#if you have to push them to be something you want them to be you don’t love THEM you love the image you’ve created in your head for them to

[comicaurora]

How do you manage to motivate yourself when you're feeling tired or depressed?

Usually I try to give myself time to rest until those feelings lessen, since they're generally symptomatic of having pushed too hard, but on occasions where tiredness seems to be getting a little too cozy with depression, there's a few things I do.

I've observed in myself a habit of sort of… waiting in a holding pattern for something to push me into action. "Something" isn't defined clearly, but it becomes a real problem on depressed or low-executive-function days. This might just BE what low executive function feels like, tbh; like there's some invisible trigger and I can't Do The Thing until something trips it. When I notice I'm stuck in a holding pattern, I have a few tricks to snap myself out of it:

Flip a coin. Heads I get up and Do The Thing, tails I don't. The simple act of challenging myself is enough to motivate me sometimes, regardless of the outcome, but sometimes this makes me realize that I am legitimately tired, so I stay put and recharge a little until I want to flip for it again.

Set a five- or ten-minute timer and do whatever I need to do until the timer runs out. An artificial deadline can bypass the holding pattern. Sometimes this gives me momentum, and when the timer runs out I keep going. Sometimes this does NOT build momentum, and I crash after the timer runs out - but I crash with five more minutes of progress done. Any progress is better than no progress.

Assume Direct Control. This one only works sometimes, but sometimes it's as simple as breaking down a list of individual units of tangible progress - Get Off Of Bed, Put On Pants, Plug In Tablet, Etc Etc - and just grab the manual controls in my brain and make myself do each thing in turn. Sometimes I'll assume direct control to make myself take a Stupid Mental Health Walk, which has thus far worked every time to improve my mood and energy even though when I am in a Low Mood the last thing I want to do is subject myself to the mortifying ordeal of wearing pants and dealing with people.

I also find that sometimes it's helpful to pull the thread of what you're waiting for. Sometimes I'll realize I've locked myself into a weird paralysis because I've accidentally made something a prerequisite for other tasks. For example, I might realize I'm feeling weirdly frozen and uncomfortable because I haven't taken out the trash, and I've told myself I can't do X Y and Z until the trash is taken out, but I don't want to take out the trash, so I've locked X Y and Z behind Unpleasant Task in a subconscious attempt to motivate myself to Do The Task but instead I've just dramatically reduced the number of things I feel I can do. Often just noticing this pattern is enough to break out of it.

I also find that sometimes the invisible trigger I'm waiting for is just waiting to want to do something. That is unfortunately a trap. There are many things you can enjoy or benefit from without wanting to do them beforehand, because the thought of it is unpleasant or scary or anxiety-inducing or otherwise loaded down with what-ifs and caveats. I will never WANT to have a doctor's appointment, but I feel very good AFTER arranging and going to one. I very rarely WANT to exercise, but after the fact I feel very rewarded and more confident in my abilities. I've only WANTED to go on like a third of the walks I've taken this year, but every single one of them has been pleasant and beneficial to my mental health. Sometimes you just gotta say "I don't WANT to do it, but I'll be glad I did it" and manually pilot yourself into Doing It.

[entitled-fangirl]

Manhood. (P3).

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

Summary: Cregan fulfills his wet dream, doing something the two lovers haven't done before

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), dry humping, heavy makeout, dirty talk

part 1, part 2

Masterlist

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Now becoming comfortable with one another, the two lovers spent little time outside of the bed chambers.

It became a fun game of trying a new position every night, eager to find their favorites. 

But it left them utterly exhausted when the adrenaline died down. 

It caused the burly northern man to fall asleep in odd places.

…

She found him in his study, his head resting on the wooden desk as he slumbered peacefully. A light snore came from his lips. 

She chuckled and stepped into the room as quietly as she could.

Her fingers brushed over his shoulder over his clothing, savoring the shudder that came over him and the small whine that echoed in the room.

She smirked and leaned over him, pressing herself against the back of his chair. Her lips brushed up his neck to his ear, "Cregan, my love."

Still fast asleep, a fluttering behind his eyes began to occur. 

And judging by the way his hips began to lightly rut against nothing, she could tell what kind of dream he was having. 

Whines and groans began to string from his lips as she trailed her hands over his shoulders and arms.

She tried to rouse him again, "Cregan, wake up."

He let out a soft breath. 

She gave it one last try, kissing fervently up his neck and jaw. "Cregan." Kiss. "Wake up." Kiss. "C'mon." Kiss. "Awaken, handsome man." Kiss.

She sucked a sensitive spot under his jaw, and Cregan tilted his head to give her more room. The feeling began to wake him up.

He whispered her name lightly, and his eyes fluttered open. 

She rubbed a hand over his hair comfortingly. "Sleep well?" A teasing smile came over her face.

"Hmm?" He was thoroughly confused. He pushed himself up and began to take in his surroundings. "W…" It only then really washed over him the dream he had and the reality around him.

"You alright?" She teased further as her hands continued their movement.

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm better than alright."

"I noticed." She tugged his hair playfully, "Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?"

"Why?" He grinned. "You wanna know what my mind imagined?"

"Dare I say I want it to be about me and only me?"

He hummed. "Would you?"

She grinned. "Are you still tired?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

The two grinned from ear to ear. Y/n spoke first. "To bed?"

Cregan stood, knocking the chair over but not caring. He grinned and grabbed her roughly by her waist, pulling her against him. He kissed her deeply.

He pulled away. "To bed."

…

The two pulled the other's clothes off in a rush, not caring if they tore.

The kisses were so forced that their teeth clashed together, only caring to feel the other as close as possible.

She pushed him onto the bed, straddling him as her hands wandered over his bare chest.

"T… Tell me what you dreamed of…" she panted into his mouth.

He took a moment to drink her in, enjoying the thoroughly dazed look in her eyes. "You."

She smirked, "What about me?"

He pulled his face away from hers. He kissed her cheek, then down her jaw, teasing her by repeating her motions from earlier.

"I imagined your pretty thighs wrapped around my head," he whispered in her ear. 

Still straddling him, she froze in place. "W…What?"

"I have dreams of devouring you in the most sinful ways," he admitted.

They had done every position they could think of. Any way to being the two pleasure. But never had they done that.

"But… why would you do that?"

Her quiet, confused ask took him out of the moment. "What do you mean?"

"Is that… pleasureful? For both of us?"

He reached up with a hand and caressed her cheek. "Oh, I'll find pleasure it in. Don't you fret."

"Are you sure?" She asked hesitantly.

"More than anything," he grinned.

He slowly laid down, resting his back on the bed. His head wasn't far from the headboard, but it would do. "Come, sit."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Are you only going to ask questions, or are you going to sit on my face, sweet girl?" He chuckled.

"But-"

He sat back up, holding her to him, "Do you not want to do this? I won't be angry."

"I do, but…" 

He tilted his head, playing with her hair as he waited for her response.

"But… how will you breathe?"

That was the one question he was sure of. "I'll be fine. If that's your only worry, then you might as well not worry at all."

She reached down to pull the rest of her small clothes off, and Cregan laid back down with a beaming smile.

Up on her knees over him, she began pulling her garments down, then hesitated. "You'll tell me if you want to stop?"

He let out a growl, grabbing the back of her thighs and pulling her up his body until her core hovered over his face, "I won't wanna stop. You're gonna tell me when you want to stop."

She held onto the headboard for balance, not expecting his sudden manhandling.

He reached up and tore her garments, revealing her to him. His mouth almost watered at the sight. "Got that?"

She nodded, "Alright."

"Now sit."

Still holding to the headboard, she slowly lowered her body.

Cregan leaned up a bit, bumping his nose against her clit.

She whimpered immediately. 

"C'mon. You can do better than that," he spoke against her slit. His breath sent a shiver up her spine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered under her breath.

Her body still hovered over him, and he was getting annoyed. He reached up to her waist and gently pushed her down, connecting his lips to her core and licking a long stripe up her folds. 

She let out a small shriek of surprise. Her hips instinctively moved back up to escape the pressure. 

Cregan mouth followed, breaking apart for only a moment before his hands wrapped around her thighs and pulled her down onto his face completely. 

As he began to suck and lick like a starved man, she held to the headboard as her only lifeline. His beard scratched at her just right. Her hips tried to jerk away, but Cregan's iron grip on her thighs kept her from doing so. 

Deep guttural moans came from her, encouraging Cregan to continue. "D… Don't stop… I c… oh, gods…"

She could feel his teeth against her, an obvious grin on the man's face as he ate her out.

One of his hands wandered up, the other keeping a firm grip on her leg. He caressed up her stomach and cupped her breast.

She placed her hand over his, encouraging him further as he began to tweak her nipple. 

He knew her body more than she did. He knew she wouldn't last much longer. 

His hand moved to her backside, and he flipped them, now pinning her down onto the mattress and beginning again from this new position. 

Her hands reached out to the sheets, grabbing at anything she could to help the pressure subside. 

Cregan pulled away for just a moment to see what he'd done. His lips and beard were smeared with her juices, and a hungry look remained in his eyes. "You want me to keep going?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

Her chest moved up and down with shaky breaths, "Please, Cregan…" He leaned down, pausing just centimeters from her again, "This is exactly how the dream went."

Learning from before, he gripped her hip bones tightly to hold her still, his shoulders keeping her legs open. He then continued.

She reached down, grabbing his hair and tugging, as if it would pull him away. They both knew neither of them wanted him to do so, but the pleasure that was building up in her made her instinctively try to escape it.

But the harsh tugging caused a guttural groan to leave his lips. The vibrations caused a jolt up her spine.

Cregan began to lightly hump the mattress, trying to relieve the hard on he had gained since his dream in his study.

"So good," he muttered against her as his hips moved in a steady pattern.

"I need to… I…"

"I know, I know," his muffled coo sounded out.

Her entire body tensed, the feeling of her orgasm washing over her. She tried to pull at his hair again to get him away from tasting her, but Cregan was quicker. He held her down and drank up everything she gave him.

Finally giving in to her, he pulled away. 

She was utterly spent, a light sheen of sweat over her features, but her eyes shone brightly as she looked down at him. "Was this truly your dream?" She panted.

He pushed himself up and crawled over her to kiss her. The slick covering the lower half of his face came in contact with her face, but neither cared. 

His tongue pushed past her lips, exploring her mouth just as he had with her most intimate parts- both with the intent to please her.

"Just like it," he answered when he pulled away. "Only, your sounds are much sweeter when I know for certain that they're real."

 "Oh, they're very real," she grinned. "How did you know how to do all of that?"

His confidence turned to sheepishness, "I didn't. I was faking my confidence mostly. I just did what made you feel best."

She nodded, surprised by his honest confession. Her hand wandered down his chest to his small clothes, "Perhaps it is y-"

She paused, looking down at her hand.

Cregan's small clothes were wet. 

She paused, "Did you-"

"You tasted so good," he admitted with a cocky grin. "Couldn't help it."

It filled her with pride to know that her husband found his own pleasure from merely eating her out.

"Next time," she promised. "I'll focus on you, my love."

"Your attention is all I crave in this life," he smiled, kissing her again.

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

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Guys I'm gonna pass out. He spoke to me this morning. Rahhh😭

♥︎~

"I dunno, girls. This is Bakugo we're talking about, Mr. 'I don't have time for your feelings'. What if he laughs at me when I tell him? I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the school!" You whine, burying your head into Jirous shoulders as she hugs you tightly.

"Well he'd have to be an ass to want to spread your name like that." The girl concludes, patting your back softly.

Suddenly, Mina is behind Jirou, using dainty fingers to lift your face up. She fixes the loose strands and tucks them behind your ears and whips out a tube of lip gloss.

"Pucker up, buttercup." She whispers, and you pout as she applies a layer of shiny pink to your lips. "Fix your posture. Your man is coming up the steps." She giggles, and you immediately stiffen, smoothing out your skirt while shooting her a glare.

Cautiously, you turn around, and sure enough, Kirishima is chatting up a storm to an obviously annoyed Bakugo. Your face heats up, and a shy smile meets your lips as the rest of them giggle behind you.

"Y/n, tell him good morning!" Mina whisper-yelled to you, almost laughing loudly at the horrified expression you have on your face.

"Me?! Why can't you do it?" You cry silently.

"Because I'm not into him! You are!"

You stood there, heart hammering in your chest, frozen as Bakugo and Kirishima approached. Mina and Jirou had fallen suspiciously quiet behind you, their earlier teasing replaced with expectant silence. You desperately wished you could disappear, every second feeling like an eternity.

Kirishima, all smiles and sunshine as usual, waved enthusiastically. “Morning, ladies!” he greeted cheerfully, stopping just in front of your little group.

“Hi, Kiri,” Mina returned with a grin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a word. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on the ground, hoping maybe—just maybe—you could get through this without embarrassing yourself.

Bakugo stayed a step behind Kirishima, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His usual scowl was fixed on his face, and the sight of him only made your nerves worse. He looked as irritable as ever, clearly annoyed to be dragged into this situation. You didn’t dare say anything, your throat tightening with every passing second.

Kirishima’s gaze shifted between you and Bakugo, catching onto the awkward tension. He gave Bakugo a not-so-subtle nudge with his elbow, grinning like he knew something the rest of you didn’t, which he did.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shooting Kirishima a sharp glare before looking back at you. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might just ignore the situation altogether.

But then, in a voice so low you almost missed it, he mumbled, “Morning.”

It wasn’t enthusiastic. It wasn’t friendly. But it was something. And coming from Bakugo, it felt like a monumental effort.

Your heart skipped a beat, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to respond, but all you could manage was a small, "Hi".

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Who in their right mind says 'hi' to their crush?

Behind you, Mina and Jirou exchanged glances, but they didn’t push you this time. They stayed quiet, sensing that you were too shy to say anything. The silence hung in the air for a moment before Kirishima laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Guess we’ll see you around! Class starts in a few.” he said, tugging Bakugo by the sleeve to move him along.

Bakugo huffed in annoyance but didn’t resist, glancing back at you for the briefest moment before following Kirishima down the hall and through the doors of 1A.

You stood there, still unable to speak, replaying that one word over and over in your head, with your cheeks rivalling Kirishima's hair.

He said "morning."

To you.

♥︎~

Pt 1

Taglist : @vant3hell @succulent-momma @minkyungseokie

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[bunnys-kisses]

hi can I please make an order of crème caramel, berry trifle, mango sorbet and a spicy upside down cake with a side of lemon water served by Max Verstappen please? Sorry it's a bit long tho...

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu, i'd love to hear your order! and thank you to everyone who submitted orders! i am working through them!!

crème caramel ("oh. you thought you were getting away from me?" ) + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + mango sorbet ("you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?") + spicy upside down cake ( "let's play a game: don't get caught.") + lemon water (university/college au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, university au, bully!max, mean!max, semi-public sex, library sex, fwb gone horrible, dirty talk/degrading language, obsessive!max, oral sex (max receives), choking/deep throating

"where are you going, schat?" max loomed over you like a heavy cloud as he placed his hands on your hips. he held you like he owned you, and in all fairness... sometimes it felt like he did.

you thought the one time you'd try to have a one night stand that everything would go swimmingly. but you picked the wrong man on campus.

graduate student, about three years your senior. with hands like bear paws and about the same strength as one in his grip. and he held you in the middle of the library.

"you just came in and now you're turning around in leaving? surely you had something to do here today. it was close to eight in the evening, the library was next to dead. you remained silent for a moment before he added, "oh. you thought you were getting away from me? is that it, you thought you could leave before i found you?"

you swallowed and lied, "i forgot something."

he chuckled as he leaned in a little closer, "was it your panties? because i found them in my car yesterday. pink with flowers? they kept me busy all of last night when you were ignoring my texts." he held onto you a little tighter, "it's not polite to ignore me, liefje."

the issue was that you wanted a one night stand with someone outside of your little english department. so you ended up with a geography graduate student... however, after that night, max became your shadow.

"what did you do to my panties, max?"

he let go of you and turned you in his arms. he smiled at you, the kind of smile that most at the school would trip over themselves to see. but you could see something else in those blue eyes, "don't worry, i washed them when i was done." then leaned in to kiss you on the cheek.

you pulled back a little, but couldn't go far as he had you basically trapped against him. you could call for help, but the student librarian at the front desk was more occupied with her phone.

max pulled your attention back to him as he said, "why don't we study together? think of it like a date."

you'd never date someone like max. not even as his thumbs tried to push up your t-shirt a little, you managed to get away. you swallowed, you could run and hide. but, max had more eyes on the school than cameras. someone would catch a glimpse of you somewhere on campus and max would find you.

max verstappen was denied very little in his life. and he wasn't going to start of trend of not getting his way.

"so why were you running away, my love?" he asked as he pressed himself up against you. his strong arms were around you middle as he pressed you to him. he smiled was threatening and you felt a cold chill down your spine.

"i told you. i forgot something." you tried to use the last bit of fight in you. but those eyes of his were all knowing.

"wrong. try again." he said before he went in and kissed you on the cheek, "i remember our first night together. you made me feel like nothing else could. you made me feel alive. i hate when you run away from me." he kissed the corner of your lip softly, "now, why don't we study tonight."

you looked up at him. he was a bit taller than you and for sure stronger. the gaze in his eyes warmed up when you nodded, accepting his offer for studying.

see, you knew what max needed. he wanted to be closer to you, he wanted to feel you all over. he even wanted to take you out on dates and make you the center of his world. he was obsessed with you, and you just needed to see that he loved you. but that meant less struggling.

he led you into the back of the library, the furthest part with two chairs in a desk. there was no one else around for a good while. most had left for the evening. which left you alone with max.

"liefje." he said as he sat on the chair and unzipped his fly, "come here." it was a siren's call before he sank his teeth into you. before he ripped you to shreds and drag you under the waves.

you knew what you had to do, you were thankful that the pants you wore were comfy because you knew that one round, even in a semi-public space, wouldn't be enough for max. you knew another pair of your panties would end up in his car.

he watched you lower to your knees and licked his lips, you looked like a doll to him. he said quietly, "let's play a game: don't get caught." before he ran his hands through your hair.

your face was up against his cock and you shuddered a little bit. the size of it was impressive and it made your mouth water a little. this was how he trapped you. the allure of his heavy cock in your face.

with a small whine he pushed your face further against his cock and you had no choice but to take it in your mouth. but few pleasantries were made when he got the tip up against your throat. you whined a little bit, it was almost a whorish noise as you relaxed against his grasp.

mad max, mean max, whatever you wanted to call him. you felt almost at home on your knees in front of him. he was your hook up gone wrong. horribly wrong.

his voice was a curl in your brain and made you shift a little bit on the carpeted ground, "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?" he knew you had to take an extra semester because you failed a course. in a slight fairness it was max's fault, he wouldn't let you go write your final exam. too busy bruising that cunt of yours well into the morning.

even if you tried to write the exam all your brain cells were gone due to how hard hew as fucking you. even now, with his cock in your throat, you felt a loss in most brain activity. no higher thinking while he was choking you on his cock.

you felt amazing around his cock, there were few words to describe how it all felt. he could feel the flutter in his chest as he rammed his cock up against your throat. and when you made a choking noise, he told you to "shut up." before he kept battering his cock up against the back of your throat.

you looked up at him, your eyes looked so innocent as he pressed his cock into your throat as deep as it would go. he still had a lot to teach you about deep throating, but for now he'd take a small pleasure in your choked noises.

"such a pretty girl." he said, "you look so good on your knees. is this how you were passing all your courses? pretty blouses and dick sucking lips." he chuckled lowly as he gripped onto your head further.

you whimpered a little bit as you held onto his strong thighs as you worked yourself onto his cock. you felt the buzz in your head as you continued to move your head.

"this is how i like you. i don't get why you don't understand that. most would kill for a chance to be in your spot. but you get it so easily." he said in a low, harsh tone.

you whined a little bit and arched your back. you felt your body splashed with heat. you trembled a little bit with a certain want. max verstappen knew how to play you like a fiddle. he knew how to take you apart and put all your pieces back together as he liked them.

"such a good girl for me. i'm glad i got a hold of you before you became a slut. now you can't cum on anyone's dick but mine." he said harshly.

in the back corner of the library you gave him head. your brain felt unfocused as he bullied the tip up against your pretty throat. he wanted to bruise it so you couldn't talk for a few days.

"no need to speak words, liefje. not when your boyfriend could do all the talking for you." he said and the words marked on your brain and made your core soaked.

"max." you tried to say with his cock in your mouth.

"shush." he said.

you looked at him once more before his grip on you started to tighten even more. he pushed his cock up against your throat once more, you knew it would be bruised come morning.

you whined and relaxed yourself enough for him to finish down your throat. he groaned and held onto you as he finished in your mouth. you tasted the saltiness down your throat. and your mind went little a blurry for a moment.

when you got your mouth off his cock, you rested your face on his thigh and looked up at him. max was almost sweet when he brushed the side of your face.

"you should be studying how to make me feel good. stupid little thing already knows enough about english." he pinched your cheeks, "be my bride."

you pouted a little, your lips glossed with spit and pre cum, "no, max."

he sighed before he gripped your hair again, "enough thinking. get on the table. i'm not done with you." max knew you inside and out, no other man on campus could compare to him. he'll teach you eventually, that his love was the only one you needed.

[crookedteethed]

18+ various kinks, slight smut, hints of dub con/non-con kink

⋆ ★ Thinking about the Rafe's and their specific kinks <3

Season One Rafe would so be into doing lines of coke off your body--bonus points if you are about to do it behind the big rock at the beach or on his balcony during one of his Kook parties because he's also a bit of an exhibitionist. 

It felt decadent to Rafe to pull out your perfectly plush tits (or your ass) and sprinkle a bit of that angel dust down the valley of your breast. He wouldn't snort it immediately; he'd wait until he had his thick length inside your sopping wet cunt--and then he'd snort the line, engulfed in your deliciousness. 

Fuck did Rafe love your body, but fuck did he love coke--so why not mix the two?

Rafe had adorned the thrill he got when he got that first hit of blow mixed with the thrill he got when he'd first plunged into your cunt; it often made him want to fuck you harder until your nose bleed.

If he couldn't fuck you hard enough until your nose bleed, he would settle for bruising your skin with big love bits and hickies--it had something to do with his male ego.

In a way that was larger then just decadence, Season One Rafe loved the thrill he gotten for knowing he has and will be the only man that's been inside you.

Like all the times he would purposely brush your gums with coke on his fingers, and then put you in a jaw gripping kiss, just to lick your mouth clean, all while sitting across from Kelce and Topper.

He loved the power it gave him knowing he was the only person that could use you like this.

Season Two Rafe always found himself palming or adjusting his cock at your innocence.

I mean, fuck, how could he not get hard when you're kneeling on your knees in front of him, wide eyes and mouth full of his cock, asking him, "Like this?" Because you've never sucked dick before. 

And though Rafe did love the more skilled girls--he loved how he never had to tell them what to do--Rafe also had loved your naiveness and your naiveness with a cock. 

Did you sometimes use your teeth when blowing him? Maybe. 

But it's not like Rafe could scorn you about it; he knew that you simply didn't know any better, and that's why Rafe was the one to be your first everything so he could teach you better.

Apart from Rafe and his attraction to your innocence, he also had a kink for destroying that innocence. 

Fuck he thought he was going to bust his load when he finally coerced you into doing coke for the first time. 

Rafe had been low himself, so he wanted to make someone who could be low with him. (It's true what they say about misery-liking company.) 

Like the time in Season Two when Rafe had taken your virginity, yeah, you cried and kept whimpering to him, "it hurt." or "stop" but all of that was just ammunition to him; he loved to consume something so pure and innocent and ruin it for nobody else to have it--like what had happened to him.

Season Three Rafe would have a breeding kink. I mean, it goes hand in hand with his "man of the house" mentality. 

There is no doubt about it: Rafe is a thrill seeker--it's why he does coke or purposely picks fights. 

Fucking you without a condom was such a thrill to Rafe--it was like playing Russian roulette, but the chances of him getting shot were the chances of him getting you knocked up (which he didn't mind). 

But what had turned him on was after shooting his cum inside of you, it was so hot for Rafe to force his cum to stay inside you. 

He'll either plug your discarded panties into your cunt, or force you to finger yourself so you can push the cum deep inside of you. And if you were being too bratty, he'll just fuck the cum deep inside of you. 

None of Rafe's cum would go to waste. None of it. 

Even when you give him blowjobs, he'll scoop the cum that either landed on your face or tits and smear the cum around your pussy. 

God, Season Three Rafe could not wait for the day you swelled and leaked with milk, all because of him.

But all this goes to say, he wouldn't mind it, if you were to call him Daddy (in and out of the bedroom).

Honorable Mention:

I also feel like each Rafe would without a doubt be into choking.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi! I enjoy your stories very much. As a shy person myself wanting to push myself out of a shell I am curious if you've always been naturally good at meeting people, or do you get social anxiety too? Sorry if this is a super random/personal question. I appreciate you!

I used to get REALLY bad social anxiety but then I accidentally threw myself off the deep end on the first night of college when I heard people assembling furniture out in the hall and thought "If I do not get up right this second and go hang out with those people I'm going to lie here crying about how much I miss my family all night and they wouldn't want that."

So I went out in the hall and said "Hi! I'm [Gallus], and I thought I should meet people instead of being a miserable wreck in my room!"

And then we spent the rest of the night assembling dorm furniture, talking about weeb shit and generally having a good time! and every single time I've gone and introduced myself to someone since then, I've either made MORE friends and had a good time, or had, at worst, a perfectly neutral time. So that positive re-enforcement really helped.

Anyway, the three Guidlines to Meeting People:

Meet people at places they expect to meet people. People do not want to make friends when they are busy with something else- see how much we hate it when people come to the door when we were working or cleaning. But when they're at somewhere they expect to socialize like a Hobby Meeting, a convention, The Club? they're THRILLED to make friends and tbh probably glad you broke the ice. Go to places where people who share interests with you are meeting. They'll probably adopt you.

2. The Worst Thing that will happen is that you will lightly confuse someone. No for real. Nobody is going to scream at you and you're not going to terrorize someone by saying hi. It's fine.

3. Sample conversation script for those of us who have brains that make us act like we're in a movie:

*Be At Place to Meet People* *See someone who looks interesting to talk to, who is not actively doing a physical task or already having a conversation* You: Hello! I love your (Physical aspect of their appearance they chose: Hair color, lobster-themed dress/Dog/Orbital mechanics tattoo)!" Them: Oh, thanks! It (single sentence of explanation: I did it myself/It has pockets/He loves people/I got it for completing my thesis!) (this is a sign that they are open to social activity) You: That's so cool! I'm (you name), and I'm new here. You seem like cool people, can I hang out with you? Them, and I actually for real swear this will be the answer 90% of the time: Sure!

Congratulations! You have introduced yourself to someone. Continue to be a huge dweeb about the thing you have a mutual interest in and you will shortly have a new friend!

[mxltifxnd0m]

pull it to the side ⥁ s. winchester

summary: sam wants to try something out.

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem reader, [can be read as gn afab! reader]

word count: 1.3K

warnings: MINORS DNI, hint of dom/sub dynamics, oral fem! receiving, biting, slight choking, smug sam, porn w/out plot, no use of y/n, kinda edited

a/n: uhh hi guys this came out of nowhere but it was sparked because of guess by charlie xcx and billie so yeah here it is loll [also the title is a lyric from the song]

anyways enjoy! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me loll!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You and Sam all but stumbled into the room, lips attached to one other as you guys hastily pawed at each other, eager to get rid of the troublesome clothes on your bodies. Through the haze of lust, you could tell that you were being pushed back, and you had landed on the edge of the bed. Your lips had finally separated from Sam’s for the first time since you entered the room. 

Your naked chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath underneath Sam’s hungry gaze. You were already so fucked out, and Sam hadn’t done anything but overwhelm you with his kisses and insistent hands. You were stripped naked, barring your underwear, which had yet to be taken off and practically soaked through with your arousal, making the soft white color of the panties almost translucent. 

Sam’s large form loomed over you, making you lean back until your bare back hit the sheets of the bed. Sam’s lips were pulled into a salacious smirk as he hovered over you, his hips slotting in between your open legs. You let out a soft moan as you felt the rough denim of his jeans rut against your clothed core. 

You saw Sam’s lips twitch up further before planting soft, teasing kisses across your jaw and cheek before capturing your lips between his. His tongue breached your mouth instantly, swiping his tongue against yours and making your brain go haywire as his warm hands roamed over your thighs and hips until one of them made it to one of your breasts and started to knead it. A keening whine left your mouth as he pinched the hardened nub in between his fingers. 

A low chuckle rumbled in Sam’s chest. “God, I love your noises.” He mumbled against your lips before biting the bottom one gently. 

His lips left yours, and he skimmed his lips down your jaw with a feather-light touch as he kissed and nipped at your neck. Sam filled your senses as you felt his mouth trail lower and lower, kissing and biting anywhere he could. You knew you would be covered in small bruises and bite marks by the time Sam was done with you, but you couldn’t give a single shit about it at the moment as you felt his breath ghost against your lower belly as he sunk in between your open legs. 

“Fuck.” Sam breathed out when he saw the state of your underwear. “You’re soaking, aren’t you sweetheart?” You could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he left sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. 

One of your hands made its way into his hair, brushing the hair away from his forehead while the other gripped the sheets next to you tightly. When you met his eyes, the hazel in them was non-existent as they were overtaken by the lust that had taken over any rational he had. 

“S’all for you.” You managed to rasp out. 

“All for me?” The smirk that was on his face could have rivaled the devil’s as he sucked a mark into your plush inner thigh. Sam all but shoved his face into your crotch; you felt him take a deep inhale of your clothed cunt and let out a groan. “You smell so good.”

A soft whimper left your lips as his lips kissed your covered mound through your underwear. Sam started to lap at your cunt through the soaked material, making it even wetter. 

“Fuck.” He said with a grunt. “You’re so wet. I can taste you through your underwear.” Sam went from licking to kissing at your clit. 

You could feel how your underwear was stuck to your cunt like a second skin. Low moans and whines left your parted lips as Sam mouthed at your cunt, licking and kissing at it with your soaked panties acting as the only barrier between your dripping core and his mouth. 

One of Sam’s hands left your thigh to pull the material of your underwear taut against you, making a small yelp escape your mouth at the new sensation. 

Sam pulled away for a moment. “Bet if I could make you cum just like this.” He said to himself, tugging the underwear tighter against you.  

You tugged at the strands on top of his head, making Sam look up at your shaking head. “Take them off.” You pouted at him. 

You moved the hand that wasn’t in Sam’s hair off of the bed and to the waistband of your underwear. Sam acted quickly and used his free hand to grab your wrist and pin it back down on the bed. 

Sam moved from his spot between your legs to hover over you, your hand falling from his hair as he shook his head and looked at you with a stern glare.

He clicked his tongue at you. “You’re not in charge tonight.” 

You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face. Before you could even blink, both of your wrists were pinned above your head in one of Sam’s hands on the headboard while the other wrapped around the base of your neck loosely. 

“You wanna act like a brat tonight? Because I’ll treat you like one.” Sam’s nostrils flared as he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours, and you held his fiery gaze. 

You shook your head at him. “Wanna be your good girl.” 

“Then you’ll take what I give you.” The hand that was at the base of your neck moved up to wrap around your neck, but he didn’t put any pressure on it. A small whimper left your lips at the feeling of Sam’s big hand around your throat. 

Sam sent you a dark smirk before kissing you fast and hard. “Keep them there.” He squeezed your wrists before slinking down your body until he was face-to-face with your covered cunt again. He pulled your underwear hard against you and wasted no time trying to get you to cum. 

You wished you could feel his talented tongue against your bare cunt, but pleasure still surged through you as you felt him press his tongue hard against you and focused on your clothed clit. Sam managed to suck at it through the fabric, making you buck against his mouth. You could feel the familiar heat brew in your lower belly as Sam continued his ministrations. You were writhing on the bed, trying to keep your hands against the headboard as you tried to grind against Sam’s face. 

Sam threw an arm around your hips, keeping you in place as he ate you out like a man starved. Loud moans erupted from the back of your throat as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. 

Sam could tell you were getting close. “You gonna cum, pretty girl?” 

“Yes!” You gasped.” Pl-please let me cum.” You all but whined out, tears welling up in your eyes. You were so worked up, and all you wanted was for Sam to let you cum and finally fuck you. 

Sam chuckled against you, the vibrations making the warmth in your core even hotter. “Gonna make you cum.” He doubled down, wanting to make you cum as soon as possible. 

You were covered in a sheen of sweat as you felt the band in your core become tighter and tighter. Sam took your clit and sucked on it hard, biting it lightly, and the band snapped. Your mouth was open in a silent moan as pleasure racked through your body. Sam mouthed at your soaked-through underwear as you came down, shiny with his spit and your cum. 

Sam planted soft kisses up your body and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips when you finally calmed down. You let out a low moan as you tasted yourself against his slick-covered lips. You didn’t realize that your eyes had closed until they fluttered open to see Sam’s satisfied smile. 

“Told you I could make cum with them on.” 

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[kedreeva]

How does one pick up a peafowl, and is it at all similar to proper raptor handling technique as depicted here?

No, and I've posted about this before actually.

I suspect the person making the dinosaur posts hasn't actually held a large game bird before, but has maybe held chickens. The particular hold they're speaking of is something you might do to post for a photo op, like this:

but carrying like that is a pain in the butt, and even holding them for show like that is a hassle, because when you fold the feet up like this.... congrats, you just gave a bird with POWERFUL fucking legs ton of leverage to push against your hands. Why would you ever do that. WHy. (look at the feet difference between this show hold above and this scientist hold below, grasping at the ankle where she should be holding):

The feet go BACK because they don't have leverage to kick like that, you do not want to give a flushing game bird the ability to use those legs to try to flush out of your hands.

Additionally, chickens (even large ones) are usually held with the head tucked toward the elbow, so your grippy little fingers can hold the legs and the keel rests on your forearm to bear the weight. This also allows you to tuck the head if you need to.

But again with larger weights (really anything over about 15lbs), you'd definitely want both arms and possibly a spotter. And that scientist has the right idea about a hood.

If you try to hold a peacock like a bird of prey/forward carry like in that drawing, you get this:

Because they just fall forward out of your hold because they're shaped different. They're MADE to jump forward/up in ways birds of prey are not. Even chickens aren't really designed for it anymore.

Anyway, if a raptor (dinosaur) is anything like a peafowl (wild game bird), hood them, hold at the ankle stretched out back toward the tail, pin the wings/arms, rest the sternum/keel on your forearm, face the animal backward. Preferably since you're dealing with a large animal that can seriously injure you, always handle with a spotter.

[molosseraptor]

I usually avoid dog content on Instagram unless it’s things my friends post about, but now that I have a puppy the algorithm keeps feeding me puppy content and especially “dog trainer” puppy content.

I can’t handle all the misinformation and more importantly, the inappropriate expectations. It’s all for stupid reasons like comments and views and likes at the expense of the puppy. Baby puppies do not need to, nor should they, know 20 cues and tricks at 16 weeks. Baby puppies have no business being asked to make inappropriately difficult self control decisions. And baby puppies most definitely should not be expected to have the mental and physical capacity to perform adult dog behaviors at home or in public.

Baby puppies need the time and space to be babies and explore and learn about the world in a safe and low pressure way. Of course you’re going to be doing training at home and in the world, but most of that is teaching them your general rules and expectations and building solid foundations for life and sport skills. That’s already a lot to have on both of your plates.

While I and other dog people who get it look at these videos and roll our eyes, pet owners and people getting started in sports see these things and get super down on themselves for failing their puppies or not doing enough. They don’t know that this isn’t normal, appropriate, or something to aspire to. That pressure either makes people discouraged and they shut down or it makes them push their puppy way too hard and way too fast in an effort to keep up. It hurts everyone.

I didn’t want to put random people I don’t know on blast, so I made my own video of a mild version of what I’m describing.

What does this tell you about my puppy and us as a team?

While it looks like my puppy is doing complex “formal obedience” behaviors, he doesn’t actually know any of these skills or what he’s doing. All this video shows is that he knows how to follow a food lure and that he can eat cheese while walking. On my end, it shows that I know how to lure a dog into different positions. A baby puppy doesn’t have the mental or physical capacity to do a formal heel or chain multiple behaviors together and that’s normal.

If we kept this stuff up long term I might create an aversion to the signs/sport picture because the dog associates it with too much pressure. I’ll definitely create a serious lack of independence in my behaviors and difficulty fading out the food lure. And I’ll 100% create a lot of sloppy heeling on the dog’s part and poor handling on mine. Like most of these videos, “impressive” in the short term but digging a very deep hole that will get in the way of future long term success.

[howtofightwrite]

So. There is no safe place (in the body) to be shot. There are places that are slightly safer than others to be stabbed (i.e. being stabbed in the meat of your calf is less likely to be lethal than your torso). For the purposes of an arrow wound, which feels like a combination of shot+stab for a swords n sorcery world, is there a “less lethal” place to take an arrow? My character is traveling with companions and gets into a fun little goblin skirmish. I need her to catch an arrow somewhere that will be concerning, but not immediately fatal. Magic Bullshit™️ will keep the wound from healing properly for a few days, but I’ve accounted for field wound care (cleaning and bandaging and such) as she’s being taken on horseback to get proper treatment.

Not deeply.

So, the problem with all of these is tissue disruption. If the injury gets deep enough, the chances that it will hit something vital (especially on the torso) increase dramatically. So, getting stabbed and having the blade catch bone, instead of getting in deeper is “relatively” safe. Similarly, getting stabbed (or shot) in the hand or foot is unlikely to kill you (though, those injuries are likely to result in permanent damage impairing the use of injured appendage.)

Arrows are a little different, in a couple of ways. First, if you get shot, you do not want to pull that off (nor break it off and push it through.) That will increase the risk of bleeding out. Arrows make fairly large holes in people, but if the arrow sticks in the wound (which, it should) it will actually limit the amount of bleeding. Effectively the wound has a partial plug in it. Pulling out the arrow means that plug is no longer there, and they can happily bleed to death on the spot.

The second thing about arrows is that they actually pin muscle together. Think of it a bit like holding two pieces of meat together with a toothpick. If the toothpick isn't there, the pieces can slide across each other without issue, but that's not possible when there's a wooden shaft running through them. Your muscles are a complex web of meat, that slide over each other as you move. Pinning those together means that part of your body will actually lock up. For example, if you're shot in the shoulder, you won't be able to adjust the position of your arm. It's been toothpicked, and it's not going anywhere.

Arrowheads can get wedged in bone. If it's a broad head, or hunting tip, that will be obnoxious to get out.

At the risk of reading too much into your setting, goblins often means poisons, or other nastiness. Though, really, even just getting a tetanus infection (it used to be called “lock jaw”) from their blades is a pretty horrific potential fate. Even if the wounds themselves were relatively minor (cuts and scrapes, maybe a graze or two), a couple days might still result in some pretty horrific harm after the fact.

Also, remember, it's unlikely that bacteria will be understood by the medical science of your setting. So, first aid would still run a real risk of secondary infections.

Depending on their skill in first aid, anything outside of a severed artery or catastrophic organ damage should be (technically) survivable, though the wounds could easily result in permanent impairments, depending on exactly what was hit. A punctured lung might not kill her, but it could result in permanent respiratory issues, such as a cough, and chronic pain while breathing heavily from then on. It could also result in pneumonia and death, which is also, usually, pretty permanent.

Some of this depends more on where you want to land on a spectrum between dark fantasy and swords & sorcery. The genres are similar (and potentially overlapping), but can scatter out into dramatically different works. But, you do have some options on how you want to proceed.

-Starke

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[coco-loco-nut]

007 - part two

pairing: oscar x reader

summary: maybe a soulmate isn’t the worst thing to happen to you

masterlist part one part three requests open

——————

Oscar sent you a text that night. He was a little disappointed when it took you a couple days to reply, but that was quickly made up when you sent a time and location. The mystery around you is thrilling to him.

You wait in the corner of a cafe for Oscar, sipping a flat white. Your eyes immediately find him when he walks in, locked in on him. He quickly orders and makes his way to you. Oscar barely gets in a hello before you get down to business.

“I need you to know something before anything happens. I live a very dangerous life and I don’t plan on stepping away any time soon,” you leave certain things unsaid, like the very real chances of you dying. “It’s hard for the soulmates of those in my line of work. Suddenly the danger meter means more to them, and it can disrupt their lives,” you lean forward a little, subtly emphasizing how important it is.

“I’m a Formula One driver, I am familiar with the risk of dying. I know the risks associated with being your soulmate,” Oscar says and you bite back a remark about his job still being safer than yours. You need to try and be less standoffish.

“Right. Well, I can’t say that I know how to proceed with this. I’m a bit new to the whole thing,” you are a little embarrassed.

“I am too. We can handle it together,” Oscar smiles. He wants to reach across the table to hold your hand, but he doesn’t want to push it so he sips his coffee. “Tell me more about you, all I know is that you do a really dangerous job,” Oscar prompts you.

“Bold statement coming from someone who also has a really dangerous job. I really enjoy traveling, dislike paperwork. When I’m not working, I like reading or taking small trips. Um, I have a cat who is the light of my life,” you pause as Oscar lets out a laugh. “Tell me more about you, more than what your background check tells me,” Oscar sees the playful glimmer in your eye.

“Well, I’ve been getting into cricket and basketball. When I was a kid, I went through this phase where I thought I was a car,” Oscar admits.

“I would always sneak around as a kid, acting like a spy. I guess both of our childhood fantasies worked out,” you hide your bittersweet feelings. Oscar notices but doesn’t push it.

“So I guess you would be the Holly Shiftwell to my Lightning McQueen,” Oscar tries to bring up your mood but you give him confused look.

“But they were never romantic partners?” you say, a little confused with how happy Oscar looks. He’s just happy you have seen the movies and seem to like them enough.

“Semantics. What are you doing now that you aren’t chasing down criminals in the paddock?”

“You mean your soulmate? I’m being forced to take a break from missions right now. Apparently I’ve been hogging all the action and need to help in HQ for a few months,” your distaste for the orders is clear on your face.

“You can join me at a race. If you want to,”

“Really? I don’t want to be a distraction and I don’t know anything about Formula One,” you hesitate, not wanting to impose.

“I want you there. Who better to teach you the sport than me?” Oscar reassures you.

“Well, I guess I will have to take you up on it,” you take the little leap of faith. It’s not something you would normally do. But your soulmate is worth it… right?

You and Oscar agree to a race that is around a month later, giving you time to get to know each other and for him to teach you different aspects of the sport. The month still doesn’t seem to be enough as you arrive at your first race as his soulmate.

“Hey,” Oscar pulls you into a hug as you stand at his hotel room door. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking your bag as you walk in.

“How was media?” you ask, making yourself comfortable on the bed beside him. It’s clear that he hastily straightened up the room when he got back from free practice.

“Boring, I was counting down the minutes until you got here,” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you hum in response. You relax into his warmth, taking in the familiar scent that you’ve found comfort in.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of the office too,” you admit a few moments later. You left a little early to catch a flight here for the weekend.

“Still stuck on paperwork? I must admit, it’s nice not having your danger meter spike,” Oscar murmurs, a little sleepy.

“What’s on your mind?” Oscar observes your distant look when you don’t immediately reply, having learned how to read you more.

“What would you say if I left my job?” you say quietly, almost a whisper. Oscar sits up, needing to properly look at you.

“I’d be a little confused because you love it, but ultimately it’s your choice,” Oscar says, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Well, as soon as someone finds out who I am my cover is blown, putting both of us at risk. It’s a lonely life, and when it was only Boots and me that was okay, but I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, not expecting to feel emotional about it.

“I’ll support you either way, but I don’t want you to quit just for me. What would you do if you left?” he asks, feeling a little guilty.

“The longer I stay in action, the more dangerous my missions will be. Most of mine before didn’t interact with targets, but things will get more dangerous from here. It’s what I’ve worked for my whole life. As for what I would do if I left…” you pause for a second, letting Oscar absorb everything. “Well, your security is seriously lacking, and as your soulmate I think I should do something about that. I was also offered a higher up position that would take me out of action for good,”

“Having my own personal security guard who is also my soulmate? That could be dangerous,” somehow you don’t think Oscar means the kind of danger that would raise your meters.

“Oscar!” Your cheeks flush as you bite back a laugh, acting scandalized. “Alright, I’m going to shower before bed,” you slide out of his arms, looking back at him, knowing what he is about to suggest. “No, you can’t join,” you laugh as he pouts. You two aren’t there yet, but he is proud at how comfortable you are around him.

Oscar leaves early in the morning for free practice, promising to meet you at the gates when you arrive for qualifying. You happily take the extra time to sleep.

Qualifying is your test run. You get a feel for the team and race environment while keeping a low profile. Arriving for the race is a different thing.

“Ready?” Oscar asks as he parks at the circuit. He looks so cozy in his hoodie, and to be fair, you woke him up half an hour before having to leave.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you nervously smile. You are never nervous, but this is different. You are dressed fashionably, but nothing that makes you stand out too much. Your dark sunglasses help hide some of your features as you walk in on Oscars arm. You both look happy as you walk in, and the media notices.

“Oscar!” Logan calls him over, you recognize the American from your initial background check.

“Hey. This is my soulmate, Y/n. Y/n, this is my best friend, Logan,” Oscar introduces both of you.

“Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you,” you hug Logan, taking him by surprise.

“Aww, you talk about me?” Logan coos at Oscar.

“You came up in her background check on me,” Oscar says causing Logan to let go of your hug.

“Weird, but I like it. We are going to be great friends, Leiter and Bond,” Logan rolls with it. He remembers the first time Oscar mentioned you and that’s enough for him.

“You are a sexier James Bond, license to kill and all,” Oscar chimes in, trying to flirt and joke at the same time.

“Oh baby, no. That is nothing like what we do,” you accidentally slip up, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“I thought you were joking. I will keep this to myself though. That’s so cool. Can we watch those movies together?” Logan quickly says, not wanting you to worry. Your initial coolness that Oscar described to him over the past month makes more sense to him now.

“We should get going, I don’t want Zak and Andrea to get mad,” Oscar says, leading both of you away.

“This is the McLaren motorhome, you are welcome to sit in the drivers lounge or in my room while I am in the meeting. Afterwards, I can introduce you to Charles and his girlfriend,” Oscar offers as you look around.

“They should have better security here,” you tut, looking at all the different ways you could easily get in.

“Don’t worry, other teams aren’t coming in and stealing our secrets,” Oscar kisses the side of your head as he leads you upstairs to his drivers room.

“I could always do some recon,” you slyly smile, anything to help him win.

“That’s okay, I don’t need that to win. I have you motivating me,” he smiles, one which falters as a man with brown curly hair comes barreling towards you.

“OSCAR! Is this her? Hi, I’m Lando,” the man, Lando, says, extending his hand.

“Y/n,” you coolly reply, defenses going up as he pulls you into a hug once you take his hand. Oscar can tell you are uncomfortable, Lando springing himself on you.

“Let me help her get settled and I will be down,” Oscar says, cueing Lando to go to the meeting without him. “You are going to look Lando up, aren’t you?” he asks with an amused smile once you are in the safety of his room.

“Yeah, get ready for all his dirty laundry to be aired,” you lightly laugh.

“I look forward to it. I need more blackmail on him. I’ll see you soon, this meeting won’t take long,” Oscar promises, leaving you alone. You spend the half hour he is away looking up his teammate and some other drivers.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lando asks Oscar on their way back to the drivers rooms.

“No, she just wasn’t expecting you. Y/n is pretty guarded around new people, it stems from her job. She will warm up to you,” Oscar replies, not wanting his teammate and soulmate to hate each other.

“Does she work for the government or something?” Lando jokes, a little too accurate.

“Or something, don’t worry about it,” Oscar says, excited to see you again. You wait at the door for Oscar.

“For a professional driver, you have a lot of traffic violations,” you tell Lando, who notices the amused glimmer in your eye and relaxes. Whatever you did during the meeting seems to have worked.

“I have the need for speed,” Lando smiles, happy that you’ve warmed up a little. “Wait, how did you-“

“Don’t worry about it, we will see you later,” Oscar cuts him off, taking you to Ferrari.

“So, Charles is your fake adoptive dad? He has a fairly clean record, I couldn’t find much on him,” you comb over what you learned in your mind.

“Oh, Max is going to love you. You both have cats and you could prep him for whoever he is meeting with,” Oscar laughs, glad that you are taking the time to know his coworkers even if it isn’t the traditional route.

“Max Verstappen? I don’t usually do hits, but I will take out his father for free if he wants,” the way you say it so casually causes Oscar to almost choke.

“I will let him know,” he says, a little unsure how one replies to that.

You are quick to befriend Charles and Alexandra, the latter offers for you to join her while watching the race. You politely decline, but promise to join another race. Oscar takes you around to some other drivers, including Max, before introducing you to more people at McLaren.

You settle into the garage as the race starts, nervous as you watch Oscar on a small screen. You are aware of cameras that are pointed at you, but you ignore them. They don’t know you, all they can do is speculate.

The race is going smoothly until lap 37. Oscar is fighting for position when you fell the sickening twinge of the meter on your arm increasing. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you listen to the team radio, feeling a pit in your stomach.

Carlos and Oscar made contact which at minimum punctured Oscar’s tires. You hear his frustration, but you are just glad that’s all it was.

“Check the front wing too,” you hear him say after confirming he’s okay. He makes it back to the garage safely due to the incident being close to pit lane, but they retire his car due to other damage. Oscar seems too calm to you as he exits the car. Even you would show more emotion in that scenario.

Oscar’s eyes meet yours and before you know it, you are on your feet walking to him. He wraps you in a hug and you gently rub his back. You hold each other for a minute, taking a moment ground each other.

“You okay?” you practically yell over the noise and he just nods, guiding you out of the garage.

“That’s not the win I wanted to give you,” Oscar sighs as you walk back to his room after he gets weighed.

“I hope I’m not bad luck,”

“Never. You are good luck, that should’ve been worse than it was,” Oscar reassures you. A small part of him is happy to be spending time with you.

“I’m sorry your race ended like that, you were driving so well,” you frown, as Oscar squeezes your hand.

“Nothing I can do now, next race is a new opportunity. I have to go do media, do you want to watch the rest in McLaren?” Oscar asks, wanting to know where to find you later.

“I’ll go to Ferrari and watch with Alexandra,” you decide, needing to have friends around here. Oscar nods, leading you to your new friend. He kisses you goodbye before you walk in.

“Hey, are you okay? Those are scary, no matter how minor,” Alexandra greets you when she notices you.

“Yeah. Osc is fine, I’m just upset for him,” you shrug. You’ve seen your partners in danger on missions, but this is a whole different ballgame.

“Grab a seat, want a coffee?” she asks, making sure you are comfortable.

“No, but maybe you can teach me better than Oscar,” you watch her face light up as she immediately dives into sharing her knowledge, explaining everything to you as it happens.

“Come and meet some of the others. Oscar will be pulled into meetings,” Alexandra says, pulling you away from Ferrari.

“Shouldn’t you be with Charles? He must be looking for you,”

“He can wait,” Alexandra waves your concern off as you galavant around the paddock.

Your great experience with the WAGs further conflicted you if you wanted to stay or leave your job. And it all came to a head when you were brought in on an emergency mission once you returned from your weekend away.

This might be your most dangerous recon mission yet. Your part is simple on paper, get in, copy the digital files, get out. It wasn’t simple in execution.

You just skimmed the files, getting crucial information that will stop the operation. Now for the hard part - getting out and getting away.

You slip out of the room, when you hear footsteps getting closer and closer. Just like the stereotype, you slide around a corner and hold your breath, praying they don’t turn your way. They are so close you can feel their body heat beside you. You focus on remaining calm, but this is the most on edge you’ve ever been. You close your eyes as you feel your stomach drop.

This is it. You can see Oscar’s face as he opens his driver room door, two agents standing outside. The agents are solemn as they deliver the news - you were captured and killed on a mission. Every word, every moment is played perfectly in your mind. And your cat, Oscar will have to take care of Boots, a constant reminder of you.

Oscar sits in his post FP2 meeting when it happens, feeling the sickening feeling of your danger meter telling him you were in danger. After it being normal for the past few days, his stomach drops at how high it is.

“I need five,” Oscar runs out like he’s about to puke. You promised in your hastily written letter that you’d try to be safe, but all you really said that you had to leave, couldn’t take your phone, and it was an emergency. He naively thought that you wouldn’t be in the field, that you were just needed on the sidelines. He wasn’t completely wrong, you helped from the side for everything but your part in the operation.

“Oscar? Hey, are you okay?” Lando asks, walking into the room where Oscar disappeared to.

“I- I don’t know,” Oscar looks at his arm, silently pleading for the meter to go down. Lando sees it and just sits beside Oscar.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lando says after a few seconds of silence.

“She left a few days ago with only a note and her cell phone behind. Got an emergency call while I was out. Poor Boots, he must miss his mom. And I know she’s not abandoning me, but I think I finally know how my mom feels about my career,” Oscar says after a minute.

“I assume she’s in the military, or like, a detective to be in danger, and that’s pretty badass of her. I know she came off as cold initially to a lot of us, except when she’s with you and some of the girls, but I can tell that she really likes you. And she seems like she holds her own,” Lando starts listing everything he likes about you from the couple interactions you had during the race day. It helps distract Oscar, calming him little by little.

You step around the corner as soon as the voices fade and come face to face with a security guard. You quickly land a few punches, knocking him out. In the moment you are grateful for your disguise and the cameras that are currently disabled thanks to your team. As you quickly exit the building, you notice another guard tailing you. You quickly get into your getaway car, turning it on and pressing the throttle. It lurches under you, making a hasty exit as they chase you.

Glances in the rear view mirror tell you that you aren’t out of the woods yet. You send a small prayer that Oscar’s talent will be enough as you speed down the street. The car just isn’t fast enough, you are being hunted and the hunter keeps creeping closer and closer. Once again you hope your luck hasn’t run out as you will the car to go just a little faster.

Lando stays seated beside Oscar, trying not to stare at the meter on his teammates arm. He watches the tears run down Oscar’s face as the meter creeps higher, higher, then drops.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Always Enough

Hyunjin x Gn!Reader

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

The soft hum of conversation filled the room, a mixture of laughter and playful teasing bouncing off the walls of the dorm. You sat comfortably beside Hyunjin on the couch, your body relaxed as his arm rested lazily around your shoulders, pulling you close. His fingers traced delicate patterns on the hem of your shirt, a subconscious habit of his, and the warmth from his touch grounded you in the moment.

The boys were in high spirits, the rare night off giving them a chance to unwind. You enjoyed evenings like this- watching them be themselves, without the weight of cameras or expectations hanging over them. Hyunjin’s laughter vibrated softly against your side as he joked with Changbin and Seungmin, and you found yourself smiling, simply happy to be in his presence.

You shifted slightly, settling more into his side, and Hyunjin glanced down at you with a soft smile, his lips curving up in that way that always made your heart flutter. His gaze was warm, affectionate, as if you were the only person in the room, despite the chaos of the other seven boys around you.

"Hey, you good?" he murmured softly, his voice for your ears only.

You nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder. "I’m good," you replied, your voice just as quiet, content to be close to him like this. You took a breath, inhaling his fresh scent.

But as the night wore on, the playful energy shifted into something more personal. The guys’ conversation became more boisterous, jokes flying back and forth, and you couldn’t help but zone out a little, your mind wandering as you watched them.

That’s when you caught it.

"Man, Hyunjin could have anyone he wanted," Changbin said with a laugh, his voice carrying just enough that you couldn’t miss it. "The way idols are always talking about him? He’d have a line of people waiting if he was single."

Your stomach twisted, the lightness in your chest suddenly vanishing.

You knew Changbin was just joking so you tried to let it slide.

Then Felix snickered, adding in, "Yeah, seriously, Hyung is pretty. And all those pretty idols crushing on him all the time- and even American celebrities…Hyunjin wouldn’t even need to try."

You blinked, your heart sinking further with each word. It wasn’t meant to be cruel; you knew that. The boys were just teasing, like they always did. But something about hearing it made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Maybe because they were joking about it right in front of you.

Hyunjin chuckled softly beside you, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. But you weren’t Hyunjin. You were the one sitting next to him, the one who wasn’t an idol, wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t part of that world.

You weren’t like them.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, forcing a smile to stay on your lips even though your heart felt like it was sinking deeper with every passing second. But the doubts were already creeping in, their voices loud and insistent.

Could Hyunjin do better? The thought snaked its way into your mind, uninvited. Was he settling by being with you?

He could do better. Way better. It definitely feels like he was just settling with you. But...he treats you so well. Better than anyone else.

So, you knew it was silly- Hyunjin chose to be with you, he was the one who asked you out when he had first seen you working at the pet store where he picked up Kkami's food; he was the one who held you close like you were his whole world; even when you didn't initiate the contact. He was the one who was constantly making sure that you knew how he loved you more than anything.

But that voice in your head wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let you push those thoughts away. What if the boys were right? What if Hyunjin could be happier, better off with someone who fit his life more seamlessly? Someone who understood the pressures of being in the public eye, someone who didn’t stand out in the wrong ways?

A knot formed in your throat as you shifted slightly in your seat, your body suddenly feeling too heavy, too present. You tugged at the sleeve of your shirt absentmindedly, trying to focus on anything but the sinking feeling in your chest.

Hyunjin’s hand on your shoulder tightened gently, a small, grounding squeeze. He glanced down at you again, sensing the shift in your mood. "You sure you’re okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his eyes.

You managed a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah," you replied, your voice soft and a little too tight. "Just tired...zoning out a bit..."

He frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he pulled you closer, his arm around you feeling more like a lifeline now. You leaned into him, trying to let the warmth of his body ease the growing tension inside you. But the doubts wouldn’t let go.

The conversation around you continued, but you couldn’t focus. All you could think about was how out of place you felt. The boys were like family to you, and Hyunjin always made sure you felt included. But suddenly, the gap between their world and yours seemed so vast, so unbridgeable.

You weren’t an idol. You didn’t have perfect skin, flawless features, or the confidence that seemed to come so naturally to the people Hyunjin worked with. You weren’t constantly surrounded by stylists and makeup artists, weren’t trained to be effortlessly beautiful like the idols they were talking about.

What if you were holding him back?

The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down. But it lingered, persistent and sharp. What if Hyunjin was only with you because he felt comfortable? What if you were a burden he didn’t even realize he was carrying?

Your hand clenched around the fabric of your shirt, the texture rough under your fingertips as you fought to keep your emotions in check. The last thing you wanted was for Hyunjin to notice something was wrong- especially not now, not here, surrounded by his friends.

But Hyunjin knew you too well.

A blessing and a curse.

"You seem quiet tonight," he murmured, leaning down slightly so only you could hear him. His voice was soft, gentle, the way it always was when he could tell something was bothering you. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear accidentally, and you held back a shiver.

You forced another smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. "I’m fine," you whispered back, once more, not trusting yourself to say more.

He studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowing in concern, but yet again he didn’t press further. He simply held you closer, his hand moving in slow circles against your arm as if he could sense the storm brewing inside you.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. You tried to engage in conversation, to laugh at the jokes and pretend everything was fine. But your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of insecurities that wouldn’t let go.

By the time you left the dorm, Hyunjin walking you home, your thoughts were spiraling out of control. You walked in silence, Hyunjin’s hand holding yours, but the usual comfort you felt in his touch was overshadowed by the nagging voice in your head.

As you reached your apartment, Hyunjin paused at the door, turning to face you with that same concerned look in his eyes. "Are you sure everything’s okay?" he asked, his voice low and careful. "And please, tell the truth baby."

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill everything, to let him know how scared you were that you weren’t enough for him, that he could do so much better. But the words stuck in your throat.

“I’m good” you said again, forcing a smile as you unlocked the door.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie.

The door clicked shut softly behind you as you stepped into your apartment, Hyunjin following closely behind. The familiar space felt suffocating. You couldn’t shake the heavy feeling pressing down on your chest, the doubts lingering like an unwelcome guest.

Hyunjin was still watching you closely, his brows furrowed in that concerned way he always had when he knew something was off but didn’t want to push too hard. His presence, usually so comforting, made your heart ache now. You didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, but the weight of them was starting to crush you from the inside.

He kicked off his shoes, the soft thud of them hitting the floor breaking the silence. You stood there for a moment, your arms hanging limply at your sides, unsure of what to do next. Your boyfriend came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he often did when he wanted to feel close.

"You’ve been quiet all night," he murmured, his voice warm against your ear, but there was an underlying concern in his tone. His fingers traced light patterns along your stomach as he held you close, his body pressed gently against yours. "That's not like you, usually you blab with Jeongin or Lee Know. What’s going on?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears prickling at the back of your eyes. The words felt stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and insecurity. How could you explain that you felt like you weren’t enough for him? That you worried you’d never fit into his world, that you’d always be just a step behind?

Hyunjin sighed softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before he loosened his grip. "You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?" he whispered, his voice gentle. "If something’s bothering you, just tell me."

Your chest tightened at his words. He was always like this- so patient, so understanding. It only made you feel worse. You couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling like he had to reassure you all the time, like you were this fragile thing that constantly needed fixing.

But despite the urge to hide it all, your emotions had built up too much to keep locked away any longer. You could feel them bubbling to the surface, the doubts, the insecurities, the fear of losing him to someone better.

"I overheard something earlier," you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. "What Changbin and Felix said… about how you could have anyone… especially an idol. And...you're always around them and..."

Hyunjin’s body stiffened behind you, his hold on you becoming still. "What about it?" he asked, his voice cautious, like he wasn’t sure where this was going.

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears from falling, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. "It just… it made me think," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if they’re right? What if I’m holding you back? You could be with someone better, someone who fits your world. Someone who’s… prettier, more confident, more-"

You couldn’t finish the sentence, your voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over. You hated how weak you sounded, hated that you were even saying this to him. But it was the truth, the ugly truth that had been gnawing at you ever since you overheard those words.

Hyunjin turned you around slowly, his hands gentle as they found your arms. His expression was unreadable, his brows furrowed, but his eyes held a softness that made your heart ache even more. He brought a hand to your face, gently brushing away the tears that had escaped.

"Y/N-ah." he said softly, his voice filled with something you couldn’t quite place. He didn’t look angry, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, like it hurt him to hear you say those things.

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but he just pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, and for a moment, it grounded you. His hand moved up to the back of your head, stroking your hair softly.

"Why would you think that?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would you ever think you’re not enough?"

Your breath hitched as you buried your face into his chest, his words sinking deep into your heart. You didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t know how to put into words the fear that had been gnawing at you for so long. "Because it’s true," you managed to say, your voice muffled against his shirt. "You could be with someone who fits into your life better. Someone who wouldn’t stand out or…or make you feel like you have to protect them or reassure them all the time."

Hyunjin pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at him. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was only silence between you. His thumb traced your jawline, his gaze soft but intense.

"I don’t want someone else," he said firmly, his voice steady. "I don’t want someone who ‘fits’ into this crazy world of mine. I want you. You’re not holding me back. You’re not a burden. You’re…everything to me."

His words hit you like a wave, and you blinked, trying to process what he was saying. He looked at you like he couldn’t understand how you didn’t see it, how you didn’t realize how much you meant to him.

"You think I care about idols, about people who don’t even know me?" he asked, shaking his head slightly, almost as if the idea baffled him. "You’re the one who sees me for who I am. Not Hyunjin the idol, not Hyunjin from Stray Kids. Just me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You're giving all I've ever wanted."

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but the doubts still lingered. "But they’re right. I’m not-"

"They’re not right," he cut you off gently but firmly. "And it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. I love you. I love you because you’re you, not because you’re perfect or because you fit some image."

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and reassuring, but you still felt a tremor of doubt. "But what if I’m not enough?"

Hyunjin sighed softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You’re more than enough, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost breaking. "I don’t want anyone else. I never have. And I never will. I need you to believe that."

For a long moment, you just stood there, staring up at him as his words sank in. The warmth of his hand against your skin, the softness in his eyes- it all made you feel so loved, so wanted, even if the insecurities still lingered at the edges of your mind.

Finally, you nodded, though the doubts didn’t fully disappear. But you could feel them start to fade, just a little, as Hyunjin pulled you close again, holding you like he was afraid to let go.

"I’m sorry," you whispered into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. "I didn’t mean to doubt you…I just…"

"Don’t apologize," he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. "Just… trust me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Ever. I promise."

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the storm inside you. For now, that was enough.

It would always be enough.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Sometime later...

Hyunjin stormed into the kitchen, his face set in a determined scowl. Lee Know, who had been lazily scrolling on his phone at the counter, glanced up, one eyebrow raised.

"Hyunjin?" Lee Know asked, barely glancing away from his phone. "What’s up?"

"Where’s the air fryer?" Hyunjin demanded, his voice tight but oddly calm.

Lee Know blinked, still scrolling. "The…air fryer? Why do you need that?"

Hyunjin ignored the question, eyes darting around. "And tissues. Where are the tissues?"

This caught Lee Know’s full attention. He finally put his phone down, smirking as he crossed his arms. "Ah, taking after your hyung now, huh? Makes sense. I am the best."

Hyunjin gave him a flat look but didn't miss a beat. "Eight is no longer fate, Minho. The kids are losing a chicken and a dwaekki today."

Lee Know's smirk grew wider as he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Ah, I see. A Hyunjin-style tantrum then?" He chuckled, totally unbothered. "Well, at least you’ve learned from the best."

Before Hyunjin could respond, Jeongin’s voice rang out from the living room.

"Channie Hyungggg!" Jeongin called, peeking his head into the kitchen with wide, playful eyes. "You might want to come here…Hyunjin’s about to air-fry Felix Hyung and Changbin Hyung!"

Seconds later, Chan appeared, with wide eyes. "Hyunjin, what now?"

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to teach them a lesson. Can I at least air fry something of theirs? Changbin Hyungs protein powder or Felix's Louis Vuitton satchel?"

Chan frowned. "Hyunjin now why would you want to do that?"

"They hurt Y/N's feelings. Unintentionally but still."

At that Lee Know and Jeongin both perked up.

"Fry them both. Now." They said in straight-faced unison.

Chan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't get paid enough to raise these kids."

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