#it wasn't a me error it was a someone on the other end at the pharmacy on their records error

[spotaus]

Hehe, you flatter me!!!

Yes! This is low-key Error's first real introduction to tye plot as of now, so I had to re-establish his behavior a little! He's like... obnoxiously happy to share his stuff, all the time, and it shows!!

And ough, I'm so so glad the vibes played out there because that's exactly the energy I was going for with the food, haha! (He's suddenly in a very secure and safe location, feeling good about himself, and has very little worries? AND he doesn't have to eat Geno's bad cooking? He'll yeag 🙏)

Yes! At first I was going to have him overreact, but Error has seen a LOT of weird stuff in his life, and heard a lot of stories, and frankly Nightmare's new look didn't strike him as an issue. (And if it *was* something he wasn't supposed to see. Well. He was decent at playing off those encounters too lol-)

I wasn't sure how intense I wanted to go with his reaction, so I went with the gut feeling of 'oh, that's not good'. Because like. Geno used to tell Error all sorts of horror stories from magic mishaps from his school, or in the market, or from the past. The academy had certain magic studies banned for those reasons too. And. Idk how much I want to focus on it. But Geno didn't always have that giant wound in his skull. I almost like to think that what made him the way he is now was him playing around with altering his magic typing.

I'm thinking that back before even Fresh was around, Geno had realized that his magic could be stronger if he just learned to use other magic, like humans could. Amd the way he sees magic like gems? He'd cobble together haphazard crystals, each one with a different make-up, texture, and ofc spell behind them. They were unrefined, and not clean. And then it occurred to him that Diamonds reflect all the colors! So maybe... and yeah, I think this idiot baby boy tried to make a spell with all the magic types fused into one, but obviously he was just a little guy! The strain on his developing soul was too much and he burnt out his right eyelight. His soul, already about half a normal soul, crystallized and chucked away, leaving him with his soul 'shard'.

And Error doesn't know the full story, but Geno had warned him away from playing with different magic types when he was alone. (BTW Geno did end up figuring out how to make crystals. They just require an ungodly amount of patience and perfect concentration for like. Several days. Pressure all at once backfires, slowly applied pressure works wonders.)

Sorry, sidetracked! But yes! Error knows that it's not good, abd that it hurts, and the he doesn't like it! But it's not his place to step in because Night's not doing it alone, and he assumes there must be good reason if someone like Ccino isn't stopping him. (When Nightmare literally told no one how much it hurts abd strains him so they just don't know lmao-)

Hehehe!!!! I took a page put of you bookeith that section! I wanted to delve a bit deeper into how Error sees his magic, abd like you said, he needed to try it out himself to try and understand! I feel like Error's always a hands-on learner, and when words fail him, physical things won't!

And yeag. I think the house was usually pretty empty, but when Geno came home for breaks he'd fill a shelf with his books to study. And Error isn't a book guy, but a skim would've been more helpful than his current nothingburger worth of knowledge lol!

!!!!! I genuinely could not come up with a way to present the vibes Error had but! Yes!! He saw Nightmare frfr being just like him. Someone talented, someone special in a way people weren't prepared for (bro does NOT get that Night actually has -3 intelligence coming to Magic now) and he's thrilled! Another person in the same boat as him!

Yes, the offer! Technically, Nightmare already offered for Ccino to leave. (I don't think he ever asks the Knights directly, but he hints at it. Those first few missions after his change being solo ones, a chance to run) but Error is the first person he believes might take it. He could go anywhere, Night would sponsor him, and it would be easy as that. But Night forgets that Error is opinionated. (And stubborn, and he hates drastic change.) Error made his choice that a day to become a Mage. He broke rules to get here, he sat through Night's lectures to get here! He's not just giving that all up now! Protection is never something he believes he needs, he's the danger to everyone else, frankly. He's staying whether the King likes it or not!!!

And yeag!! Nightmare was scared! He had spiraled after Error fled his office and was sure that Error would run away, or hate him, or (worst of all) decide to rebel. Despite Ccino calming him down, he was sure Error was going to leave. Nightmare thought he was going to fail Error. But! When Error so stubbornly claimed loyalty, Nightmare couldn't help but cry! He was an emotional kid before, he's one now. And Error! He's not used to people crying (not like Fresh or Geno did much of it) but he used to get comforted by Geno a lot when he'd come back from market or school and get so mad he would cry. And Geno used to tell him it was alright, relate to it. So Error does the same here! (<- Geno was emotionally constipated about romance, but he's got brothering down to an art!)

The balcony!!! That stupid lil fireworks gun was going to be my final scene whether I wanted it to be or not! Error made something entirely for fun for once, and it was to be thoughtful towards the king! The King he didn't even know was young again! And he shut his trap for once to just enjoy tye silence. Not many people can get him to do that haha!

New Age AU Drabble (Lonely)

Hello everyone!! Welcome to the next drabble I swore I was going to write! This one I'm very fond of, because it involves the two who kickstarted this whole thing, the King and his Royal Mage (in-training)-

This happens some time after Nightmare's reversal to his new age, so it's basically the next one in chronological order for the main story drabbles!

@ancha-aus @mutzelputz @papiliovolens Hi guys!! Welcome back :)

Ping

Error glanced up from his project when the little tingle of his magic blinked into his awareness. Someone’s outside? He looked over at the heavy door that separated the cool space of his study from the stairs which led down to the main floors of the castle. On his end, it was absolutely tangled in blue wires, like his own little spider web. Though, to be fair, the rest of the room wasn’t faring much better. He’d certainly taken the chance to make the space his. The king had told him to, after all! Much better than the tidy room his brothers always made him help clean…

Blue strings lashed out from the ceiling and wrapped around his current project, wrapping securely around it before tugging it, his knitting needles, and the notes he had scattered all up into the loft space shrouded in shadow above him. It was just a lot safer to keep all his projects up there, out of his way until he needed them. Out of sight of his rare visitors. He couldn’t show them something that wasn’t ready! That would be embarrassing! Not Royal Wizard behavior at all. 

As his project rose, Error rolled onto his back, popping his spine before making an effor to stand up himself. How long had he been laying there? Normally he’d have been up in one of his hammocks, but this project required he keep it level until a later step, so he’d decided that the soft rug on the floor and a few blankets would have to suffice. Had it been an hour or two? Knowing him, probably much longer. He didn’t like pulling back the curtains, his strings didn’t glow in the darkness if he did. Infusing magic worked a lot easier for him in the dark.

He glanced to the door again. Thirty seconds and there hadn’t been any more pings? It had to be someone he actually halfway wanted to see, then. Darn. 

Error crossed the space, stepping over a few loose supplies, and around a few of his hanging strings, until he came to the door. As much as he wished he could ignore this person, he knew better. So, he gripped the solid iron handle and swung the door inwards towards him. 

Stood outside on the landing of the stairs was Sir Dust. 

He wasn’t an unwelcome sight, but he definitely wasn’t an expected one either. Lately, it’d been that Ccino guy showing up to his door unannounced, bringing him meals or just checking in on him. Sir Dust had been there the day he was hired, the knight doing his best to encourage Error to not make stupid, rash choices. Fortunately, given that chance to think, Error had been able to return with a smart and rash choice instead! Which, might he add, landed him this sweet gig for royalty. That was why, when Dust came around, Error didn’t turn him away. His magic was powerful, and despite being small, he was really cool. 

“Error.” Sir Dust greeted. “Brought dinner. Ccino’s been busy.” 

Sir Dust was always blunt. Even that first day they met, when he’d spoken more than a few words he’d seemed strained. Uncomfortable. He was comfortable here in his home territory. 

And, he wasn’t lying! Error hadn’t even noticed it, but when he looked down, his eyelights honed in on the plate held easily in one of Dust’s hands, and a jug held in the other to his side. 

Error was quick to lean out the doorway with a grin and snatch up the plate, careful not to make contact with Dust’s hands. He’d abandoned his glasses somewhere behind him in the room, so he had to raise the plate closer to his face before he recognized the contents. 

“Noodles, sweet!” He half-whispered to himself. 

His hand moved, gesturing out towards Dust. More of his strings shot past, from somewhere in the room, and clutched the jug before tugging it back inside with a flick of Error’s free hand. 

“Ccino told me to tell you: Drink that water. You’ll get dehydrated.” Dust voiced, watching unbothered as the jug was tugged back and out of his view. 

Error glanced up at him, and scoffed. Ccino had been doing his best to get Error to drink more tea with him because tea had water. Error was fine! He didn’t need as much water or food as an average monster, it was normal! Besides, he’d forget about it anyways. 

“Okay. Thanks!” he said anyways. Though, it was mostly thanks for the food. Error loved when Ccino made noodles. They were always buttery, and Error wasn’t sure how he always made something that looked so bland taste so good. …Now his mouth was watering. Maybe he was a little hungry after all. 

Error waited for Dust to start making his decent back down the stairs, but when he saw the monster was still stood still and quiet, he raised a brow. Was there something else? Had to be. He hoped Dust didn’t want inside. Error had all the plans to devour this food and then dive headfirst back into his project. He didn’t want to be distracted. 

“One more message.” Dust said, watching Error. His white eyelights were clear under his hood. Error didn’t think he was wearing his mask, but even with the soft glow from his web of strings he couldn’t tell in the shadows. Didn’t matter to him either way. 

“King Nightmare’s rescheduling your next… report.” Dust said plainly.

At that, Error felt his soul stop a bit in his chest. “Why?” He asked without thinking. The King had been listening and seemed interested during his last report! He’d made a lot of progress since then too, finished one of them enough that they could test it! The King had said he was excited to see it! Surely he hadn’t been tossed aside so quickly?

Dust seemed unphased by his demand of an answer. 

“The King is just taking time to rest. Last project wore him out.” Dust explained, before he added, “Ccino’s orders. Like drinking your water.” 

Error couldn’t tell, not really, but he was pretty sure the knight was grinning at that last part. Ha ha, very funny. Though, he wasn’t wrong. Error was pretty sure the entire castle knew that Ccino guy was in charge of keeping the King in check. Heck, when he’d first been brought in, the King looked worried about introducing him to that Ccino. Error never knew why, they’d gotten along great! 

But, if it was Ccino telling the King to take a break? He figured that the King was probably listening. Fair enough. His soul calmed down a little at the rationalization. 

“Oh, alright.” Error said finally, “Do you… know when he’ll want the next report by, then?” 

He could still plan, right? Maybe it was only a few days. 

“Mm, pretty sure Ccino said next month? Gotta catch up on some things. You live here.” Dust replied. 

Oh. Okay. Hmm. That was… a lot longer than he’d been hoping for. He could probably manage, though. Keep chugging away at his current project, maybe have time to draft a new one. Bigger? But, wait, the King wanted him to propose any bigger ones to him first. Supposedly he’d be allowed unlimited creative liberties, it was more so if something exploded he’d know what happened, but still. He didn’t want to break the few rules he had. Old projects then! Make them the best ever! 

He blinked in surprise when the little ping tingled in his skull. 

Dust had turned around without him noticing, a hand extended to just barely nudge one of his hanging strings. He didn’t look back as he spoke. 

“Gotta get back to rounds. G’night Error.” He said.

Error watched, disoriented for a second, before he nodded to himself. 

“Good night, Sir Dust!” He returned hurriedly.

He watched as the knight started moving, and entirely silently he descended the steps. Only when he had turned the curve out of sight and his shadow disappeared from the wall where torches below cast it, did he pull the door shut and return inside his room. 

His steps echoed against the stone floor until he returned to the cushioned rug, and then moved even further past that to one of his low-hanging hammocks. 

It was tucked beside a bookshelf that the King had let him stock with whatever books he liked from the library during his first week. The room had been cold and bare, obviously unlived in for a while, and Error didn’t exactly have a lot to move in. Just his spare clothes, the (now empty) pouch he’d been using to store his coin, and the dolls. He’d refused to remove those from his bag until he was alone, though, so he’d really had nothing to call his own. The King had given him the opportunity to collect items like books from the library, had let him choose some items from an incoming shipment of trading goods, and had sent someone to buy any equipment Error might need to advance his magic and creations. 

And, for the most part, Error was very self-sufficient. He’d had time to knit himself new clothes, and blankets, and decorate the room entirely with his magic. He spent a lot of time up in the high ceiling too, it was where he kept his dolls, and the projects, and all his important belongings. Everyone once in a while, though, he liked the bookshelf wall. Especially when he was eating. It was just easier to remember not to just hang up the plate among his projects. 

Ccino’s cooking was always delicious, Error would never not look forward to a meal made by him, even if it was the lamest sounding food ever. He’d managed to make brussel sprouts tolerable. A feat, honestly. The tastiness and warmth that spread through him couldn’t distract him from his worries, though. 

Error knew he’d have to work hard to make sure the King was impressed. But also not too bothered by it. He knows his explosive spells used to make his professors and tutors angry, and while the King had been nice about it so far, if he was tired? Error wouldn’t want to push the limits. But if he was too simply about it or lackluster, the King might be upset he was wasting his time? Ohhh. At least he had a month to work and try things out before then. Hopefully he could have an idea at that point. Hopefully. 

…

Ten days. 

Error had given it about 5 days after the time that the report was originally meant to happen, five days after Dust told him it’d been rescheduled, before he felt like he might go stir-crazy. Not because he was worried, but because of the exact opposite. He had his few other ongoing projects, mostly if not entirely completed, up to the King’s review. But he’d also developed another, newer, concept that he just knew would brighten the King’s mood. 

Dust had been the one periodically bringing him food still, he hadn’t seen Ccino, and Error didn’t dare pry too far. All he’d been told was that the King was still swamped with duties and was locking himself in his study to complete his duties. 

Now, Error was not one to talk about unhealthy work ethic, not in the slightest, but he figured it couldn’t be fun. The things the King was doing weren’t exciting or engaging like Error’s projects were, they were all papers and about talking to people. Error dreaded the idea of sitting alone in a room, trying to figure out something stupid like which roads a guy should walk or what people thought of him. Sounded stressful. 

So, Error had made something to make the King feel less bad! Less cooped up! 

Originally he had wanted to wait until his report, but he’d been so invested in making this that it’d only taken him a day, and his miniature prototypes had worked perfectly, so the larger one was ready in just a day or two! He’d really really tried to convince himself to be patient but… The King had liked him because he was bold! And did things he didn’t expect! And Error didn’t want to lose that reputation. If the King wouldn’t come to him, he’d just go to the King! 

That was the thought process, of course, which had led him to the entryway to the King’s royal wing. Then past it and the guards standing watch. Then to standing right infront of the door to the King’s study. 

He knew it was the study because he’d been inside once before. The King usually met with him up in the tower, but they had met down in his study once, to talk about the revised contract. It had been a long, boring conversation which involved the King asking Error to repeat his words back to him at certain points (the King had caught him spacing out several times, but never scolded him) to make sure he was actually listening. Something about making sure Error was safe and had other options? The King seemed super serious about making sure Error was okay, just because he was a kid, but he wasn’t a kid anymore! He was 13 by the time he signed, basically a whole adult! 

But, point is, Error had spent at least an hour or two in there listening to the King talk. He knew where this room was. 

Staring at the door was… a little imposing. What was his plan again? Burst inside? 

Yeah. If he knocked, someone would send him away. Just like at the try-outs. He had to just commit and walk in. The King had said in the contract that Error was always welcome to come to him if he needed something. And right now? Error needed his attention. 

He reached out, grabbing the big handle in one hand as he clutched his satchel with the other. He twisted it, and the moment it processed that it wasn’t locked, he pushed it inwards and slipped inside. He blindly shut it in his wake, just in-case someone tried to push him outside. 

Leaning against the door, his eyelights shot around to take in the room. 

No one was charging at him, and no one was rushing to yell at him. Good. Good. He-

“Error?” 

Well that wasn’t a voice he recognized! 

Error abandoned his skim of the room to search for the origin of the voice, and found himself staring wide-eyed at a monster across the room. This monster was a skeleton, their bones white, they seemed short, and skinny, and their one socket was wide in surprise with a single cyan eyelight, the other empty and seemingly gone dark. They stared at each-other. 

This odd skeleton, Error noticed, wore the King’s clothes. To a tee, the cloak, the shirt, the pants. The shoes looked different, but the pants covered them enough that Error couldn’t quite tell on a quick glance. That, and this skeleton had the King’s circlet resting on their skull, crescent moon plastered right in the center of their forehead. 

Error would’ve doubted the conclusion his mind came to, if it weren’t for the fact that he noticed this skeleton was not the only other one in the room. A quick glance revealed that Ccino was sat nearby to the skeleton, resting on one of the chairs around the coffee table. Error had been able to pick up that Ccino didn’t relax much at all. Especially not around strangers. 

“King Nightmare?” He asked back, staring at the monster across the room still. 

The way the monster seemed to flinch at the title told Error he was right. This was the King! 

A lot of questions flooded his mind, but they were beat-out by a sudden flood of curiosity. He hurried across the room, rapidly approaching the King, until they were stood just a few feet apart. He didn’t even notice Ccino’s worried ‘ah, ah wait-’ or the way the King had to refrain from stepping away. He just saw his suspicions were correct. 

“You’re… shorter.” He voiced, stupidly. 

He wasn’t wrong! The King was now shorter than him by at least half a head! Before the mass of dark magic that was the King had been taller than him by a lot, and he was tall for his age, but now! Now he was tiny! He wasn’t sure what to do with this information besides be delighted. He was used to being taller than people, but taller than a king? Now that was more his speed!

It took a few seconds for it to finally hit Error that the King did… not look happy. He didn’t look mad, but Error knew that was not an expression people would give when they were happy. His brows were furrowed a bit, his mouth tugged down ever so slightly at the corners, his shoulders were tense. 

“I- Yes, I am a bit… shorter. Than usual.” The King replied, “May I ask why you’re, ah, here, Mage Error?” 

Error blinked at him for a second. Right! He was here for a reason! 

“Oh! I just finished a lot of my projects, and I know that the report was rescheduled, but I made something I thought you would really like, and I…” He trailed off a moment as he realized Nightmare was staring at him. Had he done something wrong? 

Nightmare was still watching him, but seemed more alarmed that Error had stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he liked being able to read the King’s expressions like this. Usually, the king had a poker-face worthy of a family game night, only breaking when he was pleased and smiled. Now his expressions were so obvious even Error could read them. It was strange. 

“...Please, continue. A project?” The King seemed to catch himself and prompted. His expression schooled again, though it looked like he had to put in some effort. Eyelight flickering away from Error before shooting back to him. 

Error hesitated for a second, but ultimately continued. 

“I just… Thought that if I came to find you it wouldn’t take too long to show you, and then you wouldn’t be stuck doing just all your paperwork all day.” He was a bit more reserved than he’d meant to be when he presented the idea, both his hands now clutching the strap on his satchel. “I mean. If you’re that busy I can always. I can come back.” He paused again, “Or I- I- I can wait until my report day. Like I… probably should have.” 

He didn’t like the way his voice had stuttered and lagged at the end as he became more uncertain. He glanced over at Ccino. 

The older skeleton was watching between them wordlessly, looking a lot more tense than when Error had first seen him. Like he was waiting for something to happen. His eyelights were plastered on the King. Who was staring at Error intently. 

“Is this project something which you could share inside the study? I… wasn’t intending on leaving my hall today.” the King asked him in an oddly gentle tone. His voice slowed the same way as usual, but it was strange to hear it in such a high voice. 

Error’s hands wrung the strap of his satchel as he thought. “It’s. Ah. Explosive. It’d have to be outside.” He admitted in defeat. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that the King might not want to abandon his work to go look at Error’s spells. Thinking back, they did probably all look pretty silly to the King. He was really good at magic. Just like Dust was. “It can wait.” he added briefly. 

The silence that followed only lasted a second or two, enough for Error to furrow his brow and feel that little hint of indignation that used to plague him, the one that made him so mad at everyone. What was he thinking? He was good at magic too! Maybe not as good as the King, but certainly he was powerful, his magic wasn’t bad or a waste. Those instructors back at the academy were wrong, he knew so, he had to stop thinking about what they’d thought of him.

Error found himself glaring at the floor when a sound snapped his attention upwards. A fizzling sound and a little groan from the King. The King had gripped his skull, covering the socket with the cyan eyelight and turning away from Error’s view in a snap. 

That fizzling noise had sounded… unhealthy, to put it plainly. It didn’t help that Ccino finally spoke up, a little ‘My King?’ worriedly ringing out from the chair where Ccino had planted himself. The King had hunched himself forwards a bit to clutch at his socket, like he was trying to hold in pain. 

Was… was the king sick? Was that why he looked like this? Initially he’d assumed the dark energy had been a glamor. Some kind of magical enhancement to shield him, to make him more fearsome, even to cover up stunted growth. This must’ve been what he looked like normally, right? But. If that were true, the King would’ve just called it back onto his person or had Ccino usher him out. If he was sick, though? He might not be able to control that magic. Might be limited in its output, or even barred from access…

Error would’ve asked him, but his eyes moved curiously to the mirror instead. The reflection gave Error a perfect view of the King’s other side. The way the magic in his palm was flickering and sparking. Between- Between colors. The cyan Error was familiar with, and a soft purple that he’d never seen. 

He must’ve been right, on some level, because he realized it. He couldn’t sense the King’s magic. 

Or, at least, he couldn’t sense any magic that was active. The King’s magic worked like an aura, at least as far as Error had seen of it. Wide-spread, curling around anyone and anything it liked like a vine, and strangling what it didn’t like a noose. He wasn’t as good at seeing magic or feeling it as his brother, but he knew when a magical signature was missing, and he could feel familiar ones. The magic that the King was using to make his eyelight flicker? It was familiar, if only faintly, but it wasn’t his normal magic. Not by a longshot. There was very little intent, and what there was felt. Strange. Desperate, almost. 

“It’s alright. I’m fine, just a hiccup.” The King said, clearly responding to Ccino. 

It took a few deep breaths before the King righted himself, and Error watched as he peeked at the mirror first. He saw that the King’s eyelight was cyan again, but only partly. The bottom portion was still that lavender, and he hissed under his breath before covering his socket with his hand again. 

That same fizzling noise again, but muffled. Error watched, clearly, as the King’s face momentarily contorted with pain, before going still again. 

That couldn’t be healthy, whatever he was doing. His brother had told him all sorts of horror stories about things going wrong with magic at his academy. People who would change their appearance, and they would do it poorly, with adverse effects on their body. He got a chill.

“I- I- can wait. The project can wait.” Error muttered over the sound of that magic fizzling and popping over the King’s socket. 

He didn’t waste any time, even as he was pretty sure the King turned to call him back. He was already to the door, and then out of the door, and then hurrying down the hall. 

No one in the castle actually cared what he was up to, so he wasn’t exactly careful as he hurried down the halls and back to the tall tower which was his. When he passed the entryway, hsi strings caught his arms and tugged him up and over the dozens of spiraling stairs, straight to his doorway. He practically spun inside and retreated to the rafters among his projects to disperse the ones he’d placed into his satchel. 

…

It was childish, but Error felt faint about what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure why, but his head hurt just thinking about it. Altering appearance wasn’t something unheard of, or even really frowned about in his circles. But the magic the King had been doing was unfamiliar and strange. Not just something to alter the appearance of his magic, but something else. Something that was unnatural.

He tugged a string directly from his socket as he hung alone in the rafters, and saw the way that it hung from his fingertips. Blue, a deep one. Monster souls shouldn’t have traits, most didn’t, at least not the way human souls do. Magic, however, tends to manifest in a way that reflects its owner. Error had seen the way a white soul produced bright red magic. His own manifested as a dark blue. Integrity, he’d been told. It was reflecting on how he saw himself as well, he never gave up, he always walked his own path. Those who’d met him could certainly vouch for that. 

As far as he’d known, the King’s magic was cyan. Somewhere between Patience and Kindness, which made sense to him. The King had certainly been kind, offering him this job despite the rules, and he was patient too. Letting Error go on and on and on about his creations. He’d never doubted that those were accurate traits. Now, though? Now the King seemed to be sporting Purple. Purple was not a color which Error had ever seen from him. And it seemed the King must’ve thought the same thing of himself.

Error took a breath as he moved the string so it sat hovering between his index finger and his thumb, the ends clinging with residual, pliable, magic. With his other hand, he pinched the end nearest to his thumb and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t think about it often, but his strings were just that, made up of plenty of little threads, all woven together in just the right way which pleased Error. Texture and thickness which he liked and relied on to hold his weight, keep his projects secure, it was unlike any threads seen in the rest of the world. All his own. It’d taken him time to perfect it, though. Each new string, a new pattern and new density, until a few years ago when he’d figured it out. If he was right, though, he could mimic other styles. Other existing patterns. Other existing colors of magic.

He let his grip slide an inch or so down the string, concentrating as the fibers snapped and rearranged themselves. He furrowed his brow as he recalled the method to make a rope, the braids and twists and tension involved. Each strand felt like he was mentally moving a ten pound weight, and his concentration wavered when he realized his fingers were growing warm. Then, a few more seconds, another inch, and it felt like his fingertips would burst into flame. He hissed and opened his eyes, retracting his hand to see what sort of abomination he’d made. 

Half the string was still that familiar deep blue, but the portion near his thumb was a bright yellow. Thick, three times as thick as the blue, and with the appearance of a rope. It trembled and shook with tension, the portion where Error had given up being a strange and ugly, frayed mass of blue and yellow strands, some portions a muddled green at the exact mid-point. 

The sight made Error wince, and he pulled his fingers apart, the frayed portion snapping easily. The blue strand fell limp into his palm, while the yellow strand began to unravel. Quickly. LIttle chunks of burnt-out thread exploded like confetti, turning white or back to that blue color. It spun and spun until Error was left with little chunks of blue magic thread stuck to the fabric of his shirt and floating to the floor below him. The yellow magic he’d imbued, all the intent pushed behind it, wasn’t nearly enough to keep it steady or in place. Even if he’d finished the entire strand and burnt his fingers to do it, it wouldn’t have held up a small rock, let alone anything important. It was useless.

His little test, he realized, didn’t even cover the severity of the situation. He’d used strings, something he’d removed from his person. The King was doing that… to his own socket. 

How long had he been doing that? If Cyan wasn’t his natural magic, how much strain had he been under? For how long? 

It was none of his business, he reminded himself. The King was an adult, with a lot of advisors and strong magic users and people like Ccino. He had people who would tell him to stop. Error didn’t have the whole picture, surely. It wasn’t his place to worry about it. It just… rubbed him the wrong way. It bothered him. 

…And now he had two things to sulk about. Great. 

…

Ping

There it was again. 

Honestly, Error hadn’t expected anyone to come to see him again so soon. It’d hardly been a few hours since he attempted to visit the King, and it must’ve been dark by now. Who was coming up past dinner time? 

He eased himself down from where he’d placed himself in the rafters, and stood in front of his large door for a second, before opening it up to peek out. 

And. Outside, in the dimly lit corridor, was… The King. 

Or, at least, it looked like the King? Same clothes, same height as he’d seen earlier in the day, and his eyelight was cyan once again. Only, this time he couldn’t see the King’s expressions. He was wearing a mask. Error had to blink to process it. An owl, round and dark, with big eye holes right at the right level for the King’s sockets. It reminded Error a little bit of the fluffy owls he used to see outside his window, the ones just barely out the nest still losing their fluffy baby feathers. Was… Was it heresy to think the King was small and cute? Probably. Very absurd thought, compared to the haunting dark mass he usually was. Maybe that was why he disguised?

“Mage Error,” The King greeted, voice calm as it usually was, “I am aware that this is an impromptu visit, but may I come in? I realize I did not attend to you as I should have earlier, and I wish to rectify this mistake.” His cyan eyelight watched upwards, and Error stared down at him for a moment through the crack in the door. 

He glanced past him, too. But it seemed like the King was entirely alone. Just like he tended to be. 

Error swung open the door, pulling himself out of the way along with it. It wasn’t like he was going to say no to the King, but he wasn’t nearly as excited as usual. What should he do? Say? Obviously something was up with the King, but was Error supposed to say anything? Or was the King just here to make sure Error stayed out of trouble? Adults did that a lot back in the day when he got on their nerves. 

His thoughts persisted as the King entered the space. Error shut the door behind him and watched idly for a breath. The King was moving oddly. Like he was faint. His steps were just ever so slightly uneven and he seemed to wobble ever so slightly as he moved to sit at the unoccupied chair before Error’s desk. What was wrong with him? 

Error started moving, shifting away the items he’d once again strewn out on the floor back to the shadows of the rafters, and instead lowering a set of strings which held his hammock and a wooden board he much preferred to a table. The King watched as the items lowered, just like he always did, but the table was empty as Error hoisted himself to sit on the edge of the hammock across from the ruler. 

“You… have questions, right?” Nightmare voiced.

The King was looking at the empty surface suspended before the both of them, and Error realized he hadn’t even moved to gather his projects. For some reason he was hesitant to bring them up again. 

“Can I? Ask you stuff?” Error questioned uncertainly. “Adults usually don’t like when I start asking questions.” He admitted. 

The King looked up to him, before he sighed and nodded. “Ask anything you like.”

That was… an odd allowance. Error wasn’t used to that either. Usually the King was the one letting him talk, and talk, and talk, and his questions had never been about. Well. The King himself. Just about the knights, or the tapestries, or the food. Never about the King. 

“Why are you small?” The burning question was the one he had to get out of his head. He had theories, but the King was the only one who could confirm or deny them. 

The King was quiet for a brief second, before he brought a hand to his mask. It hovered there as he chuckled, though to Error it sounded a lot more like a giggle.

“It is a… complicated story. I’m still not quite sure myself, but I will share with you what I know as to how I came to be this way.” The King moved a hand behind his skull, tucking it beneath his hood, and tugged at a pretty silk ribbon. A purple one, Error noted. “It’s the least i can do.” 

The mask fell forward into the King’s awaiting hand, and once again Error was met by the image of that clean and soft white bone. The rounded face he didn’t recognize. His expression was neutral, schooled, careful.

“I know you are not from Orchard, nor are you familiar with the traditions of our kingdom. However, you recall the story of my upbringing, and my twin, correct?” He asked, and Error nodded. He recalled decently that there had been twin princes, the King, Nightmare, and his brother, Dream or something? He’d been asking about the tapestries and the King had told him how the two of them had grown up really close, and how he ended up with the throne in the end, banishing his twin so he wouldn’t steal the crown or something. 

“Good. Well. My coronation was not actually mine. It was that of my twin. Dream. He was the crown prince, but I had found word of a great cost to completing the ritual, and I was sure he would be hurt by the process.” The King explained. “The power of the kingdom is passed from generation to generation through the soul. Each King’s soul warps and changes, taking the shape of an apple, golden and shining with a seemingly divine magic. When my mother gave up her soul for Dream to eat, to inherit her title, I…” 

The king trailed off for a breath, and Error felt his insides twist a bit. Eating a soul? That was… a concept. Fascinating, but also he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which someone would actually follow through with it. Of course eating an entire other monster’s soul would provide a magic boost, just like when monsters absorbed human souls, or humans overloaded on magic.

“I stole it from him and completed the ritual myself.” So, maybe that was why he was sick? “The ritual, as it was meant to do, provided me with power beyond myself, yes, but it also altered my mind and physical form. I aged significantly, something I had always assumed was due to the overwhelming force of the gifted magic. In a matter of moments I was old, my mind more clear and sharp. The way you knew me before was the shape I was meant to hold. That I expected to stay.” The King rubbed a hand against his good socket, the other gently resting over the mask sat on his lap. “Several weeks ago, I collapsed. And when I awoke, I had taken on this form again, and it seems my mind is reverted as well. Both have returned, aside from my memories, back to the exact condition that they were on the day of my coronation. So, I find myself back in my youth, and small as a result.”

He seemed to pause for a second, before puffing a sigh, “Or, almost the exact condition. It seems a wound I suffered the same day didn’t ever quite heal.” He ghosted over his empty socket and the cracks running up and out of sight beneath his hood.

Error stared at him a second, and he blinked in confusion. That was a lot of wacky magic shenanigans, and that was coming from him of all monsters, but he was processing something that had been glossed over.

“Wait, so how old are you?” Error questioned, confused.

The King blinked at his question, before Error caught sight of something he didn’t quite expect to see today. A slight lavender blush dusted the King’s cheekbones. Error’s not even sure the King noticed he’d done it. 

“That’s a… tricky question I’ve been trying to decipher. However, as far as my development and mental state are concerned, I regrettably appear to be 13.” 

The King seemed ashamed to admit it, but Error found his mind working a bit faster than he’d meant it to be. The weak aura, the weird magic, the short height, the baby face, the higher voice, all of it! He’d heard of cases like this. Not usually between monsters, but often when monsters would overtake too much magic, or too many supplements, or strain their bodies, they could take on a higher form before reverting. Usually it only affected the amount of magic they could harness, and no one had ever sustained one long enough to actually age before releasing it, but it wasn’t an impossible idea. If the King had been operating on borrowed magic? It was entirely possible that there was a sort of stasis provided to him. Especially since Error was pretty sure he never ever got hurt. 

Part of him wished he’d paid more attention to the books on the shelves back home. His brother would eat this up. Soul-based research with an abnormally long-lasting period? Oh boy…

“That’s cool!” Error blurted without really thinking about it. 

The King seemed to actually flinch about it, cyan eyelight looking wide at Error form across the makeshift table. 

“I- What do you mean?” The King questioned, obviously confused and shocked. 

Error frowned a bit. Did the King really not realize how much skill that takes to pull something like that amount of magic transfer off? Error’s not even sure he could do something like that, and all without losing himself to this other invasive magic?

“King Nightmare, it sounds like you were a torch holding a really really hot fire and you didn’t even get burnt. I’ve never heard of someone using magic like that.” And he blinked as he suddenly perked up, “You’re young too! We’re like each other! Doing cool new magic things that no one wanted us to do! Well, I mean, you want me to do it, but- That’s not the point!” 

Error actually leaned forward a bit so his elbows planted on his knees, and he squinted at the King. “I bet I’m older now too, that’d be really cool. What season is your birthday?” He’d not seen the King celebrate his birthday since he’d been there, but then again, the King was always busy, and Error didn’t pay attention much. 

The King seemed taken aback, but still spoke, “My birthday is in the spring, but-”

Error lit up at that, “Yes! I am older!” he exclaimed excitedly to himself. He’d never had anyone younger than him to hang around before! Granted, he’d met other kids at the academy, but they hadn’t liked him much. 

His grinning was cut a bit short when the King stammered from the seat across from him again. 

“Mage Error, I- I’m glad to see this news isn’t distressing you, but I please ask you to consider my next few words.” The King was watching him, and Error tried to tone down the smile gracing his face. “News of my… state is not being circulated just yet. Orchard is still recovering from centuries of mistreatment under my bloodline’s rule, and I am nowhere near to being able to restore the kingdom as I had planned. My goals will likely only bring more turmoil and frustration to the people, and while assassinations and other sabotage have rarely graced these halls, if word gets out of my newfound weakened form? This castle, this entire kingdom, could be thrown to chaos.” The King’s tone was very serious, and it sounded tired. “You, Error, are not officially my mage, but to prying eyes your studies here fill that same purpose. I was willing to take you in when I was sure I had the power to protect you, but I can’t provide that security any more.”

“Before I came here, I reviewed our contract. At the loss of my protection, you are welcome to request an indefinite leave of absence from the position, and I will have one of my knights accompany you anywhere you wish to go and ensure you arrive safely. I do not want to put you in danger due to my search for reform. You have no obligations to stay in this place nor risk your life for it.” The King’s voice was steady as he said it. “You do not have to give me an answer this moment, but I needed to inform you so that you have a full understanding of your options.” 

Error’s grin had faded about halfway through the King’s speech, and he could already feel the fuzzy numbness creeping up one of his legs as he tried to keep himself from lashing out. Dust had talked to him about that. His reactiveness. 

“King Nightmare, I’m not going anywhere.” he declared, crossing his arms with a huff. “That dumb contract you made me read also said I can stay as long as I want the position. And I want the position.” And the food, and the tower, and the courtyard, and the knights, and the King who listened to him talk about his explosives. “I don’t care if you’re short or have purple magic or whatever,” the King flinched at that, “ You’re still really smart and you have a bunch of really strong people you’re in charge of. Including me, by the way.” 

He was almost offended. He was strong! He was dangerous! The King had always praised him for ingenuity and sheer force of will placed behind each of his projects, and Error took pride in that. He was strong, and powerful, and he wanted to do fun experiments and help the King. Almost more now that he knew that the King was some twig of a monster. Now he didn’t have to worry about lame old people bossing him around. 

The King seemed to lean forward ever so slightly in the chair he was sat in, and Error didn’t shy away. If this was a battle of the wills, he wouldn’t be-

A sniffle. 

Error jolted when the King pulled his hands up to his skull and hastily dragged his sleeves against his sockets. Was he crying??

“Ah- Forgive me!” The King said in a small voice, “Emotional regulation, another damning loss from my sudden form alteration. I’ve been lucky I hadn’t embarrassed myself sooner.” He practically teased himself. 

Error let his body stop tensing, and he noticed the uncomfortable fuzzy feeling had fled in the aftermath of his bold declaration. If he’d had any doubts before that this King was actually as he said, this was the final sign. The King had never showed so much emotion before. 

“I think it’s fine. I get mad all the time and you never mind.” Error voiced, though he wasn’t sure how welcome it would be. 

At that the king laughed, and Error grinned to himself, looking away from the scene. He didn’t like it when people saw him cry. He understood that one all too well. 

A silence fell between them. Error wasn’t going anywhere, he’d made that abundantly clear. The King wouldn’t be sending him away, either. It went unsaid, but it was there in the agreement they’d made just hardly a year prior. The King never went back on his deals.

“Mage Error, I believe you wanted to show me something earlier. Now that it is dark, I believe I would be willing to have Horror accompany us out to the courtyard so I may observe.” 

Error glanced back to the King, and saw that he was looking up at the darkened ceiling. As though trying to predict when a string would lower down his newest creations. 

“Oh, actually I bet we can do it here. From the balcony, I mean. It goes up into the sky, so it shouldn’t hurt anything.” he said, his excitement gaining momentum once again. “I actually made test ones this time too, just to make sure!” 

Error swung backwards out of his hammock, and let the strings above him loosen to drop the item into his awaiting hands. 

The King rose from his seat, walking a bit strangely still, but nothing which bothered Error much. He was more interested in the curious face of his ruler as he approached Error near the balcony exit. Error wasn’t one to use his balcony often, he didn’t even have strings set up to pull the curtains aside, so he lifted one back so that the King could pass by, and he followed himself shortly after. 

The balcony was a thick one, reinforced underneath by large wooden and stone beams, the railing thick enough that one could sit along it like a high-stakes bench. Error did just that, pulling himself up so his feet dangled over the edge. The King remained back, hood pulled tight to his skull as the night winds attempted to tug it away from him. It took a few moments before he joined Error near to the edge, leaning on the balcony which was just ever so slightly too tall for him. His arms rested at chin-height and he seemed to be debating whether to rest his chin on them like an arm rest. 

Error watched from over his shoulder, and grinned to himself as he secured the little invention with his strings before holding it out for the King to see in the moonlight that illuminated the darkness. Them, the castle grounds below, the mountainside and the sprawling hills and valleys beyond. 

“I’ve seen people make these before with gun-powder, they always glowed red, though. So I infused some magic into the canister and the projectiles, and they should do something fun.” Error explained excitedly, pointing out different locations on the thing held in his strings. Long, slender, a mix between a crossbow and a cannon, but tiny. Only the length of his forearm. “Best thing, it should be quiet!” He’d noticed that some of the knights didn’t like when his explosions made loud noises, and a lot of guards came rushing the first few times he’d set off his creations. 

The King examined it for a few moments longer, before he nodded silently. 

Error snickered before he pulled it back into his grip and aimed it up and out. Away from the tower, where it should’ve been just over the large, round, open space in the center of the castle. High in the sky. 

He shifted, dragging his fingers along the surface, the long portion lighting up and flinging something from the end of the device. A little ball of pure white. Up, up, up.

It exploded. 

Error laughed in triumph as the night sky above the palace was set ablaze with a collection of little shimmering lights, like falling stars in all shades of blue and green and purple and white flying everywhere before going dark. His eyelights shot back to the King as he loaded the next round, and he was delighted to see that the single cyan eyelight was plastered on the smoky after-effect left by the burning magic. He desperately wanted to start telling the King all about how he’d done such a genius thing, but he found himself simply hefting the little device up once again and firing into the open darkness instead.

[runawaymun]

this is your reminder that sometimes evil phone calls are necessary to fix problems because stuff is genuinely human error which AI answering machines and phone apps don't know how to fix. Pain and suffering on planet earth. ✌️

[mossyinkynebulous]

I present to you some Error doodles

Error belongs to Loverofpiggies

Closeups under cut

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Winter Flu

"Absolutely not, Potter," Draco said, trying to close his door in Harry's face.

Harry laughed, "Stop being ridiculous," he said, pushing at the door to Draco's room.

"I'm not," he said, "while I appreciate that it is our tradition to grade papers together on Friday night before we watch a movie, I cannot take that chance today."

"Draco-"

"No," he said again. "Matilda Bagweather has that horrible winter flu and you didn't have the good sense to send her out of your classroom. You've exposed yourself to it and I'm not interested in getting sick."

The door closed firmly in his face and Harry sighed, letting his forehead drop against the door. This couldn't be happening to him. Not today. Not when he'd planned to-

"Draco," he called, knocking on the door again.

"Go away, Potter!"

"I brought a Christmas movie," he cajoled. "You're really going to like this one." He was certain about White Christmas, Draco was a sucker for cheesy love stories.

The door opened a crack and Harry wiggled the DVD so he could see it. "Are you feeling any symptoms? Any scratchiness of throat, tickling in the ears, are your eyes watering?"

He rolled his eyes, "I feel fine. I feel great, actually. I just wanted to watch this movie with you."

Draco debated for a moment, Harry could see it playing out on his face, then after what felt like an eternity, the door fell open. "Fine. But you're sitting at the other end of the sofa."

-----

An hour into the movie and Draco's head was where it always ended up, in Harry's lap. And Harry certainly wasn't complaining. He combed his fingers through Draco's hair, scratching lightly at Draco's scalp with his nails, like he knew Draco enjoyed from a great deal of trial and error.

He'd slipped right into Harry's lap as he argued with the movie:

"Why is she upset?" "Why wouldn't she just talk to him!" "For Cirice's sake, getting engaged isn't going to help!" "Do you see now what could have been avoided if you'd just talked to him, you silly woman?"

But none of the ranting stopped Draco from tearing up when the General stepped into the room and everyone started applauding.

He sat up and reached for a tissue on the table, sniffling and hair askew from Harry's fingers, and Harry loved him and loved him and loved him. Godric it wasn't healthy to love someone this much. To want nothing more than to look at them and make them happy.

"I don't know why they always have to be so emotional," Draco said, turning to look at Harry. "What?" he asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'd just really like to kiss you," he said because he'd decided that tonight was the night. No more waiting, no more holding his feelings in. It wasn't quite how he'd planned it but it would do.

"What?"

Harry shrugged unrepentantly, "I would like to kiss you," he repeated.

"Well then why haven't you?" Draco asked, sounding affronted now.

He laughed, "Well I thought I'd get your approval first."

"You have it," Draco said, "so what are you waiting for? Do I have to do everything my-"

Harry leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet, making the butterflies in his belly take flight all around his body.

"Oh," Draco breathed when Harry drew back. "I think you should do that again."

He grinned and cupped the back of Draco's head as he leaned in to kiss him once more. When he moved away he murmured, "You're missing the ending."

Draco blinked at him and Harry nodded to the screen as the barn doors opened and the snow appeared like a backdrop. Draco leaned back against Harry and Harry wrapped an arm around him, drawing him even closer.

When the movie finished, Harry squeezed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he shifted and stood up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He grinned and leaned down to press a soft, short kiss to Draco's lips once more. "My own room."

Draco raised an imperious eyebrow but Harry spoke up first.

"I want to do this right," he said softly. "I want to woo you, I want you to feel pursued. I want this to be something that lasts."

Draco blinked up at him, that guarded part of him falling away, leaving him looking young and unbearably sweet.

"You're too important to me to rush this. So," he said with a fortifying nod, "I'm going to give you one more kiss, and then I'm going to leave." He nudged Draco's foot with his own, "but before I do, I wanted to ask, would you come with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"Like a date?"

"Yes, Professor Malfoy, exactly like a date."

He smiled and stood up, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, "Yes," he murmured, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "I'd love to."

----------

By the time the two of them did get the Winter Flu six weeks later, they were both all too happy to spend the time cocooned in a room, watching movies together while they recovered.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hiii! Your headcanons and memes are absolutely funny, I think this request fits you.

So instead of dog or cat (Husker) Wife reader saw her Husband walking around with the egg boys, and she pulls out the '🥺can we keep one?' and would like ABSOLUTELY not take no for an answer, she even pulls out a new dress for the egg boi to differentiate him from the other eggs.

I loved those goofy eggs so much 😭

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a jealous husband, Alastor being possessive of wife!reader's attention

Description: ☝️⬆️

Okay, so it's bad enough that Alastor is stuck dealing with the eggs and he's not even allowed to crack a few of them

And he's totally not annoyed with the way your eyes lit up, and you immediately started cooing over them the moment you saw them

Of course the clumsy little things just ate it up, flexing and showing off for you, even going so far as to climb into your outstretched arms

So now they're stealing his wife from him? Those eggs have crossed a line

He skipped breakfast for this?

Alastor knows he needs to keep them away from you to keep you from getting more attached than you already are

So at the sacrifice of his own needs for your attention, Alastor makes sure to keep the eggs far away from you by keeping them close to him

Even at the cost of his sanity

Alastor hadn't even realized he left one of them behind until he came back to the hotel to find you holding one like a baby

And the little imbecile is just soaking up the attention too, blissfully unaware of the error he just made

Not even Sir Pentious can get the egg to willingly leave your embrace, the little thing stubbornly clinging to you

"No! You can't sssstay with her! You're my little egg! My minion!"

It takes much coaxing from you to get the egg to leave your side but that's far from the end of it

Every morning afterwards the egg is bursting into the bedroom and crawling into bed with the two of you

Instead of waking up to your sleepy affection, Alastor is waking up to that stupid egg babbling off to you about everything and anything

Not him shoving the egg boy off the bed and tugging you against him

Alastor eats nothing but eggs for breakfasts for the next week, there's something therapeutic about cracking them that he just can't quite put his finger on

Oh wait-yes he can

He hopes that you'll get sick of the egg boy eventually, but then you start dressing the egg up, differentiating it from the others

"Alastor look! Doesn't he look darling? He's a mini you~!"

You don't notice your husband's eye twitching

You baby that egg more than you've ever babied him and he's definitely getting jealous

He just about snaps when he hears you and Sir Pentious talking about you keeping the little egg

"Aren't you a little old for those 'egg baby' projects, my dear? You're not in school anymore."

"Oh, please, Alastor! Can't we keep him? He's already so attached to me and I just adore him! I've already named him!"

"Um...Y/N...they already have namesssss..."

"I do?"

Somehow, he manages to convince you that you don't need to keep the egg but it's by the skin of his teeth

And it doesn't stop you from spending every waking moment spoiling the egg

That should be him being spoiled by you

He starts trying to intimidate the egg whenever you aren't around but the little thing is too dense to understand it

"I wouldn't follow Y/N so closely up those stairs, one wrong step and it would be quite the nasty fall for someone as fragile as you."

"Thanks Boss!"

Not Alastor trying to crack him whenever you look away

Purposefully opening doors a little too hard in hopes that your egg is on the other side

Using his staff to nudge him out an open window...

Finding extremely dangerous tasks for the egg to do only to be disappointed when he comes back unharmed

Developing a sudden interest in baking extremely large cakes

Alastor, honey, come on...that last one wasn't even subtle

Bottom line, if you care about the egg boy then you better give him back to Sir Pentious because he won't be safe around your husband

It's an emotional goodbye but Alastor's happiness at having your attention again is worth it

It's not like you won't still see each other around the hotel, chill

He's a terribly needy man when it comes to your attention but it's just part of his charm

I LOVE THESE LITTLE GUYS

[earthchica]

Try Again

terry richmond x black fem! reader

summary: you making your ex-boyfriend, Terry, jealous at a party.

warning: explicit smut (18+), jealousy, breakup to makeup, made-up characters, use of the n-word, spanking kink, choking, unprotected rough sex, dirty talking, creampie, slight daddy kink, foreplay, pet names (baby girl, baby)

note: That's right back with another Terry fic. Oh...lord, this man got me😍....anyway...I hope y'all enjoy it. There might be some errors.

-

Your relationship with Terry started lowkey chill and then became deeper than love.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly clear that you two wanted different things, ultimately resulting in a breakup.

It's been a long and agonizing three months, and instead of feeling better, the ache in your heart has only got worse.

Your yearning for him consumed you. You missed his smile, tender kisses, his cooking, and, oh, his warm hugs.

You missed everything about him and always wondered if it was the right decision to end the relationship.

Neither of you genuinely fought to save it; you just gave up too quickly.

You sat by the window, sighing, while drinking a warm cup of tea to comfort yourself.

The melancholy melody of music played softly in the background, adding to the reflective atmosphere.

Your phone vibrated, and you quickly reached for it to see who it was.

The caller was Aria; she and her boyfriend, Lance, are mutual friends between you and Terry.

She texted to express how much she missed you and extended an invitation to her house party.

You texted her that you also missed her and had to think about coming to the party.

She sent multiple texts in response, pleading and desperately urging you to come.

You agreed to attend and couldn't resist texting to ask whether Terry would be there.

Of course, she responded with a simple "Yes," confirming your question.

Then, you inquired if he was bringing someone else, and she replied, "Not sure."

You hoped he wasn't because the idea of him being with another girl was something you couldn't handle.

-

When you arrived at Aria and Lance's house, the vibrant party sounds greeted you.

The music reverberated through the air, and the energetic movements of the guests on the dance floor painted a vibe.

You looked at yourself in front of a small mirror near the entrance, fixing the sexy freakum dress that accentuated your curves and your silk-pressed hair that cascaded down your shoulders.

You paused to take a deep breath before stepping into the big living room.

As you walked by, a few men cast admiring glances in your direction.

Your eyes landed on Aria, and with a rush of excitement, you made a beeline for her, enveloping her in a warm, tight hug.

It had been far too long since you last saw her. After the breakup with Terry, you distanced yourself away from your friend.

"Oh my god {….......} you look so good." She gracefully twirls you around, evoking hearty giggles as you playfully showcase your figure.

"Thank you. You look so good, too, girl. And are you glowing? I see someone getting some good dick, huh?" You asked, observing her, which elicited a giggle from her.

"You know it, boo! That man knows how to put it on me. Ugh, I miss this...I miss you...come on, let's talk," Aria states, taking hold of your arm.

As you and Aria chatted comfortably on the couch, enjoying a great time, you noticed Terry conversing with Lance and a few other guys.

You were about to avert your gaze when a young, petite woman with a caramel-brown complexion, and long, luscious 4A curls approached Terry.

You tried your best to read her lips, she gracefully asked Terry if he wanted to dance, and his friends encouraged him to dance with her.

The surge of jealousy bubbled up within you, causing a knot in the pit of your stomach.

Despite taking a deep breath and turning back to Aria who was rambling about something.

You couldn't resist looking back at them and locked eyes with Terry. averted your gaze, but from the corner of your eye.

You noticed him striding towards you, and a sense of panic grew.

Aria was quick to sense your unease. "You good, sis?" she asked, and you nodded.

You tried to ignore his approach, but you heard his sexy, deep voice, and you almost lost.

"Hey," he greeted with his charming smile. You couldn't fathom why he had abandoned the girl on the dance floor to approach you.

You just gave him a nod.

Aria left, giving you and Terry some privacy to talk, and went to Lance.

Terry's imposing figure loomed larger than you remembered, his taut muscles accentuated by the snug fit of his shirt.

Feeling uneasy and irritated, you averted your gaze, fixating on your hands instead of meeting his eyes.

"You ain't gonna say hi to me?" Terry leaned in with a mischievous grin, his teasing tone lacing the air as he settled next to you on the couch.

"Why should I?" you replied, looking everywhere but him. His pretty grayish-blue eyes were unwavering and completely focused on you.

He was wondering what was swirling around in that pretty little head of yours.

"What?" you asked, eyes finally meeting his with confusion and curiosity.

A smirk graced his lips before he began to speak.

"You look gorgeous," he said, his words dripping with insincerity, igniting anger within you.

How dare he come over here looking fine as hell, complimenting you, and shit.

When he was just dancing with another bitch?

"Terry, don’t. Why are you over here? Where's your little girlfriend?" you asked with slight irritation and bitterness.

Terry smirked again, about to say something, but his sentence was abruptly halted by the sudden approach of a tall, strikingly handsome, dark-skinned man.

"Hey," He greeted, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours as he introduced himself. 

"I’m Jackson. Sorry...to interrupt...are you two together?" he asked, his eyes filled with hope, silently pleading for my response to be a no.

You noticed Terry's annoyance with Jackson’s presence and couldn't help but devise a mischievous plan in your mind.

You responded, "No," with a playful smile before locking eyes with Terry, who wore a disapproving frown.

Jackson nodded with a charming grin and asked if you wanted to dance.

"I'd love to, Jackson," you replied with a smile, intertwining your fingers with his and strolling gracefully toward the dance floor.

You couldn't help but feel Terry's burning gaze boring into the back of your head.

The next song starts to play—it was Beyonce. Jackson pulls you close to him. Wrap your arms around his neck as you dance against each other, hips moving in sync.

As the music played loud in the background, Jackson leaned in and whispered a flirtatious remark into your ear.

You turned in Jackson's strong embrace, feeling the warmth of his body as your ass pressed firmly against his crotch.

You slung one arm around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Jackson's lips delicately grazed against your dark-brown skin.

You could tell that Terry noticed and was unable to handle that. He abruptly stood up, causing a few nearby to startle.

Terry strode purposefully toward the two of you, and the crowd instinctively parted as they saw the intense, angry expression etched on his face.

The tension was palpable as he came to a halt in front of both of you, emitting a low, menacing snarl as a warning to back off. Jackson swiftly positioned himself in front of you.

As he stood there, nearly matching Terry's height, the atmosphere grew tense, and it was unsettling to witness the fight between the two formidable men.

"Let's go," Terry says to you, reaching out to grab your arm, but Jackson intervenes and pushes him away before he can.

"Hold on, bruh," Jackson exclaimed, his voice irritated.

"She doesn't have to go anywhere with you. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Terry clenched his fists, ready to swing on bra. You quickly stepped between them to prevent the situation from escalating.

"Stop, let's go, Terry. Jackson...thank you for the dance," you said, gently guiding Terry into a secluded room.

-

Terry was pacing back and forth, struggling to calm down. You tried to capture his attention by repeatedly calling his name, but he ignored you.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you asked, annoyance evident in your tone. He immediately halted his pacing and fixed his gaze on you.

"What is my problem? No, what the fuck is your problem? Huh," Terry asked with his deep voice.

"Dancing with that muthafucka when I'm sitting right in front of you." He yelled, frustratingly pointing.

"First of all...The last time I checked, I was single and could dance with whoever the fuck. And second of all, why do you even fucking care, huh? Weren't you dancing with another bitch?" You pressed, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest.

"I barely dance with the fucking girl, you went out of your way to grind and let the nigga kiss you on and shit just to get a reaction out of me."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of defeat, realizing he had figured you out. You shouldn't be surprised with his ex-marine ass.

"You know what...fuck you. I'm out of here, " You were about to walk away, but Terry firmly grasped your arm to prevent you from leaving.

"Nah...you ain't fucking running like you always do. We're going to talk," Terry's voice echoed through the room.

"There's nothing to talk about, Terry. Now let me go," You yelled, straining to break free from his grasp, but his strength was overpowering.

"Don't you get it? I can't; not again," He stated intensely, causing you to stop comprehending his intended message abruptly.

"I tried to move on, I tried to get you out of my fucking head, baby girl....but..." He began but paused to gather his thoughts.

"But what? Terry," you said, shifting your gaze back and forth between his eyes, feeling his tight grip on your arm gradually loosen.

"I still love you, and I want you back." Terry's eyes bore into yours, a complex blend of love and frustration evident in his gaze. You pressed your lips against his lips without a word.

"I still love you too, Terry. I miss you so damn much. I'm sorry" You said, pulling away from the intense, passionate kiss.

"I miss you too, baby. Let's get out of here...so we can properly talk." He said, taking your hand gently and guiding you out of the room.

The warmth of his touch sends a comforting sensation through your body.

You exchanged byes with Aria and Lance, noticing their happy, knowing look as you both left the party.

-

As you both arrived at his place, the atmosphere was charged with sexual tension.

You two were supposed to talk, but the words faded into the background as the air crackled with the electricity of desire, and want.

You both were kissing, tongues dancing with each other while practically ripping each other's clothes off.

Terry's hold was firm as he lifted you to the edge of the bed. His body shifts between your legs.

He tilts his head to kiss you once more, his caress exuding a bit of roughness and fervor.

Terry moves to begin kissing your neck while slowly grasping your plump breasts and squeezing them.

You loved the way his thickness was touching the inner of your thigh.

Terry flipped you swiftly on your stomach to get a better view of your ass. You gasped, felt the sting of a sudden slap to your ass.

You turned your head to look at him, and his face lit up with a wide, mischievous grin.

"You thought you were off the hook, huh?" He asked, waiting for an answer.

You were on the verge of speaking, but all that came out was a groan as he landed another stinging slap to your ass.

"Daddy!" You whined, looking back at him.

"No...I gotta give you a little punishment after that little stunt," He says, sliding the tip of his dick up and down the wet slit of your pussy to tease you.

"Daddy, please. I'm sorry it will never happen again...I promise," you cried desperately.

"You bet your ass it ain't. Cause all kill a muthafucka." He says, stopping for a second before giving you a few stinging slaps on your ass.

"You're mine, baby! No one else, you got that?" His deep, husky voice reverberated as he leaned in and softly whispered into your ear.

"I'm yours, Daddy. I'm all yours. Please," You agreed, looking into his eyes.

He smiled before kissing you and roughly thrusting his dick inside of you.

You both shared a moan; he let go of your neck to grab at your hips while you held onto the sheets for dear life while he began with a few slow thrusted.

Terry chucked at your speechless whines, practically begging him to go faster.

"Come on, baby girl. Use your words for me.” his deep voice teases as his hips continue their slow thrusts.

"Faster, please. N-Need you to go faster, Need you to fuck me like you miss this pussy," You huffed out the words finally.

You suddenly felt the touch of his hand on your back to arch a little before his thrust got quicker.

"I do miss this pussy, this sweet tight pussy. Like this, baby girl?" He asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

"Yes, daddy. Just like that…oh fuck" you nodded with a moan as the slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the room.

Fuck, you missed this; you missed his delicious dick, missed feeling every inch of his dick hitting your sweet spot.

Terry slapped your ass a few times before grabbing a hand full of it to thrust in a slight angle.

You look back at him with deep pleasure expressed on your face as you grasp his wrist to thrust into him, which he always used to like a lot.

"Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Swear this sweet pussy was only made for me." He grunts, giving your ass another slap before getting on the bed in the spoon position, with you slightly facing him.

Terry kisses you, continuing to thrust hard into you while holding your neck.

You cried muffledly into the kiss, feeling him slap your cunt before rubbing circles over your clit.

His thrusts grow sloppier, losing himself to the great pleasure he’s feeling.

Terry missed you, your eyes, your smile, and the intimate moment you two had.

"I fucking love you, girl. Gonna fill up this pretty pussy...would you like that, baby" He asked, looking into your eyes intensely.

"Yes...I want it; I want to feel it all, Daddy. Fill me up," you moaned with a nod.

Terry picked up the paces again, balls hit your cunt hard, which ultimately sends you over the edge.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" You cried, orgasming so hard. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, climax rushed over your body with a jolt.

"Shhh...I got you, baby," He says, pulling out for a second to move you to ride him, thrusting back inside to catch his own release.

You managed to calm down a bit from your high and assist Terry in getting his release.

You bite your lip, matching the rhythm of his thrust. Your pussy slightly gripped him tightly like a glove, which drove him crazy.

"Fuck...baby girl...that's it....help your daddy....just like that," Terry grunts, eyes rolling in the back of his head while gripping your waist for dear life.

"Mmm...I'm the only one that makes you feel like this, right, Daddy" You asked, leveling yourself on his chest as you bounce on his dick faster.

"Fuck...yes baby....the only one...you're so good to me...fuck, I'm gonna...." He grunts, feeling him fill you up with the hot spurts of his cum.

His breath jerks and lifts you a little to pull out and watch his cum drip from your pussy.

"Didn't I tell you I was gonna fill you up, baby?" he asked weary, smugly, and you nodded in response.

After Terry cleaned you up, you were lying beside each other, staring into each other's eyes.

"Hey, I know we have a lot of shit to figure out, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make it work again," he said, caressing your face.

A warm smile spreads across your face; you love this man with every fiber of your being.

His ability to transition from a lustfully filthy tone to an irresistibly tender, gentle tone was incredible.

"Me too, Terry," you said, and he smiled, pulling you into a kiss filled with hope and love.

[bunny-jpeg]

hiii ! how are u? I would like to order a pastry braid and english muffin with a side of tonic water, w max verstappen

thank uu x

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of things to choose from. i am working through the suggestions after a slight break so i will be posting them more often. updates usually go up fridays to sundays at 6pm est! i hope you enjoy this little fic! this is set in the team principal au (which usually happens with a max age gap fic) but it's not connected to the rest of the tp au that i have going, just it's own little thing! <3

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." + english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?" + tonic water: age gap served by max verstappen (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, tp!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), crying (kink), rough sex, power dynamics, doggy style, max has high expectations for his driver, degrading language, possessive behavior

insatiable. that was what max would describe himself in relation to you. what he was when you were near. he was hungry for trophies, wins and most of all your sweet cunt. max had expected to leave the track years ago, but how could he? he had a re purpose, to make you a champion.

but even wills made of iron couldn't deny your appeal. how you looked in your fire proofs, the look you got when you lost of received a plenty, and the opposite look you gave when you tasted sweet victory. if max was the lion, then you were the wolf.

regardless, max still held power over you and you when he held your cheeks in one hand to face him, a domineering look in his eyes. he held you like he owned you, and with all those zeroes on your contract. he did in a way.

his arms wrapped around you and held you to his chest. in a moment of private after the grand prix, he held you the way a lover would. he couldn't help but take a quick grab of your breasts. you wined in response and max simply smiled.

"not the best," he said in your ear, "i counter five errors in your driving, on top of letting the williams' driver over take you for ten laps. i'm sorry, my price, you know what that means."

you nodded, "yes, sir. i understand." then shifted a little in his touch which only made him hold onto you tighter. you swallowed, even though you won the trophy, tonight wouldn't be about celebrating. it would be about punishment.

max's hotel room was next to yours, and you barely closed the door before he was trying to get your t-shirt off. large hands groped your breasts over your bras and he groaned into your neck.

"fuck, baby." he said, tension in his voice, "you could've been celebrating with the team, but instead you have to deal with the punishments." he pulled your bra over your head and grabbed your chest.

max liked your breasts, he loved how easy the skin bruised when he gave them too much attention. you ended up on the bed with max stripping you of your calvin klein jeans. he saw your exposed thighs, and the tattoo on your hip. lucky number thirty-three. max's old number.

he did have a claim over you, the kind of claim that not even a scandal could break. oh the media circus that would ensue if people found out about you two. if they found out you were fucking max, then max guessed he'd just have to marry you. not a big deal, he had a ring picked out and everything.

"you know what we have to do tonight. your job is to make me cum. now get to work." and soon your panties were pulled off and left on the edge of the bed. he started to strip himself down.

while your face in the pillows and your couldn't see your team principal, you could feel him. the soft of imposing power that left you feeling needy.

"i expect the best from you. you know that. i don't deal with those who aren't willing to push themselves to the best they can be. i know, you can easily be the best. but, i guess there is still a lot i have to teach you." max wasn't like this with any other driver, even if you retired tomorrow, you'd still be his favourite.

he admired your beauty with strokes of his cock. usually there would be a spanking, teasing or maybe a little bondage, but max was still running off the high of racing and he wanted you now. he sank his cock into you like it was his god given right. he was near double your age, but he still fucked you until you were an overstimulated mess.

you whined from the intrusion, you felt sharp pain. max wasn't small by any means. he was rather bulky, the kind of cock that bullied your insides. you felt a shiver of pain as you moaned into the sheets.

"aw, is someone crying?" his words were patronizing as he moved against you quickly. his stamina was still high, he fucked with the force of a bull that often left you feeling bruised inside and out. he had that ability over you. you leave you completely and utterly at his his mercy.

you swallowed, "not crying, sir." and arched your back, but max had you pressed against the bed. his pace only picked up as he rutted up against you.

the thing about max was that he was dominate. and you loved the power he had over you. he easily took you apart and let him make you feel like jelly as he fucked into you.

"you look better on my cock than in a car." he remarked, "better on your knees than the podium." he added as pleasure clouded his head. his thoughts were about how good you felt. how you clenched around him when he hit your g-spot.

you whined and sniffled a little from the ache. you weren't crying. rather whining from the intense feeling. the ache and the pleasure left your nerves feeling tense. you gasped when he hit a particular spot.

max loved when you whined, especially when there were sweet little tears in your ears. his little wolf all teary-eyed because he made you feel too good.

he pace continued and you felt on cloud nine, you sniffles continued and you were left needy for more. it was always more, you always needed more of him. something that max was more than happy to deliver on. how could he deny his driver. even when he thought you did poorly, he still had a soft spot for you.

"mmm, see you're good like this. i could just eat you alive. take you piece by piece. all mind." he chuckled with warmth in his gut, "next time you'll listen to me over the radio and in the garage." he arched your back further and made you feel the zap of pleasure up your spine and in your core.

having your team principal's support meant the world to you, even when you were panting and near crying under him. the pleasure climbed through your body and you felt the surge of want through you.

"please, sir." you arched your back further and your pulse picked up. face buried in the soft pillows while you let your boss fuck you with a heated drive.

he grasped the back of your head and pulled your head further into the pillows and his pace quickened, "you're forgiven. let this not be a lesson you forget." and continued to move against you, fucking you right into the mattress with heavy thrusts of his hips.

he yanked your hair a little and it amde you moan. only he could get away with something like that. yank, bite, slip, no other man could get away with that. but you gave max everything.

the movements continued and you felt amazing. the type of amazing that allowed you to feel to close to orgasm. you tensed up and felt the sweet release as you came. you needed max, you needed him in a way you could never need another.

your boss, your lover, your everything.

his movements left you needy and it wasn't long before you moaned loudly once more around his cock. the pleasure continued to wash through you like heavy waves. and it only made your lover fuck you quicker. max moved against you, near bounced you up and down on his cock. his noises were tense before he slammed every inch into you and finished.

"oh fuck." he groaned.

you gasped and weakly held onto the covers. you couldn't think of anything else besides max. max, max, max, he was the only thought in your head as he slowed to a stop. and then laid on top of you. he rutted his still hard cock into you which made you groan.

"i think there are a few more lessons i could teach you tonight before i really wear you out." those words were said like a promise <3

[brawberryz]

the present does not exist, time is an illusion, buy gold!

Batfam × neglected Bill Cipher! Reader

《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Imagine that you were neglected throughout your life, it was really something that you cared very little about

The people who knew you told you that you were a genius, that with your intelligence you could change the world, everyone noticed your talents except your family

While you believed you began to be interested in creatures that for some were not real or just myths, you faced many creatures that almost killed you, but no one noticed when you mysteriously disappeared to go to the Gotham forest to see those fantastic creatures

Over time you wrote a diary where you noted all the anomalies of Gotham, some more dangerous than others

Everything was going well until you discovered HIM, Bill Cipher the God of Chaos

You met him while visiting an abandoned library, I found that strange book where he recounted his powers, while you were reading you saw that on the last pages it was written in blood letters

"DO NOT SUMMON"

For many that would have been a great warning but for It was a sign for you, you started to get more interested in this guy called Bill

You started to investigate and look for something that would tell you more about this strange but interesting being

After months of research and failed invocations you were finally able to meet him as a person

"Well, well, well, uhh it's been a while since I was summoned"

Bill said without realizing that you were about to faint, it worked...IT WORKED!

After hard months you were able to summon him, it felt like you had won some important prize

"Ahem, uh...hello, Bill?"

You hesitated a little as you spoke, you read that this entity was very dangerous and could easily end entire universes if it so desired

"Oh, hello strange human! Then with whom do I have the honor?"

Bill said as he floated around you

"I'm (name)...(name) Wayne"

You couldn't believe it was really happening, those days without sleep and researching without stopping were worth it

You had so many questions to ask this Bill, it wasn't every day you could summon an all-powerful god

"Nice name, strange human"

Bill spoke with a mocking tone as he looked at you with his one eye, from the first time he saw you he knew you had something special, your intelligence was unmatched by anyone, you reminded him of Stanford, although he could say that you are much smarter than Stan

This was going to be fun, maybe you're the piece he was missing to be able to free his dimension again

And luckily for him, no one was going to stop it this time

From that moment on, your strange friendship with Bill began

You let him use your body and control you, in exchange he showed you the secrets of the universe and gave you information that no one had ever heard before

But not everything was perfect, every time Bill used your body he ended up doing stupid things, like jumping off the damn stairs and hitting a policeman

Among other crimes that for some strange reason no one in your family found out about

He also did other stupid things like getting a tattoo on your ribs that you will regret for the rest of your life

After a while your bond began to grow stronger, or so you thought

How stupid you were to trust someone like him

"We were supposed to be friends, you lied to me!"

Your soul floated around Bill, you thought that when Bill asked to borrow your body it was going to be like every time but this time he refused to change bodies

"Friends? I don't have friends, you were just one of my pawns for my plan, and now that I have everything right where I want it I don't need you anymore"

Bill said mocking how innocent and foolish you were to believe that they were friends, something that he was going to thank you for was having a good body, you had resistance and good mobility that was going to be very helpful

"Well I have to go, dinner is getting cold"

He said indifferently as he approached the door, before you could stop him or do anything the door slammed shut in front of your face

For the first time in your life you were afraid, afraid of what Bill could do now that his plan was almost complete, you felt like a fool for believing him

_

Bruce noticed how you were weirder than usual, since you entered the kitchen and you sat down you knew something was wrong and it wasn't good

"(Name)...is something wrong?"

Bruce said as he stopped eating and looked at his daughter seriously

"Of course I am dad! Why would something be wrong?"

The girl said as she tilted her head and gave him that strange smile, something was wrong...

(Name) would never answer like that or smile at him like that, her usual response would have been to shrug and continue eating but now there was something strange about her, as if she wasn't her

"Well... you look weirder than usual, I just want you to feel okay"

The other family members suddenly looked at you and Bruce, they looked at each other, it seemed that everyone agreed that you were acting weird

"Nothing's wrong with me, I'm just happy... very happy"

(Name) said before abruptly getting up from the table with her empty plate in hand

"Dinner was good, see you later family!"

The girl said as she walked out of the kitchen waving her hand happily

In the minds of everyone sitting at the table there was only one mutual thought

Something was very wrong with you, and whatever it was they were going to find out

No matter what it took

Poor idiots, if they knew that soon everything was considered important like their universe is about to disappear forever

Everything was happening the way Bill wanted, now no one was going to stop him because there was no Stanford or the Pines family to stop him again

It seems Bill Cipher got his way again

I love writing about my hyperfixations and combining them and making a weird AU

I'll just leave this shit undone and go to sleep, byee

[narcissistshandler]

Can you write a yandere Sae x male reader smut where reader is flirty with others and makes Sae jealous and bratty? So then reader fucks the brattiness out of him.

𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x sae itoshi

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 light yandere!sae, light violent thoughts (not between sae and the reader), brat!sae, amab!reader, dom!reader, sae calls the reader sir, public, fingering (sae receiving), spanking (sae receiving), some swearing and insults, jealous!reader&sae, voyuer, non-consensual voyeurism

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 nothing to say, just that this was supposed to be much, much shorter (I'll edit this later, so ignore any errors for now)

“'This is so high I can't reach it, can you help me?'” Sae's voice loaded with poisonous sarcasm filled the distance purposely placed between you two. His beautiful green eyes were darkened with a shadow that could alert anyone but you and his arms were crossed in front of his chest, confronting you, mocking you... demanding an explanation.

You held back a sigh as you reached out with one hand to grab Sae's arm and finally close the distance between you. Sae stepped back, avoiding the touch.

“She needed help and I helped, no big deal,” you explained for what felt like the twentieth time since it happened. Maybe it was.

“She was flirting with you,” Sae pressed, his anger an icy, sharp thing. “And you flirted back,” it was an accusation that if was intended to anger you, so it succeeded.

Your temple throbbed with the onset of a headache and you brought your hand back to press against the spot, genuinely trying to understand what part of your interaction with the unknown woman had been seen as 'flirting' by your boyfriend.

The poor woman, who looked barely younger than you, who was kind, gave you a toothy smile and who seemed to follow you down the supermarket aisles for a while before she worked up the courage to ask you for help, wasn't flirting with you by God. And you promptly helped her and then let her engage you in a suspiciously long conversation about how the woman was single and preparing a party to celebrate her new status, believing it would be too rude to cut her off.

Until the figure of Sae, who was completely ignored by the woman, despite standing right next to you, began to analyze the woman from top to bottom, in that way as if pondering how she would react if he put his hands around her neck or broke her fingers - fingers that she continued to touch your arm with - or how easy it would be to find out her address and then... That's when his eyes darkened and you finally ended that conversation.

It wasn't flirting, you thought. You were just being nice, trying to get to know the new neighborhood.

“Don't be childish, Sae,” you said, knowing it was the last thing that would make him calm down.

“Childish?” Sae repeated, his voice rising in tone, seeming not to remember that you two were standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, or maybe he just didn't care. He wanted to embarrass you, you realized. “You shouldn't have even paid attention when she spoke to you!”

“That's not how the real world works.”

You continued, elbow resting against the shopping cart:

“I moved to the furthest house from the city that we found, don't think that just because I agreed now I'm also going to stop making friends or chatting around. You act like a spoiled child when he receives a new gift, just before breaking it.”

Sae's face turned to stone.

“I'd rather break you than let someone else have you,” he said, as if it were the most normal and passionate thing to admit.

This conversation wouldn't go anywhere, you knew, so instead of standing there and arguing with Sae, you sighed deeply and started pushing the cart. Even without turning back, you knew that Sae was following you, still keeping that pathetic distance between you. Sae's feelings towards you weren't normal, even though most of the time your relationship was as normal as any other. But you saw his darkness, you discovered that all the accidental encounters you had with him and all the familiarities between your and his tastes and hobbies had been faked and yet, you chose to stay.

“You can't just end the conversation at will,” Sae said, without even coming into your line of sight, still stuck on the previous topic. He was angry, so you should be angry too, that's how his reasoning worked. “You know I hate it when you turn your back on me.”

That's it. You snapped.

The cart slid on its wheels a few inches as you let go in favor of turning to face Sae. There, in his eyes, was defiance. And when your hand grabbed the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin beneath the curls of his hair, you saw something else stir there, fear.

“Shut your mouth up,” it was an order.

“What else would you do if I wasn't there? You already let her touch you and rub against you, what was the next step? Fuck her right there in the middle of the market while I was at home or participating in a match?” He stirred faced with the sudden order. Sae was like a wild animal, trying to shift your grip while making the accusation, testing your dominance, testing how far he could go, how hard he could bite you. “You're no better than a whore who can't keep the dick in the pants-”

The anger was heavy and immediate, falling like a stone into your stomach.

“Shut. Up.”

That shut Sae up, but you knew it wasn't enough, that in a few minutes, hours or even a few days later he would bring up the subject again. He needed to be put in his place.

With a firm hand grabbing the back of his head, your other hand fell to Sae's belt, but then, seeing the look of panic that filled his face, a thought crossed your mind and you pulled your hand away. Sae, however, didn't have time to relax before the order came:

“Unbutton your pants.”

“We are in public,” he said, the voice that had once been so loud and commanding now quiet. You both knew how famous Sae was and that even in this small town someone could recognize him. That would end his career.

“I gave you an order, didn't I?”

Sae's hands went down to his pants, the green eyes searching around the empty aisle as his trembling fingers released the button and lowered the zipper. Despite the fear and anxiety on his pretty face, it didn't take a command for him to fit his thumbs into the band of the pants and push them down, as well as his underwear. Obedience under the anxiety and embarrassment, the anger still there even when he asked please. Sae knew how to move his pieces, but you knew how to move him.

Standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, with his lower body naked, his softening penis hanging between his long, slender legs, Sae was embarrassed. The same embarrassment he wanted to make you feel when he started an argument with you and told you all those poisonous and sharp things.

“[n-name],” he muttered, eyes still roaming around. “Let's go home... ple-please.”

You ignored his whining, that just sounded anxious, not genuine. “Turn around. The faster you comply the faster you can put your pants on and stop someone from seeing your naked ass.”

Sae looked once more for invading looks before obeying. He pressed his hands against the shelf in front of him, his small, round ass facing you.

Your hand fell to one of his pale cheeks. The sound of the slap echoed around. Sae seemed to bite back a grunt.

“I don't need to tell you how bad you were, do I? You know that.” A second slap, in the same place where the previous one had landed. “You chose to irritate me, you chose to insinuate that I would cheat on you with the first person who appear in front of me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. A hard and fast sequence of your hand connecting with his soft ass cheek. “Do you think I'm afraid of you?” you inquired, your tone full of mockery, treating Sae exactly as he was: a spoiled brat.

No response other than grunts and bitten moans came, the hyperawareness of being in public seeming for the first time to do the magic of preventing him from trying to answer you. Sae's slender body seemed to try to run away from the hits, pulling away from your hand, but he didn't get very far between your body and the supermarket shelf. The shirt pooled around his waist, the dark color contrasting with the pink that bloomed on Sae's pale ass.

Your hand rubbed the soft flesh, feeling the skin burn beneath yours. Your fingers dug into his ass, without care or gentleness. And when you squeezed harder, you could see the place between those round, firm cheeks glisten with moisture.

Your laughter sounded like bells under the noise of footsteps, wheels and movement of the supermarket. “Is that why you're all angry and upset and talking to me like that? Because you want to be fucked?”

Sae's ears burned. “Don't treat me like a-” He was interrupted by your index finger pressing against his soft, lubricated hole, previously prepared for you before left the house that afternoon.

“Like what? A whore?” You punctuated the mocking question with your finger plunging inside him hard. “You better lower your tone if you don't want anyone to see us.”

His hole was already relaxed, opening easily to the intrusion, the walls wet and tense just from the current situation. You pulled your finger back and pressed two in, stretching them inside him. Sae made a small whimpering sound in response, his pink cock now hard between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto his own pants, like the pathetic little thing he was.

Sae was muttering something under his breath, a jumble of words and phrases, among which you could make out a 'who do you think you are', but which shortly afterwards turned into a 's-sir... please' when your fingers curled inside him and rubbed against his prostate, eliciting a twitch in his cock.

Your own cock was hard between your legs, pulsing and demanding release, but you knew this wasn't the time or the place, it was pure luck that so far no one had walked in this aisle, and that there was no security camera nearby. Deep down you wished someone would see him, and recognize the famous player now being fingered in public like a cheap whore. And that selfish desire flared up when a small, shocked sound reached your ears.

A third finger sank inside Sae as you recognized the woman Sae accused of hitting on you standing right there at the entrance to the aisle, shocked eyes darting from you to Sae, still completely oblivious to the new spectator as he struggled to be silent while your fingers fucked him the way he loved: hard and deep.

“We have company,” you warned Sae. It took a whole few seconds for him to understand your words and move his face, trying to understand what you were talking about. As soon as his eyes met the woman's, his hole suddenly became tense and tight around your fingers.

“This little pig,” he muttered under his slightly panting breath. There was no shame in any inch of him though - shoulders still high, lips pursed, body still willing under your touch -, it was something different, it was pride. A phantom feeling of being better than most people, but especially better than that unknown woman who had tried to hit on you.

The woman didn't move, feet still on the floor, eyes going from Sae to you, then back to Sae. She seemed to be finally putting the pieces together, regretting offering you her phone number right in front of your boyfriend. But there was also desire beneath it all. She looked at Sae like most people did, as if she was mesmerized by his beauty.

Sae however was jealous and possessive and all he saw there was her wishing she was in his place; have your fingers inside her. “I-I want you to make me cum, sir,” Sae asked, sweet and obedient when faced with a 'rival' and dark and petty at the same time. “So she knows she can't have you. You are mine. You can only touch me this way.”

He was a spoiled brat. But his words made your dick get even harder and you pressed your hips against his ass so he could feel your hardness, to let him know that only he made you hard and hot like that. You thrust your fingers with recovered strength and speed into and out of him, eliciting the most beautiful moans and sighs from Sae's mouth, calling him 'mine', 'good boy' and 'pretty whore' while rubbing your digits against the sweet walls, attacking his prostate.

The display of passion and eroticism could have lasted minutes or hours, until Sae's legs contracted and his hole tightened, erratic hips rocking back against your fingers and when you pressed your pinky against the wet, supple rim, Sae came. Clear liquid splashed from the pink head of his cock, hitting his pants, which had fallen to his ankles, and the supermarket floor. The wetness of the lube covering his hole as if Sae had produced lube on his own, just for you.

Sae's eyes, however, were not on the spectator when he came and neither were yours. You only had eyes for Sae, especially when you saw him feeling pleasure. And Sae only had eyes for you.

Just as the tremors of orgasm shook Sae's legs, however, and his hole began to convulse around your fingers, you leaned in to place a kiss on the side of his neck, feeling the salt of his sweat and the bitter of the perfume - your eyes went briefly to the woman standing a little distance, who faced with reality blushed and ran away, but not before you saw wetness dripping from beneath her skirt.

“I think she had a little too much fun with our show,” you said to Sae, fingers moving in and out of him again with delicious slowness. “But she can't have you.”

“Ah- she can't have you too,” Sae said back, almost daring you to say otherwise, the wobbly legs forcing him to lean on the shelf.

Maybe that was why Sae never scared you, you were starting to understand. You were a lot like him in some ways. You rubbed his ass where the impact of the slaps had already softened from red to light pink to match his cute hole.

“No. She can not.”

[dollfacefantasy]

strip poker that leads to threesome with death island older boyfriend leon and his best friend chris?! reader keeps on losing and ends up half naked and left in her panties while leon and chris are both fully clothed 🥹. + degration and daddy kink (for leon) !

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: a game of strip poker with your boyfriend and his friend ends exactly how you'd expect would

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, oral sex (both m and f receiving), fingering, daddy kink

word count: 3k

a/n + tags: thank you so much for the request babe! i don't really know how to play poker so forgive any errors 🙏 also consider this to be sharing is caring chris & leon. i hope you enjoy how this turned out <3 @nexysworld @gor3-hound @pupthepokemonenthusiast

"That's not fair!" you whine and gesture at the older man sitting to your left at the table.

When your boyfriend had told you he wanted to invite Chris over to hang out this evening, you'd been completely supportive. You were certain this meant they were wanting a replay of the explicit activities that had transpired between the three of you a few weeks prior. You imagined yourself sitting between them at dinner, feeling their lingering gazes, hearing their hinting words. They'd guide you off to the bedroom or even spread you out right there on the table and have their way with you. 

You fantasized about all the possibilities, but one thing that never crossed your mind was that they'd want to play a game of poker. Let alone a game of strip poker.

When Leon pulled out the deck of cards, you'd raised your eyebrows but tentatively agreed. They'd told you that whoever lost a hand would have to remove an article of clothing. You were interested, believing it wouldn't be too long before all three of you were naked and going at it. How wrong you had been though because in reality, it seemed this game did anything but speed things along.

It'd been over an hour, and Chris & Leon were both still fully clothed while you sat in your bra and panties.

What had prompted your outburst of whining was for the first time tonight, someone that wasn't you had lost a hand. You were excited that some progress was being made as Chris stood up to remove a piece of his clothing. But all he did was unbuckle his belt and slip it from between the loops on his jeans.

Both men chuckle at your frustration, and Leon smirks at you.

"Oh, calm down," he says, "Don't be a sore loser."

"It's not being a sore loser when you guys are like openly cheating!" you insist and lean back in your chair.

"How is he cheating, honey? He's removing his clothes isn't he?" he asks you.

"A belt isn't a piece of clothing! You didn't count my necklace when I picked that to take off," you say.

"Chris has to take off his belt to eventually get to his pants. If he had to take off both right now, that wouldn't really be fair," he says, obviously taunting you, "You didn't need to take off that necklace to get to any of your clothes."

"You made me take off both my shoes in one turn," you point out.

"Shoes are in a pair, princess. I only have one belt," Chris adds.

You huff and cross your arms, shooting the both of them with dirty looks. Despite your complaining, the three of you were all on an even playing field at the start of the game. You all had the same amount of items to lose. For the night, you had on your shoes and socks, shirt and skirt, and bra and panties. The guys on the other sides of the table had their shoes and socks, shirt and pants, and belt and underwear. You'd already lost four to put you at your remaining two.

You roll your eyes as Leon deals again, but you sit up to play. As it turns out, Chris coming up short before was a fluke because this time the bad luck was back on you. They both laugh as you throw your cards down and rub your eyes.

"You know, Leon, if you wanted me to take my clothes off, you could've just asked instead of drawing it out with this stupid game," you say.

"But it's so much more fun this way," he grins.

You glare at him while standing up to remove your clothing.

"C'mon, sweetheart. What's it gonna be? That cute ass or those gorgeous tits?" Chris taunts, lowering his tone as his words become lecherous.

You can already feel the heat starting to creep into your face. Without a word you reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra, letting the straps slip over your shoulders as you slide the lacy garment down your arms. Your breasts bounce free from their confines, and you drop it to the floor with your other things.

You're met with a whistle from Leon that cements a flustered expression on your face. Chris wears a smug look, but you can see in his eyes how he enjoys taking in your figure. Your nipples begin to pebble when exposed to the cool air.

"No need to be shy, honey. It's nothing we haven't seen before," your boyfriend teases.

"Just deal again, so we can get this over with," you say.

Sitting down inadvertently pushing your breasts together, making them stand out a bit more as if crying out for attention from either of the sets of hands in the room. It's Chris's turn to deal, but he takes a moment longer to shuffle the cards up since his eyes linger on your chest.

Another round goes by, and it's another round you lose. At least you were out of the game now, but you weren't sure what that meant. The thought of being sent off to your and Leon's room with no reward spun you out of sorts.

"Bullshit! You guys are cheating," you exclaim and drop your cards for the final time.

Both of them laugh at you. Chris shakes his head and takes his winnings from the round while Leon looks over at you.

"Watch your mouth," he says. He's teasing, but he uses a stern tone that zaps arousal right through you, "Remember whose money you're playing with, angel."

You look down when he says that. It was true that you didn't lose anything but your dignity by playing this game. Leon put up the money for the both of you.

"Your money or not, that doesn't change how many times I lost. That's like unnatural amounts of bad luck," you pout.

"Have you ever considered you might just have the worst poker face in the world?" he goads.

"I do not," you respond instantly.

"Oh yes you do," Chris interjects, "You bite your lip whenever you think you can win. Your eyes dart around whenever you feel like you're gonna lose. We can basically read your cards just from hearing your voice."

You scoff at that, but you don't really have a defense. You'd never been a good liar, especially with Leon. He chuckles at the defeat written all over you before leaning a bit closer.

"How about you come sit with me, babydoll? You can be on daddy's team," he says and pats his lap.

The rush that goes through you pulls you from your chair and over to his. He holds your hips, smiling up at you and planting a gentle kiss right above your navel.

"You still lost last round though. Gotta take these off before we can continue," he says and snaps the elastic of your panties.

You drop them to the floor and kick them to the pile of clothing next to your chair. He then takes you in his arms and gets you situated on his thighs. You lean back against his chest while he deals himself and his friend back in.

The first game without you in it is uneventful. You sit with Leon and he occasionally lays a small smooch on your cheekbone, but that's about it. You just watch him play, but at least you're getting some sort of physical contact.

He ends up winning, and Chris slips off his shoes. In a gesture of celebration, his hands come to cover your breasts and give them a squeeze. His fingers dig into the plump flesh, his palms brushing against your hardened nipples.

"You paying attention? Maybe you can learn a thing or two about winning," he murmurs against the skin of your neck.

The next game starts up as Chris sets the deck down between them. This time is a lot more interesting for you. Leon sits there, stoic as ever, but his hand drifts downward. It finds its place between your thighs, his middle digit seeking out the familiar location of your clit.

The invasion causes you to squirm slightly, but a quick pinch to your inner thigh halts your movements. Chris's eyes are switching between his cards and your increasingly aroused appearance. Your boyfriend pays his leering no mind though. The rough pad of his fingertip swirls around your bundle of nerves.

You spread your legs a little to give him more room, and you can feel his face convey his amusement against your head. His fingers rub down over your entrance, dragging some slick up over your clit. His digits slide over it with ease now, flicking back and forth over the tiny bud with lazy precision. You purse your lips to try and stifle your whimpers but little squeaks make it through now and again.

"You don't have to keep quiet, sweetheart," he whispers in your ear, "I think those pretty noises might help daddy win."

He could tell from the way Chris was shifting in his seat that he was starting to get a boner. He was getting aroused himself, but he got you all the time. He had more control. He could stave off a full erection for a little while. His friend on the other hand - he was eager to try you again.

Your head tilts back with permission and a longing breath leaves your lungs. Your breasts rise and fall with the motion, those perky nipples bobbing in a way that nearly hypnotizes Chris. All the while Leon's hand remains dedicated at the apex of your thighs. He strokes you just you like before moving his finger down to your entrance and sliding it in, grinding his palm on your swollen nub simultaneously.

"Fuck daddy," you whimper and roll your hips.

"What is it, baby? Looks like daddy's gonna win, doesn't it?" he purrs.

You nod mindlessly, not paying attention at all to the game. But whatever daddy says goes. That much you knew.

Chris is so enthralled with the sight of you unraveling on his friend's lap that he folds without a second glance at his cards. Your boyfriend chuckles at him while working his finger to the knuckle within you.

"You must have had a pretty rough hand, man," Leon jokes.

Chris's eyes flit to him. "I'm just in the mood for a different kind of fun now," he says.

"You are?" he says. He then turns his gaze to you. "What about you, dolly? You wanna have some fun with daddy's friend now?"

"Yes," you choke out as your back arches away from his chest, his digit pushing up against your internal sweet spot.

"Yeah?" he coos, "What kind? You want Chris in your pussy again? Or something else?"

Decision making isn't your strongest skill while in this frame of mind. You try to come up with an answer. As usual, Leon swoops in for you and makes the save.

"How about you use that pretty mouth on Chris?" he murmurs in your ear, "Suck on his cock while daddy gets his prize for winning."

Chris stands up once the plan is set, his bulge visible at the front of his pants. Leon gestures for him to wait though. Instead of having the older man come to the two of you, he pulls his fingers out of you and spins you around, boosting you back onto the table. You push some of the cards behind you out of the way on your way down. You end up spread across the table, happy that part of your earlier fantasy was now coming true.

Now both men stand, looking down on your nude form and taking in every curve and crux. Leon reaches forward to grope one of your tits again. He gives it a good feel before cupping it and leaning down to press some kisses around the nipple. He kisses from there over to the valley between your breasts and down your tummy. All the affection gives Chris time to shed his pants and boxers and give his cock a few languid tugs.

Leon sits in his chair again, pushing your thighs apart and looking at your glistening cunt. He leans in and kisses your clit with a feather light touch.

"Look at Chris, baby. He's got your treat waiting for you," he mumbles as he wraps his arms around your thighs and delves into his favorite luxury in the world.

You mewl but do as he tells you and turn your head. Waiting for you is Chris's heavy, flushed cock, dripping precum from the swollen tip. Your mouth waters. You'd wanted it bad last time, and now it was all yours. He reaches down to pet your head.

"That look good, princess?" he coos in a low voice.

You nod lazily, your brain fogging up with the mist of lust. Your lips part, and he pushes his hips forward, slotting his length in your mouth. You moan around the shaft, your tongue laving against the veins. His cock was thicker than your boyfriends. The difference thrilled you. You have to stretch your jaw a bit to accommodate him as he works it into your mouth. Your fingers wrap around the part you can't take.

He groans and tilts his head back. He sinks as deep as he can, unable to get enough of that soft, wet orifice.

"Fuck, honey. You're a two for one. Perfect mouth to go with that perfect pussy," he grunts.

You nod lazily and begin bobbing your head best you can while laying on your back. Chris was kind of impressed by your dedication and focus considering Leon was between your legs devouring you as if you were his final meal.

His tongue slides from his mouth and delves into your awaiting entrance. He moans as he tastes you; sweet and rich, completely addictive. As natural as sucking cock came to you, Leon's propensity to eat pussy seemed to be innate. He keeps you pressed against his face, eating you out like you're the finest delicacy he's ever tasted.

The intensity of his efforts have you whining and drooling on Chris's dick, but you keep sucking. The older man's fingers soothingly rub the back of your neck and help to guide you and pace you. Pulling back a bit, you suckle on the tip and kitten lick the head, making him grit his teeth and will himself not to blow his load right there.

"Your daddy's taught you well, babydoll," he pants before pushing you forward again till his tip nudges the back of your throat.

Both you and Leon moan when you hear that. He laps at your cunt with increased fervor now. He flattens his tongue and laves it over your throbbing clit before wrapping his lips around the little bud. You jolt and your legs jerk, but his hold on you is firm.

"Let daddy have his prize, sweet girl. Wanna taste that cum," he mutters before returning all of his attention back to your pussy.

Your whole body shudders, but you keep going for Chris. He runs his free hand through his hair and wipes at the sweat beading on his brow.

"Don't think I'm gonna last too much longer, Leon," he informs the other man.

"She won't either," he tells him, indirectly giving him the go ahead to do as he pleases.

Chris moans while beginning to rock his hips back and forth. His thrusts stay gentle, but they're just what he needs to start working him to the edge. Meanwhile Leon has your hips and legs squirming as if they're running from the release destined to catch them. He keeps you in place and keeps twirling his tongue against you.

It's Chris who cums first. His eyes flutter closed and his hips sputter, making sure he's nice and deep in your mouth when ropes of cum fire out of him. He moans and fucks it all into your awaiting throat. It's warm and sticky, and you swallow it like the good girl you are.

His eyes are hazy as he looks down at you. He's slow to pull out. When he finally does, the tip rests against your lips and you give it a few kisses. A string of saliva connects the two things when he backs away for a moment to catch his breath.

As he calms down, you spiral further into the pits of euphoria. Your back arches off the table and you claw at it so much you feel like there's gonna be scratch marks when you're finished. Leon keeps on with his task like he's being paid. He strikes the perfect balance between playing with your clit and teasing your insides that has you cumming minutes later.

Chris watches from above as you yelp. He takes in every little switch of expression on your face. Leaning down from behind you, he kisses your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips. He captures all your lewd moans and whimpers. His nose brushes against your chin as his lips move with yours.

He cups and rubs your cheeks as you come down. Leon's movements slow down until he gives your cunt one last sloppy, lingering kiss and pulls away. Your slick covers his chin. He doesn't wipe it away before standing up and bending over to kiss you himself. You taste your pleasure on him.

Your head is still spinning as the men help you sit up on the table. Gentle touches come from all directions it seems, and you're barely able to discern who's who. It's a blissful confusion, and you wouldn't trade the feeling for anything. 

When your eyes refocus, your boyfriend's gaze back into yours. Chris's lips are on your neck, laying tender kisses up the column of your throat. Leon smirks at you as his finger runs down his jawline.

"Let's go upstairs, baby. I haven't fully enjoyed my winnings yet," he whispers before carting you off to the bedroom with Chris following behind.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Encontrar tu media naranja

♥ pairing: lando norris x latina!fem!singer!reader

♥ synopsis: during one of your concerts a fan threw their phone up on stage. after you finished recording a video, you tried tossing it back to them and ended up accidentally hitting a world famous f1 driver in the face

♥ smau - none of the pictures are mine - face claim: alexa demie

♥ warnings: swearing, blood, accidental violence lol !!!

♥ a/n: if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fanfic about finding love by getting hit in the face with object I'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. + ignore spelling errors in my Spanish please some of it autocorrected lol

♥ masterlist

You turned your back towards the crowd as people cheered. You raised the phone in your hand up high to get as many people in the video as possible. After you ended the recording, you clicked the phone off and tried tossing it back to the original fan that threw it on stage.

There was an audible gasp from the crowd around the barricades as the phone hit a man's face. You covered your gaping mouth with your hand as you realized what you'd just done.

Your jaw was still dropped as you tried to speak.

"¿Estás bien?" you questioned.

(are you okay?)

You panicked internally as you tried to think of what to do.

"Can we get him some help?" you said, turning your gaze towards a few security guards.

"Todo el mundo por favor retroceda."

(everyone please stand back)

Security walked the man and his party out of the stadium rendering you absolutely speechless.

"Uhm," you said into the mic. "Did you get your phone back?" you asked the initial fan with an embarrassed expression.

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 743,684 more

landonorris aftermath

view comments

yourusername IM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OK

user6 HOW HARD DID SHE THROW THAT PHONE 😭😭😭

user9 miss girl can THROWWW

user1 y/n l/n baseball career when?

user7 girl needs to be pitching for the red sox, fuck 😭

user5 I feel so bad for laughing so hard

user10 the piss poor bandages on his nose-

user4 why is there so much blood holy shit

user12 didn't know Lando was a fan of her

user14 pretty sure Carlos dragged him to her concert lol

user2 not his friends laughing at him 💀

user18 someone drop the video

user16 is he okay?!?!

user17 meet cute 😍

user1 WHY IS THIS IS SO FUNNY

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 563,932 more

yourusername safe to say he forgave me

view comments

user7 STUNNER

user1 you can throw a phone at my face any time 🤷‍♀️

user6 LANDO NOWINS NO MORE

user9 I will never get over this 😭

user18 it was just an inchident

user16 wait she wasn't wearing that while she was there??

user19 pretty sure that was a pic of her at whatever after parties they went to lol

user14 Florida nights are cold as fuck

user4 do you think Carlos is jealous of all the attention Lando is getting from her

user2 the poly fics write themselves

user10 oh my god YESSS!!!

user50 why does f1 invite celebrities that know nothing about the sport???

user12 not her wearing landos merch

user3 im sure he made her wear it lmaoo

user5 LANDO'S FIRST WIN

user17 P1 LETS FUCKING GO

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-A Few Months Later-

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 238,849 more

yourusername @ landonorris

view comments

carlossainz55 and this was the same guy who was complaining about going to her concert a few months ago

landonorris if I remember correctly that concert ended pretty badly for me

user12 you got a girlfriend out of it I’d call that a win

user40 @/user12 they're not dating ???

user10 find someone who smiles at you the way they smile at each other

user9 they’re so cute

user3 don’t be shy drop the picture(s) he took of her

user7 I need him I fear

user8 📱👃

user1 hes so cute

user13 just date already

user15 you're so pretty

user17 I will literally never forget her breaking his nose lmaooo

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

liked by landonorris, kaliuchis, carlossainz55, and 656,943 more

yourusername my new single "encontrar tu media naranja" is out now 🧡

view comments

user8 ok but why does the guy in the music video look like lando...

user7 oh my god

user13 I see the vision

user9 YOURE ONTO SOMETHING

user1 Kali Uchis collab when?

user12 literally begging for a song with her, kali, and peso pluma

user3 orange sodas >>>

user24 📱👃

user11 this song is so good 🧡

user18 who's the guy in the mv???

user19 shes gorgeous

user17 I love her

user25 wait this is the singer that broke lando's nose

user5 🧡🧡🧡

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, carlossainz55 and 472,396 more

yourusername encontré a mi otra mitad

view comments

landonorris te amo querida 🧡

yourusername 🧡

user5 bro's adorable

user2 encontrar tu media naranja? more like econtrar tu media papaya

user1 that's an interesting angle

user9 Lando still doesn't know how to make a heart with his hands lmao 😭

user7 I FUCKING KNEW IT !!!

user11 YESSS

user14 and now they're married with five kids

user18 mom and dad

carlossainz55 formally known as lando "who's y/n?"Norris

landonorris ive grown since then

user12 fuck Romeo and Juliet I want what they have

user6 so the song WAS about lando

user8 and it all started with a phone 📱

user10 I'm tearing up

[infiniteglitterfall]

friggin faux-Palestinian history, istg

I'm in the middle of writing a post about the difficulties of pinning down details and dates in Palestinian history. This one is just me stopping to vent for a sec.

I came across the Wikipedia page for GUPS, the General Union of Palestinian Students. This is an organization with groups at colleges all over the world. Ish. It's shrunk over the decades.

The page made a bold claim: that GUPS was officially founded in Cairo in 1959, but had really started in the 1920s.

I called bullshit. The only source cited was a dead link to the 2010 version of the SFSU GUPS page, which said the same thing -- no context, no source, and especially, no explanation of how Palestinian student organizing could have started before there were colleges or universities in Palestine.

There were two. They were tiny. And they both taught in Hebrew.

Certainly, there could have been Arab Palestinian students there, who learned Hebrew there, or already knew it.

But were there so many that they started a student group that apparently lasted 35+ years before getting a name??

I could not find one other source for this.

So I deleted it and called bullshit.

Within a day, someone who wasn't even logged in reverted my edit. They told me that I hadn't proven that it was wrong, I'd just said it was illogical.

I started looking up sources and putting together a more detailed edit. In the meantime, I started a topic on the totally empty talk page, politely calling bullshit.

I said that I hadn't been able to find any sources in English OR Arabic that confirmed this claim, and that I thought it was an error made on a dead page.

The same person, now logged in, replied:

"you still haven't refuted the claim. the claim is still on their web page."

BRUH.

IT'S AN ARCHIVE OF A DEAD PAGE. BY DEFINITION, IT DOESN'T CHANGE.

This is exactly how it feels to research any of this stuff.

Every single time, it turns out that people's unsourced online bullshit is absolutely wrong.

Every single time, people just respond by insisting on believing whatever claim some rando made on the internet.

The problem is not that Palestinian history doesn't exist, hasn't been written down, or hasn't been researched. Of fucking course it has!!

(I have literally seen people claiming the contrary in the most wild-ass fucking ways. Supposedly-pro-Palestinian people, acting like Palestinians are wooby powerless fuzzy babbies whose books were all stolen by the cruel Jews 80 years ago, who had no way to replace that historic knowledge, and who have just been standing around ever since. It is the most Western Paternalism shit ever, and it absolutely drives me up the wall.)

The problem is that this is a topic that a lot of people are passionate about. And unfortunately, a whole lot of people are unwilling to back down on literally anything that "feels" pro-Palestinian to them, whether it's true or not.

It's purely going on Vibes, but the Vibes themselves are based on how something compares to the Vibes they get from social media and stuff.

And those vibes are so extreme and vehement that any kind of pushback sounds like You Love Genocide And Kill Babies For Fun.

It's just a fucking vicious spiral.

It's like playing tennis against the tennis-ball-throwing machine. It's not a real game. Nobody is engaging with you. It's just the same shit over and over.

(I was trying to type "shot." But apparently I swear so much that instead of autocorrecting me to "ducking hell," my phone now INSISTS I meant to cuss.)

I ended up getting Google to give me the Arabic for GUPS, and then digging for sources about its actual origin.

It turns out Yasser Arafat formed the Palestinian Students League in Cairo in 1949, and that became GUPS in 1956. This is entirely fucking unsurprising in any way if you know anything at all about actual Palestinian history. Of fucking course he did. This also explains why the first search result I found about GUPS was from the PLO. Of fucking course it was.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has to preserve your dignity in the most awkward way possible. He's ready for a relaxing few days off at Christmas with your parents, but their visit gets off to a rocky start. But by the end of their trip, Bradley is once again feeling as hopeful for the future as you are. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, titty fuck, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

It might have been amusing if it was happening to someone else, but it definitely wasn't. It was happening to him. Bradley looked at the time as he backed his Bronco out of the driveway at top speed and took off down the street. You and he should have been leaving now to get to the airport on time to pick up your parents, but that was just going to have to wait.

"Jesus Christ," he growled, barely pausing at the stop sign after he made sure nobody was coming. Bradley Ross was still packing up his truck not five minutes ago, so he couldn't have gone far. Through polite conversation, Bradley knew that the contractor lived a little further south in Coronado, so hopefully he could catch up to him quickly.

Bradley loved you with his whole being. You were the smartest, most capable person he had ever met. You also had pregnancy hormones on the brain, and if you weren't currently forgetting full conversations you'd had, you were falling asleep on a whim. Getting dirty photos from you was always a welcome distraction, but right now, you needed to focus a little extra on everything. Apparently having two Bradleys around was not the best idea.

"Yes," Bradley gasped, hitting the accelerator even though he was approaching a red light. The white Ross Construction pickup truck was stopped and waiting, and he cut into the other lane to pull up right next to it. "Shit," he groaned, realizing he couldn't roll his passenger side window down from the driver's seat. He started honking his horn before the light turned green, and the other Bradley turned to look at him in surprise, but his expression immediately melted into apprehension. It was obvious he'd seen the pictures. "God damn it."

After gesturing wildly for him to pull over, the light turned green, and Bradley was relieved when the truck moved through the intersection and then stopped in front of the first house. He pulled the Bronco over in front of the truck and hopped out as soon as he killed the engine. This was about to be one of the most awkward conversations of his life, and he'd had his share.

"Hey," he said as calmly as he could as the other man put his window down. Then he cleared his throat and sighed. "You may have received a text message from my wife in error."

He was met with bright red cheeks and guilt ridden eyes, and Bradley felt his hands curl into fists at his sides as his nostrils flared. Fucking hell, this man had seen your tits.

"Uh, I'm assuming that the mix-up occurred because of our names?" he asked. Bradley could see his phone sitting in the cupholder, and he wanted to snap it in half. 

"That's right," he replied through gritted teeth. How the fuck was he supposed to proceed here? He needed to make sure your dignity was as intact as it could possibly be at this point, and if he had to get a little aggressive, he would. "Mind letting me see your phone?"

The other man reached for it slowly, and Bradley watched him unlock it as he said, "I only saw the message preview when I started driving."

"But you saw it," Bradley snapped, rubbing his temple as he held out his other hand palm side up.

"Yeah."

Once the phone was in his hand, he confirmed that the message was still unread. At least there was that. While Bradley Ross may have seen your glorious breasts for himself, at least he'd only have his memory to rely on from here on out. He took his time and deleted each of the three photos. Then he emptied out the trash folder. Then he double checked that there was no trace of the photos anywhere before he deleted your contact information from the man's address book. After one more quick sweep to be sure his wife's tits were nowhere to be found, he handed the phone back to the abashed looking man.

He wasn't going to apologize for chasing him down, and he wasn't going to threaten him for something you started. Instead Bradley merely muttered, "Happy holidays," before returning to his Bronco and sliding into the seat.

He didn't realize how much his heart was pounding until he was sitting there in the silent interior, watching the Ross Construction truck pull away. He dug your phone out of his pocket while he started to calm down. When he entered your pass code, he saw that you had a new text from Cam but nothing else. Out of extreme caution, he blocked the other Bradley's phone number before deleting it from your address book, and then he started up the engine.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with her?" he muttered to himself as he pulled a u-turn and headed home. He thought about spanking you, but he was certain you'd just enjoy yourself. Frankly he would too. He wanted to lecture you about always checking the recipient before trying to send him something dirty, but he knew you probably already felt badly enough. When he pulled into the driveway, he saw you peering out the front window, waiting for him. Then he walked inside with his fingers wrapped around both phones and found you standing in the middle of the living room.

"What happened?" you asked, worrying your hands in front of your pregnant belly. Your eyes were wide, and you bit down on your lip, clearly beyond concerned to hear what he had to say. All thoughts of scolding you fled his mind, and when he opened his arms, you rushed toward him. 

"I took care of it. Deleted everything from his phone."

"On my god," you moaned, your belly pressing against him as you sighed in relief. He wrapped his arms around you as you settled against his chest and looked up at him. "Did he see the photos?" you asked softly. When he nodded, you winced. "I'm so sorry, Roo."

Tears filled your eyes as he sighed and looked around the room. The house was spotlessly clean, and the mostly undecorated Christmas tree was standing tall in the corner by the window. Everything was ready for your parents to get here, but neither of you made a move to leave. 

"I'm not mad at you, Sweetheart. It's not like you sent them to him on purpose," he whispered.

"I would never," you replied, voice filled with conviction. "These are all yours. And soon to be Rosie's." You patted your chest, and Bradley smiled.

"She's the only one I'm dividing my time with." He kissed your forehead. "We should leave to get your parents before it gets any later."

You agreed, and Bradley got you all buckled into the red Bronco. Of course there was a ton of traffic now that it was the peak of rush hour, and shortly into the drive you told him, "My dad texted me. They already landed."

"They're just going to have to wait," he replied, trying his best to merge onto the highway.

You were silent for a few minutes while you messed around on your phone, but finally you asked him, "Did you at least like the pictures?"

Bradley glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. "Of your tits?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "You didn't say anything about them."

He was practically ramming into other cars to try to find a spot in the parking garage at San Diego International after chasing down another man and forcefully demanding he hand over his phone, and you were honestly worried about whether or not he liked the way your boobs looked in the photos. He barked out a laugh as he swung the Bronco into a spot and parked. 

"What?" you asked, frowning at him. "You've been very vocal about them!"

He gestured for your phone, and you handed it to him before crossing your arms over your chest. Even though the two of you were late, he took a moment to really look at the photos in question again. He liked the first one where it looked like you were about to spill out of your bra. The second was just as nice since you were showing off your breasts and your wedding rings. And the third one was the main event, literally a vivid depiction of where he currently most enjoyed letting himself unload after he fucked you.

"Yes, Baby Girl. I like the pictures. In fact, I love them." He texted them from your phone to his, making sure he had the correct name selected before he gave your phone back. "And I'd love to see them in person when we get home later if you're in the mood."

You rolled your eyes and squeezed your thighs together. "I'll almost certainly be in the mood," you informed him as you opened your door.

"Oh, one more thing," he said, and you glanced back at him as he smirked. "How about you let me be the resident photographer for the time being?"

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

Your mom and dad looked annoyed when the two of you showed up late to retrieve them from the airport after weeks of assuring them that you'd pick them up without issue, but as soon as they saw your belly, they calmed down.

"Look at you!" your mom gushed, rubbing her hands together before placing them on your bump. "How's our sweet granddaughter?" she asked as Bradley started to collect their luggage.

"Very active," you told her with a smile. "She'll start doing somersaults if you wait there long enough."

"Really?" your dad chimed in, coming to stand with your mom after helping Bradley. That's how you ended up with four hands plastered to your midsection while your husband stood behind you and kissed your ear.

"Want to tell them her name?" he whispered, his lips brushing your skin. You had to assume he wasn't too upset about Bradley Ross and the boob photos if he was still just as loving as always. 

Of course your mom heard every word he said and practically shouted, "You picked out a name?"

You nodded as your parents both stared at you. "Rose."

"Rose!" your mom gasped like she'd just won the lottery.

"That's pretty," your dad mused, and that's when the baby started thumping in what seemed like delight. "I feel her!"

"So do I! Hi, Rose! It's your Nana!"

You desperately wanted to go home and eat dinner, but you stood there until your parents wore themselves out asking questions and trying to feel the baby move. Eventually Bradley said, "You must be tired and hungry. There's food at the house, and the attic renovation is done and ready for you."

"Perfect," your mom replied. "You can just tuck us away up there, and we'll be out of your hair."

"That's the idea," Bradley muttered, and you elbowed him hard in the ribs as he led the way outside, pulling the massive suitcase behind him. "Watch it, Sweetheart, or I'll tell them why we were late."

"You wouldn't," you whispered.

He just shrugged. "You think I care if they know you tried to send me dirty pictures? Really, it just shows how much you love me."

You rolled your eyes as he smirked while your parents chattered away about how crazy it was to spend Christmas in California for the first time ever.

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

Bradley thought your parents would be exhausted and in bed as soon as he started cleaning up from dinner, but your dad headed for the nursery to inspect the new furniture which was still in the boxes, and your mom started unpacking your childhood Christmas ornaments from her carry on bag.

"Oh!" you gushed as she handed some to you. "I forgot about these! Bradley, look! It's my handprint from when I was four!"

You were holding up a seriously hideous green and purple Play Doh blog that Tramp was trying to lick, but he couldn't help but smile. "Maybe we can make one with Rosie each year," he mused as you hung it on the tree.

"We have to," you told him as you unwrapped another homemade ornament. You got lost in conversation with your mom, so he wandered to the nursery to see what your dad was up to.

"Hey," he said from the doorway with a little chuckle. Your dad was sitting on the floor with all of the crib parts laid out around him.

"Just checking to make sure everything's here," he muttered, counting a handful of screws. "We're probably going to want to get started on this project first thing in the morning so we have time to get it all done."

"Sure," Bradley agreed. "Thanks again for agreeing to help me with it."

"Happy to help," he murmured, adjusting his reading glasses to peruse the instruction booklet. "Happy to help." Your dad stood and rubbed his back before following Bradley out of the room. They found you and your mom out on the back patio with the lights on, looking at the massive playset.

"It's so cute!" your mom said.

"It's over the top," you responded. "Bradley just had to have it."

"He's going to be a good dad. Give him a break. I can't believe he built this thing by himself."

"Jake helped him," you told her.

"Jake helped a tiny bit," Bradley announced, and you turned to look at him with a little smile. "You know what would be fun?"

"Hmm?" you hummed, and your parents both turned to look at him.

"We could put strings of lights on the playset."

"That's a great idea, Roo!" The three of you were immediately discussing whether the lights should be white or colorful, and you were clapping your hands in excitement. Having your parents out for a California Christmas, especially with the Nugget coming soon, just felt right. The tree he picked out already looked better covered in your ornaments, and your dad was going to help him knock some of his projects off his to-do list. 

He didn't feel awkward in his own skin like he did on occasion when he missed his mom so much it hurt. She would have loved every second of your pregnancy. She would have been on the phone every night, bugging the hell out of him, but Bradley would do anything to have her back. When you slipped your hand into his, he pulled you closer and said, "I'm happy your parents are here."

You kissed him right in front of them and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. He vaguely heard your parents say they were going to head up to bed and to have a good night which was convenient, because after everything that happened today, he was ready to be alone with you.

"Come on," he whispered when you broke the kiss. "I want to snuggle with you and Rosie." He called Tramp inside, and you led him toward the bedroom with your hand held loosely in his. But you didn't head for the bathroom or climb into bed. Instead you pulled his shirt off and tugged down his gym shorts and underwear before pointing to the bed.

"Have a seat," you told him, his cock shamelessly responding to you, already bobbing excitedly in anticipation of what was to come. Wordlessly, he took a seat at the edge of the bed and watched you pull your shirt over your belly and all the way off. His lips and hands were on your bump, and when you pulled your sports bra over your head, his mouth found your breasts. 

"I've got a little treat for you, Roo," you told him, brushing your fingers through his hair as he pulled your nipple between his lips. You moaned softly and added, "For being the best husband earlier and chasing down the man I accidentally texted dirty pictures to."

He grunted and grinned as he let your nipple pop free. "This is all mine," he said as he gestured at your body, and you nodded vigorously. 

"Absolutely." When you took a step toward your nightstand, he whined softly, but when you returned to him with a small bottle of lube in your hand, his eyes lit up.

"What are you doing, Baby Girl?" His voice sounded excited even to his own ears, and he had to reach down to stroke himself as you drizzled the clear lube onto your own breasts before tossing the bottle aside. "What are you gonna let me do to you?"

He swallowed hard as you ran both of your hands slowly along your tits until they were glistening. "I'm going to do all the work," you told him. "Just relax." When you went to kneel in front of him, Bradley helped you get down with his hands on your biceps. And then you took his cock between your lips as your silky, slick fingers glided across his balls.

"Fuck," he sighed, enjoying the sight of your shiny breasts, and a second later his length was sandwiched beautifully between them. "Oh my god."

You smiled up at him as you squeezed your tits together until he was grunting loudly, and then you moved your body slowly up and down. He watched his own cock disappear between your breasts and then reappear over and over. He was mesmerized by the smooth glide and the immaculate view he had of your face and chest. 

"Feel good?" you asked, and he nodded like an idiot as he ran his thumb along the perfect curve of your cheek. "You can touch me, Daddy."

"Oh hell." He let his thumb drift down to your nipple as you held him in place and fucked him with your tits until his balls were tight and his leg was shaking. You started kissing at his tip each time it was near your lips, and he had to grab at the bedding to keep himself in check.

After a few more slow movements, you reached for his hands and placed them where yours had been, on the outside of each breast. He squeezed himself in there tight as you said, "Go for it, Roo." Once you were holding onto his thighs to keep yourself steady, Bradley fucked your tits and played with your nipples until he was whining your name. 

He knew the attic renovation had been a great idea, but he was surprised it was paying off so soon. Your body felt magical as he went a little faster, and then he was spurting his cum everywhere. Your chin, lips and chest were painted white with his seed, and it dripped down to your belly as your tongue darted out to taste him. 

"Holy shit," he panted, looking everywhere for his phone. "I need a picture of this."

You reached into the pocket of his shorts which were on the floor and handed it to him. He took pictures of the pretty mess he made, including one where you were rubbing his cum along your skin. The swell of your belly was beautiful with his baby inside, and Bradley moaned as you licked the bead of cum from the tip of his cock. 

"You ready to snuggle?" you asked him, turning to kiss the inside of his thigh.

"Yeah." He really felt like he had it all.

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

In the days leading up to Christmas, Bradley and your dad managed to get the furniture built for the nursery with time to spare. "Can you pick a paint color, Sweetheart?" Bradley asked you on the twenty-third, holding up your final two favorites. "Your dad and I can probably get the room painted tomorrow if we go to the store today."

You looked back and forth between the sky blue sample and the rosy pink sample. "I love them both," you whispered, chewing on the tip of your thumb, indecision washing over you.

Bradley turned them around to look at them and seemed to have the same issue. "I have an idea. Will you let me make the decision?"

"Absolutely," you sighed, pleased that you didn't have to pull that trigger. "Whatever you want."

They sent you out for lunch with your mom and Nat on Christmas eve, which actually turned into a stop at the mall with all of the last minute shoppers. You didn't need to buy anything else, but you helped Nat pick out a few things, and your mom seemed amused. 

When you got home, all of the windows were open because the house smelled like paint, and your dad and Bradley were assembling something on the living room floor that you didn't know had even been purchased. "What's that?" you asked, eyeing your husband who couldn't seem to help but go overboard. "Bradley, I thought I put a cap on your spending for the baby!"

"It's from us," your parents said in unison.

"Oh."

"Oh," Bradley said, jokingly mimicking your voice. "I told you I was going to behave, and I have been behaving."

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "It is a chair?"

"Merry Christmas," your mom said. "It's a glider chair for the nursery. It'll be easier to feed her next to her crib so you can put her right back in bed when she's done. Not that my granddaughter will be anything but the sweetest little girl and most amazing sleeper."

Your eyes welled with tears as you hugged her. "Thanks for the overpriced chair. I love it."

Bradley stood with a soft grunt and reached for your hand. "If the smell isn't bothering you too much, can I show you the paint?"

"Yes," you said, wiping your eyes on his undershirt. You were suddenly so overwhelmed by how your parents came out for the holiday, but more than anything they were helping you get things ready for the next stage of life. Bradley led you down the hallway to the closed door and turned the knob. When he flicked the light on, you gasped. Three walls were blue, and the fourth wall was the dusty rose color you liked so much.

"I was thinking we could get the cloud decals for the blue walls and make the rosy wall look like a sunset," he said softly. "That could be pretty, right?"

You were fully crying now as you hugged him. "I think that sounds beautiful."

He kissed you as his hand settled on the sweet spot on your belly where he could usually feel a kick. "I just want my girls happy."

"We're happy with you."

The two of you spent a few minutes looking at the crib and the new dresser and the changing table. The bedding still needed to be washed, but it was folded on top of the dresser, and you ran your hand along the pastel airplanes and clouds. "I can't wait to meet her."

Bradley held you close and said, "I hope she's just like you."

When you finally walked back out to the kitchen, you were still swiping at your tears. Your mom was putting together some simple finger foods for Christmas Eve dinner, and your dad was putting the finishing touches on the new chair. There were Christmas carols playing softly through your wireless speaker, and you just didn't think the tears were going to stop.

You turned to your husband and quietly sobbed, "I wish your parents were here. I think about them so much, and I hate that I never got to meet either one of them."

"Shhh. Don't cry, Sweetheart," he crooned pulling you to his chest again. "I don't want you to cry." He was quiet for a moment as you looked at the tree, your tears turning the lights into a streaky mess. "My mom would have loved you. And she would have been over the moon for the baby. Just like your parents are. I know it's not fair. I think about it every fucking day, but I don't want you to cry when we still have so much."

You clung to him a little tighter as Rosie did a somersault. "You're right."

Your parents didn't seem concerned when Bradley held you a while longer. Then the four of you ate dinner, and you dipped literally everything into your favorite hot sauce. Then you brought the presents out from their hiding spot in the bathroom closet and set them under the tree while Bradley cleaned up the kitchen. Your mom and dad were already fast asleep by the time you climbed into bed and yawned.

"Can I read to you from the Nugget Notebook?" Bradley asked as he pulled the covers back on his side and got in as well.

"Of course," you whispered, tossing your glasses on your nightstand and snuggling up next to him.

He cleared his throat and you drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. "Hey, Rosie. Your mom is so funny. She thinks I've been buying you an exorbitant amount of stuff. She's completely correct. I have been. But you know who's even worse than me? Your grandparents."

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

Bradley never let his expectations get ahead of himself on holidays. He spent two decades mostly on his own, doing very little celebrating. But that was before you. By seven o'clock in the morning, you were yanking him out of bed. When he tried to reach for your belly to say good morning, you swatted his hands away and gave him a quick kiss. "Rosie says Merry Christmas. Now let's get up."

"Jesus," he grunted. "What's the rush, Sweetheart?"

You kissed him again and said, "I promised your cousin Brenda we would FaceTime with her, and it's already late in Virginia."

He just stared at you. Somehow you always remembered everything and everyone. He knew you sent cards to his family members, and he knew Brenda would appreciate talking to the two of you. "You're the sweetest thing," he said as he climbed out of bed. 

He pulled on his gray sweatpants before following you out of the bedroom. Your parents were already up wearing their matching pajamas, and the whole house smelled like cinnamon rolls and coffee. "Merry Christmas," your mom greeted, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and Bradley did a double take when he saw the tree. There were at least twice as many presents there now as when he went to bed. 

"What's this?" he asked. "It actually looks like Santa came."

"Oh, we just brought a few things with us," your mom said. "Things for Rose. And some treats for Tramp."

"Jesus," he muttered as you handed him the iPad. "The baby isn't even here yet, and they just keep getting worse."

You nodded as you dialed Brenda's number, and when she answered, you asked how she was and showed off your bump before handing the call over to Bradley to have a few minutes alone with his mom's favorite cousin. Then he ate six cinnamon rolls and gave himself a stomach ache before it was time to open the enormous pile of presents.

There were onesies and pacifiers and bibs. Toys and a crib mobile that matched the bedding. Bottles and diapers and teething rings and little floral bath towels. Bradley was completely overwhelmed, and he kind of felt terrible when he handed your parents the set of cutting boards and the laser level you and he picked out for them.

"This is for you." He looked up as you held out a box with a smile on your face. "Well, it's for you and for Rosie."

Bradley's heart skipped a beat as you and your parents watched him unwrap a box, and when he pulled the lid off, his face broke out into a huge smile. You and he had matching shirts, and now he'd be able to match with his Nugget, too. "I love it," he said softly, holding up a large shirt and a very small one. The pink floral design was the same color as the bedroom wall he'd just painted yesterday, and the fabric was very soft. "Thank you, Sweetheart." 

He kissed you and handed you the tiny box he had tucked back behind all the others. He felt a little nervous giving it to you with your parents here, but it didn't really matter. They would see it eventually anyway. When you opened the little jewelry box and met his eyes, you said, "Help me put it on." He leaned in closer and unclasped your necklace chain. You wore the airplane charm and the little dog tag that said Baby Girl every day, and now you'd have another one with them. "It's absolutely perfect," you whispered as you slid the gold rose onto the chain.

"Just like my girls," he promised. "When she's old enough, I'll buy one for her, too, so you can match."

"I love you." You mashed your lips against his as you crawled to his lap, and Bradley didn't stop your parents from making a detour to the kitchen to start prepping for dinner.

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

After Christmas dinner, the four of you drove around in the red Bronco to look at lights. You made a quick trip to drop off presents for Jeremiah, and then you and Bradley stopped by to say goodbye to Bob. He looked like he was glued to Maria, so you took that as a good sign.

"I'll never get over the palm trees covered in lights," your mom remarked from the backseat while Christmas music played on the radio.

You played with your new necklace charm as you said, "I think there are a lot of things here that will always look weird to us."

"We're hardy east coast people," Bradley murmured as he turned back onto your street. "Look, they decorated a cactus," he said in disgust, and you started laughing. 

"Is that house for sale?" your dad asked, pointing out the window. "It's hard to tell in the dark."

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "It's been on the market for a few weeks. It looks like it needs a lot of work."

"The last thing we need is a fixer upper," your mom told your dad, and your heart beat a little faster. 

"Dad, are you going to retire?" you asked, too afraid to even ask the more pertinent question on your mind as you played with Bradley's fingers on your lap.

"It's within the realm of possibilities," your dad replied. "Your mom wants to move a little closer to the two of you."

"Three!" she said. "Rose will be here before we know it!"

"The three of you," your dad corrected.

This wasn't the first time this topic had been discussed, but you didn't want to get your hopes up. "Are you still thinking California?"

You dad laughed. "Your mom is obsessed with the Coronado housing market."

"Obsessed is a strong word," she said, and you gave Bradley's hand a little squeeze.

"Tell me we just finished the attic for nothing," your husband mumbled as your parents argued in the backseat, but you just leaned in and kissed him.

"Aww, come on, Roo. Rosie can make one of those rooms her bedroom in a few years," you told him. "You know, so there's separation."

He grunted in approval, and then your dad asked, "Could you leave the car keys out for us to drive around a bit in the morning before you take us to the airport? The two of you can sleep in while we check out the area a little bit more."

"Absolutely," you told him as Bradley pulled back into the driveway of your cute Craftsman with all the extra bedrooms and the strings of lights around the windows. Your parents climbed out of the back, but you tugged on Bradley's hand to keep him in place. "Can I have another one of my million orgasms while they're driving around tomorrow morning?"

He ran his rough thumb along your cheek and kissed you. "My Baby Girl can have absolutely anything she fucking wants."

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

Roo gives the best gifts. The nursery is virtually finished and so is the playset. Now we wait for the Nugget to finish cooking. A shower and a babymoon and trouble are on the way soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

[mossyinkynebulous]

I present to you some Error doodles

Error belongs to Loverofpiggies

Closeups under cut

[wakasaswifee]

BET? | Michael Kaiser

Advantage - Daniel Di Angelo

“I’ll spend all my money on you ‘cause you’re worth it”

Synopsis: You never planned on ending up at an illegal street race, yet here you are, dragged along by your best friend, who’s determined to hook up with some hot guy. Meanwhile, all you wanted was a quiet night in, binging Netflix and avoiding drama. But as the engines roar and the crowd buzzes with excitement, your stomach sinks—your eyes land on someone in the crowd of people; one of the racers, and it’s none other than your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Michael Kaiser

TAGS & TWs- AGED UP CHARACTERS, AFAB reader, street racer!kaiser, sadist kaiser, face riding, car fucking, racer!au, racer kaiser, kaiser smokes, kaiser has a tongue piercing, car sex, p in v, ex’s best friend, mentions of a non related character, use of yn (once), kaiser calls you ‘engel’ ‘mein schatz’ ‘prinzessin’ ‘baby’, kaiser smokes weed, use of weed, car sex, cunilingus, tit play?, ex boyfriend’s bsf, creampie, porn no plot?mentions of pregnancy?, intimate, kaiser is an asshole, he’s a playboy, size diff/if you squint, face sitting, NOT EDITED, more shit that i forgot to add, unprotected sex, slight fluff, teasing,grammatical errors, lack of vocabulary 

Characters- yn (reader), kaiser,

Fandom- blue lock

Words -5.1k 

A/N-READ WARNINGS!!!  Kaiser birthday story, Christmas and new years, 3 in 1 😈. first time writing smut, kinda nervous 😓.YALL TS IS NOT EDITED SO DON'T COME FOR ME. idk where this idea came from, this is kinda ooc kaiser so idk. Also the reader isn’t cheating, she broke up with her bf. Btw this is soo long but it’s so worth it, trust. Idk what i’m talking about, just read it, it’ll be worth your time! Once again, i can’t write smut so idk, I'm bad at endings

“Mia, I seriously hate you.” you grumbled as your childhood best friend dragged you across the asphalt, past the large groups of people and finally to your destination. You both stood in front of what seemed like a 100 or more cars with twice as many people surrounding the area. 

“You don’t hate me, babe—you love me," she teased with a mischievous grin, looping her arms around your waist before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

"While you’re busy pouting under your storm cloud of despair, I’m off to find myself a sexy man who knows how to handle me." Her laughter echoed behind her as she sauntered away, tossing you a playful air kiss over her shoulder.

Wow, really? She drags me here and leaves me? 

You thought to yourself. But she was right, you’re already out of the house so you can’t just sit around with a pissy face. 

Deciding to look around the place, you sashayed down the tarmac, heels clicking and skirt swaying with the cool spring night breeze chilling your mostly exposed leg. 

Despiste your unwillingness to go out, you still put effort into your outfit. A mini, low rise black cargo skirt, with a white g-string thong resting on your hip bones. As for the top, a black and white cropped bomber jacket with “ferrari” in bold letters written on it. It was zipped up but you were wearing a cute white lace bra underneath, matching the thong. 

You swayed your hips, looking at the unique cars. Until something caught your eye, it wasn't a car but definitely something you could look at all night. 

Micheal kaiser. Your ex’s best friend— ex’s ex best friend? You heard they got into a fight over something but weren’t sure if they were still friends or not— almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he tilted his head in your direction and it felt like every ounce of oxygen was sucked clean from your lungs. 

You didn’t break eye contact though. Fuck no, you weren’t no pussy. No lie, he looked sexy, leaning against his detailed car, arms crossed, his eyes undressing you. His outfit, oddly similar to yours. Black baggy cargos paired with a grey-ish shirt and a red and black bomber jacket with random sponsors on the front and ferrari written on the back with the logo. 

His blond and blue hair grazed his neck and complimented his dark fit. 

His expression was blank but his eyes.. His eyes glaring at you with lust. Maybe he was making you a little nervous. Running a tongue across your bottom lip, you looked away from him but his gaze never left you. Watching your torso move with every step you took, the way your thighs were on display, looking like a full 5 star meal. 

He pushed himself off his car, stalking your way. 

A large arm came from behind, wrapping around your waist and pulling you against a hard chest. You flinched, eyes shot up to crash with piercing blue ones. 

“Looks like we have an unexpected guest here” Kaiser smirked. Maybe you were imagining things but you could swear you felt his hand move lower down your exposed waist. 

“Kaiser, what’re you doing” your voice coming out more hushed than expected. He still heard you, over the blaring radio music and the chattering of people. 

“Whaddya think i'm doing, engel?” he swiftly turned you around, pulling you in closer till your chest was squished against his hard muscles. 

“That's not answering my question.” biting back but that only seemed to add to his amusement. 

“Oh, i'm sorry, beautiful. Want me to spell it our for you?” you rolled your eyes, looking away.

“I wanna fuck you; you look breath taking, Engel. Wanna see what you’re hiding under these sexy clothes.” of course he did. Average player, walking up to good looking girls and saying they wanna fuck without shame. his lips brushed against your ears and even after knowing that… fucking god, those words went straight to your core.

“Have you no shame? You're asking your best friend's ex if she wants to be fucked by you.”

“So you think you can have me so easily?” 

“Hm, I can't?”  he pouted like you actually hurt him, making you scoff

“Boy, please. I know my worth, especially after that good for nothing friend of yours.” 

“You should, Engel because I only go after things that are priceless.” 

“And that fucker ain’t a friend no more” 

You let out a small laugh, looking up at him, feeling his hand move lower, tracing the curve of your ass, to the back of your exposed thigh. Giving it a tight squeeze.

“Kai-”

“Shh.. so, is that a yes?”

“Are you gonna race?” you questioned, trying to ignore the intruding presence of Kaiser's hand. 

“Yeah, why?” he tilted his head, confused. 

“Because. If you win.. I'm all yours, handsome” deciding to play along. your hand clutched the collar of his jacket, pulling him down until your lips were mere inches from his. 

His eyes narrowed on yours, lips tilting up into a mischievous smirk. 

“Just wait, Prinzessin. You’ll be mine before the end of the night and i’ll have that tight pussy of yours swallowing my cock whole in the back of my car till sunrise” he licked your bottom lip and if he couldn’t get any hotter, you caught a glimpse of the little silver ball on his tongue making your breath get stuck in your throat. 

You swallowed sharply, making him chuckle, landing a harsh slap on the back of your thigh making you yelp. Heat covered your face but also your pussy that was already soaked. 

You pushed away from him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Go win first, you player” 

He chuckled at your reaction, walking past you but he stopped turning his head back

“I want you ready for my cock before I come back. I’ll show you what fucking means, that good for nothing ex of yours won’t compare, Engel” 

His face more serious, jaw clenched, before landing a light slap on your ass and walking away. 

You rolled your eyes, whispering under your breath about how he’s so full of himself that he’ll win. 

What if he did win? 

Not being able to help yourself, you bit your bottom lip. Adjusting your skirt, you sauntered over to the large line up of people that were screaming their lungs off. 

fuck, why am I nervous now.. I already agreed on.. No, i initiated this bet.

You let out a breath, your gaze landing on Kaser's sleek Ford Mustang Shelby GT500, its black body accented with striking crimson red stripes. The car came to a smooth stop just shy of the white starting line, both the driver and passenger windows rolled down. One hand rested casually on the wheel, the other draped over the window's edge. His entire demeanor radiated ease—relaxed, almost effortlessly confident.

A few, maybe 6 or 7 cars parked beside him. A lexus RC f, mclaren, porsche and a handful more of cars which you couldn’t name. He craned his neck, those endless blue eyes clashing with yours. 

It’s like this fucker always knows where i am.

He can spot you with such ease, it was scary. He revved his engine, not breaking eye contact. He seemed to be chewing something, gum perhaps?  

His lips were set in a firm, unyielding line, but the slightest curve hinted at something deeper—desire held in check.

A chill ran down your spine, making you break eye contact. 

Looking around at the scenery, bright lights from the cars partially lit up the dark night in the middle of tokyo. The light reflected off the shiny clothes and glitter that some girls were wearing. It was quite beautiful, you couldn’t lie. 

Kaiser’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, relaxing back into his seat. His free hand reached down and adjusted his aching cock. Staring down at his tatted hand, he flexed his knuckles, looking back up at the road. 

The air was thick with the scent of rubber and gasoline, the faint hum of the other cars vibrating the ground beneath his feet. He barely glanced at the others, all lined up in their brightly modified machines.

The feeling of competition, of raw power, surged through him as he shifted into position.

In the distance, a girl with blonde shoulder length hair, tiny ripped jean shorts and a cropped F1 shirt stood at the front of the line, her silhouette framed by the glaring headlights of the surrounding cars. She wasn’t here for the race, but to make sure it went off without a hitch. The flag in her hand fluttered slightly in the wind, the only sign of calm before the storm.

You felt a little uneasy, with how she was eyeing everyone, especially Kaiser and he was looking back, but not with the same lustful expression he looked at you with. 

She made eye contact with Kaser as she raised the flag high above her head, signaling the racers. His heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear—it was anticipation. The entire world seemed to slow as the flag slowly dipped, her movements precise, measured.

The signal came.

The moment the flag dropped, Kaser’s foot slammed down on the gas pedal, the car shooting forward with explosive force. Tires screeched on the asphalt as he zipped past the other racers, the sound of roaring engines filling his ears. He didn’t look back. The road ahead was all that mattered.

You gulped, watching closely at the speed Kaiser took off. Your stomach jumped and flipped with nervousness. 

This wasn’t exactly your first time watching a race but it was your first time watching someone you knew race. 

The road was blocked off, and the course was clear, stretching in front of him like a ribbon of opportunity. He and the other six or seven drivers raced down the long, winding stretch of asphalt, their cars growling, tires gripping the ground as they hit the curves with precision. The streetlights above flickered in the distance, casting fleeting shadows as the cars tore through the empty streets.

You clutched the sleeves of your bomber jacket. 

You’ll be mine before the end of the night

His words tainted your mind like stubborn dye. 

if he wins.. I’m his 

The first turn was sharp, a quick swerve to the left, but Kaser was already in the lead. His car slid just inches away from the corner, his experience guiding him, his mind focused only on the road. Behind him, the sound of tires screeching echoed—someone was catching up.

A green car with decals neared Kaiser's, challenging him without words. Kaiser wasn’t someone who said no to a challenge, ever. 

You calmed yourself down, tugging at your jackets. The wind was only getting chiller but you felt hot, you were burning on the inside. 

He was ahead, barely, but the green car with decals plastered across its hood and doors was closing in fast. Its engine snarled as it surged alongside him, inches away from his driver-side door.

The green car edged closer, forcing Kaiser to cut tighter into the turn. The tires screeched in protest, the Mustang hugging the curve with precision, but the green car matched him move for move. He risked a glance through his side mirror and caught a glimpse of the driver—a shadowy figure with a determined glint in their eyes. The bastard was pushing him to his limits.

Kaiser gritted his teeth, shifting gears to squeeze every ounce of power from the Mustang’s engine. The green car's front bumper inched closer, almost aligning with his. He could feel the heat of the rival engine, the vibrations from their near-collision rattling through his bones.

The finish line loomed ahead, a glowing strip marked by cheering crowds. The green car made its move, veering slightly toward Kaiser, trying to force him off his line. For a split second, the Mustang wobbled, a rare falter from its unshakable steadiness.

Kaiser eyed you near the start but also the finish line of the race. A menacing smirk grew across his lips. 

He knew what he wanted and he would get it. 

At the last possible moment, he tapped the brakes—a fraction of a second adjustment that let the green car overcommit to its attack. The rival swerved wide, losing its trajectory just enough.

Kaiser floored it, the Mustang roaring like a beast unleashed. The finish line surged closer, the crowd's shouts growing louder. The green car clawed back, its engine screaming in defiance, but Kaiser held his line.

With mere inches to spare, his Mustang’s nose crossed the finish line ahead of the green car. The crowd erupted as Kaiser eased off the gas, his breathing heavy but even. He threw a glance into the rearview mirror, catching the flash of frustration on his rival's face before smirking to himself.

Close, but not close enough.

He stepped out of the vehicle like the winner he was. Confidence surrounding him, and that cocky smirk back on his face. 

A large group of guys and half naked girls ran up to him, surrounding him, while the other racers dapped him up. 

The crowd swarmed him, a wave of cheers and congratulations filling the air, but none of it seemed to matter to him. His ocean-blue eyes cut through the noise and chaos, finding you effortlessly.

Running a tattooed hand through his silky styled hair, which brushed just past the nape of his neck, he moved toward you. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through your veins.

Instinctively, you stepped back, but his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. With a sharp tug, he pulled you into his chest, the sudden closeness stealing the breath from your lungs.

“No congrats for me, Engel?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the crown tattooed on his hand. “Why would you need a ‘congrats’ from your prize?” you replied with a sly hum, the playful edge in your voice challenging him.

His eyes darkened slightly, narrowing as he placed both hands on your thighs with practiced ease. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. Instinct took over, and your legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring yourself as you gasped in surprise.

“Kaiser! What the hell!” you exclaimed, gripping his shoulders for balance. Your freshly done nails pressed into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Shh, quiet, pretty,” he whispered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Now, arms around my neck.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed, the intimacy of the moment leaving you speechless.

His hand moved higher from your thigh to your ass, gripping it tightly. 

Red painted your face, hiding yourself in the crook of kaiser’s neck. 

“People are staring..” you mumbled against his cologne scented skin. It was hard not to breathe him in, especially when he smelled like addiction. 

“Let them stare. I won you fair and square. No one’s gonna stop me from enjoying my prize, right?” you could hear the devilish smirk in his tone. Some of his highlighted blue hair grazed your cheek. 

“Fuck baby, are you sure you’re wearing something under your skirt and those strings aren’t just decoration?” he whispered against your ear, making you squirm in his hold. Slapping his back.

“Don’t say such perverted things out loud, mihya’” the words only got a laugh out of him.

“If you think what i’m saying now is perverted, just wait ‘till i have my way with you” 

Finally he started walking, pushing past the endless groups of people, his rough hands still on your ass like he owned it.

He placed you in the passenger seat, and he settled in the driver’s seat. 

Barely a second passed before someone yelled a warning about the police. The crowd erupted into chaos, scattering like water to hot oil.

ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤ ֗ ㅤㅤ ࣭ ㅤ ⊹ ㅤ⋆ㅤㅤ ۪ㅤ﹢ㅤ ࣪ ㅤ

40 minutes. Kaiser sped away from the cops, 15 minutes ago. He drove you both somewhere far and quiet. Serene and peaceful.

For the past 15 minutes, you were straddling his lap in the driver's seat of his Ford. 

Slowly grinding down on him every few moments. His seat was pushed back, just enough. Those perfect lips of his wrapped around a blunt, he blew the smoke out in your face, watching you inhale it like a good girl. 

His tatted hand rested on your side, upper thigh, your hip. His fingers gently caressed the skin, snapping the band of your thong whenever he wanted to pull you out of your daze. 

The bulge in his cargos pressing up into your ass. 

His head tilted back, eyes open just a slit, almost bloodshot red, a lazy grin plastered over his lips. 

“Kaiser” you whined. Rubbing your wet pussy over his protruding bulge. 

He slapped the side of your thigh, leaving a large red imprint of his hand. 

Making you gasp, dropping your head down on his shoulder 

“Please..” you begged, your voice breaking as you bit down on his inked skin. 

“Please what, Engel? Use your words, I know you can do it” he cooed, rubbing the abused area. 

He took a hit from the joint, holding the smoke in his mouth. He put out the joint, throwing it in the empty cup holder. 

Kaiser pulled you back with your hair, cupping your jaw. He pulled you in, his lips a breath away from yours. 

The car smelt like weed. The smoke that he held in his mouth was blown out into your parted lips. 

He grinned as you moved your hips again. 

You licked his bottom lip, tasting the remains of your cherry lip gloss on his lips. 

From when he pulled you onto his lap and crashed his lips on you and sucked your oxygen out your lungs and bit your lip until you bled like a wild animal. 

“I wanna ride your tongue.” You mumbled against his lips.

His eyes thinned, letting out a cruel chuckle. 

“Tell me, first..” 

“Hm?”

“Am I better than that sorry excuse of a man” 

His face fell into a serious one. You knew exactly who he was referring to. 

“So much better.. In every way possible” mumbling against his lips. 

ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤ ֗ ㅤㅤ ࣭ ㅤ ⊹ ㅤ⋆ㅤㅤ ۪ㅤ﹢ㅤ ࣪ ㅤ

Tears streaked down your cheeks as your palms pressed firmly against the headrest.

Kaiser lounged in the fully reclined driver's seat, his broad frame at ease against the leather. His large hands rested on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh with a firm yet deliberate touch. 

You moved your hips sensually, the little cold silver ball on his tongue pressing up against your clit. He thrusted his middle and ring finger inside your clenching hole. 

Advantage by Daniel Di Angelo played in the background, the music was only background noise because none of the lyrics reached your ears, only the sound of your moans and the sounds of him slurping and drinking you up.

“Kaiser! O-oh fuck..” You rolled your hips onto his tongue wanting more and more, making him chuckle. A harsh slap landed on your ass making you whimper. 

“You’re fucking dripping down my hand, Prinzessin.” you stared down at him in a daze. Cheeks flushed red, lips swollen from being kissed too hard, knuckles turning white from the grip on the seat. 

He moved his tongue back and forth. The tip of his tongue rolling against your clit and his fingers expertly working on your insides. 

The slurping sounds nearly echoed in the car, he ate you out like a starved man. A man who hasn’t been fed in weeks. 

He teased your entrance with his tongue.

“Look at you, you’re pussy’s sucking my fingers in and now it’s asking for my tongue” you could hear the grin that was plastered across his face. His voice was a little muffled so you thought you were suffocating him, trying to shift your weight but that only made him grip the back of your thighs harder, pulling you in closer.

“Don’t.” was all he said before your ex’s best friend went back to tonging you down. You let out a small moan, your mouth hanging open.

He had such a dirty fucking mouth and it turned you on more than anything.

You’ve always known Kaiser for being good at everything but who would’ve thought he was just as good with his tongue and fingers as he was with his words. 

“Kaiser! Wan’na cum” You pleaded, looking down at his face half covered with your pelvis. 

“Cum but don’t whine about being overstimulated when i'm fucking you” 

Throwing your head back. You dug your nails into the car seat, finishing all over his mouth and fingers with a muffled scream. 

The sadist under you just grinned, sucking up all your juices, fucking his tongue inside your pussy as his finger’s were doing. 

Your legs were shaking, thighs pressing either side of his head. He didn’t stop, no. He only went faster, laughing at your reaction. 

He wrapped both his hands around your thighs. Lifting you up and placing you on his lap. Sitting up and fixing the seat with him. 

“Get in the back seat” he didn’t need to say more, you were already climbing off his lap and into the back seats, your back hitting the car door. 

Kaiser followed after. He unbuttoned his jeans, unzipping and palming his raging erection through his black boxers. 

On instinct you spread your legs open. Taking your jacket off, your shirt and skirt soon followed. You ran your fingers through Kaiser's hair, down his neck and pulling his bomber jacket off. Tugging at his shirt for him to remove that as well. 

His hand traced down your stomach, around your waist, tracing up your spine and unclasping your bra single handedly. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against yours, nibbling your bottom lip, his lips were soft like silk and sweet like cherries. 

You squirmed under his body, trying to shimmy out of your panties but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

“They stay on.” he kissed his teeth, the moonlight hit his side, defining the curves and ridges of his well crafted face.

He pulled on the damp part of your thong, watching it snap against your clit

You whined out, arching your back. He smirked at your reaction, doing it a few more times 

“So sensitive for me” 

Your legs already felt like jelly due to your recent orgasm that you rode out on Kaiser's face.

“How badly do you want it?” The asshole in front Of you hummed, latching himself onto your neck, leaving even more dark hickies and bite marks. 

You whimpered, pulling at his silky strands.

“Kaiser, i fucking hate you, i want it so bad, you’re so much better than my other man, please, please make me feel good” You rambled on not even noticing he had pulled his leaking cock out his boxers and lined it up against your entrance. 

Before you could even utter another word, his entire length was inside of you in one quick thrust. 

He groaned, saying something about how tight you were. 

Your pupils rolled to the back of your head, tugging at the blonde hair on his scalp. He hissed probably due to pain but never told you to stop. 

The sound of skin slapping echoed in the car, the car violently shook at his animalistic pace. 

His small groans and your loud screams added to the mix of both his and your bodies stuck onto each other. 

Kaiser’s hand massaged your soft body, from your thighs, hips to your waist. His eyes bloodshots and pupils dilated like he’s under a hex.

“So fucking tight for me, engel even after all that tongue fucking” he wrapped both his hands around your waist, digging his thumbs into your stomach which had you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his lower back. 

“You might end up pregnant if you do that shit” he smirked, nibbling on your jaw making you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, i'm on birth control” 

“So, can I cum inside?” 

You bit the sides of your cheek, looking up at him, it was hard to see his face as it got darker but you knew he was looking back.

A small nod and a hum of agreement was all he needed before he pulled back and thrusted into you with no remorse, kaiser’s pelvis flush against your skin. His pace was rough and fast with long thrusts. 

The sound of his cock fucking you silly filled the idle but shaking car. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, while you cried out for him. 

“Mihya!! Fuck! Fuck! More, please” you begged for him as if he wasn’t already inside of you. 

“Do you hear that, baby?” he referred to the sound your soaking pussy was making as it swallowed his cock.

“So wet f’me.. Imagine if your ex saw you like this. Taking every inch of his best friend’s cock. He’d freak.”

He laughed like a menace, biting down on your collar bone. Your throat going dry from crying out and screaming Michael's name. It’s like all the water from your body was emptied out, you felt thirsty but not for water. 

Kaiser’s forehead glistened with sweat, his hands moved from your waist to your plump thighs, pushing them up to your chest, practically folding you in half. 

Your pussy throbbed around his length. 

“Doing so fuckin’ good for me, engel. You take it like such a good girl” 

He cooed, his voice raspy, you gripped the sides of the car seat, leaning up to sloppily kiss him.

“Kaiser! D-don’t stop-p” the words coming out broken, like a sob. Tears rolled down your face as he thrusted inside you at an animalistic pace. 

He put your legs on his shoulders, before moving down to take your nipples in his mouth and the other in his large hands. Rolling the tight bud between his fingers and the other has his teeth around it. 

“You’re a slut for my cock, baby. Look at how your going cross eyed and your tongue is hanging out.” 

“Makes me wanna ruin you, rearrange your inside, do everything no other man could do.” 

He growled against your skin. His words made your pussy spasm, tightening around his cock. 

“Kais- kai ‘m close.. So cl-close” throwing your arms around his neck, your nails scratching down his back. 

He hissed, biting down on the nipple until a metallic taste exploded in his mouth. You whimpered, but he couldn’t care less. He left hickies down your chest. 

“He could never fuck you like this, look at how you suck my cock inside, you’re fucking swallowing it whole, you dirty slut. I'm gonna cum so deep inside you.”

He groaned, his voice coming out muffled as he buried it in your neck.

“Cum for me, engel” 

Kissing your neck, you cried out, tightening your grip around his neck, your pussy choked his cock which was all he needed to empty his load inside of you. A mere two or three thrusts had you painting his cock white. 

A cruel smirk grew on his lip. He pressed his hand down on your stomach. 

“Can you feel my cum inside you, y/n” kissing the side of your lips, you let out a shaky breath, coming down from your high. Legs shaking as they dropped from his shoulders. 

“You’ve gone silent.” he mumbled, his large body collapsing on top of you, making you groan. 

“I'm recovering from the shock of how good your dick is” your voice coming out slightly hoarse. “Jesus, how bad was your man in bed?” he laughed, genuinely laughed at what you said.

“Fucking horrible. I had to get off by myself every time. He would cum in 2 minutes and fall asleep. And he had a small dick” 

“Figures, i'm not surprised, he had a woman like you and fumbled so hard, he couldn’t recover from this even 4 generations down the line.”

You giggled at how serious kaiser sounded, his head rested on your chest, his cock gone soft now but it was still inside you. As if to stop his cum from leaking out. 

Wrapping both your arms around his neck, running a soft hand through his hair. 

“You’re sweaty”

“So are you, mihya” he smiled against your skin. Kissing your chest. The car fell silent and you swore the only thing that could be heard was your heartbeat.

“I can hear it.”

“Hear what?” you mumbled, eyes feeling heavy

“Your heartbeat, it's fast”

“Thank god, i might’ve been dead without it”

“pfft- really? That’s crazy”

Once again it was silent. But it wasn’t awkward. It felt… intimate.. More intimate than the sex. The way your fingers soothingly ran through his blond hair, his head resting on top of you, relaxing to the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

“Hey, mihya..”

“Hmm?”

“Happy new years”

It's like a spell was broken, kaiser got up, looking at you confused. Get sat up on his knees, between your thighs. Reaching over to the glove box and grabbing his phone to see the date and time. 

00:10 (12:10A.M) Jan 1st, 2025

“Fuck, how’d i not know today was new years eve” 

“What the fuck” you deadpanned 

“How can you not know the date” 

He looked down at you, leaning in to kiss you, gently. Which caught you off guard but you kissed back, he licked your bottom lip, his piercing running along your skin. You trembled as he moved back.

“Happy new years, mein schatz”

“What’s with all these nicknames, huh?” 

“Someone as perfect as you needs all of them, not only one” laughing under your breath, you glanced up at him. The moment soon died when he pulled out of you, his cum dripped out your pussy which had you gasping at the loss of warmth.

“Fucking hell- kaiser!” 

“‘M sorry, engel, i had to pull out eventually” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Running 2 fingers along your folds, he shoved some of his cum back inside. Your eyes narrowed on him, only for him to laugh it off. 

“Take me back to your place”

Kaiser leaned in, smirking against your ear.

“So we can go for round 3?”

“NO, You animal!”  

©2025 wakasasawifee do not copy, modify or translate my work

[scream4toji]

okok underground cage fighter toji all bloodied up *deeply inhales* i’ve been thinking of this for AGES. going to see him at a fight and watching him and then smut afterwards??? 👀

Bare-Knuckle Figher Toji x naive f. reader

(warning: Smut, +18 only nsfw, sex, unprotected sex, mention of blood, mention of act of exhibitionism, some grammatical errors- was rushing)

2.2k

It was the brawl of the year. A crowd had gathered to witness Toji Fushiguro bare-knuckle his way to the top, cementing his reputation in the underground scene. This was your first time attending one of these illegal fights. Watching people beat each other bloody, only to get stitched up by some quack doctor and thrown back into the cage like bait meat, had never appealed to you. But when your friends offered an extra ticket, it felt better than staying home and mindlessly flipping through channels.

What you didn't expect was for you to blend in with the crowd and start cheering. Throwing fists in the air every time HE landed a punch on his opponent. Each shout from the audience felt like an extra shot of adrenaline pumping through your body. Your eyes were dilated to take in the bloody scene, capturing each moment, mesmerized by the man who was fighting for his life. It wasn't the fight sucking you in. It was HIM.

And as you got closer to the cage, your fingers curled around the metallic wires, your heart racing to the rhythm of the chants ‘TOJI TOJI TOJi’ and your eyes locked for a brief moment.

In that brief moment, you notice his dull green eyes had faded. He received a heavy blow to the side of his face, and his handsome face was suddenly covered in blood from a busted nose and lip. All because he got distracted for a split second. Of course, you blamed yourself. But maybe he wasn't looking at you? Maybe it was someone else in the crowd he had captured with his gaze and allured them towards his heart. Yeah….why the hell would he be staring at you? Someone who wasn't really interested in this illegal barbaric sport yet you could watch him brawl for hours. You already planned to look up his Instagram and watch his training videos.

Luckily, a bloody lip and nose did not seem to affect Toji. For some reason, he caught a second wind and was landing punches with a newfound desire to win. He felt revived and perhaps the bloody face woke him up from his daze because he won the match and the crowd cheered frantically. The frenzy was unreal. And soon you were pushed to the back of the horde as everyone frantically moved ahead to get a good look at their champion. Eventually, he was out of your sight and your grasp. That was the end of your short-lived fantasy.

—————-

You were waiting outside for your Uber. It was a cold winter night and you didn't exactly dress weather-appropriate. You were told it would be hot and suffocating in the basement of the bar and so you wore a skirt and a tank top. Luckily you had a hoodie to shield your upper body from the cold air. But your legs felt like stiff rods.

It was 11pm and the post-match party was fully underway. More people were dropping by to attend the party. You had work tomorrow so it was best to wrap up your little nightly adventure and head home, with a new interest at heart. His bloodied-up face flashed before your eyes and how your eyes met for a brief moment. That split second spoke volumes. It was enough for you to fall for him.

But you will never see him again. This was a one-night experience because it was really hard to get tickets for illicit events.

Your phone dings. Your Uber is here. As you step forward to get into the Toyota Camry, someone else steps forward and proceeds to open the door. You look up and notice a large muscular man in a hoodie trying to steal your ride. You glance at your phone to confirm the licence plate before you make your next move.

“Hey Excuse me! This is my ride!”, you explain with a bit of attitude in your voice.

The man turned around and you barely got a glimpse of his features under the hood but you recognized him immediately! From this day forth you will always recognize him.

It was the fighter who captured your heart. Toji Fushiguro. Your heart quivered and your knees were about to buckle. His face was patched up good. Tissues stuffed up his bloody nose and a steri-strip on the side of his lip that was sure to leave a scar.

“Ya sure bout that?”, he asked while opening the car door for himself. You also noticed his bandaged-up knuckles and taped wrist.

“Um ya. But that's ok. I’ll call another”. Your tone was quick to change.

“Nah… ya paid for this one. I thought it was a taxi”, he said and was about to step back from the car but stopped when his manager walked out of the building.

“Hey Toji. Can’t have ya staying the night on your own. You just got a damn good concussion and need monitoring”, his manager, Shiu, explained.

Shiu looked at you and then back at Toji and then back at you. Of course he misunderstood the situation. “Unless you picked up a fine date and plan to spend the night together”, Shiu continued.

Toji wasn't ready to be lectured. He rests his hand across your shoulder and begins to lead you towards the Uber. “Just play along”, he whispered once he got you into the car and slid in beside you. He looked out at Shiu and gave him a ‘happy mom?’ look and his manager just gave him the middle finger and walked away.

It happened all so fast. Your heart was pounding and his arm was still casually resting on your back. Toji could most definitely feel your intense heart racing. The car began its journey towards its destination, your house.

“Sorry doll. He can be such a pain ‘n the ass”, he spoke, his voice muffling out the thumping of your heartbeat.

“It's alright”. That was all you could manage to say. You opened your mouth several times but would quickly seal your lips back up.

“So ya live ‘round here?”, he asked while lowering the hood of his hoodie as he felt he was safe to expose himself.

“Yeah. 10-minute drive. You?”, you stupidly ask. As if a famous guy engaging in illegal activities would reveal his whereabouts.

“Out in the country with the cows. So….”, there was a long pause from him as he stared at you. You looked up at him and a bright blush spread across your cheeks from his intense gaze. “I saw ya watchin’ my match earlier. You like fights?”

“Um no…” you replied, unable to even process what he just asked. Your nervous brain fog was kicking in.

“Well you sure were into it. You like to see me fight?”, he asked again, trying to understand you.

“Ya”. Again you just stared at him, honest with your answers but also not giving much for him to work with.

“Is that so”, he chuckled. He realized his nostrils were still stuffed with bloody tissues. He removed them quickly and tossed them out of the window. “So you gonna take care of me?”, he asked.

“Pardon?” His question pulled you out of the star-struck daze.

“Take care of me? Can't be left alone, remember? Got hit in the head too many times”, he poked the side of his forehead with the index finger.

“Oh!” Why couldn’t you string up a decent sentence?

“Oh? Gonna take that as a no?”, he tried to confirm. Your nervous behaviour was quite endearing in his eyes.

“No. Yes. I mean….”, you try to get the words out but no matter how you answered him, you were defeated by your own tongue.

Toji chuckled and shifted in the car seat so his thigh was rubbing against your bare legs. “Ya got 5 more minutes to decide doll. Or else I gotta order me another ride”, he whispered into your ear, his patched-up hand resting on your thigh under your skirt, his intentions became clear.

————-

You tried to offer him some tea or a meal but he refused. He was only interested in one meal, you. He sat on the couch, his eyes watching you closely, studying your every move. That had become a habit as a fighter, watching people how they moved and predicting their next series of maneuvers.

You sit beside him, a TV remote in one hand and you start fidgeting with the channels. It may feel like you were acting like a nervous child but could he blame you? This was the first time you ever brought in a random stranger into your house whom you just met for barely 10 minutes and all you knew was his name, his occupation and the name of his manager. For all you know, he could be a killer or hitman on the side. One thing was for certain, you came to realize you had a knack for bloodied-up muscular men who can fight a good fight.

He noticed you side-eyeing him from time to time. He pulled off his hoodie to reveal his toned muscular body, the tight compression clothing fully displaying his assets. He leaned back into the couch with his heavy arm resting on the back of the couch, behind you.

You give him some more side eyes, your thighs now rubbing against each other to ease off the burning heat. Of course any subtle movements and he would be quick to notice.

“Gettin’ a little hot down there?”, he asked shamelessly.

Your eyes are wide in shock and you just focus straight ahead at the TV to avoid his question.

He lowers his hand down towards your thigh and you allow him to crawl under your skirt. His bandaged hands felt rough on your smooth soft skin.

He casually lifts up your skirt and leans forward and clicks his tongue. You were wearing light purple underwear and there was an obvious wet spot between your plush thighs.

“Gettin’ very hot down there”, he answered his previous question.

You could be dying from embarrassment right now but your primal urges took over and you spread open your legs to give him a better view and access. His own dick was ready to spring out but he had to make sure you were ready for it.

He humbled you. He fuck'n humbled you when he slid off the couch and onto his knees, face buried between your thighs, his tongue flicking to taste the arousal that soaked through the fabric.

Knees locked, legs stiffened, your fingers digging through his scalp. He wasn’t just a master fighter. His tongue found your harden clit and he had you cumming in no time, panties on and everything.

Your body was trembling and he lowered your panties down your thighs to watch your pussy lips flutter from the aftershocks. He hummed to himself with deep satisfaction.

He stood up to remove his hard cock from his tight pants. You kicked off your panties while watching him stroke his length, observing it grow further with each stroke. You could just make it a hobby to stare at this man stroking his veiny shaft with his patched-up beaten fists.

Toji was surprisingly gentle when he entered you. He kissed you on the lips and threw both your legs over his broad shoulders before pushing past your folds. He made sure he started off slow in case he hit a barrier of some kind. He didn’t. So he pressed in deeper until all his length disappeared and settled inside you. “Takin’ it all like a champ. Well done doll”. He grinned as your walls tightened around his length, massaging him and begging for him to move. “Ya like it rough?”, he asked, not moving because he wanted you to tell him how you liked it.

“Yes”.

“Gonna need more than a yes doll. Come on. Tell Champ Toji how ya like to be fucked”. He slid in and out just a little, teasing the end of your tunnel with a kiss from his tip. You could feel some of his precum pooling inside.

“Hard. Please go a little harder!”, you begged, the slow pace killing you. You wanted it a little rough. You wanted a taste of his raw strength that you fell so much in love with while witnessing his fight earlier.

Toji didn’t need to be told twice and his hips were already in formation and now hammering away into your greedy pussy, folding and moulding your body further into the soft cushions of the couch.

The sound of skin slapping reminded you of the bare punches he landed on his opponents. His grunts and groans behind each thrust took you back to the fight. You closed your eyes and imagined him fucking you in the cage. Instead of blood, your bodies are covered in sweat and cum. Your moans are muffled by the sound of the roaring crowd cheering you on as he has a marathon of sex in front of his fans, personally claiming you in front of them all.

Your eyes snapped wide open when he came deep inside you, his warm seed forcing you back to reality. You were back on your couch and his hips were still moving despite dumping a hefty load inside you.

“Mmm passed out there for a second doll. Ya ok?”

You just nod your head a ‘yes’.

“Good. Cause I’m just gettin’ started”.

This was not a one-nighter. No. Toji became so fond of you and your hot pussy that a month later he invited you to play out your perverted fantasy after an intense victorious fight. Whether you fancied an audience or not was left to your judgment.