#it isn't. it would think about a move like that for like 20 minutes before it decided it wanted to move closer to her <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[changelingeyes]

forgot how fun it is to add little details to drawings that no one else is likely to notice but that i am incredibly autistic about

[unearthly-doting]

yandere farmer

a/n: smth smth i Really like people w southern accents smth smth so here's a farmer. im not 100% satisfied w this one but it's been in my drafts for so long so here it is.

warnings: mdni, not proofread, yandere content, gn reader, male yandere, idk how cars work so, overprotective behavior, obsessive behavior, reader has hair in this sorry if u dont, murder, brief mention of vomit, non-con kissing, mild depictions of gore, choking, i think that's it??

— maybe it's a bit cliché but life in the big city was exhausting, and all you wanted to do was get away from it all. it was a bit sudden, deciding you wanted to uproot your entire life and start somewhere new, but you knew that this is exactly what you needed.

— and it's not as if you weren't going into this blind. a friend of yours had a family vacation home in a small farm town that hadn't been used in years, and they were willing to let you stay there until you could find a place of your own.

— you had everything planned out. you had enough money on you for gas and food for the drive there, and you had already had some of your stuff shipped off to your new temporary home, so you didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind. you even kept a little extra money on you in case you needed to crash at a motel.

— the drive had started off fine. traffic wasn't too bad as you left the city, and there were no major setbacks until you were almost at your destination. when you were 20 miles out from the farmer town you'd be living in, your car just suddenly died on you. it still had gas in the tank, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car itself, it just… died.

— what's worse is the fact that your phone had no service. you suppose that's not too shocking, considering how far out in the country you are, but it's a bit shocking, isn't it? you're not that educated on farming life or this small town, but surely they had modern technology, right?

— it's cliché, honestly. it felt like the start of some cheap slasher. or maybe a southern christmas romance movie. you're not quite sure which would be worse. the slasher, realistically. whatever, you're getting off track.

— the point is, your car is dead, your phone is useless, and it's starting to get dark. you could probably make it to that motel you saw a few miles back, but you didn't really feel comfortable leaving your car out here alone. not to mention you're not even sure if you have enough money on you to cover one night at a motel.

— the universe, in all her mercy, takes pity on you before you can get too upset over your plight, because not even 20 minutes after your car stops, a truck drives by. it's beat up, but it slows to a stop next to your car. the window rolls down, revealing the driver to be a man just a little older than you.

— he asked if you needed help, and offered to tow your car and drive you to town. you didn't have much choice but to agree, and the drive to town was… not as awkward as you thought it would be, actually.

— the man introduced himself as rigby shaw, a farmer that lives on the outskirts of town. you actually drove by his farm maybe 15 miles back, and he had been heading into town to pick up some medication for one of his dogs when he saw you pacing outside your car. in turn, you told him how you were moving into the small town because life in the city had been overwhelming.

— rigby didn't think you'd survive long outside of the city. city folk rarely ever strive in small, out of touch towns, away from modern technology. the small handful that made their way here always went back to the city not even three months into being here, so he didn't expect to see you last long either. you were nicer than most city folk, though.

— but you were determined to make a living out here, so when rigby dropped you off, you got to work immediately. you unpacked your stuff that had been there waiting for you, and in the morning, you got to work trying to fix your car. turns out, your fan belt had somehow come loose just enough that your car could no longer function. why? who knows, maybe the universe was in a silly mood.

— anyways, you settled into the small town life with relative ease, and rigby was very surprised when he returned to town a few weeks later, you were still there. the only thing you were struggling with was finding a job. maybe because he was fascinated by your determination, but rigby ended up offering you a job on his farm. he did need help taking care of the crops and feeding the animals there, but he mostly just wanted to learn more about you.

— you were a fast learner, and his dogs took to you fairly quickly. the cattle and horses were a little less trusting, though that was expected. he's sure they'll take to you soon enough, given how you respect their boundaries and go at their pace unlike his previous farmhands. you had no problem taking on any challenge rigby had set up for you, and maybe that's when he started finding himself thinking about you.

— if he's out in town while you're on the farm, he's worrying that you might get injured without him around. you can take care of yourself, but he can't help but worry. same for when you're in town while he's on the farm. you’re still an outsider there, and he knows that some of the townsfolk may try scaring you off. or maybe they'll try hurting you. or maybe you'll be completely fine and he's just overreacting.

— he starts hovering around you more often when you're on his farm, jumping in to help you whenever he thinks you might be struggling with something. you think he's just worried you might fuck his crops up or something, so you never really pay much mind to his behavior. it only struck you as odd when he insisted on helping you feed the dogs of all things. was he scared you would poison them? you wouldn't, obviously, so you don't know why he'd think that.

— his behavior only seems to escalate when you meet a guy in town one day and start going on casual dates with him. he was… shocked, when you asked to take the day off because of some guy. in the months that you've been living in town, you had never shown any interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with… anyone, truly. you had always seemed so dedicated to working on the farm and making a living for yourself, rigby had never even considered you could want anything other than that.

— at first, he felt disappointed. why would you prioritize dates with some guy when you could be working on the farm with him instead? it took him a bit to realize that disappointment he was feeling was jealousy. he hated when you'd step away from him to accept calls from your new boyfriend. he hated how you stopped eating lunch with him in favor of eating it with your boyfriend.

— your boyfriend wasn't even that great of a guy. rigby did some research on him–it's not stalking, he's just making sure it's safe for you to date this guy!–and he was not pleased with what he found. you could do so much better! you didn't understand why rigby was so interested in your boyfriend, always asking questions about how he treats you, if he's really what you're looking for in a relationship, if you actually loved him…

— you couldn't help but notice how touchy rigby has become as well, his hands always lingering on you far too long when he helps you with your work. you swear that you've heard him smell your hair a few times when he's close as well. he's been acting weird ever since you officially started dating your boyfriend. he's even going as far as to pile more work on top of you, leaving little free time for you to spend with your lover.

— it's gotten unbearable to the point where you decided you ultimately needed to find a new place to work. you liked rigby, he was a great guy with a kind heart, but his behavior was bordering on obsession and you didn't want to enable this behavior by ignoring it. your boyfriend agreed, and with his help, you were able to find a job at the local market in town.

— rigby was not pleased when he heard you on the phone with your lover, talking about how you'd tell him you were quitting after you finished work.

You're not really sure what happened. One moment, you were on the phone with your boyfriend and then the next, you were being hit in the head and everything had gone dark. The sun had only just started setting when you had been knocked out, but it was completely dark outside when you had woken up.

Your head was pounding as you opened your eyes, looking around in an attempt to figure out what the hell had happened to you. You were still on the farm, that much you knew. The first thing that worried you was the fact that your hands were bound to a wooden post, leaving you unable to move without injuring yourself. Your phone was broken on the ground, so it was completely useless.

Did a trespasser knock you out? It's not the first person people have trespassed on the farm, trying to steal the horses or ‘save’ the animals Rigby had. You had assumed that to be the case, because… what else could have happened for you to be tied up like this?

“Rigby?!” You shout his name, wincing at the throbbing in your head as you did so. Was he okay? Was he hurt? What if something happened to him? What if–

Your panicked thoughts get put on pause when a light blinded you, and you shied away from it as best as you could as you tried to figure out its source. It seemed to be a flashlight, and you only realized who was holding it when they got closer.

For a moment, you relaxed at the sight of Rigby, relieved to see he was okay as he approached, though there was something off about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem injured, yet there was blood on his hands. Or maybe it was the… borderline crazed look in his eyes.

Something wasn't right.

“Rigby…?” You hesitantly called his name, your relief bleeding away into a reluctant unease, “Are you okay? What happened? Why am I tied up?”

His silence did little to help you as he set his flashlight down on the ground and started undoing your binds. Your wrists felt raw as you gently rubbed them once they were free, standing up while Rigby retrieved his flashlight.

“Rigby, what the hell is going on?” You ask, growing frustrated at being left in the dark. You had been knocked out and tied up, so you think you deserve some sort of explanation as to what had happened.

“I have a gift for you.” Rigby says, completely dodging your question as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him. His grip was tight, almost bruising as he dragged you along, ignoring you when you asked him to loosen his grip on you. He refused to answer any of your questions, and you were starting to get worried.

You've never been scared of Rigby. Sure, his behavior lately had been concerning, but you had no reason to be scared. But right now, you couldn't help but feel a bit afraid as he led you in the dark. Your concern only grew when you realized he was taking you to the barn the pigs were kept in.

“Will you just tell me what's going on?” Your words fall upon deaf ears as he passes the flashlight to you, motioning for you to take the lead as he opens the barn doors. You hesitate before shining the flashlight in the barn, slowly stepping forward.

Most of the pigs were sleeping in their own separate stalls, a few were watching you and Rigby with indifference as you both stepped deeper into the barn. But two things stood out to you. One, a handful of pigs were nowhere to be seen. Two, there was this weird… squelching sound coming from the back of the barn.

“It's just back there.” Rigby says, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing you to jump. You hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. You scurry forward just to get some distance. Truthfully, you didn't want to see this ‘gift’ Rigby was talking about, but you knew that you couldn't turn back.

Deep down, you knew something horrible was about to happen. The squelching sound grew louder, and you could hear the sound of chewing along with it. When you looked back at Rigby for some sort of reassurance, he just had this strange smile on his face. It sent a chill down your spine.

And when you hesitantly looked in the last stall at the very back of the barn to see the source of the noise, your ‘gift’, you dropped the flashlight in horror and let out a scream as you stumbled back right into Rigby's arms.

On the ground was your boyfriend's corpse, his face nearly maimed beyond recognition as several pigs chewed at his body. You're lucky you're able to swallow the vomit in your throat as you try to get out of Rigby's hold, looking away from the horrific scene in front of you as you cried.

“Let go of me!” You claw at his arms, but he just holds you tightly against his chest, gently shushing you as he forces you to watch the pigs eat.

“Do you like it?” He asks, completely ignoring your horror, “It wasn't hard getting him to come here. I just told him you had an accident, and suddenly, he was on his way. Isn't that sweet? It's a shame he wasn't stronger… he never would've been able to protect you if someone tried hurting you. But I can, see? I can give you what you deserve.”

You weren't even listening to his deluded words, trying to squirm out of his hold, “You're a fucking monster.” You spit out, a sharp gasp being torn out of your mouth when he shoves you against the wall of the barn, his hand around your throat as he lightly squeezes. A subtle threat, one that had you shutting up.

“I expect some fucking gratitude, you ungrateful brat.” Rigby’s voice is cold, his anger had never been something you'd ever been on the receiving end of, “I did this for you. For us. You should be thanking me.” His hand on your throat tightens, squeezing the air out of your lungs, his gaze hard as he stares at you expectantly.

Desperate for air, you're barely able to wheeze out a small, “Thank you.”

As black spots start to fill your vision, Rigby removes his hand from your neck, and you're able to breathe again. His anger was gone, replaced with delighted satisfaction.

“Of course, darlin’.” He sweetly says, a bloodied hand coming up to gently wipe the tears off your face, “I'd do anything for you. I can provide for you, so just be good for me in return, okay?”

And as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a heated desperation, you find yourself missing the city for the first time since you left it.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

waiting to spill

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving

warnings: 18+ MDNI, established relationship, breeding kink, smut, desperate!mike, unprotected piv, creampie, riding, fingering, blue balls, mentions of pregnancy, cum play

word count: 3.9k

(based on this request)

Mike's praying the call goes through this time because if it doesn't, he might just lose his mind. You were supposed to land 20 minutes ago, but it's already half past 4 and your phone's still off.

Will it show how many missed calls you have? God, he hopes not. He's been redialing for the better part of an hour, hoping you landed early, but luck clearly isn't on his side. Every time it goes to voicemail, your voice taunts him. Just another reminder that you're not here—unreachable and untouchable.

Shitty fucking airline. He knew you should've taken an earlier flight, but he didn't want to be that guy. The one who tells you what to do and when, and makes decisions for his own benefit. He's a better guy than that, a better boyfriend than that, it's just—fuck, what is taking so long? 

One more time. He'll try you one more time, and if it doesn't connect, he'll go sit on the couch and distract himself until you call him. He's already waited this long. He can suck it up a little longer. Probably.

He hits redial for the umpteenth time, his forehead thunking against the wall next to the landline, and then something miraculous happens. It rings.

Once, twice, and then you pick up. He doesn't wait for you to answer. Any patience he had left flew out the window hours ago and he doesn't care if you know it.

"Babe?"

You laugh softly on the other end, and it tugs at his heart...and his dick. Seatbelts click open in the background, and sounds of movement and chatter filter through the speaker.

"Hey, you. I actually just landed. I'll call you back once I get through customs, okay?" you reply, bright as ever. 

It sets him off worse than he expected. You're so much more potent in real-time than on voicemail, and it's fucking with his sense of urgency. He doesn't want to rush you, but he needs you. So badly.

"W-wait. Can you come over? After you're done with the airport stuff, I mean," he manages to get out, interjecting cautiously before you can hang up.

"I was gonna stop home to drop off my bags and take a quick shower, but I can come over after that," you reply distractedly, likely dealing with overhead bins and other passengers trying to deplane. 

He shakes his head, gripping the phone a little too tightly as he bites back a frustrated whine. That'll take too long. The airport's about an hour's ride from your apartment, and by the time you're done showering—no. No, just come to him. It's a shorter ride to his house, anyway.

"Just—you can do all of that here. Stay over and I'll drive you back to your place in the morning. Please?" he asks, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. 

It pulls your attention back to him almost immediately, and he hates how good that feels.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you counter, misreading his plea as an emergency. 

Your phone keeps shifting like it's tucked against your shoulder, and now it sounds like you're moving faster, hurrying like he wants you to, but for the wrong reasons. 

"Everything's fine, I just need to see you," he says, willing you to understand. "Babe, I really need to see you."

He's too ashamed to spell it out. What would he even say? If he doesn't cum inside you soon, he thinks he might die? He's horny, not pathetic.

"Mike, that doesn't sound fine...," you sigh on the other end, your quickening footsteps audible through the receiver. 

"Please."

You pause for a second, and his heart leaps into his throat. Don't say no. Please, don't say no.

"Gimme an hour, okay? I'll catch a cab to your place as soon as I can," you finally agree.

He breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, but it's louder than he realizes and you clock it on the spot.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, all good. I'm just glad you're back. Feels like it's been forever," he mumbles, somehow sated and yet anticipating your arrival more than ever. 

He shifts anxiously from one foot to the other, wincing at the unexpected friction against the growing problem between his legs. The atmosphere around you changes and your responding laugh blends into the bustle of casual conversations and overhead announcements in your terminal. 

"Can't survive one week without me, huh? I guess I'm bringing you and Abby along next time I visit my parents," you joke, but it's getting harder to make out what you're saying. "Look, I'm almost at customs. I'll see you soon, I promise."

The call ends, and he's left with the loneliness of a dial tone and an empty house. He hangs up and plops down on the couch, clutching the TV remote like a lifeline while he desperately tries to ignore the painful tent in his boxers.

An hour. He can handle one more hour.

He can't handle one more hour. It's been 45 minutes and he feels like he's about to burst. The worst part? It's his own damn fault. 

He's the asshole who made the conscious decision not to jerk off the entire time you were gone, but he can't bring himself to regret it. He had his reasons. In about 15 minutes, it'll all be worth it.

Maybe less. 

There's a knock at the door, and he's up and off the couch so fast, he's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. He wrenches it open to find you on the other side, a little stunned by the abrupt greeting, but worth every second of blue balls he put himself through.

"Hey," he breathes out, winded by his mad dash and the relief of you finally being here. 

"Hey, yourself," you smile wryly. Your eyes drop to where he's not even remotely trying to hide his raging boner. "Ah-ha, so that's—"

But that's all you manage to say before he drags you into the house and slams your back against the door, shutting out your luggage and the cab driver still idling in the driveway. His lips crash into yours and you taste so good, it's dizzying. 

Remnants of Sprite and spearmint gum linger on your tongue as it meets his, and he groans, wondering how he went an entire week without this. All that time, deprived of your addictive touch and perfect tits while he tortured himself, waiting for you to come back to him.

He can't decide where to put his hands first, roaming and squeezing from your waist, up your shirt—which he's just realizing is his—to splay across your ribcage. Pressing you harder into the door, he separates from your lips to mouth at the underside of your jaw, mumbling his appreciation between each harsh bruise he sucks into your skin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he pants, shamelessly grinding into your hip for relief. He wants you to feel how hard you're making him, so you'll understand all those missed calls.

"Yeah? I can tell," you laugh breathily, running your hands up his chest, pushing his shirt up as you go. 

Your thumbs brush against his bare skin, sending a heady jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly none of this is moving fast enough. His hands drop to your ass, roughly tugging your hips into his, and you gasp in unison at the friction. Together, you fall into a frantic rhythm, rutting into each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

"Shit, Mike...," you moan his name, and he feels like he's dreaming. He has to be because nothing else in his waking world has ever felt this good.

Contrary to the rest of his body, he kisses you again slowly, savoring every noise he's coaxing from you and devouring them like a man starved. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, and he swears he's never letting you leave this house again. 

If by some miracle he does, he's going to make sure you're pumped so full of him, you'll be leaking him the entire time you're gone, unable to think about anything else. And when you come back, he'll do it all over again.

Damnit, he needs you in his bed, now.

He backs away from the door with you still in his arms, leading you further into the house down a path you know by heart. Briefly, he separates from your lips to lift your shirt up and over your head, then discards his own before tugging down the cups of your bra to latch onto a nipple.

You hiss at the contact, trembling as he teases it with his teeth, and immediately reach behind you to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. It drops soundlessly to the floor along with your jeans, underwear, and finally his boxers. Nipping sharply at the sensitive skin one last time, he pulls away to admire you, trailing his fingers down your arms until your hands are in his.

You're fucking beautiful. Your lips are kiss-swollen and glossy, begging to be kissed again, and your thighs are...wet, fucking hell. Fuck, he missed you. His mouth starts to water at the thought of licking into you, fucking you with his tongue while your thighs quake on either side of his head, but the painful throbbing between his legs is starting to overwhelm him.

He's positive, now, that if he's not inside you soon, he'll actually die. He's not just horny, anymore. It's so far beyond that.

Four more agonizing steps backward and he's finally passing the threshold into his room, so close to being on his back with you bouncing on top of him—except he doesn't make it that far. 

The door shuts behind you, and then you're on your knees, wrapping those perfect fingers around his dick and guiding him between your lips. He panics. There's no way he's going to last if you try to blow him right now.

Tenderly, you lick a stray bead of precum off the tip, and his balls immediately draw up so tight, he has to slide your hand down to the base and squeeze to keep from cumming on the spot. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he inhales sharply through his nose.

"Babe, I can't...," he grits out, struggling to find the words to explain himself. "I'll cum too fast, you can't."

You grin, leaning forward to press your lips against his white-knuckled fist.

"That's sort of the whole point, isn't it?" you tease, trailing back to his cock, seconds away from giving him the most intense orgasm of his life.

"I need to fuck you," he blurts out. It's short and to the point, but there's no use in pretending he doesn't. At this point, he'll be lucky if he doesn't explode the second he's inside you. "I need to fuck you so bad right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."

You pause to look up at him, your eyes roving over his face, lingering on his angrily ticking jaw. You get it, now.

"Hey, it's okay—you're okay," you murmur, leaning forward to kiss away another drop of precum. He chokes back a groan and reflexively jerks away, and you take the hint to release your grip. "Okay, fuck me. Show me how much you missed me."

But you don't have any idea what you're asking for, do you? He missed you so much. There's so much catching up to do, and he has so little patience left.

He doesn't waste any more time. With every ounce of self-control he's got left, he drags you to your feet and towards the bed, trying his best not to manhandle you up the mattress and onto his lap. He fails epically. The second he's flat on his back with you grinding down on him, his patience becomes a thing of the past.

"You ready for me? Because I'm not gonna be able to stop, and I need you to feel good," he's starting to babble, but he has a feeling nothing he says from now on will make any sense, and he needs you to want it as much as he does.

His hands slide up your thighs to your waist, and when he tugs you closer to notch at your entrance, he can feel you clenching wetly around him.

"Shit—," he breathes out, his biceps tensing as he lifts you and lines himself up. He pushes in just enough for you to stretch around the tip, and you steady yourself on his chest, your palms searingly hot on his skin as you squeeze him a little harder.

"Let me make you feel good," he says again, even though you're already letting him, already yielding to his steady push and pull. Every inch he gives you feels like taking a shot of tequila, and it's making his head spin. If he could hear himself anymore, he'd realize he sounds wasted.

"Let me fill you up, please," he begs, rolling his hips up to lengthen his thrusts. They’re so much easier now that you’re dribbling down him—so much wetter—but you're so damn tight, he has to force himself to look away from where you're joined and gripping the hell out of him. "You know, I-I waited for you—waited to cum, I didn't cum at all."

"Mike...fuck. That's good. That's so good, baby," you tell him shakily. "Give it to me. Nice and deep, you deserve it."

He keens at the praise—he couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried—and your nails bite into his skin in response, nose scrunching adorably as you gush around him. He knew you'd like that. He knew you'd want it. 

Look at his girl, so pretty on top of him, just waiting for him to bust inside you. Fleetingly, he wonders if you're still on birth control. Possessively, he doesn't care. Rationally, he knows he can't afford to knock you up, but shit—right now, he really fucking wants to. He imagines you in the same position you're in, horny and round with his baby, and suddenly he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He doesn't stop to think about whether or not he should. He doesn't stop at all, just like he warned you, not even when he's buried to the hilt and you're both struggling to adjust. 

He just buries himself in you again and again and again until the sound of your skin colliding with his becomes a wet thock-thock-thock that bounces off the walls of his bedroom. The springs beneath him squeak dangerously as he pushes his bedframe to its absolute limits, but he can’t hear any of that, either.

His senses are in overdrive, and all he can focus on is how you feel around him. And he’s not nearly as deep as he needs to be. Rougher than he means to, he grabs your ass with both hands and starts to force you up and down his cock, gripping hard enough to bruise. He’ll hate how much he likes the idea of that later. 

"S-so fucking pretty...gonna make me cum so hard. So much. Need you to take all of it," he pants with the exertion of lifting and dropping your full weight onto himself.

He can feel himself slamming into your cervix and desperately tries to think about anything else but emptying right into it, but the sight of you taking him like you were made for it makes it ten times worse.

Just looking at you makes him want to cum—your tits bouncing as you ride him, your pussy creaming down his cock and balls, and seeping into his sheets. Those pouty lips of yours moaning around pleas of harder and right there and don't stop, I'm cumming.

"Baby...babe—," your shattered voice cuts through the fog, and then he feels it. "M'cumming. I'm...Mike, keep going there, there. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Fucking hell, you're really cumming. Tight and wet, and clamping down on him like a vice. Somehow, he always forgets it's like this with you. That you cum this hard for him, that he's able to make you cum this hard for him. For a second, he feels overwhelmingly grateful. Then, he's planting his feet on the bed and fucking you so hard, you stop moaning and start screaming.

It's there. It's right there, so close he can feel it building everywhere. Sweat trickles down his temples, matting his curls to his forehead, and you brush them away, one hand braced on the mattress next to his head and the other buried in his hair as you ride out your high.  

His balls draw up so tight, it's painful, and he thinks he might start yelling too, but he's too focused on the chase. He's too busy watching, dumbfounded by the perfect body coming apart on top of him. 

The girl he waited for. 

He tries to tell you. He tries to open his mouth and tell you that you’re everything he thought he’d never have, and that he wants to keep you forever. That he wants to be part of you, that being inside you is one of the rare places he’s ever felt wanted. But that’s not what comes out. 

He’s too far gone now, and all he can manage is an incomprehensible stream of moans and sighs as he forces you flush against his pelvis, grinding into you as deep as he can reach. His eyes struggle not to close, nearly crossing as that familiar heat permeates his limbs and pools at the base of his cock. But it’s so much more intense than he can ever remember it being.

He lifts his gaze to your lips to find them moving, repeatedly forming a single word he can barely make out. But by the time he figures it out, he’s already giving you what you asked for. 

Please. You’re saying please. He repeats it back, begging you to take it, thanking you for letting him have this.

His orgasm rocks him. As it peaks, he feels numb like he’s suspended in time, and then it slams into him so hard, he folds in on himself. He buries his face in your tits, his breath hitching sharply in time with the visible throbbing of his cock, and he’s immediately flooded with relief. But it won’t fucking stop. It lasts so much longer than either of you expect it to, pulse after endless pulse, and he holds you in place through it all.

When it finally subsides and sensitivity sets in, your nails scratching lightly across his back are what bring him back to the present. He lifts his head from where it's still pillowed on your tits, and you lean down to kiss his forehead.

Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe he’s just been dreaming this entire time, but he swears you’re glowing. The final rays of late summer sun illuminate your dewy skin and soft curves, and as you move lower to kiss his lips, he unconsciously rests a hand over your stomach. It feels right—but only briefly. His head starts to clear the longer he licks into your mouth, and when you part, reality finally hits.

"Shit, I think I just got you pregnant," he breathes out, sliding his hand off your stomach to your waist before collapsing onto the mattress. "Shit."

He looks up at you in concern, his mind racing a mile a minute. What did he just do? He can’t—you can't get pregnant. Not with Abby, and your jobs, and his shitty finances. It just isn't an option. 

And yet you’re still perched on top of him, snug around his softening dick, and he can’t bring himself to pull out. You don’t even seem remotely worried.

You're actually smiling. No, you're laughing, and he's still panicking and confused as hell. It gets infinitely worse when you accidentally push him out and his gut reaction is to plug you back up with his fingers, keeping his release from leaking out. This is so fucked up. He’s so fucked up.

"I mean—were you trying to?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda seems like it."

Your eyes drop between your legs to where his hand is cupping your heat, irrefutable proof that you’re not wrong. So, why doesn’t that bother you? 

"Babe, breathe," you smile softly, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm like, 98.8 percent positive you can't knock me up. Give or take, but we can check the box if it'll make you feel better."

It actually might, but the last thing he's going to do is admit it. He can't believe he didn't double-check something like that—but then again, he feels like he's been in a fugue state for hours, if not the entire week you were gone.

"You're still on birth control?" he asks cautiously, almost afraid to get his hopes up. He takes a deep breath like you told him to and it helps ease some of his lingering panic. Not all of it, but at least he's starting to think rationally and not with his dick.

"Mike. There isn't a single condom in this entire house. Yes, I'm on birth control," you laugh again, and even just the sound of it is soothing. It helps, too.

"And it definitely works? Because that was...a lot," he mumbles. He already knows he sounds like a total idiot, but he has to be sure. There's still a week's worth of his release plugged up inside you, and as much as it turns him on, he needs to know if he has to run out to the pharmacy or if he's free to do it again. And again.

"Have you ever fucked me with a condom on?" you counter. He scoffs at the question, and you clench around his fingers in retaliation.

"Of course, I have. Maybe not in a while, but early on, for sure," he replies confidently, even though he's not confident in his answer at all. Sure, he can't give you a specific example, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

"You literally came inside me the day we met," you deadpan. 

His cock stirs at the memory, hardening distractingly against your inner thigh. That, he definitely remembers. He's pretty sure that's the night he fell in love with you, but he's hard-pressed to admit that, either.

"There's no way."

"And every time since then," you continue, looking way too amused at his misfortune. Can't get anything past you, can he?

Okay, so maybe it wasn't just your trip that triggered what happened tonight. Maybe it's always been a thing. His thing. You just look so goddamn good—filled with it, covered in it. Shit, he really shouldn't be hard already.

"Babe, come on. I do...it other places, too,” he reasons, sliding his hand up to tweak a nipple. But it becomes a moot point the second your breath hitches. So much for rational thinking. “I just—"

"You just really like cumming inside me," you finish for him, taking his cock in your hand and stroking him until he's as desperate as he was earlier.

He pulls his fingers free from your pussy and tries not to lament the immediate rush of cum that leaks out. It's okay. He's got plenty more to give you.

"Yeah, I really do."

thanks for reading!

(and so much love to @joelsgreys, @tinycozycomfort & @psychedelic-ink for your help & support, and for listening to me go on and on about this man <3)

[terastalungrad]

I'm reading Life in Code by Ellen Ullman, writings on tech and philosophy.

I love the chapter "Is Sadie the Cat a Trick?", where Ullman talks of the 19 years she had with her cat Sadie, and - while reflecting on Artificially Intelligence - wonders whether the relationship between them was an illusion.

Was Sadie merely behaving according to her "programming"? Was Ullman merely imagining sentience?

Ullman considers various aspects of her relationship with Sadie. First, companionship. Second, familiarity:

[H]er coming to meet me at the door (even when her bowl was full, so it was not in the hope of getting dinner). There was mutual recognition of ritual: I knew the time of day when she moved to her favourite chair to take the sun, so I anticipated it and raised the shade. She knew I wrote in the morning, and, before I got to the desk, she was lying on her pillow by the heater, which had not yet been turned on. If it were just warmth she'd wanted, she could have stayed in bed with Elliot, who was living with me by then. Instead, she decided she would wait for me by a cold heater.

I love this paragraph very much. This reflection on the familiar behaviour of a pet, ostensibly to work out if there's a difference between a pet and sufficiently advanced AI. But also, it seems to me that this is an investigation into love itself.

Did Ullman's cat love her? Do any of our pets love us?

Instinctively, we think "yes". Ullman has applied a programmer's mind - and a philosopher's mind - to the question:

Companionship, familiarity, expectation, mutual recognition, bodily comfort: if this is not a definition of love between aging creatures, I don't know what is.

I'm away from home for a few days, with gigs in London and Birmingham. I always miss my wife when I'm away, and this essay hasn't helped at all thank you.

It makes me think of our own rituals. Sometimes - not often - I'm awake before Elanor. I know what time her alarm will go off, so I join her in bed a minute before, so she wakes up gently to a cuddle before the cold brutality of the alarm. When I'm working in the study, Elanor will sometimes open the door a crack, and wait to be invited in.

This is the difference between love and programming. Last time I was away, Elanor defrosted the freezer - an accomplishment of immense bravery and determination. She didn't tell me this, but when I came home she challenged me to work out what chore she'd done while I was away - knowing that, letting me discover this action by opening the freezer would be the best possible way for me to find out she'd done this.

How did Elanor know this? We've been together 20 years this month. Perhaps she reflected on the fact that I'm delighted by surprise, and by playfulness. Maybe she thought about the way I like stories - and that investigating the house, searching for new jobs completed, would give me the thrill of an adventure. It's possible she considered my love of novelty and shared experiences - and came up with this way of presenting her accomplishment according to these principles; these techniques for controlling the reveal.

All of this *could* be true. That Elanor consciously processed, analysed the data. Her understanding of me. Maybe, perhaps, possibly.

But I think she just knew.

Familiarity. Expectation. Recognition. Love between aging creatures!

People are so excited that generative AI can produce ugly pictures and bland copy. But I don't think it would curl up in front of a cold heater in an empty study.

Because any relationship with a program is an illusion. It isn't love. Because love isn't defrosting the freezer. Love is defrosting the freezer while your partner's away, anticipating their response, looking forward to their joy.

[coff33andb00ks]

Hopeless - LN

Lando Norris x fem!reader (mentions of Charles Leclerc x fem!reader) Summary: and you know damn well that for you, I would ruin myself a million little times Word count: 2012 Themes: angst, forbidden love(?) Song: can i be him by james arthur Warnings: cheating, charles is a bad boyfriend, cursing, Oscar knows everything, barely proofread, not a happy ending Notes: I watched one too many she chose me/did she? tiktoks and this was born. Also please don't take this as me condoning cheating (unless you can cheat with Lando).

Lando isn't one hundred percent sure how it began, not really. He remembers the first move, the bit of shock when you didn't reject him, but he doesn't remember how – or when or why – he fell for you. He knows he didn't just wake up one day saying to himself right today's the day I fall in love.

It all started so innocently. Right? He found out you liked gaming and casually invited you to his place to try out his setup when you mentioned you were looking to upgrade. He'd expected Charles to come with you but had shrugged it off, too excited to share his love for gaming. You stayed most of the afternoon, laughing and he'd had the tiniest of crushes by the time you left. And when you upgraded you asked him to come over to help you set it up.

Crush: intensified.

He's pretty sure he liked you so much because you didn't talk about racing with him. He could be "normal" around you, just like any other guy in his 20s who loved video games and driving fancy cars and blasting music. Soon he was dropping by or inviting you over on off days. He didn't think anything of it. You were a friend, and Charles obviously didn't mind, so why deny himself the pleasure of your company?

Crush: die-hard. To the point Max and Oscar teased him about it.

He likes you most in his apartment. On race weekends at a track you were calm, cool, and collected in designer brands, the picture perfect girlfriend of everyone's favorite Ferrari driver. But at his place, you were… Y/n. Yapping nonstop and dancing in his living room, curled up under a blanket on his sofa watching the latest period drama, in his kitchen baking treats he isnt' supposed to eat.

It was, he thought after hugging you goodbye one night, kind of like having a girlfriend without the stress.

He still dated. Casually. Because he couldn't justify putting all the time and effort into finding a girlfriend. It was so much easier to sleep around and be friends with you. Fucked up, yeah, but easier.

Then on an off weekend you showed up unannounced, looking like you wanted to cry.

And he would have done anything to keep that from happening.

"I just needed to get away," you said, and Lando nodded, letting you in and pretending the smell of your perfume didn't affect him.

You didn't want to talk about it and he didn't pressure you. He gave you the remote and fixed you a drink and parked himself on the other end of the sofa with his laptop to edit some photos while you found some old movie to put on.

"Lan?" you asked after a while.

"Hmm?" He didn't look away from his laptop.

"If Charles…" You sighed. "If he cheated on me you'd tell me wouldn't you?"

"Immediately," he said without hesitation. Then, as your words registered, he saved his progress and closed the laptop, slowly turning to look at you. "Do you think he's cheating?"

You shrugged, eyes firmly on the TV.

"Y/n. C'mon, talk to me." Lando set the laptop aside and picked up the remote to mute the TV.

"I'm just being stupid."

He waited, and then listened while you listed off the reasons you were considering that Charles was cheating. How he'd stayed out late the night before, had left early this morning for a last minute trip to the Ferrari factory. Facing you, he moved closer, until he could hold your hand. Then, when you finished, he rattled off the usual signs of cheating to see if anything matched.

You looked at him oddly. "Got a lot of experience with cheating?"

Lando giggled, as he always did when asked a stressful question. "What? Me? Nah."

"Fucking liar," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"No, no, I never lie when I'm fucking," he said, wondering why the words were coming out of his mouth before he finished saying them. Glancing upwards, he pinched his brows together. "Well, wait, maybe I have… Like when it's mediocre but you need to get off so you say it's good?"

You laughed, which was always his goal with you. He loved your laugh, adored the way you threw your head back, and always joined in as soon as the snort you despised escaped.

"Oh god Lan," you giggled, and moved to hug him.

And he knew he was a goner. Because you felt so good in his arms. He hugged you close. He knew the healing power of a good hug but also held onto you for more selfish reasons, committing the feel of you tucked so close to his memory, breathing in the scent of you. Easing his grip as you began to pull away, he felt his breath catch in his throat when you paused, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you," you whispered.

"You know I'm always here for you." He smiled. He liked that he could make you feel better. Then, because he couldn't help himself, he had to go and ruin everything. Reaching up, he lightly smoothed your cheek with his fingers. "If he is cheating, he's a fucking moron. You're not even my girl and I can't find anyone that compares."

He still can't remember how you'd initially reacted. Surprise, probably. Maybe a little shock. But he would forever remember the way you'd breathed his name, as though Lando were a prayer, and that you'd both leaned in at the same time.

And he was certain that until his last breath he would recall every detail of what had followed. The kiss, everything pure and perfect, your hands on his neck. Him pulling you closer, both of you moaning. It had been frantic, every shred of neediness and longing pouring from his mouth to yours, every late night dream running through his mind, each fantasy he'd allowed himself to think of coming true before he'd tasted your skin.

You stayed the night, and he'd discovered that you'd fantasized, too.

***

"You good mate?"

Lando blinks, seeing Oscar in the doorway. "Yeah," he lies, rolling his shoulders. "Just thinking of strats for tomorrow."

"You've been listening to the same song for almost an hour."

Fuck. "No I haven't." He pauses the song, rubbing the back of his neck and finally moving to finish dressing. "It's a good song."

"What's going on with you? You've been acting weird for a couple months now," Oscar says.

Lando swallows the shame. It's not that he feels guilty. He's content with the arrangement between you. Not that anything is set in stone, but it's an unspoken agreement. You're still with Charles – who, it turned out, was cheating but it was a minor fling – and he's single. Technically. In his heart, he's yours.

He almost laughs because it's so beyond fucked up now.

But he can't let anyone else find out. He's been around long enough to know that you'd be the one labeled as a whore. Even though everyone's aware of Charles' infidelity, it would be your fault. And Oscar…

For someone whose entire persona is I really don't give a fuck I'm here to race, the bastard knows everything. He's like a cat. He's always there, and even when he's not listening he soaks it all in like a sponge.

He spritzes a little more cologne on himself and pulls on his hoodie. "Dunno what you're talking about, mate."

"You haven't gone out to celebrate since Miami."

Of course he hasn't. Miami was the night he'd gotten just drunk enough to dance too close to you. The secretly snapped pictures of his face in your neck are still popping up on social media. "It gets old after a while, Osc."

Oscar folds his arms over his chest and leans in the doorway. "For me, yeah. For you? Not buying it."

Goddamn the sponge cat for being so observant. Lando shrugs, maintaining he façade of yep I'm good. "Osc—"

"Is it because of y/n?"

Ice water floods his veins. He can feel the blood draining from his face and his palms begin to sweat. You've both been so careful, Miami notwithstanding. He never takes you out, makes a point to not sit too close to you in a group setting, and is his so-called normal self anytime someone else is around. It's different alone, but – oh. "You mean in Miami?" he asks casually, fixing his necklace and lifting his foot to tie his shoe.

"You were weird about her before Miami."

Oh god. "It was just a stupid crush." He ties his other shoe and checks his pockets for his wallet and hotel key. "I'm over it now."

"Lando."

"What?" He practically snaps the word out and instantly regrets it, but he can't talk to Oscar about this. Oscar will never be able to understand. "Look, I gotta go, need to get rest for tomorrow."

"Oh. I thought… I guess you are over it." Oscar gives a tiny shrug.

Lando freezes. "Why are you talking in riddles?"

"You didn't see them fighting?"

He jerks his head to stare at his teammate. When he speaks, his voice nearly cracks. "Fighting?"

"Well, arguing. I don't know what about, I didn't catch any of it. I only saw him trying to talk to her and she shoved him and stormed off."

No wonder you haven't replied to his texts. His hand aches to pull out his phone and call you to check on you. To make sure you're okay. You and Charles don't fight often but Lando knows of your tendency to go and cry until you figure out a resolution. "What did they fight about?"

"I don't know."

Lando swallows anxiously, pulling out his phone and checking the time. "Where'd she go?"

"No clue."

"You're really no fucking help," Lando mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket and brushing past him to leave the room.

"Thought you were over it?" Oscar asks softly.

Lando freezes again, anguish twisting in his chest at the thought of ever being over you. "I… She's my friend. It's… Y/n… She's…"

"She's what?"

Everything but his. Real and true and more than he ever thought he could have. His daily sunshine and his nightly fantasy. The open ear when he's having a rough go, the tight embrace when he needs grounding. His source of peace and his greatest torment.

"Fucking hell, mate," Oscar whispers.

"I gotta go," Lando says.

And he leaves, not sure why he feels so anxious all of a sudden. Everything feels off. He tells himself it's because Oscar knows, or at least thinks he knows, and that's got to be the reason. He's fine. You're fine. Nothing's changing just because you had a fight with Charles. It'll blow over and by morning things will be as they have been.

The trip to the hotel seems to take forever and he's even more uneasy as he sits in traffic a few cars back from the valet. He should have gotten an Uber or caught a ride with someone. Despite the air conditioning going he's sweating, because you still haven't replied to his texts, and when he tries to call you it goes straight to voicemail.

Hey y/n, call me when you can?

But you don't.

He stays up late, hoping you'll at least send him a text letting him know you're okay. His sleep is restless, plagued with the worst possible scenarios. When his alarm goes off he hits snooze one too many times and so has to rush to the track, trying to push everything out of his mind as race time approaches. Checking social media so he can engage with the team posts hyping up his and Oscar's starting positions, he can only stare at the screen when Instagram loads.

You. And Charles. Cozied up like soulmates. There's candlelight and flowers.

But all he can stare at is the diamond on your finger. And, just beneath the photo, Charles' short caption.

She said yes.

*~end~*

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧

summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.

notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.

୨୧

My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.

Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.

And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.

Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.

Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.

Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.

Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.

After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)

Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.

The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.

The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.

On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.

Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.

FLASHBACK

I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.

As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.

I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.

He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.

“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.

Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.

"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."

“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.

As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.

I never went back to those lockers again.

END OF THE FLASHBACK

I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.

The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.

The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.

As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.

Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.

The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.

Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone

Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.

“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.

My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"

The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.

I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.

Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,

Cameron.

"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.

My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."

Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way

I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.

Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.

"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.

He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.

Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”

The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”

“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”

Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.

Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”

He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.

Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.

"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”

“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.

“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”

Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”

“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.

Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.

I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.

As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.

Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.

“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.

I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”

Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.

He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."

Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.

I kiss his head “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answers quietly.

୨୧

hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.

also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭

[eclipsethemagic]

10 days to Christmas |MYG| |M|

Summary: One day you get a random friend request from a guy you don't know, lives across the the ocean and can play the piano. But what happens when the person you have been talking to isn't the person in the pictures?

Paring: NonIdol! Yoongi x reader

Genre: Smut, Angus, fluff

SW: Dirty talk, name calling ( slut), praise kink, oral ( m receiving and f receiving ), rough sex, sloppy sex, size kink, doggy, dry humping

WC: 4,974 ( it is a long one loves)

Song of the day: winter ahead by: V & Park Hyo Shin

[m.list] [ Yoongi m.list]

Love in psychology term is very simple. It's a deep, strong feeling of affection. It can be to a person or a thing. Truth be told, you don't think the love you know adds up to that. Every relationship you been on for the past 20 years you been living wasn't like this. You never felt that strong force to be with a person, a strong force to do anything they need you to do.

You have always forced yourself to be perfect. Force yourself to be in those relationships because that's all you have ever known. That's until you met Yoongi. He was everything in a man that you liked. From the way he talked to you, to the way he looked. He was your ideal man, and truth he honest you felt that strong emotion feeling whenever you did talk to him.

Your friend, Taehyung, had his doubts though. When you first got the friend request, it was out of the blue. You just got in the house, taking off your shoes and on a face time call with Taehyung and his boyfriend Jimin. Jimin was telling you two about work when you got the notification on Instagram. Looking back at it at the time you should of known how this would of turned out, the way the message was.

MR.SLEEPALLDAY: hello :)

You let out a little snort looking at the name, before you can even type back the person sends another message.

MR.SLEEPALLDAY: i'm sorry but ik its straight forward but you are so so so pretty

You do quickly respond back ignoring Jimin's story time.

You: well first, hello to you too. second of all you aren't bad yourself.

And after a few months Yoongi and you became friends, he tried to win your heart somewhat from what you gathered after talking him for a long as you had. He made you feel complete, like you and him would be together. from the few pictures you did gather from him he was pretty, tan, had dimples, and the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. "You sure he's real? Like not some type of catfish?" Jimin says to you one day when sits down next to you on his couch, handing you a wine glass. You chuckle and nod, giving him a small smile before bringing the cup to your lips. Jimin and his boyfriend had their doubts. I mean it wasn't every day you see someone refuse to face time. But one day Yoongi sends you a picture of him walking. which you showed Jimin, who showed Taehyung and they did end up backing down after that.

"So you can play the piano?" A yawn comes out your mouth while sitting on the phone with him one day. It was about 12 am on a Friday morning. Yoongi lets out a little hum and you hear him move around a bit. "Yeah." His voice was a little raspy as he had just gotten up earlier. "I mean- I'm not that good." His English was getting a little better from talking to you, only a few words would trip him up. "Yoongi, i bet you are amazing." He lets out a little chuckle, it makes you smile just a bit. "I can play...now? yeah I can play now for you, give me a minute." You hear him get up and disappear for a moment. After a while he comes back and you hear him move the phone and piano keys. At first you couldn't figure out the song he was playing until he started singing it softly.

"I wanna know everything there is to know, don't you dare leave me nothin' out, no I'm gonna love you completely. Oh, show me a map of your soul. Every second from now, I'm gonna love you completely." Yoongi voice was light as he sung the chorus, the piano keys playing beautifully behind his voice.  After a while he finishes the song and you start to clap. You hear his deep laugh. "Y/n it wasn't even that good, no good."

"No it was amazing! What song was it?" You reply to him. He lets out a hum for a second before answering. "Completely, it is by Jaehyun. It really reminds me of you. Everything about it."  He sighs. "I wish, you could be here for Christmas." December has always been a bit rough on you. It's supposed to be a joyful year but it always beings your mood down. Which when Yoongi brings it up? For the first time in years you don't feel sad about it, actually it gives you an idea.

So which brings you to the present. Standing outside his apartment door. You're arm raised as you go to knock on the door. Three soft knocks. Nothing. So you end up knocking again. "Who is it!?" A voice is heard behind the door, a deeper one you're used to. You don't know what the person says, but you do head the door being unlocked and open. Soft dragon brown eyes stare at you. "Who are you?" The male says in front of you. You stare at him, "um- is Yoongi here?" The tall male stares at you, which makes you wonder if he'll ever tell you. "Who's asking?"

"A friend of his.." you mumble and start looking down at your feet. The coat you had on was making your back sweat. Your cheeks heat up when the man in front of you grumbles something before yelling in his native tongue. "Namjoon-Ah why are you yelling- oh my god." Yoongi and you make eye contact. It isn't him. Matter of fact, the person that's in front of you isn't the guy in the pictures. But he has his voice, that low raspy voice that makes your stomach flip.

You don't know when the anger starts to build but the moment you stare at him again a laugh comes out of your mouth. "You got to be fucking kidding me." You could feel your stomach start to bubble and your mouth starts to water. If you throw up right now in front of these two complete strangers you might actually cry. Yoongi continues to stare at you, his mouth dry as he swallows some spit. "Y/n, can we talk? Give us a minute Joon." He looks at the younger male and pats his back twice. The guy, Namjoon hesitate for a moment, he looks at his Yoongi one more time asking him if he's sure. With a nod, he walks away and Yoongi comes out the front door and shuts it behind him.

"I knew you would look beautiful in person." He smiles softly while playing with one of his rings on his small bony fingers. His voice takes you out of your thoughts. "You lied." Yoongi smiles drops at your words. "You lied to me. And all you have to say is that I'm pretty? Like I'm supposed to smile and act like you didn't I don't know fucking catfish me!?" He flinches when you raise your voice. He looks back at the door and grabs your arm and pulls you far away from his front door. He sighs and lets go of your arm. "Idiot, you fucking idiot." He mumbles to himself in Korean and looks at you again. His hands on his thin hips.

The more you look at him, you notice that he isn't a bad looking guy. With nice looking thin pink lips, and a button looking nose, even if he used his actual pictures you still would pick him. Which brings you back to the question that you have in the back of your mind.

Why?

He doesn't even give you time to ask that either as he speaks again. "You must be tired, come on let me help you inside." As much as you want to say no, your body is screaming for some type of relief. "Fine. But you will explain everything tomorrow." He nods and grabs your suitcase and holds his front door for you to walk inside.

Yoongi's apartment was nice, it has a sweet smell of vanilla and a hint of that dark wood smell. He had pictures of his family on his wall, and a little bit of decorations here and there. As you go to take your shoes off, you hear tiny little paws tap on the wooden floor.  A brown toy poodle looks at you, it tilts its head and walks over to you. It sniffs your feet and walks away. "Well hi to you too?" You mumble. "I'm sorry that's Holly, he's a bit questionable at times." You give Yoongi a nod and he leads you to the living room.

"Hyung who was that outside- oh." Namjoon looks at you, then looks back at Yoongi. "She's the girl isn't she?" Yoongi clears his throat, you feel his hand move to your lower back and he nods before answering. "Yeah, Joon this is y/n, y/n this is Namjoon, he's one of my closest friends that's supposed to be leaving." Namjoon looks at him with his mouth open a little and points a finger to himself looking shocked. "I am?" Yoongi nods at him and smiles in a thin line and points at the door. He moves his hand from your back and leads Namjoon out of his apartment. When he shuts his door and locks it he looks back over to you. "Let's get you to bed."

When you wake up the next morning in a bed that isn't yours, everything rushes back to you. After you took a shower in Yoongi's bathroom, you two talked. And he basically told you everything you wanted to know.

"I didn't think you would like me if I used my own pictures, so I found some random guy off the internet and used his." Yoongi looks down at his hands as he speaks. "But if this makes you-want to leave and never talk to me again I understand."

And when he walks you to his room he tells you that he hopes you don't leave. As you think about it just when he said those simple words your heart starts to beat. You sit up and look around the room. Just like his living room, Yoongi room was the same, with dark black furniture and blacked out curtains. His sheets smelled just like him, that oak vanilla smell. The smell was addicting almost.

You sigh as you get out of his bed, walking to his room door you open it. A tiny Holly is standing there, with his tail wagging softly, begging you to pet him. With a smile you bend down and pet the tiny dog. Holly licks your finger tips and when you pull away he walks down the hallway, as if he's trying to lead you to his owner. When you reach the end of the hallway you see Yoongi at the stove. His back facing you and shirtless?

You could see every line of his muscles of his back on his pale skin. His PJ pants hang low on his thin hips. You'll give it to him, Yoongi was built. He didn't have a lot of muscles on his arms but he had one of those sleeper builds- which is why his nickname was grandpa because he slept all day long if you'll let him.

"Well good morning." Yoongi mumbles and hold up his mug. "Coffee?" You nod and walk over to the counter and watch him grab another cup and pour you some coffee as well. "Thank you, for listening to me yesterday." Yoongi gives you a small smile and taps his finger on his cup before lifting it to take a drink out of it. You two sit in silence for moments. It wasn't uncomfortable either, it was nice. It gave you more to look at, like the way his eyes were shaped like an almond, they were so easy to get lost in. You also noticed how long his hair was. His black hair looked so soft that you wanted to run your hair through it.

Yoongi clears his throat, "how long are you here for?" His voice brings you out of your thoughts and the thought of Yoongi knowing you were checking him out makes your cheek feel hot. "10 days, like you said you wished I would be here for Christmas and I made it happen. I mean I had to argue with Jimin and Taehyung about it. Had to also learn a few Korean words to get here. Also another thing, did your friend not know about me?"

"Namjoon? Yes and no. I like to keep what I do in private actually private." Yoongi tells you as he put his coffee cup in the sink and then points at yours. You get the hint and hand it to him. "So I have 10 days to show you the real me?" He says as you watch him wash the dishes. The question makes you tilt your head and you fold your arms. "What makes you think I want to actually continue a relationship with you?" Yoongi looks up from the sink and turns his head to look at you. "Well, 1- you haven't left yet. 2, if you give me a chance I can show you..so much more."

"Just 10 days?" You ask and he nods and holds his hand out. "Just 10 days."

You thought Yoongi was joking when he said he'll show you the real him in 10 days. On Monday he took you around Seoul, showed you all the cool places he been and wanted you to experience. He even took you to his favorite river. It had to be only 11 pm when he dragged you there. You two sit down at one of the bench that face the water.

"This view is nice." You say as you put your hands in your coat pocket. Yoongi nods and looks at you. "I come here all the time. It's so quiet, which I love. No one really comes down here unless they are on a date." He says and he speaks again. "So I'm glad I get to show you this, because this place means so much to me." He gives you a small smile and pats your knee as he gets up. "Come on, let's go back." Tuesday he doesn't take you anywhere, instead you two stay in and watch a movie.

You, Holly, and him sit on his nice gray couch, a movie you don't remember the name of is playing. But you seem so distracted by Yoongi as he laughs at a part of a scene. His laugh was also addicting. So was his smile. When he smiled his whole teeth would show giving it that gummy look. If this was Yoongi's way of making you fall in love then so be it.

It started to snow in Korea the night before, the roads were covered in pretty little fluffy snow and it fascinated you. It also fascinated Yoongi as well to see your eyes light up this morning. You let out the biggest giggle as you ran to the window. Yoongi had just got done getting dressed when he heard your giggle. He walks in the living room to see you running to the window and it was a sight to see that made his lips form into a smile. Which brings him back to the present, he takes his eyes off the television when he feels Holly jump down from the couch. He looks over at you, as you both make eye contact he smiles. "You do know I don't bite right? You come closer." He says and you laugh. "You mean you can come closer?" You end up correcting him and scooting closer to him. Your shoulders touch just a bit and it makes your body feel hot.

Yoongi doesn't say anything else through out the rest of the movie which you are grateful. Every now and again he would touch your thigh rubbing small circles. One thing about Yoongi that you noticed from being here for the past three days was that he craved physical touch. From leading you through the mall, or when you two would walk his hand would brush against yours. You did bring it up one yesterday as you two were walking. "Yoongi?" You say as you wait at the crosswalk. He lets out a hum before looking at you. "You can hold on my hand if you want." His face reacts before his mouth. His almond shaped eyes have a sort of twinkle in them when you mention it. "I rather earn it." And that's all he says as he walks across the street and it has you stuck.

And the week continues on smoothly, until Saturday when he gets an unexpected visitor. It had to he around 7 in the morning when you two hear Holly start to bark. You could hear Yoongi get up, and mumbling cuss words as he walks to his front door. You too get up, pulling down your sleep shorts you come out of his room and walk down the hall. Two voice is heard as you hit the corner. "Mom, what are you doing here?" You could hear the irritation in his voice as he sighs. You don't know what he's saying but from how he sounds you could tell he wasn't too happy. "Can't a mother not visit her son?" A woman's voice is heard as she walks in. Yoongi shuts his front door and you could hear Holly spinning in circles. "Mom I'm not saying you can't but I have never known you to come without dad, speaking of him where is he." Yoongi ask as he takes his mother coat from her and hangs it up in the closet. His mother chuckles and bends down to pick Holly. "He's out there parking the car. I love what you done with the place sweetie. You look so skinny son have you been eating?." Before Yoongi can answer her you come out from the corner and the floor boards creak bring their attention on to you.

"Sweetie why are you up?" Yoongi mumbles to you as he walks over to you. His mother watches you two and she places Holly on Yoongi's couch. "And who might this be?" Her voice brings Yoongi eyes from yours to his mother. He clears his throat and you feel his hand on the small part of your back. You take a good look at his mother, she looked just like Yoongi. From the smile, to the nose he was a splitting image of her. "Shit- mom this is y/n, the girl I told you about?" And he looks at you and smiles softly. "Y/n this is my mom." You nod and bring your hand out for her to shake it. She chuckles and pulls you into a tight hug, which takes the breath out of your lungs. For a small person she had so much strength that surprised you. "God she's beautiful in person son. So beautiful." She pulls back and her hands are on your shoulders. She gives you a smile and lets you go and looks at Yoongi. "Don't fuck this up." Yoongi lets out a little whine and says mom.

By the end of the day Yoongi and you were exhausted. The difference between Yoongi and his parents was that Mrs. Min had so much energy, different than her son. She talked and talked, and she even made you two breakfast. His dad on the other hand, he was handsome just like Yoongi. A charmer like Yoongi as well which made you know who he got his personality from. As Yoongi opens the door his parents, Mr. Min gives you a hug and he whispers something in your ear. "My son might be a handful but he loves you. So much in fact that I never seen him act this way towards any woman he's dated. so please, don't hurt him." And you won't. That very night you let Yoongi sleep with you in the same bed.

"Can I kiss you?" You hear Yoongi say randomly the following Monday. You choke on your hot chocolate and Yoongi eyes widen and you feel him pat your back. "I'm sorry that was random." He mumbles and rubs the back of neck. You don't know how to answer him, it was like he could read your mind. For the past few days you been with him all you could think about was his lips, and how they felt on yours. Would they be soft? Would they be chapped? Would they taste like tangerines? Or vanilla? Would his hands land on your cheeks to hold you or your waist? It made your head dizzy to think about it. So much so when he asked and you didn't answer he got more nervous. "I-I'm sorry for asking forget I said anything!" Before he knew it your lips land on his. Just a peck. Your lips wasn't even on there long enough and it had Yoongi melting. 

"A-Again?" He stutters out and clears his throat. His cheeks were bright pink on his pale sugar like skin. You laugh and nod before being your lips back on his. Yoongi sighs in your mouth before pulling you closer. Your chest touches his as your lips move slowly. You were right, his lips did taste like sweet tangerines on a warm sunny day.  It was so addicting. Yoongi tongue swipes your bottom lip and you open your mouth just a bit. His tongue slides against yours and you can taste the mint from his gum he had in his mouth.

Your lips were so addicting, if he could choose a way to die it'll be from your lips. Your lips molded well with his and he could taste that vanilla lipgloss you had on. His hand slides from his side to your hips, he squeezes the meaty flesh and you let out a little squeal making him laugh in the kiss. In a blink of an eye you sit on his lap, straddling him. He lets out a slow groan and pulls away from your lips and he starts kissing your jaw to your neck. You're eye flutter shut as Yoongi starts to leave big red and purple hickeys on your neck. A small gasp leaves your lips and Yoongi brings his lips back on yours roughly. You feel one of his hands leave your hip and to the back of your hair forcing you closer.

A whimper leaves the bottom of throat and your hips start to move slowly. Yoongi grunts and brings both of his hand to your ass and squeezes it softly before slapping it. "Fuck. You look so beautiful like this." You hear him say when he pulls his lips away from yours. You stare down at him, his eyes half closed as you grind down your hips. Your clit rubbing against his dick. Yoongi mutters something you don't hear before you start to kiss his neck. His shirt was in the way making you pout and looking back up at him. Yoongi laughs and sits up a bit on the couch before moving his hand from your ass to the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off.

The first thing you do is bring your hands to his chest digging your nails down his chest before you bring your lips back to his neck, bitting down on it. "All mine." You mumble under your breath. His pale skin felt hot to the touch when you being to kiss down from his neck to his chest. Yoongi watches, bitting his lip softly. Once you get on your knees you bring your hand to this crouch, you being to play with it slowly. Your eyes look at Yoongi face as he sighs and lends back, his eyes closed trying to feel the rhythm just a bit. The next thing he knows is that his sweatpants are down to his ankles and your mouth on his dick without warning.

"Shit- baby slow. I'm not going anywhere princess." But you felt like he would. Like he would disappear, melt and he would be gone from your fingers in a blink of an eye. You moan around him, bring him forward down your throat swallowing around him. You feel Yoongi's long boney fingers grip your hair, pushing you down making you choke. Yoongi thought about a lot of things, how he would die, when would he get married, would Holly have little Holly's running around, and he also thought about how your mouth would feel around his dick. Just like your kisses, your mouth was heaven. It felt like his body was being lifted, his soul being sucked out of his body and it was caused by you. His little angel. If you could die, he'll die like this. Your little lips wrapped around his cock, sucking it like a lollipop.

And you were taking it like a champ too. His thick long cock makes your jaw ache. But you didn't want to stop, you wanted to taste him, hear him moan your name. Because he was yours. No one could make him moan like you could. Spit drips down your hands as you continue to give the man above you the best blow job he's ever had. With an angle of his hips, and the hold of your hair, Yoongi moans lowly as he cums. You let out a whimper taking all of him down your throat.

The next morning you felt Yoongi's lips between your tights. His tongue flicks your clit, as his fingers work inside your sloppy center. Your hand finds his head, pushing him in between your wet cunt. Moans and whimpers leave your lips. "F-Fuck. Oh baby just like that. Please don't stop!" Yoongi groans at that, he brings your right leg on his shoulder and he continues to dig two of his fingers inside you, trying to find that sweet spot. "You taste so sweet." You hear him mumble in between your legs. You clench around his fingers as he goes harder and you see white. With one curl of his fingers you moan loudly cumming around him. Creaming around his pretty little fingers. He licks up your sweet juices before crawling back up to you and pulling you into a sloppy wet kiss.

You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue, your hands on the back of his head pulling him closer. "Open." Yoongi says when he pulls his lips away from yours, you do as he says, and he puts his two fingers that was once inside you, into your mouth. As you wrap your mouth around his fingers, sucking off your juices. "Good fucking girl." He praises you and takes his fingers out of your mouth.

Yoongi helps you on your knees, arching your back just a bit before you feel him slide in between your legs again. He groans as he rubs his tip against your wet, sticky folds. As he starts to slide in, a whimper leaves your lips, arching forward down and he starts fucking into you when he bottoms out. Each thrust takes your breath away. His thick cock hits every single spot you didn't know existed, splitting you open. "H-Hard. Please! Oh f-fuck just like that! Yoongi baby!" He starts to go harder, slapping your ass in the process. His hand pushes your head down just a bit as he goes faster. Yoongi could feel your warm walls clenching around him. "You like that don't you mamas? You like being my good little slut. Don't you baby?" You don't know what he said, but your body reacted like it knew what he said.

You two fit like a puzzle, a puzzle that craved the other one's attention. Yoongi could make you cum without even trying. It was like he knew your body better then anyone. "G-Gonna cum, can I cum?" You mumble into the pillow, a low moan leaves your mouth when you feel Yoongi roll his hips just a bit. "Go ahead baby." A few thrust later you and him cum together.

Waking up on Christmas morning was bitter sweet as Yoongi drives you to the airport. No words were spoken, and maybe it was for a good reason. The second you would open your mouth, the second you felt like you would cry. As much as the man next to you lied to you, he was everything you ever wanted.

When he helps you out the car, and with your suitcase. As you two walk to the front, you hear him mumble your name. He pulls you into a hug, a very tight one. "I'll miss you." And that makes your heart beat. "And I'll miss you too." He lets out a little chuckle before pulling away from you. "Did I do it? Did I make you mine in 10 days?" He tilts his head, giving you those dark brown eyes. You end up nodding at his question, before putting your hands on his cheeks. "Merry Christmas honey."

"And Merry Christmas to you mamas."

[sugawarassoulmate]

no nut november - nov 20

they put up a good fight but still couldn't make it...

(peachy had a very busy month so we're gonna ignore that this is late bc she wanted to finish it 😤)

farmer!ushijima & best friend!iwaizumi

word count: 330 & 531

cw: fem!reader, fingering, mutual masturbation, dubious consent (ushi and reader are drunk), infidelity (kind of), minors dni

farmer!ushijima

it might just be the alcohol in ushijima's veins telling him this isn't a bad idea but you're looking pretty in the dimly lit alley

he doesn't drink often but he'd thought he'd treat himself for a few at the bar after harvesting the last of his fall crops

it was a good season, one that exceeded his expectations, leaving him completely prepared for the cruelty of winter

you were already two shots in when you saw him, quickly challenging him to a drinking game and, uncharacteristically, ushijima accepted

and now the two of you are pawing at each other behind the saloon, ushijima's fingers already down your pants

and his fingers are so thick, filling you up more than your smaller digits would ever allow

"toshiii," you groaned, humping against his hand

you completely forgot about the stupid bet you made with your friends on a visit to the city last month

you were sure you could last the whole 30 days - you were single and aside from the occasional flirty jokes with a usually oblivious ushijima, there wasn't anyone else you were interested in

but now you're reaching into his jeans to pull his cock out

you're both gasping and breathing heavily into each other's mouths, desperate to get off

it feels nice to have ushijima, a massive, stoic man, groan with every flick of your wrist

you want him to cum first but once his thumb starts circling your clit, you don't stand a chance

even in the pleasure of your orgasm, you have enough sense to take care of ushijima, stroking him as the bliss racks through your body

within a few seconds, you can feel the warmth of his cum coating your hand

the two of you clean up as best as you can when ushijima mumbles, "sorry that you lost your game."

you can't help cracking up, finding it hilarious that he remembered the drunken conversation the two of you had earlier that night

best friend!iwaizumi

"uh huh," iwaizumi says, mindlessly tapping away at his controller. "no, you're so right, i can't believe he did that."

you're calling him again to complain about your boyfriend again

it was some stupid argument about whose family you were spending thanksgiving with - iwaizumi couldn't really care

"and then he just tells me to 'do whatever i want,' can you believe that?" you scoff

"no that's terrible, such a dick move," iwaizumi drones on, all of his focus on the game he's playing at the moment

every other week, you call up iwaizumi to have the same conversation with him - how much your boyfriend pissed you off and you want to break up

and, being the good friend that he is, iwaizumi lends his ear to listen (and his dick to comfort you after a breakup)

"i'm so done, he can spend thanksgiving alone. and the rest of his life for that matter," you huff but your threats hold no weight when the two of you are constantly getting back together

"can i come over? i don't want to be alone..." you ask after a few beats of silence

without thinking, iwaizumi agrees and you quickly end the phone call with a "okie dokie!! see you soon!"

it doesn't hit him for a few minutes but he suddenly remembers that he, oikawa, matsukawa, and hanamaki were doing that stupid no nut november thing again

you and your boyfriend seemed to be doing fine the whole month so and it wasn't like iwaizumi had any other prospects - not that he wanted any

but with you coming over (and being freshly single) there was no way he'd be able to keep his streak going

but iwaizumi is more disciplined than that and the two of you have been friends way before this weird....arrangement went down

he knows how to keep it in his pants and he can resist you no matter how hard you try

iwaizumi hajime is an idiot

it took less than half an hour for his dick to end up inside you

"fuck, haji, just like that!"

it was so embarrassing—your panties pushed to the side and iwaizumi's sweats scrunched only halfway down his legs

neither of you had enough patience to actually take the other's clothes off, like the moment was fleeting and could be ripped away at any time (and most of the time it felt that way)

"feels good? that's why you keep coming back, huh?" he grunts, pulling you into a kiss

you bite your lip, not wanting to admit that he was right but iwaizumi pins you to the mattress, plunging his cock deeper inside your cunt, forcing guttural moans from you

"not gonna admit it? that's fine, i already know, baby," he says, laughing when you cum around him

he follows soon after, not bothering to pull out cause he knows you enjoy the feeling of him filling you up

iwaizumi rolls off of you, taking a second to stare up at the ceiling. he knows the others will rip into him when they find out

reaching for his phone, he decides to get it over with before he helps you clean up.

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[rogersandclarke]

mutual 1: see the thing about obi wan is that even if he could get pregnant he would do a force-abortion on himself because he believes that strongly in adoption

mutual 2: do you think matt damon was seething and coping when j-lo dropped "dear ben" or do you think matt and ben were still hooking up at this time? essentially if the album dropped in 2002, the bennifer engagement is nov 2002-january 2004, and matt gets married in 2005,

mutual 3: my ebay bidding war for paul reubens's spit in a jar is going really well due to the psychic attacks i've been sending to the other bidder

mutual 4: local authorities wont let me into this abandoned hoarder house in rural wyoming. dies horribly. #i love drunk driving

mutual 5: listen ive studied rpf for years you dont understand. the homoerotic undercurrent of britpop is a different breed than what george and bob had going on. theres a playful aura facilitated by the early 90s

mutual 6: i am going to pound philip seymour hoffman into the ground so lovingly

mutual 7: im doing crazy things to davy jones pussy over here

mutual 8: thinking of writing my thesis on the evolution of rpf #no don't look at my lb diary yes i watched 10 martin & lewis movies this week

mutual 9: you see robbie and bob were having on and off trysts ever since robbie stopped him from killing himself in 1966 but it took martin scorseses tender devotion to show robbie how unhealthy that was

mutual 10: thankfully neil young started estrogen in early 1970. otherwise she never couldve made harvest

mutual 11: how minutes of semi-truck sound effects do you guys think i can play on my radio show before people start tuning away

mutual 12: put this post underwater sorry. but i just feel so angry when people post about their mutuals like they're people they never talk to. i've moved to different countries three times for my mutuals.

mutual 13: [picture of orson welles and anthony perkins laughing on the set of the trial] do you think they ever fucked #hot! #who said that

mutual 14: i think i could fix norman bates if we got married and adopted the eraserhead baby together.

mutual 15: [picture of a computer fucking itself]

mutual 16: m sooooo girl drink drunk daveeeeee

mutual 17: eroticism of the machine? uhhh yeah only if the machine is a sexy car #STOP PUTTING THOSE COMPUTER PICTURES ON MY DASH

mutual 18: my warriors in maine are one step closer to slipping cocaine back into stephen kings food so he can be a good writer again

mutual 19: you don't understand. walton goggins isn't just gay in the show. he also walks gay in real life. you have to understand this.

mutual 20: im going to kidnap mike stoklasa and only release him when he makes a post coming out as bisexual

EDIT: ETHAN LET ME POST THIS: mutual 21: do you think lana del rey and joan baez are hooking up. why is lana with her everywhere and introducing her documentary and doing all these things. we KNOW joan is bisexual. do you think

[verstappensseatcushion]

✩°｡⋆ pas de deux, ln4 ⋆｡°✩pt 4

part one part two part three

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

[face claim: luna montana is largely used as faceclaim but some other pinterest girlies in there too]

summary: y/n is new to monaco and quickly finds herself dancing with mclaren driver lando norris despite all intentions she has of focusing on only her career

a/n: i did not proof read so im so sorry if there's spelling mistakes at all! hope everyone had a happy holiday

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

"i think some of the other drivers should be here soon," alex, charles girlfriend, says loudly over the music.

you've been out with charles and his friends for a few hours now, meeting for drinks at someone's yacht and now at a club that you can't remember the name of. alex has quickly become the person you're clinging to, as one of the only other girls out.

"oh! i didn't know anyone else was coming," you yell back. she shrugs and gets up to pull you along with her to the dancefloor.

when you return to the booth in the corner there are more guys at the table, all laughing to themselves as they take a round of shots. charles being the first to notice yours and alex's return goes to introduce you to the new arrivals.

"everyone this is y/n," his words slur together a bit, he then points to everyone, even the ones you've met already, and reintroduces them. "and lastly we have lando."

he looks familiar, and not just from seeing him on tv or in advertisements around monaco, but it's like you've met before.

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

it's been at least an hour, and a few more drinks, since the other drivers met you guys at the club. you, alex, lando, and charles are sitting in the booth after everyone else abandoned the group for dancing. you've been sitting quietly, giggling with alex, as charles and lando go back and forth telling stories about each other.

alex leans towards charles, whispering something into his ear. he nods and then announces that they're gonna leave soon.

"i should leave too, its getting late i think," looking at your phone you see it's nearly 2am. you go to crawl out of the booth and stumble a bit trying to gain your balance. a hand reaches and grabs your arm steadying you.

"is someone taking you home?" lando asks looking down at you, hand still on your arm.

"that's a bit forward isn't it?"

"wha-oh, not like that, i mean how are you getting home," he sighs, "you're clearly drunk y/n, and no one in their right mind would let you get home alone."

giggling you try to touch both your fingers to your nose (not entirely correctly but the thought was there), "see not drunk im fine! plus i dont live far im just going to walk back to my apartment,"

"let me walk you?" he asks, moving his hand to the small of your back as he guides you to the exit.

...

"and tulip fever is why I like tulips so much, it's honestly one of the best movies I've ever watched," it's been about 20 minutes of you blabbering non-stop, walking through the middle of the street as lando follows you, "oh my god I walked into you the other day that's where I know you from! je le savais! I was on my way to classes and completely walked into you, im so sorry by the way. I can be so out of it someti-"

"breathe," lando cuts you off laughing, "I don't think you've stopped talking once since we left."

you blush with embarrassment, "I'm so sor-"

"don't apologize it's cute, I like it," he cuts you off again, "do you know where you're going, or have you just been walking down random roads hoping your apartment appears?"

you point at the building on the corner, "it's this building! I know where I'm going!"

"are you sure? because this the second time we've been on this street."

"yes I'm sure," you laugh, swatting at his chest.

he follows you as you enter the door code and walk up the stairs to your apartment door, "you coming in?" you ask.

"not tonight, just making sure the pretty girl made it home safely," he smiles, giving a half wave as he goes back down the stairs.

"goodnight lando."

"goodnight y/n."

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet

liked by ybfusername, landonorris and 4,019 others.

y/n.ballet à propos de la nuit dernière 🌷

ybfusername you better be prepared to explain those flowers missy

username5 where's the dress from?? 😍

username2 gorgeous smile

view 43 other comments

landonorris

liked by y/n.ballet, username3 and 320,872 others.

landonorris about last night 🕶

username1 that second pic omg

username3 DJ LANDOOOOO

view 4,274 other comments

[casparscunttt16]

Somethin' Stupid | Matt Sturniolo| Sturniolo Triplets.

Summary: In which you and Matt have been dating for 5 months and he says "I love you" for the first time in your relationship, on a late night drive.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Enjoy loves!

gif not mine.

The night started out as something uneventful and boring as I sat at my desk typing up my essay which should've been done exactly 3 days ago as it's due tonight at 11:59. The night was quiet, peaceful, and somewhat relaxing. While I typed away, my phone buzzed a few times before I decided to check it. All text messages from Matt.

Matt and I have been dating for about 5 months. These 5 months with him have probably been the best of my life. He never failed to make me laugh and smile, cheer me up. He truly was the sweetest boy alive and best of all he treats me so well. Before I could respond to his text message I was receiving a FaceTime call from him. I smiled and propped my phone up on a random water bottle on my desk. "Hey sweetheart, what are you up to?" He asked with his entire face up in the camera making me giggle. "Finishing up my essay. What's up? Did you need something?" I asked, as I continued typing away. "Are you almost done?" He asked as I heard his car door close.

"Not exactly." I was completely engrossed in finishing my essay before the deadline. "I was thinking we could go on a late night drive and maybe stargaze at a park?" He spoke a bit shyly as he proposed his plan. I looked at him with a big smile plastered to my face. "I would love to." such simple words of agreement made his face light up. "I'll be there in about 15 minutes baby." he replies eagerly.

"Okay see you then, bye Matt." I smiled and hung up. I got up from my desk to change out of my pjs and into something a bit more presentable but nothing special. I put on a hoodie I took from Matt and grey sweatpants with my Birkenstocks. I did some light makeup which was just mascara and concealer with lipgloss.

In 20 minutes I got a text from Matt saying he was outside, just as I was about to walk out there was a knock at my apartment door. I opened the door to Matt obviously. "You look so cute." he smiles looking down at me then placing a gentle kiss on my lips. "Thank you Matty." I interlinked our fingers together, he leads me out the door and down into the parking lot. He walks over to the passenger side, opening the door for me and buckling me in. I smiled at the gesture and adjusted the seat to my liking.

He played some soft background music as he drove us to a park with a big field. He went to his trunk and grabbed blankets and pillows. "Babe do you need help?" I asked and he shook his head no.

He set everything up and patted a spot on the blanket next to him. We laid next to each other staring up at the stars. The music from the car still lightly playing in the background. He glances over at me. "What?" I questioned with a smile. "The moon is beautiful isn't it?" he replies, leaning into me, staring at my lips. "Quit being so cheesy." I rolled my eyes playfully. He pulls me closer, sort of leaning over, on top of me. His presses his lips against mine gently. He wrapped his arms around me lovingly while our lips moved in sync. After a few moments he pulled away and stared somewhat longingly into my eyes. "I love you" he speaks just slightly above a whisper, his tone is soft yet direct as he stares into my eyes. "I love you" I replied softly.

A/n: Leave requests 🤗

[nemisuki]

Winter Breeze

Highschool AU | Waking up late was never unusual for you. It was a bad habit for sure. You're often running hoping to catch the next train to make it in time for school. But one day when you spot a certain white haired individual, you're in for a surprise. Perhaps being late brought one good thing into your life. 

᧔o᧓ || gojo satoru x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, 1.3k word count

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Of course you're late.

When are you not? 

As you swiftly maneuver through the crowded train station, you mutter apology after apology whenever you accidentally bump into somebody. You try to ignore the stares and occasional glares from the passing civilians as you finally reach the turnaisles. Quickly tapping your phone on the scanner and rushing to the station. 

Your eyes dart to the screen hanging down from the ceiling near the escalators. 1 minute for the next train. 

Seriously? Okay then… What about the one after that-

20 minutes.  

Y/N doesn't miss a beat, already used to the delayed arrival of these trains on the daily. With haste she rushes to the escalator and speed walks up the moving steps, zig-zagging through people. Hopefully she can make it intime. 

She finally makes it to the last step and takes a deep breath. Sighing with relief at the sight of civilians still waiting for the upcoming train. 

That's when she spots him. 

In order to avoid a crowded cart, she walks further down the platform where less people are waiting. Y/N pauses in her step when she sees a specific figure in her peripheral vision. Turning her head slowly, her eyes land on the stranger. He's on the opposite platform waiting for a different train, leaning against the wall as he scrolls through his phone. 

The boy isn't doing anything flashy, just listening to music through his wired headphones. Yet he has such a unique appearance that it's almost impossible to look away from. She had to do a double take. He was that gorgeous. Y/N has never seen someone even look remotely close to him. White hair as pure as snow. Tall. Fit. Is he even human? 

Y/N wasn't close enough to see the color of his eyes but it didn't matter. She just knows they are beautiful. She just stood in the middle of the platform and admired him from across the train tracks, she definitely had not seen him before. She would have remembered if she did. 

Her heart skips a beat as he slowly raises his head almost as if he sensed someone staring. However before he spots her, the train zooms into the station. Blocking their line of view and bringing Y/N back to earth. She shakes her head trying to focus and gets on the train before the doors close.

Thankfully she finds a seat near the windows and plops down, putting her school bag on her lap. Out of curiosity, her head attempts to subtly turn and take one final glance at the boy. Surely she won't ever see him again after today. Too many possibilities were in the air. 

Perhaps he's a foreigner here on vacation. Maybe he doesn't live in this district. Who knows? 

So her eyes land on him once again. Once again staring at his phone with nonchalance. Until his eyes lift to meet hers, like he was expecting it. An unreadable expression on his face when staring at her. Immediately she quickly avoids eye contact and looks back down at her lap. How embarrassing, he caught her staring. 

The train slowly starts moving and Y/N sighs as she takes one final peek back at him. His eyes never left hers as his lips slowly curve upwards and….. he winks. She didn't have time to react as the train sped off. 

Leaving her to bury her head in her backpack. Her heart is beating so fast that it rivals the speed of the train.

Y/N was so lost in thought about the significance of the wink that she ended up missing her stop for school. 

All she could think about was their interaction and…….. blue. His eyes were crystal blue. 

She was in fact late to the first period. Nothing new. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ NEXT WEEK ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 

“He's here again!” she mumbles under her breath as she spots him in the same spot as last time. Embarrassingly, she tried to show up around the same time for a few days now but has failed to see him. Today she decided to show up a bit early and it worked. If he winked at her that is a good sign right? 

Now he's there. Yet she's too nervous to do anything. I mean what can she even do when he's across the tracks? She never has even taken that train before. He seems to be taking the train to school as well. She can tell by a school bag he's carrying. 

Well she's not gonna keep staring like a creep….. She has to say something! 

Y/N takes a deep breath to calm her growing nerves. Her stomach feels all queasy and the hands hidden within her winter gloves are sweating. She doesn't have much experience with romance. But if she doesn't try now then she may not ever get another chance. 

With that in mind, she walks directly across from him on her platform and her hand slowly lifts up. It takes all of her courage to not chicken out and her cheeks already feel warm. Her hand starts waving towards him trying to grasp his attention. Thankfully after a few seconds, the boy notices and looks over at her. 

Oh. Oh shoot. 

Her heart flutters and she doesn't know what to do. I mean he cant hear her unless she screams. Her eyes darted around and the station was crowded as usual at this hour. What was she thinking?! In a matter of seconds he swiftly puts his phone in his coat pocket. Giving her all his attention. So he does remember her. 

Her brain short circuits and she slowly mouths that first thing she can think of. 

“I…. Like…. Your….hair!” 

….

….

….

She wants to die. 

Oh my god this is so embarrassing. She's never talking to any boy again. Goodbye world. He probably thinks she’s lame and awkward. With those looks he’s definitely popular at whatever school he attends. As Y/N is having an internal crisis, she watches as he likely thinks about her words. Honestly she hopes he didn't understand her. That will save her the embarrassment she brought upon herself. 

She watches as he tilts his head to the side and he smiles. 

Y/N swears she can hear her own heartbeat in her ears. He's pretty but the way his face brightens up when he smiles is just extraordinary. She didn't understand, it was in the middle of winter yet she felt hot to the touch.

“I…. Like…. Your…. Face” he mouths back to her as he pushes himself off the wall to stand up fully. Confidence radiating off him from that one line. 

Huh? Wait, did he just…

Before she had time to process this, his train zooms into the station and stops for passengers to get on. It blocked her view of him, thankfully erasing his view of her flustered state. It was short lived as he appeared near the window and continued staring at her with a smile or smirk, she couldn't quite tell. 

She saw as he lifted his hand and waved bye to her.

Y/N was so dazed at his responses that she didn't respond right away. But as the train slowly moved about to leave the station. Her hand quickly shoots up and waves bye. A look of awe in her face. 

“B-Bye……” she mumbles out loud as if he could hear her. Maybe it was her flustered face. Maybe it was the way her body was stiff as a rock. Maybe he saw her mumble something under her breath. 

Because after her little awkward wave to him, his lips curved upwards more and he started chuckling a little at her. Straight after that, the train zooms and exits the station in a flash. The cold breeze from the train's departure makes her hair sway in the wind. It's freezing out here, yet her body felt like it was on fire. 

She stood there frozen like winter air got the better of her. 

Already planning to come to this station at the same time tomorrow. 

And for the first time in a while Y/N was early for school.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

[justlemmeadoreyou]

a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)

Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)

masterlist | tip me! | ask box!

Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope

Word Count: ~2k

8 hours.

That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.

You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.

It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.

You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.

You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.

It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.

“Could you move your car out of here, please?”

You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.

“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.

You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.

Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Now even your car had given up on you.

You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.

You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.

You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.

With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.

Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.

A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.

Quick Fix Auto

You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.

“Hello?”

You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.

“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.

You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.

After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.

“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”

“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”

He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.

He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.

“How long has this been on for?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”

He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.

“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”

“No! Where will I live?”

You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.

You could book a hotel?”

“I don’t have money.”

“A motel?”

“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”

“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”

She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.

"I'm Yn." she said.

"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."

She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"

You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.

"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."

"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."

And the grumpiness was back.

"Okay! Can I go in?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.

Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.

It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.

Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.

You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you working on my car?"

He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."

You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.

"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."

"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"

"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."

He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.

"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."

"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."

You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?

Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.

(next part)

divider by @firefly-graphics

okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry

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[verstappentime]

Max mutes the TV, hoping that will get Charles's attention, and doesn't look at him when he says, "I think I'm in love with Daniel." AKA: it's 2017. charles is max's best friend in the whole world. they're turning 20, max wins in malaysia, charles wins the f2 championship, and max needs to tell him something. also: a little coming of age precursor to my unfinished maxiel divorce fic.

maxiel + max & charles | hurt/comfort & dealing with their respective hard years | 3.4k

Max has not gotten to hug Charles in so long. That's what he's thinking when he stumbles down from the podium.

Just a few minutes ago, he was livid at Prema and their stupid safety car cockup. Then he was elated as Charles crossed the finish line, and he triple checked the points to confirm – he really is champion. Now, Max just wants to see him, desperately.

Someone takes the bottle of champagne from Charles, and Max makes his move, crashing bodily into him. Charles isn't like him – he doesn't freeze, just wraps both arms around Max and hangs on. 

He had been worried about Charles not having family here. But he's reminded, as that feeling of coming home blooms, that he does now. 

Neither of them say anything for a beat. Then Max, newly bigger and broader than Charles, hefts him up and spins him around and they both start screaming. "Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc–" Max stops to breathe. "You are the motherfucking 2017 F2 champion!"

Charles is breathless. He looks the happiest Max has seen him in four months. "Oh my god. Holy shit."

Charles has won a lot of championships in his life. But this one means the most. They both know it. 

Max sets him down. "Was that the French anthem?" 

Charles nods, pained. They manage to stay straight-faced for about five seconds.

It takes them a good two minutes to stop laughing. Max's ribcage actually hurts.

"I am so glad my dad was not here to see that," Charles says, once he's done gasping for air.  His smile twitches, though. Max pulls him back in for a hug.

"I am so proud of you, okay?" He presses his nose into Charles's hair, even though he's sticky all over with champagne. Herve would be proud, too, but Max will tell him that later, in private. 

Charles clings on. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it."

"Of course I made it. Did you hear what I said?" 

"Yeah." Charles's voice sounds wet. Max just keeps hugging him. "Thank you." 

"I mean it. You are so fucking crazy, oh my god," Max continues. "I don't know how you did that." Max had nearly looked away, that last lap with five cars on the back of him, not wanting to see Charles lose his win. Stupid to bet against him.

"I didn't lift the throttle," Charles says. His shoulders are shaking. Max can't tell if he's laughing or crying, but he thinks it's the second one. Max doesn't let go, incase he doesn't want anyone to see.

"Your tires were, like, a banana." 

"I know. I thought probably I would bin it." It's Charles who finally pulls back. He rubs his face with his sleeve, and Max wonders if he knows he's just smearing champagne around.

"I sent some videos to your mom, of the podium. I muted them." It gets Charles to laugh again. Max has more to say. He isn't good with words. "You're going to get the seat," he says. Maybe he shouldn't. But he's never been more certain. "You're going to race with me next year." 

"Better watch out, I guess," Charles says. 

&&&

Max got them a fancy hotel room. Having a lot of money is still weird, but he likes to spend it on stuff like this. He likes comfortable beds and having a lot of space and a big shower. He likes being able to bring Charles with him. 

It has two queen beds, even though he's shared a bed with Charles a thousand times before. He thought it would be nice. 

They're crowded on the same one for now, Max watching the history channel with subtitles on and Charles curled on his side, fucking around on his phone. He's getting congratulations from everyone he knows. Charles is popular. It's a lot of people.

After the sprint tomorrow, they'll find something to celebrate, but for now it's good to just. Be around someone who knows how to be around him. 

Max mutes the TV, hoping that will get Charles's attention, and doesn't look at him when he says, "I think I'm in love with Daniel." 

He's been wanting and wanting to tell Charles. He thought maybe when they both got back to Monaco. But it keeps trying to jump out of his throat, like he swallowed a fly or something.

He's never been nervous to tell him anything before, but as soon as it's out, his heart starts beating fast. Charles is taking too long to say something.

"Okay," Charles says, finally. He pushes himself up to sit beside Max. "That's okay."

Charles likes boys. Max has known this since they were twelve. But Max has only ever had a fleeting interest in anyone, and it's never been important, and– and now Daniel is important, and he has to think about it all. He doesn't want to.

"I don't know about being gay or whatever," he says. He still isn't looking at Charles. "I don't know if I am."

He's had sex with girls and he'd liked some of it but maybe not enough. He's had one weird hookup with a guy, a friend of Charles from school or something, after their birthday party last year. He liked that more but he was drunk and sleepy and they called it off after he sucked the guy's dick. Charles had been pissed that it happened while he was sleeping on the couch in the same flat and never asked Max any questions about it. He didn't want to dissect it then and he doesn't now. He just – liked that guy's dick, and he likes Daniel.

He knows what he likes to look at and think about, but only things in real life matter. 

"Okay," Charles says again. His voice is careful. "That's fine. We can skip that." There's a hand, gentle on his wrist. "I knew there was something going on with you." 

Max has been a little off, he knows that. He wants to talk about Daniel all the time and he's worried that he'll do it too much, so sometimes he just doesn't say anything. Charles asks about his day and he tries to sum it up: The team went to this, the team went to that. I'm tired. It was a long day. The car is shit. The car isn't shit. Something something. Charles has asked if he's okay. Max has been trying to be okay whenever Charles asks, this year. 

"I don't know if I– if I'm in love with him," he says, and his voice cracks. He finally lets himself look at Charles, needing, suddenly, to see acceptance on his face. He's the same as always, big green eyes soft. Max tries to say the next part quickly. "I know he's older than me and stuff. I don't want it to be true but I think it is." 

Charles moves so he's sitting in front of Max, criss-cross, and squeezes his ankle. "It's okay if it's true. You'll figure it out. I'll help."

"I think it's true," Max says. He wants to cry. 

"It's okay if you like him. It's good to love someone." Charles keeps his hand on Max's ankle. Touch has always been instinctual for him. Max has never been like that. "I wish you weren't hiding this from me."

"I wanted to tell you. I was waiting." 

"You told me now. It's okay." 

"It feels weird," Max says. He is really hoping he doesn't cry. He can't be crying over his teammate. He has to see him in a few days, at the factory. 

"It is weird," Charles says. He was always in love, when they were kids. Max never was. 

"I used to think I was in love with you. When we were like, thirteen," Max says. He can say it now because he knows it's not true.

"Yeah, I know." Charles is grinning at him. It's the way he looks when everything's going to be okay. "You were always staring at me with your weird bug eyes." 

"I just thought maybe," Max says, and he coughs out a laugh. "But then I realised you are so annoying and I didn't want to kiss you." 

"And you do love me," Charles says, shrugging. "That's different. Do you want to kiss Daniel?" 

That's easy. "Yes. I want to so much. And always I want him to talk to me and be near me and I get jealous if he's not. Or when we go to these things and he doesn't have time for me. And if he helps me with my helmet or something I want to throw up." 

"But it feels nice too, yeah?" Charles is searching his face. 

"Yeah. It feels nice." 

"Okay. Then it's a good thing." A lot of the time, Max feels like he's too old for everyone his age. But Charles has grown up a lot the past three years. He looks so much older than nearly twenty, right now. Calm and sure. It's soothing. It's that grating two weeks where they're not the same age. But maybe Max can be the younger one for a moment. 

"I want it to be a good thing," he says, and he sounds small and more unsure than he ever hears himself.

"You aren't not telling me stuff, right?" Charles lays his hand on Max's shoulder. "Max? Because of– because of Papa and everything?"

"I—" He's just trying to be okay when Charles asks. He doesn't know how to say that. I would die before I would make this worse for you, maybe. He chews at the cuticle on his thumb. "I haven't told anyone," he says, lamely. Charles just keeps watching him. He doesn't move his hand. He looks like he's caught Max doing something he shouldn't. "You had a championship to focus on," Max tries. 

"I won it now. So now you will talk to me, yes?" 

"Yeah." Max swallows. He'll have to. He wants to talk about Daniel all the fucking time. He's not that strong. He tries to let Charles's touch be comforting. He's in love with Daniel and someone knows. Charles knows. He wants to hear more about it. He's not angry. It's good. It should feel good. "Can you tell me how it's okay again?" He's needed to hear it so long. So, so long. 

Charles looks sad. "Come here." He untangles himself so he can flop onto his back. It's been a long time since they could do this, since Max could curl up perpendicular with his head in Charles's lap. It's nice and he didn't want to ask for it. 

Maybe if he has a boyfriend one day they won't do this anymore. He wants one but only if it's Daniel. Maybe Daniel won't care. 

Charles scratches his scalp, the way his mom does, when he's too tired to even talk with her when he comes home. Probably Charles did it first. He didn't see his mom for a long time. "It's okay," Charles says. "It's okay. It's a good thing, Max." 

He breathes. Daniel is a good thing. Max will be able to talk about it now. That's going to be better. Maybe it can feel like something new growing in his chest instead of something festering. "It's stupid," he says, just so Charles will tell him it isn't.

Charles says, "Loving someone is never stupid." He hesitates for a second. "I keep– all the time thinking about how life is short. You know. Because Jules– and Papa– It's. What's the word in English? Like I am obsessed?" 

Max's chest tightens. He wishes he could see him. Charles doesn't see life as fair or unfair, but Max does, and Charles hurting is fucking unfair. "Yeah, that's the word," he says.

"Anyway," Charles says, after a long, shaky moment. "All the time, I think about it. And I think if you love someone it is going to be a waste of time to pretend that you don't, or say it's stupid." 

He sounds grown up. Really, really grown up. He sounds right, like Max should trust him, the blind way a child does. "Okay," he says, quiet, like a secret. "I might not tell him though."

Charles starts petting his hair again. Max really hopes he hasn't made him sad. "What about Malaysia?" he asks, and he sounds normal. "Was it fun, with him?" 

Max tells him about the day of his real  birthday, about how they couldn't go out because of the race the next day but the team brought him a cake. It was Daniel who brought it out to him. Maybe it was his idea, Max doesn't know. But he looked happy. He said something about how it would be nice not to have a teenage teammate anymore, but not in a mean way. It felt like he was excited about Max's birthday, too.

"And everyone was so happy that I won," Max says. "Daniel was, even though he didn't win. He said it was like a birthday present, except for I earned it." Max's dad has been angry at him, about the season being shit. The win wasn't good enough for him and he didn't call, but his mom had been really happy, and Daniel had, too, and Christian, and GP. Charles had called. It was nice. It felt good, when Daniel hugged him and said he'd done an incredible job.

"You both looked really happy on the podium," Charles says. "You have some nice pictures now." 

"I saved them in my phone," Max admits. They do look really happy. He thinks sometimes he's the happiest he's been, when he's around Daniel. Winning, and with Daniel. He feels bad thinking it, when he's here with Charles– but it's different. Love feels different. 

Charles doesn't say it's weird or anything. "Good. Then you can look at them." 

He peppers Max with questions about their night out on Sunday, for his birthday and for the double podium. He talks about how they had an expensive team dinner and GP said some nice stuff about him before they had another cake. Charles stops him. "What kind of stuff?" 

"I don't know. Like about how all of his wins have been with me and it's special." He'd said how Max is really kind off the track and people don't always know that. He'd said he's the most talented driver he's known, and Max had thought maybe that was unfair, because Daniel was sitting there, but it had felt– really good. He doesn't want to tell Charles all of it. That can be his to keep.

Charles hums. "Okay, and then what?" 

"Me and Daniel and some of the guys went out to a club. You would have liked it. I– I wanted to kiss him a lot. The whole time. But I didn't. But it was good. I liked that he was there." Max feels around for his phone, unlocks it and passes it up to Charles. "You can look at the pictures. Some of them are funny." 

"I will kill you if there's nudes in here," Charles says. Max reaches back to wack him on the arm. 

"There are no fucking–" 

"I don't know, Max, I'm pretty sure that is a dick." Charles sounds deadly serious.

Max flips himself over. He doesn't even have time to panic before he sees the wicked grin on Charles's face, and lunges at him.

"Give me that, you shithead, oh my god–" Charles holds the phone aloft so Max can't get it. 

"Oh, hey." Charles bats at Max, half-hearted. "Daniel texted you." 

"No he didn't, you fucking liar." Max pushes himself up so they're level. Charles looks thoughtful, squinting at the screen like he's reading something. Maybe he's not– "Charles. Come on. It's not funny." 

Charles passes the phone to him. He's smiling. "I think I like him very much." 

There is, after all, a text from Daniel. It's a picture of his laptop screen. It's got the F2 race on, Charles in P1, with the whole pack behind him, just before the finish line. INSANE race, mate!! Tell him congrats from me!! That's my ROTY vote in the bag!! We are screwed when he comes to F1 tho. Hope you're having fun, England wet and boring.

Daniel likes exclamation points a lot. He likes making texts longer than they maybe have to be, and adding irrelevant details at the end. Max didn't ask about England. But he likes that Daniel wants him to know. He likes that Daniel watched Charles's race, and acknowledges how fucking good he is. He likes Daniel so, so much.

"That was nice," Max says. It sounds stupid.

"Text him back," Charles says. "Tell him I am the best driver in the whole world, and if he sends nudes you can show those to me." 

Max glares. "I will tell him your IQ is seven, so he doesn't have to worry." 

"I don't even know what that means," Charles says, but he sing-songs it, which means he's pretending. He speaks English perfectly fine, until Max is insulting him.

Max ignores him. He tries to sound normal in his response, like he hasn't just confessed he's in love with Daniel outloud for the first time ever.

Charles says thnx!! Prema are stupid idiots, I cannot believe he won. Glad I made it. Be in MK Monday, think of a good prank for GP. He wants to put a heart, but that feels stupid. It's just. He wants Daniel to know.

Something new happened today. Something changed. You changed me. You might never know, but you did. He can't communicate that with a fucking emoji.

Eventually, he puts three little race cars and the tranquil looking smiley face, and passes the phone back to Charles. 

Charles flips through the pictures without being a fucking dick. He laughs at the ones of Max eating limes at the bar, because he was fucked up and thought that's what they were for. Daniel snapped one of Max passed out in the taxi that Charles sends to himself. "I will think of a use for it later, there is a joke there," he says.

"You're annoying," Max says, but doesn't protest. It will probably be funny.

Charles scrolls some more. "Max," he says, quiet and serious. "Did you see this one?" 

When he gives Max the phone, there's a picture of him and Daniel on the screen. His forehead is pressed against Daniel's shoulder, Daniel's hand light on his back. They're laughing, and they look really, really happy. "I didn't look at the ones with Daniel. I didn't know if– if maybe they were embarrassing." Max presses his thumb to the picture, like he could transfer himself back into that moment.

"They're not embarrassing," Charles says. "It just looks like you love him." 

&&& 

Prema fucks up again, and Charles is P7 on Sunday. Neither of them care. Max takes him out for his birthday. He's a world champion. Even if it's been hard to carve out good moments this year, it's a fucking good one.

Charles hugs him extra tight when he leaves for the airport, hungover and dreading going round and round in the sim. "You'll talk to me," Charles says, not a question. 

"I will. Promise." Max pulls him back in for another hug. "I'm so fucking proud of you. Just–" It's hard to leave him every time. To think about the bad days coming and going without Max there. But Charles has other friends. He has his family. "Just. I'll see you soon." 

Charles presses his face against Max's shoulder, just for a second, and then he lets go. He doesn't like to say goodbye, and it's not for that long anyway, so he doesn't. 

Later, Charles texts him a screenshot. It's of a guy who sort of look like Robin Williams but isn't. There's movie captions on it. Our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. He always does stuff like this. Sends Max quotes and sports highlights and things, little bits of wisdom anywhere he can find them. Max likes to text all the time, but mostly stupid shit. Charles is always with the drama. 

This one, though. He sits in his plane seat and reads it a few more times. Charles writes underneath: Not stupid. Don't ignore it ❤️❤️

Max reads it again. The not-Robin-Williams guy isn't wrong.

He sends back: I'll try, and makes the picture of him and Daniel his background.

[sportsthoughts]

I am sick of Yohe's misery and spent five minutes thinking I wish I had ten nice things to read this morning before realising I could write them myself:

Jarry - who, let's not pretend otherwise, is not my favourite goalie in the NHL - was fantastic at lots of points especially at the start of the game (let's not talk about the bit where he wandered off at the end, we've all gone rouge at the end of a night out haven't we, let's not be judgemental). Do I know what makes a goalie fantastic? Not really. But he made lots of saves and there were many points where I thought we were done for but he came through. He really really tried and God loves a trier and it's also really nice that Ned got a bit of a break. Being a goalie for a special team like ours must be tiring

Nostril boy scored a great goal which is an enormous feat considering he was skating on a line with a Drew O'Connor who's shaved head looks so bad it would frankly throw anyone off their game. I wonder if Sid will now declare the baldness unlucky and send him to Geno's hair man

On that point - Doc admitted that his hair looks terrible - which, yes, I know that isn't exactly a win from a hockey perspective but it's a man showing self awareness which is a rare win for humanity and not to be overlooked. I think Yohe could actually really spice up his journalism by writing a piece on our hair to win ratio

Sid's assist on Raks' goal was gorgeous. Gorgeous!! It wasn't goal 600 but it was a point and a beautiful one AND we got to see him smile

Our powerplay wasn't horrific. Our PK wasn't horrific. At points they looked good! I didn't feel sick watching either and the dash managed to stay mostly sane!

All our young guys were pretty good! And hey!! We have young guys!! Young guys playing on our team!! Let us not be ungrateful for what we have. Do I squint at their numbers on my grainy livestream and say who is that? What line is that? Where did you come from? Yes, but change is sometimes good and they lower our average age by like ten years

Geno showed so much energy towards the end of the game. I know he didn't do much but my gosh he really tried! He clearly had the legs. I don't like to dwell on it but at some points last season he just looked slow and tired not quite there and last night he looked hungry for it! He's been so great this season. I could make a point about the motivational powers of the stache here but i'm not Rossi so i'll leave the RPF to those better qualified

Also, Geno's line started the game! We rarely get to see him being broody on the ice during the anthems so that was a lovely treat.

For my fellow stachefuckers, the sidstache (and rustache and others) are all going strong. How long will they survive? I'm not sure. But we've made it 20 days with our beautiful slugs intact and that's so much better than last year. We have so many pictures! So many gifs. So many clips of the stache being discussed! Movember 2024 has not disappointed

Finally, it was a Hockey Fights Cancer night! There were some lovely stories and it was so moving to see survivors celebrating at the game. I think this is where Sid would say something nice about hockey being more than a game and having the power to unite people and include them in a community and give hope and inspire and and and. So insert that here. I think he's right.

[deathofacupid]

cool | peter parker

a/n: this concept was so sweet to me, and i had to write something for it. okay, so yeah, this is technically irondad + spiderson... but i wanted to add to it.

repost because this fic flopped with, like, 10 notes. if you look at the og, it says 700ish because of the prev notes of what i reblogged. interact with this fic, it's what keeps me going!

summary: you find that a brown haired boy is always at the restraunt you work at, covered with cuts and bruises. you're curious, so what do you do?

warnings: cursing, minor angst (not really tho, mostly fluff)

pairing: fem!reader x post-nwh!peter parker

word count: 1.5k+ words

you're working late, you don't normally. it doesn't hurt though, having a side hustle outside of college. with shit parents, community college is really all you have as an option, so extra money is welcomed.

it's 20 minutes until closing time, and you're the only one left. you've read enough articles and watched enough true crime to be at least a little paranoid. not expecting anyone else, you spray a table, wiping it down with a rag. might as well get started with cleaning, right?

so when you hear the familiar chime of the door, you've got the right to be suprised. looking up, you're greeted by the sight of a boy. he's got soft brown curls, and (you find, once you meet his gaze) matching dark, hazel eyes.

you wave at him and move behind the register. he looks harmless, but don't most men that have bad intentions? not that you think he's going to do anything.

you're just a woman. it's the way of life, this thought spiral.

"hi, what can i get you?" when he's closer, you can see the cut he's got on his cheek. it's dried blood, but still enough to make your eyebrows shoot up. in fact, he's got a bruise too.

under his left eye, and by the yellow-green, you can tell it's fresh. it's not your business to ask, well, it is... but you're only asking about his order. he runs a hand through his hair, obviously trying to tame it.

there's a leaf at the top, tangled in there. you want to take it out.

he sniffs, eying the menu. you've never seen him here before, and you've been working here for a while. now that you're looking at him, his eye looks swollen - like someone socked him. "a- a cheese-"

you're not sure where the sudden courage comes from, but you cut him off; "do you want an ice pack? or, uh, maybe frozen peas?"

he looks startled for a second, as if he were just now knocked out og this long train of thought. he pauses to touch his eye, "um," you can tell he doesn't want to trouble you, but you're intrigued now.

"seriously, it's no problem." (on the account you have frozen peas, then it would be no problem. if you didn't... a pack of cold, raw meat-?)

"sure, yeah."

"cool. er- stay right there." you go to the freezer room, rummaging around for frozen peas. it takes you a minute, and you're afraid there are none for a moment, but there are. triumphantly, you bring them back out.

he's standing in the same place, although you're not sure why he would've left. "peas!" you sing-song. handing them to him, you smile.

he throws one back, though it's forced and kind of hollow. you're afraid you've made him uncomfortable, or that you're too much. are you too much?

he squints at your nametag, "thanks, uh, gertrude?"

you're confused for a second, "oh, she's dead."

"i- sorry?" he tilts his head, now he's confused too.

"no, i mean, this isn't my nametag. it's old. like, super old. manager's dead wife. this place is too cheap to get new ones, so we, like, basically catfish people."

he nods, "okay. what's is it then?"

"huh?"

"your name."

you mentally smack your forehead, of course that's what he was asking. "y/n."

"cool. i'm peter. peter parker."

"nice to meet you peter peter parker," it's your attempt at a joke, paired with a lopsided grin. it makes peter smile though, so you consider it a win.

peter presses the pack to his eye, a wince turning into a sigh. oddly enough, it sounds sexual to you, and your face is heating up. what's wrong with you? seriously?

"okay, well, um, i assume you still wanna order something?"

"yeah. maybe just a cheeseburger and fries?"

"you got it," it's closing time, but you don't mind. peter is cute, and he seems nice as well. you're more than happy to stay around longer. "on the house," you say when he tries to offer you money, "seems like you had a rough night."

"no, i-"

"no sweat, parker."

you ring up his order, get it ready, and by the time you're done, he's settled at a table. "here you go. enjoy!"

you go back to sweeping, but you want to talk to him more. "you live around here? i haven't seen you here before."

"uh... not exactly. i don't come here often. i, um," he presses his lips together, "had a friend that brought me here. once or twice."

you frown, "oh, i'm sorry."

"what?" peter looks up from his meal.

"i just- well, you used past tense so i assumed you don't... aren't in touch anymore?" maybe small talk was a bad idea.

"oh. yeah. i guess. he's not really... around. he passed a little while back."

it's like your heart physically aches. "that's sad to hear."

"yeah. 's okay though, getting by fine. or- or better."

"mhm. it gets better. lost my sister a few a years back."

"really? i'm sorry." they're empty words, you've probably heard them a lot, he knows that. you know he knows that.

"thanks."

"yeah," it's quiet for a little while longer.

"so, uh," he pauses, taking a sip of his water, "are you still in school?"

"college," you pause, slightly embarrassed, "community, i mean."

"oh. cool. i'm at midtown. it's not, like, super fancy or whatever..."

you cut him off, shrugging, "better than community. and isn't it like so stupid, how they basically tell you that college is a must, and then have you pay all this money? 'oh, you need it for a good future!'" you mock, "aw, really? then make it free!"

you freeze, realizing you've gone on a tangent. "sorry," you say, flushing.

"no, it's okay," he laughs. "it's cool you're... passionate."

"thanks," you put the broom away. "um, i have to go take out the trash. would you mind... not stealing anything?"

"i'll try," he jokes.

"cool. i believe in your ability of self-restraint."

"cool," he says, matching your tone.

"cool."

"cool."

"okay, that got weird after the, like, second time," you make a face.

"no, yeah, i agree."

"cool," you say, staring at each other in dead silence, before bursting into laughter. you hold up the trashbag, "yeah, so, one sec."

you push open the back door, tossing the bag in the dumpster.

he's so nice, you think. look at you, falling for a basically stranger. you walk back in, closing the door behind you. you notice he's done, so you throw out his things, cleaning down the table.

"hey, uh, when do you close?" peter asks.

you check the clock, "mm... 15 minutes ago."

"holy shit, really?"

"yeah. it's cool though. i was closing anyway, and the company didn't hurt. also... it looked like you needed this."

he looks down at his shoes, smiling, "yeah, no, i did. thanks. and sorry."

"like i said, it's cool."

"cool," you stop, "are you in a cult?" you blurt.

"um, sorry?"

"sorry, like, i just, you look... beat up. and i was wondering if you were in a gang... or something." you squint at the dried blood on his knuckles.

"uh... i am not."

"then how'd you get those?"

he looks conflicted, and you've probably crossed a line. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. obviously, it's not my business. i was just... curious."

you wipe down your last table, cursing yourself internally.

"no, it's cool. i'm..."

"seriously, it's not my business. don't tell me, actually. plausible deniability," you joke.

he says something, and it's so quiet, you don't hear it. "what?" you ask.

"i'm spider-man!"

"uh. what?"

"you don't know spider-man?"

"no, of course i know spider-man!"

"well, yeah. that's me. suprise." he says, doing a small show of jazz-hands.

"there's legit no way. i know i catfished you earlier, but that was on accident!"

he tilts his head, as if he's weighing his options. in reponse, you narrow your eyes at him, trying to figure out if it's one big joke. after that, it's so quick, you barely notice. something hits your hip, not harshly, and then you're spinning towards peter.

"holy-!" you look down at your side, trying to figure out what it is. you're tucked into peter, and you realize it's... a web. "no. way."

"yes way."

"why'd you tell me? now i can't plausibly deny anything! also, isn't this supposed to be a secret? isn't that the point of the mask? how do you know i won't sell you out?"

"that was a lot."

"i know. but it was very valid."

"i don't know. i just wanted to. you're nice and sweet and pretty-"

"oh, so pretty privilege?"

"no! no, of course not!"

"well, um," you wrap your arms around his neck, "thank you for trusting me. i won't tell anyone."

"cool."

"cool."

his hands are on your hips, and he's leaning in, but you pull away, smirking.

"no kissing until the second date, i'm afraid."

"we're going on dates?"

"if you don't want me to broadcast to the world, yes."

"well, i would've asked to take you anyways."

you smile at him, enjoying the moment.

"wait, are those cameras?" there's absolute panic in his voice, and you giggle.

"those are fake. it's cardboard to scare people off."

"oh. cool."

"cool."

you end up kissing him anyways.

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