom into a home office or gym. They left the pink wallpaper, the twin bed with the floral comforter, and the tower of stuffed animals on the dresser.

When you arrive with your two suitcases and some extra cash in your pocket since you sold all your studio furniture, you stare up at the house. You smile from the warm memories before you glance over at the house next door.

An older boy named James lived there, but he always went by Bucky. Bucky Barnes is the name that lived in your diary for most of your adolescence. He was four years older than you which meant you had an embarrassing crush on him since you were twelve. He was nice, he always teased you when you saw each other, he even acknowledged your existence for the one year you were both in high school together — you as a freshman and him a senior.

That did wonders for your reputation, you became pretty popular even after he graduated. Still, you would've thrown away all the friends and parties for just one night with Bucky if that was a possibility.

You're not sure you ever got over your crush, more just accepted that it was never going to happen and moved on with your life. It was easy once he went away from college and three years later so did you. You never ran into him again even when you were visiting home for the holidays. It seems the Barnes' residence spent their holidays elsewhere as the house was always dark on those occasions.

Currently, it's two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down so strongly, you start to take off your jean jacket. You're sliding your arms out of the sleeves when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Hey, y/n."

Your arms flap uncoordinatedly, still half in the jacket, pausing in an awkward position as you turn to see your childhood crush standing a few feet away from you. Bucky Barnes, looking sexier than ever.

"Oh, hi,” you splutter.

This man still has the ability to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You do some quick mental math and realize if you’re 27 now then he must be 31. And why do men age so spectacularly? He has somehow managed to become even more attractive in the last twelve years.

"What're you doing here?" you ask as you finally free your arms from the jacket.

"I'm house-sitting," Bucky explains. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, well, the house is sorta mine now."

"Parents gave you the whole thing?"

"Yep, the whole thing," you nod.

"Wow, congrats on the house," Bucky says.

"Thank you," you reply and you both stare at each other in a beat of silence.

"Um actually, since you're around, do you think I could pay you for some manual labor?" you ask suddenly.

"What kind?" Bucky grins fast. It truly takes your breath away, jesus this man should not be allowed to smile.

"I have a dumpster coming tomorrow morning," you explain. "I'm getting rid of my childhood bedroom furniture."

"Yeah, I can help."

"That would be so great, I'll pay you—"

"Don't sweat it. Just treat me to dinner sometime," Bucky shrugs, and your stomach drops. What in the world does he mean by that... like a dinner date?

"Oh, dinner... yeah, okay. You got it," you play it cool and awkward.

He smiles at you, amused.

"Anyway..." you mumble unsure how to retract yourself from this conversation, unsure if you even want to.

"You really grew up, huh?" Bucky says, and he scans you up and down.

"I guess so," you shrug, your face burning. "You too."

"Yeah, guess we haven't seen each other in..."

He appears to be trying to calculate the years but you unabashedly jump in with an exact answer.

"Twelve years."

"Has it been that long?" he asks.

"I... think so," you feign uncertainty.

"So, what time do you need me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Oh, anytime that works for you."

"How about noon?"

"Perfect."

Asking for Bucky's help might've been the worst idea you ever had. When he comes over, he's wearing a cotton-white t-shirt and jeans. His hair is damp and slicked back from a shower. He looks so comfy, it makes you imagine waking up with him. You yearn to know how warm his skin feels fresh from the steam.

You ignore your inappropriate desires and lead him up the stairs to your old room. It's then you realize how many years of your life you desperately wanted to show him your room. Have your crush see these walls, sit on your bed, and make out with you next to your teddy bear.

It's embarrassing but probably every teenage girl wanted the same thing. Unfortunately, the thought slips out of you with a laugh.

"I always wanted to show you my room."

You freeze in the doorway, realizing what you've just said out loud.

"What?" Bucky asks from behind you.

"When I was younger, I meant. I didn't mean... I don't know why I said that, actually."

You turn around and see the look of amused confusion on his face, a small smirk inching from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck it. I had a major crush on you," you confess.

Bucky's eyebrows lift high.

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you were just awkward with everyone," he shrugs.

"Great, so you thought I was a total loser," you sigh.

"No..." he says quickly but takes a second to elaborate. "If it helps, I didn't think about you that way 'cause you were too young for me."

"Of course, you never thought about me," you brush off, trying not to let your younger self die too much inside.

You step into the room to create any amount of space from this conversation. But you instantly remember the countless hours you spent in here thinking about him. Staring out the window at his family's house hoping the catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," Bucky says. His hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn around to meet his eyes which oddly look darker, more intense now.

"I could see myself thinking about you now," he admits low.

You blink, your mouth is suddenly too dry to respond.

"I mean... look at you," he says so fondly that your heart could burst. And he looks you over again, his pupils dilating even more.

Is this really happening, you think.

His right hand hasn't moved from your shoulder. Boldly, you place a hand on his left forearm and you're right, his skin is still warm from the shower.

You breathe in sharply because just touching him, just standing this close for this long is something you were never lucky enough to get back then.

His eyes are still locked with yours and it's honestly so intense you can't look away even as you see him dip his head, lowering slowly to your lips. He waits, an inch from them, to see if this is okay. Of course, it's fucking okay.

You surge the last inch forward and kiss him harder than you anticipate. He stumbles a step back, in consequence grabbing onto your waist, and pushing forward. He walks you back toward the twin bed up against the wall.

When you fall back onto the mattress, it creaks from old age, but you couldn't care less. Because Bucky Barnes, your childhood crush, the extremely attractive neighbor next door, is crawling over you. And it's glorious, it's enough to make you arch up into him and moan.

He lets out a breathy laugh and then kisses you, his knee slides between your legs and presses down. You moan even louder. You're completely shameless, you are, but this is Bucky Barnes. You're not staying quiet for a second of this.

His mouth moves to your ear and he's kissing down your neck while his fingers slip under your shirt, rolling it up.

Your shirt is off and then you're pants are coming off too. You want to get him out of his clothes but his mouth finds the front of your panties and he's teasing you, mouthing at the fabric.

"Please," you whine.

He grins against your underwear and then slides the thin fabric off and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

When he touches you, he's not gentle. He goes right in and rubs your clit roughly but you're so turned on that it's like a jolt of electricity to your body, you leap up from the mattress.

He licks two fingers then and sinks them right inside you. Oh god, it's so easy because you're so wet.

"Fuck," he mutters, realizing this. He stares down, watching his fingers work inside you. Your skin boils endlessly.

He doesn't need to spend much time working you open and he must know that because it's not long before he pulls his fingers out and hurriedly works the button of his jeans open. He pulls open the fly and pushes them down when you sit up to get his shirt. You're not letting this happen without seeing that gorgeous chest again.

You remember so many summer nights when you got a glimpse of Bucky shirtless. Running through the sprinkles or coming home from a neighbor's pool. He was stunning, even back then, but now... oh lord, now he's filled out. He has a firm, thick chest and a set of perfect abs lining his torso. Because of course, he has a six-pack, you always fall for the most unattainable guys.

But somehow you have him, right here, in your very old, tiny twin bed.

You want to lick a long strip from his navel up to his neck but he doesn't give you the chance. Once his clothes are off, he pulls your legs over his waist and pushes inside you so fast you barely have time to prepare. You cling to him with your whole body, legs and arms. And you moan low.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he husks.

You tighten your hold around his neck, he looks up at you and kisses you. You're basically on his lap so start rolling your hips slowly, getting used to how big he feels inside you.

You push him back until he lies down. And then you're riding him. You're riding Bucky Barnes in your childhood bedroom on top of your pink comforter with yellow flowers.

This is your teenage dream come true and that realization plows through you, making you ride him even harder, snapping your hips as fast as you can over his cock. And it's enough that you get a moan out of him, a low gravelly groan that you immediately fawn over.

His fingertips dig into your skin as you keep riding him fast and hard. You know you're nearing the edge, your head falls with a whimper, you grip his shoulders tighter.

"Fuck, y/n. Come for me," he breathes.

And you lose all control the moment you hear that. Fuck, you come so hard.

"Oohhh, fuckkk," you wail and stop moving to let the orgasm crash through you.

Then his hands lift your ass, just enough so he can raise his hips and start fucking into you.

"Jesus," you hiss and scramble to hold onto him again.

He keeps fucking you, gaining speed and making your eyes roll back from the fact that your orgasm can't wane with his cock repeatedly slamming right into you.

He groans, squeezing the flesh on your ass now and you can tell he's close.

He curses under his breath and then he's coming and still fucking you so hard your vision's blurring.

When he finally slows down, he blows out a long breath. He releases his grip on your ass and closes his eyes, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.

You can feel his cock twitch one last time inside you. You carefully try to pull off him. He winces as you do, still sensitive. You lean down and kiss him, you can't help yourself.

He smiles when you break to let him catch his breath. Okay, he's totally allowed to smile when he's naked in your bed, you decide. You admire the sight for as long as he lets you.

"Well, fuck," he laughs.

"Yeah, fuck," you agree, smiling. "Not sure if I should thank you for your help yet."

He laughs. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Oh, you've done plenty," you tease and plant another kiss on his lips.

He smirks at you and runs his hands up your sides, gentle and light.

"I'll help you move the furniture," he says. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah, I need a few too," you say. "At least this bed is going out with a bang."

And you both laugh. Then you look at him and already remember what he said to you yesterday. You remember almost every word he's ever uttered to you.

"So, about that dinner," you say.

He smiles wide and just kisses you.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

He didn't mean to do it. He meant it, with every fucked-up fibre of his being he meant it, but he didn't mean to actually do it. 

Stiles had just—been so very fucking Stiles, in that stupid, irresponsible jump-head-first-into-the fray-on-everybody-else's-behalf kind of way that he has about him, and after the pack had neutralised the danger but everybody's veins still had more adrenaline than blood coursing though them, Derek felt—feels—so fucking livid, and so damn grateful, and so utterly, utterly muddled that he's grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and is pulling the kid's body into his own, hard, crashing their torsos together like a devastating highway collision, arms enveloping Stiles's shoulders as a crushed car bonnet wraps itself around a tree. 

Now—here, at a clearing in the trees on what has been Hale land for generations going back centuries, with Stiles in his space, and his nostrils, and in his fucking head—Derek is terrified. 

There's a fairly stilted, “Whoa, okay, alright, we're doing this, huh, big guy?” but then Stiles is relaxing into the hug. He sort of melts, actually, snaking long and wiry yet surprisingly strong arms around Derek's waist; so very warm, and alive, alive, alive.

“Stiles, you shouldn't have—why do you always have to—you could've fucking died!” he admonishes, although it doesn't come out half as harshly as he means and wants it to. 

Lost, Derek shoves his nose into Stiles's neck, and breathes.

Stiles lets him, because of course he does, cocking his head to the side to accommodate Derek's needs.

“Must be a day that ends in Y, huh, Der?” he answers, ever the class clown.

Derek quietly growls his annoyance and relief in equal measure, and even though he senses the rest of the pack has now gathered around them, and hating that he has an audience for this, he squeezes Stiles into him impossibly more.

Stiles wheezes comically, then jokes more, because humour is his default in any situation. “Why don't you ease up a bit there, buddy? Kinda need this work of art that I call a body in one piece if I'm ever gonna save your wolfy-ass again, oh alpha, my alpha.”

Derek shuts him up with a slick lick to the jugular. The kid shivers beautifully, but even Derek's tongue doesn't keep him quiet for long. Only Stiles Stilinski could ramble incessantly with a werewolf at his throat. 

“Okay, shit, that—ahhhhhhh, that tickles, Fido! Do I need to get the collar and chain on y—oh my fucking god!”

Derek clamps his jaws around the most exquisite throat he's ever seen, smelled, dreamed about, and growls out a warning sound that causes the betas to back off and Stiles to go weak at the knees.

Mine, he thinks loudly.

After a few moments of Derek gnawing on Stiles's throat, once they're alone in the preserve, other than the nocturnal animals and eery sound of the wind picking up from the west, Derek releases his jaws' hold on the sheriff's boy—the boy who runs with wolves; little red riding hoodie; the best human Derek's ever known—and soothes the purpling mark with a lingering press of his lips.

“Oh!” is amazingly all Stiles has got—although Derek can satisfyingly smell Stiles's arousal, his wolf now howling inside of him at the delicious scent.

“Yeah, oh,” he answers, after trying his level best to calm the feral instinct he has to pull them both down into the undergrowth and mate the boy.

He finally pulls away from Stiles, but doesn't release him from his grip entirely. Fire-red irises find big, brown doe eyes, and a smirk that Derek wants to lick right off Stiles's face and replace with a look of pure ecstasy.

“Stop doing stupid things,” he demands.

Begs. 

“Yeah, no, probably never gonna—oomph!” 

Derek kisses Stiles, kisses him like it's the end of the fucking world because he's realised that every time Stiles puts his own life in danger, it feels like it might be.

Stiles doesn't hesitate this time, though. He kisses Derek right back like he gets it.

Now found, Derek takes, and he takes, and he takes.

Stiles kisses like nobody else in existence, Derek is sure of it; he is earth and wind, fire and water.

Fucking elemental. 

When he presumably needs to breathe, Stiles tears his lips away from Derek's—swollen and blood-red—and Derek can't help the whine that escapes his. Their foreheads bump as they both pant, attempting to settle as they shake with post-fight waning nerves and a feverish desire.

Stiles says, “How ‘bout if you keep doing that, I'll get myself a bigger bat?”

Derek both hates and loves the smile that spreads across his face like a rash, entirely of its own volition. 

“How about next time, you just wait for me?” 

“Deal,” Stiles grins and kisses Derek again, and Derek hopes it's the kind of deal that's forever.

.

for @greyhavenisback—love yew, love <3 (unedited, soz!)

.

now edited and on ao3 HERE

[animementrash]

Things that make him blush

Character: Levi Ackerman Tags: Headcannons, implied close relationship with reader, no pronouns used for reader, non proofread, just some self indulgent shit. A/N: The Levi brainrot is going strong, sometimes I wonder why I write most of my stuff about him when theorically he isn't my top #1 anime crush (theorically). I think this has to do more about the fact that I kin him a little and by imagining pampering him somehow means pampering myself. I don't know, there's just something about him that makes me feel calm and warm inside. Anyways, hope you like it! and as always, thank you for reading! ♥

Complimenting his hands and/or hair.

He rarely gets compliments about his appearance, let alone about something so trivial as his hair or hands. When you mention how he’s got the prettiest hands in the scouts or how his hair is always so neat, he’ll just look away embarrassed and mumble a “thanks” while his cheeks turn pink.

Calling him “pretty”.

Never in his life has he been called pretty. He may have heard here and there someone calling him handsome or attractive, but pretty? Not once. His brain freezes when you call him pretty for the first time because, what do you mean he’s pretty? For him something pretty is a flower or maybe a sunset, not him. But when you say that word so tenderly and full of love to describe him it makes his heart swell and his eyes teary.

Noticing small details about his appearance.

Him being so meticulous applies not only to his surroundings but also his persona, so when you mention how his cravat is always sitting so neatly on his neck or how the collar of his shirt is always so crisp and perfectly ironed, he feels seen and it makes his cheeks blush in appreciation. Not that he will ever mention it.

Talking into his ear.

Whether is a silly joke you come up with during a meeting or an important memo that no one should hear besides him, if you get close to him and whisper into his ear all his muscles will tense and a shiver will run down his spine, there’s something about being this close to you that makes his heartbeat run wild and his cheeks blush furiously.

Touching him slightly.

Nothing will melt his heart more than casual touch; the kind of mindless, unintentional touch you may do like when you’re passing by and he’s on your way so you gently place a hand on his shoulder to let him know you’re passing through; Or if he’s too busy reading a document and in order to get his attention you squeeze his bicep softly. This kind of interactions make him a blushing mess and he almost always has to excuse himself before you notice how red his face is.

Look at him without him knowing until there’s eye contact.

Something about him looking your way and noticing you’ve been looking at him for a while make his stomach feel full of butterflies and his ears turn red with embarrassment; it isn’t the kind of was-I-being-weird embarrassment but more of a they’re-looking-at-me kind of embarrassment, he feels seen and it makes him nervous.

Do a random act of service for him.

Tell him you’ve done one of his assigned tasks before he gets the chance to do it and he’ll melt right before your eyes; especially if it’s something he hates, like dealing with the new recruits or sweet-talking a visitor so they can donate to the scouts; Though his reaction is not only reserved for big actions like those, it is more about you taking some of your time to help him, that’s what make his heart flutter and his cheeks burn.

Touching him in areas that may not be too common to do so.

This isn’t related to any kind of erotic or suggestive touch, it is more about you touching his thigh while helping him with his ODM gear, holding his hand when he helps you get up or rubbing his ankle when he complains about landing wrong on his feet; This is about you touching any part of his body that isn’t usually touched by anyone else but him. There’s something about feeling someone else’s hands on those parts of his body that make him stammer a bunch of nonsense before almost running away nervously.

[musicallisto]

· · · · ♡ IF (SAINZ WIN == TRUE) (cs55)

… starring carlos sainz x f!engineer!reader ... 4.4k words ... in which carlos is an effusive, self-assured lad to every member of his team... except ferrari's head software engineer, making her wonder if he secretly hates her guts. ... based on this request ... warnings for language (minor) ... my first ever (posted) fic for carlos aaaaa (i have written A Lot More about this man because he occupies my every waking hour, but i shan't share it yet). in honor of me missing my communication networks final last week i made the reader a software engineer, but you would Never catch me willingly coding anything in c++ outside of my mandated assignments. no not even for carlos sainz jr. i have morals. this is open for part 2 if you guys enjoy it <3

He speaks the language of princes.

It's not in anything he says, no, he's much too industrious to waste time boasting, but rather in all that he doesn't. Carlos walks into the Ferrari motorhome, with that good-natured smile and that slightly disheveled hair from the morning's cycling session, and heads bow. Not out of plight, or even obligation, but mostly because it's hard not to. His warm greetings to everyone—Ciao's and even Come stai?'s to his team members strolling down the hallways before the weekend—, his keen interest in remembering little things about engineers' and photographers' lives, his nonchalant stride around the parc fermé all force camaraderie at least; reverence to most.

Wherever the red car goes, Maranello or any other corner of the world, religion follows, and though Carlos Sainz has never quite fit into the nooks they keep for their idols—their walls are carved for Monégasque shoulders—, he's at least always carried the air of a rebel leader on unforgving land.

But if Carlos is Ferrari's bastard prince, then clearly you are a subject he would not go to war for.

Or so he makes you think, once again, on that hot Singaporean afternoon.

You hadn't meant to interrupt, really, but with only one hour to go before FP1, you needed to talk to Riccardo Adami; something about the software updates, optimization of the data acquisition systems to account for Marina Bay's sweltering heat—run for half a second too long, overheat half a degree too much, and everyone's calculations would be going to hell. So of course you'd corrected it, supervised a brand new version of your code for the weekend, for that tenth of a Celsius; competition drove you. Almost just as much as those solar eyes boring into you when you walk into the room.

"Riccardo, about the softw—oh. Carlos. Hi," you timidly trail off when Carlos' eyes meet yours.

The room gets quiet, and it is only then that you notice how much space his laugh takes. Usually, you would've recognized the accent from outside the door, the boisterous voice regaling the Fifty-fives with another funny story—how could you not, when it sends shockwaves down your stomach? He seems to have been in an animated conversation with his race engineer, but as you get closer to the two men you notice the crinkles lengthening Carlos' eyes are fading with his smile. You aren't sure he's even said hi back.

"We've changed the code for acquisition, but some loops could still cause problems with overheating, particularly the engine oil temperature sensors…" you explain, though half your attention is directed to your peripheral vision, in which Carlos sways on his two feet, averting your gaze at all costs.

But you're not a college girl with a crush, you're Scuderia Ferrari's head software engineer and so you go on with your precisions to Riccardo. What to expect during free practice, how to overshoot any nonessential sensors that might fuck up the data analysis... until, mid-sentence, Carlos excuses himself awkwardly, pats Ricky on the shoulder, and walks out of the room.

You will your face into not betraying the sudden ache in your throat. How he simply acted like you weren't there... didn't even inquire about the updates. About the race. About your flight, about how much you loved Singapore's twinkling lights, about... you.

"Xavi and Charles know this already, but we really gotta test it all now before it gets cooler for FP2," you conclude with a too-hard swallow. Back firmly turned to the door Carlos just disappeared out of.

Riccardo thanks you, offers his own insight, some banalities about the risks of rain—no, you shouldn't consider them banalities. Nothing, on a Friday, is a banality anymore; yet everything is when you remember how Carlos' entire face shuts close when you're around, how his tone quietens down, how he repeatedly and stubbornly conceals all his rays of brazenness from you.

Does he hate you? Despise you? Are you not worth his effrontery?

This is ridiculous. You're not a college girl with a crush, you're a damn senior member of the team with responsibilities and he doesn't owe you anything more or less than you him—

"Riccardo," you neither ask nor plead. "Has Carlos... said anything about me?"

"About you? Like what?"

"I don't know... but you did see he just... left while I was in the middle of talking, right? And he looked annoyed as soon as I came in." And for all that's holy, try to pass this off as mere politeness and not a heartache that is eating you alive.

"Maybe he was just bored."

"So I'm boring?"

"No," Riccardo wheezes, in uncharacteristically high spirits for the conversation. "But I've worked with a ton of drivers, and you know, they're all the same. Less time discussing boring analytics is more time they spend in the sim. Or on track. What, you think he's angry at you or something?"

"I just... don't get why he's always so guarded and distant with me but so outgoing and confident with you guys. Charles isn't like that either. It makes no sense. We're a team, all of us."

The Italian looks at you for long seconds, amusement noticeable on his features, and you would shake him up and tell him to stop giving you those pity eyes if you lacked the tiniest bit of respect for the man; instead, you frown and cross your arms.

"He'll be in a good mood tonight when we top free practice," Riccardo assures you before you can ask him if he needs anything else. "and even better tomorrow after getting pole. You can talk to him then if you want."

A smile creeps its way on your lips without you conjuring it. There it is, that loyal veneration that only men and women of the Scuderia possess. Something in those southern eyes Carlos shares with legend has made you religious, too.

"I'll hold you to that... we could all use a Singapore miracle."

Singapore is a miracle.

Surely any other team would scoff at the word, bragging that a pole position has nothing to do with miracles, that it's all meticulous teamwork and endless iterations on calculators, but Ferrari is deeply supersitious at its core. You—the centenarian team, its red-hot beating heart—don't shy away from thanking divine intervention. Maybe that's the reason why it still works.

After Carlos' last pole in Monza, the whole Scuderia had dared to dream of something different, a glimmer of scarlet in the season's overwhelming orange. Of course, an uncatchable Max had put a dampen on the fervent Tifosi's mood, but the formidable hope machine had revved back to life...

and now it's roaring in Marina Bay.

Leclerc's side of the garage claps for a hard-earned P3, but it's the Spaniard's team that erupts into cheers and rushes out into the pitlane to congratulate their hero. You stare at his lap time on your monitor with a grin—1:30.984, not even a tenth faster than his teammate—as cheerful screams, in Italian and Spanish, fill the garage; they get louder when Carlos walks back inside, grinning ear to ear and not even bothering to dodge the strong-arm pats on his head and back.

"Twice in a row, cazzo!"

"And this time you won't have Verstappen underfoot!"

"Perfect lap, Carlos, that was a perfect lap..."

"Grazie a tutti," Carlos beams, fire suit down to his waist, running clammy hands through his hair—he parts the red sea as he walks deeper into the garage, close to where you are. "I think we all did a very good job today, and now we gotta finish the job tomorrow..."

He laughs with the mechanics, a sun of fire and victory casting its rays onto the tarmac, and maybe it's the euphoria of the moment, but a sudden wind of courage rushes through your blood, and you walk up to him.

"Bravo, Carlos."

Your voice hits him like the purr of an engine in the ruckus, overshadowing any other sound; he whips his head in your direction, shiny eyes colliding with yours, and for the first time you don't back off but hold them in awe, and his smile doesn't fade, but rather shifts. To surprise, or... coyness?

"You were incredible out there, we're all so so proud of you," you praise, and the more you look at him the wider your smile grows, and the quieter the rest of the world gets.

"Thank you, Y/N," he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand fiddling with the hanging sleeves of his fire suit. "We... I couldn't have done this without you. Because, you know, the overheating, or what you were saying to Ricky before? I didn't understand everything, but at least I didn't cook to death."

Coyness? In Carlos Sainz? When he's still sweaty and panting from qualifying first? What a bizarre sight, one that makes you giggle.

The way your nose scrunches up beneath sparkling eyes is so endearing, Carlos almost feels his breath hitch in his throat, almost reaches out to lightly brush your arm, hold the steady coolness of it.

"Great, that was what we were going for, pretty much," you reply, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to touch your arm and changed his mind, but...

you bury the idea before a craving for his warmth can nestle in your chest.

"Great," he repeats. "So, I'll... see you later," and with that he leaves you there, stranded in the middle of the garage, to be lauded by the press and fans.

You'd be lying if you said his shadow disappearing out the backdoor as quickly as it had come doesn't slice a gash in your heart—always whisked away to some important obligation, and you, like everyone else, duty-bound to pick up the pieces behind him. But this time around the cut doesn't run as deep, doesn't bleed as red; because for the first time in months Carlos talked to you, joked with you, and looked the tiniest bit glad to be doing so.

If that's how good of a mood a pole puts him in... then clearly you'd better make damn sure he wins this race.

Ferrari is deeply superstitious at its core. Maybe that much is true in any sport—when victory eludes you, athletes find obscure laws to trick themselves into believing they still retain control—, but a team so old, on which glory has rained so often, does not withstand the passage of time without a few pillars of faith. And so it makes sense that Ferrari drivers, of all people, would have their pre-race traditions.

Leclerc plays the piano on Saturday nights; you hear him every time you pass by the team hotel's lounge, his melancholy tracks grounding you in a precise time and place. Now the car is out of bounds, the comfort of your object-oriented programming and optimized lines of code off-limits; now's the time for withdrawal and rest.

Typically, you like to hang out in the lounge while Charles plays, trying to distract yourself with a book or simply basking in the music. The predictable, calculated flow of Charles' arpeggios soothes you, like lines of code running one after the other. So does the Monégasque driver's easy conversation. Although it doesn't shoot butterflies in your belly like Carlos' does... but you're not supposed to play favorites.

This Grand Prix eve is just like any other, save for the unordinary trepidation that carpets the hotel. With one of their own sitting on pole, it's obvious strategists struggle more than usual to drop the words "tire management" and "pit stops". Eager to escape the nervousness, you excuse yourself from the dinner table, and make your way to the lounge.

Charles is already there, if the usual pieces echoing in the distance at dessert are any indication, and you barely even get lost in the elegant halls before you find the lounge... though there is no piano to be heard. Maybe this hotel has two music rooms—maybe Charles went to bed early—or maybe...

maybe he's sitting on the piano stool and chatting with Carlos, wet and sleepy from his evening shower.

Neither driver notices you at first, and you stop dead in your tracks, wondering if you should just leave. You wouldn't want to intrude—intrude on what, the rational part of your brain says, but with Carlos I always feel like I'm intruding on something bigger than myself, the rest of your body answers—, but you really enjoy this unspoken tradition with Charles... and, well, this is everybody's lounge, and...

"Y/N," Charles sees you eventually and beckons you over. "Sorry, I don't think there'll be a lot of music tonight, Carlos is distracting me."

"You could kick me out anytime," Carlos remarks good-naturedly, but you don't miss how he angles his body away from you ever so slightly. The sight sends a dagger through your heart. So he actually hates you then. So you didn't breach any barrier earlier at the circuit, didn't melt any ice. So he didn't look pleased and a little excited to be talking to you.

"That's okay, I'll just head to bed then—"

"Oh no no no," Charles interrupts, "come sit with us. I was trying to convince Carlos to give the piano a go, maybe you'll be more successful than me."

"Absolutely not, mate."

"Come on Carlos, it will relax you!"

"No, you're the musician, not me. One of us has to be the sportsman, no?"

Unsure, you flick between the two men, Charles' inviting face and Carlos, who's still doing everything he can to avoid looking at you in the eye. And then you decide—fuck it. You're just as much a member of the team as he is. He cannot drive you away with his... stupid cold shoulder tactics any longer.

You take a seat on the sofa opposite Carlos, and watch in half delight, half annoyance as he turns his shoulders away from you. Though his body language appears relaxed, one leg strewn across his knee and elbows hugging the backrest, he is, as usual, going to hell and beyond to not acknowledge your presence.

Charles has the merit of lightening the mood with his jokes and fan encounters of the day: some bizarre, some endearing, because he seemingly never has a boring day in the paddock. His easy laughter mixes with the distant voices down the halls when your attention drops—too fast, too soon, as always, it's irremediable—to Carlos, the soothing scent of his shampoo and the little droplets that run down his temple whenever he shakes his head in amusement... before you know it, you're staring again, eyes shining with undisclosed heartache. Something Charles sees, and recognizes very well, with a jot of curiosity.

Charles may not be the most perceptive when it comes to these things, but he is in love too, and he'd know the signs anywhere. That's why after a little while he lets silence blow his last words away like wind does the mist, and stands up from the piano stool.

"Well, I'm going to bed," he announces with an air of conniving finality, and he smiles his crooked smile at Carlos. "Gonna need all my energy to take the lead in turn 1."

This snaps you out of your reverie. Half-gone, you bid him goodnight at the same time as the Spaniard does, and you brace yourself for his own excuse... but it doesn't come. Carlos lazily watches as Charles leaves the lounge. You don't dare to move, as if your slightest sound could remind him you're there and trigger his fight.

You would've thought a tête-à-tête with you to be Carlos' worst nightmare... but he makes no sign of leaving. And sends solar flares up your chest and throat. "Whatever problem he's got with me, he'll have it sort it out with me like an adult" sounds much more intimidating when it's so plausible.

"You think he has the slightest chance of overtaking me in turn 1?" Carlos chuckles.

You look him straight in the eye and read no resentment, not even that sheepishness from before—just relaxed delight, and the slightest hint of reddened cheeks against tan, damp skin. It takes you a second, maybe even two, to realize there's no one else in the room. He's talking to you. Joking with you.

Why is the script running without error all of a sudden, even though you changed no variables?

"Maybe," you give a noncommittal shrug and a smile. "Why not? It all depends on you."

"He can lead the first lap if he wants. That will just make it more fun to cross the finish line ahead of him after."

"You better win this one, Sainz, because I..." you start, and midway through your sentence are hit by how absolutely ridiculous you're about to sound, but he's leaned in already, intrigued by your words, and his burning gaze and strong hands fiddling in his lap have you losing all notions of propriety. "I've... coded a little something for you. If you win. A surprise. It's not much, but... yeah."

Your whole face burns deep scarlet as you trail off... and the light in Carlos' eyes darkens, then goes out completely. His smile fades back to the usual professional grimace he reserves for you. Distant. Cold. He rises to his feet.

"I should get some sleep."

Terror strikes you. Incomprehension too.

"No, Carlos, wait."

He turns his head to your outstretched hand... your pleading eyes almost rip through his heart.

"Why do you dislike me so much?"

And then his shoulders slump, like crushed by an immense weariness, and he sighs, long and hard, before his gaze falls back to yours. Those big brown eyes, gentle, compassionate, and those fingers tapping against his thigh like they're waiting for an invisible cue to reach out for yours.

"... Can we talk about this after the race?" he says, shooting daggers through your stomach.

So he didn't deny it. Didn't reassure you, tell you it's all a misunderstanding, that he bears no ill will towards you, that you're imagining things as usual and that you two could be on the best of terms if you just got out of your head a little bit.

One more time, he's running away. Sweeping everything under the rug, for just one more session, one more race, hiding behind the excuse of concentration and professionalism.

But who are you to revoke him that? It's a damn good excuse. You need to win. He needs to win. Not be bothered about... interpersonal relationships while clipping walls.

"... Alright," you concede, voice and bones all broken, glistening under your frozen skin. "But if it's something I've done, then I'm sorry. I really do... enjoy your company. And you."

"It's not something you've done," he speaks quietly. Gosh, your frailty in this moment—you, so proud and unshakable on the pit wall, so dedicated and thorough on TV, so immeasurably devoted to Ferrari, to Charles, to him... "Or, well, I guess not directly..."

If he looks into your confused, imploring eyes one more second, almost brushes your arm with his one more time, then he's done for. But he thinks he knows this already.

"I don't dislike you," he starts speaking and as soon as he opens his mouth he knows there's no stopping himself now, so he blurts it all out as quickly as he can to get it over with and hopefully bury some meaning in the pits of his accent. "Not at all. In fact I really like you. I think you're gorgeous, and smart, and clever, and fun, and every day I wish I could spend more time with you outside of races and get to know you better but then I remember that can never happen and it's so frustrating and I have the hardest time concentrating. So I just avoid you. It's easier."

Silence thick as a thundercloud tethers you to one another. He runs a hand over his face, sighing deep, and you blink. Once, twice.

You've always prided yourself on your brains—not everyone gets to be in charge of all the computing for a Formula 1 car—but right now, you are all utterly lost.

"Carlos, I... I don't get it." Or maybe you do, heart thumping in your ears, but you're too scared you might be wrong.

"In any other life I would've asked you out on a date." This time he speaks more slowly, more purposefully, too. Like he's imbuing every syllable with the depth of his confession. "But it kills me that it can't be this one."

"... Why not?" you tentatively ask after an instant, feigning not to notice how his hand is now resting on the back of your sofa, right next to your ear and neck.

"Because you're a senior engineer! That would be like... like dating Ricky. Even if you're much prettier than Ricky. But you don't need to tell him that," he adds with a nervous laugh, which you mirror; though you fall silent as soon as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, right where your collar ends, millimeters away from your skin. His body's warring with his own words... one wants to resist, the other to give in. "What if I leave Ferrari? That's a crazy conflict of interest."

"That's a silly idea, you're not leaving Ferrari anytime soon. Are you?"

"I don't know, it's... hypothetically... you know what I mean," he exhales in defeat. His hand clasps a little tighter on your shoulder, his scent dizzying, closer than ever before. Can he feel your frantic heart thumping underneath your skin? If he keeps licking his lips like this, will he sense your breathing getting more erratic?

"I do. But... the problem is I like you too, Carlos."

If embers could burn back to life, light a hearth out of nothingness... they wouldn't shine as bright as Carlos' eyes just then.

"Don't mess with me."

"I'm not messing with you. Why wouldn't I like you?"

"Because you're not supposed to have a favorite."

"I won't tell Fred if you don't."

He laughs, a brittle but adorable little thing, like a small bird taking its first flight. If you could hear the sound more often, see that bashful smile on his handsome face more every day... you wouldn't need any other prince to die in war for.

His hand runs down your arm, his thumb lightly caressing your skin through the fabric of your shirt before he grabs your shaky hand in his.

"Now's not the best time, but... I think we've got to have an important conversation after the race tomorrow," his deep, soft tone pacifying you just as much as the abstract shapes he traces on the back of your hand.

"After you win, you mean."

"Right. After I get my surprise, no?"

"After you win," you repeat with a grin, and he squeezes your hand, smiling too. Something, deep down, tells him he'll win regardless of the race result.

"Cosa diavolo sta facendo?"

Even in spite of the roaring crowd and the bellowing V8s speeding down the straight, the dumbfounded voices around the pit wall come to you clear as day.

"Russell 1.4 behind Lando," Ricky, sitting on the other side of Vasseur, speaks into his headset.

The team principal keeps quiet, eyes fixed on the cascade of numbers and brackets on your screen. He understands before the rest of the wall what his driver is doing; and as you relay all the information you get to the race engineers, you understand it too.

"Lando .8 behind, .8 behind with DRS—Russell no DRS... Copy that."

He's doing it on purpose. Keeping Norris just close enough to shield him from the Mercs while making sure he can't catch up. You'd laugh in triumph and disbelief if you weren't gritting your teeth so damn hard, heart on the verge of exploding as the last laps tick out in a blur.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds, and the night sky over Marina Bay will explode in crimson lights...

Mechanics spring to their feet and climb the wall to the track, bumping their fists in the air. Cheers, claps, exclamations, a bouquet of red roses swaying in the wind to greet its champion at the finish line. And then, the unmistakable roar of a racecar speeding past the chequered flag at three hundred kilometers an hour. Liberation.

You spring to your feet right as the fireworks go off, yelling to the sky. Carlos won. Carlos won! Your Carlos—in the middle of Red Bull's flawless season...

"¡Vamos Fred! ¡Vamos Ricky!" Flashes of red and gold pass his high spirits by, diligently braking into the first corner.

He laughs, he screams it all out, unclenching all his muscles, woozy from the G's, from the adrenaline, from the win... from you, watching him from the pit wall. From the memory of your skin against his, your adoring eyes and the formidable lightness inside his chest that has him feeling like he's the king of the world.

In a few minutes, he'll be posing with his trophy and the team in front of his P1 plaque for the group photo, and he'll drench you in champagne—your lively laughter will fill his heart with the gold of medals. And later in the evening, before the afterparty, he'll pull you aside and tell you maybe this victory has made him reckless, and he'll kiss you senselessly like a prize he fought for.

For now, though, he's nodding his head at Lando who gave him a congratulatory wave from his car when his on-board screen lights up with an unexpected message. Glowing red letters read, "Great job, smooth operator! 🌶️" Laughter escapes him as small virtual fireworks go off on his screen... and he presses the radio button on his steering wheel.

"Did she have one of these ready for Charles too?"

A few seconds of white noise, and then, your mischievous voice, dripping with joy.

"You know me, Carlos. Never play favorites."

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Naruto boys random headcanons──☆*:・ﾟ

Sfw

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

Hes lazy at home. Not because he’s tired he just wants you to take care of him, but when you call him a baby for all these requests he gets mad “I AM NOT A BABY! I AM A GROWN MAN! NOW SPOON FEED ME!”

He tries to prank you but fails, your too smart to fall for it. He always tries to trip you in public while walking and every time he is the one on the floor and your the one laughing some how-

He likes the idea of drawing and being an artist he just can’t draw. He can only draw stick people with different hair, one time he tried to draw you, gave up and instead gave you a picture of a stick person with your hair. It’s now on the fridge LOL

He tries to act cool around his friend with you but just makes a fool of himself. “Yeah this my bae so what?” “Yeah I’m his bae and he’s my baby, my big, soft, smiley baby!” His soul is now crushed and his friends all laughing

He sleeps like a ANIMAL. he full on can’t sleep normally, You both go to bed the same time, one of you is always gunna wake up on the floor, mostly you. Then he wakes up like “why you on the floor?”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He may seem cool but he gets very flustered. He doesn’t cover his face though he just closes his eyes so he doesn’t get more flustered and so he can ignore the fact that he is red

He CANT Dance, don’t EVER take him dancing. It’s not because he’s bad at dancing he just never learn. If there is music he will bop his head to the beat though, if you try to get him to dance he will freak out and freeze. He just doesn’t like it ok!

His waist is weirdly sensitive, you could barely touch his waist and he will start giggling. He isn’t ticklish anywhere else but if you take a feather to his waist he will start LAUGHING

He will kick your feet when he wants attention. If you guys are out to dinner with friends he will kick you under the table to get your attention, he thinks it’s funny until you fight back and stomp on his foot. He made you kiss his pain away at home, atleast he got attention LOL

He forgets the silliest things one time he forgot how to tie a knot so anything he needs to tie like his clothes or shoes you had to do for him. You don’t know if he actually forgot or if he just wanted to be babied-

Itachi🥀-*

He can’t handle heatwaves. If it’s over 90 degrees he’s gone for. One time you woke up on a heat wave morning waiting for him to wake up and walk out but he never did, you went to find him and he was in bed, sprawled out, shirt and covers off soaked in sweat. You had to rub ice on him to get him conscious -

Unlike naruto, he likes drawing and can ACTUALLY DRAW, although he can only draw plants but he doesn’t mind he likes plants! He will draw you flowers instead of buying you some which is like equally as cute~

He has very sensitive eyes. Like how he can’t handle heat he cant handle the sun either. If it isn’t cloudy he will have to squint to keep his eyes from hurting. When you told him to wear sun glasses he said “I still want to see you clearly though love…”

He’s not a big fan of skin care but he likes those face roller things. He bought one just so you could use it on him, he likes that it’s cold but also massaging!

He sneezes like a girl- he has the cutest, most petite sneeze you’ve ever heard out of a man which is cute and very funny. He doesn’t even realize it either “a-choo!” “That was crazy out of character” “huh?”

Kakashi🍃-*

He’s allergic to cats, he likes cats sure but he never hangs around them because he’s allergic. You didn’t know that and one day you brought a stray inside and he instantly turned puffy (poor thing)

Once he gets home and discards the mask he puts lip tint on. He has pink lips for that reason. When he first puts it on he will find you and kiss you just to leave a mark before waiting 10 minutes then whipping it off

He needs reading glasses but never uses them, then complains to you when he gets a headache as if you didn’t tell him to put them on

He takes a lot of baths. If he showers it bound to end up a bath. And he doesn’t care if your using the bathroom if he wants a bath he’s gunna make a god Danm bath. One time You were just washing your face and he busted in the door and ran to the bathtub, You washed your face as fast as you could-

He is EXTREMELY tired when he first wakes up, he doesn’t move for like 20 minutes so if he needs to get up and do stuff your gunna have to make him, like actually you’ll have the carry him out of bed.

Kiba🐺-*

He bites his nails from stress so you have made it a habit to smack his hand away when he does. It worked since all you have to do is tap him softly and he will stop. He’s so glad you help him get over bad habits

He decorated akamarus ears when he’s bored, one time you walk in on him giggling like a little girl and akamarus ears were pulled together in a little ponytail! You joined in on the fun🤞

He comes back from a casual walk along a complete mess, you have no idea how but one day he came back with half a bush stuck on his leg. He always cleans up though!

He sometimes transforms akamaru into himself to prank his friends or you, mostly you. One time akamaru came up to you as Kiba and started licking your face “EW OH MY GOD?!” “AUUFF AUF!” “KIBA YOUR NOT FUNNY”

He always has tan cheeks and nose. Compared to the rest of his face, his cheeks are cute and golden!

Shikamaru🀄️-*

He lets you win at intelligents based games to make you feel better. Except one time he actually tried and lost. He’s convinced you cheated

His hair is straight but gets very frizzy if not cared for. (You care for it since he’s lazyy)

He draws on himself when bored, mostly just trippy designs like swirls and stuff. Will also let you draw on him, only if your good tho he doesn’t want “bad drawing” on him😔

He has a box FULL of hair ties and will notice if you take one. “This one you literally stole from me?” “Don’t care put it back!!!”

He gets Freezingly cold at night, like really really cold. When he snuggles up to you to warm up you could feel how cold he really is and you don’t understand how since you are both under covers-

Shino🪲-*

He keeps bugs in the house so they can watch over anything, they are basically his security cameras-

His hair is so cute and wavy! Also gets very frizzy because of the texture like Shika. He also makes you take care of it, he just really likes you touching his hair

He gives you bugs as gifts, not like freaky beetles but cute little bugs like lady bugs or fuzzy green caterpillars. You find it cute that he gives you things that mean so much to him

He shockingly has a sensitive neck, only to you though. Bugs can crawl all over it and he doesn’t move but if you try to kiss it he gets chills. Also shockingly he has really soft skin idk maybe he sheds skin (IM JOKING)

When he gets home and can finally undress he lets you take his glasses off since you love his eyes and he loves that you love them. He gets insecure about it sometimes!

Neji🎋-*

He speak really highly and intelligently but he’s honestly a little dumb sometimes, or maybe he’s just dumb with you to be silly we don’t know

The only jewelry he really wears is an ankle bracelet you got him

He loves hair charms, he likes decorating his hair! He likes putting clips and braids in it, sometimes even put color streaks in it if he wants to be festive

He really likes pottery and making things out of clay, he’s very creative and he finds clay the perfect outlet. He even makes pots for you!

He has a flower garden that NO ONE is allowed in. He treats them like they’re his baby’s, because they are! He’s favorite plant he has is his cactuses.

Lee🥋-*

He’s extremely energetic and powerful yet he has asthma, he denies it. But if it’s really hot outside he runs out of breath REALLY fast which makes you worry

He’s scared of spiders you kill the spiders for him or he runs! If you trap a spider and chase him with it he will almost start crying (he will start crying) he’s ashamed to admit spiders are his weakness

He wears mascara, he gotta make them lashes voluminous yk. He stole his mascara from tenten too. You made him give it back to her and bought him his own

It’s pretty obvious but he is FLEXIBLE! Backbend, splits anything he can do. You thought he broke his spine onces-

He’s not much of a plant guy but he has the TINIEST succulent in your room that he cares for, every other plant he has had died but not that one~

Choji🍥-*

He loves finger painting and is actually really good at it, you’d think it was made by a professional and an actual paint brush but no it was Choji and his finger paint😭

His hair is so thick most hair ties he uses break. He has to use hair needles instead because it’s the only thing that holds if he wants his hair up for a while

He thinks pillow fights are actually entertaining he could have a pillow fight with you all day and never get bored. He goes crazy if he’s over at someone’s house and they suggest pillow fights!

He loves bath bombs!!! He basically died when you run him a bath and put bath bombs in it, his favorite scent it lavender. Even if you didn’t add a bath bomb he loves when you make him baths he thinks its adorable

He paints your cheeks like his in your sleep, that’s his idea of a prank even though it’s basically him just being a cutie “look now your like me y/n!!”

Gaara⏳-*

He turns the black rings around his eyes to cat eyes sometimes. He looks ADORABLE with cat eyes. He sometimes even uses eye shadow too, if he can’t change it he thought might as well make it look cutee

He’s scared of mosquitos, he just doesn’t like bugs that can fly and go after human blood it freaks him out

He wears one of those scent bracelets and puts your signature scent in it so he always smells like you~

He gifts you plants all the time

He collect the silliest things, there are these cute little cat charms at a near by store and he’s working on collecting them all!

Kankuro🪆-*

Shockingly he really likes reading. He likes fiction books the most, he asks you for suggestions

He asks you what new make up design he should try, sometimes he just gives you the brush and lets you go wild. But you always make him look cute~

He fidgets with the ears on his hat when he’s bored. It rubbed off on you so now if he’s around you with his hat on you start messing with them-

He steals your clothes and hides them so you have no choice but to ask to use his for the day. After the day is over he comes up to you smiling and hands you your missing clothes “found em!” “By found em do you mean took them out of the hiding spot?” “Yeah-”

He paints his nails either black, pink or purple. He also lets you paint them, it honestly just ends up a mess. He would totally whip nail polishes on your nose~

[simping-overload]

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴇᴇʀ - ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

a/n: showing my love for my favorite Greek God of all time, Hermes<3 this is a multichapter fanfic.

trigger warnings: animal hunting so animal death. Religious themes and practices

synopsis: You never thought helping out a lost hobo would end up with you in the loving embrace of a god.

『read on ao3』

『prev chapter ⟺ next chapter』

disclaimer: hermes is based on his BOZ, EPIC, and canon mythology. I don't really know how ancient greece actually was or how hunting works so take this with a grain of salt! It is just fanfiction :)

You come from a village that has been long-term worshippers of the goddess, Artemis. Each year, the village holds a festival, Laphria¹. With this festival, of course, comes activities, the most important being the hunt. Where 3 main selected participants, who were allowed to bring at the maximum two others along the hunt with them, they were to hunt down a large stag, whoever was to bring back the largest wins.

The reward would entail being given a large sum of money and being allowed to worship the goddess to the fullest extent, which means you'd get to say your prayers before everyone, including the high elders.

This year, you were finally chosen for the hunt, much to the joy of your family and friends. You were their best hunter and tracker, able to find an animal with ease regardless of how little the evidence that has been left behind.

After passing a familial trail—hunting a snow hare in the middle of snowstorm— you were gifted a beautiful pup who you named Winston². The two of you were jointed at the hip. There wasn't a place you'd go without him. This included the hunt.

You decided to bring two of your beloved friends along, Damian and Agnes. You set off at dawn, racing into the trees on the back of your horses, Winston running ahead as the scout.

Agnes and Damian were chattering away behind you as you looked over the map. You wanted to try and plan out all paths you could safely use.

"So...do you think if I win this, it would get Corinna at the very least interested in me?" Damian questions, fiddling with the horses' reins. He had a crush on Corinna ever since they were teens, spending most of his time trying to impress her— which failed considering he always made a fool of himself.

Agnes, bless her, rolling her eyes as she listens to Damian rant, just as the millions times before. She's been friends with him since they were babies. Both of their mothers were the best of friends, so it makes sense they were too.

You didn't come into the picture until you were about 7 or so, moving here to take care of your grandmother after she got sick.

You met Agnes when your mother invited hers over, and then her mother invited Damian's over. You all were just placed in front of each other and expected you all to click automatically. Thankfully, you did, and you've been friends ever since.

"Probably, but you need to remember Nikolaos is in this competition too, I know he's been desperate to get her hand as well." She pauses as her horse jumps over a fallen tree. She looks back at Damian with a blank stare and continues. "And also this could've been avoided if you just grew a pair of balls and confessed."

"I can't just do that— I need to get her attention first. Maybe we'll find that white stag the elders ramble about." Damian giggles as he pictures Corinna leaping into his arms and saying yes to his proposal. He was such a lovesick fool.

"Or maybe she's already interested and is waiting for you to confess. I've heard its custom in her family for the woman to wait for the man to ask, no matter how long it takes." You chime in, not looking up from your map.

"Wait wh—" Damian is cut off when a large gray wolf jumps from out of the trees, holding a white hare in its mouth.

Your horse, startled, bucks you off its back, sending you to the forest floor. You're now eye level with the wolf, noticing how its eyes are an unnatural golden color.

You and the wolf stared each other down for a moment before it huffed and leaps back into the trees. Agnes drops down from her horse and rushes to your side, while Damian goes off to fetch your horse.

You snapped out of your daze when you felt something wet touched your cheek. It was Winston, licking at you and whining in concern.

You pat his head to calm him, and you lean on Agnes for support as you stand. She brushes the dirt and leaves off your back.

"Hey, you okay?" She questions, her freckled face is laced with concern.

You feel fine, a little sore, but nothing you hadn't been through before. There was something about that wolf that just stuck with you, "Yeah, I'm fine. That wolf, though... its eyes were like pure gold."

"Maybe it's one of Lady Artemis' wolves? It wouldn't be the first time she's watched over the hunts." She suggests, steppingaway from you once you've steady yourself. Damian comes back with your now calm horse, handing you the reins.

"I suppose? Though I never heard of a wolf having pure gold eyes before... Anyway, Winston, did you see anything?

Winston barks in reply, his tail wagging before he runs off. You mount your horse and begin to follow him. You motion the other two to do the same.

Winston leads you to what looks to be a temple, one that seems to have been neglected for years. Nature has taken over, vines have trickled up and wrapped themselves around the columns, and grass and flowers grow from the cracks of the floor. The usual pure white of the marble has faded into a off white tan color with a thin layer of moss across the surface.

"Let's make sure the area is safe for us to set up camp here. Agnes, check out the back of the temple, and Damian, you'll start with the outer perimeter. I'll start with the inside. Regroup to the front once you're sure no one else has been here."

Agnes nods, and Damian gives an alright in response before going back into the forest. You dismount your horse, tying it to a loose fence post. You make your way up the cracked stone steps and into the temple.

The rays of sun lit the inside of the temple, illuminating the illustrations that line the walls and ceilings. Going off of the winged shoes on the god that was illustrated, this was a temple of Hermes. You wonder if there was ever a village that was here before yours that were worshippers of him.

Your search around the temple came up empty, with no human activity. Only animals and plants seemed to have been inside. You leave the temple in time to see with Damian and Anges coming back.

"There doesn't look like there's anyone for miles, only animals. I saw the cutest fox kits." Anges says.

"Same here, though I wasn't blessed with seeing any cute aniamls today." Damian pouts, dismounting his horse, kneeling down next to Winston to ruffle his fur, "Expect for this bugger." Winston barks and licks the man's hand.

You chuckle, "Looks like it's safe to set up camp here, we'll need to find something to eat, so I'll try and find something for us. You two just set up camp and remember to use the horn if anything happens."

They give you mock salutes in response before they begin to take the supplies off the horses and into the temple. You mount yours and whistle for Winston to follow as you trot off into the woods.

It doesn't take you long to hunt something down. After finding some boar tracks, Winston leads the rest of the way to the creature. Upon finding it, you ready your bow, steadying yourself on the moving horse as you focus your aim on the boar.

You suck in a breath, drawing back your arrow and whispering a short prayer to Artemis as you relase. The arrow pierces through the side of the boar, straight to the heart, quick and painless.

Suddenly, you hear a loud scream, and off in the distance, you can see someone running towards you with what looks like a... deer? Chasing after them. Winston stands alert, ears perked, and focused on the person getting closer to you. You hold your reins tight while Winston moves in front of the horse.

The person turned out to be Nikolaos. You spot his signature ginger hair showing from under his hood before he trips over a log and face plants in front of you. He doesn't try to exchange pleasantries as he scrambles up to keep running.

The deer came soon after, gracefully hopping over the log. It glanced at you for a meer moment, giving you enough time to see its golden eyes. The same color from the wolf.

You hop down off your horse, making your way to the boar.

You are for sure this time that it wasn't Artemis. Maybe some other god?

You wrap the boars legs tight with string as you bring it back to your horse, settling it on the rear. Positioned so it won't slip off, you mount your horse once more before going back the direction you came.

As you make your way back. Your mind wanders back to Hermes. It could be him. After all, he's one of the more playful gods known for his pranks and tricks. You'll have to make an offering to him for letting you sleep in the temple, regardless if it's abandoned or not, and so he doesn't prey on your friends like he did Nikolaos.

By the time you made it to camp, it was dusk. Agnes greets you outside, taking the horse reins from you. You take the boar off of the horse, taking off to the side as you make quick work of the animal, cutting off the hide and chopping the pieces of meat you need. You leave whatever is left for Winston and the other forest creatures to feast.

Damian is quick to start cooking. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to pack spices so your group wouldn't have to suffer tasteless food.

Until the sky went dark, you spent the rest of your time eating and talking. Damian nearly choked on his food when he heard you recant the experience in the woods earlier. He says he wishes he could've seen the look on that bastards face when he was running away. Agnes jokes that Nikolaos probably looked like a scared chicken. Which admittedly, he did, come to think of it, his screams sounded like the human equivalent of one.

As the night went on, it got quiet, Damian was the first to sleep, and Agnes was next. Winston is sprawled out in between them, snoring away. Before you rest, you bring a plate of food and burning incense to the altar.

You whisper, "Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises. Take this food as a thank you for allowing us to sleep here for the night." You pause. "Also... please refrain from chasing us as a deer or anything else for that matter. While it was funny what you did to Nikolaos, I would rather not soil my pants." You chuckle, placing the food onto the alter and the incense in a dusty holder.

You go back to your original resting place, leaning against the pillar. You feel a soft and comfortable breeze flow through the temple. The sounds of the trees rustling soothe you into a nice slumber.

Still in deer form, Hermes walks through the woods, no set destination just allowing the fates to choose where he will end up. Faintly, he can hear someone whisper a prayer.

"Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises..."

It was not often that he received prayers, especially not in his sisters park of Greece. He lets the prayer pull him towards the location.

Switching to his human form, he approaches the temple. It was one of his firsts. A gift to him by his father. While unkept, it still stood strong.

He sniffs the air, a familiar smell, boar. Not only did he get a prayer, but he got an offering, too? Just what he needed after chasing the mortals.

He giggles as he makes his way inside, involuntary waking up Winston, who was silenced a quick shush and a pat to the head.

Hermes looks around at the mortals who sleep before him. Wondering who said the prayer, his eyes land on you. Still leaned against the pillar, head thrown back against it. Your hand is tightly wrapped around a dagger. Ready to strike if need be.

He studied your face for a moment, his hand twitched with the desire to trace over your features. You were very attractive for a mortal, and judging from the faint golden aura he could see emitting from you, you're the one who prayed.

He steps away with a grin, making his way to the alter. He picks the plate up, nearly drooling on the food. As much as he'd love to take his time eating, he's a glutton. In seconds, the plate is empty. He holds back a burp as he makes his way back out of the temple, glancing at you as he makes his way out.

Well, he's going to have some fun on this vacation.

[jujutsusimp]

So I finally could look at the actual panels of chapter 261 (still lying on my own pool of tears don't mind me).

Yuta holding all of this on his shoulders just crushed my soul even more, even if I knew what was going to happen, seeing it was clearly something else.

A couple things on my mind:

1) YUTA'S BODY

I FEEL SO SICK HE LOST AN ARM SO HE IS APOLOGIZING TO RIKA BECAUSE ENGAGEMENT RING ARE TRADITIONALLY ON LEFT HAND AND NOT ON RIGHT HAND

OH GEGE, IF I CATCH YOU GEGE 😰

Also seeing the sorry state of Yuta's body, can he ever get back into it??? Like I imagine he can take it back if he uses Kenjaku techniques on himself (and it's a one time activation) but would the body be in a good enough state to be used............. I feel like Yuta is either doomed to die if Kenjaku is not a one time activation, or to be trapped in Gojo's body (or another dead body which is not his.) In any case it's going to be horrible and I am already suffering, Yuta clearly didn't deserve such a gruesome fate...

2) THE GRUESOME ROOM

I was wondering wtf this room was at first, it took me some time (and the English translation because the French one was weird) to understand it was the room where the higher ups are.

So............. Gojo's students were just standing behind the door while he was wiping them out to make sure they wouldn't try to come after them if he died like they did in Shibuya... I am so sick... (Also still surprised at how Gojo manages to trust Gakuganji so much after he killed Yaga...)

3) Gojo didn't want his body to be used

He didn't say yes. He didn't say no either.. He dismissed it saying it was impossible for him to lose (while he was on his way making sure that if he did they wouldn't get into trouble... So the possibility he lost really was in his mind at this moment.). Of course he would never say no, if it's the only way to save the world and his students how could he say no... but yeah, it fucks me up so much that he didn't agree to this. Like it makes the profanation even worse somehow... (This is not to blame Yuta at all, Yuta is the one suffering the most from all of this and has valid reasons too, it's just another layer of fucking tragedy.)

IN CONCLUSION

Any spark of joy has now left my body, I think I will take a SMAU break next week because I can't see myself doing fluff right now. I will just eat ice cream and watches the most heartwarming animes known to mankind (please send recs) to recover.