#its slowly turning into twitter

[neon-witch-ritual]

@biggest-gaudiest-patronuses

Who let you out of your cage and onto a pan?

[saintvampe]

seraphina as a slightly odd motherly figure.

[meejijis]

Crazy how a couple of years ago when the dark times from 2016 to 2018 of the dsp fandom vs the dsp critical blogs fandom wars was around, the same anti that used to "call" me out for shipping a height gap pairing spreading misinfo saying im a p word and harassed/send hate other ppl in the dsp fandom alongside the other dsp critical blogs is somehow still an anti and still acts like an anti at the age of 25. That's sad.

[starkeyisthelastname]

had the absolutely SINFUL thought of reader getting pornstar! Rafe to take photos of her pussy after he creampies it for her only fans

ooooo yes 💦😩

You not only filmed for larger porn companies, but had your own little OnlyFans on the side. Thats how you got started and discovered, a viral video of you that found its way on Twitter. You didn’t post as much as you had use to, with professional filming throughout the week taking most of your time. Most not if all your videos were solos or sexy pictures after you had just done on set, and were freshly fucked.

The constant hate you had received after people found out that the pussy slayer himself was fucking you more than once, had made you upset for the first few weeks. You weren’t use to getting blasted on social media, and the spew of jealous bitches seemed to be never ending. If you were truly the only girl Rafe was fucking more than once, then maybe you needed to turn this negative into a positive and play back.

You were a gasping mess per usual, eyes rolled back and legs spread wide as Rafe’s hung cock pounded into your wanting hole. You were so greedy for him, there was no way that his dick was not made for you. As much as you loved getting paid for having sex on camera, it was almost starting to become a nuisance. You had been faking orgasms every scene you filmed that wasn’t Rafe as he had kept his promise of ruining your holes for anyone else.

“You like that shit whore? Who’s fuckin dick you makin a mess on?” Rafe asked through gritted white teeth, his hand giving you a light but firm slap to your cheek as he continued his brutal pounding.

It amazed you how this man could make you dumb on the dick with such ease. It was like you were learning how to talk again while he gave you pipe, your words slurred and broken as you tried to figure it out. Another slap to your sparkly cheek though, had you snapping out of it real quick as his thrusts slowed down. “You really think I’m playin today? You want Rafe Cameron’s nut in your pussy, I suggest you start speaking the fuck up.” His cerulean eyes completely dark, something you had learned about him when he was close to coming undone himself.

You whined pathetically, knowing you did. Every time he filled your pussy up with his seed, it almost made you feel like you belonged to him in such a deeper way. His dirty words were always a catalyst for throwing you over the edge to your climax, your sopping cunt sucking him as you pleaded him to not slow down. “No no no…. don’t slow down. I need it Rafe… I’m makin a mess a-all over your big cock!” You blabbered incoherently, his thrusts speeding back up as soon as you said his name.

Your words didn’t make much sense, but that didn’t matter to you when he squeezed your throat as you came all over him and a few thrusts later he was spilling himself inside you with a string of loud grunts and nasty words. It was when he slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, that he leaned back to admire his work. “Such a pretty fuckin pussy filled with my cum.” He mumbled, a blissful smile spreading across your beautiful face.

“Take a picture. I wanna see…” You said softly, an idea coming to your head as you reached for your phone. Not only were you uploading these to your OnlyFans for a little refresher and new content, you were about to make all those other hoes big mad by posting it on Twitter.

There were two pictures with the flash on and a 10 second video of Rafe’s digits spreading your pussy lips open to show his cum spilling out of your fucked out hole and onto the sheets of his bed. Anyone who knew Rafe, knew he always wore a distinct gold signet ring on his index finger. So when you uploaded the video to Twitter with the caption ‘Y’all can still be mad😢 but guess who’s getting creampied by him? Not you. 🤣’

Let’s just say… you got your little revenge.

[xo100]

Hi there!! Could I ask Lando with a singer or a dancer reader?? They are already dating, but haven’t made it officially yet to the public. Lando surprises the reader by attending to the readers tour and fans are going feral about him being there, because it’s a “duo” they didn’t knew they needed. After the show he comes backstage to the reader and they make the relationship public with the pictures of them being backstage or something. Just really sweet and fluffy. Thank you❤️

A surprise in the spotlight - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 781

*:･ﾟ A/N: hey loves! I just wanted to let you know that I have another blog called @norrisxwrites on this blog I will reblog your reblogs. I’ll reblog my posts and other posts! Go check it out if you want posting there soon! Enjoy the fic!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The stadium buzzed with the excitement only a sold-out concert could bring. The energy was palpable, like a living, breathing thing, as fans spilled into their seats with glowing bracelets and homemade signs. This was your tour, the biggest one yet, and it had been months of grueling rehearsals, endless interviews, and nights spent missing the man who’d somehow slipped into your life and turned it upside down.

That man, Lando Norris, Formula 1’s rising star and everyone’s favorite cheeky Brit, was supposed to be halfway across the world, prepping for the next Grand Prix. At least, that’s what he’d told you over FaceTime just two days ago.

But Lando had never been great at following the rules—especially when it came to staying away from you for too long.

-

It wasn’t until the third song of the set that whispers started spreading through the crowd. Something was happening near the back, a ripple of excitement weaving its way forward. The screens overhead briefly panned across the audience, and there he was, seated among the fans in a hoodie and cap pulled low but not low enough to fool anyone.

The stadium erupted.

“Is that Lando Norris?” someone screamed.

“He’s at her concert?” another gasped.

The internet moved faster than the speed of sound. Within moments, Twitter was ablaze with shaky screenshots and wild speculations.

-Are they dating?!- -This is the crossover I didn’t know I needed!- -Lando and Y/N??? MY HEART.-

Onstage, you were mid-chorus, but the sudden roar from the crowd was hard to ignore. Your eyes scanned the sea of people, your heart stuttering when you spotted him. Lando gave a small wave, his smile tugging at the edges of his mouth like he couldn’t quite contain it.

You fought the urge to break character, biting back a grin as you returned your focus to the performance. But your cheeks were warm, and the butterflies in your stomach were undeniable.

-

The show ended with an encore, the crowd’s energy lingering in the air as fans slowly filed out. You darted backstage, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, only to stop short when you saw him leaning casually against the wall near your dressing room.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Lando said, his voice warm and teasing.

You couldn’t help it—you threw yourself into his arms, the scent of his cologne instantly grounding you. He caught you effortlessly, his laughter soft against your hair as he held you close.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your words muffled against his chest.

“Surprising you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Missed you too much. Figured it was time I crashed one of your shows.”

Your heart swelled. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Only for you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your waist. “You were incredible out there. I mean, I knew you were good, but seeing you like this…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You’re amazing, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice left you momentarily speechless, your cheeks heating under his gaze. “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Norris. Though I think you’ve caused a bit of a stir.”

Lando smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Oh, I noticed. Your fans are relentless. Think I saw my name trending on Twitter halfway through the third song.”

“Serves you right,” you teased, but the warmth in your voice gave you away.

-

You didn’t plan to go public with your relationship that night, but when your manager walked in, phone in hand, and said, “We’ve got paparazzi swarming the back exit,” you knew it was inevitable.

Lando squeezed your hand, his touch steadying. “If you’re ready, I am.”

“You mean it?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

He kissed your forehead, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The chaos, the cameras, the noise—it all felt distant, insignificant compared to him.

The two of you walked out together, hand in hand, the backstage photographer snapping candid shots that would be on every gossip site by morning. You didn’t care.

Later, in the car, Lando scrolled through the early posts. He turned his phone to you, showing a picture of the two of you backstage, mid-laugh, your fingers laced together.

“‘The duo we didn’t know we needed,’” he read aloud, chuckling. “Not bad, huh?”

You leaned against his shoulder, your smile soft. “Not bad at all.”

And as the city lights blurred past the windows, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

[arieslost]

personally since I want to take a nice bite outta oscar (and you do too)

what about an oscar x gf!reader who just constantly bites him, not hard enough to leave a mark (thats only in bed) but just a little chomp

like he has an arm around her shoulder while talking to Lando and she just turns her head and *chomp*

lord knows i wanna give that man a nice little monch. just a little 🤏🏻 little bit

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

chomp | op81

something about oscar unlocked the habit within you. he’s just so… yummy. all the time. so one day you acted on the urge to bite him. you did it gently, just barely sinking your teeth into the skin covering the taunt muscle of his bicep when you were cuddled up together in bed. he liked it; encouraged it even, so you never really looked back.

instead of “pinch me,” he soon adopted the phrase “bite me” in its place. it was just an affectionate thing that you did when your feelings for him became so overwhelming words failed you. it happens more often than not— just looking at him and knowing he’s yours is enough to render you speechless.

his instant enjoyment of your gentle bites had you dismissing the behavior as normal quickly, so it now comes as a surprise to you when other people have a visceral reaction to it.

you never pay much mind to what people say on social media, particularly twitter, but almost every day you’re greeted with the sight of you being caught biting oscar and hundreds of people asking what your problem is. it mostly stemmed from the one time that oscar asked (more like begged) you to leave a mark in the throes of a passion-charged moment that happened the night before qualifying and thus it was clear as day to everyone in the paddock the next morning.

you were usually careful to bite parts of him that were almost always concealed. his thighs, his hips, his shoulders, the junction between his shoulder and neck. but he’d been adamant that you bite his neck and leave a mark, and who were you to tell him no? so the whole world ended up becoming privy to your little habit. but oscar never gave anyone the time of day when asked about it, so it never crossed your mind to stop.

now, lando had been the very first to tease him about that infamous mark on his neck, but he’d never been there to see it happen. until today.

oscar had insisted that you join him while he and lando were waiting to be called in for a race debrief, with the promise that he’d take you out for dinner afterwards. you’re always happy to spend extra time with your boyfriend, of course, so you were more than happy to agree.

except lando has a special talent for boring you out of your mind with extremely technical talk. and he loves to talk. you need something to do in order to not implode from boredom, and oscar’s arm is right there, wrapped around your shoulders, so you turn your head and lightly bite the thin skin of his wrist.

the sudden silence is deafening as lando stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

“i thought that was just a weird rumor. you actually bite him?” lando asks.

“um, yeah,” you reply slowly. “so?”

“got a problem with my girlfriend, mate?” you can feel the muscles of your boyfriend’s arm flexing around you as he tenses up a little.

“nope. no. not at all,” his teammate is quick to respond, hand reaching back to scratch his neck. “carry on. i’ll just act like i’m not here.”

so you do, biting him a little harder as a silent chill out. he just kisses your temple, stifling his laughter.

when it’s finally time for their meeting, you’ve traveled from oscar’s wrist all the way up to the inside of his elbow, grazing your teeth along his skin and inhaling his addictive scent. you’d happily do this for hours, and you pout when he separates himself from you.

as an apology, he leaves you with a parting whisper of, “you’re gonna bite me harder than that tonight, right?” that has your whole body heating up.

word count: 638

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: hope u enjoyed this <3 definitely not self indulgent for myself and venus at all!!!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo @ahgase99 @ferrarisfailedstrats @levidazai @brune77e

[theonottsbxtch]

can you do a bonus part to your franco x piastri!reader series, where the rest of the grid reacts to their relationship

THE OTHER GUY BONUS PART | FC43

an: i really enjoyed giving you guys this bonus part, they're so cute i love them so much

fc: random brunettes on pintrest

twitter

interview with yn piastri

The bright lights of the paddock press conference feel warmer than usual, or maybe it’s just the tension in the air. You’re sitting in front of a lady who pulled you aside for a quick interview, her eyes sharp, knowing that every word, every glance, will be dissected later. The end of the Formula 1 season always brings its own frenzy, but this time, all the focus is on you. You could feel the attention, the hum of anticipation in the air.

The interviewer leans forward, a grin on her face as she adjusted her microphone. You knew what was coming. After weeks of speculation, cryptic posts, and a whirlwind of gossip, it was finally out. She was most definitely about to ask the question that has been burning on everyone’s mind.

“What a way to end the season, yn,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “That was quite a statement you made.” There was a pause, just long enough for the her to try and get you to say something. “Franco Colapinto. What a bold choice.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your legs slowly, letting the moment linger. You watched as she waited for your response, hanging on your every word. You smirked, leaning into the mic just a little.

“What can I say?” you shrugged nonchalantly, though you knew exactly what you were doing. “I pitied the guy.”

You could see the corners of her mouth twitch, trying to hold back a laugh. She wanted more, they always did.

“Is that all?” the interviewer presses, her tone playful but probing, looking for cracks.

You didn't flinch, not even a bit. You’d played this game long enough, and you knew how to stay on top. Your lips curved into a smirk, your eyes narrowing slightly in mischief.

“Yup,” you said, keeping your voice light, almost bored. “This is my charity work for the year.”

The interviewer burst out into laughter. You let the words hang in the air, knowing full well they would be all over the headlines tomorrow. But before the interviewer could push further, you felt a warm presence behind you, familiar hands sliding around your waist.

You stiffened for just a second, caught off guard—not by the touch itself, but by the timing of it. You knew it was him. Franco pulled you closer, his chest pressed against your back, his scent—clean and comforting—filling your senses. You could hear the faintest murmur of his breath against your ear before he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, completely unbothered by the cameras flashing all around. His embrace was steady, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

The room fell into an almost stunned silence, as the interviewer watched the two of you, waiting for the next bite of drama. But there was nothing left for them to feed on.

The interviewer’s eyes widened slightly, clearly trying to decide whether to ask more or just let this moment speak for itself. She cleared her throat, a little flustered by the sudden turn.

“Well, I think that’s a perfect note to end on,” she said with a nervous chuckle, glancing between you and Franco. “Thank you, yn, Franco. I’m sure we’ll all be talking about this for a while.”

lando norris twitch stream

williamsracing

liked by ynpiastri, francolapinto, alex_albon and 984,247 others

a surprise visit from our favourite internet sensation

*tap to load more comments*

francolpainto: muyyy lindaaa

userone: i'm telling my kids they were romeo and juliet

usertwo: best wag ever

lilymhe: how he pulled her will always remain a mystery

oscarpiastri: @/ynpiastri i'm telling mum you're a traitor

f1 posted a new video

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0 @st4rgirl-ellie @dullypully @cinderellawithashoe

[scoutswritingcorner]

What a Weird Cat

Cursed Cat Alastor x GN! Reader

PLATONIC

A/N: I keep seeing Cursed Cat Alastor on my twitter so yeah- I wanted to write a fic about it.

TW: Talks about cannibalism.

You find this weird alastor looking cat and it immediately takes a liking to your presence.

You couldn’t find Alastor anywhere today, you guessed he had a meeting or went to go visit Rosie. You hummed and placed the book he lent you down on the counter tapping it absentmindedly as you listened to the jazz from the radio that sat on the corner of the bar, trying to figure out how to give it back to him without forgetting the whole book itself if you got distracted. 

Your thoughts were cut short as loud static crackled and you felt something with sharp claws hit at your hand as you tapped away. Looking down at the presence your jaw fell open. What the fuck is this? It looked like Alastor but much more deranged and feral also in cat form, its eyes pointing in two different directions as it stopped pawing at your hand as its grin went back to its relaxed state. The static immediately stopped and it went back to sitting down in a loaf form as it listened to the jazz play from the radio. But it didn’t stop staring at you. Huh….this was a weird cat.

You don’t know how long you both stared at one another but you slowly reached your hand over, watching as its eyes snapped towards your hand immediately. You stopped for a second before reaching down and carefully scratching its head between its ears. The cat slowly closed its eyes and soft quiet static returned but in a way it sounded like purring. “Sorry for interrupting your music, little guy.” You whisper, removing your hand from it and standing up, walking off to go get ready to run some errands for a bit to keep yourself busy while Alastor returns. Unaware how the static like purring immediately stopped from the cat as it watched you walk off slowly moving to lay on the book.

~~~

A couple hours later you had returned to find the cat now staring you down in front of your bedroom door. An arm from a poor sinner dragged all the way up to your room as the cat stared at you. Not moving and only smiling with the arm laying at its feet. “H-Have a good hunt, friend?” You asked, watching as the smile grew and the static it produced grew louder in response as if agreeing with your statement. You chuckled and walked over to open your door, “Fine you can stay with me but no bringing bloodied body parts on the bed.” You chuckled out walking in to put the bags you were holding down.

You turned your back for a moment only to hear something being dragged and a little pitter patter of its feet hitting the floor as it entered your room. You turned around to see the cat sitting in the armchair Alastor always sat happily chewing away on the arm. You smiled walking over to the radio he had and turned it on, Alastor’s voice playing through it. He was finally back from wherever he went before and now was doing his broadcast. 

You turned and sat on the other armchair in your room after grabbing another book. This time Rosie had suggested it and you were ready to start reading it. You don’t remember when but the next time you looked down, the cat was now sitting in your lap curled up as it silently purred, still listening to Alastor’s broadcast. Your hand reached down and gently patted it as you turned your attention back to the book.

It’s little tail starts to wag as you pay attention to it. Much like Alastor, it couldn’t get enough of your attention.

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Series Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,800+

Synopsis: There was something not right about this scenario. Fear gripped you as you lay helpless and quivering beneath a figure you had never met. Fear gripped you, and the cusps of reality slipped further from you the deeper you gave in to his motions.

Themes: Accursed Prince Loki x afab!reader, dub con, non con hinted, size difference: extra large, Elbaf spoiler warning, NSFW, 18+, MDNI, smut, nightmares, terror themes, threats, violence threatened, fear, enemies that remain enemies.

Notes: Art by @skullfacedlady, to whom this fic is dedicated to because she needs more content with this beautiful, terrifying man. It is also not how I regularly write this little series, but I couldn't resist a little twist because my hand slipped. Position also heavily inspired by @don-mellow's art on Twitter (NSFW link). Two beautiful artists making me fall in love with this accursed prince, and it's a long way to tumble.

The atmosphere was sparsely illuminated by dull tongues of fire. Flickering against the cobblestone and revealing the giant’s mane and helm, a sinister grin split up his cheeks as he stooped below towards your small, quivering frame.

“Poor tiny human,” he purrs down at you, his voice reverberating in the chasms of your chest and causing your lips to quiver in fright. “All afraid and shaking.”

The rattles of the chains shackling his wrists was the only forewarning he gave before your clothes were split and shredded by one deliberate swipe. Fear gripped you as you were now bare before the giant, your eyes widening and flesh puckering in the cool of the air.

“No need for that face,” he chuckled, reaching down and expelling his cock from its bonds in his leathery pants. The tip was blushed a pretty hue of red, now revealed with a crude slap of his shaft springing up and catching on his stomach. “I have no intention of hurting my little plaything. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

The shudder in your body was the only response you made, your voice physically unable to speak or scream at the man to halt his actions. He dove down towards you, throat chuckling as a hefty wave of his warm breath met your flushed skin.

“I just want a look,” he growled in a deep baritone, “Open your legs for me, or I will open them for you. Trust, plaything, the former would be far more pleasant for you. Ankles to your ass, knees to the side. Now.”

A sob hitched in your throat as you made to move your body. As he said, you drew your feet slowly up to the bottom of your ass and butterflied your knees out to the sides. Turning your face away from him, you clenched your eyes shut and whimpered as you felt the huffs of his breath journey ever closer.

“Would you look at that, wee plaything,” his voice held a tone of teasing to it, “Such a pretty, flushed cunt all there for the taking.”

You screamed at him internally, pleading and begging for him to not attempt to put his cock inside you. It would kill you, given the fact his cock was larger than the size of you in your entirety.

His meaty fingers brushed against your side, tickling you with his teasing advances. You flinched away from his touch, but it only made him all the more enthusiastic about your little display. Drawing his hand up your torso, he used one hand to draw up both of your wrists to pin above your head by a single index finger.

“You know when I said ‘I just want a look’ just now?” he growled, stooping ever closer to you and dragging his whiskered chin over your naked chest.

“I lied.”

Just as you opened your eyes and began to make a motion to scream at him to halt, his fat tongue fled from his lips and licked a long stripe from your cunt up to your head. The slippery saliva dampened your pores, nipples pebbling as his hot breath cooled your skin when impacting the stripe. Your legs threatened to close to avoid the cold, but that thought was all but sprung from your head when his tongue returned to you.

Through panted, muffled breaths, the larger giant growled at you as he drew his slippery organ up and down your body.

“If you close your legs, plaything,” he mouthed at your skin, taking your cunt and ass into his mouth and flicking his tongue in messy circles behind his lips, “I'll bite the fucking things off. Leave them parted.”

You screamed internally at the thought, actions frozen in place as your thighs and knees became damp within the giant’s mouth. His smile only grew when he tasted your arousal beginning to pool over his tongue. Drawing your ass away from his mouth, he focussed the attention of his tongue against your slit: flicking his larger tongue against your clit to the best of his focussed abilities.

His tongue was porous, feeling each dip and elevation due to the insane size difference. It was larger than any cock you had seen in the past. The tip alone, now pointed and focussed, being of greater size than any toy you had found for yourself.

While pinning you with one hand, he reached his cock and began pumping it below you both. The drooling cock head twitched with every down thrust, the veins flooding his shaft with desire only swelling his need for you.

“That's it,” he praised you, the vibrations of his voice causing you to wail and arch your back towards his touch, “Give in to it. I'm not going to stop. Too much fun to be had between us, plaything.”

You felt the first cusps of ecstasy call to you, tingling in your toes and swelling within your chest. The muted moans and cries fleeing your lips held a gloomy echo, your eyes refusing to make contact with the beast lurking below you as he consumed your lust and drove you off the cusps of insanity.

“I can feel how close you are,” he chuckled, fucking his fist by bucking his hips down, “Let me hear you scream for me.” His thrusts were as manic as his tongue continued to flicker and swirl against your cunt.

Instead of maintaining focus of simply the tip of his tongue alone, he moved back to lengthy stripes, dressing your ass, cunt, and chest in a marriage of his saliva and your arousal each time.

It felt wrong on more levels than simply one. This giant’s touch, the way you couldn't speak, how you had no true control over yourself or how you responded to his words or actions, it was all too wrong. Just as you shook your head to attempt to free you of this internal line of questioning, your stomach clenched and sparks began to fly behind your eyes.

Euphoria bloomed in your stomach and flooded your veins with sparks and lightning. Releasing your ecstasy over the giant's tongue while screaming out in bliss, the giant moaned and chuckled down at you. Lulling and lapping, he greedily overstimulated you while you rode the waves of your high.

Pulling away, a large string of saliva connected his tongue to your cunt while he rose away from your panting and heaving form. Pumping his cock viciously, his tip began to bubble pearls of precum into his fist.

“What a pretty plaything,” he groaned out for you, his voice picking up in the corners of his throat, “I'm going to paint you to claim as mine. Look up at me now, plaything.”

His demands had your eyes meeting with the concealed gaze behind cream-coloured bandages, before your vision blurred by a crude splash of his cum meeting your face. Ropes of hot white uncoiled and burned against your head, torso, thighs, and cunt: almost drowning you in the sheer size of his load. Coughing and spluttering was all you could do as the giant barked out a cackled string of laughter.

“We are going to have so much fun together,” the giant’s voice echoed within your ears, muffled by viscous cum flooding your features.

With a fit of fiery adrenaline, you tore your hands away from his grip and sat upright. Eyes wide and manic, you continued on to release a blood curdling scream that rang throughout your quarters. Body covered in sweat, breath hitching in fear, undergarments covered with your sticky release, your eyes immediately found the door as it flung wide.

Immediately springing towards you, hands of rubber surrounded your form and coiled around you. The familiar feeling of your captain surrounding you was not unwelcome. Your arms immediately found their way to wrap around his back and bury your head in the crook of his neck.

“I couldn't move, I couldn't speak,” you sobbed manickly, curling into the embrace with your tears dampening his red best, “I was stuck, helpless, afraid. I couldn't-.”

“-Shh,” he hushed you, speaking your name slowly and quietly as he nuzzled against your head, “I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Just breathe with me, okay? Just in and out slowly. Just like you're smelling some of Sanji’s barbeque and blowing on it because the meat’s too hot.”

In your manic state, you manage to chuckle through the tears as your captain empathetically mirrored your laughter. He tightened the grip he had on you, squeezing his eyes shut and calming himself down alongside you.

He was usually a deep sleeper, but there was something about the way you screamed that seemed all too familiar to him. The helplessness, the fear, the torment. It was not a good scream to hear from anyone, least of all from his counsellor.

He invited you to serve on his ship because you had a natural gift. He couldn't put a name to it, nor could you, but you seemed to harbor a great amount of knowledge of decisions that lead to the best and worse outcomes in any given situation. Similarly to the way Nami can read the weather, you have this intuition regarding the future, knowing what would come to pass before it ever occured.

It doesn't happen often, not ever to this degree, and it could've simply been a nightmare: but it was so vivid, it caused you such great distress. Not only the vision itself, but the content of it. It was like you were trapped, and there was no one there to save you.

“When you're ready, and if you're able,” Luffy whispered against your ear, still trying to have you breathe with him with his arms surrounding you, “Tell me what happened. I'll listen, no matter if it was just a sea cow eating a part of The Sunny.”

He pulled away from your head, peering down and beaming at you with a smile. You gazed up at him through damp lashes and felt your breath control return to you. At the door to your quarters, the remainder of the crew stood in a variety of dress: from pajamas to their regular clothes, they all stood waiting for your words to come to you.

“It was a giant,” you whimpered softly, design your eyes between the two caramel orbs harboring nothing but love and understanding down at you, “And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“We've fought giants before,” Luffy nodded down at you, his brilliant grin still shining down on you as he smoothed your scalp with his hand, “Nothing we can't handle. We'll be right there with you, fighting the thing to the death. You'll see.” He whispered your name, holding you close and nodding down.

“That's just the thing, Captain,” you whispered back at him, breath as chilled as the grave and teeth chattering with your confession.

“You weren't there.”

“I'll see you soon, little plaything.”

Deep within the bowels of Elbaf, the larger giant chuckled with a large grin splitting up his cheeks. Cum covering his his belly, sheet discarded alongside his pants hanging limply off his ankles, chains rattling on his wrists, he continued to bark out laughter as he drew his fingers and palm over his sticky release.

Gathering the seed in the pads of his fingertips and smearing it over his flesh, he sighed out with a touch of whimsy in his tone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄… | xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

⤷ art by @/Deltanpopo on twitter ! ❀

[ A coy thing, you are, daring to lie to them about your wellbeing. ]

— "I'm alright."

A scoff leaves XIAO's lips at your swift words, his mouth curling into a sneer, one absent of a smirk. His arms crossed over his chest, dark shadows cast over his eyes. "Come again?"

His glare was intense - dangerous, its malice not directed towards you, but instead to whatever had made you like... this. You could shield your form from his piercing gaze all you wanted. It'd do nothing to deter him. The knowledge he held of your character, the way your voice gave the slightest tremor, and the way your eyes slipped from his own... he let out a noise of annoyance.

"As I said, Xiao. I'm fine."

You were't a good liar. At least, from his knowing view. Unacceptable. His lashes fluttered as his eyes narrowed. Was he not reliable enough for the truth? Why was it that you'd refuse his assistance while you were clearly suffering?

"No." His voice was decisive, cold, but not in the manner of harsh, unforgiving ice, but the morning frost that bloomed on the dewy stalks of riverside reeds. "You aren't."

He felt your gaze pause at his lips, yet did not rise to meet his own. Your own mouth quivered, just the slightest, and you downcast eyes that glistened flicked their attention to the ground. "Xiao, I..."

You voice trails off. There's no need to say more. For you stood, enveloped in the adeptus' rare embrace, his pale skin cool, yet sparking an unquenchable warmth within your chest.

"If you aren't okay, that's okay. I'll just have to hold you in my arms, until you are." ₊˚ෆ

— "I'm alright."

A laugh escapes CHILDE's parted lips, a rather empty sound that resounded in your silence. It continues for a couple brief moments. "Ah, you're kidding, right?" He breaks into a smile that fades at the lack of your response. "Right?"

"Why would I be kidding?" You sighed, trying to sound as exasperated as possible. "I'm serious, Childe. I said I was fine." His gaze bore into you, to the point where you could feel your body smolder under his eyes. You shouldn't look at him now. Pursing your lips, you strengthened your resolve, but a moment of weakness upon hearing his shallow laughter was all it took to glance upwards. To meet his gaze.

A grave mistake, you had just unwittingly committed.

Before you could turn your head away, Childe's hand's caught you, one of them grabbing onto your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. "Say," his voice was low, quiet. A telltale sign of the anger that simmered underneath. "When did you get the notion that you'd be allowed to lie to me, and then get away with it scot-free, huh?"

The moment he had met your fleeting gaze, eyes locked onto yours, your verdict had been decided. Guilty. "Childe, it wasn't that I..."

"Oh, is it something you can't tell me, then?" His voice was softer now, but not in a threatening way, eyes melting with concern. Yes as much as he'd love to get at whatever - or whoever had made you so upset, he had a higher task of importance as of now. And that was to comfort the person before him, tentative under his touch. He slowly released his hold on your chin, instead giving your hair a ruffle that caused your locks to fly in disarray. "If so, then I won't push you anymore."

"I've... I've just had a really long day and-"

Your words lost their sound as instead, warmth replaced the quiet. Childe held you in his arms, delicately, like you were made of porcelain, and the slightest touch would shatter you. For someone as brash as him, to now stay silent, letting you let out all the world's concerns in his embrace...

"I won't say anything, alright? Just let it all out, and I'll listen." ₊˚ෆ

— "I'm alright."

At first, SCARAMOUCHE almost looks offended at your words. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are drawn into a scowl. "What, care to repeat that? It's funny how you think you're fooling anyone."

It takes a moment to find your voice again, with how intense his eyes stare into you - indigo, flashing with electro power. Mesmerizing, dangerous, lethal if you drew too close. It didn't matter you supposed, you had already been in his reach for far longer than you cared to admit, and you had yet to be burnt away. "...I'm alright, nothing happened."

This time, your answer drew a startling laugh that bubbled from deep within him, a carnal yet almost melodious sound that flowed like water and blazed like flames. "Ah, that's funny. You've been hanging around the other Fatui, haven't you?" His gaze narrowed in distaste. "Disgusting, all of them. And from the likes of it, you've been picking up some nasty habits as well. Speaking nothing but the truth to me should be a given, yet you're saying such things without the slightest guilty conscience... I couldn't help but laugh!"

Guilty conscience my ass. Of course it took something out of you to lie to your.. lover. Yes, despite it all, Scaramouche was the one you were joined hands with - even in the male didn't act like it. Or perhaps he did, in a world of his own masked away in a guise behind a guise. His spark just drew you closer.

"Scara, you wouldn't understand...!" Don't get aggravated, keep your voice composed, steady. "It's... it's something personal, alright? I just.. I just don't want to talk about it right now. Give me time, please."

Please? His maniacal expression dimmed as he paused, just a brief moment. He hadn't hurt you, had he? No, you knew him well, well enough to know that that was just the person he was, didn't you? "...So it was like that?" He tried to hide his apologetic expression with a hand over the lower half of his face, but his eyes glistened regardless.

"Ah, just forget about it. If you're hurting, then... Come here, all right? I'll humor you, just for tonight." ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) okay okay so. i. im gonna try and post a fic every day this week. spoiler alert: its fucking exam week BUTBUT BUT im so close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be so silly if we could hit it before new years!! that's why im gonna be listening to burnout playlists while typing away like my life depends on it.// wish me luck on my exams ahah. theyre tommorrow.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[choccy-milky]

I dont know why I had this vision of clora riding a scooter, like a cute light blue one with italy vibes, like a vespa, and sebastian panicking behind her LMAO

I SEE THE VISION AS WELL...idk how shes on a vespa tho since they werent invented yet so lets just assume theres time-turner shenanigans going on LMAO

but also anon this request was so funny to me because the SAME day you sent me it, i also got this one on twitter:

TRULY THE DUALITY OF MAN IS AT PLAY HERE!!! LMAOO debauchery vs wholesomeness...and it made me laugh so much

(and for anyone curious yes i WILL also be honouring the other request......eventually👀)

@jstfndmthngs splitting your ask into 2 again bc its a CHONKER but I LOVED READING IT🥹🥹 "how much they love each other to the abnormal level that i envy" LMAOO THATS FANFICTION FOR YOU, BABY!!😍 also YESS interacting with my readers in the comments was my fav parts of writing a lot of the time, and im SOOO grateful to the ppl who commented bc without them the story would have turned out DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT. like, i know there are some people who write the entirety of their fanfic and then upload it in chunks, but if i had done that/written my story in a vacuum and hadnt incorporated any of my readers ideas/suggestions it would have been SOOOO much worse honestly LMAO. like, not even necessarily putting their requests or ideas in my fic, but even sometimes just reading a comment that would say something like "i cant wait to see how clora/seb reacts to..." would make me think...oh. i was never planning on even showing their reaction to that. but now that they say that, good point, i definitely need to include that LOL. so yeah even just little stuff like that was SUPER important to my writing process and my story and helped me keep in mind what people wanted to see/things i may have missed or glossed over if i'd been writing by myself, but i also just loved getting comments in general bc i loved reading them and they were so motivating🥹 BUT THANK U SO MUCH IM GLAD U LIKED MY STORY/SEB & CLORA SO MUCH, AND TY FOR SHARING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME!!🥹💖💖 im lowkey the same way... i cant read any other fics rn bc im still too attached to seb/clora BAHAHA so i still need to give it some time before i delve into other HL fics (i even downloaded a program that will let me replace names so that i can replace the mc's name with clora's LMFAOOOO THATS HOW MENTALLY ILL I AM ABOUT THEM!!😭😭DONT COME FOR ME🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🚓)

omg...i already love unlocking kinks in people but for it to be specifically seb x clora is even more of an honour BAHAHA omg i love that....but i get it too. clora is submissive and breedable af😍LMAOO (im sorry💀that wasnt me just now that was seb blame him)

@acrenna MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS AND ALSO LATE HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! this is so sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭im happy my story was able to get you out of your reading slump!! (and hopefully will continue to, with my oneshot im slowly but surely working on😩) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN I APPRECIATE YOU SM🥹🥹💖

@misskkfritz you actually arent the first to say this and i also saw a pinterest comment on my art say this........FELLAS DO I NEED TO WATCH GILMORE GIRLS NOW🤔🤔🤔

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 25] Shared Birthday

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Happy birthday, baby.” This time it’s you who wakes up Ren in the morning, filling up his face with kisses. It’s extremely early, but at this time Ren is in your room, yelling at you to wake up. It’s surprising that the day of his birthday is the only day where he isn’t awoken by the first ray of sunshine. 

“Mommy?” Ren slowly opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is a big smile on your face. You proceed to repeat,

“Happy birthday, Ren.” You feel his tiny arms wrap around you, and your heart swells with joy. You pull away from the hug and you tell him, “Breakfast is ready for you, baby. Just brush your teeth and then come out.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he rushes out of bed and goes to his bathroom. You can’t help but chuckle, walking out of his room to ensure everything is okay. You woke up extra early this morning to decorate the house for him, and you want to make sure that everything looks like you had planned.

You hear the doorbell just as you walk over to the dinner table, and you know immediately who it is. You nearly run to the door to open it for him. You find Satoru, holding a gift that’s almost bigger than himself. He comes inside, and you’re shocked to find about five other people behind him, holding gifts that are all for Ren. 

“Did you buy the whole store?” You ask him, and Satoru is too busy finding space for all his gifts that he can’t answer your question. You’re almost certain that it’s a yes. You immediately feel as if you haven’t done enough because you only got Ren one gift.

He already has everything, what more could he possibly get? Satoru always finds something that Ren could possibly need. You can’t help but joke, “Do you have some car keys hidden in there?”

“It’s Ren’s birthday, wait your turn.” Satoru says, and you laugh. The moment all the gifts are on the floor, the people that came with Satoru leave. The moment the door closes, he asks, “Where’s Ren?”

“Bathroom.” You answer, and you watch Satoru get impatient within seconds. He just wants to see his baby boy and congratulate him. You clear your throat and tell him, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Satoru smiles, almost forgetting that crucial detail. It’s not only Ren’s birthday, but his own. His priority is his son though, he couldn’t care about himself at this moment. 

“Also happy anniversary.” You smirk, and Satoru can’t help but roll his eyes. He’s about to reprimand you for even saying it, but before he can open his mouth, he sees the miniature version of himself running to him. Satoru crouches down with open arms to welcome Ren’s hug.

“Happy birthday, my baby boy.” Satoru kisses the top of Ren’s head once Ren is in his arms. He picks Ren up from the ground, and takes him to the table, where a delicious breakfast awaits him. 

“Do you want anything for breakfast, Satoru?” You ask him, because it is his special day as well. Satoru shakes his head, watching Ren eat is sufficient for him. You watch Ren as he begins to eat, and you announce, “Ren, it’s also your father’s birthday. Congratulate him.”

“No it’s not, it’s my birthday.” Ren clarifies, not quite getting that two people can share the same birthday. Well at least not with their father. You both laugh before you say,

“It’s also your dad’s birthday.” And you watch as the wheels turn in his head before he stands up from his chair and runs to his father. Satoru picks him up, and Ren kisses his father’s cheek. 

“Happy birthday, daddy.” Ren has the brightest smile on his face, and it transfers over to Satoru. Satoru expected many things for his birthday, but celebrating with his now five-year-old wasn’t one of them. Although it’s the biggest gift for him, Satoru has stopped caring for his birthday– The day just lost its charm since his wedding, but now knowing his baby boy was on this special day, the day is the best day out of the whole year. He really thought the day would never be special again, but life really takes you by surprise. 

“Thank you, baby.” Satoru answers, kissing Ren’s forehead. 

“How old are you now? Fifty?” Ren looks so serious that Satoru is offended. You burst into laughter, and Satoru side eyes you before shaking his head.

“Twenty seven.” Satoru answers, and Ren is still astonished since twenty seven is quite old, at least for a five-year-old. Even then, Satoru can’t bring himself to be annoyed with Ren since it is the boy’s special day. Satoru can still tease him though, “How about you? Are you turning two?”

“Five!” Ren holds up his hand, showing off the number that he’s turning. He’s upset too, there’s no way he just got compared to a literal baby when he’s officially five. “Can’t you see? I’m not a baby anymore, daddy.”

“You are so right. My apologies, Ren.” Satoru says, putting Ren back on the floor so he can walk to his chair. Ren takes a seat again, and begins to eat the special breakfast that was made for him. “Hurry up, baby. I want you to open your gifts.”

“Don’t listen to him, Ren. Don’t give yourself a tummyache.” You quickly speak up. Ren has all the time in the world to open all of the gifts that Satoru brought him– It might take a couple of hours with how easily distracted Ren gets, but you have time regardless. 

Ren doesn’t listen though, and he begins to stuff his face with the food that’s in front of him. He’ll cry later about how his tummy hurts, yet this time you can’t really scold him. You won’t pay any mind though, you’re fine as long as Ren enjoys his breakfast.

“My mom is coming by later to drop off some gifts, and Sayo too.” Satoru announces, and you can’t help but sigh. It’s already hard enough to organize Ren’s room with all that is there, by the end of tonight, you’re sure that he’ll be moving in with you because his room will be covered in toys. 

“Did you get me play-doh?” Ren is hopeful that he’s getting some new play-doh since all of his is dried up and hard after not properly putting it away. Satoru ruffles Ren’s hair, and hums in response because of course he did. The kid won’t even get to go through all of what Satoru bought him. 

“Oh boy, he’s not sleeping tonight.” You stand up from the table. You try to smile at Satoru before announcing, “I’m gonna get ready. Watch him.”

Satoru doesn’t need to be told twice before you walk away, leaving them alone. You won’t lie and say that you’re not a bit upset by all of this since for years it’s only been you and Ren. Even when he didn’t know, and you could barely afford to live, you would buy him something for his birthday, and when you finally can get your son a couple of things, you’ve been easily outshined. You won’t let it get to you, after all, Ren is happy. Either way, Mrs. Gojo outshined you last year when Ren turned four, you shouldn’t be upset that Satoru outshined you this year too.

You pass by Ren’s room, which is tidy and clean for the time being. What you should worry about is the mess that’ll come of it in a couple of hours.

“Finished! I wanna see my gifts!” Ren yells, and you chuckle before shaking your head. Forget about a couple of hours, the room has seen its last clean minutes.

Although it’s his birthday, Satoru can’t completely take the day off. But he planned it out, he’ll show up into the office, do a quick meeting and then spend the rest of the day with his son. Satoru’s main issue though, is that he’s become so attached that he doesn’t want to leave Ren alone on this special day. Which is why his son sits on his lap in the middle of a meeting. 

All eyes are on the five-year-old who colors a blank sheet of paper. Satoru is making an excellent report, but none of them care because Ren has caught their eye. Since when did Satoru have a child? Nobody heard of Sayo being pregnant, but perhaps it’s been hidden all this time. There’s absolutely no way that the child is anyone else’s but Satoru’s, that’s for sure.

“Can I go to mommy? I’m bored.” Ren says, and Satoru doesn’t stop what he’s saying, he simply puts Ren down on the floor. He runs out with his paper and crayon in his hands, making a couple of people laugh. They hear him call out for you, as he runs to your desk.

“What’s up, baby?” You ask him when he comes to you, holding up his drawing. It’s just lines on paper, nothing impressive. You still manage to make him feel like he’s the best artist in the world. “I can’t wait to hang this up on the fridge, this is your best work yet.”

“Do you think so?” Ren’s eyes light up, and you hum in response. You take the paper from his hands and put it on your desk. You go to your desk, grabbing your purse to look for the toy that you packed for him. You know how sometimes he gets bored easily, you always have to find a backup plan. Satoru’s meeting is taking longer than expected.

“What do you want to do after lunch, honey?” You ask him as he takes his rightful seat in your comfortable desk chair. You have plans for a little party, but that’s in the evening which means you have a whole afternoon free to do whatever Ren wants. 

“Can we– Hi grammy!” Ren can’t even finish his sentence because he sees his grandmother, excitement rushing through him since he can’t even remember the last time he saw her. He gets out of your chair to rush to her side, and a genuine smile comes to the woman’s face.

“Ren, happy birthday, my love.” She picks him up and kisses his temple.

“Thank you.” He answers. She brushes some hair out of his forehead, simply smiling at her grandson.

“You look handsome today, is this what happens when you turn five?” She asks, and you feel awkward watching the interaction. She’s a wretched woman but one thing is for sure, she loves her grandson more than anything.

“I always look handsome.” He corrects her, which earns a laugh from her. She nods, completely agreeing with him. She ends up putting him down since he’s becoming too big for her to hold him for too long. She greets you but you don’t engage in any type of conversation. She tells Ren,

“I’ll see you later, honey. I’ll make sure to bring you all your gifts.” And Ren is grinning, thinking about all the gifts that he has yet to receive– He’ll be so busy tomorrow with all his new toys. She walks away, going to the conference room to join her son. 

“Here.” You give Ren a toy, and he takes his seat on your chair again. 

Deciding to host Ren’s birthday party in the Gojo estate was the best idea you’ve had in a while. When you get to the place, everything is already decorated. You won’t have to clean up a single thing by the end of the night, although you know you’re still going to try and help. Additionally, the place is massive, and Ren can run around freely– If he breaks a vase, that’s Mrs. Gojo’s problem. 

Ren loves his dad’s house since it’s massive, something that is vastly different from the apartment he lives in. The place has a big backyard that he can run in, and his room there is bigger with even more toys than at his home. Unluckily for Ren, you’re not letting him run in the backyard since it’s already getting dark out… Maybe if he begs enough you might consider, you are a sucker for him after all.

“Woah…” Ren looks around with wide eyes, seeing how nice the house looks for his birthday. It’s fair to say he’s happy with the results of everything, yet he doesn’t see the giant cake Mrs. Gojo promised him, and he’s quick to point it out. He runs to your side and asks, “Where’s my cake?”

“It’s coming out later, Ren.” You inform him, instantly making him pout. The child is so impatient sometimes, and sadly you can’t do anything about it. You’re fine as long as Ren doesn’t try to do anything. 

“Where’s daddy?” Ren asks, and you shrug. Luckily for Ren, someone that’s listening in immediately tells him that Satoru is in his bedroom. Ren drags you upstairs, to his father’s bedroom, a place you’re not sure you should be heading to in the first place but Ren is dragging you there.

“Don’t you want to wait downstairs?” You ask Ren, and he shakes his head.

“We have to give daddy his gift.” He tells you, and you can’t help but sigh. It’s fine anyway, you guess it’s better to give Satoru his gift now because there’ll be too many people around later. So many memories flood into your mind when you stand in front of Satoru’s door, both good and bad. The small time that you lived here with Ren, you made it your point to avoid this area. Now here you are with your son.

“Ren, knock!” You scold him when he opens the door without even knocking first. Fortunately, Satoru had just finished getting dressed.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you!” Satoru has the biggest smile on his lips when he sees Ren. They separated momentarily so they both could get ready for tonight, yet Satoru missed him so much. Satoru notices the gift bag that Ren holds, and he can’t help but ask, “What do you have there?”

“It’s for you from me, mommy, and granny. Happy birthday, daddy!” Ren exclaims as he holds out the gift bag, and Satoru takes it. He looks inside, to find a white knitted sweater that he can only assume your mother made. He takes it out, and opens it to see how big it is; it’s a size too big, but he knows he’ll be wearing it for the holidays. Satoru notices there’s more inside.

“I didn’t know what to get you since you have just about anything, so I just threw in some stuff that I’d thought you would appreciate.” You inform him, and before he can say anything, you inform them, “I’ll be waiting down stairs, I want to talk to my mom before Mrs. Gojo gets to her.”

You’re out before either can protest. Ren doesn’t care all that much either way, he’s more focused on what Satoru’s reaction will be to his gift. Satoru reaches in for Ren’s gift, immediately knowing that it’s the drawing… It’s certainly something. It fills Satoru with joy though.

“It’s me, you and mommy.” Ren clarifies, and Satoru certainly needed the clarification– It’s beautiful though. He’s sure this is the greatest gift that he’s ever gotten. Satoru puts the drawing down on his nightstand, picking up Ren and hugging the air out of him.

“I love you so much.” Satoru fills Ren’s face with kisses. He’s sure this is the best birthday he’s had in a while. When Satoru puts him down on the ground again, he ruffles Ren’s hair before saying, “Can you wait for me downstairs?”

“Aren’t you going to open mommy’s gift?” Ren questions, and Satoru nods.

“Without you. Give me a moment.” Satoru answers, and Ren pouts but he makes his way to the door. Ren makes sure to drag his feet, taking his sweet time to leave the door, and Satoru can’t help but laugh. He’s peeking into the bag to see what you got him.

Just as Ren is about to leave the room, Sayo barges in, a look of worry written all over her face. Satoru immediately knows it’s serious, because Sayo wouldn’t even dare come into his room without making herself known.

“Sayo, what’s–” Satoru begins but he’s quickly cut off by Sayo.

“My parents are here.”

[cressidagrey]

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 7 (The End)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining. 

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

"Did you really throw Lewis of your Christmas Cookie list after Silverstone 2021?!" Max asked Ariel, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline after reading that particular text message.

Ariel didn't even bother looking up from her breakfast, as she was scrolling through her own phone.

"Yep," she said, popping the p. "I crossed him off my Christmas cookie list for two years. No cookies for Lewis."

Max looked at her, his expression a mix of amusement and bewilderment. "Two years?" he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

If she had thrown Lewis of her christmas cookie list for two years, there was no chance that Lando was getting any cookies this year. "That seems a bit harsh, don't you think?" he said carefully, but Ariel just shrugge. 

“I am very aware that your job has its dangers,” Ariel said drily. “This wasn’t about what happened on track. I was making a point.”

Max’s lips curving upwards slightly at her words. "What point were you trying to make, schatje?" he asked, a hint of mirth peeking through his nonchalant tone.

Ariel finally looked up from her phone, bluish-green eyes that never could quite decide which colour they wanted to be, mustering him. Her expression serious. "The point was about respect. You could have died. You battled severe vision problems for the rest of the season. And Mercedes was talking about it like it was a lesson you were finally being taught. Lewis wasn’t the only one on a cookie ban. Everybody at Mercedes was," Ariel said sharply. “Because their behaviour after that crash was completely unacceptable. I decided that a two year ban without my cookies was enough to drive that point home."

Max's amusement turned into a full-fledged smile at her explanation.

"So, Mercedes' team didn't get cookies for two years?" he asked, clearly trying not to laugh. Ariel arched an eyebrow, a defiant look in her eyes.

 "Yes, exactly," Ariel replied. "No one from Mercedes received any Christmas cookies for two years. And let me tell you, Lewis was heartbroken."

Max couldn’t help but laugh then, the sound deep and rich. The image of Lewis' disappointed face, finding out he was on her ban list for two years, must have been a sight to behold.

"I bet he was," he said, his laughter slowly subsiding, even when he couldn’t help but smile at her. 

This was Ariel in a nutshell. She had always, always been unapologetically in his corner. There had never once been a question about her loyalty. She may called him out on his bullshit, but she was just as willing to go to bat for him. 

"You're ruthless when it comes to your cookies, you know that?" he told her with a smile. 

She inclined her head. “I have my principles,” she said simply. "And those principles include doling out cookie-related punishments when necessary."

Max shook his head, completely smitten. 

"Oh, I know very well how protective you are of your principles," he said with a hint of tenderness in his voice. "And I love that about you." Max leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming more serious.

"But I have to say, it's touching that you were so upset by what happened during the race that you decided to ban everyone at Mercedes from your cookie list. But two years is a long time without cookies, schatje."Ariel seemed unrepentant, her defiant side shining through in her expression. “You didn’t need to do that. I am tougher than I look,” he told her with some amusement. 

"They were lucky it was only two years," she snorted, her voice holding a note of irritation. "I was thinking about a lifetime ban."

Max chuckled again, amused by her determination. 

"Lifetime?" he repeated, the word hanging in the air. "You really didn't pull any punches, did you?" She just shrugged, just as her phone vibrated. "Any reason why Victoria is texting me to tell you to call your Mom`?" she asked drily, after a short look at her phone. 

Max rolled his eyes, even as Ariel’s phone pinged again. And again.

"Lewis did apologise about the betting pool by the way," he informed her and Ariel just snorted. 

"He is worried about getting blacklisted again," Ariel told him sagely, and he couldn't help but laugh. 

"I'll get my laptop," Ariel said softly as she stood, leaning down to drop a kiss against his hair and Max couldn't help himself but to pull her into a proper kiss. Max pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist with ease.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. A smile played across his lips as he spoke.

"You know," he murmured, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier note. "I could get used to having you here. In my lap. Anytime." He didn't want this moment to end. He could feel her breath against his neck, her fingers tracing small circles on his shoulder.

He was about to pull her in for another kiss when her phone pinged again, breaking the blissful bubble of intimacy they had created. "Call you Mom," Ariel told him pointedly as she stood.

Max chuckled, reluctantly letting her go. "Spoilsport," he teased, but his eyes were full of affection.

He reluctantly picked up his own phone and dialled his Mom's number. His mother answered on the second ring. 

"Maxie! You took your time to call," she scolded him immediately. 

He had. Mostly because he had no idea what to say.

What was Max supposed to say?

He had won a race. He had finally figured things out with Ariel...

And he was quite sure that the next time he tried to talk to his father it wouldn't end well at all, because his father had laid his hands on Ariel. And that was simply unacceptable as far as Max was concerned.

He opened his mouth to respond but his mother continued, talking over him in her typical, motherly way. "Are you alright?" she asked abruptly, her voice filled with worry. 

He wasn't about to lie to her. "I...I am getting there," he admitted, his voice rough. "Did you see..." his voice broke before he could bring out the words.

"Yes. I saw," his mother said darkly. "Everybody saw, Max. Sky kept a camera onto the whole...thing. I am so sorry," she apologised to him and he couldn't stand it. First Ariel apologised to him about what his father did, then Victoria and now his mother. 

He couldn't stand it.

Max felt a sudden flare of anger as he thought about the cameras catching the whole scene at the garage, his father's behaviour on full display.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his thoughts.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, his voice betraying his emotions. "You don't need to apologise for him."

His mother was quiet for a moment, her voice softer when she spoke again.

"I know. But you are my son and I..." she trailed off, seemingly lost for words.

Max could sense her struggle, her own emotions warring through the phone."I'll be fine," he reassured her, his own voice quivering slightly. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't want to add to her worry.

He forced a light tone into his voice, trying to sound more like himself. "I'm a big boy,” he assured her. He was quite sure that his mother din’t believe a word he sai. 

"How is Ariel?" She asked him instead.

Max couldn't help the smile that tugged the corners of his lips. The mention of her name lifted some of the weight off his chest.

"She's...she's good," he said honestly. "She's handling everything better than I am, honestly."

He glanced over his shouler, back inside as they had ha breakfast outside on the balcony…and found Ariel with her laptop on her lap sitting on the couch. Her focus was intense, as usual, as she typed away.

"You two are good together," he heard his mother say, her voice gentle.  "I always thought so. At least one good thing came out of this whole mess," she said with a chuckle. “Even when it took you the better part of a decade.

Max's lips lifted in a small smile at her words, his eyes still trained on Ariel, his girlfriend. His girlfriend. 

He couldn’t quite believe it, but he adored every single moment of it. 

An he agreed with his mother. Despite everything, things between him and Ariel had turned out for the better. She was here, in his room, as his girlfriend and he was glad for it.

He couldn’t imagine to going back to being just friends, to not be able to reach out an pull her into a kiss…to not hear every single soft noise that escaped her as he pressed his lips to hers…

"Yeah," Max agreed quietly. "One good thing, indeed.”

"Look after her," his mother said, her tone now taking on a more serious note. "I know you will. But take care of her. And yourself while you're at it."

Max felt a warm rush of gratitude wash over him. His mother's concern never failed to touch him, no matter how old he was.

"I will, Mom," he assured her, his voice softened by affection.

"...What will you do with your father?" she asked him curiously.

Max's smile faded at her question, his thoughts turning dark once again.

He had been avoiding thinking about his father, not wanting to deal with the complicated mix of anger and hurt he felt. But he knew he could not run from it eternally.

He took a deep breath, his voice quiet and rough. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I can't just...I can’t just let it go, Ma. Not this time. He laid his hands on her," he added, his voice filled with a burning anger that he couldn't suppress. The image of his father's hand connecting with Ariel’s soft face… it was making him utterly furious. 

His fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "I can't just forgive that."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, a heavy pause that carried the weight of his words.

When his mother spoke again, her voice was gentle, "You don't have to forgive him, Max. No one will force you to."

"Vic can do whatever she wants, obviously," Max continued. "But I am done. I don't want him anywhere near Ariel. I don't want him anywhere near my family."

His mother was silent for a moment again and he knew she was just processing his words.

"You are serious," she said quietly, her voice holding a hint of awe. "You really mean it, don't you?"

"Yes," Max answered firmly, his voice sure and steady. "I've had enough, Ma. This...this was the last straw."

He closed his eyes, his stomach turning at the thought of his father's actions.

"He laid his hands on her. I can't ignore that. I won't."

His mother was quiet for a moment, digesting his words. He could practically feel her surprise. His relationship with his father had never been easy and she knew that from personal experience.

Finally she spoke again, her voice careful but firm. "And what if he doesn't take your decision well?"

Max couldn't help the weary sigh that escaped him. He knew his father well enough to know that this would probably turn into a shitstorm.

"I know he will get angry," he admitted, his voice low but unwavering. "He always does when I don't just do as he says. But...this time I don't care."

“He can talk to my lawyers,” he said drily. Though he probably woul owe them truly ridiculous amounts of money to deal with his father when all was said and done.

His mother chuckled lightly at his words, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I'm sure they will be looking forward to that," she said dryly.

Then she sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years of dealing with her ex-husband. "He won't go down quietly. You know that, right?"

Max nodded grimly, his free hand clenching into a fist. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with the knowledge of how stubborn his father could be.

He had grown up with his father's temper tantrums and his endless list of demands. He knew all too well that his father would not accept his decision without a fight.

But Max was no longer the little boy who had to comply with his father's orders. He was a man, a fully grown adult, and he was determined to stand his ground, no matter what.

His voice was firm when he spoke again. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I’m done with letting him control my life. I won't back down ."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Max could almost see his mother nodding, her face a mixture of worry and pride.

"You're stubborn like him," she said suddenly, the amused tone back in her voice.

Max smiled, a brief moment of levity in this dark conversation. 

"You always were a determined little boy," his mother continued said, her voice filled with memories. "Even as a child, you never knew when to quit. I swear you're only getting more stubborn with age."

He couldn’t but chuckle quietly. His mother sighed.

"So you and Ariel," she changed the topic, trailing off leadingly. "Can I finally expect some grandchildren from you, then?"

Max almost barked out a laugh at the question. He was caught off guard by the sudden switch in conversation, but the subject wasn't an unwelcome one.

"Ma," he said, his voice tinged with both humor and incredulity. "One crisis at a time, please."

"It's a valid question," she said in response, her voice filled with feigned defensiveness. "I'm getting old over here."

Max rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. "You're not THAT old," he teased.

His mother huffed at his words, amused but pretending to be offended. "I am old enough to be a grandmother, Max! I want to spoil some grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy it."

Max chuckled, the lightheartedness of the conversation a welcome break from the heavy topics of their previous discussion.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," he said lightly. "But you're going to have to give me a little time. I just got her, you know."

His mother snorted at his words, her voice filled with a mother's knowing. "Oh, I know you well enough, Max Emilian," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Trust me when I say, it won't take long for you to put a ring on her."

Max rolled his eyes again at her words, but he couldn't argue with her logic. "We'll see," he said, his voice trying for a nonchalant tone.

The truth was, his mind had already started wandering down that path of its own accord. But he wasn't going to admit that to his mother just yet.

"You keep telling yourself that, Max," his mother said with a laugh, her tone filled with maternal certainty. "In a few months, I will have another daughter."

Max chuckled at her words, the thought sending a jolt of excitement through his chest. The idea wasn’t as scary as it should have been.

"You are awfully sure of yourself," he teased, his voice tinged with amusement.

"I know my son," his mother said simply, the affection in her voice clear. "And I know how much you love that girl."

Max felt a lump in his throat at her words, the truth of her statement hitting him hard. He loved Ariel with all his heart, more than anything in the world. He couldn't deny that.

"Ma..." he began, his voice growing a little rougher.

"It's alright," she said gently, understanding the emotions behind his words. "You don't have to say anything. Just...take care of each other, yeah?"

Max nodded, his throat too tight to form words. He knew what she meant, the unspoken worry for the road ahead. But he was determined to face it together with Ariel.

"I will," he managed to speak, his voice filled with determination and love for her. "I promise."

"Good, Maxie," his mother said, the nickname making him feel like a child again. But he didn't mind. In his mother's eyes, he would always be her little boy.

She paused for a moment, then added, "I'm so proud of you, Max. You know that, right?"

Max felt a wave of emotion wash over him at her words. To hear his mother say that to him, in this difficult time, meant more to him than he could express.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a mixture of gratitude and love. "Yeah, I know."

He felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. Despite everything that had happened, despite the storm on the horizon, he knew he had his mother's love and support. And he had Ariel. He was not alone. 

His mother's voice was soft when she spoke again. "Go back to your girl now," she said, a hint of humor back in her tone. "She's probably wondering what's taking you so long."

Ariel’s email inbox was an absolute nightmare

She couldn't stand the sight of it anymore.

Between the concerned emails from friends, the offers of support from colleagues, and the endless messages from people she had never even interacted with, her inbox was a swirling mess of sympathy, curiosity, and unsolicited advice.

She hated it.

With a sigh, she shot off a message to her friend Madeleine, making some plans to see each other sometime before Christmas...something which hopefully would involve more than one strawberry daiquiri.

(God, she really could do with one right now.)

She also had no idea what to do with the sprawling apology that she was quite sure Lando had either asked ChatGPT or Oscar to help him write. 

She wasn’t sure which was more likely and less weird. 

(Ariel also wondered if it was only about her christmas cookies…but she was willing to cut some slack…maybe.)

Other than that...it was still a nightmare. Ariel started to copy paste her response to every single media inquiry, which was that she was very much fine and very much not interested in talking to any of the media outlets about what had happened between her and Jos Verstappen and also very much not pregnant.

The mere thought of having to talk to a horde of journalists, all eager for the next juicy story, was horrifying. 

She wasn't one to seek the spotlight, and the fact that she was suddenly thrown into the center of it against her will made her feel both irritated and violated.

Leaning back against the sofa, she took a deep, calming breath.She hadn't even "started" with her phone though. That one was also a nightmare of seemingly every person in her life deciding to blow it up with numerous messages. Some of it was really quite sweet. Some of it definitively wasn't though.

The amount of people reaching out to her felt almost overwhelming. Her phone was inundated with text messages, calls, and voicemails, all filling up her notifications to an almost dizzying degree.

Some messages were nice, filled with warm wishes and support. But there were also those that were much less pleasant, asking questions that were far too intimate. Some even seemed downright judgemental.(...Ariel’s list of people that were going to get cookies this year was definitively dwindling down.)

At this point, it was difficult to tell who was genuinely concerned about her and who was just trying to squeeze some gossip out of her. She found herself growing increasingly frustrated with each new message she read, the constant barrage of questions and inquiries making her head spin.

With a weary sigh, she put her phone down and scrubbed a hand over her face, feeling utterly exhausted both mentally and physically.The whole experience felt oddly voyeuristic, like strangers were peering into the most private corners of her life, trying to satisfy their curiosity without any regard for her feelings.

And she didn’t even dare to look at her instagram…or on tiktok. Or on the website formerly known as twitter. Until she did and then clicked away again immediately. 

Social media was a vast minefield of people throwing out comments that were anything but helpful. From armchair psychologists to self-proclaimed relationship experts, they seemed to know exactly what she should - and shouldn't - do.

"Hey."

She looked up to see Max join her on the couch, sitting next to her. He held out his arm for her and she pushed away her laptop to curl against him. 

The one good thing that was coming out of this drama was their relationship.

"Hey," she greeted him softly. "Good talk with your Mom?" Max nodded, his arm wrapping around her body and pulling her close. The feeling of her body against her was pure comfort. 

Ariel happily leaned against him with a sigh. 

"Yeah, she just wanted to know how we're doing," he said, his expression a mix of weary and affectionate. "She worries. You know how mothers are."

She did. There didn't pass a day where Ariel didn't miss her own mother.

She leaned her head against his chest, taking in the solidity of his presence. His hand began to move in soothing, lazy circles on her back.

"This isn't some sort of fling to me," Max told her suddenly. She was so surprised by his sudden change of topic that she could just stare at him. "I would probably marry you tomorrow, given the opportunity. I wasted 5 years, I am not wasting anymore time."

She could just stare at him, her mouth suddenly dry at this look in his blue eyes. It was…decisive. There was no other word for it. 

Max had mae up his mind. 

An his words made Ariel’s heart flutter in her chest.

"Max..." she began, not certain of what to say. 

Marriage wasn't something she had considered in the midst of all the drama. It had… well. It hadn’t crossed her mind. Not yet. Not while there were a thousand moving pieces all around them. 

“I just want to be with you,” Max told her fiercely. “We don’t have to do anything right now, if you want to take it slow. That’s fine. Anything you want is okay. But I am serious about us.” Max said, emphasising each word slowly and clearly.

He was serious, completely serious. The raw honesty in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

"Max," Ariel said his name quietly, her voice thick with emotion. She searched his face, looking for even the slightest hint of doubt or uncertainty. But there was none. He was earnest, sincere, and utterly in love with her.

"I love you too," she whispered. "And I am serious about us too."

Max's eyes brightened at her words, his whole face lighting up with a smile. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her even closer into his embrace.

"You mean that?" he asked, his voice filled with a slight tremor of disbelief and hope. 

"Of course, I mean that," she promised him softly. "I love you. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life doting on our two spoiled cats and stopping them from taking apart your Sim Rig. I can't wait watching you win races and knowing that you come straight home to me. And I can't wait to see what you'll do when you are done with it all and decide that you want to try out something new. I can't wait to grow old with you."

Max was stunned silent by her words, staring at her, swallowing. 

"That's all I ever wanted too. Just you, me, and our little monsters. Nothing more, nothing less,"he said, his voice catching.

"Maybe some kids too. Down the line," she teased him. She wanted that. One day. Max had always been amazing with children.

"You...you would want that?" he asked huskily. "You want children with me?"

Her hands rose to cup his face. "Of course," she said softly. "I want everything with you." 

 With him, the thought of children didn't seem so scary. It felt more like a promise of the future, a future that would be filled with love and laughter.

Max's arms around her grew tighter, desperate almost. He pulled her even closer, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled against her skin. "I truly don't."

Ariel gently cradled his head against her, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. "Shush," she whispered. "Of course you do. I love you."

They simply sat there on the couch for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away, and all that mattered were each other.

"I really want to go home," she said softly. "And cuddle Sassy. And Jimmy."

Max chuckled quietly and nodded into the crook of her neck. The thought of going home after the last few days sounded idyllic.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice muffled. "Let's go home."

(Author's Note: While this finishes off this particular installment, I am SO NOT FINISHED WITH THEIR STORY. It will be a series and I have A LOT of ideas. So I will wildly skip through the timeline 😅😂 (Also if you have ideas/prompts/suggestions, they are always welcome!)

[mysteria157]

Equinox

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black!Fem Reader

Summary: As Fall whispers its approach, you find yourself tangled in Toji's sheets and the remnants of a summer that was never meant to last.

CW: mild intoxication, explicit sexual content, slight angst, mentions of oral (f! receiving), missionary, vaginal sex, fluff and comfort. As always, reader is a black fem.

WC: 4.8K

Author notes: I had an idea for an 'end of summer' fic with Toji that I really needed to write. and I can't focus on anything else until this leaves my mind lol. Inspired by @absoluteindulgence 💕

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself | Divider: @saradika @cafekitsune | @pixelcafe-network💕

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The end of summer carries a unique weight, a bittersweet finality that hits everyone differently. For children, it’s the last wind of freedom—of the final days of sunkissed adventures with each other and nights that never seem to end, before the school bell calls them back to structure and routine. 

For the workforce, it’s a time of transition marked by the ticking clock of fiscal calendars. The not-so-busy days of August give way to a rush of activity—reports to file, budgets to review and close, plans to make for the coming year. Pencil skirts and a turned eye to open-toed shoes slowly shift back to crisp shirts and ironed slacks, polished and prepared for the productivity of fall.

For you, the shift is more powerful. It’s a sign of change that you’ve rehearsed but now find yourself forgetting the lines. It’s of saying goodbye to dalliances and an easy fling, of turning the page and embracing a new part of yourself. A new job. A new relationship status (single). A new outlook on life.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself it would be.

That’s what you tell yourself when you say ‘fuck it’ to monotony on your 30th birthday and decide to let your friends drag you around town. ‘Just try it,’ they giggle as you eye the horse races with a raised eyebrow, the announcer blaring in your ears over the roar of the crowd around you. It’s a place you would never imagine finding yourself. But you say ‘fuck it’ and go along for the ride. Tipsy and smiling from ear to ear as you yell to the wind when the #1 Happy Days crosses the finish line and puts three grand in your pocket.

‘Fuck it’ is what you tell yourself when nonchalant emerald eyes met yours, a scarred pair of lips smirking down as you slide your ticket to the attendee to collect your winnings. Nonchalant but mysterious emerald eyes that trace over your form without grace, eyeing the block sandals and too-tight shimmery silver dress that hugs your curves and shows the smooth brown skin of your thighs.

“Who gave you a heads up about Lucky Days? No way you won on your first try.” His voice is smooth, like fine velvet that ghosts over you.

“The disbelief in your voice tells me you lose often.”

Don’t encourage this.

That’s what you tell yourself when a heavily muscled arm drapes across the collections counter, a whiff of outdoors and mint and man wafting up your nose as his smirk deepens. “I don’t lose.”

The attendant mutters you a kind ‘Happy Birthday’ and slides a modest stack across the counter; your winnings twinkling up at you in crispy green. The large man next to you hasn’t moved, and unfortunately, you are tipsy enough to linger. Tipsy enough to drag your gaze over him with equal disgrace, catching the pale collarbone, angular jaw, and midnight hair that kisses his cheeks.

“Birthday magic then?” he inquires to keep your attention, taking a step closer with a confidence that makes your thighs clench. To you, he’s a tall man…a rugged, tall, and handsome man who lives in an untouched part of your mind. The kind of man that you always fantasize about doing the nastiest things with.

“I don’t know what that means.” You tuck your winnings against your chest, the deep cut of your dress pressing your breasts up against your arms, and his heavy gaze that falls upon them only makes something tingle in your core. “Now, go away before you ruin the rest of my day.” 

Go away before I make a bad decision.

He chuckles, a sound from deep in his chest, rattling the thick fabric of his black sweater. He gestures to your friends who are definitely drunk, downing another shot at the makeshift bar a few yards away. “You’ve got time.” 

“Not for you, I don’t,” you lie through your teeth, trying and failing to hold your breath when he takes another step. 

“You wanna bet, baby?”

Your reply catches in the back of your throat. Words that you know you should say right now. Words that you’ve had to speak to men countless times whenever you decide to go out and have fun and show any sort of skin past your ankle. Your bodies brush together, and you can’t tell if he wants you or the nice stack of cash resting on your tits.

But you don’t care.

“Something tells me, you’re not very good at gambling,” is what you retort, eyes locked on his, intention and desire radiating from you both as the little voice inside your head drowns in your arousal.

He’s bad news. This is a bad idea.

That’s what you tell yourself when you spend half your winnings with him on Takoyaki and a lost race. That’s what you tell yourself when you straddle his thick waist later that night, the frazzled ends of your dress pushed up over your ribs, panties shoved to the side with little fanfare. Taking a cock thicker than what you were used to, oozing an attachment you know won’t be good for you, finally asking for his name an hour later after he has you panting on your stomach from another orgasm.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he chuckles against the nape of your neck, nipping at the thin skin with sharp teeth that trail down your back, hiking your hips up before you gasp at the feel of his tongue between your sensitive folds as he eats you out from the back.

This is a bad idea.

That’s what you tell yourself when you wake up the next morning, sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, your body pleasantly sore, your dress on the floor across the room, and your mind hazy with memories of the night before. You slip out before he wakes up, phone already pressed to your ear and prepared to get an earful from your friends for disappearing, now more determined than ever to make sure this was a one-time thing.

But summer has other plans.

Your plan to pick up fresh fruit from the farmer’s market is ruined when you run into his broad shoulders and easy grin, a stark contrast to the colorful produce around him. Your plan to enjoy the beach is gone with the salty wind when you see him again days later, droplets of seawater clinging to his muscled skin, making him glisten in the sunlight. Each encounter leads to another night of passion, another afternoon of embracing a sexual side of yourself you never knew was there, another morning of promises to yourself that this will be the last time.

Until eventually, something has to give. 

Just for the summer. No strings. No awkward conversations. Just sex. Because once the summer is over, you’ll be in a new office across town, too busy to entertain a relationship, let alone anything else in your life.

Just for the summer.

But as the weeks pass, something shifts. Stolen mornings of Toji’s head between your thighs because he was ‘in the neighborhood’ begin to stretch into lazy afternoons, you teaching him to cook fried green tomatoes and showing him the steps of your hair care routine. Hurried encounters in bathroom stalls with your legs wrapped around his waist and his filthy words in your ear give way to lingering touches and shared laughter at the absurdity of it all.

You find yourself opening up to him, sharing parts of yourself over ice cream cones he swears he can’t stand but eats anyway, the edges of his favorite—but won’t admit—Rocky Road melting too quickly in the summer heat over his pale hands. He starts to let his guard down, revealing glimpses of vulnerability behind those forest-green eyes. Of a harsh past, a complicated present, and a son overseas whom he hopes to see soon.

Maybe it was the Sunday afternoon when a sudden thunderstorm trapped you both in his apartment, leading to hours of conversation punctuated by rumbling thunder. Maybe it was the early evening you found him at the pier, silhouetted against a spectacular sunset, a tension in his shoulders and a quietness you had never seen or felt before.

You try so hard to ignore the changes in Toji’s behavior. The way his hand lingers on the small of your back when you are in public. The sight of your favorite snacks appearing in his kitchen because he is ‘tired of hearing you complain about him not having any food.’ The soft look in his eyes that you catch at odd moments while you both watch movies. 

‘Just for the summer’ has become an agreement that you both have not read the guidelines for in quite some time.

Now, as the first hints of autumn whisper through the trees outside, you find yourself exactly where you swore you wouldn’t be—tangled in Toji’s sheets that always smell too good and his warm body a solid presence behind you that always feels too safe. The room is covered in the gentle glow of dawn, a midnight blue breaking open for soft auburn, and you’re acutely aware of his arm draped over your waist, a muscled leg lodged between yours, his breath a steady rhythm against the nape of your neck.

You need to get up. Tomorrow is your first day at a new firm and you’ve let Toji keep you distracted from preparing. From shopping for new outfits and getting your hair done. From the inevitable of whatever the hell this is.

Instead, you turn carefully in his arms, the movement doing nothing to rouse him. You study his face in the gentle morning light that’s now gotten a little brighter. The scar at the corner of his mouth, once a symbol of a mysterious allure, is now as familiar as your reflection.

Hair the color of ink splays across his face, disheveled and frizzy, a few strings of silver at the roots above his ear. Before, you could get a good look at him while he slept and smirk to yourself that this would be your ride for so many weeks of summer. A fleeting but appreciative glance before you ducked away and left before he could open his eyes. Now as you look at him, your heart tightens with an emotion you’ve been trying to ignore for just as long.

This was a bad idea.

As if sensing your gaze, Toji’s eyes flutter open. For a heartbeat, two, he simply stares at you. The green in his eyes is deep, mesmerizing in the early morning light, still hazy with sleep but quickly sharpening as he focuses on your face. You can finally see the openness there, a susceptibility you occasionally find when he’s fully awake. You can never maintain eye contact in moments like this. It makes your breath catch in your throat because he’s too close, too intense, too much.

Wordlessly, Toji tightens his hold, pulling you flush against him. Your naked bodies mold together, the warmth of his skin seeps into yours, and you have to bite back a content sigh. There’s so much you’ve had to hold back lately to acclimate yourself to the eventual change. Then, with a gentleness that still surprises you, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. 

“What time is it?” he mumbles, unfortunate soft lips trailing up to the sensitive spot behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You struggle to focus, his touch already making your heady fuzzy and jumbled. You glance at the nightstand, where the clock face peeks out from behind a summer’s worth of memories. Sun-bleached seashells from lazy beach days rest against crumpled ticket stubs, reminders of nights when you belted out lyrics while Toji pretended not to enjoy himself. 

“Just past seven,” you manage to whisper, somehow getting the words out as Toji’s touch scatters your thoughts further like the trinkets on the nightstand.

Toji hums in response, his chest vibrating against yours. “Too early,” he says, a low rumble that you feel between your thighs, awakening a hunger that only he knows how to satiate. “Stay a bit longer.”

He smells faintly of bonfire smoke from last night—an impromptu farewell to summer party thrown by your friends that ended with you both stumbling back to his apartment, tearing at each other’s clothes, his hands pulling an orgasm from you before your back could even hit the mattress. Last night was different—more intense, more passionate. A mess of sweaty limbs and heavy breathing as you panted against him, trying to wave your own white flag of surrender that never quite made it past your lips each time he gave you more, more, more, unwilling to let the night end.

As Toji shifts to hover above you, you’re struck by the familiar weight of him, how it feels a little too close to home. It’s comfortable when his waist rests against yours, his cock slowly hardening against your thigh. His kisses, once desperate and searing, have softened. They still ignite a fire in you, but it’s a steady burn now, deep and enduring in the core of your stomach.

“I should really get going,” you implore, but your voice wavers, free of the conviction you desperately need right now. “New job tomorrow, remember?”

“Hmm,” he hums again to the column of your throat. He lifts his head, his gaze fierce and penetrating. Outside, the birds begin their morning call, warming their wings to prepare for their journey south. “You’ve got time,” he says softly, echoing words from that first night at the horse track. He goes back into the crook of your neck, chapped lips pressing to your skin with promise. “Stay.” It sounds too much like a demand, punctuated by a thorough roll of his hips. Your own cant towards him without thinking. “I’ll make breakfast.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, remembering the last time he tried to sway you longer in his bed a few weeks ago. You realized when you choked on a too-wet pancake that Toji’s culinary skills were limited at best. “You? Cook?”

A punishing nip to your neck makes you gasp, your fingers sliding up his back to dig into muscled meat. “I can manage eggs. Probably. Might even use those tomatoes we grew.”

The ‘we’ doesn’t escape your notice. The small vegetable patch was your idea, a whim that blurted from your mouth on a sweltering day, eyes bulging and lips ready to backtrack before he agreed and it became a shared project. Like so many things between you, it grew into something more when you weren’t paying attention. 

Toji’s hand traces random patterns on your skin, soft between your breasts and over your navel before brushing folds that are already wet. You shouldn’t widen your legs more, but you do. Shouldn’t bite your lip in that telling sign that you’re wanting, but you do that too. “Got that job site inspection next week,” he says, aiming for casual. “Not far from where you’ll be.”

You swallow a deep-seated mewl that gurgles in the back of your throat when his fingers circle your clit, calloused pads the right amount of rough to ignite that fire in your stomach. Next week is beyond the boundary you both had set, beyond the promise of ‘just this summer.’ Hope, so unwanted in this very moment but also so overwhelming and bright as the early September sun, flares in your chest.

“T-toji,” you choke out to the feel of a thick finger collecting the slick that leaks from you before sliding inside. The heel of his palm brushes against your clit with every thrust of his hand, and your body responds to him quickly. 

You walked into this thinking you would be able to wipe your hands of him and say goodbye when the leaves began to fall. But it didn’t take long for Toji to learn how to take you apart, to open you up and see how you ticked before sewing you back together with a skill that still surprises you. 

Your fingernails press into his back, a practiced demand for more and he rewards you with a stern but satisfied gaze and another finger in your wet cunt. The hand not working your core cards through your curls, twisting at your nape before tilting your head back, exposing more of your neck with a wet gasp from your lips. His tongue glides along your skin, tasting bonfire smoke and ocean salt, a rumble in his chest, and a curl of his wet fingers to show how much he enjoys it. How much he enjoys the taste of you.

“Stay,” he demands again, nipping your earlobe, a third finger sliding into your cunt and you moan sharply at the stretch. You’re a little sore from last night, but your body welcomes the ache and rejoices in the brush against the spongy spot inside of you that he hits with precision. That fire in your belly roils quicker than what you want, bubbling to the surface and ready to burst with an orgasm that’s pressing at your skin. You’re already gasping, already moaning, already fighting the urge to beg him for the thing that’s thicker and heavier between his legs.

“Did you hear me?” he asks, purring low in your ear. You can only nod as you savor the clench of muscles in your stomach from his ministrations below, the sound of his hand sopping wet as he plays with you. “Then answer me.”

You can’t. Even though you’ve rehearsed this exact conversation for the past week. Even though you’ve prepared the right words if he tried to make you sing for him one last time. You can’t speak. Because the realization that Toji is doing what he can to keep you here makes your breath hitch and the fire in your belly finally erupts as a moan falls from your mouth as if you’ve been gutted, your orgasm locking your muscles around him. You turn your head into the pillow beneath you, panting and body trembling, your nape tingling from his grip, the clock on his nightstand blurry because you have to keep your eyes on something besides his steely gaze that spears your skin.

As your orgasm fades into the chilly air around you, you know you’ve given too much, and you can’t let this go on. Reluctantly, you turn your head back to face him, ready to retreat. His crumbling, guarded gaze now holds a mix of desire and something deeper, more vulnerable and raw that’s too much for you right now. Toji’s jaw clenches as if he’s holding back more words. As if he’s frustrated with your unwillingness to give him what he wants.

Instead of speaking, Toji presses his forehead against yours, an intimate gesture that makes you wish he would have used his words instead. But this speaks more than words ever could. His breathing, usually calm and controlled even in the throes of sex, comes in short, ragged bursts, betraying whatever he’s trying to hide. 

It’s a rare sight. You’ve seen it on the nights he convinces you to stay over and he shoots up from his sleep, panting like he’s run a mile, the silver of moonlight kissing the scars on his back and telling you a story without having to ask. You saw it weeks ago when you both screamed at each other for the first time, a joke of you going on a date turned sour, his shoulders heaving in anger and eyes trying and failing to hold his true thoughts back.

It’s the same right now. Black hair swaying over his forehead as he hovers over you, the hand from between your legs now digging into the flesh of your hip with wet fingers. You notice the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips part as if he wants to say something. They twitch for a fraction of a second, opening and closing just once before he leans in to kiss you, as if he’s suddenly unsure of his welcome.

And you hate how quickly you show just how welcome he is, sighing into his body and wrapping your arms around his neck. You hate how quickly your body reignites, hips arching up to brush against his pulsing cock, the touch producing a low groan from him into your mouth. He ruts against you, rubbing your dripping cunt in rough but practiced circles that make you whine against him. 

The summer is ending, you remind yourself. This has to end, you beg yourself even as you pull away from him, panting against wet lips that somehow always taste of the peppermint candy he refuses to go without. You reach down to wrap your hand around him, swallowing the hiss that shoots from him as you guide him to where you need him most. Toji enters you slowly, deliberately, cataloging the way you arch into him, your bodies fitting together like the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been working on all season.

Through the cracked window that Toji refuses to close every night, you hear the world slowly wake up—school buses and more bird calls mixing with your ragged breaths as he moves within you. Deep and with purpose, wanting but with a tinge of frustration. Your fingers dig into his back, leaving crescent moons that some part of you hopes never fade after you’re long gone. 

Each thrust feels like falling—falling into him, falling into feelings you weren’t prepared for, falling like the leaves outside that signal the end of one season and the beginning of another. The pleasure courses through you, building slowly, steadily.

You relax your nails on his back, roaming instead, feeling the flex and ripple of muscles beneath your fingertips. The landscape feels different now, charged with electricity that makes your skin tingle and your heart race.

The pressure builds within you, a warmth spreading from your core outwards, hot and pulsing with every brush of his pubic bone against your clit. It squeezes the sides of your neck, making it harder to breathe, to think, to act. Your breath comes in short, sharp pants, mingling with the crisp morning air.

Toji’s hands leave your hips, reaching up to grab your wrists. He presses them into the pillow, one on each side of your head, opening you up and leaving you exposed while he takes you apart with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, Toji,” you whine, gasping into the air as you arch into him. “Don’t—”

“You’ve gotta answer me, sweetheart,” Toji’s voice resonates low and insistent as he kisses up your neck, groaning in satisfaction when you clench around him in reflex. “I know you can,” he urges, his rhythm never faltering and his voice strained, “Tell me you’ll stay.”

You want to tell him to shut up. To stop it and give you one last mind-blowing orgasm and leave this alone like you both agreed. But you can’t. Each of Toji’s movements pulls moan after moan from deep within you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head before you squeeze your lids shut so you don’t have to look at him.

Suddenly, one of Toji’s hands releases a wrist, and before you can react, his palm cups the side of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, a tender gesture that contrasts with the intensity of his thrusts. With careful pressure, he turns your face towards him.

You shouldn’t look at him, but your eyes flutter open to meet his anyway, sharp and powerful. His hand on your face is warm, almost cradling, yet insistent in its silent plea for your attention. You feel exposed under his scrutiny. Your body is bare along with your emotions, raw and unfiltered. “Stay,” he breathes once again, softer this time even though the heavy meaning pounds against you, unrelenting and harsh.

The hand on your cheek slides between your bodies before you feel his fingers on your clit, pleasure rocking through you like lightning, and you tighten around him. 

“Squeeze around me just like that,” he hisses at the feel of you, his breath hot against your skin, and you obey immediately, savoring the sharp grunt from his chest. “So fucking beautiful.” He’s said it so many times before but now it feels different. Dangerous. 

The fingers of your free hand dig into Toji’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as he fucks you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body sliding up and down on the sheets.

“Oh,” you gasp, “Oh fuck Toji—I can’t—” Your body shakes against him, hips rolling with his fingers on your clit. You’re painfully aware of every sensation: the slide of skin on skin, slick with sweat; the subtle creak of the mattress beneath you and the thump of the headboard against the wall; the rustle of the sheets tangled around your legs. 

“Give it all to me, baby,” he encourages and you want to shake your head ‘no’ because you feel like he’s asking you for something else. “Let go for me.”

“I can’t,” you plead against his lips again, shaking your head even as your body speaks differently. Trying to finally tell him without actually telling him. You can’t let him in and get hurt. You can’t be brave enough to take a chance.

But like every challenge Toji has ever been given, he faces it directly, taking in your meaning immediately. The hand on your wrist slides up to your palm, his calloused fingers intertwining with yours. The pleasure intensifies, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. It’s almost too much, this feeling of fullness, of completeness.

“Look at me,” he demands softly. As your eyes meet his, he whispers, “I need you here. With me.”

It’s the raw emotion in his gaze, the sharp shift from his usual gruff words, the sudden feel of his lips against yours as he kisses you, and the terrifying realization that this man wants more than just your body that pushes you over the edge. Your release crashes over you like a chilling wave, powerful and all-consuming. You cry out, breaking from his lips as your back arches, body shuddering, as intense pleasure radiates through every nerve.

Not even a moment later, the tightening of your body from your release is enough to take Toji with you. He slides a hand beneath you, crushing you up against him, hard muscles against soft brown skin as he tenses and groans low and deep into the air, painting your insides warm with his cum. You both collapse, breathing erratically, his weight a welcome suffocation.

In this moment of ecstasy, suspended between summer and fall, between what was and what could be, you finally acknowledge that something fundamental has shifted. Like the turning of the seasons, there’s no going back. And as you cling to Toji, riding out the aftershocks of your shared passion, you find that the word he’s asking for remains lodged in your throat, your mind a battleground between desire and fear, between staying and leaving. But you know you need to say something.

“Toji,” you start after a few minutes when your breathing has calmed down, uncertainty heavy in your voice. “We said—”

“I know what we said,” he interrupts, rough and frustrated and something else. He lifts his head, jade-green eyes meeting yours, his want clear in their depths. “Just—fuck. Maybe we…can say something different now.”

Toji may be guarded in the things he says, but he has never lied. Not to you. And there’s no lie in his features now. There’s no morning haziness to show you his vision and thoughts are clouded. There’s no sinful smirk that hides true intentions. It’s pure honesty.

And as you search his face, a gust of wind rattles the wind chimes outside that you hung together, carrying with it the scent of sun-warmed grass through his cracked window. You can’t help but think of all the moments that led to this—moments you tried to ignore—the laughter, the lust that burned into something deeper, the quiet understanding that grew between you as the summer days stretched long and golden.

His hand intertwined with yours gives you a firm squeeze, pulling you from your thoughts. “Stay,” Toji says one final time, and the finality of it means more than just this morning. More than just this summer.

The sunlight breaks through the brisk air to hit your cooling skin, warming you from the inside along with him atop you. You want to finally say ‘okay,’ but you’re still too afraid to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment with your words in case you back down at the last minute.

So instead, you give his intertwined fingers a firm squeeze as well, hoping that tells him what he needs to know. Hoping that tells him you have the courage to stay…right now.

Or at least just for the Fall.

Thanks for reading!

[two-white-butterflies]

jasmine wind | c16

Description: Being in love with an f1 driver was supposed to be easy - but for some reason, your father doesn't like him.

Pairing: charles leclerc/wolff!reader

"Bebe," Charles giggled while staring at your new profile picture. He was only joking when he replied to your tweet - he was pleasantly surprised to see you take it seriously. "It's a cute picture, no?" you narrowed your eyes teasingly while pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Very cute, now I'll have to change my profile into your picture." he chuckled, quickly opening his twitter to change his icon.

You were surprised to be awoken by the sound of your phone ringing. A groan escaped your mouth - slowly adjusting to the artificial light of the lampshade. You reached for your phone - accepting the call without looking at the one calling. "Hello," your voice sounded hoarse from the rude awakening. "Schatz," you heard your father's voice.

A louder sigh escapes your mouth - you already memorized his lines. He'd start off by asking about your wellbeing - then the conversation would drift towards Charles. "How are you?" he inquired in a polite tone, you could hear the coffee pot from the other side of the call.

"I'm fine," you decided to be civil - turning to the other side of the bed where your fiancee was peacefully sleeping. Gods, you didn't even tell your parents that the wedding was happening in a few months.

"Are you eating your vegetables?" Toto asked, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yes," you replied in a whisper. "How's uhh - Charles?" he asked with reluctance, seeing that he was a sore topic. "He's alright, Pa. He's sleeping." you chuckled - closing Charles' mouth before he could turn into a mouth breather.

This was the perfect time to tell him about the wedding.

"There's something that I want to tell you," you take a deep breath - praying to Jesus that he'd approve. Praying that your relationship returns to its old form.

"What is it?"

"Charles and I are getting married - after the race in Monaco." you informed, and he replies with a deep disappointed sigh. "Did he propose to you?" he questioned and you nodded - mind not working properly to understand that he couldn't see you.

Judging by the silence, he knew that Charles did.

"- and he didn't ask for my permission, or your mother's?" Toto began to scold you. A frown formed at the top of your forehead - yes, Charles was wrong for not asking him - but it wasn't like he'd approve. "We're in the 21st Century, I can't believe you're about to start a fight over this." you scoff.

"Bye, Pa - I'll see you after Spa." you hang up.

"I don't want to think about that right now," you continued cooking the fried rice. "He's your father, and he was right. I should apologize." your boyfriend replied - placing his homemade ice cream on the fridge. "No." you responded firmly.

If Charles apologizes now then Toto would believe that he'd be right all the other times. "It could've gone better, but I'm glad that it's over. I gave him an invitation so he's the one to decide whether or not he attends. I don't care." you groan - he wraps his arms around your waist. He could read you like an open book.

Deep inside he could see that you were hurting.

"I'm here for you, alright." he whispered.

He'd know the truth in due time.

(AFTER MONACO, THE DAY OF THE WEDDING)

yn_leclerc: ready for married life.

maid of

29 comments 124,390 likes

Charles_Leclerc: already changed the last name 💗😂 - yn_leclerc: in advance too

ganggangchiken: all the other celebs do lavish weddings but they're the only ones who's driving to court with 5 guests 😭

You couldn't stop the tears that threatened to fall. It just flowed endlessly at the sight of your father. "Did you really think that I'd miss your wedding?" he raised an eyebrow, standing up from the bench right outside the courthouse.

He was clad in blue suit - smiling at you and Charles.

[eyesofbong]

Red Spider Lily ꕥ

art cred. @taak_CHOI on twitter/x

❀ pairing. Chrollo Lucilfer x Founding!Spider Reader

❁ warning. mention of death. Just pure angst ♡

✿ word count. 1.5k

✽ sypnosis. unrequited love, is still love isn't it just as beautiful?

A/N: This piece was inspired by the random red spider lily I found this morning, blooming in the middle of my yard right on time for September—its season. It was particularly strange since I’ve never had one grow before. (My dog tried to eat it.) Also, the chain I’ve had since I was a child randomly broke a couple of nights ago after being indestructible for years! I’m taking it all as a sign. side eye...

The crimson flowers danced in the wind, their delicate petals reaching out, as if grasping for something lost in the void. Red spider lilies—each bloom a splash of scarlet against the gray, lifeless earth. They thrived here, in this forsaken field, where death had long claimed dominion. You stood among them, feeling the chill of the breeze slip through the narrow spaces between the petals, carrying with it the faint, sweet scent of decay—a cruel reminder that beauty and death often walked hand in hand, inseparable, like lovers bound by some twisted fate.

For a long moment, there was only the wind and the rustle of flowers. You didn’t notice him at first. Not until his voice, soft as a whisper, cut through the silence, slicing into your thoughts like a blade you hadn’t seen coming.

“They say these flowers bloom along the Sanzu River,” Chrollo murmured, each word caressing the air like a secret. “Guiding souls to their next life. A fitting backdrop, don’t you think?”

You turned slowly, as if moving through water, your heart stumbling in your chest. And there he was—Chrollo, standing at the edge of the field. His dark cloak fluttered slightly in the wind, like a shadow with its own life. He looked almost like one of the flowers, swaying in the breeze, a figure easily lost among the shifting light and shadows. He gazed intently at the sea of red, a faint smile playing on his lips, yet it never reached his eyes. Eyes dark and deep, like an abyss that promised to swallow you whole.

His expression was unreadable and distant, as if he were looking at something far away, something only he could see.

“I always thought their beauty was wasted on something so fleeting as death,” he continued, his gaze never wavering. “But maybe that’s why they’re so beautiful... because they don’t try to hold on.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, yet they left you feeling hollow, like an echo of something you couldn’t quite grasp. There was a time when you knew that face so well, when every subtle shift in his expression, every flicker in his eyes, told you more than words ever could. But now, that face was a stranger’s—a mask you could no longer read, a portrait painted with shadows and cold light.

You longed for the warmth you once saw there, the softness that had made you believe in things you knew were impossible. His mind, once an open book, had become a locked room, the key stolen, leaving you stranded on the outside.

He stepped closer, and you felt the air shift around you, charged with something you couldn’t name. Your body tensed, muscles tightening as if preparing for a blow that never came. His fingers brushed against yours, so lightly it might have been a dream, as he handed you a single red spider lily. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, an electric jolt that numbed the ache you carried inside—the yearning you kept hidden, even from yourself.

The flower trembled in your hands, and you held it as if it were made of glass, fragile enough to shatter at the slightest pressure. It felt like a lifeline, a thread binding you to this world, to him. To everything you had ever wanted but knew you could never have. Because this was love to you. A quiet, desperate love with no place in words. A love that thrived in shadows, in stolen glances, in moments when his hand brushed yours and sent your heart racing.

You were content to hide it, to bury it deep where he would never see, because you knew he didn’t need to know. You’d rather pretend. Pretend that this was enough—that his presence, his breath mingling with yours in the cold night air, was all you needed.

You looked down at the flower in your hand. It was small and fragile, its petals a deep, crimson red, like drops of blood on bone. It was nothing compared to the treasures you had stolen for him, the riches you had laid at his feet, hoping for a smile, a word, a touch. And yet, it was everything. This single, fleeting gesture—a flower plucked from the earth, handed to you without thought or care—was worth more than anything. The fact that he had given it to you, even with such a cold, detached expression, made your heart flutter like the wings of a dying bird.

Your leader had given you a flower. You could survive on that alone, on the knowledge that, for one brief moment, he had seen you and thought of you.

This was love to you, and you were content with it. Hiding your heart from him because you didn’t need to tell him. You’d rather pretend. Because your love was different—silent, enduring, untouched by the light of day. A love that thrived in quiet spaces, where hope and heartache intertwined like the roots of a tree. You would rather pretend, because its purity was its own reward. It wasn’t about wanting something in return. You knew he would never love you back—not in the way you loved him. And that was fine. You had accepted it long ago.

Your love was about loving him so deeply that you were willing to feel everything, even the pain of knowing he would never feel the same. You had become accustomed to that pain; it had become part of you, a constant companion, a reminder that you were alive, that you could love, even if that love would never be returned.

Your love had survived against all odds, even after he had led the massacre of the Kurta. It was a love that filled the spaces between words left unsaid, in looks that lingered too long, in the silent longing that never truly faded. He had always been out of reach, even when you were children. Always slipping through your fingers like smoke, like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto.

Perhaps that’s why you clung to him so tightly, why you adopted his ideas as your own, why you never questioned his decisions. You would do anything for him. Anything, if it meant you could stay by his side just a little longer, even if that light were cold and indifferent.

Your love was both a gift and a burden, a testament to the heart’s ability to love fiercely without the promise of anything in return. Pakunoda had seen it—the way your love consumed you, the way it burned like a slow, smoldering fire that refused to go out.

“Can you make these feelings go away?” You had whispered to her once, hiding your face in her shoulder, her arms the only sanctuary you knew. “Can you make it stop?”

The sharp pain of the chain cutting into your heart brought you back to the present, tearing you away from that memory. Blood warmed your lips, pooling at the corners of your mouth, and the world around you blurred into a mess of color and sound. You clung to the lily he had given you, cradling it close even as the chains tightened around you, threatening to crush it in your grasp.

You didn’t blame Chrollo. Not for your pain, not for your death. These were choices you had made willingly, with your eyes open and your heart laid bare. You would make them again, a thousand times over, if it meant you could have this—a flower, a moment, a breath in his presence.

The chain user was gone, and you felt the presence of the other Troupe members drawing nearer, their shouts growing fainter in your ears, echoes from a place you could no longer reach. You had seen all the signs. You had known. But still, you had chosen to believe. To pretend. Because it was easier than facing the truth.

Your vision blurred, but you felt him there, his arms around you, holding you close. For a moment, your heart surged with hope—a foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, he cared. That maybe, this time, he would say something—anything to make the pain go away.

Your fingers tightened around the withering red spider lily, its petals soft and fragile against your skin. Through blurry vision, your eyes searched his face, desperate for a sign. But all you found was the same unreadable mask, the same cold distance. The silence between you was suffocating, more painful than any wound.

In that silence, you finally understood—he would never love you the way you loved him. You were just another piece on his board, another pawn in his game.

“But maybe that’s why they’re so beautiful... because they don’t try to hold on.”

Your grip weakened, and the flower slipped from your fingers, its petals scattering like the remnants of your heart.

So, you let go. Not just of the flower, but of the love that had been your constant torment. You released it into the wind, into the void between you, accepting the truth you had fought so hard to deny.

Maybe, as you crossed the Sanzu River, you would see the cities he burned—for you.

© eyesofbong / Do not plagiarize my work. If you see this content on any account that is not mine, please report it.