#it meant letting go of the one person he ever loved

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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[fic-dumpster]

immiscible

Pairing: Cat hybrid!Sanzu x Hamster hybrid!Reader

Summary: You were not meant to be. Everything pointed to a disastrous outcome, but Haruchiyo Sanzu refused to let something as dumb as biology dictate his life. He wanted you and that was final.

CW: Hybrid AU, dubcon, PiV, oral (female receiving), mean Sanzu, possessiveness, typical cat behavior. Idk… lmk if I missed anything. Not edited and no beta.

Word count: 2.2K+

A.N: funny how this was inspired by Hamtaro and the pink panther. A very… unexpected crossover.

“Haru, stop bothering her!” Mikey’s voice boomed through the room for the third time.

You were hiding, again, under Mikey’s covers, attempting to stay as far away as possible from Sanzu who hadn’t been as welcoming as you were promised. You were told a good time awaited, but your current situation was not your definition of a good time.

Emma, Mikey’s sister and your owner, had to leave for a trip with her boyfriend and they left you under her brother’s care. You were against the idea, adamant about it. You cried and begged to be left alone or any other person available would do. But alas, nobody seemed to be able to besides Mikey.

Knowing the pink cat hybrid living under Mikey’s care was an ass, you knew It was a terrible idea. You were a rodent for crying out loud. A hamster hybrid. It was like trying to mix water and oil… an impossible task, and they expected you to share a living space with them for who knows how long.

Yes, you have been in Mikey’s place for less than four days and your life has been in danger more times than you can count.

Sanzu, the feline menace of this house, seemed to find joy in your little squeaks and chubby cheeks puffing even more every time he pawed at you; sending you back and forth to his entertainment. He was just doing that a second ago until you managed to escape and made a run for Mikey’s bed.

“Haru, let her go.” Mikey warned him with a stern voice, “she doesn’t like your games.”

Little did he know those weren’t just games for Sanzu. While you thought he wanted nothing more than to make a snack out of you, he had a whole other plan in mind.

Your small and round face peeked from under the covers and you instantly regretted your decision. Right there, looking straight at you with a wicked grin, was Sanzu. His green emerald eyes shined with mischief as he saw the scared look on your face.

“Ple-please, Haru… I-I do-don’t wanna play…” you stammered. Your heart beating wildly as you scurried deeper into the bed and away from the border where a crazed hybrid stood.

Have you ever tried to make a cat let go of his prey? Hardest thing to accomplish. Mikey knew that, but he also believed in his pet. Overall, Sanzu was harmless, according to Mikey. So when the only human in the room heard his pet hybrid promise to be civil. Well, Mikey believed him.

“I won’t do that again, I promise.”

To his credit, Sanzu didn’t chase you around anymore. There was no reason to run after something that was under his paw.

The first week passed by in a flash and you learned a few things. One of them was how Sanzu loved to see your attempts of scrambling away from him, whining every time he pulled your short puffy tail or yanked your whiskers. You saw the gratification on his face.

He would not leave you alone. So much so that he even gathered your things from the guest room and moved them to his. Mikey allowed such idea; believing in Sanzu’s excuse about hybrid bonding time or something.

Before bed, the cat hybrid would yank you against his warm body, wrap himself around you and nibble on your round ears; every time before bed it was the same, almost like a night routine. You would tremble under his arms, scared of becoming dinner if you made a wrong move.

Things got heated in the third week. Almost a month in and you had your fair share of questions about Sanzu’s behavior. He began to pin you down more often; growling and rubbing himself all over you. Grooming your neck and cheeks, for then to stay in that position for a while. Inhaling your scent and humming and purring in contempt.

Mikey just thought you two were finally getting along well and ignored whenever Sanzu dragged you into his room.

“Yeah, Emma. She’s doing fine. Haru is good company.” Mikey would always speak with reassuring words to his sister. Not lying, just telling his truth. “No need to take her to Takashi’s.”

As the phone conversation went on, in a different room your silent whines told a different story. The spiked tongue of Sanzu’s kept licking your skin, leaving it tender afterward.

“Heard that? You’re not going anywhere,” Sanzu rasped against your twitching ears.

The cat hybrid was ecstatic when he first heard the news from Mikey. You, the fragile little rodent, were going to stay with him? His prayers had been answered.

Sanzu couldn’t help himself, you were just too pretty for your own good. All shy and sweet with everyone else but him. You were a trembling mess whenever he prowled around you, his tail swiftly moving around your hips and legs got you squirming in place. He loved the special treatment you gave him.

The pink menace had begun to behave even weirder lately. Headbutts here and there, making biscuits on your tummy and chest which left you all hot and bothered, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. All smiles and hugs as your mind went from zero to a hundred in seconds. It all left you confused and dizzy at the end of the day.

For things to make sense something had to happen, right? Because such… affectionate behavior wasn’t normal. Well, a few days later when Mikey left to hang out with some friends; it did happen.

You heard a strange sound coming from Sanzu’s room. It was a very loud meowing, almost raw and it seemed painful; and as afraid of him as you were, you couldn’t just leave your only housemate alone if he was in pain.

With shaky steps, ears tuned in to the yowling, you made your way to his room. Stopping at the door, you saw your things still scattered around, but now a bunch of pillows and blankets also shared the space. As your eyes roamed through the room you finally spotted Sanzu. He was a sweating mess—pink hair sticking to his face, wild eyes unblinking and his face contorted in pain.

“Ha-haru? Are you ok—” But before you could say one more word, a strong scent invaded your nostrils.

It hit you with so much force that your eyes watered instantly. The smell was sweet; earthy and cinnamon-like but oh, so suffocating. You gagged and coughed at the burning sensation in your throat.

Suddenly, everything began to spin, but before your knees could hit the ground, you were swept off your feet. The sickly sweet smell surrounding you in waves—enveloping you whole. “S-stop! I ca-can’t brea-breath!”

“I knew you would come,” cooed Sanzu, completely ignoring your pleas.

He had you in his arms, carrying you towards the improvised nest made of blankets. Your body shivered, rejecting the aroma of a different hybrid. It was clear—compatibility? Null. Even your body’s biology refused to accept the idea of it.

Before you could gather your thoughts, you were being dropped on a soft surface and still, the potent scent kept mingling all your senses. Just as fast, he was on top of you; holding your hands above your head and leaning forward with his whole weight pressing down on you.

“You look so pretty… underneath me,” Sanzu sharply whispered against your temple. Nose caressing the border of your face as it traveled to your lips.

Nudging your legs apart with his knees, he nestled himself between them. Slowly but steadily grinding his hips against your clothed core. “You did this, you know? You made me go into heat, you little minx.”

“No! I didn’t know– didn’t mean to!” You whimpered—lips to lips, sharing the same air.

A whirlwind of thoughts passed through your mind. Guilt, fear, anger and… surprisingly lust. The more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body reacted. Your legs fastening around his waist, pulling Sanzu even closer which made the feline purr louder as your little squeaks mixed in between.

You felt the weight of his body—of his clothed cock constantly pressing on your entrance, humping, just rutting in place. Wetness had begun to creep in between your clothes

“We can’t do this, Ha-Haru…”

“You want me to stop?” Sanzu asked with clenched teeth but you shaked your head in denial, “Good, because I don’t think I would be able to…”

The feline eagerly pawed your clothes off, feeling a surge of giddiness born in his stomach. He was so close to you, he was finally touching every single part of you. Sanzu could practically taste the air charged with your arousal.

“You need me here,” he purred, lithe fingers dancing around your gushing entrance. “I’ll have a quick taste and you’re gonna be good and let me.”

Not soon had you felt his hands let go, ignoring his previous words, you tried to scramble away. On your hands and knees, you made a big mistake. Sanzu felt your cotton-like tail hit him in the face and it just made him latch onto you even harder. His hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you back and at the same time wrangling you back into your last position just to directly smash his face against your cunt.

A hollow scream erupted from your raw throat once you felt his tongue practically forcing its way in. His fingers digging into your skin, the force of his sucking lips and never had his tongue stopped moving inside you. You were ashamed to admit he felt too good, your bucking hips constantly hitting him but Sanzu didn't even notice. Too focused, too drunk on your hypnotic flavor.

A straight lick later and a moan of satisfaction from the pink feline had you in almost tears. “You were already wet enough, but I couldn't help myself. You’ve made me… a voracious beast.”

You felt his fingers open your lower lips, heat radiating from your center smearing his digits. You don't know when or how he discarded his own clothes but as your eyes refocused, you saw his skin almost glowing, radiating scorching warmth on top of you. Unhurriedly, Sanzu guided his cock inside, stretching your opening to mold him, to take him. You were so soft, so warm that it almost hurt with how sensitive his tip was.

“I promise to—fuck… aah— mount you properly next time,” he growled at the thought of having you—ass up squeaking for him again, “but I need to see your cute face right now.”

Sanzu hissed at the contact and gave a final push of his hips; entering you with force. In return, your face contorted at the intrusion, you were a squealing mess under him. The sudden action wasn’t as pleasant as the previous activity. Your insides burned as your walls tried to push the foreign object out. But Sanzu persisted, holding you in place as he slowly retracted and moved back in. Inch by inch of his cock with no hurry.

He repeated this action until he felt almost no restraint on your part. Your cute little cunt had finally gotten used to him. He went in and out smoothly and your sounds had changed to mewls and puffs of air—full of need. Your hands traveled from his chest to his shoulders, no longer trying to stop him. On the contrary, you were pulling him in, scraping his neck with a sudden need to have him closer.

The feline purred loudly as he absorbed the change in your demeanor. Your half-lidded eyes were calling to him. His words failed him, he couldn’t even tell you how good you felt. All that left his lips were groans and beastly sounds.

“Fa-faster, Haru!” You moaned out without shame. Gone was the timid little rodent.

His chest reverberated once again, an instant answer to your plea. His tail moving wildly behind him, his ear twitching at the sound of your voice. All his body automatically responded to your calling.

His hips hitting you with abandon. Your pussy lips are swollen from the constant friction.

“M-mine.” He heaved with furrowed brows; fingers gripping tightly at your soft and plush skin.

Sanzu wasn’t even sure he was speaking out loud, too lost in the overwhelming feeling of finally being buried deep in your heat. Nothing could take him away from you.

─────── · · ·

“Get your furry fiend away from her!” Emma was a red from rage, “Manjiro Sano! I am serious!

“He doesn't wanna let go!” Mikey looked over at his friend, Emma’s boyfriend, for help, “Ken-Chin, tell her!”

Meanwhile, Sanzu with flattened ears and a swatting tail had you under his body; hissing menacingly at the three humans trying to take away his mate.

Of course, you had tried to explain but your meek voice wasn't heard in the middle of all the shouting.

[starlightsigner]

Iced Avocado AU

coffee shop/alternate ending to Sonic 3 (movie spoilers) Shadow will find Sonic coffee in every universe <3

Two years after the end of movie 3 Shadow comes to Green Hills to fulfill Eggman's dying wish, deliver a message to Stone, who took up running the Mean Bean again

With no real plan or place to go after the message is delivered, Stone adopts offers Shadow a place and a job until he decides what he'd like to do next with his life

Taking him up on his offer, Shadow becomes Green Hills' newest barista

News travels fast in a small town and it doesn't take long for the Wachowski's to hear about who just moved into town

At first Sonic is just glad to know Shadow is alive, but he knows they could be friends if Shadow could just learn to chill and act his age -50 years

Shadow just knows that Maria loved life. She talked about the good in people and the joy of living. He hadn't seen much of it yet, and he didn't think he was going to see much of it in this small town, but his stay is just temporary. It doesn't matter that the people here aren't afraid of him, that the doctor's lovesick assistant treats him well, or that he's free to come and go and just BE as he pleases. He'll be gone sooner rather than later

If anything Shadow is starting to think that the longer he stays in Green Hills the worse off he may be. He thought Sonic's dad had forgiven him for the mistaken identity thing, but the more he hangs around the Wachowski home he cant help but feel his spines stand on end a bit when it's just the two of them. Not only that, but he's beginning to think this fresh mountain air is having negative side effects on him, why else would his heart start skipping beats whenever he sees streaks of blue?

Prologue

As the reactor core rapidly destabilizes Eggman knows he's out of time to tell the one person in the world who ever cared about him what his companionship meant to him, but as he prepares to go live he realizes the signal is to scrambled to even send out an audio file

Refusing to let his last words go unheard, he gives the file to Shadow, mumbling about how as improbable Shadow's survival would be he's come to realize how annoyingly resilient hedgehogs seem to be

After watching the Eclipse Cannon explode out of range of Earth's atmosphere, Stone sits in the streets of London, looking at another situation that no person could possibly survive. The last time he knew for sure the doctor would come back, this time he refused to acknowledge the part of himself that wasn't so sure.

What he did know for certain is that even though he'd been fired, he hadn't been cloned yet, and as long as he was Doctor Robotnik's assistant he would be sure that there would be an evil lair and a latte waiting for him when he returned

Meanwhile in an unknown corner of the world, Shadow pulls himself out of an impact crater, taking a moment to finally breathe before tracking down a man he barley knows on a planet that even 50 years later he knows even less

Two years later Stone's life is the closest to normal its been since before he joined Gun. Not everyone trusts him and most people still call him the 'weird bean guy' but that doesn't stop any of them from coming in daily or making the Mean Bean the top rated coffee shop on Yelp this side of Montana. It's only a matter of time before Cuppa Heaven falls to the Mean Bean's superiority, then the whole state will be his

While cleaning behind the counter after closing the locked front door rattles as someone tries to force it open. Stone calls out that they're closed and they can come back in the morning (he's got a date with a telenovela). The rattling stops and he goes back to cleaning his equipment

The cup that he was holding falls to the ground with a clang that's completely drowned out by Stone's shriek as a hooded figure teleports beside him

Before Stone can react Shadow removes his hood, complaining about how long his ears will be hurting from that

At first Stone is excited, if Shadow survived then surely the doctor could have as well! Finally a sign that he could be alright

But alas, not everyone can come back like in a soap opera

After receiving the doctor’s message Stone walks over to a table and pulls out a chair, absentmindedly also pulling one out for his guest

He starts musing about how the Mean Bean is where he set up operations to wait for the doctor to return after his last ‘hedgehog induced sabbatical’ so it felt fitting for him to come back here to wait out this one

Shadow asks what he means by wait it out, the doctor is dead. Stone just chuckles and slowly shakes his head, telling Shadow he'd be surprised to hear all of the impossible things the doctor had lived through, this was just the latest

Shadow eventually takes the empty chair next to Stone. He knows that the doctor is dead, he’s sure that Stone knows this even if he wont admit it, but he also can’t help but envy him. The doctor didn’t die right in front of him, he didn’t see the body. Even if the odds are a million to one, there’s a single drop of hope in an ocean of despair, and Stone has refused to let it be swallowed by the sea. As long as there’s a chance of ‘what if’

After a time Stone thanks Shadow for bringing the message to him and gets up to make him a latte as thanks, Shadow lets him know he'd prefer it black

As he works on the coffee he asks Shadow what he's been up to the past two years, about all it boiled down to was him looking for Stone. With no leads, little knowledge about Earth, and a need to stay out of sight, things went far slower then he was happy with

Well, what are you gona do now?

What indeed. Eventually Shadow looks down at his hands and admits that he doesn’t know. He had been so driven by revenge and then by the need to fulfill Eggman's last request (almost as if it were the start of some sort of penitence) that he never really took the time to figure that out. Without a goal, he’s found himself bereft of purpose

Stone stops to take a good look at the lost kid sitting across from him, maybe the doctor had sent him more than just a message

He offers Shadow a job at the Mean Bean, saying that Green Hills is a nice enough town and that while he’s more than able to run the place on his own it can get busy, humble brag but he had the best Yelp reviews for miles for a reason. + maybe a delivery service is what he needs to get the edge over Cuppa Heaven

He tells Shadow that he can think on it if he wants and he's free to hang around until he makes up his mind

Shadow scoffs at him, he's been fine on his own he doesn't need anyone's pity

Stone hands over the coffee before picking up the forgotten cup on the floor, cleaning it again. He tells shadow it's not pity, just an offer from one former coworker to another. A temporary arrangement that could benefit them both while Shadow takes whatever time he needs to decide what his next step will be

Shadow stares into his coffee for a time, Stone cant tell if he's looking for life's answers or if it owes him money

Eventually Shadow drinks and looks to Stone with conviction, agreeing to his proposal. He vows to do his best to serve this place that is to be his temporary home and master the ‘art of the mean bean’

Stone laughs at how serious he is as he puts everything away. He says that they’re gona have to work on getting Shadow to loosen up a bit if he’s gona serve customers

Shadow tenses at that. Asking Stone what he means, surely he can’t suggest that Shadow will be interacting with humans

Stone points out that that’s kind of a big part of being a barista, is that a problem?

Looking to the side trying not to appear apprehensive (boy needs acting lessons), Shadow brings up the fact that he’s very clearly a 'dangerous alien' won’t the people be frightened of him?

It clicks for Stone what he means and he smiles, walking over to Shadow and placing a hand on his shoulder, motioning with his head for him to follow

He tells Shadow not to worry about that, Green Hills is the one place on Earth where a new alien hedgehog will only be the talk of the town for a week or so before the next farmers market drama takes over as peak gossip

After a beat Shadow registers exactly what Stone just said “wait, what do you mean a NEW alien hedgehog?!”

Grinning as he walks away, Stone activates the Mean Bean’s ‘back room’ walking forward while saying that they’ll do a quick tour of the lair and get Shadow settled in

Stone thinks to himself that instead of ending the day with eating his feelings away with a tub of ice cream while watching soap operas, it might be nicer to watch Gabriella's long lost niece backstab (possibly literally if the preview was right) Juan with a new friend. He should make guac. Celebration guac.

Staring

Shadow, the ultimate barista

(no first name given) Stone, a man who is unprepared to be a single father to a Hot Topic wannabe

Sonic, guy who's cool until he starts trying to flirt (or the guy who would be on every sports team if he went to school)

Miles 'Tails' Prower, the youngest fox to illegally attend MIT online

Knuckles, volunteer youth camp counselor

Tom Wachowski, promised he wasn't going to intimidate his son's new boyfriend (he lied, but he's only about 40% successful anyway)

Maddie Wachowski, mom of the year 5 years running

[ink-stainedkiss]

This isn't necessarily a request (unless you like the idea😍) but i am WEAK for saiki kusuo being happy and laughing, as ooc as it sounds IDC HES MY BABY AND HES HUMAN THEREOFRE I CONCLUDE THIS BOY CAN HAVE HIS DAILY DOSE OF GIGGLES.

Like, i read the fic you made on saiki finding readers thoughts funny, and i BAJDJSJAJDBS I SQUEALED.

Just imagining him breaking character, or AUDIBLY laughing, is so so sweet bro im not even joking. He'd only ever be comfortable doing it infront of his mom probably, or his close friends. EVEN SO.

Just needed to get it off my chest. 🙂 if you ever make more fics with happy/giggly saiki i might actually marry you. 🙂🙂🙂

This one goes specifically to you queen😍 and No. I’m going to marry you🫵😼

Missing You

Synopsis: Saiki starts to feel a bit weird when you are out and he realizes he misses you. Now to find a way to get you home faster…

Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! I hope you all had a great time because I sure did. Sorry my activity has been a little slow these past days have been busier than expected, so this one’s going to be a bit short. Also thank you all for the likes on my later posts! It feels so amazing to see you guys enjoying my other works. Anyways, please enjoy this tooth-rotting fluff of our beloved Saiki💕

“You on the phone”

“Saiki on the phone”

*Saiki is wearing his telepathy blocking ring in this, so he's speaking normally*

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.2k

Everyone knew that Saiki was not a dependent person. He was the furthest thing from it. He loved his alone time- actually scratch that. He craved alone time. It was just his luck that he was always surrounded by people that caused him so much mental pain. To Saiki’s surprise, he had found someone he tolerated. Well it was more than that, but you guys were just friends, so he couldn’t say anything. He realized you were the only one that didn’t put Saiki through a problem which he had to solve. There were no long adventures when you talked to him in the halls. No using his powers to fix something you had done. He was able to act perfectly normal around you. Which is why he grew such an affection toward you. He grew so comfortable that he told you about his abilities and like he expected you took it well.

Today was one of his favorite days. Where he was able to hang around your home without a care in the world. Whatever his friends were up to outside of your house was not Saiki’s business, nor did he care about it. He had developed a routine when you text him to come over. He would arrive at your house, wear his germanium ring and let his worries wash away. It was the closest thing he could get to being a normal teenager and he was damn sure going to use his time wisely. Whenever Saiki stayed at your home, you would ask to do something, nothing crazy. Something simple like baking a batch of cookies, watching a movie on the couch, or if you were very bored, you would ask to do Saiki’s hair, which he never denied. Because, well, it was you. How could he say no?

Today was a bit different. You had mentioned you needed to run some errands and you promised you would back around noon. Saiki was fine with this since it meant he would have the house to himself. You trusted him greatly so you didn’t mind if he stuck around while you were out. When you left he gave a small nod and then the house was silent. Today was very different because something felt off. He had been reading a book on your shelf out of interest, but for the past five minutes, he had been rereading the same sentence over and over. Something was tugging in his head, but he wasn’t sure what was wrong.

Today was different because he felt so off without you in the same room as him. He checked the clock, realizing I had only been an hour and a half since you left. You wouldn’t be back until later, so Saiki had to find something to distract himself. Today was different because tried to cure his “boredom” with his powers. He turned on your kitchen sink, watching blankly as he made shapes and animals out of the liquid. When that didn’t stop the tugging, he moved onto your room. He felt slightly better resting on your bed and he played it off as being tired, but no. When he kept checking the clock to see if it was any closer to noon, he came to the horrifying conclusion that he missed you.

It was such a foreign feeling. Saiki? Wanting someone to be around him? Well that’s what happens when you sneak your way into his heart. The psychic couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed his phone, clicking on your contact and placing the device to his ear. The small buzzing reached his ear and he felt a small fragment of relief when you answered after the second ring.

“Hey Saiki, what’s up?”

He sighed, a bit humiliated he felt this way.

“Nothing.”

“Then did you need something?”

“When are you going to be home?”

He said home like he lived here with you, but if you minded, you didn’t make it obvious.

“I should be there in maybe three hours.”

That did not help.

“Can you get here sooner?”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Yes.”

Might as well since there isn’t anything else getting you here faster. Saiki thought.

A small gasp sounded through the speaker, “I thought you said nothing was happening?”

“Just get here fast.”

And with that he hung up the phone.

—

You raced to your house, hoping you wouldn’t find it in ashes or hit by a tornado. Maybe you were being dramatic, but why would Saiki call you and tell you to come home quickly? It was shocking that you didn’t get pulled over at the pace you were driving home. When you pulled onto your street, you were thankful to not see any smoke, but that didn’t make you slow down. You slammed to a stop in your driveway, panic flooding your veins. You unlocked your door at lightning speed and the second it was open, you called out,”I’m here! What happened?!”

You shut the door behind you, scanning for some sort of danger, but you find your house was still intact. You were so confused. You were expecting some sort of freak accident with Saiki’s powers, but everything was in place.

“Nothing wrong.”

You whipped around, finding Saiki had teleported behind you. You blinked in confusion,”What are you talking about? You told me to get here quick and I-“ “I lied.” Your arms dropped at your side in defeat,”Then why am I here right now?” He gave you an emotionless stare,”Because I wanted you to be.”

Still in shock, you looked around, finding a scattered book on your couch. It was odd because Saiki is always the one to be neat. You turned to the boy, noticing how he was hardly making eye contact with you and he clearly wanted to say more. You recalled his words over the phone, then it all clicked.

“Saiki,” your words were barely above a whisper,”Did you miss me?”

The things that happened next were a blur. In the blink of an eye two arms were wrapping around you and you could feel Saiki’s head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t respond to your question, but this was enough to answer it. Honestly, you were a bit nervous. Was this really the same Saiki? The one who barely let people stand close to him, was holding onto you like a lifeline. You felt a long sigh escape his lips and instinctively you reached one hand up to rest in his pink hair and the other embracing him over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know how else to get you here.” He confessed gently, making your heart melt,”You could have just asked, Kusuo.” He tucked himself more into your neck, almost hiding his face from you,”But you were busy.” You rolled your eyes, “It was just getting groceries, I would have dropped everything if I knew you wanted me here.”

Saiki didn’t know how to respond, instead he used his teleportation to take you both to your room. You let out a grunt as you back hit your mattress, but your attention changed to the boy resting on you. He looked so at peace and you couldn’t believe this was still the same person. (It’s not like you were complaining.) As you softly played with his pink hair, a small idea popped into your head. Maybe I should go out more often if this is what I get to come home too…

[gibberishfangirl]

WINDBREAKER | twinzies

Synopsis ✰ being a couple consists of matching doesn’t it?

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Toma Hiragi, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw!, established relationship, matching accessories/items, teasing, couple goals tbh, fluff, literally just cutest couple stuff

when matching with Sakura ᡣ𐭩 it had to be kept simple and light. if you suggested anything too much or something too obvious he might have a heart attack. in all honesty the fact that you two had matching phone charms didn’t even register all that much in his head. he’d notice a cute mini miffy charm that you had connected to your phone and stare at it. he wouldn’t even realize the amount of the times you caught him looking at it. you thought it was cute to see your boyfriend be intrigued by the same things you liked. it inspired you to get him the same one you had for his. you surprised him with it and he’d blush while saying “thanks… whyd you get me one?” “no reason, just thought it would look cute on your phone too.” your smile would make him even more flustered as he was quick to put it on. a few days went past and sakura was slightly memorized by the gift, he’d play with it when he had free time or spend him time just looking at it. one time when he was fidgeting with it Nirei distracted him by saying “hey that’s a cute phone charm sakura! doesn’t your girlfriend have the same one?” “oh yeah… she does.” another blush was found creeping up his face as he realized you two have the same exact charm.

Umemiya ᡣ𐭩 wasn’t by any means a shy guy so whenever it came to matching or expressing any sort of affection he had no issue with it. he would want to do anything that would make you happy and he also liked the idea of showing off your relationship even more. you were all his and he’d let the entire world know if he could. no amount of teasing or comments could ever make him retract his feelings. even if it meant the teasing would leak into his meetings and personal conversations. “you’re not a dog y’know, wearing a chain with their name on it? just buy yourself a collar at that point.” Hiragi would tease, not meaning his words but just trying to get a reaction out of Ume. not that it worked, Ume knew exactly what he was trying to do. “no need to be so bitter Hiragi, i still care about you. don’t feel like you’re getting replaced.” Ume would pat Hiragi’s back sympathetically as if he were consoling him to which Hiragi would just roll his eyes at. it was impossible to make Ume feel any ounce of shame. especially when it was about his personal relationship with you.

when you mentioned matching couple’s clothing Suo ᡣ𐭩 was a bit caught off guard. not that he was against it by any means, it’s just that he didn’t think you’d be the type to suggest it. the matching essence was more minimalist than anything since the two of you would coordinate the outfits to go together. you two would have matching shoes and simple jewelry. you would wear a black skirt while he wore black pants and then have matching colored shirts (different styles, same color). anyone who saw you two apart wouldn’t assume you’d have a matching twin but it made sense whenever you two were reunited. you loved to do this whenever the two of you went on dates and Suo loved the way your eyes lit up when you planned out the outfits. it was a win win situation for everyone. most people would compliment your outfits or stare in awe at how adorable the two of you were. even if the date was interrupted by running into some of his friends it would still be fun. All of them would typically compliment the two of you and comment on how well you two look together. Sakura was a bit more on the shy side so he would blush at the sight of your relationship in general. he might have to stop staring at you guys after realizing that you’re matching, the cuteness would be too much of him. he would secretly wish he had someone to do that with.

it was Nirei ᡣ𐭩‘s idea to match. not that it was surprising to hear that he wanted to have matching accessories. he absolutely adores you and it’s hard for him to purchase only one thing for himself when he knows you would also love it just as much. he was for sure a little cheesy with some of the accessories such as the matching necklaces that were a heart and a key. SO CHEESY AND CLICHE but you can’t bring yourself to even cringe at the sweet boy as he was excited to show you it. you eventually settled with the heart while he got the key. you know since he had the key to your heart. pained you to stay out loud but his bright smile made it worth it. he literally never takes it off he doesn’t even bother to shove the necklace into his shirt he always has it out on display. the necklaces were actually somewhat subtle whenever the two of you were apart but whenever anyone saw the two of you it finally made sense. you could never tell your sweet boy no whenever he brought something new and cheesy to match. …even if it meant wearing ridiculous tee shirts.

honestly… Hiragi ᡣ𐭩 didn’t see the point in matching. not that he’d ever say that out loud. he does whatever you want but he genuinely didn’t understand why couples would match or what it’s supposed to signify… if it even has a meaning? he definitely isn’t too experienced in the dating department let alone in a relationship that actually shows a lot of affection. no matter how silly the item was or how out of character it was in comparison to him he would never reject any gift of yours. he also sure as hell would never even let anyone dare to make a funny comment about it either. especially not in front of you. he most likely has hit the boys a couple of times for trying to tease him about it in front of you. they would quickly get shut down by catching an elbow to their gut. nonetheless, as much as he tried to avoid it from happening he caught himself also starting to like the concept of it little by little as the days went on.

matching with Kiryu ᡣ𐭩 had a more sentimental effect to it. especially since you two were quite picky about it. it wasn’t something you two did often or really planned out. that’s what made the matching heart lockets you got on your anniversary so special. when you opened them up they were customized with a special message you two secretly made for one another on one side and the other side had a photo. Kiryu was a romantic he couldn’t help fidgeting with the locket in his spare time and glancing at the photo of you in it every couple hours. your cheesy smile in it would bring a subtle blush to his cheeks and he would remember the exact moment he first had taken that photo. not to mention it was a huge pick me up booster whenever he felt the tiniest bit down. all he had to do was look in his locket and he would find the motivation to go on with his day with ease.

Togame ᡣ𐭩 found it cute whenever he noticed you begun to copy his style. he found it funny how you began to look like a mini him by stealing his hoodies and shirts. soon enough he started to learn more about what looks good on you and flatters you. he loves how you look in the oversized streetwear style, he thinks you look cool but will never say it to your face in order to keep you humbled. last thing he wants is for your ego to skyrocket and for you to rub it in his face that you look better in his style than he does. even though he knows it’s the truth. anyway if you really think about it, you only look cool because you’re wearing his stuff so he should take the credit for it. however, now whenever he shops he tends to buy two of the same item since he can’t help but imagine how much cooler you’d look with him on your side. so in the end matching was technically his idea and you never caught on to the fact that you two were matching a lot until you started to receive compliments about how cute it was.

matching with Choji ᡣ𐭩 was subtle in a way that no one really even knows or realizes the two of you have matching items. the only ones who know about it are you two and you both don’t mind that. you both have matching items such as plushies, random items, or room decor. you both had a lot of the same interests and would accidentally buy each other the same items for the holidays or as gifts. it was funny as it was never intentional. there were so many times where the two of you would purchase something for one another and had to fight back the urge to keep it for yourself. only to find out that the other got you the exact same thing anyway. you both know each other so well sometimes it felt like you were the same person. it’s surprising how no one has even noticed that you two constantly wear the exact same pair of headphones everyday. yes. you both gifted each other the same style headphones in the exact same color.

[xoln04f1xo]

In the Driver's Seat - CL16

Suggestive

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Reader

WC: 695

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Y/N had always admired Formula 1, enchanted by the symphony of roaring engines and the precision of the world’s finest drivers. But nothing could have prepared her for Charles Leclerc. The man whose passion burned as brightly off the track as it did on track.

It started innocently enough, a chance meeting in the paddock. Y/N, an aspiring journalist, had scored a rare interview with Ferrari’s golden boy. Charles, charming as ever, had a magnetic presence that made it impossible to focus on anything else. His eyes lingered a little too long when she asked her questions, his lips curving into a smile that seemed meant just for her.

“Do you always ask such dangerous questions?” he teased, leaning back in his chair, the red of his Ferrari shirt clinging to his form.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat. “Only when I want honest answers.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Then you should know, I’ve never been great at playing it safe.”

----

The interview concluded, but the moment lingered. Y/N replayed their exchange in her mind, convincing herself it was all in her head. Until later that evening, when a message pinged on her phone:

Charles Leclerc: I hope you’re free tonight. Monaco has much more to offer than the paddock. Let me show you.

Her heart raced as she read the message. It felt reckless, accepting an invitation from someone she barely knew. But something about Charles, the confidence in his tone, the way he looked at her as if she was the only person in the room, was impossible to ignore.

She typed back a quick response, her fingers trembling slightly.

Y/N: Alright. Where should I meet you?

----

The night air in Monaco was electric, the city alive with its usual blend of glamour and excitement. Charles picked her up in a sleek black car that looked almost too perfect to touch. As he drove, the gentle hum of the engine filled the silence between them, though the tension was anything but quiet.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, glancing at him. He smirked, his eyes flicking to her briefly before returning to the road. “You’ll see. Trust me.” She did, though she couldn’t explain why.

The car stopped at a secluded cliffside overlooking the city. The view was breath-taking. Monaco’s glittering lights reflecting off the sea, the sound of distant waves crashing below. Charles stepped out and opened her door, extending a hand to help her.

“You bring all your interviews here?” she joked, trying to steady her nerves. “Only the ones who leave an impression,” he replied smoothly, his voice carrying the faintest edge of mischief.

They talked for what felt like hours, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Y/N learned that beneath the fame and the pressure, Charles was disarmingly down-to-earth, his passion for racing matched only by his love for his home.

As the night deepened, their laughter gave way to silence. The air between them shifted, charged with an unspoken energy. Charles took a step closer, his gaze intense.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come tonight,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And miss out on this view?” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly. “I’m not talking about the view,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers.

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both tentative and consuming. The world seemed to disappear, the distant sounds of the city, the wind rushing past them, everything faded until there was only him.

When they pulled apart, Y/N searched his face, her heart pounding. “Charles… this is crazy.”

“I know,” he whispered, a small smile playing at his lips. “But sometimes, the craziest things are the ones worth taking a chance on.”

The night didn’t end there, nor did their connection. What started as an unexpected encounter quickly grew into something neither of them had anticipated. Charles might have been in the driver’s seat on the track, but with Y/N, he’d found something far more thrilling than any race. A chance to let go and risk it all.

For once, neither of them played it safe.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

[tonymystarks]

Deadpool x Wolverine ficlet

So I was watching deadpool 3 last night for the 9th time, and I could not get this idea out of my head. They hold hands, they think about the other person, and I tear up a little bit. Anyway, I wrote about what they might have been thinking about.

Enjoy!!!

(I might write about what happens after, if the inspiration continues because i love when emotionally repressed men don't about their feelings)

~~~~~~

Logan

The first thing he thought of was Wade. They had spent so little time together, but it had changed his life. Wade was the first person in a very long time to believe in him and see that he could be more than he was. It made him want to be worth the educated wish that Deadpool had made.

Logan could hear Wade’s voice in his head as they held hands, fighting to save the multiverse and turn to atoms. He could hear Wade saying the Wolverine in his world was a hero, which meant something. For some unknown reason, Logan wanted to be that hero for Wade. If asked, he would say that he wanted to go into that chamber because he had nothing to lose, and Wade had everything; he had a whole world. Yet, truthfully, and not that he would admit it out loud, he couldn’t stand the thought of not being Wade’s hero.

He needed to be his hero.

He didn’t really have time to unpack what that meant, considering the circumstance they were currently facing—one he wished Wade wasn’t a part of—but life had shown him time and time again that you don’t get what you want. Often, you get a fire extinguisher to the face and are faced with losing the only person you’ve felt a genuine connection to in a long time.

Cassandra had shown him what she could do if he stayed in the void, be the animal everyone thought he was. She could silence the voices.

Wade had shown him what he could do if he were just better. He didn’t have to be perfect, but he could be better. And it was hard to hear the voices with the stream-of-consciousness that asshole had running.

Logan looked at Wade, who was looking back at him, and thought this couldn’t be it. This is only the start. He wasn’t quite sure of what it was the start of, but he wanted time. He wanted the time to earn the suit that he had just destroyed, to be what Charles knew he could be or what Wade thought he could be.

He turned his head, took as deep a breath as he could, and let out a roar that had been stuck inside him. He tried to be the best Wolverine he could be, and deep inside him, though he was unlikely ever to admit it out loud, it was for Wade.

Wade

The first thing that he thought of was Vanessa. Stunning, kind and crazy Vanessa. He wanted to see her again, wanted her to know that he had tried to do right by her. That he wanted to save the universe, the multiverse, for her. She was a light in the dark, shit-filled existence of his life. She made him want to be a better man.

Wade thought of her and his family and all the ways that he had fucked up and all the ways that he wanted to be better. He had been told more times than he cared to admit that he wasn’t the world-saving type; he wasn’t a hero. Fuck, he had owned that, never wanting to be in the first place. But here he was, heroing, with a person he never thought he would meet.

That's when his thoughts turned.

See, Wade’s first thoughts were of Vanessa, but his last thoughts were of Logan.

The man that had put his head to the barrel of his gun and held it there while he drank, making Wade’s heart flutter. The man that could go toe-to-toe with him and smile with blood in his mouth while doing it. The man that had, in the end, accepted his educated wish.

Wade saw something in him, saw a future in him.

He could see that the little Peanut was broken and alone, which Wade had experienced throughout his life. While on the outside (and partially on the inside), they were so vastly different, Wade couldn’t help but think that maybe their crazies might match, too.

When that came along, it wasn’t something that Wade wanted to let go of. He grasped the Wolverine’s hand tighter as Like A Prayer played around them and thought that maybe this wasn’t the end; maybe they would get more time. Looking at Logan, he truly saw an X-Man, the X-Man, maybe, just maybe, his X-Man.

Here was 2008’s sexiest man alive, willing to lay down his life for the fate of a universe that he was not a part of after being lied to by God’s perfect idiot, and that really told Wade everything that he needed to know.

He locked eyes with Logan for a brief moment and thought to himself that if they were to avoid the gruesome end described to them by the TVA asshole that got head fucked by Cassandra, Wade would keep Logan.

He turned his head away, keeping the thought of his wonderful honey badger in his mind, and he put in the maximum effort.

[angel-of-the-moons]

The Mitzvah Moose

Moon Boys x Mom!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff. Just pure fluff.

A/N: This was meant to be for Christmas, I'm sorry. Dad wound up in the hospital again and I messed up my back once again. Beginning to wonder if I have scoliosis like my mom. But anyway, this little rinkydink idea came to me when i saw this little fella at Walmart in the Christmas aisle!

Taglist: @hotmessmageereads @traash-ratt @ingoldthewizard @mooksmouse @nikkivenomized @honey-bee2002

It was Christmas Eve; and you were looking for a few decorations to add a bit more... festive spirit to your lovely little home last-minute.

You tutted under your breath when you saw the price on this adorable little snow globe; it had a caribou and a pretty little cardinal surrounding a ballerina, the cheerful tune that played when you wound it up was a personal favorite--"Dance of The Sugarplum Fairy". Ugh, why was it so expensive? Honestly, you don't know why--

"Mommy!" Victoria gasped, reaching out to tug on your sleeve from where she was leaning precariously out of the trolley.

You spun around and gasped as well, setting the snow globe down to re-situate your wobbly child. "Victoria," You scold gently, "What has Mommy told you about leaning out of the trolley?"

"Not to do it..." The youngster sighed bashfully, sliding her headphones back into place as you kissed the top of her head.

Victoria pulled her nearly too-long sleeves up and began signing with her little fingers: 'But look! Look! I saw it for Daddy.'

You smiled, pride swelling in your chest at how articulate she already was. Steven had started teaching her sign language so they both could communicate on the days where they'd sometimes go nonverbal, and it has been a wonderful thing ever since. Sometimes, when your precious girl would go silent before, she would get frustrated to the point she couldn't write what she meant because you didn't understand her. Now, communication was seamless--barring the occasional misspelling of words, anyways.

Your eyes followed Victoria's enthusiastic pointing, to the Hanukkah decorations. Dreidles, menorahs, and other objects littered the shelves (other patrons being so unkind as to not put them back into place when finished looking), but what drew your eyes the most was the cute, fluffy little moose whose antlers had been designed to look like a menorah; each point of the antler holding a little candle, a button on the plush moose lighting each one individually.

"Awww..." You coo'd, picking up the toy, noting pleasantly that it also came with an accompanying children's book.

You couldn't help it; you plucked the toy off the shelf and placed it in the trolley, making Victoria giggle in delight. She grinned widely, and pointed at the same shelf again, 'Look!' she signed.

And so, you looked again. This time, spotting something that, frankly, you were surprised to not spot sooner. In similar fashion to the Mitzvah Moose, there was a headband with moose antlers, all topped with candles. They were right next to the plain Christmas reindeer antler headbands.

'Can we get em for Daddy?' Her little hands signed furiously.

You just couldn't say no to that--to her sparkly little eyes, her nose; all red from the cold outside, her that beaming smile that stretched her round cheeks.

'Of course; he'll love it.' You grinned, setting them in the trolley.

'Let's go give em to him now, Mommy. Please? Please?' Your precious daughter's fingers moved like lightning, signing "please" almost faster than you could keep up with.

You nod, gripping the handle of the trolley and turning to leave the aisle--ah, well. You can check out the decorations once you show him the little gift you two snagged for him, later.

Marc sighed, eyeing the cute little onesies hanging no the rack in front of him. None of them seemed to fit... Her. He just couldn't decide!

The little baby strapped to his chest squirmed in the chest harness, struggling to keep her little head up as she nuzzled into Marc's shirt. He rocked gently, patting her back softly, thankful she settled down.

She had begun crying, unable to get quite situated or comfortable in her carrier in the trolley, so he opted for slinging on the chest harness Jake always packed into the diaper bag "just in case".

"Just in case" meaning "I don't want to put her down.".

Yes, your little bundle of joy arrive shortly after Halloween. She was nearly two months old, still pink, soft, and very pudgy. A "regular little butterball" Marc sighed when he held her against his bare chest for the first time.

You were right miffed at that comment, saying it's normal for babies to be round and chunky. Marc disagreed, insisting that little Tiye--Steven had been given the honor of picking a name--was a blessed, chubby little angel. He'd even joked that maybe wearing your pumpkin costume for Halloween jinxed her to match it.

"Hey, now what d'you think of this one, Butterball?" Marc asked her softly, leaning down to kiss the messy little nest of curls atop her head; dark and raven, just like his. Well... when he or the others remembered to dye-out the silver peppered in here and there.

Tiye squirmed, making a little squeak as one of her tiny hands bunched in his flannel, her eyes peeping open as Marc held up the little red-and-green onesie for her honest opinion.

She didn't fuss, didn't even whimper. Just grunted before snuggling into his chest again.

"Riiiiight. Yeah, so not your style." He grinned, patting her bum gently as he grabbed something else.

Tiye had been fussy today; gassy and uncomfortable, the poor little thing. Khonshu had offered to take it away, but Marc had vehemently declined, saying that, he was her father. He should be the one to soothe her--to learn her little tells and figure out through intuition what she needed. Fathers have been doing such things since the dawn of time--surely Marc, Steven and Jake could learn how to do it, too?

Although, there were times when the crying would overwhelm Marc--the piercing wails of a displeased newborn making his ears ring and a cold sweat drip down the back of his neck, his heart rate rising almost uncomfortably.

Such situations almost always brought Jake to the surface, willing to handle the shrieking and sniffling with ease. Even Steven, sometimes. But today, Marc refused to let them take this away from him. He was bound and determined to be a good father, to both Victoria and Tiye. His girls--their girls--whom they loved so, so much...

Marc wanted to be a better father than his ever was.

He turned, sighing dejectedly. He wanted to get her a cute outfit, today, but it looked like he wouldn't be so lucky. He felt a bit of a blush creep up his neck when he overheard a few women giggling to themselves and talking about how handsome he was, and how good of a father he was. As flattering as the compliments were, however, they didn't feel right.

He was just being a dad. No big deal. Why do people put so much stock into it when a dad is solo with his kids? It was weird. He didn't remember anyone acting like that when his dad was out with he and--

Tiye squeaked, halting Marc in his tracks. He looked down at her, "Aw, what's wrong, sweetie?" He murmured softly, his warm breath tickling her hair.

Tiye kicked out a little foot impudently, wriggling in the harness. Marc's brow pinched, not sure what had her upset. He figured quickly that she didn't need a change; she hasn't rooting around like she was hungry, or gnawing on her little fist...

He looked down at her again and spotted it: a little glimmer in her eyes, something reflective shining into them. Marc lifted his eyes and quickly spotted what it was.

It was, quite frankly, the ugliest little Christmas onesie he's ever laid eyes upon. Its primary color was black, with red and white tinsel decorating the front. Ugly cartoonish reindeer patterned here and there, with jingling bells and pom-poms sewn into the front of the onesie.

Oh, it was ugly all right. But so perfect.

'Marc... Don't do it. You know that she's gonna kill you if you do...' Jake's voice warned him from inside.

"Oh, come on..." Marc muttered, a grin on his face, plucking it off the rack, noting mentally how it was on discount.

'Probably because it is an affront to fashion itself--" Steven piped in.

Marc rolled his eyes, wiggling it in front of Tiye, noting how she kicked her little feet as the bells jingled. She didn't make her usual "I don't like that" sounds, so he took it as a plus. Quickly stuffing it into the trolley, Marc whisked it in the direction of the nearest self-checkout.

"Oh, come on. It's Christmas. People wear ugly sweaters all the time." Marc snorted smugly.

Kissing the top of Tiye's head, he grinned into the silky strands, "Let's see how quickly we can pay and change you before your mommy catches up with us, eh?"

You finally spotted Marc, gawking at some dinky little blow-up lawn ornaments. You don't have a yard, but you could understand the temptation. Some of them were equal parts cute and atrocious at the same time.

You zeroed in on the carrier, noting that Tiye was absent. You briefly felt a well of panic before, from behind, you realized; Marc was cradling her in the chest harness.

Victoria was bouncing and rocking, her hands slapping her legs--not in preparation for a meltdown, but just out of sheer excitement to show him the item she'd gotten for him.

You wheeled the trolley up behind Marc and playfully bumped him with it, making him jump and spin around--fully intending to tell you off until he realized it was you and a rather mischievous-looking Victoria whom had something clutched behind her back.

He grinned when your eyes locked, and he quickly leaned over to give you a kiss, making a theatrical "mwah" sound just to make Victoria roll her eyes. Her headphones muffled sounds, but he knew she could hear. And he was the kind of dad to do silly things to make Victoria cringe (but in a good way).

"And how are two of my favorite ladies? Find anything good?" Marc hummed, leaning down to kiss a part of your neck that became exposed from your turtleneck, making you giggle.

"Oh, Vicky found you something, alright." You winked playfully, nodding to Victoria.

The little girl stood up in the trolley, grinning from ear to ear as she wiggled in place, her arms still hidden behind her back.

"But y' gots to close your eyes, Daddy." Victoria mumbled.

"Oh, do I, now?" Marc looked at you slyly from the corner of his eyes, "And what if I don't wanna, huh?"

"Then Mommy's gonna blindfold ya." You whisper playfully in his ear, noticing the goosebumps that crept up his neck.

"Ahh, alright, alright. Since you two have twisted my arm beyond repair..." Marc leaned down, closing his eyes so Victoria could spring her little surprise on him.

His brown's knitted in confusion when he felt her slap something onto his head, the weight gentle and soft. "Can I... Open my eyes, now?"

"Just... a minute..." You had snorted, quickly fishing your phone out of your pocket to snap a photo of him, Victoria beaming from ear to ear.

As soon as he heard the shutter snap feature, Marc opened his eyes quickly, raising his eyebrow quizzically, his hands cradling Tiye to his chest as he righted himself.

"Okay, well, obviously I can't see myself, so, what's the deal?" He inquired.

You bit your lip and turned your phone screen around so he could see--Victoria unable to contain her laughter as it bubbled up, making her squeal and squirm as she threw herself back down into the bottom of the trolley. Tiye made a little squeak, squirming in Marx's embrace at the sudden noise, but settled down just as quick.

"Wait, what the--"

"You're the Mitzvah Moose, daddy!" Victoria squealed, holding up the plush toy in question.

Marc looked from the toy, to you, then to Victoria and back again multiple times before he snorted and snickered, "You serious, right now?"

"Consider it an early Christmas and Hanukkah present, baby." You giggled, kissing his cheek. "You are so reading that story to her on the first night, by the way."

Marc can't help but laugh as you brush a stray clump of curls on his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling so adorably as he humors you. "Fine, fine... Mamma's always right, isn't she?" He winked at Victoria.

Victoria nodded, her hands covering her mouth to try and stifle her little snorts and chortles.

However, your tone shifted suddenly, when you realized Tiye wasn't wearing the outfit you're dressed her in earlier today.

"Marc..."

'Uh-oh...' Steven grinned.

'Busteeeeed...' Jake chimed.

"What in hell's name is our baby wearing?"

[minheelovelee]

hii who do you think in zb1 (legal line ofc) is into corruption kink? do you think all of them would be into it? 😵‍💫 thanks xx

zb1 + corruption

thanks for requesting nonie!!! this is just gonna be some thoughts that came to mind when i thought of each member and a corruption kink. 🤔🤔 enjoy!

jiwoong

there isn’t a better example of someone with a corruption kink. he’s so much more experienced than you could ever dream to be. he qualified to touch you. you’re hardly even qualified to touch yourself. at least that’s what he whispers in your ear as he finishes you off on his fingers. he compares your hand sizes, asking which one you think would feel better. he’ll press a wet kiss to your cheek when you give him the answer he wants.

woongie who asks you to come to him when you get that special feeling in your tummy. he wants to be a reliable figure for you. but more than that, he wants to see you in ways no one has before. so he offers to teach you about pleasure. it’s the only way he can get what he wants without scaring you off. is it selfish? maybe. but is it mutually beneficial? absolutely.

hao

he very much gives me “rival who finds out you’re a virgin” vibes. you two have always clashed, but he can’t deny that he’s attracted to your bold personality. when one-too-many drinks turns into confessions of purity, he can’t help but be shocked.

he takes you then and there. not all the way- but far enough to have you fall apart on his tongue. far enough to bring you to tears. far enough to get the upper hand. when you’re coming down from your final high, he’ll tell you what he wants. keep meeting him like this, or pay the price. let everyone find out about your uncomfortable secret, with a phone camera quality video to drive the point home. he’ll leave you with your pants around you ankles and a deep feeling in your stomach. much like the one he made you feel mere minutes ago.

hanbin

he would be so so sweet. it’s hard to imagine him doing anything inherently negative. he’s not your boyfriend, yet. but he’s sure going to try to be. he’s just an upperclassman who you worked with for a project. he was sure surprised when you touched his thigh and asked him to kiss you.

when you saw his hard-on and asked if you did that to him, he almost died. replying sweetly with “yes, darling. did you want to see it?”. watching you nod “yes” sent him to the moon. a clearly inexperienced and barely pleasurable hand job was more than enough for him. he came anyway, as he watched you lose your breath from the new activity. his chest swelled with pride when you asked to touch him during your next working session. and the next. until he was making plans with you on a whim, not even bothering to bring his school work. you were getting so much better and much more confident. he couldn’t wait to teach you everything he knew.

matt

childhood best friend kind of deal. the tension between you has been thick for a handful of years. you listen to him jerk off in the bathroom and he watches you rub your thighs together when watching spicy movie scenes. he reads your texts to your boyfriend over your shoulder and you beg him to stay with you instead of leaving to see another girl. he always listens to you in the end.

one day, it just snaps. there’s nothing spectacular to push you to that moment. it’s just happens. you look at each other, then you kiss. then you touch. then you roll around. and suddenly, your shirts are off. you stop him with a hand in his chest. “matty, i’ve never done this before.” you’ve had more boyfriends than he can remember, how have you never done this? “you’re telling me this pussy has never been used before?” he asks, bluntly. you can’t help but laugh as you nod. “holy shit, baby. i’m gonna give it to you so good.” so you let him. he loves the shocked look on your face every time you find out a little more about who he truly is.

tae

you were just supposed to watch a new movie tonight. you were not meant to be touching yourself in front of taerae, on his bed. but somehow, you are. the movie had multiple scenes feature the female lead, bringing herself to a climax with screaming moans. you couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh at the acting. he nudges you with his head. “what? you think this is a comedy?” you stop. “it’s ridiculous. surely it can’t feel that good.” he scoffs. “well then you might be doing it wrong, little miss.”

and he leaves it at that. until the end of the movie. he grabs you wrist. “do you want me to show you how to do it. how to really make yourself cum?” and something in you made you say yes. maybe it was his smile. or a yearning within for true pleasure. he laughed when he saw you touch yourself. quickly, he guided your hands and taught you how to build up, and come down. as you lay in bed, breathless, he asks you one more question. “want me to show you how i would make you cum?”

ricky

he agreed to wait until marriage. you both did. he wears the famed ring on a chain around his neck to prove it. the ring loses its meaning as he loses his composure. you notice him growing more distant and increasingly agitated. when confronted, he breaks. “i can’t even look at you without getting hard anymore. it’s fucking ridiculous. i- i don’t even know what happened to me.”

there’s a pause. he freezes as you wordlessly reach around his neck. the light weight falls into your hand and into your pocket. he nearly faints as you shimmy the silver ring off of your right hand, slipping it into the same pocket. “baby, i-” he’s cut off when your lips touch his. he lets you kiss him while his hands stay occupied. he’s dreamt about this moment for weeks, imagining where he would touch first and what it might feel like. he finds that he was completely wrong, nothing compares to the feelings he experienced that night. and every night after that for a week and a half. he feels himself getting addicted to you and wonders if this is the very reason he was urged to wear the necklace in the first place.

gyuv

he’s very curious by nature. when he took your virginity, you took his. he asked you questions for hours after the event took place. “did my dick even fit in all the way?” “do you think i lasted long enough?” “next time should i flip you over?” he wants to learn more and more until he knows everything about you. it’s romantic, in a sense, but it’s eating him alive.

he thinks about it all day. getting flashbacks to your last session and daydreaming about the future. he spends more time hiding his erections than he has ever had to before. you jokingly suggest that he was possessed by a sex demon. he agrees. it seems like ever week he has a new idea to bring up in bed. “hey can we try…?” “would you like if i…” “can i….? please, just this once?” he’s not satisfied until he’s tried everything and made you follow suit.

gunwook

he thinks you’re adorable. the way you do your hair, how you dress, your mannerisms, he sees every detail. his favorite this to see is you being shy. it’s so easy to get you red and flustered. it’s almost too easy. knowing you were a virgin, he did his best not to push you in the bedroom. he was slow and careful. he was waiting. waiting for you to start initiating sex, so he could start playing with you how he wanted.

he started by making you ride his thigh. you were needy on his lap, so he told you to take what you wanted. you blushed and whined, but did as he told, because he had never failed you before. then he made you watch as he fingered you in the mirror. he held your chin and made you look at yourself, even if you cried. he pushed you further. he ate you out on the kitchen counter. he tied your wrists to the bed. he had you suck him off on a phone call. he played you like a fucking game. it’s was oh-so satisfying to him, and he can’t wait for the next round.

[idkanymark]

[Nothing can k*ll me like you do]

haechan x f!reader | jisung x f!reader | toxic relationships

INTRO: There are people who break you without ever laying a hand on you, people whose words and presence twist your heart until it bleeds, even when you try to run away. You were never supposed to go back, never supposed to fall for the same poison twice. But here you are, tangled in the same web, with no escape in sight.

Haechan was the first. The one who taught you that love can feel like a cage, no matter how sweet the promises. He pulled you in with a smile, and you thought you were strong enough to break free. You were wrong.

Then came Jisung, the calm after the storm. Or at least, that’s how he seemed—until the storm came back, and you couldn’t outrun it.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall again, but some promises were always meant to be broken. And now, you're struck between two men, both of whom have a hold on you jn ways you can’t explain.

Maybe it’s true what they say: nothing can kill me like you do.

warnings. toxic relationship, abus*d mentioned

Words count: 4.1k

Playlist:

Poison by Rita Ora

Back to you by Selena Gomez

Two years Rosé

-------------

<<I’m going to Japan for a while, you know what that means, right sweetheart?>>

His words were velvet laced with steel, soft but cutting. Sweetheart. The way he said it made your stomach churn—it was a nickname meant to tether you, not out of love, but control. He left. Of course, he left again.

He’s situationship!Haechan. The boy who couldn’t commit to you but refused to let you go. His hold on you was invisible but unshakable, like chains made of smoke. Every time he walked out, you told yourself it would be the last. And every time, you found yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps coming back.

He had too many things to do—things infinitely more important than you. You were the only thing he could throw away, the only thing in his life without permanence. You were the disposable piece in his perfectly chaotic puzzle, the one thing that could be picked up and put down without consequence. You should’ve known better by now. You don’t even understand why it still caught you off guard, why the ache in your chest always felt new.

You felt alone. You always felt alone.

But somehow, you couldn’t stay away from him. It didn’t matter how much it hurt when he left or how hollow his affection felt when he was near. You always went back. Because he was the first person you ever loved.

Love.

Who knows if he even understood what love truly meant? Every time he said the words—I love you—you wanted so badly to believe them. For two years, you clung to those words like a lifeline, even when they felt like poison, pouring from his mouth and seeping into your veins.

Sweet poison. The kind that numbed the pain just enough to keep you craving more. You held onto those words, even as they left scars you couldn’t hide—a sweet, addictive toxin that took root in your heart and made you crave him, even when you knew he was no good for you.

Poison. That’s what his love was.

You hated yourself for it, for being so weak, for letting him have this much power over you. But no matter how far you tried to run from him—physically, emotionally—you always found your way back. He was a magnet, pulling you into his orbit no matter how much it hurt to stay there.

And yet, here you were. Waiting.

The tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t let them fall. Crying wouldn’t change anything; it never did.

You knew he’d come back. He always did. But not because he cared—not the way you wanted him to. He’d come back because he needed something from you. Comfort. Validation. A break from the chaos of his life.

And you’d give it to him, wouldn’t you?

Because, deep down, you still loved him.

He wasn’t your safe place—he was the fire you couldn’t stop running into, the storm you willingly stood in. You loved him with a desperation that bordered on self-destruction. And he knew it.

Haechan always knew how to keep you tethered, dangling just close enough to feel wanted but never enough to feel whole. He fed you scraps of affection, just enough to keep you addicted. You told yourself it wasn’t love—that love couldn’t possibly hurt this much—but it was the only word you knew to describe what you felt.

And maybe that’s why you let him leave so easily every time. Because deep down, you knew he’d come back. He couldn’t stay away, just like you couldn’t let him go.

It was a vicious cycle. One neither of you knew how to break.

<<Fuck>>

You muttered under your breath, glaring at the vending machine as it refused to cooperate. Of all days, it had to choose today to malfunction—the one day you desperately needed your banana milk fix to soothe the chaos in your mind.

The machine beeped mockingly, but no drink emerged. You hit the side of it lightly, more out of frustration than hope.

<<Here, I bought extras. You can have one.>>

Startled, you turned to see a boy holding out a bottle of banana milk. He looked a little shy, his eyes warm and gentle, like the kind of guy who’d lend a hand without a second thought. He was tall, with soft features that made him seem approachable, almost boyish.

<<Oh, uhm, thanks.>>

Normally, you wouldn’t take a random offering from a stranger. But today wasn’t normal. Today was heavy, suffocating—the day Haechan was leaving. The thought churned in your stomach, adding to the weight pressing on your chest. Against your better judgment, you reached out and took the bottle.

<<Can I ask for your name?>> he asked hesitantly, almost like he wasn’t sure he should. His voice was soft, unassuming.

<<Y/N. Third year of business>> you replied, still holding the bottle, unsure why you hadn’t walked away yet.

His lips curled into a small, nervous smile. <<Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Park Jisung. I’m in my second year of business >>

You nodded, offering a faint, polite smile in return. The exchange felt oddly significant, though you couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was because someone, even a stranger, had cared enough to notice you on a day when you felt invisible—when your mind was consumed with the thought of Haechan’s departure.

If someone had told you in that moment that Park Jisung would become a part of your life, you would’ve laughed it off. And if they’d told you that this seemingly kind boy would lead you into a relationship even more toxic than the one you were trying to escape, you wouldn’t have believed them.

But life has a funny way of surprising you—twisting kindness into something cruel, turning strangers into bittersweet memories.

You didn’t know it yet, but meeting Jisung was just the beginning of a new kind of chaos, a storm that would take you in its grip before you even realized you were caught.

For now, though, all you saw was a quiet boy offering you a simple act of kindness. And for a fleeting moment, you let yourself think it meant something more.

---

Months had passed, and your relationship with Jisung was... different. Amazing, even. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with, and he treated you like you desperately wanted to be treated. For once, you felt seen—truly seen. In his eyes, you were more than just someone to keep around when it was convenient. You were his girlfriend. And despite how new this whole "girlfriend" situation was to you, Jisung was patient. He understood the struggle you faced in unlearning toxic patterns and figuring out what it meant to be loved in a healthy way. He taught you, slowly but surely, that love could be soft, steady, and unconditional.

The first time you met his friends, the "Dreamies", you were a little hesitant. You had always been so focused on your own little world—Haechan's world—that you didn't really care about anyone else. But Jisung made you feel welcome. His friends were fun, quirky, and much more laid-back than you expected. They were popular on campus, but they didn’t care about that; they were just a close-knit group, full of laughter and inside jokes. You didn’t know much about them at first, but as you got to know them, you realized how genuine and kind they all were, each one different from the people you’d once surrounded yourself with.

The best part was that Jisung made you feel like you belonged. He was always there, offering you support in ways you didn’t even know you needed. Whether it was a simple touch on your back when you were stressed or a shared quiet moment on the couch, he made you feel like you were finally safe. The cage you had been living in, built by your past with Haechan, was slowly breaking apart, piece by piece.

But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last forever. Haechan always came back.

And when he did, it was just as chaotic as you had imagined.

You were walking toward Jisung, your thoughts occupied with the quiet comfort he always provided. The warmth of his presence, the ease with which he made you feel safe—everything about him was different from the chaos you had known with Haechan.

It started with a voice. A familiar one that made you freeze in your tracks. That voice, sharp and mocking, sliced through the air like a knife.

<<So you get behind my back as a revenge, sweetheart?>>

You froze in your tracks. Your heart skipped, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was. Haechan.

You hadn’t seen him in months, but the moment he spoke, it was as though time had rewound. All the walls you’d carefully built around your heart started to crumble. You didn’t even want to turn around, but your body betrayed you, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You tried to walk past him, to keep going toward Jisung, but Haechan’s presence was a force you couldn’t easily ignore. His eyes—dark, possessive, as always—locked onto you. You felt them like a weight, pressing down, pulling at your resolve.

Haechan wasn’t good at letting go. You knew that. It had always been this way with him—he’d leave, then return, as if you were something he could come back to when it suited him. And, despite everything, you knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to claim what he thought was his.

But this time, you weren’t the same person. Or, at least, you weren’t supposed to be.

You tried to ignore him but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist with a grip that felt like it could break you.

<<You really decided to choose the easiest target in my friend group?>> Haechan’s voice was cold, sharp. His eyes flicked to Jisung, who was sitting nearby. You could feel the resentment rolling off of him as he looked at your boyfriend. Haechan didn’t like seeing you with someone else. And he sure as hell didn’t like seeing you move on.

<<Haechan, please... let go of me>> you whispered, trying to gently pull away, but his grip was unyielding.

That’s when Jisung’s calm voice reached you, clear and firm.

<<Is there a problem?>>

The moment Jisung spoke, the air shifted. Haechan’s gaze snapped over to him, his expression hardening. There was a brief, tense silence before Haechan finally let go, though not without giving you one last, lingering look. It was the same look you’d seen so many times before—the look that had once pulled you back, the look full of promises, both spoken and unspoken.

You could feel your heart race, the tightness in your chest from the weight of that look. But you didn’t let it consume you. Instead, you moved closer to Jisung, letting your fingers brush against his. The simple contact grounded you, reminded you that this was your choice now.

<<No, baby>> you whispered, glancing up at Jisung. The warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, secure. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was here to protect you, to keep you safe from the past that was still trying to pull you back in.

Haechan scoffed, his voice dripping with bitterness. <<He’s your boyfriend, but you’re still the same, Y/N. You always will be>>

Jisung didn’t flinch. His gaze never left you. He didn’t even spare Haechan a second glance. His attention was completely on you—on the subtle way you tensed in his presence, on the slight tremble in your hand as you reached out for his. He could see it. He could see the way Haechan still had a hold on you, how you were still torn between two worlds.

His hand moved to the small of your back, a soft but firm gesture, as though silently reminding you that you were safe with him—that you didn’t have to go back to what was broken.

But you knew the truth. This wasn’t just about a confrontation between two people. It was about the scars Haechan had left, the damage that still lingered in your chest. And the more you stood there with Jisung by your side, the more you realized that the past had to stay there, in the past, where it belonged.

You weren’t that person anymore. You wouldn’t let him pull you back in.

As Jisung stood next to you, calm but with a tension in his body that mirrored your own, you could feel the weight of Haechan’s gaze on you, still trying to pull you into his web. But you refused. This time, you wouldn’t let him have that power over you.

Jisung, though, knew. He understood that Haechan wasn’t just someone from your past—he was a shadow that threatened to swallow your future if you weren’t careful. And for the first time, Jisung wasn’t just concerned with losing you to someone else. He was afraid that you might lose yourself to the past, to a version of you that was twisted by love and manipulation.

He could see the way you glanced back toward Haechan, the tension that still gripped your shoulders. But Jisung wasn’t going to let you slip away.

And as the moments stretched out, the realization began to settle in. Haechan wasn’t just a man from your past—he was the past you needed to let go of, if you wanted any chance at healing. Jisung—your present—was the one who could help you rebuild. Even if it meant fighting against everything that had torn you down before.

Or at least, Jisung thought he was your person, he desperately wanted to be your person.

----

From that day on, it was a constant back-and-forth between the three of you. Haechan always found a way to come back, to reclaim what he thought was his, pulling you back into his web like the pied piper leading you toward destruction. And Jisung, who once seemed like the sweetest guy next door, slowly began to change. You knew, deep down, it was your fault.

The way you kept going back to Haechan, even after you promised yourself—and Jisung—that you wouldn’t, creating cracks in the foundation of whatever you and Jisung had built. At first, he was understanding, and patient. He listened when you cried, waited when you pulled away, and forgave when you stumbled. But even the kindest hearts have limits.

Jisung began to harden. His quiet warmth turned cold, his gentle touches grew tense, and the boy who once gave you banana milk with a shy smile now gave you silence laced with resentment. The cracks became fissures, and soon enough, he wasn’t the same boy you’d met that day by the vending machine.

It all came to a head the day Jisung decided to marry you.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, a ring on your finger would make you stop running back to Haechan. That it would anchor you to him, tie you to a promise you couldn’t break. He wanted to believe that he was enough to make you stay.

But it didn’t, it only made things worse. The weight of his expectations, his growing frustration, and your inability to let go of Haechan created a storm neither of you could escape. The once-soft love he offered became sharp, laced with bitterness and possessiveness. He didn’t trust you anymore, and you didn’t blame him.

You tried to love him the way he deserved, but your heart was fractured, pieces of it still caught in Haechan’s grasp. And every time you faltered, Jisung sank deeper into the toxicity that had become your relationship.

<<Do you really want to marry him?>> Haechan’s voice echoed in your mind, cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

<<Haechan, please... I can’t do this anymore>> You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, even though you knew better than to cry in front of him.

<<So, to get over me, you want to marry him?>> He said it like he didn’t understand, but you knew better. He knew exactly how this would play out. He always did. He reached out, fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that felt too familiar.

<<I would do anything and everything to get over you>> you whispered, your voice breaking as the weight of your own words hit you.

<<Oh, sweetheart>> Haechan’s voice softened with a mocking sadness. <<You need someone twisted to keep you. Otherwise, you'll run away>>

And he was right.

Jisung had begun to change in ways you hadn’t expected. He saw the way you still let Haechan worm his way into your heart. He saw you pulling away from him, always reaching for someone who didn’t want you the same way he did. So Jisung did the only thing he knew—he twisted himself.

You turned the nicest guy into the most toxic one. He started to become possessive, and distant. His eyes, once soft and full of warmth, began to harden. His affection turned into control, his care became an obsession. The jealousy that simmered in his chest boiled over, turning him into someone you barely recognized. It started slowly, with small comments, things that made you feel suffocated.

But soon, it wasn’t just the words. It was his actions. The way he gripped your wrist too tightly when you tried to walk away, the way he would get angry when you spoke to anyone else, even a passing acquaintance, the way his fingers tightened when you reached for your phone. The kindness that had once radiated from him was replaced with a jealousy that had festered too long. It wasn’t just in the way he looked at you anymore, but in the way he treated you—rough, sharp, demanding.

In bed or out of it, Jisung wasn’t the same boy who had once shyly offered you a drink. He was someone darker, more dangerous, someone who wanted control over every inch of you. Every time you tried to pull away, he pulled you back harder. Every time you tried to breathe, he smothered you with his need to possess you.

And yet, somehow, you stayed.

The ring hadn’t fixed anything. If anything, it made it worse. The more Jisung tried to tether you to him, the more you realized that the chains you’d placed on your heart were only growing tighter. You couldn’t escape. And you didn’t want to. Not really.

The cycle of toxicity had been set in motion the moment you let Haechan go and let Jisung in. But it wasn’t really about Jisung or Haechan anymore. It was about you. The choices you made, the heart you couldn’t let go of. You couldn’t fix them, and they couldn’t fix you.

And now, the pieces were shattered beyond repair.

-----

-----

[IN CASE YOU WANT A DIFFERENT ENDING:

The night before the wedding.

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection of the woman who had been torn apart by promises and lies. The wedding dress hung in front of you, a symbol of everything you thought you wanted, everything you thought would fix what had been broken. But in your heart, you knew nothing could fix this.

Not the wedding. Not the baby. Not Jisung’s unyielding belief that he was the father, or Haechan’s constant reminders that you were his. They had both clawed their way into your life, suffocating you with their demands, with their manipulations, until you couldn’t breathe without feeling guilty, without feeling like you were trapped between two worlds.

You had promised yourself you'd break free. But every time you tried, you ended up right back where you started—tangled in their webs, suffocating under the weight of their expectations. And now, with a baby growing inside you, everything was more complicated. You didn't even know who the father was, but both Jisung and Haechan had claimed it as their own, their constant pestering and demands driving you even further into a cage of their making.

Jisung’s patience had worn thin. He was convinced, as always, that marrying him would fix everything, that you would be his anchor, that you would finally be the person he always wanted you to be. He didn't care that you were fractured, broken in ways he couldn't understand. He just wanted the life he had imagined, the life where everything was perfect, where you were perfect.

And Haechan—he never stopped. His presence, his possessiveness, his constant belief that you were his, that you belonged to him, had wrapped around you like a vine, pulling you back every time you tried to escape. The way he always knew exactly what to say to make you question yourself, to make you second-guess the path you were on. The way he would remind you that you would never be free from him, no matter how hard you tried.

But tonight, in the silence of your room, as you stared at your reflection, you realized something: you had been living in their shadows for too long. You had let them decide your worth. You had let them determine your happiness. You had let them shape your future, and now, you couldn’t even remember who you were before they found you.

Jisung still believed it was his child. Haechan still believed it was his. And you? You didn’t even know. You didn’t know who the father was, but you knew this life wasn’t yours anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine. You couldn’t keep pretending that this marriage, this baby, this life was what you had wanted.

A knock at the door.

You knew it was Jisung. He’d been waiting for you, just outside, desperate for you to come to him. But you couldn’t. Not like this. Not anymore.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed your phone and texted him: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over as you stood up and grabbed your bag. The weight of the life you had built with Jisung—now a lie—pressed down on you. The weight of the past with Haechan, now tangled into your every decision, made your chest feel like it was caving in. You had let them both control your life, and now you needed to break free.

You called an Uber, as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to piece your life back together. But you knew this was the only choice left.

As the car pulled away from the apartment, you stared out the window, your heart aching. You couldn’t fix everything. You couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. But you could leave. You could finally choose yourself.

The baby inside you was a constant reminder of the mess you had made, but it wasn’t going to be your cage anymore. You didn’t know who the father was, and maybe it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that you were choosing your freedom, your future, even if it was terrifying, even if you didn’t have all the answers.

When the car stopped, you paid the driver and stepped out onto the unfamiliar street. The world felt too big, too overwhelming, but for the first time in years, you felt a sliver of peace.

You weren’t sure what the future held. You weren’t sure how everything would turn out. But for once, you were free.

And that was all you needed.

[marauding-almond]

Regulus getting the mark one winter night with his family watching, cheering him on, being so scared of what he’s doing, but finally being seen for himself and not just Sirius’ brother, so he does it, because his it’ll make his parents proud, and he has to make them proud, so he does it, he’s terrified, he doesn’t want to, but if that’s what it takes to finally get his mother’s love, he’ll do it.

And he did it, and he put on a smile, and he pretended to be strong, and happy, and he was happy, because his father was saying how he was proud of him, and his mother hugged him, and he was part of the family, and he hadn’t been erased by Sirius, he was his own person, and he had his own place, and his place was here.

But back at hogwarts, safe and away in his bed at midnight, he lets himself cry, he lets himself mourn the childhood he wouldn’t ever get back, the teenage hood he was giving up, the life he was sacrificing. He was seventeen, he just wanted to be safe and happy and living life, but now he did this, for a single hug.

He cried alone in the dark, until there was a face in between the curtains, Barty. Barty couldn’t see him cry, no one could see him cry, crying was weak, he couldn’t be weak, he wasn’t weak. He chocked on his sobs and fount back the tears, but Barty just climbed in and held him, tighter and closer than his mother ever did.

Barty held him previously, like he meant something, so he finally broke down into his shoulder, thinking that he’d given up everything for a hug she didn’t even mean, she’d never held her like this, never, why would she? She didn’t care. She didn’t care, he realised, more clearly than he’d ever been able to see.

“I messed up, Barty,” he choked. It was all he could do.

Barty lifted his face, and Regulus thought, just for a second, that he was going to hit him for having been weak, for admitting that he’d done something wrong. But Barty just looked at him carefully, lovingly, and held him so softly he felt bad for even thinking that. Barty would never, of course not, he just gotten confused.

“What happened, love?” Barty asked softly.

“I - I,” he stammered. He never stammered. “I got it. I got the mark,” he finally whispered, and saying it out loud made it so much more real, tears started falling down his cheeks again, looking down to avoid Barty’s eyes, he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t imaging what he’d fine in them.

But Barty just lifted his face back up, and wiped his tears with the soft palm of his hand, and said softly: “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’ll be okay, love, you’re safe, you’re with me.”

“But that’s the point. I won’t be with you. I’ll be out there, without you, and I’m going to die. I’m going to die, Barty. I can’t- I can’t do anything.”

“No, Reggie. No,” Barty replied firmly.

“What?”

“No. You won’t be alone. I’ll get the mark too, and I’ll go with you, and I’ll keep you safe, and you won’t die. You’re not going to die, Reg. Not while I’m still here, do you hear me?”

“What, Barty, you can’t-”

“Yes, I can. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Anything. I love you, Regulus, I love you so goddam much. I’m not letting you slip away.”

Regulus looked at Barty, deep into his brown eyes, and he found in them only love and care and determination. He couldn’t grasp how what he’d done to deserve it. His mother had made it clear that he wasn’t worth it. But there Barty was, saying that he was worth it, he was worth fighting for, and Regulus felt more loved than he’d ever had.

He clung onto Barty, keeping him close, trying to show how much he meant to him, how much this meant to him.

“I love you,” his whispered against Barty’s chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[raeofgayshine]

Hi okay so I was thinking and then this hit me so:

After the first movie, Larry approaches Ahkmenrah and asks for favor. He needs help with leading the museum, and keeping a balance between everyone there. Ahk already had the experience, and well his tablet did bring them to life so this was more or less his kingdom.

This conversation follows:

“It’s a kind offer Larry. But I don’t want to be pharaoh again.” Ahk stared up at the sky, trying his best to make out the stars against the pollution of the city. “I never wanted a crown. I never wanted to lead. But I couldn’t turn my back on my nation in need.”

Larry looked at him confused. “But Ahk, you were born to lead.”

Ahk shook his head. There wasn’t words to explain how far away from the truth that was. He tried so hard. But he was never cut out for the role of pharaoh.

“One last time. I’m past my prime. But I served with pride. So while we still have time, we’re going to teach them how to stay in line. You and I.”

It was the best he could offer. Ahkmenrah never wanted to be pharaoh again, but he could put the title back on for just a few more weeks if it meant helping Larry find peace in the museum. Together, they could teach the others a set of guidelines to keep the place running smoothly. And then Ahk would bow out. Step down for the final time from being a pharaoh, before it could take anything else from him.

“Three weeks. We have three weeks. And then you, Guardian of Brooklyn, will be the true leader of the museum. And I… I will be just Ahkmenrah. For the first time since I turned 18. I will be nothing but myself.”

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[aziraphales-lawyer]

Literally no other way I could describe it right now.

[the-woman-upstairs]

Honestly, even without Art’s attempts at manipulation and sabotage, I don’t think Patrick and Tashi’s relationship would’ve survived anyway. Before they started dating, Patrick was criticizing her career plans and Tashi was never interested in entertaining his massive ego at her expense. Passion and chemistry are important to relationships, but if that’s the only foundation, it’s gonna crumble quickly.

The only difference between Patrick/Tashi vs Art/Tashi is that the relationship would’ve ending with a bang instead of a whimper.

[imagineagreatadventure]

when i think of corporate greed i remember how the worker comp attorney for the insurance company told my mom's workers comp lawyer (bc they have known each other for years) that they were essentially waiting for her to die and that's why they didnt' pay her for months the amount she was owed