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aleskie-hischier · 20 days ago

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SINCERELY, YOURS (ft. Max Verstappen)

SUMMARY: You come home to a heartwarming mess of papers, ink, and (worst of all) glitter. But the letters you get from it are worth the small headache.

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: full on domestic fluff with mr. max!!

“I’m home!” you call out, balancing bags of groceries as you shut the door behind you.

“Mama, you’re back!” A small voice chimes in, followed by the quick patter of footsteps on the hardwood floor. It’s your son, Felix Verstappen, all smiles and undeniably far from the clean state you left him in an hour ago.

Setting the groceries down, you crouch to give him a hug. “My baby, did you miss me?” you ask, your tone sweet and playful.

He nods earnestly. “You were gone forever.”

“Mhm.” You take his little hands in yours, instantly noting the sticky sensation of what you suspect is glue. A closer look reveals the true extent of his artistry: while his face is mercifully clean, his clothes are a canvas of marker streaks and, to your dismay, glitter—the absolute bane of your existence.

Before you can say anything, another set of footsteps enters the foyer.

“Oh, schatz, you’re home,” Max, your husband, greets you with a warm smile. He leans in for a quick kiss before swooping down to grab the groceries. “I’ll take these to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, hun.” You return his smile, but your gaze lingers on him for a moment. That’s when you notice it: various shades of marker ink smudged across his forearms and—yep, more glitter dusted across his shirt.

Turning back to your son, you scoop him up effortlessly, earning a delighted giggle. Getting picked up is his absolute favorite thing these days.

“Fox,” you say, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want to tell me why you and Daddy are such a mess?”

He turns his head toward the living room, his grin stretching even wider. “It’s a surprise!”

“Really?” you reply, raising a brow as curiosity creeps in. Balancing him on your hip, you make your way to the living room. “And who is this surprise for—”

Your words falter mid-sentence as your eyes land on the scene before you. The living room is a battlefield of creativity and chaos. Markers are scattered across the floor, joined by an explosion of colored paper and scraps. Felix’s prized sticker collection decorates every available flat surface—the coffee table, the windowsill, even the TV remote. Glitter sparkles from the cushions, as though the couch itself had decided to join in the festivities. And to your utter horror, you spy bold streaks of green and red marker on the arm of your beloved cream armchair.

“Okay, I promise we were going to clean up before you got home,” Max pipes up, appearing from the kitchen with a sheepish smile. In one hand he holds a half-empty jar of glitter and what looks like a glue stick in between his fingers.

You exhale, smirking as you tilt your head and raise a brow at your husband. “What a surprise, right, Maxie?”

“Well…” Max rubs the back of his neck, the universal gesture of a guilty party caught red-handed. “I admit it kind of…escalated. But look!” He gestures toward the coffee table, drawing your attention for the first time.

The scene before you is pure, endearing chaos. Scattered across the table is a vibrant collection of handmade Christmas cards, each one uniquely charming in its imperfections. Crayon-drawn Christmas trees overflow with ornaments, ranging from Santa’s sleigh to inexplicably random racecars. Snowflakes, lopsided but earnest, adorn other cards, which are further embellished with an eclectic mix of Spiderman and holiday-themed stickers. One particular card stands out—a reindeer crafted from Felix’s tiny handprint, smudged at the edges but adorable nonetheless.

And, of course, glitter. Glitter everywhere. It clings to the cards, the table, and even seems to hover in the air like festive dust motes. You think the glitter is a bit over the top, but it tugs at your heartstrings all the same.

Felix wiggles excitedly in your arms, his grin as big as the mess. “We’re making Christmas cards! For everyone!”

Your exasperation melts a little as your heart softens. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah!” he says, practically vibrating with pride. “I made one for you, too!”

“For me?” you ask, letting a smile break through as you feign surprise.

Felix nods furiously before wriggling out of your arms. He races to the table, careful not to trip over the glitter-sprinkled floor, and grabs one of the cards with sticky hands. He rushes back, holding it out for you as if it’s a treasure.

The card is a masterpiece of toddler creativity. Made with your favorite colors, it features a drawn angel perched atop a Christmas tree, both slightly lopsided but clearly crafted with care. Across the top, in Max’s slightly more legible handwriting, is the message: We love you, Mama! The glue is still tacky, and glitter flakes off onto your hands as you take it, but the love poured into it is undeniable.

You chuckle, any lingering annoyance dissolving completely in the face of their heartfelt effort. “It’s beautiful, Foxie. I absolutely love it.”

Felix claps his glue-smeared hands together in delight, his face glowing with pride.

Next to you, Max wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close. His bright smile is as warm as the twinkling Christmas lights strung up around the room. “Totally worth it, right?”

You roll your eyes playfully but can’t hold back a laugh. “You’re so lucky it’s Christmas,” you tease, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Then, with mock seriousness, you ask, “Now, who haven’t you guys made cards for?”

Max chuckles and takes your hand, guiding you to the coffee table that has been transformed into a chaotic, glitter-filled crafting station. “We’ve got a list, don’t we, Felix?”

“Yes!” Felix chirps, his enthusiasm boundless.

He picks up a crumpled piece of paper from the table and hands it to you. The list is long, a mix of names from Max’s life as a driver—fellow racers, team members, and factory staff—along with Felix’s little friends and a sprawling number of family members.

You scan the list and raise an eyebrow. “This is a lot of work for just two people,” you say, smiling. “How do you want me to help?”

Felix’s face lights up, and he eagerly thrusts a jar of glitter into your hands. “Mama, you’re on glitter duty!”

You scrunch your nose, groaning in mock protest, which only sends Felix into a fit of giggles. Max grins as he reaches over to pinch your cheek. “Don’t act like you don’t want to join in on the fun,” he teases.

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes dramatically. Setting the glitter jar down with exaggerated reluctance, you roll up your sleeves. “But I swear, if I’m still finding glitter in my hair by March, I’m banning waffles from this household.”

Max gasps, feigning deep offense. “Not the waffles! You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know I would.”

The three of you settle into a whirlwind of crafting chaos. Felix chatters nonstop about his card designs, explaining every sticker and every crayon stroke in great detail. Max, always the silly goose, adds dad jokes and silly doodles to some of the cards, sneaking kisses to your cheek when Felix isn’t looking—and exaggerating them when Felix is watching, just to see him cover his eyes as he groans, “Ewww, you’re icky!”

The hours pass in a happy blur of laughter and mess. The coffee table becomes a scene of glue, glitter, and scraps of colorful paper, but the stack of cards grows, each one brimming with love and personality.

Eventually, Felix announces he’s “soooo tired” and toddles off to bed, barely making it down the hallway before Max scoops him up and carries him the rest of the way.

You’re tidying up the craft supplies, still battling the glitter that seems to have invaded every surface, mentally noting which furniture pieces might need professional help to remove the marker ink.

As you gather stray scraps of paper, Max returns from tucking Felix into bed.

He joins you in the cleanup, and together you move around the room in a quiet rhythm, the calm of the evening settling over you both. Your hips occasionally bump into each other, and your fingers brush as you pick up stray bits of paper and reorganize the art supplies. It’s a small, unspoken dance of familiarity and comfort.

As Max turns his attention to the stack of finished cards, he pulls one out from under the pile and holds it out to you. It’s slightly neater than the others but still carries the charming imperfections of a heartfelt DIY project.

“For me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Of course,” he says with a playful smile, handing it to you. “Felix made you one, so obviously I had to show him who loved you first.”

You chuckle softly, taking the card from his hands. The front features a heart in your favorite colors, surrounded by stars and a glittery Christmas tree. In the center, there’s a simple drawing of two stick figures, unmistakably you and Max, hand in hand.

Inside, a short message in Max’s handwriting reads:

Merry Christmas! Thank you for all these years together—for loving me and making me a husband and a father. Here’s to more years and even more happiness. I love you.

Your chest fills with warmth as you look up at him, your eyes softening. “It’s perfect,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re so perfect.”

He grins against your lips, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

Pulling back, you reach over to the side table and open a drawer. “I made something for you, too,” you say, pulling out a slightly uneven card.

Max’s eyes light up with curiosity as he takes it from your hands. The front features a hand-drawn racetrack looping around a tiny Christmas tree, with festive doodles scattered across the background and the iconic RedBull car zooming on the track..

Inside, you’ve written:

To my heart, my rock, my joy—my Maxie. Thank you for being everything I never knew I needed. You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. I love you to the moon and back.

Max reads it slowly, his expression softening as he finishes. He looks at you, a mixture of love and gratitude in his eyes. “I love it,” he says, his voice quieter now. “And I love you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, your hands entwined on the table amidst the glitter and glue. The mess of the evening fades into the background, eclipsed by the warmth and love filling the room.

“Merry Christmas, schatz,” Max whispers, his voice low and tender.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as the glow of the Christmas tree bathes the room in a gentle light. For a moment, the world outside ceases to exist. It’s just the two of you, standing together in the quiet magic of the season.

And in that peaceful, glitter-dusted silence, you know this is what the season—and your life together—is all about.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 x reader #✩ allie's writing ✩

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xzaddyzanakinx · 1 year ago

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Cottage in the Woods

Stepbro!Anakin Skywalker x Female reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: sexual content, PiV (unprotected), oral, alcohol (no one is drunk), stepcest

Info: Established relationship, mechanic Anakin, college student reader, Anakin does have his mechnahand but it’s not actually mentioned

Anakin stirred awake slowly, his eyes still half-closed as he snuggled closer to you. His hand gently massaged your lower back, and a small smirk formed on his lips.

"Morning, Darlin’." He murmured, his voice deepening with sleepiness. "How's my favorite little princess feelin'?"

He yawned widely, exposing his perfect white teeth before sitting up straight, pulling the covers over both of you.

“M’feeling perfect,” You said as you breathed out happily.

Anakin chuckled, reaching over to grab his phone from the nightstand. He checked the clock before looking back at you.

"Well, we've got plenty of time to make sure you stay that way." He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, showing off his toned abs and muscular arms.

"Get dressed, dollface, it's Saturday morning, and I swear I'm takin' you somewhere special today."

He made a show of rummaging through his clothes on the floor, finding his favorite pair of jeans and a baggy T-shirt, which he threw carelessly over his head.

“You’re taking me somewhere?” You asked, immediately perking you up from your formerly subdued state.

Anakin nodded, grabbing his shoes from the floor and putting them on. "Yeah, you deserve a little treat don’t you think?"

"Get dressed, I'll be back in a sec," he said, heading towards the bathroom.

As he left, Anakin's steps were lighter than usual, almost bouncy, as if he couldn't wait to surprise you.

You changed quickly. Putting on baggy jeans and a black crop top with the oversized black zip-up jacket stolen from Anakin ages ago. You were pulling on sneakers just as Anakin returned from the bathroom.

His tousled hair wet and messy. He wore a pair of black jeans that accentuated his toned legs and a plain black T-shirt that clung to his muscular torso.

"You look fuckin' adorable," he complimented, walking over to you and running his fingers through your hair before kissing your forehead lightly. "Let's go."

He held out his hand for you to take, and together, you left your room, heads bent in conversation as you made your way downstairs.

Anakin chuckled softly, opening the passenger door of his car for you before climbing into the driver's seat. Slamming the door shut behind him, he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

"Well," he began, turning the corner onto their sleepy suburban street. "We're heading about an hour away from here."

His eyes lit up with excitement as he glanced sideways at you, waiting for your reaction.

“An hour away?” You asked confusedly, wondering what the hell he had planned.

Anakin grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just trust me, alright? It'll be worth the drive."

You sighed, teasingly pretending to be disappointed.

As they drove, he began to hum a familiar tune, and you noticed the car's air freshener had changed from its usual generic scent to the sweet fragrance of lavender.

You spent the rest of the drive smushed against the center console to hold his hand and feel his warmth. Playing music low with the intent of just having background noise while you talked and caught up on things.

Anakin's hand squeezed yours back, returning the comfort with equal intensity. "Sweet girl," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

"So, how was work yesterday?" He changed the subject, hoping to distract himself from the growing anticipation and an anxiety building inside him with each mile marker that passed.

“The worst.” You sighed. “I would rather sprint up Mount Everest than serve that large of a party again.”

You told him the drama and tidbits of conversation picked up from that large group of 25 people. The gossip was the only redeeming factor of waitressing that large of a group. It was hell while you worked it with one other waitress, but damn what an interesting conversation you had with her by the dumpster when you both took a smoke break later that night.

Anakin chuckled, his eyes never leaving the road. "That's what you signed up for, ain't it?" He teased, reaching over to give your leg a light squeeze.

“Just cause I signed up for it, doesn’t mean I can’t whine and complain about it occasionally.” You teasingly pouted, but shook your head and kissed his cheek in agreement after he made a quick redemptive comment about your shared luck in having each other to confide in.

"So, how's my little bookworm doing? Everything alright in school darlin’, any trouble with your classes?"

You shared some interesting highlights of the past week’s classes and lectures. Watching Anakin’s facial expressions while you spoke was just as entertaining as the stories you were telling him. The animated way he responded to practically everything you said was heart warming; he gave you that ‘only girl in the world’ feeling that you only ever heard of in books.

As he drove, the landscape outside changed from suburban neighborhoods to rolling hills dotted with trees and colorful wildflowers, signaling your departure from the city limits.

“What about you Ani?” You asked, turning in your seat alittle while you held his large hand in your two smaller ones, tracing his knuckles with your thumbs.

“How’s everything at the mechanic’s shop?” You continued. “are you still thinking about applying for that supervisor’s position?”

You were of course referring to his job as a mechanic, he’d used his two year degree in engineering to get him started in his career. His ultimate goal being owning a garage of his own someday.

Anakin smiled, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Well, I got offered the supervisor's position actually."

"I accepted," he added quickly, as if anticipating your reaction. "It starts next month. More responsibility, more money, and more freedom to do what I love most—fixing cars."

He glanced at you briefly before returning his focus back on the road. The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, casting warm rays through the windshield that danced across his features, highlighting his natural beauty.

“No way really?” You squealed out of excitement for him, dropping his hand to clap almost involuntarily. “oh Ani! I’m so proud of you!”

You picked up his hand again and laced your fingers with his, leaning across the console to lovingly place a hot, wet kiss on the softness of his neck.

Anakin's hand tightened around yours, squeezing gently in response to your excitement. "Thanks, dollface," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

"You know you're the reason I even accepted it, right?" He teased, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully. "Without you, I wouldn't have found the motivation."

As he drove further into the countryside, dense forests stretched as far as the eye could see. Finally, your destination came into view—a small cottage nestled amongst the trees, surrounded by a tranquil lake and lush greenery.

“Ani you’re so sappy.” You teased, secretly extremely pleased that he would admit such a vulnerable thing.

“What are we doing here?” You asked in confusion. “it’s so pretty…” Your words trailed off.

Anakin parked the car and turned off the engine, grabbing your bag from the back seat.

"Patience, my love," he said, his voice laced with excitement. Opening the door, he helped you out of the car and led you towards the front door.

"Just wait til you see inside," he teased, unlocking the heavy wooden door and ushering you in.

Inside was a cozy interior, filled with vintage furniture and decorations. A fireplace sat unlit in the living area, but you could just picture it casting warm light across the hardwood floors and exposed wooden beams.

You looked up, seeing a loft with a beautiful iron spiral staircase leading up to it. You assumed that it was a bedroom or perhaps a small lounge room.

“Aw it’s so cute…” You said, doing a slow 360 to really take in your surroundings.

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing here now?” You turned to ask Anakin, tucking yourself against his chest as he chuckled.

Anakin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. "I thought we deserved a little something—just us," he said, revealing a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"We'll explore the place later, but for now, I have something else planned."

With that cryptic statement, he led you to the living area, where the coffee table was set up with a bottle of champagne chilling on ice and two beautiful 70’s style crystal wine glasses. There was a small wooden box beside it the spread, adorned with a bow.

“What’s this?” You asked, head on a swivel as you looked curiously over at Anakin and back at the box. He pulled you down onto the couch with him, a rumble of amusement coming from his chest. Before he poured you both a glass of champagne.

He reached over to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles on your cheekbone. Watching how your eyes looked over that small box, how your fingers twitched with the impatient need to open it up. He knew you were horrible with waiting, he knew it was practically torture for you. His next statement only further confirmed that for you.

"Open it when we're finished with our drinks, alright?" he requested, raising his glass in to his lips.

You grinned at having been caught ogling over that tiny surprise. You cleared your throat before taking a sip of the bubbly drink. It was light and crisp, perfect for the setting.

You chatted, talking about how quaint the cottage was. He told you about the lake you’d seen as you drove in, how it was only a short walk away. How he wanted to take advantage of the secluded area to go skinny dip that night.

“It’s been a real long time since we’ve done that.” You giggled, remembering the last time you’d went skinny dipping. That was the night you’d shared your first acts of intimacy beyond making out with each other.

Anakin laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I know, I know," he teased, taking another sip of his champagne. "But this time, we'll make it special. I’ll get to take my time with you."

He said, remembering how rushed he’d been. How terrified of getting caught you were. How you both giggled and couldn’t stop smiling. How you blushed anytime you saw him for the next week after… and how that was the night that officially sealed your fate. After that, things were never the same again; you crossed a line that couldn’t be erased, and neither of you cared in the slightest. You were just happy you’d finally admitted the love you shared for each other.

You teased each other, joking around and bantering like it was second nature. It practically was, you’d always been attached at the hip and it only got more intense after deciding to say ‘fuck it’ and reject the title of step-siblings and mold yourselves into something romantic, into a real relationship.

Occasionally you’d glance at the small present box, fingers twitching in anticipation. Your impatience was getting the best of you and Anakin knew it.

“Anakin please!” You complained. “you’re killin’ me. I gotta know what’s in there.”

Anakin chuckled, setting his glass down and taking yours from your hands as well.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, standing up to retrieve the box. "But remember your manners, princess."

He leaned toward the table, then placed the box in your palm. Smiling as he saw you testing the weight of the box.

"Go ahead, open it slowly, alright?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was just a little tease of his. Finally, you reached out tentatively, steady hands brushing against the loose bow on the box. As you carefully opened it, a wave of anxiety hit your chest.

“Anakin… w-what?” You asked in confusion. “A key?”

You looked up at him, taking in his wide grin and devilish glint in his icey blue eyes.

“Wait… wait no way Ani.” You gasped standing up. “is this? Did you? Is this place ours?” You asked with your voice cracking in surprise as emotion squeezed at your throat.

Anakin nodded, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered.

"Yeah, baby girl, it's ours. I’ve had this place in the works for a while. I got it ready as soon as I could."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. "I want us to start fresh, just the two of us. No more pretending, no more secrets. From now on, we're together for real."

He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When you finally broke apart, there was a newfound depth in his gaze, a vulnerability that matched yours.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I know our love needs space to grow without the constant pressure of keeping things hidden for the sake of others. I can’t hide you anymore.” He said with a shaky breath.

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you close as he spoke.

“The dates where I can’t hold your hand or kiss you even though you look so pretty, so beautiful, so kissable, so deserving of proper attention; it’s torture. Having you so close but not being able to give you the love and affection you deserve, it’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes held an intense piercing gaze into your own.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in another passionate kiss, one filled with need and desire. When they finally broke apart, he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes.

"I know marriage isn’t an option for us. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be together." he murmured, running his fingers through your hair. "Just us. No more lies, no more secrets. Just us living our lives together, just like we always wanted."

"I love you," he said softly, his voice softer, smooth with honeyed promises. "I don’t need a stupid piece of paper to prove that, not when I can prove it to you everyday on my own."

“Here, we’re away from everything. An hour from our hometown, close enough to go be with friends and family but far enough that we won’t have to hide. You’re closer to your college now, it’s only 40 minutes to the garage for me. It’s perfect.” He concluded his little speech with a tug at your waist to bring you closer so that he could bury his face in your neck and breathe in the scent of you.

“Anakin…” You sniffled, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks. “I love you. I love you, yes. I- I want this. More than anything.”

Anakin's heart skipped a beat as he felt your body tremble against his, your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours, seeking any trace of doubt or hesitation.

"Really?" he asked, his voice cracking with the weight of your response. "You mean it? You really want this?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead, lifting you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist so that your legs were locked around his torso. As he carried you towards the bedroom, his long legged stride fueled by desire and need.

He panted, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. "Gods above, I fucking love you."

You sniffled, attacking his neck and throat with hot open mouthed kisses while he pushed the door open with his foot. Giving you a fraction of a second to see that he’d furnished the room and made the bed before he laid you softly onto the new comforter.

Anakin followed suit, falling onto the bed beside you, bodies pressed against each other. He broke the kiss long enough to crawl down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, stopping at your cleavage to slip your shirt off your torso.

"Tell me," he murmured against your skin, his breath tickling the hills of your breast when he’d freed you from the confines of your bra.

His tongue flicking your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, eliciting a moan from the both of you. "Tell me you mean it."

You squirmed beneath him, arching your back, begging for more of his attention. "I mean it. I want this new life with you."

“Then let’s break in the new bed the way it’s meant to be huh?” He teased in a low voice, his hot breath fanning over your throat as he forced you to wait in between each slow and sensual tongue-filled love bite.

Anakin chuckled against your sensitive skin as he licked down your sternum and up to each hardened peak of your tits. Releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He trailed kisses down your stomach before reaching your pants and unbuttoning them slowly, exposing your lacy black panties.

"I want to taste you," he murmured, his hands hooking into your waistband and lowering your pants and underwear simultaneously. His face hovered over your exposed pussy, his breath heating up your moist folds.

Your body twitched, begging for his touch, but he teased you mercilessly, trailing his tongue around the edge of your entrance before finally diving inside, flicking your clit with his tongue while his fingers teased your tight hole.

Ohhh…” You breathed out in bliss, keeping your hips as still as possible. Knowing he preferred for you to trust him to make you cum. He was always telling you that eating pussy is a privilege and that he’s going to make sure he earns it everytime. “Mmm Anakin, that’s s-so good.”

Anakin groaned, his tongue delving deeper into your wetness, seeking out every hidden crevice of your body. His hand reached between your legs, massaging your sensitive spot before his thumb pulled just above your clit, exposing it for the flat of his tongue to lave. Passing back and forth over it slowly, increasing the pressure until you were on the brink of orgasm.

His tongue slowed down, flicking your sensitive folds before retreating to your leaking hole, teasingly circling it before dipping inside, probing and stretching you with the delicate strokes of his tongue.

With each moan and whimper that escaped your lips, he knew he was getting closer to claiming what was rightfully his—your cum.

“Anakin,” you moaned in a way that felt like it originated from your soul. Anakin’s eyes fluttering as he hummed in response to your pleasured noises.

“Faster please I’m so close.” You whined, bucking your hips.

He didn’t verbally respond, he just smacked your thigh to make you stop wriggling and shook his head. He wasn’t planning on speeding up.

No- not at all.

He slurped at your clit louder than necessary before sucking it into his mouth to provide suctioned pressure as he continued to massage the sensitive nub with the flat of his tongue. His fingers keeping their steady and firm snail’s pace to rub circles into your spongy front wall.

It was a combination of all of it, the added sensuality of the act and the lewd noises that tipped you over the edge. He coaxed the bubbling orgasm into a rolling boil that had your back arching and your juices coating his face.

Anakin groaned, his own cock throbbing against the mattress. Savoring the taste of you on his lips and tongue. After a few moments of post-orgasmic bliss, he finally pulled away, his face messy and his eyes glazed over.

He stood up straight again, towering over you with an expression of adoration, worship. Like he’d discovered a goddess fallen from the heavens sent just for him.

"Feel good huh baby?" he panted, his voice hoarse from his efforts. "Never seen you so speechless."

His eyes gleamed with power and satisfaction in equal parts.

He brought his palm to his mouth while tugging his boxers down, wiping the mixture of salvia and slick from his skin. Using the fluids to lube up his hard, veiny cock.

He nudged his cockhead against your wet hole, testing its readiness and indulging in the satisfying warmth against his sensitive tip.

“Just relax doll, I’ve got you.” He murmured, resting his weight above you on his forearms that he slid beneath your upper back, one large palm cradled your skull while the other gently squeezed your shoulder in a possessive grip.

Anakin lined up his swollen member at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock as it pushed barely past your sensitive folds. He waited for your body to adjust to him, his hips rocking back and forth, pushing just in just enough to make you writhe in anticipation.

"You're so tight, baby girl," he groaned, unable to control himself any longer. With a single thrust, he plunged into you, filling every inch of your tightness. You let out a sharp yelp of pleasure mixed with pain that he loved hearing.

“Relax. Open up f’me.” He soothed with loving kisses, moans swallowed by his eager mouth. He pushed past your lips gently trading the flavors of your cum with that of your tongue.

“Gonna make love to you right.” He promised in the most seductive tone he could muster. “slow and deep.”

“Gods Anakin…” You whispered, bringing your knees up higher and spreading your legs a bit further to accommodate him properly and get comfortable with the feeling of being so full.

“Yes.” You whined, mouth hanging open in a silent moan as you felt every ridge, throb and twitch of his heavy cock. “you’re so deep Ani.”

Anakin grabbed your legs, holding them in place for you as he began to move in and out of you slowly, savoring the sound of your moans escaping your throat. Each thrust was deliberate and powerful, filling every crevice of your pussy with his length.

"Pretty girl," he groaned. "Y’keep squeezing me so tight. Let go for me doll, you can do it."

Catching his breath between each thrust, he continued to praise your body, telling you how much he loved feeling connected to you in this way.

“That’s my girl, just like that.” He nodded, looking down at you with pride written in the corners of his crooked smile. “Perfect. Good job darlin’ there we go.”

“M’gonna… gonna cum.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling the vibration of his deep groan as his response.

“Yeah you are, aren’t you babydoll?” He growled, eyes burning your blissful face into his memory for ever. “Almost there darlin’ I can feel it coming.”

“Uh huh.” You nodded in agreement, stomach clenching as the tightly wound coil finally burst and allowed your body to feel a heavenly warmth as your flesh pricked with goosebumps.

Anakin groaned, his thrusts becoming more sloppy as he felt your climax flood out around him.

"Oh god, I’m right there.” He mumbled, his sweaty forehead resting on yours, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

With one final stroke, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, holding you tight as his cock throbbed violently within your depths. A hot, thick stream of cum shot out of him, painting your insides with his seed. It was like fireworks as your bodies shook with shared ecstasy. His orgasm lasted long enough for him to pull out slightly, then plunging back in again, claiming every inch of you before collapsing on top of you, spent but satisfied.

“Mmmm Anakin.” You moaned softly. “Gods, I think you’ve ruined me.” You laughed quietly, a tear or two escaping your eyes from the intensity.

Anakin chuckled, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.

"That's what I aim for," he panted, his voice raspy. "Never gonna let you forget how good it feels to be mine."

He rolled over onto his side, pulling you close against him, spooning your body against his, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively. "Rest now doll. You’ll need it.”

“I’ve got you all alone for the first time in a while. You’re not leaving this bed till I’ve made sure my little princess has been fucked stupid." he whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against your temple in a gentle kiss.

Tag-List:

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@vadersslut @luvvfromme

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars #sw anakin #darth vader #darth vader smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #skywalker family #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction

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seeingivy · 8 days ago

Note

my neurons are tingling… they’re telling me “trust me. i can handle a dangerous man” with suguru 🤔

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man x suguru geto

**part of my tortured poets concert event

“so…you’re like a magician?” you ask.

“a sorcerer. and it’s…it’s not as frivolous as someone who just does tricks, y/n.” suguru notes, his tone caustic.

from the little divot on his forehead – the one that you can make out in the dim light pouring through the window – you can tell that suguru geto is frustrated. a quick irritation you’re able to recognize quickly at this point, which in his case, most of the time, stems from being misunderstood.

suguru geto hates being misunderstood. and it’s the first sign, one of the few, that he makes before he retreats. the little markers, you liken them to reading the waves before you surf – having to be able to parse out the energy, the tension in the water – or in this case, the person, before you push forward.

you reach forward, your hands warm on his shoulders as you trace small circles into the terse spots on his shoulder. you can’t help but lean your cheek against his back, tangling one of your fingers in his air to free his locks from the mess of his bed head bun.

“a sorcerer. so, what exactly does that mean?” you murmur.

suguru sighs, lifting the heels of his palms and rubbing them into his eye sockets. his eye bags are particularly deep for an unbecoming friday night, one where he’s actually cuddled into the blankets with you instead of being stuck at work, and you relish in the fact that, at the very least, he’s here.

“can you do spells like harry potter?” you whisper.

the silly comment earns you a breathless laugh from suguru, enough for him to seek out your touch and lean his temple against yours, before turning to offer a soft kiss to your cheek.

“no.”

“do you sparkle like edward cullen?” you ask.

“no. not that type of magic. and it’s…not magic.”

you lean back.

“okay, i’ll bite. so what can you do?”

“i eat curses.”

“delicious.” you deadpan.

“i’m being serious.”

you shrug. you can tell that he’s being purposely vague, that whatever it is that he’s trying to explain frustrates him more than even having to articulate it, and decide against asking further, at least in earnest.

“do they taste good? i mean…i’m assuming, no right? because you’re said they’re made up of all the bad feelings or whatever, so they must taste like…like that battery acid coffee shop we went to downtown!”

suguru gives you a hum in response.

“that’s actually not a bad analogy. they taste horrible. but after i eat them, i basically control them.”

“right. you control them.” you note.

suguru heaves a great sigh.

“you must think i’m insane.”

you shrug in response.

“i mean. maybe a little bit. do you have any that i can see?” you ask.

“the fact that you’re still entertaining an entire conversation after i’ve mentioned curses, monsters, and the like says more about you than it does about me, you know?”

you smile, reaching forward to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“just that i love you a little too much to entertain whatever you’re saying. even if you sound absolutely ridiculous.”

suguru scoots away from you on the bed, leaning his head left and right with accompanying cricks, before stretching his arms out. and before you know it, there’s a pink stingray floating above the two of you, moving back and forth in motion with his fingers.

you stand up, sticking your hand out to touch it, only to be met with a slimy cold feeling underneath your fingers. the mere sensation sends a shivering rush down your spine, before you turn back to see suguru with his eyes wide in shock, maybe even a little bit of admiration if that’s what it is, as you smile.

“so you can see it.” suguru whispers.

“was i not supposed to?” you mumble back.

you turn back to see him shaking his head at you, before he beckons for you to come back, the curse hovering around in the air ceasing from the room. he wraps his arm around your waist, nestling his head into your shoulder, as you tangle your legs in between his. again.

“some people can see them. but most people can’t.”

you can’t help but laugh.

“does that mean i’m all magical like you? does that make me special?”

suguru frowns, pulling back, before reaching to cup the side of your face, rubbing a small circle into your cheek with his thumb.

“well, quite frankly, you were already special. maybe a little more now, but…”

“are you trying to flatter me?” you ask.

suguru grins.

“is it working?”

“all signs point to yes.”

you lean back, back onto the duvet that’s been messed up by the wiggling you were doing in your sleep, as you gesture for him to join you.

“so why are you telling me? i’ve watched enough movies to know that your little magical world won’t be happy if i know. since i could go telling everyone your secret and everything.”

“it’s just…dangerous. i want to make sure that you know how to take care of yourself if i’m not here…or if i can’t get to you in time. being a jujustu sorcerer isn’t exactly the most stable job in the world, you know?”

you frown.

“dangerous like…like you could die?”

there’s an uncomfortable pain in suguru’s chest.

“yes.”

“well, are you good at being a jujustu sorcerer? is there someone who protects you?”

“i’m decent. and my partner, he’s…he’s the strongest. so.”

“okay, well then it’s fine.” you respond.

suguru frowns.

“it’s fine?”

“well, i’m not going to stop you from being a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“no.”

“so then i’ll just keep faith in the fact that you’re good at what you do. and that your partner is the strongest and they can take care of you.”

surguru swallows hard.

“and what if you get hurt because of me?”

you shake your head.

“you won’t let any of the…bad feelings come get me, will you?” you joke.

he doesn’t laugh. or find it funny even in the slightest.

“you misunderstood. what if i hurt you?” he asks again.

you roll your eyes.

“trust me. i can handle a dangerous man.”

suguru leans forward, pressing his forehead firm against yours.

“i was being serious.” he whines.

“so was i. you tend to have a tendency to live in your head. i have yet to be…be afraid of you, even despite your ghastly bed head, and you clearly are risking enough just by telling me.”

suguru reaches forward, giving your cheek a slight squish.

“i can tell you’re trying to safeguard me in every way you can. it’s also why your entire premise that i’ll be hurt by you in the end is idiotic.”

“now i’m idiotic.”

you reach forward and pinch his cheek right back.

“just a bit.” you whisper.

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estellan0vella · 7 months ago

Text

Doodles Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

You return to the tattoo parlour, balancing a tray of coffee cups and a bag of pastries. The aroma of fresh coffee mingles with the scent of antiseptic and ink, a peculiar but comforting mix that you've grown to love. You push open the door with your hip and are greeted by the familiar sight of Gojo lounging on the couch, Geto perched on the edge, and Toji leaning against the counter. They glance up as you enter, offering a mix of smirks and lazy waves.

"Coffee's here," you announce, setting the tray down on the table.

"Finally," Gojo drawls, reaching for his cup. "I was starting to think you'd run off and left us to fend for ourselves."

"I wish," you retort, handing out the drinks. "Where's Sukuna?"

"Office," Geto replies, taking his cup with a grateful nod.

"Sleeping Beauty needed his nap," Toji adds with a chuckle.

You smile, picturing Sukuna sprawled out on the couch in his office, one arm draped over his eyes. "I'll go check on him."

Balancing the last cup of coffee, you head towards Sukuna's office. The door is slightly ajar, and as you approach, you hear the faint sound of giggling. You push the door open wider and freeze.

Yuji and Megumi are perched on either side of Sukuna, markers in hand, drawing elaborate patterns on his face. Yuji has a red marker and is carefully colouring a heart on Sukuna's cheek, while Megumi, armed with a blue marker, adds swirls and stars to his forehead. Sukuna, deeply asleep, is blissfully unaware of the artistic masterpiece being created on his face.

Your mind races. Should you wake him up? Stop the kids? Scream? Laugh? You have no idea what to do. Instead, you stand there, mouth slightly open, until Yuji notices you.

"Y/N/N!" he whispers loudly, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look what we did!"

"I see that," you say, voice hushed but incredulous. "Where did you get the markers?"

"Gojo let us use them," Megumi whispers, as if that explains everything.

You glance back at the trio in the other room. Gojo, Geto, and Toji are watching with poorly concealed amusement. None of them made any attempt to stop the kids. You shake your head, sighing.

"Okay, you two, let's go. Quietly," you instruct, ushering the boys out of the office. They giggle as they sneak past you, and you close the door softly behind them.

You return to the main room, where Gojo is practically vibrating with suppressed laughter. "You just let them draw all over his face?"

"We thought it would be funny," Gojo replies, grinning. "And it was."

"Very mature," you say, rolling your eyes. "You know he's going to wake up soon, right?"

As if on cue, a loud "What the fuck?" echoes through the parlour. You all freeze, and then Gojo and Geto dissolve into laughter, Toji smirking.

"You're all so brave," you mutter, as they push you towards the office. "Why me?"

"You're the best at calming him down," Geto insists, still chuckling.

"Yeah, go use those girlfriend superpowers," Gojo adds, winking.

Toji gives you a nudge. "Suck him off if you have to."

You glare at them as you walk towards the office. You can hear Sukuna's muttered curses and the sound of him moving around in the office. Taking a deep breath, you open the door and step inside, closing it behind you.

Sukuna is standing in front of the small mirror on his desk, staring at his reflection with a mix of disbelief and irritation. His face is a canvas of colourful doodles, and his eyes snap to you as you enter.

"Hey, Kuna," you say, trying to keep your voice light. "How was your nap?"

He points to his face. "What the fuck is this?"

"Uh, art?" you offer, giving him a sheepish smile. "The kids got creative."

His glare softens slightly as he looks at you, but he's still clearly annoyed. "And you just let them?"

"I didn't even know until I got back," you explain. "But, hey, it's washable. We can clean it off."

Before Sukuna can respond, Gojo's voice rings out from the other side of the door. "Put in the good work, Y/N, you're saving us all!"

Toji follows up with, "No teeth unless he's into that!"

Sukuna's expression shifts from irritation to something more dangerous. You can almost see the murderous thoughts forming in his mind.

"Ignore them," you say quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "They're just being idiots."

"You think?" he growls, but he doesn't pull away from your touch.

Geto's voice joins in, "Show him who's the real boss, Y/N!"

"And don't forget to swallow!" Gojo adds, laughter in his voice.

Sukuna's eyes narrow, and you step closer, trying to distract him. "They're trying to rile you up."

"They're succeeding," he mutters, but he's looking at you now, his gaze softening as he meets your eyes.

"I'll help you clean it off," you offer, reaching for a cloth and some cleaning solution from his desk. "Sit down."

He sits, still grumbling, and you gently start wiping away the marker. "You know," you say, trying to lighten the mood, "you make a pretty good canvas."

He snorts, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You're lucky I love you."

"I know," you reply, smiling back. "And I love you too, even with marker all over your face."

Gojo's voice calls out again, "Y/N, you still alive in there?"

"Yeah, she hasn't killed me yet," Sukuna shouts back, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, keep up the good work!" Geto hollers.

"Only because you're scared of him," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "They should be."

"Can't argue with that," you agree, finishing up the last of the marker removal. "There, all better."

He stands, looking in the mirror again. "Thanks, babe."

"Anytime," you reply, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now, go deal with those idiots."

You step out of the office with Sukuna, your fingers entwined with his as you walk towards the front desk. Yuji and Megumi are already there, giggling and playing with their toys. You lift them both onto your lap, balancing them with one arm while grabbing your coffee with the other. The kids snuggle into you, their laughter bubbling up as they see Sukuna approaching the trio.

Gojo, Geto, and Toji exchange wary glances, trying to maintain their innocent expressions. "All clean?" Gojo asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

"For now," Sukuna replies, his voice dripping with ominous intent. "Now, who's first?"

The trio scrambles, but Sukuna's quicker. He grabs Toji by the collar and hauls him back, planting him firmly in a chair. "Hold still," Sukuna growls, pulling out a black marker from his pocket.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Toji protests, but he's laughing, clearly enjoying the chaotic turn of events.

Sukuna grins wickedly as he starts drawing on Toji's face, the crude outline of a penis taking shape on his cheek. "Just adding a little artwork. Sit still."

Gojo and Geto can't stop laughing, even as they try to make a run for it. Sukuna is relentless, though. With Toji marked, he quickly corners Geto next, who throws up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I give up!"

"Good choice," Sukuna says, drawing another crude image on Geto's forehead. The laughter continues, echoing through the parlour as Sukuna finally rounds on Gojo, who's been trying to hide behind a potted plant.

"Come on, Sukuna, you don't have to do this," Gojo pleads, but he's grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh, but I do," Sukuna replies, pouncing on Gojo and quickly drawing yet another obscene image on his face as Gojo screams. The room is filled with laughter, yours included, as you sip your coffee and watch the chaos unfold.

Yuji and Megumi are practically bouncing with excitement, their giggles infectious. "Suku drew on their faces!" Yuji exclaims, clapping his hands.

"That he did, Yuji," you say, ruffling his hair. "Isn't it funny?"

Megumi nods vigorously. "Funny!"

Once Sukuna's done, he stands back to admire his handiwork. The three men sit there, each with a ridiculous drawing on their faces, their expressions a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

Sukuna turns to you, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Well, babe, what do you think?"

You raise your coffee cup in a mock salute, grinning from ear to ear. "Beautifully done, Kuna. A masterpiece."

The room erupts in laughter again, and even Sukuna chuckles, his earlier annoyance completely gone. The kids cheer, and you feel a warmth spread through you as you watch everyone having fun together.

"Alright, you three," Sukuna says, crossing his arms and towering over Gojo, Geto, and Toji. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before letting the kids use me as their canvas."

"To be fair, it was pretty funny," Toji says, trying to look innocent despite the crude drawing on his face.

"Yeah, you did look kinda cute with the whiskers," Geto adds, winking at you.

Gojo just laughs, slapping Sukuna on the back. "Consider it payback for all the times you've messed with us."

Sukuna rolls his eyes but can't hide his grin. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't make it a habit."

As the laughter dies down, you take another sip of your coffee, savouring the moment. Life at the parlour is never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1

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magnoliasandarson · 11 days ago

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ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his hand, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Jason scoffed, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting, "You don't need to tell me that," he pointed his cigarette to the ice-glazed stone before them, "I'm not even a Wayne, Mr. CEO Drake-Wayne." It was cruel, it was mean, but Jason couldn't force himself to care.

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."

#dc comics #dc universe #batman #robin #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #red hood #red robin #dc robin #timothy drake #tim drake robin #tim drake wayne #batfamily #jason peter todd #sheila haywood

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yerimbrit · 3 months ago

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[flufftober day 2, wc: 870] - your sweatshirt : y. seoyeon

SOMETHING IS MISSING. no, it’s not the food (or, lack thereof) in your fridge. or the canon digicam that was on your desk, because you watched xinyu sneak it into her tote the other day when she thought you weren’t looking. your hoodie is missing.

on weekend movie nights with your girlfriend, you have a certain hoodie you wear every week without fail. now, weekend movie nights weren’t exactly a thing until around a year ago, and you don’t remember when you started wearing the hoodie during them, but it’s very special, brings back memories to kre’s first stage which you wore it—a white pullover hoodie that has the words “always rooting for s1 yoon seoyeon!” carefully written with a sky blue fabric marker—to.

you still remember the way her eyes sparkled when you surprised her in the waiting room pre-performance, especially after you told her that you wouldn’t be able to make it because of a separate schedule you had as a tripleS member. she held your hand tightly until they were called for standby, her warmth still lingering long after she left.

anyway, you have an inkling of where the garment has gone. a tiny hint. it might be a figure on the couch, wearing the missing item in question.

you approach the figure, standing in front of them and looming over. “i wonder whose sweatshirt that is…”

they sluggishly look up from their phone, revealing the face of none other than your girlfriend. seoyeon raises her eyebrows, looks down at the hoodie she’s wearing, and looks back at you. she disregards the ever-growing blush on her cheeks and flashes a cheeky smile. “yeah, i wonder who.”

this isn’t the first time she’s stolen clothes of yours. it’s a regular thing; you don’t even need to leave the comfort of seoyeon’s room to get a change of clothes, because half of your closet is in her closet. you can’t remember any of your clothes that she hasn’t worn. it’s practically one of her hobbies, adding to the list which consists of lying around, watching movies… and watching more movies.

what’s nice about it, though, is the fact that anything that she steals is too big on her. pajama pants pool around her ankles, and she gains sweater paws from any tops she finds. it’s incredibly endearing, and erases any of the (virtually nonexistent) annoyance you might have towards her. like now, where the weekly movie night sweater is bagging up at the sleeves two years later.

“you’re not gonna give it up, are you?”

“no?” she retorts, patting the empty space next to her which compels you to sit. the netflix home menu is displayed on the tv, ready to play anything of your choosing. last week’s movie was a rewatch of black panther, one of seoyeon’s all-time favorites and one that the two of you probably rewatch monthly. it never gets old. even if you have to watch the outdated ‘what are those?!’ joke hundreds of times over.

you reach for the remote, which is on top of a stack of albums that everyone in the haus (sans soomin) has signed, and navigate through the different genres that the streaming service offers. “what do you want to watch?”

seoyeon hums, resting her head on your shoulder and fiddling around with the drawstrings of (your) hoodie. her eyes are trained on the screen, watching you sift through rows of movies and shows with a look of disinterest. “you pick.”

glancing down at your girlfriend, who’s now focused on tying the drawstrings into a bow, you jut out your lower lip. your gaze drifts over to the ‘horror’ section and smile. well, it is october. seoyeon seems to notice your lack of movement with the remote and looks up, so you scroll over to it.

“no, y/n. you can’t do this to me,” she turns to you, absolutely petrified beyond comprehension. her reaction makes sense, because the last horror movie you watched (with kotone and hyerin, when they came over) resulted in paranoia around the haus despite her confidence in not being scared. and you can’t take her seriously when she tries to convince you not to do something, because she really just ends up looking like sad violin music is about to play.

“pfft,” you ruffle her hair and pull the slightly-tightened hood over her head. “you look like that low quality sad hamster.”

“what did you just say about me?” she frowns, seemingly miffed. “it’s barely october. why should we watch a horror movie?”

“it’s still october—a little bit of the conjuring won’t hurt you, seoyeonnie.”

you press play on the remote, and seoyeon lets out a strangled cry which sounds like a mix of a bird and a dying rat. “you’re dead, y/n. i swear on my life.”

wrapping your arm around her and pulling her closer, you laugh. “we’re not even five minutes in! you’ve got both me and my hoodie you stole, wrapped around you. there’s no need to worry.”

“don’t you hate horror movies too?” seoyeon mumbles into your shoulder, her speech muffled.

oh, that’s what you forgot. but, there’s nothing you can do about it now, is there? “uh… let’s just watch, okay?”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : hamham iwaly

#tripleS x reader #tripleS imagines #yoon seoyeon x reader #yoon seoyeon #yoon seoyeon tripleS #girl group imagines #girl group x reader #flufftober #flufftober2024 #an's flufftober!

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 25 days ago

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What The Heart Desires ❤️💚 (Daddy Dom!BakuKiri x sub!Mina x sub!Reader 18+ Short Fic)

❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️❤️💚❄️

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Ejirou x Mina Ashido x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which two lonely-hearted girls make a wish on a star one Christmas Eve for their hearts’ desires: a Daddy Dom. What they don’t expect that night after their annual Christmas party is to receive that wish in two. When their very special party guests and secret crushes show up unannounced at their door proclaiming their romantic feelings and that these two cuties are theirs, what will our two lonely hearts do? Will they have to choose?

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Pro!KiriBakuMina (Late 20s-Early 30s); Bimbo!sub!Mina x Bimbo!sub!Reader; Dom!KiriBaku; Fantasy; Comedy; Size Difference; Aphrodisiac; Dubcon/R*pe; Body/Chest Worship; Scar Appreciation; Foreplay; Messy Kissing; Spit Play; Cum Play; S*x w/ S*x Toys; Anal Play; Spanking; Choking; Hair-Pulling; Degradation/Praise; Daddy Kink; DDLG; Mild BDSM; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Slutifcation; Objectification; Multiple Positions (Doggystyle, Missionary, Daisy Chain, etc.); Polyamorous; Everyone Is Bi; Mutual Os; Creampies; Ownership; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. BONUS CHAPTER.

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TWO: A WISH ON A STAR.

That cold, snowy night, after the guests go home, the festivities continue with your favorite Christmas activities: decorating the tree, listening to Christmas music, and drinking spiked hot chocolate. Your favorite!

The party ended about an hour ago after you and Mina passed out gift bags to everyone, drunkenly sang Christmas songs, and may or may not have drawn silly faces on a passed-out Denki with magic marker. After cleaning up and taking a hot shower, you and Mina finally are able to chill out for the rest of Christmas Eve.

You stand at your Christmas tree, twinkling and sparkling in lights and glittering ornaments. But your eyes are not alight by any of it. If anything, you feel dull as you stare at the two gift bags left unattended sitting under the tree by your feet. Bakugou and Kiri never came to pick them up. Despite the rest of the party being fun, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to seeing them.

Now, even a hot shower, Bailey’s hot chocolate, and wearing your favorite Christmas romper that makes you feel festive and sexy don’t perk up your spirits.

Mina appears behind you, wrapping her arms around you. She is affectionate anyway, but when she is tipsy, she becomes very touchy-feely…not that you mind. You’re a touchy person yourself. “How’s your chocolate, my love?” she curiously asks. “You’ve barely drunk it.”

Your Santa mug sits next to her Frosty The Snowman mug up on the mantle of the fireplace. Framed photos of your and Mina’s many trips sit on the mantle, reminding you of what you have. “You’re so observant tonight,” you chuckle, leaning back into her. “M’fine, baby. Just waiting for it to cool is all.”

Mina’s hands cascade down your hips to hug them as she presses herself into your ass accentuated by your red-and-white-striped romper. “You look sooo cute in this romper,” she whispers. “Cute enough to keep you all to myself.” She has one on herself, looking like the absolute perfect mix of adorable and sexy in her green romper with red snowflakes and footie socks.

It is a Christmas Eve tradition for you and of sorts to wear your favorite PJs, decorate the tree, get drunk, and possibly have great sex in front of the fireplace. Then in the morning, you fix pancakes dripping in syrup and watch Christmas movies until your family comes over to visit for the holidays.

“You do have me all to yourself,” you reply, trying to sound just as flirty, but it doesn’t quite sound right. Even Mina knows it. You try to hang an ornament on the tree, but she stops you and gently puts it back in the ornament box sitting next to you. She slowly turns you around to face her soft eyes and unruly, pink curls framing her face.

“Okay,” she sighs. “I wasn’t gonna say anything because I figured you were just tired from the party, but…baby, I’m worried about you.” And like an idiot, instead of telling the truth, you continue to lie. “About me?” you parrot, acting confused. “Why?”

Mina shrugs, a slight blush on her pink cheeks. “I dunno…you just seem really far away. Like I can’t really reach you because you’re so in your head.” She laces her fingers through your coily/kinky hair, massaging your scalp the way you like. “What’s goin’ on in there, cutie?” she coos. “We can talk about it. You know I’m a good listener!”

She smiles so brightly at you that it is impossible to lie to her again. Your bubbly, sweet Mina. About 50% bimbo, 50% badass bitch. Someone to get your nails done and shop for short skirts and tight tops with, but also someone to give you kisses and cuddles when you need them. “I know,” you say with a smile. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just…ugh!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling your temple throb. Maybe you shouldn’t have more alcohol. Mina takes your hand and walks you over to the loveseat near your window that overlooks your neighborhood cloaked in white, fluffy snow. “Hey, hey,” she soothingly says. She places you in her lap, tossing your legs over hers. “Just take your time.”

You do. You know you can’t keep lying to your girlfriend, no matter how easy it is to do so. However, you can feel the truth clawing at you, wanting to be let out. So you take a deep breath and stare her right in her golden eyes. “You remember when we were talking about what we wanted for Christmas this year?” You wearily ask. Mina slowly nods.

You nervously play with a button on the front of your romper. It is so tight and short that it hugs your thighs and ass and makes your tits look bigger than usual. W-Well…what I really want this year isn’t money or a new car or a suit.”

“Uh-uh,” Mina gently urges, rubbing comforting circles on your thigh. The truth continues to come up, pushing past your throat. “What I want this year is…a Dom,” you softly confess. “O-Or a Daddy Dom, rather.”

You exhale, relieved. Finally, the truth is out there. But as it hangs in the air, you feel immense fear. Mina’s eyes widen, surprise registering across her face. “Oh!” she exclaims. “Um…okay. I wasn’t expecting that at all.” A blush coats her cheeks, shook by your answer.

You bite your bottom lip, feeling awkward about even thinking about this. “I know we’ve been talking about opening up our relationship to possibly being poly, but we never really discussed it again.”

Mina admitted to possibly being polyamorous when you first started dating, but stressed to you that the only one she wanted was you. Of course, you trusted her and still do! But her confession, your need for a Dom, and your crushes on Kiri and Bakugou definitely made you question your monogamy. “So that’s something you’d want to try?” Mina asks.

You take a moment to think about it. You can’t say you wouldn’t enjoy having a Dom in the picture, taking care of both you and your lovely girlfriend. Having a second partner can’t be that different from having just one, can it?

“Yes,” you reply, still unsure. “And please don’t think that I want this because I think our relationship is boring! Mina, I love you as my girlfriend and I wouldn’t have it any other way…but sometimes, I wish that we had someone to take care of the both of us.”

Mina blinks at you, confused. “Like…in the bedroom, you mean?” she wonders aloud. Now it’s your turn to blush, thanking the Lord he made you a Black woman so it isn’t as visible. “Not just that, though that’s part of it.”

You take a deep breath, finally feeling comfortable enough to explain what you mean. “I want someone who will love and care for us as their submissives and their girlfriends,” you boldly explain. “I want someone who will be there for us the way we are for each other. Someone we can trust letting our walls down with.”

You want the dinner dates, flowers, and cuddles just as much as you want the kinky shit…though the kinky shit is a definite want. You want a firm hand bending you over and punishing you when you’re out of line. You want someone to put you back in your place where you belong. You want someone to reward you when you’re good with some deep dicking and a kiss on the lips, followed by some sweet aftercare snuggles.

While Mina is great at dominating you with her sweet dirty talk, fuzzy pink handcuffs, and A1 pussy-eating, she is a true bratty sub at heart that only a true Dom can handle and punish. You enjoy doing so from time to time, finding her attitude sexy, but you, too, are a submissive down to the bone.

As if peering into your mind, Mina confesses her desires to you. “I want that too,” she admits. You gape at her, shocked. “You do?”

She slowly nods, her cheeks becoming redder, contrasting with her bubblegum pink skin. “I know we were talking about it before, but I didn’t want to bring it up again because I thought it would make things awkward between us.” Her eyes grow big and glassy, her bottom lip wobbling. “I didn’t want you to think that you weren’t good enough for me.”

Your heart bursts for your girlfriend and you squeeze her in a tight embrace. “Oh, Mina, no,” you coo. “I totally understand.” You feel 100% lighter than you did at the party now that the truth is out. And especially now that you know that Mina feels the exact same way that you do—incomplete.

Mina pulls away slightly to look up at you, her eyes downtrodden. “Plus, I’ve been searching for the right person to fill the job, but no one has seemed to impress me,” she sighs, sounding absolutely defeated. “I’ve been giving up on my search. As two subs, we crave a Dom, but who out here is good enough to care for us, Y/N?”

Maybe…perhaps…a certain sweet redhead and hotheaded platinum blonde. But you don’t say that. “You’re right,” you sigh. “I guess there isn’t anyone worthy of that role.”

Sensing your sadness, Mina presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Hey,” she coos. “How about more spiked hot cocoa? I’ll even add more marshmallows.” You smile at her attempt at comforting you. “Thanks,” you giggle, kissing her back on the lips. It only ebbs your blues somewhat.

When you let Mina get up from the couch and she walks to the kitchen with your mug, you find yourself staring out the window at the sky. Fluffy, white blankets of snow cover every inch of your neighborhood while the sky shines with dozens of twinkling stars. What a beautiful night for Christmas Eve. How you wish the stars could give you an answer to your dilemma.

Suddenly, something sparkles from the corner of your eye. You turn your head slightly to the left and there, you see it: the North Star shining brighter than any of its inferior counterparts in the inky black winter sky. It seems to call to you, twinkling brighter and brighter with every blink of your eyes.

You feel stupid even considering this, but you contemplate it further, biting your lip. Finally, you throw in the towel. “I cannot believe I’m doing this,” you sigh to yourself. But what do have to lose?

You kneel on the couch cushion, close your eyes, press your hands together into a prayer, staring up at the North Star.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please give us someone who will care for us like it’s their job. Who will love us unconditionally and put us in our place if they need to. Who will be there for us in our time of need.” You press your lips to your fingers, whispering to them: “Give us a Daddy…please.”

“Y/N!” Mina calls. “Your hot cocoa is ready!”

You startle, your heart jumping into your throat. You open your eyes to see the North Star still twinkling. Just a ball of hot air. Nothing more. You laugh to yourself, ridiculing yourself for doing such a thing. Maybe you need to stop watching so many Disney movies.

“Coming!” you shout and leave your post to go fetch your drink in the hopes that it will wash your winter blues away and leave your stupid fantasies in the dust.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #bimbo reader #mina x black!reader #bakugou x black!reader #kirishima x black!reader #black writers #bnha smut #poly smut #poly love #kiribakumina #poly kiribaku

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aelinschild · 8 months ago

Text

Dropping this and running away.

Regular evenings seemed to come less frequently these days.

Aelin remembered when the drip of some leaky floorboard was the sole pace of her shifts. The dripdripdrip a marker of seconds passed. Ticking in the back of her skull like a pulse she'd long forgotten. A beating heart settled - put down. It's gentle sounding no different than a petulant child. Itching underneath her skin like the uncomfortable scratch of wool gone too long without washing.

She had grown fond of the noise, though. Like the hand of a clock steadily raced forward, so did that godsdamned floorboard. Racing against time, or the composition of the building in it's entirety. She didn't know. Didn't care.

Much of what she did here was just for the wad of cash slipped under worn tables. Hands cracked and peeling - slivers near her nail beds. The blood lasted on the money, so long as it stayed with her longer than a night.

It was why she was still here. Still watching the same game of poker begin for its thousandth consecutive time. Roucous chatter drowning out the drip. The sound of heavy coins denting the rotted wood.

Funny, how it was strong enough to pierce her skin and simultaneously bend to the weight of a piece of silver.

She didn't take well to the irony.

Her shifts had for so long been the same routine. Serve the regulars. Pocket a coin from the gaggle of grannies, crammed into the recess in the wall. A little alcove. Made great shadows to conceal the trick of fast hands and faster tongues. Wipe down the tacky residue that accumulated faster than she could keep track of. Argue with the old man from across the street - he didn't like the (outrageous) fractured neon lights. Pity for him, because when he was knee deep in his points, face red from exasperation, pulling out a chair had the most similar movements as a sly hand into a pocket. Cool cash crawling up her sleeve. He'd leave in a huff and Aelin would be a little lighter when she missed back behind the bar. Then the night would roll in on itself. Drunkenness a curse of this corner of the Earth, she was only powerful enough to keep her head above water and do her job. Close the bar. Count the cash. Wire it away and consider mourning the loss. Until she wouldn't and was back behind the counter.

That was her normal.

And so when her flagging gaze swept across the floor, the appearance of a new piece on the board made her falter. She wished there would be more reaction than the stuttering of her eyes, wished that she felt something deeper, drawn from newness, but there was nothing.

Nothing walked closer to her. She had the thought to smile, make herself pleasant, but the action didn't follow. Nothing laid large hands upon her bartop, the one to her right (nothing's left), crawling with whorls and scribbles. Like a child had gotten a hold of a tattoo gun. How unfortunate. Those hands - large, uncomfortably so - were attached to arms. Shocking, she supposed, as her eyes crawled up along the weaving tattoo. Golden skin and visible definition could have heated something in her. Maybe it did, maybe it had been so long she no longer knew what heated her core.

"...neat,"

Hm?

The dripdripdrip was gone. And with it took the clarity borne from acute annoyance. Hands, arms, shoulders... Was she warm? Or was she losing it?

"Love."

Like a fog had descended over her minds eye, snapped away as quickly as it had formed at the call of that petname. Love. What?

She balked. "Pardon?"

He - nothing, nothing of nothing who is nothing and of no effect to her - pursed his lips. Rolling the flesh between teeth, tightening the hinge of his jaw. Gods, there was definition there too. The angle of that jaw raised to high chedckbones, a tinge of red, pulsed with life. An overwhelming urge to follow that rise and fall, trace the hollows and contours. Feel along the strong brow that framed pine green eyes. Eye that sparkled. Eyes that tightened. Eyes lined with mirth...

"You work here?" He gruffed. The smirk in his eyes didn't reach his voice. But that voice... She'd love to compare it to crashing waves, smoothing over jagged rock. Endlessly leaving a print on what was considered impenetrable. But it instead stroke along a frayed edge in her. Breaking, rather than soothing.

A pause. Where were her words? "Yes."

"Right," he murmured. Muscles flexing as he rapped his knuckles along the worn bartop. She wanted to tell him to not. Grab his fist in her own and hold tight above the shitty wooden slab. Cover it with her own. "Then I'll get a whiskey. Neat."

Crawl over the tanned skin. "Of course." Trace the inked designs. "Just give me moment." Litter a marking somewhere.

Something tangible.

"Yes!"

She didn't know how it had really happened.

Well, she did. She had played her part, and now was enjoying the outcome. Somewhere along the lines of him ordering the whiskey, leaning only lightly against the barstool, delicately draped like he was ready to spring up at a moment notice. She had wandered around. Who knew that dust collected so quickly on tables that were just cleaned? Repetitive movements only let her drift into the sensation of green eyes pinned to her back. Lower, even.

She needed extra cleaner from the back. And it was only an accident that her hand grazed his upper thigh. She had practice in the deft movements that could steal a pretty coin, but her fingers didn't dig in, clasping around valuables. Rather, she had grazed the worn jean. Lighting a blaze, trailing the fire down to his knee.

It had pulsed in her core as she walked to the back room. The bar quieter, different to the usual rowdiness of a Saturday. She had swayed her hips a little more. Sensual machinations coming back like the flip of a switch. She felt a buzz in her head, unlike a dripdripdrip of a leaky floorboard.

It was stuffy. Her face so close to his, the height difference didn't serve them well at first, until he had hoisted her up around his waist. Her legs locking her tight. She had felt the heat of his body. Felt the heat through the clothes - get them off - felt the heat from her body, emanating out in a pulsing rhythm.

She had been panting. Breath coming out faster and faster as she wiggled her hips to tuck deeper into the hardness she felt pressing into her core. Writhing would get her nowhere when he was holding her in his arms. Her mouth found the underside of his jaw, and she sucked hard.

His groan was music to her ears.

Her apron fell. Ripped apart by those large hands. How much could they hold? He was surprisingly deft with unbuttoning the front of her dirty blouse. Button after button, down until he could rip it from her waistband, and shuck it off her shoulders.

Her bra was nothing special. Some department store sale piece, but it didn't matter, because it was off just as quickly and she was bare from the waist up.

"Off." She tugged at his shirt, taking a break from marking up his neck. She wanted to feel him against her. Skin to skin. She needed the contact more than anything. She was burning.

He had leaned her back, still in his hold. A little rough, her head nearly crashing into the wall they were pressed up agaisnt. She'd forgive him though, when he snaked one arm behind his head and expertly peeled the shirt from his torso.

Gods. Gods above, was this her lucky night. The tattoo wound all the way from his wrisr to his neck, matching like a puzzle along his chest. Corded with muscle, Built from genuine use, she could tell. This man was not built of aesthetics.

Her fingers found the hardened planes of his stomach, pressing lightly along the muscles. It tightened under her hand. Palms pushing agains the tautness of his abdomen, she didn't know whether to trail back up to his mouth, or push lower.

"Hold on," he bit out. Breathless just as she was.

She dug her nails into the shoulder she was tracing, his hand snaked to the button on his jeans. Her breaths came more rapidly now. Blood rushing through her ears. It was hands and tongues and teeth and no other thoughts. Nothing but what would come next. Nothing at all.

The zipper was so loud amongst their panting. But it was pulled down, and Aelin made a effort to shuck off her pants as well. But where her thighs were stretched around his waist kept her from making any further moves. She wanted nothing between them.

"Hurry up," she hissed, pressing herself back against him.

He shuddered when she pulled him tight, nails digging deeper. She hoped they would mark him. Stay with him longer then this moment. "Gods." It's not soft the way he shoves them closer into the wall. The way his hand is under her nondescript panties in seconds. Burning a trail along the most intimate skin. He stalls there for a second. Aelin is pulsing; in her head, in her blood, in her cunt.

His eyes find hers. Green and vibrant and swirling and dark. All blown wide with lust. He keeps her trapped there, pinned by his gaze while his fingers swipe along her folds. Through them, deeper until they wetten with the arousal she surely though was dripping down her leg by this point. He traces along for a moment, and she has half a mind to snap at him to hurry it up when his thumb is pressing into her clit so hard she sees stars.

She squeaks out a breathless yelp.

"You're soaking," he drawls, mouth coming down to the skin at the coloumn of her neck. He breaths into her, breathes her in. "Just waitin' for me, weren't you? All pretty behind your bar top."

She would roll her eyes if they weren't already at the back of her skull from the pleasure. He kept a steady hand on her clit while rough fingers slipped back through her folds, down to where she needed him most. Yes. The roar in her head heightened.

"Please..."

He hummed. "Please what?" A smirk, in voice or against her skin, she could not tell "Please who?"

Fuck. She hadn't gotten his name either. They had tumbled into the closet so quickly, bodies pressed so close, that introductions had been skipped. She thought she could make it throigh without his name. But this bastard was going to hold it over her head.

Fingers traced around her entrance; probing, waiting.

"Please... Sir. Fuck me."

He laughed. She jostled with the movement and his fingers pushed against her just right. "I'll let it slide," and with little pause, he pushed in. Slicking in quick, easy, the slide only assisted with the way she was falling apart in waiting for him. Two - two - fingers stretching her wide and pushing that rising wave higher. She keened a breathy whine when he curled those rough fingers. Pressing hard into that spot inside of her she could never reach herself.

His breath curled around her ear. He bit the shell of it before murmuring "But you better call me Rowan. No Gods or Sir. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."

She nodded, feverish for more. He bared his teeth in a satisfied smile, increasing the pace of his fingers inside of her. She had hardly noticed when he swapped his thumb for the heel of his palm against her clit. But she felt it now. Pushing against her whole he slicked up her panties. The wave rose higher and higher.

"Rowan!" She cried. "Ah! Don't stop... Please."

"Wasn't even thinking of it, love." He kept her trapped under his gaze. And she wanted to look away when her jaw dropped in white-hot pleasure but something in his eyes promised to hurt if she did. "There you go, pretty girl." She moaned at his comment, riding high after the crashing of the orgasm. She could feel every press of his fingers inside her as he stilled them, still sensitive even after the rush of pleasure.

And oh, was she riding a fine line. Legs a little shaky and breath hurried. But when Rowan pulled out - to her displeasure - and brought those hands to his face, to his mouth, and licked her clean off of them.

She whined. A pitchy sound that worked its way out of her as he stared into her eyes, licking along the crevices between fingers. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he quickly shoved those same fingers against her tongue and pressed down. Freezing her there.

"Taste like heaven, love. But that was only the first course"

Jeans ripped off and pants pulled down. She swapped the wall against her back for cold air. Stiffening nipples to an even harder peak than what they had come to in post-orgadmic bliss. More more more, she changed in her head. She was so sensitive and so ready and so-

She squeaked. He had pulled himself from the confines of his underwear. She has missed it. Blissed out with the feel of him against his chest, but he was there, notching against her entrance in hasty movements.

He eyes met hers, "Condom?"

Fuck her. "I'm on the pill."

His grin was feral. His grip tightened to a near bruising hold. She felt his cock prod at her entrance, and he pushed it around, catching on the arousal she had spilled. At least he had prepped her. She hadn't seen his size, had felt it, yes, but this man seemed like he was blessed, if only judging by what she had already seen.

The moment spans, and her what desire jumped thrpigh her at a rushing pace came to a near stall. The dripdripdrip threatening to return, when the air was punched from her lungs as he pushed up, up and into her in one stoke.

"Ah! Rowan!" She choked. Stretched so full she felt him in her stomach. Tears brimmed her eyes as the stretch ached. Gods, the prep wasn't enough, and the tight grip on him must have let him know, as he held still, caressing her back and down to her ass, before his hand snaked back around to her clit.

She moaned, sharp little breaths as he circled his finger with enough pressure to relax the tightness in her body. She hadn't noticed, but when she looked up to his eyes, wanting to see him fully, his jaw was tensed so tight that the muscles of his neck pulled. Was he in pain?

"Ah... Rowan, wh-whats wrong?" Her tears brimmed and fell over. A loosening in her core and a rushing through her mind. Every sensation was a fire lit inside of her, so much so that she didn't notice as the pain morphed into pleasure, and how she could feel every ridge, every vein, of his cock inside of her. Inside of her, gods, he needs to move.

"Nothing," he gave a shallow thrust, Aelin keened. "Jus' squeezing me so fuckin' tight I can barely breath."

"Y-yeah?" She laughed, salty lines tracing down her face. "Gonna come?"

The words were out of her mouth before she had really considered the implication of them. She was no sadist, liked the high better then the route there, but something in her tingled (beside his cock, nudging deeper and deeper with every breath) at the fire that lit in his eyes.

He laughed, a deep rumble from within, and moved. Soon, they were back up against the wall. Aelin squeezed him so tight, wanting some pleasure and wanting it now. And maybe she was egging him on more. But when Rowan tossed her legs up above the crook of his elbows - rendering her immobile - and pulled out, she almost came again there.

He pushed back in with so much force that her hands came up to cover her mouth. He set a relentless pace, hair falling over his brow and beads of sweat beginning to form at his brow. He leaned over her, pushing closer and closer and testing the limits of her flexibility. Aelin was still moaning, but it was punched out in a yelp every time his cock shoved deeper inside. The slick noises only added to the lewdness. "You gonna come? Huh, love? Gonna come for me now or do I need to fuck you harder?"

He was teasing her.

He leaned down, she dropped her hand, expecting his mouth to close over hers. But he just smirked. When his tongue traced the lines of her tears, licking all the way up her face, she closed her eyes and let go. Falling deeper into the sensation.

It wasn't long before he bored of licking her face. His mouth did finally come to her, and she let him into her mouth so fast that her head was spinning. He still thrusted in, a relentless thwap at every entrance inside of her, and she felt the wave rising again. She traced up his abs, winding around his shoulders to grip onto his hair and pull, just as he pushed in so deep she saw stars.

"Come," he growled. Tiny little movements only to plant himself deeper inside. The roaring came back to her head and she nearly screamed when it hit her. Harder than anything she felt before. Harder than she knew how to handle. Rowan groaned above her, and that was it.

He came inside her. Flooded her cunt so thoroughly it was actually uncomfortable. And it dripped down when he pulled out with little celebration. She whined at the loss of him. Whined more when he set her on her feet and stepped away.

"Thanks, love." He said, breathless and reverent. She felt lost in the aftermath. Head empty and body shocked.

"Yeah. Yeah, no problem...?" It came out as a question and she didn't know what to think. He grabbed a tissue from someplace and offered it to her. Well, at least he did something. Strange and beautiful man. Rowan, oh Rowan.

"Fucked you so hard you forget how to think, huh?" He smiled. Less feral than before, but still the edge of a knifes blade inside of those green eyes. She just nodded, reaching for her clothes that had been scattered on the floor.

She guessed that he was giving her space to come down, giving her a moment. But it crashed into the dirt when he gripped her chin between his forefinger and thumb and searched so deep into her eyes. He held her in his grip, both naked and reeling, and said, "don't shut me out, love." Before he pressed his lips to hers again. Kissing the roaring in her head to a stop and breathing something into her. Something she'd like to hold onto.

"I'll be back. Proper date and all soon, alright love?" He said as he stepped into his pants. Dressing with all the grace he had exhibited while fucking her a moment ago. What? He just moved for the door, shucking his shirt back over those beautiful shoulders and hiding the length of his tattoo. "Don't wander too far away anytime. I don't want to waste my time chasing."

The door opened, just a crack, "I'll see you soon, Aelin."

When Aelin was clothed and less in mental limbo, she pulled on the conversation (one-sided). Some deep, darker part of her was satisfied to see the nails marks she had driven into his back. Some tangible sore he'd no doubt have to clean up, if he wanted the blood off. She smiled to herself.

It wasn't until she was stepping out of the backroom that she realized Rowan had called her Aelin. Had said goodbye to Aelin.

She had never told him her name.

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theperksofbeingstupid · 7 months ago

Text

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit moved into their new house six weeks ago after the tragic death of Roier's son. Roier's partner (what was her name again?) slowly stopped talking to him after that, and they didn't need such a big house anymore so. They move.

It's a nice house, all things considered. One floor, big windows that let in light all day, a porch, nice backyard. No extra bedrooms.

Cellbit has claimed a corner of the living room as his office. He put up a corkboard on one wall and is steadily covering it with newspaper clippings and red string. His desk is cluttered with books and notes and coffee stains, and every time Roier passes by, his footsteps stir up dust that he was so sure he'd cleaned.

The sun sets early now. It gets dark so fast that Roier has to flick on the lights or else Cellbit will ruin his eyes trying to read his handwriting by the dim light of the television they never turn off.

Roier watches it sometimes. He doesn't know where they left the remote and he can't really be bothered to get up and change the channel. They're always playing some menial drama, or cycling through commercials for products he'll never need. He can never quite remember what the story is about.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit sleep in the same bed every night. Technically.

Roier is tucked in at 10pm sharp every night. Cellbit doesn't drag himself into their bedroom until at least four in the morning and he barely remembers to slip out of his clothes before he's crashing into the sheets.

Roier wakes up at 7am on the dot and wanders into the kitchen to make breakfast. He gets dressed. He cleans the house. He doesn't think about the face he's forgetting, a child he loved and clutched tightly to his chest as he bled out all over his lap. He doesn't think about it he doesn't think about it he doesn't think about it he doesn't-- Roier clicks on the coffee machine at 1pm and waits for Cellbit to groan awake and stumble into his seat at the table.

They kiss, usually. When Roier is cooking dinner, Cellbit will press up against his back and dig his face into Roier's hair and they're happy. Cellbit will plop a wet kiss on Roier's cheek when he thinks he's being quiet while getting into bed. Roier cherishes each and every one, they melt into his skin like the snowflakes they used to crumple into snowballs to throw at each other. Before, back when--

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit love their new house. It's perfect in every way possible. It has furniture, it has a bathroom with two sinks so they can brush their teeth together in the mornings. It has big windows that let in the light all day, a porch, nice backyard. There is only one bedroom.

They don't have many neighbours, not that they'd know. They stick to themselves mostly, Cellbit in his makeshift office and Roier wandering the house, dragging his knuckles along the bare walls. He thinks he remembers paint, covering marker stains and scratching out height marks and hand prints in three different sizes. But the walls are always blank.

Cellbit forgets to use a coaster, and he keeps knocking over empty coffee mugs all over his papers. Roier hasn't tried reading them in weeks. He wonders if they make as much sense as the books on the singular shelf in their bedroom.

Roier takes care of the house while Cellbit works. It's an equal exchange, especially considering that when Roier cooks Cellbit has to do the dishes, keep them as sparkling clean as everything else in the house. The laundry machine is tucked away in the far corner of the kitchen, with no dryer in sight. He piles it with clothes he didn't bother to sort from the hamper, shoving in towels and socks and shirts all in one load. They always come out fine anyways, the colour bleached out by the rigorous washing cycle.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit got married three years ago in a small venue with close friends and family present. It was a sweet ceremony, they kissed tenderly at the end, Cellbit ugly cried when they exchanged rings, and Roier got frosting smeared all over his white suit.

Two months later they moved into their old place, decorated a child's bedroom, took care not to step on any toys, and lived their happily ever after.

Until they couldn't anymore. But everything is fine, they have a new house now, and it's wonderful. It didn't cost much to buy it, the location is nice, everything is clean and crisp and ready for a brand new start.

Cellbit runs out of red string one evening, but Roier offers him white thread he was using to mend one of his jackets and everything is fine.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit are in love. They do everything for the other, they're family, they're best friends, they're lovers.

They only have each other.

Roier watches tv and cooks dinner, Cellbit sits at his desk and covers the corkboard with more and more pages until it's no longer visible. He gets into the habit of adding milk to his coffee, the taste too bitter and grating otherwise. And every afternoon when he arrives at the kitchen, his splash of milk in the mug grows longer and longer. It's fine, they're changing.

There was a point in time when they were saving up for a car. Something dependable that they could trust to withstand tiny kicking feet and mudstains, that could travel to volleyball practice and then to work with no trouble.

Now, Roier wanders the house and thinks about nothing. He thinks about his nothing walls and his nothing furniture and his nothing dinner. He thinks about his everything husband and his nothing life. He thinks that he might've lost his bandana in the wash the other day, but Cellbit likes it when his hair hangs loose.

Cellbit's hair hangs loose also. It's soft when Roier cards his fingers through the strands and wonders if it was always more white than brown. Was it ever not white? He's always had light brown hair, but something itches in the back of his brain that makes him pause and question whether Cellbit's hair was ever that light also. Clearly he's not sleeping enough, it's just the sunlight from the windows bleaching their hair.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit have a lovely new house far away from the bustle of the city. They love it here.

They don't have to worry about anyone bothering them while they're at home, and their fridge is always stocked with plain yoghurt and tofu and chickpeas. Roier is working on fixing Cellbit's diet.

They eat dinner together, holding hands over the table. They watch mindless tv before bed. They brush their teeth together in the morning. Roier thinks about how much he loves Cellbit, and Cellbit looks at Roier like he hung the moon. They don't worry about crayon lines on the walls or jello splotches on the sofa. Roier doesn't worry about the phantom feeling of a small body cooling in his lap lingering every time he gets dressed for the day. Cellbit doesn't worry about the gasping pain in his chest or the papers he doesn't remember writing.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit love each other, and they love their new house.

Roier and Cellbit don't have anyone else, just the white walls and the white furniture and their white clothes. Why would they need anyone else?

Roier and Cellbit got sold a new house by a man who was also a bear. And they never want to leave.

Roier and Cellbit are happy.

Roier and Cellbit are safe.

Roier and Cellbit have been missing for six weeks, if you have any information please call--

#I WROTE A THING #SPIDERBIT PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR FOR THE PEOPLE WOOOOOO #qsmp fanfiction #spiderbit #:pencil:#hammered this out in like an hour bc the brainworms are real #ill post it to ao3 later maybe

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livdomtruther · 3 months ago

Text

INKED LOVE.

Dominik's eyebrows furrowed as he hurried to Liv's place, his heart pounding with worry. Her call had been urgent, her voice laced with anxiety, so he had rushed over, expecting some kind of emergency. But now, sitting in her cozy living room with fairy lights casting a soft glow on the walls, he found himself forcibly seated in front of a small, cluttered table. The air smelled faintly of lavender, a scent he associated with Liv, but it did little to calm his confusion.

Liv, with a determined expression, leaned over his arm, carefully filling in the intricate swirls of his tattoo with a glittery marker. Each stroke of the pen shimmered under the light, making his normally dark ink blaze with vibrant colors. She seemed completely engrossed in her work, tongue poking slightly out in concentration as she added silver to the edges.

"So this was the emergency?" he asked, trying to hide the grin threatening to break through his stern expression. Despite himself, a soft chuckle escaped. He watched as the golds, pinks, and blues melded into his skin.

"Mmhmm..." Liv hummed absently, her eyes never leaving her task. She didn't spare him even a glance, her brow furrowed with the same determination she must have imagined he had when he came rushing through her door. She moved the marker with precision, considering each color choice like an artist would a masterpiece, ensuring every line and curve was filled just right.

Dominik couldn't help but feel the tension drain from his shoulders. The absurdity of it all—how he had raced here thinking the worst, only to end up as a canvas for Liv's impromptu art—was too ridiculous not to smile at.

He couldn't help but admire her in that moment. Liv’s face was framed by strands of loose hair, the soft light catching in her eyes, making them glimmer with an ethereal glow. To Dominik, her beauty felt almost unreal—like she had been plucked from a dream and brought into his reality. How did he manage to be with her? Liv was an angel in his eyes, incapable of doing any wrong. She exuded a warmth that soothed his worries and made the world outside of this room fade away.

As her delicate fingers moved across his skin, he began to relax, sinking into the gentle rhythm of her touch. The glide of the markers across his arm was surprisingly calming, even when her long stiletto nails brushed against his skin, sending a ticklish shiver up his spine. Yet, instead of discomfort, it filled him with a peculiar sense of tranquility, like he could stay in this moment forever.

He suddenly noticed how she had shifted from simply coloring in his tattoos to drawing little doodles on the unmarked patches of his arms—tiny stars, hearts, and smiley faces, all in a vibrant, glittery pink. The sight of her focus, the way her brow furrowed as she drew each whimsical design, made him chuckle, a sound that echoed warmly between them.

"You're quite the artist," he teased, his voice light. But then, as the words left his lips, a thought flickered through his mind, his expression shifting from playful to contemplative. An idea took root, and his eyes widened with a sudden excitement.

"You should draw me a tattoo, baby," he said, the suggestion tumbling out before he could second-guess it. His words made Liv pause, the marker hovering just above his skin. She looked up at him, and for a moment, there was a silence between them, filled only with the soft hum of the room. Then her eyes lit up, sparkling with an infectious enthusiasm that made his heart skip a beat.

"Really?" she asked, a grin spreading across her lips, her excitement almost palpable. Dominik felt his own smile deepen in response, the promise of something new and special between them settling in the air.

He cupped her cheeks with his hands, the freshly colored-in tattoos catching the light, making them shimmer with every subtle movement. The glittery designs sparkled against his skin, and Liv couldn't help but giggle at the sight, her laughter soft and warm between them. A rosy flush spread across her cheeks, creeping up to her ears. No matter how long they had been together, Dominik’s touch always had a way of making her heart race, making her feel like she was falling in love with him all over again.

"Mhm, orrr..." he drawled, his voice playful as he let the words hang in the air. He had brought this idea up before, hinting at it with subtle suggestions, but she had never seemed entirely sure. Dominik didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with—he knew that wasn't the way. But today, with her hands still holding a glittery marker and the air between them humming with unspoken possibilities, he felt a little braver.

"How about we get matching tattoos, and you draw them?" he proposed, his tone softening as he tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. His touch was tender, tracing the heat that lingered there from her blush.

Liv’s eyelashes fluttered, and she bit her lip, her playful demeanor turning thoughtful. She hesitated, the question hanging in the air between them as she pondered his suggestion. Her brow furrowed slightly, uncertainty reflecting in her eyes as she met his gaze. "But where would we even get them, hm?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity as she considered the idea.

Dominik’s grin widened at her question, a spark of excitement lighting up his face. "How about behind our ears, where it’s a little secret just for us? Or we could put them on our ankles, something small and simple," he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand never left her cheek, his thumb still tracing slow, soothing circles on her skin as he watched her reaction closely. He could see the wheels turning in her mind, the thought of sharing something so permanent, so uniquely theirs, dancing behind her eyes.

Liv slowly turned her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied both of Dominik’s arms, searching for the perfect spot. She took her time, scanning each line and curve, before gently grabbing his right arm. With a shy smile, she pointed to a bare patch of skin on his right wrist, where the smoothness of his skin was unbroken by ink. "How about here?" she suggested softly, her cheeks still flushed with a lingering warmth that she couldn’t quite hide.

Dominik raised a brow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Somebody wants our matching tattoos to be on display, hm?" he teased, his voice carrying a mischievous lilt. Liv rolled her eyes dramatically, but a smile tugged at her lips, betraying her playful mood.

"I'm going to poke your eyes out with my nails, I swear," she shot back, waving her glittery marker-clad fingers in a mock threat. But her expression softened again, and she let out a small, thoughtful sigh. "Yeah, I’d like for our tattoos to be there for everyone to see. You usually wear long pants for your gear, and behind the ear isn't always visible." Her voice was shy but earnest, as if she was revealing a little piece of her heart with each word.

The sincerity of her words made Dominik’s smirk melt into a wide grin, a rush of affection flooding through him. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her and began smothering her face in a flurry of playful, enthusiastic kisses. Liv squealed in surprise, dissolving into fits of giggles as she tried to squirm away from his affectionate attack. Her laughter rang through the room, bright and infectious, making his chest feel light and warm.

After what felt like an eternity of kisses, Dominik finally pulled back, leaving her breathless and still giggling in his arms. He met her eyes with a bright, boyish excitement as he spoke up again. "Sooo... I could probably get us an appointment with my artist for today even," he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His smile was as wide as ever, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, hoping to see the same excitement mirrored in Liv's expression.

Liv felt her heart flutter, a bundle of nerves twisting in her chest. She was still a bit hesitant, unsure if she was truly ready to commit to something so permanent. But then she looked at Dominik's face—his eyes bright with eagerness, his smile wide and genuine—and her resolve melted like ice in the sun. She couldn't resist that genuine excitement, the way he made everything feel a little less scary and a little more like an adventure.

"Only if I get to color in your other arm," she countered, trying to sound stern but barely hiding the playful smirk tugging at her lips. She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to keep up the pretense of negotiation, though inside, she was already caving.

Dominik let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically as if the idea was a burden. "Hmmm..." he dragged out the sound, pretending to ponder her demand, but the glint in his eyes gave him away. When he noticed her narrowing her eyes at him, arms still crossed and her glare pointed right at him, he couldn't hold back a laugh.

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" he said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender, a wide grin splitting his face. "Whatever makes my pretty girl happy, I'll let you do," he added, his voice softening as he reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Liv’s cheeks burned, and she quickly turned her head, trying to hide the flush that spread across her face. "Whatever," she muttered, but her lips quirked up into a small smile as she reached for another pack of glittery markers, eager to dive back into their playful project.

As she fiddled with the new markers, Dominik leaned closer, his tone growing a little more serious. "Remember to draw our tattoo, mkay?" he reminded her, his words gentle but filled with a hopeful undercurrent. He was trusting her with this, letting her creativity shape the symbol that would connect them.

Liv nodded, her fingers brushing over the colored caps of the markers as she thought. After a moment of quiet, she glanced back up at him, her voice soft as if she were sharing a secret. "How do you feel about yin and yang tattoos?" she asked, her tone gentle, as if she wasn’t sure how he’d react to the idea. The question hung in the air between them, as she hoped he’d see the meaning behind the suggestion—a symbol of balance, of two halves that complemented each other perfectly, just like them.

"I absolutely love that idea!" Dominik replied with a burst of enthusiasm, his smile so wide that it made Liv’s heart swell with warmth. In that moment, she felt like her chest might burst from the rush of affection that flooded her. He made everything feel so easy, so right, and his excitement washed away any lingering doubts she had about their matching tattoos.

A few minutes passed, and Liv had settled back into her artistic rhythm, leaning over his arm with careful concentration. This time, the soft, soothing tunes of Laufey played in the background, filling the room with a gentle melody that helped her focus. It wasn’t too loud, just the right volume to fill the space without distracting her from her work.

“Pass me the silver, baby,” she asked gently, her eyes focused on a delicate detail she was adding to his arm. Dominik grabbed a marker and handed it over, but she didn’t notice right away that he had passed her the gold one instead. As she colored in a small section, her brows suddenly furrowed, realizing the mix-up.

“Babe, I said the silver one...” she giggled, glancing up at him with an amused smile. The realization struck Dominik, and he broke into laughter, the sound rich and warm as it filled the room. He leaned closer to her, his shoulder bumping playfully against hers as he laughed. The warmth of his body against hers made the moment even sweeter.

Liv couldn't help but join in, her own laughter mingling with his. She reached out and interlocked their arms, pulling him closer as they shared in the lighthearted moment. For a second, they just stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s laughter, the air between them filled with a carefree joy that made her heart feel light.

“I didn’t think the silver would really show or look good,” he admitted through his giggles, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he watched her reaction. There was a mischievous glint in his eye, as if he’d known all along what he was doing.

Liv rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the smile that tugged at her lips. “Well, mister creative direction, let’s see how this turns out then,” she teased back, dipping the gold marker back into its cap before reaching for the silver one herself. Dominik’s laughter softened into a fond smile, his gaze lingering on her as she went back to work, feeling like there was no place in the world he’d rather be than right here, sharing this moment with her.

Liv spent about two hours meticulously coloring in his tattoos, each stroke of her marker applied with care and precision. Dominik sat there patiently, not moving an inch, making sure she had the perfect canvas to work on. He could feel her focus in the way she worked, and he didn’t want to break that concentration, not when she was so absorbed in her little art project. Meanwhile, he managed to get them both an appointment with his tattoo artist for later that day, sealing their plans for the matching tattoos.

By the time Liv was done, she leaned back, taking in the final result with a bright, amused smile. Dominik’s arms were a riot of glittery colors, catching the light with every small movement he made. His skin shimmered with gold, pink, silver, and all the shades in between. Liv couldn’t contain her giggles, her joy bubbling up as she admired her handiwork, while Dominik watched her with a fond smile.

He wasn't even the slightest bit upset about being turned into a human disco ball. Seeing his güerita so happy made everything worth it, and the way her laughter lit up her face made his heart feel full.

"I have no clue how I'm going to explain this to my tattoo artist," he chuckled, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation. His voice held a note of mock exasperation, but there was no hiding the warmth in his eyes as he watched Liv's cheeks flush from her laughter.

After a good hour of Liv diligently helping Dominik wipe all the glittery marker off his skin, he finally drove them both to the tattoo parlor. The car ride was filled with laughter, music blaring from the speakers as they sang along to their favorite songs. The atmosphere was light and carefree, a perfect prelude to the adventure that lay ahead.

Once they arrived, they walked in hand in hand, Liv’s heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. She stood next to Dominik, fidgeting slightly as he spoke to his tattoo artist, her mind racing with thoughts of the tattoo that was about to become a permanent part of her.

“Mi güerita took almost one hour trying to draw this for us,” Dominik said proudly, handing over the paper with the yin and yang design. The artist took it with a nod, a smile playing on his lips as he examined the artwork.

After about twenty minutes of chatting and preparing, they were finally ushered into the tattooing room. Dominik’s thumb gently caressed Liv’s hand, a soft, reassuring touch that helped her feel a little more at ease. She took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in hers, grounding herself amidst the swirling butterflies in her stomach.

Liv had decided to go first, eager to get it done quickly so she could focus on Dominik and support him afterward. As she settled into the chair, she could feel the tension building inside her, her heart racing at the thought of the needle. But throughout it all, Dominik’s gaze never left her. He watched her lovingly, his eyes filled with care and admiration, the way he always looked at her when she was at her most vulnerable.

His hand remained interlocked with hers, providing an anchor in this new experience. The sound of the tattoo machine buzzing filled the room, but Liv found comfort in Dominik’s presence. With every gentle squeeze of his hand, she felt a little more grounded, and soon enough, the nervous energy started to melt away. Being with him made everything feel better, reminding her that they were in this together.

The tattoo didn’t take as long as Liv had anticipated, and before she knew it, she was being led to the mirror to see the final result. The moment she caught sight of her wrist, her eyes widened, and she couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. She squealed with joy, a bright, infectious sound that filled the room.

She wanted the moment to be special, so she turned to Dominik, urging him to look at their tattoos at the same time. "Look at how cute!!" she exclaimed, pressing her wrist against his excitedly, her eyes sparkling with delight. The yin and yang design looked even better than she had imagined, its lines clean and vibrant, the colors representing their unique connection.

Dominik couldn’t help but admire her, a big, warm smile spreading across his face as he took in her reaction. Her excitement was absolutely adorable, a light that made the entire experience even more meaningful. He felt a rush of happiness watching her revel in their shared moment, the love they held for one another shining brightly.

He looked down at his own wrist, where the matching tattoo sat proudly beside hers. He was just as thrilled with how it turned out. While Dominik was used to getting tattoos and had grown accustomed to the sensation of the needle, this experience was different. He had Liv by his side, her hand intertwined with his throughout the entire process. Even though he was familiar with the feeling, her touch ignited a fluttering sensation in his stomach, sending butterflies dancing with each squeeze of her fingers.

In that moment, as they stood side by side, both wearing their new tattoos with pride, the world around them faded away. It was just the two of them, their hearts connected by ink and love, and neither of them could imagine a more perfect way to celebrate their bond.

Dominik’s hands found their way to Liv’s hair, ruffling it gently, a tender gesture that sent a rush of warmth through her. He leaned down slightly, their height difference making his actions even more affectionate as he looked deep into her eyes, searching for that spark of connection they always shared. “You wanna get some tacos?” he asked, his voice low and soft, his gaze unwavering and full of adoration.

Liv’s heart fluttered at his words, a smile blooming on her lips as she stared back into his eyes. “Mhm, sounds good!” she replied, her excitement evident in her voice. The atmosphere around them felt electric, the air thick with an unspoken tension as they held each other’s gaze, lost in the moment. Time seemed to stand still as they leaned closer, both of them caught up in the intimacy of their shared space.

But just as their lips were about to touch, the tattoo artist’s voice suddenly broke the spell. “Can you two get a room?” he teased, and they both pulled away, laughter bubbling up between them at the interruption. It was a lighthearted moment that drew them back to reality, but the warmth of the encounter lingered.

After exchanging playful glances and a few more giggles, they left the tattoo parlor, their hands still intertwined as they walked outside into the bustling afternoon. The sun bathed the street in a warm golden light, casting soft shadows as they made their way to Dominik’s car. The scent of fresh paint and antiseptic lingered in the parlor, but as they stepped into the open air, the rich aroma of food began to envelop them.

The drive to the taco truck was filled with a comfortable silence punctuated by laughter and playful banter. As they approached the truck, the vibrant colors of the painted vehicle caught Liv’s eye—bright greens, yellows, and reds, all blending together to create an inviting atmosphere. The sound of sizzling meats and the chatter of hungry customers filled the air, making her stomach growl in anticipation.

Dominik parked the car and they hopped out, the sun warming their skin as they walked towards the truck. The tantalizing smell of grilled carne asada and fresh tortillas wafted toward them, making Liv’s mouth water. The truck was adorned with colorful murals depicting traditional Mexican sscene.

They joined the line, the excitement palpable as they browsed the menu plastered on the side of the truck. Liv’s eyes lit up at the various options—each one sounding more mouthwatering than the last. She could see the steam rising from the grill, and the sight of perfectly charred meat and freshly chopped cilantro sent her taste buds into a frenzy.

As they stepped up to the taco truck, the warm, rich aroma of freshly grilled meats filled the air. Dominik leaned in with a familiar smile and greeted the vendor with a friendly wave. “¡Hey, Solange, ha sido mucho tiempo, ¿no?” (Hey, Solange, it's been a while, no?) he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. Liv stood beside him, picking up on the familiar sounds of Spanish she had learned over time, thanks to Dominik. From the easy way he spoke, she could tell that Solange must have been an old friend of his.

Solange, a lively woman with a welcoming smile, looked up from the grill, her eyes brightening at the sight of Dominik. “¡Dom, sí que ha pasado tiempo! Veo que trajiste a tu novia por primera vez,” (Dom, it's been awhile! I see you brought your girlfriend for the first time.) she replied with a playful smirk, her tone carrying a teasing edge that made Dominik chuckle.

Liv, catching enough of the conversation to understand, smiled warmly at Solange, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. The older woman turned her attention to Liv for a moment, her eyes crinkling kindly. “Es una belleza,” (She's a beauty.) Solange added, her voice sincere as she gave Liv an approving nod.

Liv’s blush deepened, but her smile grew even wider, feeling welcomed into this little part of Dominik’s world. Dominik’s smirk softened as he glanced at Liv, then back at Solange, pride shining in his eyes. “Lo sé, toda mía,” (I know, all mine.) he replied confidently, his voice playfully possessive as he wrapped an arm around Liv’s shoulders, pulling her a little closer against him.

Liv leaned into his touch, her heart fluttering as she felt the warmth of his arm around her. Solange watched them, her smile widening at their obvious affection for one another. The moment felt like a snapshot in time—Dominik introducing Liv to a piece of his past, sharing a part of himself that was familiar and meaningful. It was more than just ordering food; it was like blending their lives together, one small but significant gesture at a time.

“Amorcita, ¿te gustan los tacos de birria?” (Love, do you like birria tacos?) Dominik asked Liv, his voice gentle as he spoke the question in Spanish. He watched her closely, a soft smile on his face as he waited for her answer. Liv’s eyes lit up with excitement, sparkling as she eagerly nodded, her enthusiasm clear.

Solange’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her expression curious. “¿Tu güerita entiende español?” (Your güerita understands spanish?) she asked, clearly taken aback. It was rare for her to see someone outside their community who not only understood but appreciated the language and culture.

Liv gave a gentle smile, her cheeks flushed with pride as she responded, "Y puedo hablarlo,” (And I can speak it) she said smoothly in Spanish, her tone warm as she glanced up at Dominik. “Todo gracias a este hombre guapo que es mío,” (It's all thanks to this handsome man that's mine.) she added with a playful grin, nudging Dominik lightly.

Solange’s surprise melted into delight, her hands coming together in an excited clap. “¡Mira nada más!” she exclaimed, clearly pleased by this unexpected twist. Dominik couldn’t hide the pride that beamed from his face, his grin wide and unrestrained. He loved seeing Liv connect with this part of his life, and her efforts to learn Spanish always made his heart swell.

“Dame dos combos de tacos de birria,” (Give me two combos of birria tacos.) Dominik said, turning back to Solange, his voice carrying the easy confidence of someone who felt right at home. Solange nodded, her smile lingering as she turned to start their order. “Muy bien, sólo siéntense allá y espérenme,” (Alright, just sit over there and wait for me.) she instructed, gesturing to a nearby table where they could wait for their food.

Liv and Dominik nodded in unison, thanking Solange before making their way over to the small picnic table under the shade of a tree. They sat side by side, enjoying the warm afternoon and the hum of life around them, their hands casually brushing against each other. The anticipation of the meal made everything feel even more special.

Soon enough, Solange appeared with their order, balancing two steaming plates of birria tacos, their aroma rich and mouthwatering. She handed over the plates with a warm smile, but before she turned to leave, she leaned in close to Liv, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Le gustas mucho, de verdad,” (he really likes you) she murmured, her eyes twinkling.

Liv felt her heart skip a beat, a warm glow spreading through her chest at Solange’s words. She looked up at the woman, her own smile growing soft and grateful. “Gracias,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible over the bustling sounds around them. As Solange walked away, Liv turned back to Dominik, their eyes meeting in a shared moment of unspoken understanding, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Dominik had never been the type to take selfies or pictures; he always found himself more comfortable behind the scenes, appreciating life without the lens. But ever since Liv came into his life, something shifted. There was a new warmth in the ordinary moments they shared, a kind of magic he suddenly wanted to capture and hold onto. So, slowly, he grew fond of pulling out his phone to freeze those little memories in time.

As Liv took her first eager bite into one of the birria tacos, her eyes closed in delight, savoring the rich flavor and the warmth of the tortilla against her lips. Dominik couldn’t resist the urge. He pulled out his phone, positioning the camera just right, and snapped a quick picture of her, the taco halfway to her mouth, her expression full of pure, unfiltered joy. A small smear of sauce clung to the corner of her lips, and she looked radiant, glowing in the golden light filtering through the trees.

He took another shot, this time framing their wrists together, their matching yin and yang tattoos catching the sunlight. The contrast between his darker, inked skin and her softer, lighter tone made the design stand out even more, their wrists pressed together in a perfect symbol of their connection. The tattoos shimmered faintly under the sunlight, the freshly inked lines still bold against their skin. He knew that years from now, he would look back at this picture and remember how this simple moment, sitting together at a taco truck, had meant everything.

Liv noticed the click of the camera and turned towards him, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “You’re so obsessed with me,” she teased, her voice light but her eyes holding a knowing warmth. She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture soft and casual.

Dominik looked up from his phone, catching her gaze, and without missing a beat, he nodded with a grin that reached his eyes. “Always,” he replied, his voice sincere, the word holding a weight that went beyond the joke. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, but not before taking a moment to admire the pictures he had just taken. The sight of her, happy and unguarded, was something he knew he’d cherish long after the tacos were gone and the day had faded into memory.

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whyareyoulookingatmelikethat · 3 months ago

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[9]: Lights, Camera, Toons!

9th story!!! 10 soon~ This is a request for “KyoufuGaaden”! Thank you so much for requesting! :D

I was just trying to think of ideas and then I was like “Well, Vee and Scraps were the main characters in the game show…we could do that. But they were filming so what if this was a movie? And what if…you were a backstage person? And what if…YOU WERE THE COSTUME DESIGNER WHO MADE ALL THE NEW SKINS?”

I SWEAR my brain EXPLODED WITH HOW MANY IDEAS I HAD. (Human reader as you're much taller than them)

“And…there!”

You finished adjusting the sparkling purple cape on Vee’s shoulders and turned her around to tie it.

“You look great.”

Walking over to the mirror, she smirked at herself and nodded her head appreciatively.

“I do! Thank you.”

“No problem! Now you’d better get out for your show! I’ll take care of the others. I already gave Dandy his costume, so Scraps should be the only one left.”

Vee’s face visibly darkened at the mention of the paper craft toon, but she said nothing. It was funny to see her screen react, though.

“Vee…”

“I know! I know. Don’t hold grudges…”

You let out a sigh and turned back to the dresser to pull out the neatly folded dress.

“I still don’t completely understand why you rig the game shows, but it’s not my business. Nonetheless, let it go, Vee. Be happy for her. She happened to be really lucky.”

You heard a grumble in response to your positive words, and you turned around with the pastel clothes to look back at Vee. Her arms were crossed and she stared at the floor with a scowl. You deadpanned.

“Vee…”

She just ignored you. You kneeled down to look her in the eyes, waving your hand in front of her face.

“Vee.”

“...What?”

“Do you really want to be seen as childish, or are you strong enough to be mature?”

Her eyes widened for a second, but she quickly maintained her composure.

“I- I am not childish! Do not call me that! I am a gameshow host, responsible for the downfall or uprise of my participants. I hold power!”

You chuckled and stood up again to walk over and tie a blue ribbon into a bow for Scraps’ costume. You turned it over in your hands, making sure it looked perfect before you set the whole costume out. Taking the paper cup, you grabbed a white marker and drew dots on it to finish the look.

“So? What do you think Vee?”

…

“The costume is nice, but it’ll look stupid on her.”

“Vee!”

She scurried away faster than you could think of some way to scold her. You let out a long sigh and set the now fully marked cup down.

You swear it was a maze in here with all these racks of clothes…Making your way to the door, you pushed it open and turned a corner to walk down the hallway of rooms. U-001…C-002…Ah! R-004 and R-005!

You rapped on the door, then stood back and waited patiently for one of the two siblings to open it. The toons are so short compared to you, honestly. You had to look down at Scraps as she opened the door.

“Yes? Oh! Hey Y/n!”

“Your costume’s ready, Scraps.”

The gasp she let out and the way she clapped her hands with a bright smile on her face was adorable, and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling along with her.

“Come on, let’s get back to the dressing room.”

…

“Andddddd this is your outfit! What do you think? …Is it okay?”

“It’s not okay.”

You heard your heart stop.

“IT’S AMAZING!”

...And it started beating again. Faster this time.

“Just look at it! Oh my gosh, you’re amazing Y/n!”

“Aw shucks, well I-HURK!”

She instantly pulled you into the most bone-crushing hug you’ve ever had, and then ran off to the changing rooms giggling all the way.

…

You think your ribs are broken…

#dandys world #dandys world x reader #scraps x reader #vee x reader

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slippinninque · 3 months ago

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🍂Jatemme Manning x Blackfemreader🍁

In which Jatemme wants to hear you smile.

Warnings: fluff! Comfort! At work post, may be a few mistakes but I'll edit later!

You walked further into your cubicle, briefly taken aback by the cascades of oranges-reds-whites and browns bursting from your desk.

Monday was hard enough but after such a busy weekend tending to life's measures, you felt as if you had no break away from the grind before you were clocking back in again.

Here is was the last 15 or so days of the month and you haven't done a thing to celebrate....

You fussed to your man a bit but decided that it was best to just trudge through as normal. It sucked that October was the highlight of your year as a child but now that you've grown, business and life just didn't seem to make room for the autumnal wonder.

"That was here since this morning," Ida settled across from you at her own desk, eyes twinkling behind her glasses, "I wonder who's the culprit?"

You laughed a bit at her tease. You knew very well who it was and it was bold for his #1 partner in crime to pretend otherwise.

Your cubicle reminded you of a forgotten autumnal grove. Sparkling vases of dahlias, white and orange roses, purple and deep red pansies.

There were two baskets, one filled with ornate muffins and a wrapped apple fritter that filled the air with their pleasing, sweet scent. A candle that remained unlit and was surrounded by bath salts, bath bombs, and a pair of pumpkin patterned fuzzy socks you were tempted to slip into as soon as possible.

You pulled your chair from your desk and had to catch the thin bag seated there as it nearly toppled from your excitement. Inside was you're favorite wine and a familiar, slim container for another one of your favorite indulgence that you knew better than to pop open then and there.

The more you poked and prodded, the more you found. Handfuls of Hershey kisses, a pack of your favorite fruity gum, apple cider scented lip balm and hand lotions. There were even scented markers accenting the colorful sticky notes that would be perfect for your notes taking.

Your cell rang in your hand and with a quick glance at the clock, you took the call.

"You're entering the Olympic type of skill when it comes to surprising me," You smiled into the receiver as you settled down in your manmade heaven, "I don't even know what to say!"

"Sound like you're smiling, that's all I wanted to hear." Jatemme's voice carried the same tone, "Just wanted to let you know you got lunch coming, so don't get none of them nasty noodles--y'hear?"

Suddenly the day didn't seem so long or unfair as you felt your cheeks warm. "Yes, I hear you..."

"Mhmm. Still smiling. That's what I wanna hear." Jatemme praised softly, "I ain't gonna keep you, go do your thing and I'll see you at lunch. Yeah?"

"Yeah! I'll be waiting for you..."

"I'll be waiting for you too, baby."

Uncaring of the prying eyes, you angled the receiver to your mouth so Jatemme could hear all the kisses you were blowing his way. You only stopped when you hear him laugh and shoo you away from the phone.

"Keep it up and Imma come up there and get those in person, fuck them. They can't keep me out."

"No one said they could but I'll let you go since you're getting riled up."

Finally disconnecting the call, you held your cheeks as you looked around you. Heaven. You felt so loved.

Your cheeks were already starting to ache from how you grinned, looking though the splendor left for you. Others from the office meandered by as if fulfilling tasks but you met many a wandering eye through the petals and stems curling over you.

It felt silly to think of it like that, but it felt like Jatemme was right there with you. Evidence of his care wiped away all the weepy feelings that came with Monday.

Feeling stronger, you pulled up your database and cracked your knuckles. Looking over your treats and picking up a Hershey, you popped the morsel into your mouth and used the foil to block the time on the clock.

You were going to knock out these little hours with no problem at all....

----------

✨Ending notes✨: a little sweet for Monday!💖💕✨ Ive been feeling fluffy lately and I don't think I shower Jatemme any fluff love!🥹 More coming, promise ya that! 💕✨💜✨

💕Tag list💕: @cocochannelmoi @hunnishive @last-lost-one @yasminsqueendom @flydotty

@kindofaintrovert @satoruya @harmshake @miyuhpapayuh @ms-angiealsina

@megamindsecretlair @blowmymbackout @thadelightfulone @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sageispunk

#jatemme manning x blackfemreader #jatemme manning #jatemme manning x black reader #jatemme manning fic #Widows fic #daniel kaluuya

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sprout-senior · 8 months ago

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this is. so fucking stupid

i put way too much effort into this

edit: picture formatting

transcription/image ID and more under the cut

[panel one: Error is looking at blue, who is in the foreground about to eat a brownie with a very wide open mouth, with horror. his hands are on either side of his head.]

Error: oh no! Blue’s gonna eat that WEED BROWNIE!

[panel two: Error eats the brownie, accompanied by the word CHOMP. Blue watches with surprise.]

[panel three: Blue is grinning, while Error looks very distressed, holding his hands in front of him.]

Blue: wow Error! did you just eat my forever weed brownie? [the words forever weed brownie are in green.]

Error: it was the only way to-

[Error cuts himself off, and the next panel displays him looking like a photorealistic skeleton, a vast contrast from the extremely round and simplistic style of the previous panels.]

Error: w h a t [the word what, spaced out for dramatic effect]

[end comic transcription]

anyway yeah i’m getting back into traditional art at least for the time being since i can’t find my damn stylus. this is the first page in my new sketchbook

[image ID: a sketchbook page, featuring several doodles. in the top left, there is a cute bunny man holding up a peace sign, winking, and smiling with his mouth open. he is on a neon orange background, drawn with purple ballpoint pen, with the caption “WAOW!”. next to this, in the top right, is a simplistic drawing of a lavender bush, colored with bright purple and green markers. below the bunny man are three small doodles of various expressions. one looks concerned and a little disgusted, captioned “yeesh”. the second is a somewhat curious looking one with its eyes popping out of its head, captioned “idk”. the third and final expression is a top down view of a face with very large sparkling eyes, captioned “forced to eat cement at age six”. the bottom half of the page features the comic transcribed above, with numbers and arrows clarifying the order of events. end sketchbook page transcription]

one final block of text to round out the post: i’m doing image descriptions/transcriptions now! i gave up on alt text a while ago, because it was such a pain to format and difficult to work with for me, and i forgot that i have free will and can type that information in the actual post. please let me know how i did! accessibility is important to me, so if my descriptions are lacking in any way or could stand to be improved, i would so so appreciate it if you could tell me what to do to improve! thanks!

#utmv #undertale au #utmv art #error sans #swap sans #blueberry sans #error sans art #swap sans art #blueberry sans art #tagging blue as blueberry bc he kinda looks like him in this style #sprouts sketches

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dirtywresling102 · 2 years ago

Note

This is me projecting for sure, but can I request a female reader x Hook? She meets him at a convention meet and greet and he ends up being really into her. Feel like this is kinda cliche but I’m supposed to meet him in two weeks so I am projecting/lowkey manifesting👀 😂😭

Pairing: Hook x Female!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Meet and Greets

Imagine Requests: Open!

Note: YOU'RE MEETING HOOK!? Ugh lucky! I just met Brian Cage a 2 weeks ago! Ugh I hope to meet Hook one day! I hope you have fun!

Follow My Main Blog!: @dirtywrestling

Your stomach clenched tighter as you saw Hook's fluffy brown hair in view. You bit your lip to see him looking up at the person in front of him and smile. His smile melted your heart in way you never thought someone could. You grew even more nervous as you realized you were the next person in line to speak with him.

It seemed like your legs were becoming wobbly with each step you took. Watching the person in front of you leave in excitement you looked at Hook to see he was already looking at you with a large smile. "Hi!" He greeted.

"H- Hello." You gushed, walking up to the table. You handed him a piece of paper with a drawing on it of him.

"Holy shit, is this me!" His eyes sparkled as he admire the art work.

"Yeah, I uh have been working on it for awhile." You blushed as he grew excited over your work.

"This is amazing." Hook's eyes never left the paper as he grabbed a marker. "Who can I make this out to?" He popped off the lid.

"Y/N." You said sheepishly, biting your lip as you watched him autograph the drawing. "I'm a big fan of you." You finally admitted.

"And I'm a big fan of you as well." Hook gave your art piece one last look before handing it to you. "Do you post on Instagram?"

"Of my work? Daily." You smiled, carefully grabbing the sheet, making sure not to ruin it.

"Well, how about I give you a follow so I can see all your amazing art work?"

You stared at him in disbelief. "R- Really?" You fumbled to grab your phone, looking up your Instagram username. "Here, it's this." You showed him your profile picture as he pulled out his phone with a smile and put in your account.

"And, followed."

You looked at your screen to see Hook was officially following you.

"Come on, can't leave without a picture." Hook stood up from his chair as you made your way around the table, he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you tight, smiling towards the camera. Once the flash went off me whispered in your ear. "I'll text you later."

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dreamersbcll · 1 year ago

Text

Atlas

carry your world, i’ll carry your world

for @krikeymate

—————————————————————————-

“Hey, Helena? Another round,” Sam called, tapping on her glass.

Her favorite bartender put down the glass she was drying and rolled her eyes. “Already, Sam? I just refilled you five minutes ago. I’m starting to think you have a problem,” she teased, pouring another glass.

Sam shrugged. “You know me. The addict with a problem. That’s a groundbreaking theory, Dr. H,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Helena rolled her eyes. “I’ll be a doctor one day, jackass.”

Before Sam could retort, she stopped, puzzled at the person carrying a massive case of beer. This new girl clearly wasn’t strong enough, tottering on her feet, switching her grip on the box every few seconds.

Taking a sip of her tequila, Sam tosses a napkin at Helena. The girl turns around, chucking the paper back at Sam.

Giggling, Sam holds her hands up, surrendering. “Sorry. Anyways, who’s that?”

Helena follows Sam’s (rudely) pointed finger, smiling at the girl struggling to put down the case of beer. Ah. Newbies.

The girl reaches over and pulls the newbie in, ignoring how the case of beer rattled as she knocked into it. “Oh, who’s this? Sam, this is the kid. This kid’s new. Say hi, Shelby,” she crows, squeezing the kid’s cheeks.

Sam smiled wide. It’s been a while since someone’s moved to this town. Ever since all the massacres, Woodsboro has seen a slow wave of tourists. It’s good to know that someone stayed.

She held out her hand, grinning. “Hey, I’m Sam, local guide and historian.”

Shelby sheepishly waved, her cheeks turning red at all the attention. “Hi, Sam.”

Grinning at Shelby’s awkwardness, Helena leaned on the bar, her chin resting in her palms. She looked over at the talkative Carpenter sister and sighed. Sam hadn’t been sleeping well since Tara left. It was evident due to how chatty she was. But it was good to know the girl was still alive.

“What’s the story tonight, Sam?” Helena interrupted, trying to get the older girl's attention.

Without skipping a beat, Sam answered. “Tara loves trivia. Trivia nights, especially. I’m thinking of bringing her to one once she returns from school. Spring Break is soon, anyways,” she mused, closing her eyes.

She allowed herself to sink into the memory, grinning as she saw Tara’s smile again.

——-

“Guatemala!”

Sam threw her head back, laughing. Tara was on a hot streak, firing off answers left and right. The craziest part? She was right about every single one. Her seven-year-old sister was such a genius. Such a good reader.

It was kids trivia night at O’Malley’s bar and grill, and though Sam was freshly thirteen years old, they still let the Carpenter sisters have a table of their own. The townspeople all knew about the neglected girls. It was tough to help in such a delicate situation, so they helped by making the girl’s lives easier. Complimentary tables and turning a blind eye to the food they stole were the people’s way of helping.

Sam knew they were looking the other way, but for Tara, it was magical that they could do these things. They were the royalty of Woodsboro. And Sam was okay with letting her believe that.

Trivia night, for one. Tara was an avid reader, always with a nose in a book. Lately, it’s been all the encyclopedias, all the knowledge in books with millions of pages. Sam had no idea how quickly she got through them and remembered everything well. Part of her thinks she should call the Guinness World Record people. Perhaps they could make money off of her brain.

Tara elbowed Sam. “Sam, how do you spell photosynthesis?” she whispered, her words whistling through missing teeth.

Sam took the dry-erase marker from her sister and wrote the word on the board. The minute she finished, Tara gleefully snatched the board and held it up.

“Photosynthesis!” she shouted

Another point for the sisters. Sam was just the glorified scribe, only answering questions on movies and television. She was never the avid reader Tara was, but she watched plenty of novellas and movies to keep them in first place.

As the host asked another question, Sam turned and watched Tara lean in, smiling as her little sister’s brow furrowed in concentration. She loved that face. She loved her little sister. She was all Sam ever needed.

She eventually had to watch the host after Tara caught her big sister staring at her again.

“Focus, Sammy. We can’t lose to the Meeks-Martins,” she hissed, pointing to the table of twins, who were grinning devilishly at the sisters.

Tara was right. She needed to focus. That chocolate basket could not go to Chad- he was dairy intolerant.

And Sam got to rub it in his face, smiling smugly as she and Tara tore into the Hershey kisses.

——

Helena watches Sam leave through the door, her previously happy resolve breaking. Fuck. It was getting worse.

There wasn’t much she could do, so she returned to cleaning the bar, wiping down the sticky countertops. Shelby was collecting glasses on a tray, a frown on her face.

God. Helena just wanted to go home. It was 3 a.m., and they weren’t done yet. But to get going faster, she had to ask the question to everyone who wondered about Sam Carpenter.

She collected her thoughts, breathing out. “What’s up, kid?”

Shelby looked at her, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I recognized her. Isn't she the one involved in the massacre?”

Sighing, Helena sat down her damp rag. Here she goes. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Puzzled, the girl tilted her head. “But isn’t the sister dead? She died in that second attack in Stu Macher’s house, right?” she asked, her voice trailing off.

Helena shook her head. Jesus. Shelby still wasn’t getting it. She smacked her hand on the table, ignoring how the girl flinched at the noise. She had to get this kid to understand so she didn’t ruin it. It was crucial to all the townspeople not to destroy this.

“Look, kid. You’re right. But Sam’s really messed up over it still. She still believes that Tara is alive and that she’s just away at college,” she said, her voice strangled. God. She hasn’t had this conversation in a while.

She ran a hand through her hair. “But Tara isn’t; she’s been dead for two years. So Sam comes at night and retells stories about her sister because she thinks Tara will be home soon one day,” she pauses, collecting her words. “Sam just couldn’t handle the fact that she lost Tara again.”

The girl sniffled, tears running down her face. “Again?” she says incredulously, wiping her eyes.

Helena chuckled sadly. “Before alcoholism, Sam was an addict. But that's another story for another day. Go wipe down the back bar,” she ordered, turning away from the sad-eyed girl.

Shelby scampered away, sniffling loudly. Once Helena could no longer hear her footsteps, she turned around and continued to wipe down the stools. Though she didn’t know Sam very well, it was still a brutal story to tell.

Especially since the Carpenter’s mother sat in the same seat Sam did, but in the morning. It was easier for the seasoned alcoholic to drink at ten a.m., while Sam chose the evening shift.

It was excruciating watching history repeat itself. But there wasn’t much Helena could do about it. Her job was to serve her patrons.

And that’s what she did.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #ao3 author #AU: go with grace #kai came up with this #i love them your honor

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