#i think this is actually the first time i'm going to see someone who's literally my number 1 artist and that's never happened to me before

[stilllivinginthesewers]

Let's go with my second most important OC (should I do it with all of them?)

Name : Riley (i asked ChatGPT until i was satisfied with the name 💀)

Age : 17 years old

Love interests : Some guy named Louie, a really good cook scared of any type of firearms (though he becomes the most dangerous man ever if you spoil his food/bother him while he's cooking)

Favourite food : Red Guacamole (red avocadoes exist in this universe as well as blue and green ones, and red ones are sweet and spicy. Still, spices and ingredients are as important in the recipe)

Job : None, they used to study psychology but then stopped and now they just... Hang out with his group of friends (and a literal god also)

Hobbies : Surfing and paintball, mostly

Best at : helping people, whether it's emotionally or physically. He'd do anything to help anyone, even if he has to get hurt, to skip two whole nights of sleep or clean the blood of your worst enemy. He tries to tank almost everything and often forgets that people sometimes didn't ask for help, and that he's not invincible himself.

Loves/Hate : They love seeing people smile, and they hate seeing people suffer, or simply cry. But nothing really bothers him, as long as he knows everyone is going well, he's happy.

Best memory : One day, before his parents divorced, his dad took him to the city for a whole day when his mom wasn't here. It's the first time he really felt happy, and this day he knew how much he meant for his dad.

Worst memory :

(⚠️TW SUIC_DE, skip this part if you don't wanna read this⚠️)

During his studies in college, he met a girl, Sina. She came from another country (which is common knowing his country had the best universities in the world) and since she didn't know anyone, Riley became friends with her. Both of them had the best times together, in spite of Sina's depression. But one night, he received a goodbye message from Sina, and rushed to her apartment to try something. He couldn't find her at home, and decided to look for her on the rooftop. At the very moment he arrived, he could see her fall from the roof.

✨ End of the TW ✨

Design? : Basically, yes. Long dark hair, tanned skin, always wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a long bermuda short, carrying a white and red surfing board. I didn't really draw him yet so it never really changed.

Inspiration : I don't remember, I think it's because I love helping and I thought about a character who would be like this, but pushing this trait a bit further.

Genre : I'm not sure I understand, but he's one of the protagonists (plz someone tell me if I'm mistaken)

Gender/Sexuality : Riley is a man, and is biromantical/allosexual

Siblings : He has a step brother, 10 years older (his name is Alessandro, and is the most important political figure of another country (although he's just a huge troll and is so laid back he shouldn't have his current post)

Relationship with his parents : Riley visits his dad really often and both love seeing each other, whereas he never talked to his mom since she left, but he's okay with it, it's not like he missed her.

Favourite trait of the OC : HIS HAIRRR I WANT THEM OMGGG

Drawing/writing frequency : I write about them quite often compared to the other OCs

Killing the OC? : We're both aged the same, about the same physical strength, but he's really fast and I have asthma so I guess not.

Phobias : None, he's not really scared of anything

Rival : He has no true rival actually

Duration : It's been about a year, something like that i think

Age of creation : 15 or 16, something like that x)

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

[kxsagi]

HIII!! love your writing 🙈 can i request bllk guys w an extremely pretty reader, i’m talking everywhere they go ppl are turning their heads to admire. (with karasu, rin, barou and whoever u can pick) feel free to ignore, thanks !!

“𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤��� 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞”

a/n: thank you!!! omg this is me whenever i see my readers why are you guys so head-turning jaw droppingly gorgeous pls save some for the rest of us???

facial features perfect af, smiles beautiful af (pls go lip sync to maria by justin bieber in the mirror and bask in this confidence)

ft. karasu tabito, itoshi rin, barou shoei, itoshi sae, kaiser michael

karasu tabito

he thought he was ready. 

you’re his partner. you’re hot. he knew this. but the first time y’all go out in public together post-soft-launch? karasu realizes he is wildly underprepared. 

you walk into the mall and heads turn like you’ve got your own gravitational pull. dudes tripping over their own feet. girls side-eyeing you like you invented contour. an old man literally tips his hat. 

and karasu? karasu’s standing there like 💀 

“do i even exist right now,” he mutters. 

you sip your drink and go, “you’re just my silly little accessory.” 

he laughs. he can’t even be mad. 

but then someone asks you if you're a model and karasu panics. 

“yes, she is,” he cuts in, way too fast. “and she’s also very taken, thank you.” 

starts hovering behind you like a security guard with a minor superiority complex. 

"stop acting like my bodyguard," you say. 

"i'm not. i'm acting like your boyfriend who will throw hands at a 17-year-old if he stares at your ass one more time." 

itoshi rin

you are the bane of rin’s existence. and also the love of his life. 

he’s trying to go to the convenience store for ice cream and you’re there, looking like a runway model in joggers and a hoodie. 

you walk in and the store clerk drops his phone. 

"what flavor do you want?" you ask, oblivious. 

"the one that doesn't make people stare at you like you're the second coming of christ," rin snaps. 

he is not built for this level of social interaction. or this level of beauty-induced chaos. 

you think it’s cute when strangers compliment you. rin looks like he’s planning several hypothetical murders. 

and the worst part? 

every time he thinks he's gotten used to it, you smile at him. and it’s like the world goes silent. suddenly the stares don’t matter. 

"stop looking at me like that," he grumbles. 

you blink. "like what?” 

"like you actually like me or something." 

and you just grin. 

rin glares at the ground. he’s so done. he’s so whipped. he wants to scream. 

barou shoei

you’re a problem. an actual, walking, talking, heart-stopping problem. 

you show up in gym clothes and barou feels the earth shift. 

he already looks like a bouncer 24/7, so when people stare at you for more than three seconds, he’s automatically squaring up like he's in a street fighter game. someone whistles once and he growls. like. growls. 

you have to physically grab his face and say: “no mauling strangers today.” 

barou’s solution is just to glare at everyone. even babies. 

you’re like “babe. please. stop intimidating children.” 

“should’ve kept their eyes to themselves.” 

"he was a toddler." 

"he knew what he was doing.” 

but every time you reassure him – say you’re only his, kiss his cheek, sneak your hand into his – he softens. turns into a grumpy, silent puppy. still scary, but like… protective scary. 

you catch him staring and he just goes, “what.” 

“you’re looking at me again.” 

“i’m checking if you’re still real.” 

itoshi sae

you are his worst-kept secret. 

not because he wanted to keep you hidden, but because the second you step outside with him, everyone starts talking. he takes you to a match and it’s all “who’s that with sae???” on twitter within five minutes. 

he doesn’t mind, honestly. but when you’re in public and people won’t stop looking, he gives that look. you know the one. that dead-eyed, judgmental, “you’re beneath me” stare that says blink again and i’ll ruin your self-esteem. 

you’re like, “sae, they’re not doing anything.” 

“they’re breathing in your direction. that’s enough.” 

you laugh. he doesn’t. 

but he also spoils the hell out of you. treats you like you’re royalty. 

“you look good today,” you say. 

he shrugs. “i know. but you look better.” 

and the way he says it is so casual it knocks the air out of you. 

his love language is making everyone else feel inferior to you. 

michael kaiser

oh. he’s thriving. 

you’re pretty? you’re show-stopping, scenery-devouring, wreck-my-focus-on-the-pitch pretty? kaiser is the proudest man alive. 

walks beside you like you’re a trophy he won and he’s never giving back. 

“they’re all looking at you,” you whisper. 

he smirks. “and at me. by association. it’s perfect.” 

has zero shame, even when he doesn’t realize they’re not looking at him, they’re looking at you. 

"take a picture with me," he says mid-date. 

"why?" 

"so i can remind people i won the genetic lottery twice – once with my face, once with you." 

but oh, let someone try to flirt. he’ll go full drama mode. puts on his fake nice voice like, “hey man, great taste. but unfortunately, i got there first.” 

then stares at you like you hung the moon and sun. 

"you’re too hot for this world," he says. 

“so are you.” 

“i know. we’re gonna destroy mankind together.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[milkkytxars]

(This is not going to be like my other posts but I think it's nice, bear with me for a bit)

Something I said got a bunch of likes on twt a few days ago, but I can't stop thinking about it so I wanted to expand on it a bit! (And I like rambling on about these things, nothing you can do on twt I assure you, this gets a bit lengthy)

Here's the interaction for reference:

OK SO! First things first: PV's awakened form, one way or another, IS a direct representation of the Fount of Knowledge. Or well, at the very least it's what we've been shown to be the most idealistic form of him.

We can't know for sure how the Fount of Knowledge actually was like or acted, because Shadow Milk will never get vulnerable enough on screen to let the audience know such things, but if the statue of him is anything to go by (and not a fabricated lie) then we have something to work with.

The Fount of Knowledge has a key opening in the middle of his chest, and coincidentally, he's also carrying his soul jam on his staff which has the form of a key. This could be interpreted as him having the answers that others' (cookies) can unlock.

However, if we pay closer attention to the pictures, we'll see that the Fount's key is a bit "weird"

As you can see, not only are there two teeths in the key, but there's also a large space from the end of the staff to the point where the first teeth appears.

If someone were to literally try to insert this key into Fount's keyhole to try and get it open, it would pierce through Fount! The key is simply too large, and it doesn't seem like complicated teeth would actually fit inside the hole either.

Now, let's see Pure Vanilla's staff!

As you can see, he only has one teeth right at the bottom of the key. This is how most functional keys look!

One interpretation could be that Fount never actually held the key towards true knowledge, which is a fault that made him fundamentally imperfect towards his greater purpose. Another reason why he fell into deceit in the first place.

Pure Vanilla, however, as holder of the light of truth, also holds a functional key as his staff. He carries that truth with him and plans to open up a path to himself and keep finding out new truths of the world.

His key isn't going to open all keyholes, just as the path he leads isn't going to let him find everything there is to know, but if he holds the truth close to his heart (therefore, the soul jam at his chest) he will continue to follow the light.

But let's circle back to Shadow Milk.

He is the beast of deceit, and he hides so much of himself that you could even call his whole current identity a lie, as if he was trying to be deceit incarnate just like he once was the representation of knowledge.

Let's remember now, that we can interpret the key hole on his chest when he was Fount as an opening to himself, and therefore, to knowledge.

Basically the truth of himself, if I'm making any sense with this.

When he turns into Shadow Milk though, where does he hold his soul jam of deceit? Right where the keyhole was! Essentially, he's obscuring the truth of the world and of himself with lies.

Now, what does Pure Vanilla say at the end of BY8?

He says that he is the one who can understand him best, that he's the only one who can understand Shadow Milk.

And while it's mentioned that it's because of their shared soul jam, this is not the only reason why.

Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are very important to each other, in whatever way you want to see it. They're essential to each other's story and development.

In the end, the reason why they can understand each other so well is because they're pretty similar. At least in the way they feel, or have felt, about the world.

There's a reason why Pure Vanilla turned into Truthless Recluse after all. Even if it was for a short amount of time, those were still his real feelings, and they mirrored Shadow Milk's own.

The fact that Awakened Pure Vanilla holds a key is to find his own truth, and this fact cannot be diminished. However, I think it would be a disservice to his character and their relationship if it's not also acknowledged that Pure Vanilla's truth fundamentally involves Shadow Milk's true self too.

Fount of Knowledge, as much as that's a discarded persona, it's also a part of Shadow Milk he cannot erase. And Pure Vanilla understands this the same way he understands that Truthless Recluse was a part of himself too.

Pure Vanilla's staff as a key, exists to unlock the hidden lock Shadow Milk has buried deep into his past. Because Shadow Milk's truth is also Pure Vanilla's truth.

That's why he embraces deceit, because Shadow Milk is deceit. And Pure Vanilla tries to make Shadow Milk embrace the truth too, that's why he asks him to be his friend.

Pure Vanilla is truth, so by asking Shadow Milk to be friends with him, he's asking him to embrace truth.

This entails Shadow Milk accepting his past, which Pure Vanilla has the key to unlock now with his awakening and the arduous journey he underwent in the spire to find himself. A key that has long been tossed away by Shadow Milk when he stopped being the Fount of knowledge.

Therefore, while Pure Vanilla's key can't crack open every lock in his way, it is designed by default for its priority to be opening Shadow Milk's heart/soul.

(One last thing would also be that Pure Vanilla's staff, from having a light, technically is also traversing through the darkness in Shadow Milk. I don't want to go into too much detail because this is better explained by this post, go check their stuff out on both of their accounts, it's really good!)

♪♪♪

Anyways, that's it, thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Maybe I'll post another analysis in the future if this is well received lol (I have this idea of PV's awakened form being Fount's but reverse if that makes sense???)

Bye now ❤

[hivemuthur]

I’ve had a thought. You believe Viktor to be Experienced, right? What would his first time have looked like? This could be a request if you wanna write a one shot. Or just like share your thoughts. I’d be intrigued to see what you come up with if you wrote it out tho 🤔

You do like to throw me curveballs (I love that, thank you). Here is some virgin!Viktor take, he's not exactly super freaky but take it as the origin of Freaktor :')

Humble as I Go

viktorxfem!reader explicit! first time, a bit awkward, a bit sweet. Both Viktor and Reader are virgins! There is no specified age for the sake of legalities, but you can imagine them both young.

word count: 3,8K

author’s note: ok, so I've seen some angry post about condemnation of virgins through HC-ing Viktor as a non-virgin, and what I'm saying here is that I disagree with his infantilization in most virgin!Viktor fics. I was a late bloomer so I am literally nobody to tell people when it's cool to start having sex, it's absolutely irrelevant to your maturity. But having him unable to add 2+2 or being completely oblivious to sex in his 30s IS ableist. For the most part, disabled people know their bodies pretty well because they have to, and I can imagine Viktor being pretty well-read as well, him being curious about life. So no, it's not a punch toward people who didn't have sex yet, it's a punch toward those who see a disabled guy and think 'let's make him pathetic.' @rennethen beta read, thank you as usual! Happy (sort of) Freakday :')

—

Viktor stares at his thighs intently, grateful for a moment to regroup. The fabric around the knees is bulging and thinned out, threads threatening to pull—if not today, then tomorrow, or the day after. It’s also slightly damp, soft beneath his fingers where he’s wiped his sweaty palms while waiting for you to come back from the bathroom.

He’s afraid to get up from where you sat him on the bed—he’d slipped in the puddle that gathered on the pavement in The Fissures on your way home, after you’d muttered that your parents were away. And your house is nice. It’s warm and cozy. It’s full of love, with plenty of things that don’t match finding a place beside one another. A wet stain from his ass on your bedsheets wouldn’t bode well for what you’re both so excited for—and frightened of—all the same.

The door creaks, and then your head peeks out. A ghost of a smile lingers on your mouth, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—and Viktor, oh, he can’t help but smile too. He actually laughs, breathy, nervous and quiet, but welcomes the weight of you settling beside him on the edge of the bed, as if your presence alone repels every doubt.

You don’t say anything at first. Just lean into his side, shoulder brushing his, your palm resting between you. His fingers twitch beneath it. “You okay?” you ask eventually, soft.

Viktor nods once. Then again, slower. “I think so.” A beat. “My hands are sweaty.”

You smile into your knees, arms looping around them. “Mine too.”

That gets a laugh out of both of you, hushed and crackling with nerves. You untangle your limbs first and stretch one leg over the edge of the bed, your knee knocking gently into his. His trousers shift as he moves to look at you more fully, and the suspenders tug awkwardly with the motion.

“I like these,” you say, your finger sliding under one of the straps and letting it snap back lightly against his chest.

“They’re necessary,” he replies. “My trousers are too big. They used to be my father’s.”

You hum like that makes perfect sense, which it does. His whole frame still has the look of someone who hasn’t quite finished growing into himself—elbows and knees a bit too sharp, shoulders a little unsure of their breadth. You reach out and brush his hair back from his forehead, and this time he doesn’t flinch, just watches you with wide, liquid eyes.

“I keep thinking I’ll mess this up somehow,” you admit, quiet.

“You won’t,” he says quickly. “Even if we do it all wrong, it’s still with you.”

That makes your throat ache. You kiss him—small and soft, mouths barely moving, just the warmth of it. When you pull back, Viktor’s eyes are closed, but he’s smiling. Your hands drift to the buttons of his shirt, but hesitate, hovering. “May I?”

He nods. “Yes. Please.”

You undo them slowly. One, then another. His skin is pale where it’s usually hidden, collarbones delicate, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. When you glance up, his eyes are open again, fixed on your face like you’re the most intricate, important thing he’s ever seen.

His hands fumble next, trying to return the favour, but they shake a little and get caught in the hem of your sweater. You both laugh again, leaning forehead to forehead, nerves zinging in the air between you like lightning trapped in glass.

“Wait,” he says, reaching down awkwardly, and peels off his socks like they’ve betrayed him. “I don’t want to wear these for this.”

“They’re not that bad,” you say, but you’re already tugging off your own to match. “There. Even.”

The grin he gives you is crooked and overwhelmed, but he’s glowing with it. There’s no hurry, not really. Just a shared understanding that you’re moving toward something neither of you has ever done, and yet it feels inevitable in the best way.

Your hands find his suspenders and slide them down the slope of his shoulders. The tension in the elastic gives a soft snap, and he flinches, then laughs under his breath. He looks smaller without them, somehow—softer. Less held together.

His trousers sit loose on his hips now, waistband gaping far away from skin and it looks like a second Viktor could fit in them easily. When your fingers find the button, he nods, barely a breath. You undo it, and the fabric slides down, pooling around his ankles with a sigh. You both blink at the sound, then laugh again, quietly—he shrugs, self-conscious.

“See?” he mutters.

“Thank gods for those, huh?” you say, pulling at one of the suspender straps, and Viktor chuckles, air leaving his nose loudly as if he was holding it until now.

You guide him out of the trousers, then pause, eyeing the brace along his leg. “Would you like to—?”

He follows your gaze, then nods, sitting back to unbuckle the straps. “It’s easier like this,” he murmurs, focused on the clasps. “I don’t usually take it off unless I have to.”

“You don’t have to,” you say gently.

“I want to.” His voice is soft, but certain.

You watch as he undoes the last strap and lifts the brace carefully aside. Without it, his leg looks thinner, a little tense—but you only touch his knee, light and reassuring, and his shoulders drop. You lean in to kiss his cheek, and he smiles, just barely.

Then you reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arms to let you pull it off. It takes a moment to work it over his head—his hair sticks up after, and you smooth it back without thinking. He’s left in his undershirt, but the skin you can see is pale in the light, slender and unevenly freckled. When you run your palms down his arms, he inhales sharply, but doesn’t stop you.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, and he ducks his head like he doesn’t believe it, but his smile flickers small and bright.

“You’re not supposed to say that first,” he says. “I was going to say it.”

“You still can.”

He does. Quietly, but steady. “You’re beautiful.”

Then he touches your wrist, tentative, and waits. You nod.

He starts with your sweater, careful with the buttons even though his hands are shaking. You help him with the last one, and then the shirt beneath. His knuckles brush your ribs as he works the fabric off your shoulders. His gaze lingers—not just on your chest, but on all of you, awed.

His fingers trace the waistband of your trousers next, and he looks up again. “Alright?” he asks.

You hum an answer, too full to speak. The zip comes down smoothly. He tugs, slow and a little awkward, and you lift your hips so the fabric can slide off easier. When he gets them halfway down your legs, he stills for a second. Watching your thighs, your knees, your bare skin, as if it’s something rare and precious.

When he finally gets them off, you’re both just… there. Sitting in your underwear, knees bumping, hearts thudding so hard it’s almost funny. You reach for the duvet, tugging it over both of you. Not to hide—just to be close. Wrapped together in the warmth of this.

And then, when you’re ready, you reach again. Gentle. Curious.

“Hi,” you say, and smile.

“Hi,” he echoes, and his gaze never leaves yours.

The covers rest around your hips, pooling softly between you. Viktor’s knees knock against yours again, faint and accidental. Or maybe not. Your fingers graze his, and he turns his palm up, opening it for you.

“I’ve never done this before,” you admit, voice hushed. “Obviously.”

“Me neither.” He huffs a laugh, awkward and fond. “You can probably tell.”

You nudge your shoulder into his. “It’s okay. I think… I’d be scared with anyone else.”

His eyes flicker down, then back up, bright and unblinking. “You’re not scared now?”

You shake your head. “Not with you.”

He exhales like that means the world. Slowly, carefully, he brings a hand to your cheek, thumb barely brushing the skin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You nod, may times, and this kiss is different—shy at first, but it lingers, warmer, his mouth parting when yours does. His hand slides behind your neck. Yours settle over his ribs, thin beneath your palms. The duvet shifts with your closeness, and you both feel it: your bodies pressed together, clothed in breath and nerves.

It changes then—from careful lips to Viktor’s mouth opening a little more, and yours following. The world narrows to the slick, tentative press of tongues. It’s warm, unfamiliar, and clumsy in a way that makes you both stifle little laughs between kisses. His breath tastes like mint and you’re curious when he’s managed to refresh. Yours is all heat. A soft sound slips out of him when you suck gently on his lower lip, and he mirrors it, hesitant but eager.

The sounds are quiet, wet, a shared secret. A rhythm begins to build—just earnest, as if you're both learning at the same pace. His hand slides from the back of your neck to your waist, pulling you in, every touch like a plea for permission. You tip, gently, and both of you laugh as you fall sideways, mouths still pressed together.

Viktor braces himself on one elbow, looking down at you. His curls are a mess. His chest rises and falls in quick little stutters, and your fingers find the hem of his undershirt, then slip beneath. His skin is warm, smooth, and he twitches when you drag your hand along his ribs.

Your legs shift, one sliding against his. The covers slip lower. His free hand trails up your side. Hesitant, at first, but when he finds the curve of your breast and cups it, you gasp—soft and startled and entirely involuntary.

He freezes, then breathes, and you watch his throat move as he murmurs, “I like that sound.”

“Well,” you blush and swallow loudly. “I liked… that.”

His thumb brushes over your nipple through the thin fabric, and the breath that leaves you this time is closer to a moan. His eyes flick to your mouth and linger. Then, shyly, he bends to kiss you again.

You let your fingers drift lower, and wrap them around the hem of his undershirt. He breaks the kiss with a gasp, and lifts his arms in wordless permission. The fabric peels away easily, and when it's off, you pause to look—Viktor’s chest is narrow, ribs visible under pale skin. One of your hands grazes his sternum, and he makes a small, helpless sound in response.

“You’re…” you begin, but it gets lost in a breath. “Beautiful.” His ears go red, and he lowers his head, but he’s smiling.

He mirrors your movement, fingertips brushing the strap of your bra, a question in his eyes. You nod, and reach back to unhook it yourself. When it slips off, Viktor stares like he’s been handed something sacred. His hands hover before he rests one gently against your side, the other cupping you carefully. The sensation makes you shiver, and when his thumb brushes your nipple again—skin to skin this time—you bite your lip.

You tug him back in for a kiss, and while your mouths meet, you shift your hips just enough for your knickers to slide down. You shimmy them off beneath the covers, kicking them away with your toes. He notices. His eyes widen.

“You too,” you whisper, smiling, and he lets out a quiet, nervous laugh.

He pushes his briefs down with both hands, wriggling a little to get them past his hips. They’re snug, but they come off, down to his toes where they tangle, and he has to kick them off. Again, you both let out breathy laughs, pressed forehead to forehead. Now there’s nothing between you. Only skin and heat and everything unknown.

Your palm traces the curve of his shoulder, gliding down his chest, where his heart beats like a second one between you. He mirrors the path, fingers grazing your hip, then your waist, learning you in slow lines and soft breaths. And then, lower.

You hold each other’s gaze when his fingers slip down, brushing through the heat between your legs. The first touch is feather-light, but it makes you tense around the sound it nearly draws from you. His jaw clenches; he swallows, focusing, adjusting, trying again—gentler, more measured.

Your hand finds him in the same moment, wrapping around him with instinct more than knowledge. The sharp breath he lets out doesn’t sound like anything you’ve heard from him before. His hand pauses. He blinks fast, lips parted, stunned by the way your touch makes him falter.

“I—I didn’t know it would feel like that,” he says quietly, wonder bleeding into each word. Your thumb brushes over him and his hips jump. His forehead touches yours, and he whispers, "I might not last that long."

“I don’t mind,” you confess, breath caught.

You’re both still breathing each other in when Viktor shifts, propped on one elbow, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and hesitant eyes. “I… I’ve been reading,” he says, and his voice is so small you almost miss it.

You blink at him, trying not to smile. “Reading?”

He nods. “About this. About how—it might hurt. For you.”

The smile breaks through anyway, teasing, gentle. “Were there diagrams or something?”

The tips of his ears go crimson. “Maybe.”

You laugh under your breath, and it seems to give him courage. His gaze flickers across your face. “Will you let me try something?”

You nod, already breathless at the tenderness in his voice. “Yes.”

His hand glides down your belly, careful and warm, until he’s cupping you again. You’re already soft and slick, the trust between you easing the way, and when the tip of his finger begins to press inside, your body welcomes him with a gasp.

“You’re…” he murmurs, eyes wide in awe. “You’re so soft.”

His voice makes your toes curl. He moves slowly, watching your face the entire time, his brows drawing together in concentration as he slips in deeper, then adds another finger, and you arch at the stretch.

Your hand tightens instinctively around his cock—still warm and heavy in your palm—and the reaction is immediate. Viktor gasps, hips twitching toward you, and then he whimpers, “I beg you, don’t distract me.”

You giggle, trying to find your composure. “Forgive my manners,” you manage, mock-polite, but your voice cracks as his fingers curl just so. “Oh—”

His expression softens into something closer to wonder. “Is that alright?”

You nod, panting. “Yeah. Better than alright.”

“Good,” he says, with so much focus it almost makes you laugh again—if you weren’t so full of feeling. “You’re doing so well.”

“You too,” you whisper, and you mean it. Every moment is something you didn’t know you’d treasure. Every breath from him, every careful touch, feels like something precious.

Viktor’s fingers move again, slowly, curling as if he’s trying to memorise you by feel alone. Your hips twitch, and your head falls back against the pillow, lips parted. It isn’t overwhelming, not yet—but it’s building. Warming. Like a fire catching at the edges.

“I like how you feel,” he says suddenly, shyly, as though he’s admitting something shameful. “Inside. Around me.” Your throat tightens. There’s something about his voice—equal parts reverent and surprised, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this.

“You can—keep going,” you breathe. “It feels really good.”

His lips brush the ball of your shoulder. “Tell me if it stops feeling good. Please.”

“I will.” You smile, lifting your hand to brush his fringe aside, fingers sweeping through soft hair. “You’re already being perfect.”

That makes him fluster, his fingers faltering for just a moment before resuming. He adds a tiny twist to the motion, and the sound that leaves you is unguarded. “Viktor—”

“I like that sound too,” he says, grinning, and then ducks his head to hide it against your shoulder.

You both giggle quietly, your bodies trembling with nerves and affection and something deeper that you’re only beginning to name. Then, he kisses your neck. “Can I try something else?”

You hum and nod, nearly absent and his thumb shifts to stroke you in slow, tentative circles while his fingers stay deep, coaxing the pleasure higher. You cling to his shoulders, skin hot under your palms. It feels good—careful, considered. It’s not polished or practised, but it’s full of kindness, full of him.

And when your hips roll up without thinking, chasing the rhythm, Viktor breathes a shaky “Yes,” into the hollow beneath your ear, like your response gives him permission to keep going. You feel yourself starting to tighten around him, fluttering.

“Gods,” you whisper. “You’re so good.”

“You too,” he says, kissing your cheek, breath ragged now. “You feel… you feel amazing.” His hand has you, fingers deep, careful, as his thumb circles around you slowly. You can feel yourself tipping—your legs tense, your thighs pressing closer around his palm. It's all so much: the warmth of his body against yours, the way he keeps watching your face like he’s afraid to miss even a flicker of feeling.

Your breath catches. “Viktor—”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “Let go if you want to.”

One permission is enough for you, and with a soft gasp, you do let go. It rolls through you slowly at first—warmth blooming outward, your muscles clenching around his fingers as your hips jerk. Your breath forms a sound that might be a moan, might be his name. He holds still inside you, except for the slow strokes of his thumb, drawing it out, waiting until your body begins to tremble and soften again. Only then does he carefully slip his hand free.

You’re blinking up at him through the haze, breathless, glowing from within. “You—”

“Did I hurt you?” His brow is furrowed. “Was that alright?”

“It was—” You laugh, dazed. “It was incredible. I think I forgot my name.”

He blushes, his chest rising and falling with shallow breath. You pull him closer, pressing your mouth to his, lazy and grateful. When your hand finds him again, he shudders violently. “You’re so hard,” you murmur against his lips.

He nods, almost sheepish. “Since the beginning.”

Your fingers close around him, and he gasps, hips twitching forward despite himself. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, panting.

“Do you want—?” you begin, but he interrupts with a desperate little sound.

“Gods, yes.” He lifts his head, eyes wide and earnest, “I really, really want to.”

You kiss him again. “Then come here.”

You watch as Viktor reaches behind him, fumbling for where his trousers lay crumpled near the edge of the bed. His hand disappears into the pocket and comes back holding a small, square packet. He blushes when he sees you looking, sheepish. “I, um… thought maybe.”

You smile. “I’m glad you did.” You help him tear it open, hands brushing. There’s a stutter in his breath as he rolls it on, careful and methodical, brows drawn in focus like he’s solving a delicate matter. His fingers tremble.

When he’s done, he looks at you—truly looks. His hair is messy from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses, his whole expression open and tender. “Are you ready?”

You nod, guiding him forward with your hands on his hips, your legs parting to welcome him in. He steadies himself on his forearms, nose brushing yours. “Tell me if I do anything wrong,” he whispers. “I’ve never—”

“You’re perfect,” you whisper back. “I want you.”

He lines himself up, the tip brushing where you're soft and slick. The sensation draws a sharp breath from both of you. And then, slowly, he begins to press inside.

It’s careful, hesitant, and overwhelming—tight and unfamiliar and so incredibly intimate. He gasps, pausing halfway with his eyes fluttering shut. “Oh—God.”

Your hands are on his back, one tracing the line of his spine. “You’re okay,” you whisper. “You’re doing so well.”

He presses the rest of the way in, shallow and shaking, his body curled over yours like he’s trying to disappear into the moment, or maybe into you. For a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just breathes, and you are grateful for this time to adjust. You feel the warmth of his chest against yours, his heart racing in time with your own.

“It’s—” he starts, then breaks off with a soft, overwhelmed laugh. “You are so good.” You cup his face, unable to say anything. When he finally starts to move, it’s slow and stuttering. He’s trying so hard to hold on, eyes glazed, mouth parted. You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his temple—anchoring him.

“I certainly won’t last,” he confesses, voice breaking. “You feel so—”

“It’s okay.” Your hand slides to the nape of his neck, thumb brushing his hair. “I don’t mind.”

His hips rock a little faster, the rhythm unsteady but full of feeling. Each thrust draws a soft whimper from him, a breathy moan from you. He buries his face against your shoulder, breath heavy. When he comes, it’s with a quiet gasp, his whole body tensing and then melting against you. He clings, arms tight around you like he’s afraid to let go.

You lie there, tangled together in the hush that follows. Eventually, he lifts his head, eyes searching yours. “Did I…?”

You smile and kiss him. “You were wonderful.”

He exhales, dazed and a little teary. “You make me feel like I could do anything.”

“You can,” you say suddenly all serious and Viktor blushes differently this time. His face blushes and his ears, but you are certain his heart does too. He rolls of you, limbs lose and boneless, and pulls you close, arms wrapping snugly around your shoulders until there is space big enough only for you to breathe each other in. Legs tangled and fingers twisted in another’s hair you lay sunken in the sheets. The room quiets around you, and neither of you knows if this was so big only because you don’t know any bigger—but you choose to take it as it is: humbling.

[magical-regical]

Night Blooming Flowers

A Leona Kingscholar x f!yuu fic

Word count: 1273

(ok I know I usually do gn!yuu but this one's for me especially, capiche?)

The incident at Styx didn't leave many people unscathed and even though the majority of those involved made a full recovery, a certain prefect wasn't so lucky.

She didn't realize it until it was over. She just saw Grim being flung off of Ortho's shoulder and Vil trying desperately to grab him while also holding on to Idia. Her body moved before her mind and she barely had time to shout at Rook to keep her afloat before her body was free-falling through the air, one arm outstretched to grab the direbeast's paw.

She remembered holding Grim against her chest and the sudden change in momentum knocking the wind out of her chest. She remembered solid ground beneath her feet, people talking, getting on to a plane, and the sound of someone wailing until they touched down in the NRC sports field. It wasn't until Deuce shouted,

"Yuu, your face!"

that got her body out of auto-pilot. She moved to lift her right arm to touch her face when she realized she'd lost all feeling in said arm.

There was nothing to be done. Lilia surmised that because she had absolutely zero magic in her there wasn't anything stopping the underworld from directly draining the life from her cells and no room for magic to restore it either.

Now she's lying there in her room for the n-th sleepless night, her entire right forearm replaced by a styx-made prosthetic. The amputation procedure was unbelievably quick and painless and the top-of-the-line prosthetic that responded to her brain's signals just as well as her real arm would made the rehabilitation period practically negligible. No, that wasn't the problem. The problem was on her head, literally. The underworld had killed off some of the cells in her face and hair. The doctors were able to prevent the cells from going necrotic but you could still tell where they were from the white tips of hair and patches of skin on her face.

After tossing and turning for who knows how long she gave up and got out of bed. Not wanting to wake Grim who was snoring peacefully on his side of the bed, she left the room, closing the door as quietly as possible.

She walked with no particular destination until she reached the botanical gardens, which had been perfectly restored in record time thanks to the diligent efforts of the Shrouds. She was making her way through the temperate zone of the garden towards the subtropical zone where most of the night-blooming flowers grew when she stepped on a strange branch.

"I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose."

She jumped like a cat seeing a cucumber. Leona's tail retreated towards him as he sat up, letting out a yawn,

"What are you even doing here at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Leona growled, "I was sleeping, obviously. Until I was so rudely woken up."

"Well pardon me your highness." She said while rolling her eyes, "Please forgive this peasant's transgression and go back to your peaceful slumber."

She turned to walk away when Leona called out to them. When she turned around the lion was on his feet, his face a mixture of annoyance and something else she couldn't make out in the dark.

"You never answered my question."

"I couldn't sleep." she sighed, "and there are flowers in here that only bloom at night."

She tried not to stare as Leona approached her. Bathed in the moonlight like this, she was reminded that the lazy lion she has a crush on was actually a prince. A part of her wanted to run away but her feet stayed rooted in place, all she could do was try not to make eye contact until he was stood right in front of her.

She didn't see the way his eyes drifted to her forearm nor the pained expression that clouded his face for a split second.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No. It did the first few days but not anymore. It's like I never lost it really. These on the other hand..." Her hand reached up to touch one of the white patches on her skin.

"I mean they don't hurt but... they look kind of grisly don't they?" She said while letting out a dry chuckle.

A silence fell between the two of them. Neither one really knew what to do. Leona was the first to speak up,

"Ipomoea alba"

She looked up at him in confusion. Leona just kept going as he started to walk, leading her towards the subtropical zone.

"Agave amica, Zaluzianskya ovata, Gardenia jasminoides. You don't even know the names of the flowers you're going to see?" his tone was playful but not mocking.

He explained how most night-blooming flowers are white because they don't 'waste' resources to color their petals instead, their only goal is to reflect the light of the moon.

"Where are you going with this?" she asked.

They stopped in front of one of the blooming gardenia bushes. Leona let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he turned to face them again, "Do I have to spell it out for you? You're like those flowers. You didn't waste any of your resources and had one goal, to save that weasel. These marks—" his hand reached out, hovering just above her cheek, "—are just proof that you succeeded."

Every word he said was steeped in his unshakeable confidence. As if the patches on her cheeks couldn't possibly stand for anything else. Maybe it was that confidence that made her grab his hand and press it against her face.

"Thanks, Leona." she muttered, closing her eyes.

"Hey, look at me." He gently tapped a finger against her cheek, making her open her eyes again, "I want to kiss you. May I?"

He could feel her blush through his gloves. She gave him a shy nod but that wasn't enough to satisfy the lion prince,

"No. I need to hear you say it."

Of course he did. She was currently face to face with one of the princes of the Sunset Savannah and if she couldn't hold her ground, she would surely be devoured. So she swallowed her embarrassment and, for the first time that night, looked him straight in the eye,

"You may, Leona Kingscholar."

He smiled, "That's my girl."

Then he closed the gap between them. The kiss was filled with feelings that no longer needed to be spoken out loud. When they broke away Leona kept his forehead pressed against hers, one of his hands tangling itself in her hair.

"I love you." she said, her gaze once again filled with that spark that had the audacity to twist his arm into helping her with her plan lest she made a racket in front of his room for the rest of the year.

He couldn't help but laugh, a deep, warm laugh that echoed through the empty garden.

"Took you long enough." He said, pressing another kiss on to her cheek.

"Stay at Savanaclaw with me tonight?" he mumbled.

"I'd love to but I can't. Grim would freak out if I just disappeared like that."

"Damn weasel..." he growled, burying his head into the crook of her neck. "Fine."

But despite saying that, he didn't let go of her. Instead, he picked her up and took her back to his usual nap spot before getting comfortable on her chest.

"Leona, I said—"

"I heard what you said." He huffed, "You'll be back in Ramshackle before the sun rises, I promise. For now just, stay here with me. Okay?"

She sighed, using her left hand to stroke his ears while the other one rested on the small of his back, "Alright."

A/N

Surprise! You thought you were reading a normal fluffy fic but it is actually! Thinly veiled OC lore! Now you are forced to look at my yuusona!

Pre-book 6 (L) and post-book 6 (R)

Her name's Oyuki McGuffin. She's 18 y/o and would like a nap.

Current concern: Does a potion count as soup?

Ok that's all I wanted to say. Thank you have a nice day.

[bbina]

it was nice that kun wanted to treat you out for lunch to celebrate your first month of successfully working and dealing with chenle because last time he checked, all previous assistants didn't even last a full week

"a toast to y/n" kun raises his glass up in the air. you let out a chuckle, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you too raise your own glass

"to being overworked" you chirp, clinking your glass with kun, side eyeing chenle who rolls his eyes but raises his glass nonetheless

"i'm literally not overworking you but okay" chenle murmurs, clinking his glass against yours and kun

you and kun both share a laugh of disbelief. him not overworking you? yeah right. says the same man who makes you work overtime just to finish an unfinished report he had given you 5 minutes before you had to clock out

"so, y/n.." kun starts, "any complaints, reviews or what not that you've kept to yourself for the past month about working with chenle here?" kun nods his head towards chenle's direction who glares at him

because in his defense, why do people keep saying that he's such an evil boss?

you take a good look at chenle and kun before you try to formulate your answer. if you had to be honest, you had a lot to say about working under chenle

first of all, he was unpredictable. you literally cannot guess if the day was gonna be a calm day because most of the time, it won't be one

second, there are times that he's so moody but maybe that's what running a company does to you at such a young age. you do admit that you commend him for such feat. it isn't easy being a young and successful ceo. you can say that now because you literally work with him

sure there are some positive sides working with him but it's mostly with chenle's overall character that you still can't quite get a hold of properly but given that it's been a month and chenle hasn't fired you despite talking back to him more now, then that should be a good sign itself

"oh she's thinking. there must be a lot" kun comments, shooting chenle a look to which the latter brushes off

"let's not get ahead of ourselves. we already know what she feels about me.. right, y/n?" chenle smirks, clearly referencing to your viral tweet. its been two weeks since the incident but it seems like he's the only one still holding onto the comment

"i bet you liked the compliment since it clearly got to your head" you murmured, sipping on your water as you look at chenle

kun snorts at your answer, clearly amused by the way you talk to your boss. it's honestly so refreshing to see someone who isn't afraid of chenle. maybe that's why his previous assistants didn't last long, or so he thinks

"but seriously though. it's an actual miracle that you lasted this long. chenle here had 3 assistants and they all ran the way" kun recalls, reminiscing the three assistants that only caused them more work than help since they all just left without a trace, "so you still being here has to mean something" he smiles, reaching over to pat your shoulder

"so sir zhong is the problem?" you ask, obviously a joke but the way you say it makes it sound like you were being genuine causing chenle to glare at you across the table and kun to laugh his ass off

chenle scoffs, remembering those dark times (not really) at the company where he and kun managed everything themselves. how he had to constantly rely on kun for the smallest of things because he couldn't keep track of anything anymore with everything going on all at once. how he had to balance his work and life balance all himself. review all those slides, papers, reports all on his own because he couldn't find competent people to actually help him and get the job done

it wasn't easy at the time but now, things have felt so much lighter now that you stuck around

not that chenle will full on admit that out loud. so what if you lasted a month with him? so what if you just magically get the shit he dumps on you done before the day ends even if it costs you to work over time (little did you know, he actually takes notes of the hours you spent working over time and adds it to your paycheck as incentives. huge incentives at that. his own silent way of thanking you for your hard work but you don't have to know that)

"i'm not hard to work with" chenle grumbles, eyes straying to you, "it's just that the previous assistants didn't do their job properly"

"so you're saying i do my job properly in your standards? thanks for the praise boss. i'll be sure to remember this forever" you coo dramatically, putting your hands on your chest as you smile at chenle

"thin ice. ms. jung. thin ice" chenle warns, eyes narrowing slightly at your playful remark. he would rather die than to admit that right now

"you said that earlier but look at you treating me out for lunch to celebrate me dealing with you" you retort

"you mean kun is treating you. not me because if i did, i would've chose the cheapest thing on the menu here"

"yeah sir kun did. with your company card so thanks anyway" you smile fakely at your boss

kun could only watch the way you two bounce off each other. even if it sounded like you two hate each other, the banter was something else. you actually match his energy. maybe that's why chenle keeps you around

"you two get along so well" kun comments, smiling between you and chenle

"no we don't" you and chenle both say at the same time. you let out a little gasp as chenle turns away huffing

"my point exactly" kun grins, seemingly happy at the situation. chenle had found his perfect assistant for him

BUSINESS PROPOSAL ᝰ.ᐟ . . . A MONTH

✎ . . . things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

[ PREV / NEXT ]

✎ AUTHORS NOTE . . . we're getting somewhere + i think this might be the last implied timeskip chapters for now. ive only been doing that to establish how theyre getting closer lol

✎ TAGLIST . . . @mrkleelvr @jenodigital @https-dandelion @rik0shii @spacejip @yyangj3lly @multifandomania @taroddori @222brainrot @amouriu @defzcl @va1entinaa @carelessshootanonymous @onlywonb @flaminghotyourmom @do-you-remember-summer-127 @grimlinshere @yayayaiheardyouthefirsttime @hoeingthefuckup @meltinghershey @alwayswook @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @dudekiss3r @sibwol @planetmarlowe @doraemiz @morklee02 @httpsxnox @firydst @yuyita-rosier @ayukas @cottonjaems @monomya @neocults26 @greenyweirdo

[starsdrz]

clara's shifting diary  .・。.・⋆ entry 001

i have no idea if this is interesting to anyone but I feel like sharing my progress and my journey so here is the first instalment of my shifting diaries.

a few days ago i shared a post about how i feel disconnected from my drs and the people in it (here) and i've been kind of evaluating all of my drs to see if I actually want to shift there. some of them i actually didn't really care about honestly so I did a bit of cleaning. i feel like that always helps me when i feel a bit stagnant in my journey.

an other thing I struggle with is expectations. i think i might have too high of expectations for my drs, especially for the heavily scripted ones. so, last sunday, i decided i would shift to a totally unscripted dr. all i knew is that i wanted to be this like niche nepo baby who dropped out of marketing school (can you tell i'm tired of my degree lmfao) to work in fashion and follow her boyfriend around on his tour.

i did not end up shifting that night, but i did have a dream about that reality. now this is important, first because i never, and i mean NEVER, dream about my drs, even after a shifting practice. I usually dream about the same shit tbh. so this is a very rare occurence for me, especially since I decided to shift there on a whim. the other reason why this is significant is that i'm pretty sure it was a memory from my dr, slightly distorted because, dream yk, but still a memory. i had briefly thought that i moved to la when i was like 15 in that reality before doing my routine, and in my dream, me and my family had moved to la. i was unpacking my things in my room, and i remember being stressed about having to go to high school soon. i never had a dream with this premise before, and like i said, my dreams are always about the same things and people. i also never had a memory from one of my drs come to me in a dream.

the next day, so yesterday night, i wanted to shift there again. so i did my routine. did not end up shifting either, but I had ANOTHER dream about my dr, this time including my dr boyfriend. which is also an extremely rare occurence, i think i've dreamt about a s/o once before and I don't shift for them anymore. so that was insane. my dream started with me arguing about something with someone from this reality, but at some point my speech switched to english and i was arguing with my boyfriend. we were on facetime, i remember holding my phone in my hand while was like going on a rant and his face was on my screen. i don't remember what we were fighting about tho. not sure if this was another memory or not but it could be.

i like to believe that this is a sign, like maybe i feel more comfortable with this new dr because i have no real expectations for it.

(also my boyfriend is that dr is literally soooo like im obsessed with him pls he's so gorgeous and cool)

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

okay I HAVE to seek you out about it JoJo 🙏

I've been having a TERRIBLE brainrot (literally, I can't function normally) about what it'd be like to work in D&D Motorshop or even in the S.S motor shop 😩

I feel like D&D would have a comfortable vibe once they get to know you/reader well, and it probably started because reader applied for a part time job and Draken knew them OR(! My fav storyline so far :3) Draken and you had been friends for some years due to Takemichi and you're struggling to find a part time job to finance university/college. Even if you don't know much about bikes, Draken could be like "its fine, we'll pay you a bit if you wipe the bikes clean, sort customer files and deal with the budget."

I think for S.S Motorshop, either before Shinichiro died or even in an alternate AU where everyone survives but Draken and Inui work there as well/the founding members of black dragon (they have my heart, the cuties) occasionally drop by. Shin would be so kind and gentle I think omg

Anyways, sorry for the rant (and if something doesn't make sense I apologise, I'm typing this half asleep at 3 in the morning) :,) I'm DYING to hear your thoughts on what working with/for them would be like, especially (or not lol) if you don't know super much about bikes in the beginning

Yee I'll go to bed now, bye bye ❤️

Yeah I definitely see D&D motors as having this very chill vibe from the moment you walk in the door, it's just very relaxed in there. Maybe a bit too relaxed sometimes? Could see both Inui and Draken being too busy playing around and repairing bikes so they don't always notice straight away when a customer walks in (they eventually get a bell which was inspired by Kazutora walking in one day and them hearing his earring). I definitely think they would be eager to take someone on as soon as they could to do the paperwork side of things though since I feel like neither of them would want to do that part (they normally rock paper scissors for who has to do it).

As for S&S motors, I feel like they actually have the opposite vibes, at least at first. Like Shinichiro used to have a bunch of delinquents hanging out in there and I don't think that would change much in the future. So you walk in there and there are these bunch of intimidating guys hanging around who stare at you as you walk in. The intimidating vibes break though when either Shinichiro makes himself known by greeting you or someone like Benkei asks if you're ok because you look pretty anxious. Then once you get to know them it feels a lot more friendly in there. But I agree, Shinichiro would definitely be a nice boss to work for!

[pardonmydelays]

all jokes aside, our show is in sixteen days and i've never been more anxious about anything in my entire life

[thelilylav]

Crashed out about the Prime Minister calling a snap election in the reblogs and ended up getting blocked LMAOOO

[statusquoergo]

“Come on.”

“Uh?”

Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.

As if there's anything else to do today.

“I'm not going to the hospital.”

“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”

Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.

“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.

“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”

“You'll drop me.”

“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”

It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.

They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.

“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”

She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.

“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”

That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.

Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.

“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”

Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.

Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.

“You can sit on the bed.”

It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.

“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.

“Take off your shoes.”

Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.

Lucky, was it? It's about time.

The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.

“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.

[talkorsomething]

genuinely tried to Be Asleep for like two hours this time and just couldn't. I think i'm cursed [unwell]

[piracytheorist]

Idk I just really like that Twilight's reaction to being told "Your wife used to be a prostitute!" is to go like

and proceed to say how honourable and worthy of respect her dedication, self-sacrifice and mental fortitude are, and how we're shown he actually means that.

And then my girl Yor sees his reaction and hears his words and for the first time in her life she goes like "This is a man who literally just met me and has no connection to me yet he not only understands my position, he's also willing to bring himself out there and have my back when other people have free bait to judge me" and like damn how important that was to her, to have someone (who doesn't owe his survival to her like Yuri does) actually see her and respect her choices and have the absolute BEST of faiths in her. Like, what Camilla says there has the societal power to make her look like a pariah. Yet this dude comes over and without knowing anything about her, he vouches for her and immediately assumes her reasons were noble and altruistic. And though he doesn't know what profession he's actually vouching for, he's completely right in his assumption about her intentions, and considering how easily the general public judges sex workers, it's no surprise this support gives Yor the courage to believe Loid will understand her and won't think bad of her if she ever disappears on them due to her work, because he's open-minded enough for his first and immediate assumption about her is that she has good intentions.

And I just wanna SCREAM because she has absolutely no idea how little he will judge her about her assassin gig. She already considers herself lucky she's come across someone who is compassionate enough to think the best out of someone who works in a profession that is not considered "morally acceptable" by the public. But she has no idea the actual jackpot she's hit, because his own profession is far more dark and sinister yet he still has the kindness and empathy in his heart to understand people who do the same as he does.

Like, that's it with her character, isn't it? She sacrificed her own youth and morality to help Yuri grow up and be educated, and that caused him to idolize her, and because he was the only family she had left, she has been desperate to not cause any of her ties with him to break. But it also caused her impostor syndrome, and she had no confidence in any of her abilities aside from killing and cleaning up after her work, because she lives in a misogynistic society that is suspicious of unmarried women (like, that judgment alone, considering unmarried men don't experience such scrutiny, can be enough to damage a woman's psyche) and because she has been working under a man cruel enough to hire orphaned teenagers as assassins and nearly kill them in tests of their abilities ever since she was a teenager. For her it was either "I'm either perfect in something or I'm completely useless and I deserve people's judgment". Because if Yuri sees she doesn't have the perfect record, she thinks he will be horrified and she'll lose the ties to her last remaining family. And she will think she deserved that. If her killing skills waver in the slightest, she will be killed, either by enemies or by the Shopkeeper doing his little "tests". And she will think she deserved that. And if she doesn't abide by the society's expectations, she will at best be judged and mocked (for not cooking at home) and at worst get arrested (for being suspected as a spy). And she will think she deserved that.

Yet again, this stranger comes along, is told she's worked a socially shameful profession, knows she's shy and with so few connections that she can't even find someone to act as her pretend boyfriend for a party, and he supports her. And then he finds out how socially unskilled she is, how terrible she is at cooking, how she can't even pretend to kiss him for their mutual benefit, how she has the tendency to get so drunk she accidentally kicks him unconscious... And those things that she considers fatal flaws of her, he says are parts of her that she doesn't need to pretend don't exist. That's who she is, and there's nothing to fix, and she can just accept them without feeling bad or ashamed of it, that pretending she's someone else, someone perfect, will only make her miserable and exhausted.

And like... fuck. How can she not feel glad she got to marry that guy?

And how much will her heart break when she finds out he's a spy and will immediately doubt all the supportive words he's told her? And how astonishing will it be when she finds out that he actually meant pretty much everything he's told her, and that he really resonates with her and believes in her?

(anime only here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[oikarma]

lois leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: as a wonderfully clumsy f1 reporter, you're not sure how you still have your job. it might be because charles leclerc keeps swooping in to save the day.

a/n: the dates are all messed up because i had an idea then changed it so just ignore them please!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

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yourinstagram how it started vs how it's going

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user1 charles doing some mighty fine standing

user2 charles leclerc and his wife, carlos "yes i do the cooking, yes i do the cleaning" sainz

user3 so who started the fire...

charles_leclerc Y/N wanted to try cooking. yourinstagram bro?? you cannot be outing me on MY instagram user4 superman leclerc to the rescue

user5 he looks so proud of carlos 😭 my c squared heart cannot stand the 2025 changes

user6 :(

carlossainz55 My cooking was great

yourinstagram it was queen dw 🙏 carlossainz55 You burnt it to a crisp... yourinstagram carlos!! we refilmed it they're not supposed to know

user7 fav influencer i've seen in a while

user8 right? she's js so chaotic and funny user9 ofc... she's not just an influencer she's literally a reporter for f1??

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tiktok

@/landosluttywaist all the times charles has swooped in to save y/n

the infamous cord incident that started it all

saving y/n's fumbles when she's speaking

fixing her earpiece when it fell out

when y/n almost spilled water everywhere but charles steadied her hand in time

giving her his jacket because her umbrella was doing nothing in the rain

user1 you don't understand THE WAY HE JUST PUT IT BACK IN AND STARTED FLIRTING??

user2 RIGHT IT WAS FLIRTING IM NOT CRAZY user3 charles just tucked her hair behind her ear, fit the earpiece in, and went "i think you'd struggle on the pit wall" ???? user4 i would have folded.

user5 superman leclerc who

user6 y/n has GOT to be doing it on purpose atp user7 well who can blame her i too want charles leclerc to rescue me from everything going wrong in my life

user8 CHARLES GRABBED HER HAND TO SAVE THE WATER BOTTLE. I REPEAT, HE GRABBED HER HAND

user9 'if I don't save you, who will?' leclerc, ladies and gentlemen user10 may this love find me user11 that's a DIRECT QUOTE.

user11 god, i see what you have done for others

user12 u have no idea how jealous i am of her

user13 GOSH JUST MARRY HIM ALREADY ferrari liked this comment

user13 admin liked???

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by others

f1gossipofficial Wait, are we shipping the wrong duo? In a deleted story, reporter Y/N L/N and Lando Norris were out go-karting together.

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user1 babe what.

user2 first c squared and now my loisleclerc heart??

user3 loisleclerc is my new fav shipname user4 lois like lois lane? user2 yess cause he's her superman yk

user5 they look so good together

user6 charles come here

user7 ruh roh...

user8 what if they're just friends guys 😭 let's calm down

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f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N with Lando Norris's umbrella. Seems like an old story...

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user1 NO. STOP THIS. LANDO. STOP.

user2 charles rn: "that should be me."

user3 actually not okay because y/n's umbrella malfunctioned and charles gave her his jacket and lando gave y/n his umbrella and offered to dry off her puffer for her

user4 man vs boy user5 @/user4 exactly! cause charles gave her all he had and lando just took her coat. user6 guys it's not that deep it was a jacket 😅 why we acting like he was a poor man giving her his last piece of bread user7 NO BECAUSE IF HE WAS A POOR MAN AND SHE DROPPED HER BREAD HE WOULD'VE GIVEN HER HIS DO U NOT UNDERSTAND user8 gee someone's mad today user9 wait why'd he take her puffer it looks so nice user10 hoodiestealing to jacketstealing i see

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charles_leclerc has added to their stories

replies

user1 charles did ur girl break ur heart

user2 poor guy is going through it

user3 me when i'm the biggest drama queen

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tiktok

@/formulababe did he-

user1 LOISLECLERC NATION RISE

user2 we are so back baby

user3 it's giving "if you'll have me"

user4 come on y/n get your man

user5 wtf did you guys see lando reposted this

user6 that boy knows something i tell you user7 wait wasn't he the one charles was all jealous of user8 yeah they didn't speak for weeks..whenever she was interviewing carlos he would make an excuse not to be next

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The rain came down in relentless sheets, soaking through the paddock, drenching the asphalt, and making everything ten times more miserable than it needed to be. Your umbrella was supposed to help, but instead, it had turned into your worst enemy: flipping inside out every time the wind picked up, fighting against you like it had a personal vendetta.

Charles was watching.

Not helping. Not offering his usual, infuriatingly smooth rescues. Just watching.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, expression carefully neutral as you wrestled with the umbrella, microphone tucked under your arm, hair damp and sticking to your face. He could clearly see you struggling, see you fighting a losing battle against both the elements and your rapidly deteriorating patience. But instead of stepping in like he always did-like you expected him to-he just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Everything okay?" His voice was too casual, almost making you believe he wasn't enjoying this.

You huffed, aggressively shaking the umbrella in an attempt to fix it. "Just peachy."

The umbrella snapped backward again. You bit your lip to keep from cursing on live TV.

Carlos walked past, glancing up from his phone. He stepped toward you, concerned. "Need help?"

Before you could respond, Charles-who had remained annoyingly silent until now-finally spoke.

"Let her figure it out," he said smoothly, shifting his weight. "She insisted everything is under control."

Your head snapped up.

He was smirking. Bastard.

Your grip on the umbrella tightened. "I hate you," you grumbled, shaking it violently one last time.

A gust of wind chose that exact moment to hit, completely flipping the umbrella inside out and yanking it from your hands. You gasped as it went flying down the paddock, bouncing off the wet pavement like some ridiculous runaway prop.

Charles watched it go. Then-finally-he sighed.

With a shake of his head, he pulled off his Ferrari jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering just long enough to adjust it properly. The fabric was thick, warm, and slightly damp from the rain, but it was his, and it was instantly better than whatever your useless coat had been trying to do.

You stood there, stunned, heart still pounding from the sheer betrayal of the past two minutes.

"You let me suffer," you accused, looking up at him.

Charles simply grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets like he hadn’t just tortured you for sport. "You said you had it under control."

"You're insufferable."

The smirk persisted. "You’re dry now, no?"

You clenched your jaw, wrapping the jacket tighter around yourself. It smelled like him-clean, a little bit of that post-race adrenaline, and something unfairly comforting.

Charles leaned in slightly, voice just low enough that only you could hear. "Didn't think I'd actually let you freeze, did you?"

Your stomach flipped. Your face burned despite the cold.

The camera crew was still rolling, fans were definitely watching, and Charles was standing there, looking all too pleased with himself.

You turned away, grumbling under your breath.

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After years of heartbreak, years of Monaco slipping through his fingers: Charles had finally won.

He rushed towards his team, then his eyebrows furrowed as he saw you next to Fred Vasseur.

"Y/N? I thought-"

"You did it," you cut him off. "Forget about all that." You were unable to stop the way your lips curled into the widest, happiest smile. Even if Charles had ignored you-even if he'd smirking at you earlier in the most horrible way-you were happy for him. Not wasn't the time to clear things up, to get into a fight.

"I did." His voice was quieter and almost lost in all the celebrations around you. But his eyes? They were locked onto yours, unwavering.

There was no hard glint in them. No anger. Just taking all of you in, shocked to see you still supporting him.

"I'm sorry-" he began, chivalrous as always. What had happened didn't bother you anymore. You might regret it-you probably would, if it didn't end how you hoped it was going to-but your hands found his collar over the barrier. Charles reciprocated, pulling you in like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it was inevitable.

His lips were on yours.

They were warm from the adrenaline, which seemed to still course from him. Somewhere in the haze of it all, it started to make sense. Why he would step in to help you, why he was teasing you earlier.

Charles Leclerc was jealous, but not anymore.

He pulled away, eyes sparkling and hair drenched from the rain.

"You look very messed up," you got out.

"Not handsome?" Charles let out a breathy laugh and you wanted to hold that sound close to your chest forever. "Whatever. We can't always look good when we're saving the day. Besides-"

You pulled him in again for good measure.

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charles_leclerc Worth the wait ❤️ My love. Monza.

tagged: yourinstagram

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user1 THEY GOT TOGETHER

user2 finally

lando yay! woopee!

charles_leclerc Don't even get me started on the mess you caused yourinstagram charles it was literally your fault charles_leclerc ☹️ user3 i love them

user4 depending on how u read it he's saying my love (y/n), and monza are both worth the wait. or he's saying monza is his love and it's worth the wait. idk but the way he put "my love" first seperately...monaco means sm to him and she means more

user5 definitely not just a professional relationship user6 who cares they're hella cute

user7 he really said "fuck the umbrella you have me"

user8 this is such a callback...

user9 monaco?? and the love of his life?? on one day?? *liked by charles_leclerc

yourinstagram isn't he a lucky man charles_leclerc The luckiest in the world.

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a/n: i got so attached to loisleclerc that it pained me having to write charles being mean cause boy get over your jealousy NOW.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

some things are worth it

a/n: so, because i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy, especially in this au (literally had multiple dreams about him this past week) i rewatched the longest ride for the yeehaw vibes and this fantasy popped into my head.

summary: “oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

warnings: farmhand!tyler owens x farmer’s daughter!reader, smut, farmer au, bull rider!tyler, takes place before the previous fic in this au, secret relationship, bull riding (except i'm a suropean who has no idea what she's talking about, so apologies for the errors), love confession, secret relationship, kissing, clothed sex, car sex, size kink, manhandling, dry humping, dirty talk, handjob, fingering, thighjob, pussyjob, just the tip, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, why do i keep writing for this dude in the middle of the night?

word count: 4238

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Hey,” Tyler cast you a glance as you came bouncing towards where he still worked, tinkering with the tractor that had quit halfway down one of the farm’s golden fields. 

“Hello,” you blinked down at him. A rusty toolbox was planted in the wheat by his kneeling form as he fiddled away at the machinery.

“You need help with something?” he kept on twisting a bolt. 

“Oh, no,” a shy giggle bubbled out of you, “my mom just sent me down here to invite you to stay for dinner tonight. She made a pie for dessert and everything, or well, we did, I helped… it’s rhubarb, if that can help sway you.”

“Rhubarb, eh?” he puffed out a short chuckle. 

“Yeah…”

Briefly glancing back over his shoulder at you and the way your flowy dress caught on the wind, he uttered, “I’d love to, Y/n, but–, uhm… I can’t tonight.”

“Right,” you exhaled, a nod swiftly accompanying your words, “you already have plans, of course…”

“Tell your mamma I’m sorry,” he tried to soften the blow, “next time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathed, and as he returned his attention back to the machine, surely assuming that you’d bid him adieu and saunter back towards the main house, you instead shifted to lean against the tractor, “so… what are you doing tonight?”

Briefly glancing up at you, a soft smirk appeared on his lips as he purred, “you’re awfully nosy.” 

“Just tell me what your plans are,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Bull riding,” he informed you, “I ride on occasion, tonight being one of those times.”

Sucking in a breath, you uttered, “of course you do…”

Halting his tinkering with a chuckle, he pressed, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, you just got adrenalin junky written all over you, so it checks out,” you gestured towards him and he let out a small laugh, retroactively confirming your accusation. As he shifted to look for a different tool, you opened your mouth once more and asked, “can I come?”

“Come what?” his concentrated gaze didn’t meet yours. 

“See you ride.”

Tyler’s eyes then snapped up to find yours, “you wanna come see me ride?” hesitation suddenly washed over his usually confident features, “uhm… I’m not sure your daddy would like that.”

“What? Me being around a bunch of rowdy and probably drunk strangers or going somewhere to see you?”

A warm chuckle then rumbled in his chest as a gentle shake found his head, “you’re trouble…”

“Is that a no?” you tilted your head in hope. 

“No…” he slowly exhaled and met your eye once more, “no it is not.”

You cheered for him at first when his name was announced and you caught a glimpse of him behind the fence, he even found your eyes in the crowd a moment as you clapped in anticipation. But then when it actually began, you stopped breathing entirely. It didn’t matter that he only had to stay on the beast for a few seconds, your heart still wouldn’t start beating again even after his boots were back on the ground and a proud grin stretched his lips. The petrified expression plastered on your features didn’t fade even when he found you afterwards and offered you a ride back home.

“You okay?” his deep timbre ripped you out of your stormy thoughts. 

Twisting your neck to blink over at him behind the wheel of his truck, you hummed, “huh?”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” he pointed out. 

“Oh… I’m just tired, I guess…” you lied, averting your gaze before you then heard yourself utter, “hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he held his eyes on the road. 

“How is it that you haven’t been hurt yet doing all of that?”

“Oh no, I have,” a soft chuckle bubbled out of the daredevil, “just not hard enough to stop me from getting back up.” 

A murmur then escaped your lips, just beneath your breath, “either that or you’re just too determined for your own good…”

“Maybe,” he cast you a glance and smirked slightly at the embarrassment that washed over your features at the realisation that he’d heard you, “but then again, determination isn’t always a bad quality to have.”

“It is if it could get you killed.” 

“Oh, how unromantic of you,” he puffed, “I could think of a handful of ways dying would be worth whatever goal you were going for,” his eyes momentarily flickered back to you in the passenger seat beside him. 

Holding his gaze a second before he redirected it back upon the dark road, you felt goosebumps tingle your flesh. 

“Hey Tyler?” you breathed, unsure if you were able to stop the words about to flow out your mouth. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever actually gonna do anything?” your vulnerable question was barely audible. 

Not yet catching onto your subtext, he inquired, “about what?” 

Staring over at him, you uttered, “me.”

His eyes immediately fluttered back to find yours, gazing back at you a second before it faltered, “I–… I don’t know what you mean...”

“Oh, yes you do,” you tilted your head, “you flirt with me all the time, I know you do, I’m not some sheltered little virgin, I know what it looks like when someone likes me!” you felt the truck roll to a stop as you spoke. 

His firm grip stayed on the wheel long after the car had halted.

“Y/n, I–…” he tried, though gave up in a soft sigh. 

As he refused to meet your stare, you felt your stomach begin to flip.

“Oh…” you then breathed, blinking down at your hands as they fiddled with the fabric of the sundress that you wore, “unless I apparently don’t, I–… you know what? Forget it, I’m sorry,” your eyes squeezed shut at the mortification, “let’s just go back to the farm and pretend I didn’t say anything…”

Though his grip didn’t shift away from the wheel, didn’t drift down to twist the key and restart the engine. Instead, to your surprise, you saw him in your periphery twist towards you before you felt his hands come up to cup the sides of your face and pluck it out of hiding. 

Pulling you towards him, he then pressed his lips to your own, rendering you reeling to claw your way out of the stunned pit his bold actions had cast you into. 

As one of your palms slowly floated up to rest against the back of one of his, a soft sigh flowed from your form as you melted into his warmth. 

However, before you sank in and lost yourself completely, you felt him withdraw, though still remained close, letting his nose ghost against your own as he exhaled, “this is a really bad idea… we shouldn’t… I can’t afford to lose my job.” 

“Why would you think you’d lose it?” your fingers curled around the back of his hand in a plea to keep his touch glued to your heated cheek. 

“Have you met your father?” he scoffed softly, “I should be grateful if he only fires me and doesn’t outright kill me.” 

“He wouldn’t do that.” 

“You sure about that?” Tyler half-joked before slowly retracting even further. 

Blinking back at him, your lips still tingled from his kiss as you quietly said, “…I thought you were the one who just insisted that some things are worth dying for… I guess you just have to decide whether or not I could be worth that kind of risk…” 

A gentle chuckle then bubbled out of him as he gazed back at you in amazement, “you sound like a fair maiden 500 years ago,” twisting his fingers and tangling them in your own.  

Puffing out a laugh of your own, you defended, “well you started it!” before you felt one of his palms slide to the nape of your neck and tug you back in for another kiss. His lips felt like fire, though the slow smouldering kind that licked you up and ignited your entire soul, “if you don’t think it’s worth it,” you breathlessly uttered against his kiss, “then you should probably stop kissing me like that…” 

As a gentle smirk tugged at his mouth, he answered you not in the form of words, but instead drifted his hands down your frame and scooped you closer, plucking you up and lifting you into his lap, wasting no time at all to claim your lips again.

It didn’t take long after you settled above him, the wheel of the truck poking the lower part of your spine, that the slow peck evolved into something more, something else. Something that had muffled whines crawling up from the depth of your lungs and vibrating against his tongue as yours desperately danced against his own. Something that had you rolling your hips and grinding down against the hardness poking your panties so perfectly beneath the billowy fabric of your dress, the material of which had begun to ride up as Tyler’s wild touch began to wander over the curves of your frame. 

Panting into his mouth, your head started to lull slightly as you rocked down against him, the sensation being nearly too much to stand in the way it was both overwhelming yet also not at all enough. Nevertheless, if he gave you the chance, you’d surely be able to cum just like this if he let you, if he told you to desperately rut against him like some animal in heat, then you would, because that was just the effect he seemed to have on you. He was always able to turn your brain off with but a glance and nearly cause you to faint if he ever flashed you a dazzling smile. 

To say you had it bad was the understatement of the century, but evidently, and thankfully, you weren’t alone in the predicament. 

Snaking a hand down in the non-existent space between your frames, you found the bulky buckle of his belt and began to undo it. 

“Please,” you panted, your tone sounding downright pathetic, “I wanna–, can I touch you?”

And before you could fumble to do it, Tyler didn’t hesitate to undo his jeans and seize your hand, stuffing it into his pants and guiding your fingers to engulf his girth, squeezing them lightly around himself for but a moment before his touch then faded and he left you to your own devices.

“Oh, fuck–,” he growled, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “just like that.”

His cock throbbed in your palm as he kissed you once again and let his wide hands raked down to your ass, kneading your softness as he groaned against your lips.

But he didn’t let your zealous touch stretch out for that long before you heard him crack the door directly to his left open. His grip on your bottom locked securely as he got out of the truck, effortlessly carrying you with him as he made his way around towards the back.

His hold on you stayed fast as he flipped open the bed of the truck and plopped you down on the ledge. A soft giggle bubbled out of you, even as your hands came up to cup his jaw and he slotted himself in between your parted thighs. 

“Shit…” he exhaled as his gaze fluttered down to spot the damp spot decorating your underwear, neatly on show as your sundress had ridden up even further. Your legs dangled slightly off the edge as his touch then reached down to trace the mark of desperation, your bottom lip swiftly getting trapped betwixt your teeth as he rubbed you through the soaked cotton, “guess you really do have a thing for me, sweetheart,” his teasing touch traced your core as the sodden fabric clung to you, “I mean, not that I didn’t already have my suspensions…” 

“You knew?”

“You’re not exactly subtle when it comes to these things,” he chuckled before letting his fingers dip into your waistband, “it’s cute,” he smiled as your eyes fluttered when his digits swept through your folds, scooping back up to your puffy pearl as it buzzed beneath his caress, “I always enjoyed all the random little reasons you came up with just to have an excuse to talk to me.”

“Okay, I know they weren’t always that smooth,” an embarrassed heat sparked in your cheeks, “but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it is.”

“Oh, I know,” he stated casually, grinning at the way your eyes suddenly grew, “what? Did you really think I just happened to always have some work in the barn whenever you went for a ride?” one of his long fingers then eased into you, causing your mouth to fall open in a silent gasp. 

“Wait, seriously?”

“And the time I needed your help learning the system in the tool shed?” another one of his digits found its way inside of your cunt, rendering you a panting mess in his grasp as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out, stretching you till your pussy sang out for him, “I already knew where everything was.”

The reply that was ready on your tongue swiftly fizzled out and became a forgotten relic as his touch then dissipated and instead floated down to where his jeans were already half undone. Tugging it the rest of the way open, he then stuffed his hand inside and freed his cock. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes couldn’t help but stare, yearning as you watched his cock throb in his tight fist. 

“O-oh, fuck…” the curse flowed out your lungs as your gaze stayed glued, nearly drooling as he suddenly hooked his grasp behind one of your legs and yanked you closer, causing you to tumble back onto your forearms as he manoeuvred your core that much closer to him. Hooking his fingers in the material of your panties, he slid them down your legs and, to your amazement, stuffed them into his pocket. As he then began to tap the hefty weight of his length down against your puffy petals, causing glossy strings of your desire to cling onto him and keep you ethereally attached, your eyes snapped back up to find his and the same whimper left your body once again, “oh, f-fuck…”

Trailing the bulbous tip through your wetness, he teasingly nudged the head against your swollen clit fiercely enough to make your whole frame twitch beneath him. 

“God… you feel so good…” he groaned, staring down at how his fat cock slid through and parted your glistening folds.

“Uh, Tyler–,” you begged hazily, your little hole winking every time he denied it any attention, “p-please–”

“What is it, baby?” he cooed smugly, “you want me to fuck you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded foggily, your gaze flickering back down to watch his teasing. 

“You wanna know what my cock feels like inside your pretty little pussy, huh?” his touch then dented your thighs, pressing both of your legs together, enclosing them around his girth and resting your ankles atop one of his broad shoulders. 

“P-please–”

“Is it all you’ve been thinking about?” the softness of your thighs interlocked around him lend him to snap his hips against yours and freely fuck your folds, the underside of him sliding against the seem of your cunt, “what’s been occupying that brilliant brain of yours?” he smirked and you couldn’t help but rock back against his efforts, “because it’s all I’ve been thinking about… how warm you must feel around me, how tight, how fucking wet, how–, fuck!” he then moaned as the way you’d needily tilted your hips up towards him lend his length to accidentally catch your leaking hole and sink in just the slightest bit till he halted his movements.

A shuttering gasp escaped you as well at the sensation as he’d nearly caused tears to roll down your cheeks from how badly you wanted him. 

As he caught your eye, his grip digging into your legs in order to hold on to his last strand of self-control, you panted up at him just as he was about to pull back out, “don’t stop.”

Staring down at you, absorbing your every reaction, he slid the tip back out, but so painstakingly slow that it caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

“But what if I did though? What if I just stopped, right here, right now? Just drove you back to the farm and left you a needy little puddle just like this?”

“No, don’t stop! Don’t–, I–…” your walls clung around his girth, “please just keep going, it can just be the tip, I just–, don’t stop…”

When just the memory of him kissed your entrance, he gently sank back in and stuffed the bulbous head inside your cunt, “you sure you just want the tip?” he slowly found a pattern, fucking you with just the essence of him, “you sure you don’t wanna feel me so deep inside of you that you won’t be able to walk afterwards? That you’ll still be able to feel what we did for days and days?”

Blinking up at him, your legs trembling against his chest, you breathed, “I–…” till your dizzy head began to rock in a nod. 

“Yeah?” he cocked his head and flashed you a smug smile, “then beg for it.”

“Please fuck me–”

“What was that?”

“F-fuck me–”

“What, like I am right now?” he rolled his hips to just shyly plug you up. 

“No, fuck me for real,” your words felt not your own as they desperately flowed out of you, “fuck me exactly like you’ve been dreaming of since we first met, since you first–, ah!” all of the air was then forced out of your lungs as he slammed the remainder of himself all the way inside, stretching you wide of him and letting the tip, the very part of him that had been driving you mad, kiss the deepest part of you and cause your eyes to flutter shut. 

Your knees bent and crumbled down to curl up beside your chest as he meticulously slid halfway out, only to jam his dick back inside. 

He was practically growling above you, sinful grunts rhythmically flowing from his lips at every one of his frantic thrusts.

“Oh my god,” you cried beneath him as your cunt swiftly began to flutter around him, “you f-feel so–, so–, g-good!”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked and then perceptively asked, “are you gonna cum?” leaning down over you as he kept up his efforts. 

You tried to offer him an answer, but in the blissful abyss he’d cast you down in, you could only nod and squeeze your eyes further shut. 

“Then look at me, baby,” you sensed his fingers curl around your cheek, his reach dipping into your hairline, “be a good girl and look at me when you cum around my cock,” and when you managed to force your hazy eyes to blink back open, he stared back down at you as your cunt clenched down around him so fiercely that you nearly forced his girth out entirely, “there you go, fuck…”

But as your high began to melt away into sensitivity, the blonde farmhand didn’t slow his efforts in the slightest, moaning above you as he also was too close to cum to simply stop.

“Tyler, it’s too–,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking on either side of his frame as the creamy aftermath of your orgasm created a ring around the base of his cock and aided his erratic efforts, lending the entirety of his length to plunge back into you with such ease, even as your walls quaked and squeezed tightly around him. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he uttered hazily, “fucking take it, fucking–, ahh!” his hips then shuttered as he tumbled over the edge and pumped you full of his hot load. 

When Tyler one day had an errand to run, some thingy he had to pick up at a neighbouring farm, you hadn’t really paid attention to that part, you had kinda just stopped listening after the discovery that you would get to tag along simply because the neighbour knew you better than him. 

So, once you were both waiting on the ground for the farmer to return with the item, just a curious look to make the time pass by morphed into the pair of you full-on wandering around and being more nosy than what was good for you. 

Though the snooping halted once you pushed open the door to the westernmost barn and discovered a DIY contraption that tickled Tyler’s nostalgia. 

It was a tin barrel, strung up with ropes and tied to a few beams, though he still had to open his mouth for you to fully understand how it was a homemade training tool for when you first began learning how to ride a bull.

By then, some of the fear you’d felt the night you had watched him ride had overflowed and spilt out, which surely also was the reason behind why he suddenly insisted on you hopping on and letting him try to teach the terror out of you. 

“So, like that?” you asked, one of your hands hovering above the one you clutched around the makeshift loop tied around the uppermost quadrant of the barrel you straddled. 

“Almost, you’re only allowed to hold on with the one hand,” he pointed out and you swiftly adjusted, raising your left hand up high just as you remembered he’d done, “yeah, there you go.”

“So, just eight seconds like this?” your thighs squeezed around the drum as Tyler gently tugged on one of the ropes, only making you sway slightly. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as you glanced over at him, “and then there are other things that can get you more points, like how well you hold your balance and if you’re able to control the bull or not, those kinds of things.” 

He then caught you off guard by pulling on the rope a little rougher and offering you a much harsher and more realistic buck of the barrel, though, to your shock, you reacted to it surprisingly well, clenching your thighs and tightening your grip. 

“Atta girl,” he grinned at the startled chuckle that bubbled out of you, “see? It’s not so scary. You’re a natural.”

“Or maybe you’re just going easy on me…” you pointed out, reflecting on how the love you’d had for riding horses since a very young age surely kicked in and aided you in this skill as well. 

“You’re doing great,” he stated, his stare staying glued to how your body and hips swayed borderline sensually to the rhythm he kept up, “relax, give in to the movements more.” 

“How?”

“Just–…” he sucked in a breath, “pretend that you’re on something else…” a sly smirk then spread across his features before he uttered, “pretend that it’s me you’re riding.”

You then promptly felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, as it became impossible to keep up your concentration on the task at hand and swiftly heard yourself shriek, “oh my god, Tyler Owens!”

Letting go of the rope, he stepped closer to you and enjoyed your flustered visage, “or better yet, maybe I should just let you hop on and teach you that way,” he let his palm slide up your leg as he came to stand beside you. 

“You’re ridiculous!” you laughed.

Snaking his hands around your waist, he then effortlessly lifted you back down onto the ground and uttered, “you love it.”

As you felt his breath fan across your features, your giggle got caught in your throat and faded away as you gazed back at him. 

“Yeah, I think I might…” you then whispered before he crashed his lips against yours. 

His boots then began to shuffle as yours did as well, letting him shift you till your spine collided with the gate to one of the empty stalls in the dusty barn. Pushing you up against it as he ravenously kissed you, one of his wide palms then swooped up from his fast hold on your waist to caress the soft peak of your boob through the thin layer of your tanktop. 

A breathy moan couldn’t help but slip up from your lungs when his kisses then faded from your lips and began to dance down the side of your neck. 

“Okay, easy there, tiger,” you caught his head in your hands as his sloppy pecks fluttered against your rapid pulse, “we can’t do anything here.”

“Oh yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow as he peeked up at you, “is that a dare?”

“No,” you chuckled, then reminded him of your neighbour, “he’ll be back any second.”

A groan then seeped through his grin before he pushed himself off of you, “fine…” yet still held his burly arms stretched out and fast on either side of you, supporting his weight against the half wall behind you and doing his very best to stop himself from diving back in.

But then you slowly let yourself float back into his space, “hey,” and tilted your chin to catch his gaze, “I said not here, not that we shouldn’t give it a try…”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

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Disappointed in the Vander backstory

I fully expected that it was coming, but I'm disappointed in the timeline all the same.

The "Vander got upset because a fight against Piltover Silco instigated killed the woman he loved" was literally my first draft for my longfic Fathers and Daughters, and I ended up scrapping it because I felt it was too cheap and wouldn't justify the violence of his actions against Silco.

"When she died I lost my head" he says in the letter.

But when she died you actually dropped your gauntlets and picked up the girls and everyone has been assuming this was the moment you swore off violence...

The fact she goes on to let Vander name her kid, and seems to be thick as thieves with them, and ALSO tells them of the pregnancy before she builds up the courage to tell her partner... Tells me that surely... SURELY by the time Vi is 10-11, whatever she is on the bridge in season 1, she would KNOW SILCO as her mom's bestie, no??? Not just Vander.

It feels like this entire angle is pulled under the rug to simplify the conflict in act 1.

I do appreciate being right on the money with Silco knowing and being friends with the mom, and having known Vi as a baby. I think it makes sense, especially if he was an important community leader.

I just hate her death being the catalyst of Vander's actions against Silco. It means that the timeline actually like this:

Mom-Silco-Vander are best friends. Silco is "Bozo 1" and has been leading the transformation of the Lanes with Vander's help. He's already planning his nation of Zaun. His notebook is literally saying "NZ" for Nation of Zaun.

At an ONGOING confrontation with enforcers, Silco throws a molotov cocktails that doesn't seem to even kill an enforcer (Powder and her innefectual bombs parallel? The entire scene is intercut with the monkey bomb clapping so... The scene leading to a friend's death also parallels the events of Jinx's birth.)

As the smoke clears/the POV looks down, we have the reveal that the girls' Mom is dead.

Vander admits the blood was on his hands as well, meaning he either started this confrontation with Silco, or fought just as badly/increased the violence (and we see him murder enforcers later on). Anyway he admits to carrying the blame, and apologized in person to Silco for the dubbed "betrayal".

Then he went home, shaved, dragged Silco into the Pilt, and tried to drown him *because their common friend died at the failed uprising*.

He's then haunted, seemingly, by visions of Silco being dead:

To me it's sort of weaker and sadder, as it establishes Vander as someone more flawed and less ruthless. It's not that he wanted the Lanes, it's not that Silco was getting in the way of what he wanted.

Vander was out there happy with everything they were dishing out, right until their actions cost the life of a friend, and he broke, emotionally, and BLAMED it on Silco, going so far as to kill him (or try).

He surrendered his gauntlets, picked the children up, tucked them in at home, shaved (I cannot stress this enough), then took Silco into the fucking river and brutally attempted to murder him.

Then he massively regretted it and left little breadcrumbs of apologies in case Silco found them and returned to him.

So, canon couple, first off lol

Fellas, is it gay to hang your jackets inside each other's in your secret hideout? Is it gay that all your core hidden memories begin with your mate smiling at you?

Yes, yes it is. Zaundad is canon and I'm not taking commentary.

Secondly, that means Vander was an emotional ticking time bomb who wasn't ready for the price to sacrifice in order to gain their freedom. I really wonder what the alternative reality would have been like, were Silco the one dying on that bridge.

Anyway, it brings some twisted sadness to the situation, because the mom wanted Zaun "no matter what" for Vi's sake, her child's future. But Vander decided that lives weren't worth spilling over that dream and tried to kill Silco over it, before teaming up with Grayson to continue enforcing a status quo.

So that means that Silco, even as he raises Jinx, is continuing her mother's dream, of building Zaun, a country that's safe for her children, "no matter what".

But very sadly the show also acts like Silco doesn't know the kids, and like the kids don't know him. Powder, sure, but Vi not knowing Silco is just downright stupid. Not even knowing him by name? When her mom was out fighting alongside him??? The mom is ALSO a miner, very clearly working with Silco and Vander, alongside the nameless poor husband.

I feel like this doesn't really solve the issues that were already raised when we speculated about act 1. It just clarifies that Vander was truly, willfully a force of oppression inside the fissures, working against the revolution necessary for Zaun becoming possible.

But it implies Silco didn't recognise Powder and Vi, and that Vi didn't recognise him or understand how he knew Vander. It's a disservice to the story, because that tie, that old bond, could really have worked to dramatize the sacrifices Silco is ready to make, as well as the depth of Vi's hatred for him.

But the show acts like they're strangers and that Vander's death is the core beef between them until Jinx enters the picture.

And then there's the Benzo scene, when Vander holds his wound from Silco's knife, and says "we both know there's worse than enforcers out there" WHO ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT??? Yourself? You seem to be the worst thing around here! It seems clear he knew Silco was alive but had nothing to blame him for by then.

I'm left with holes that take the shape of "shock value" and "plot twist".

"Ooooh Silco knew the mom, twiiiist, but please don't think about the implications, because we wrote season 1 without taking this in consideration."

Feels like another job for fic writers, but IDK if I have the strength for it. I just like my own version better.

At least now we know that Silco did not IN FACT DO anything to "deserve" what he got. I'm sorry, but throwing a molotov at enforcers when fighting for your freedom is based and Vander was dishing death right there next to him.

The base violence necessary for change, eh? Vander just delayed the price being paid for Zaun's creation.