#maybe even a splash of color who knows

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Yandere farm x farmhand reader 🌾

A/n: this contains few nsfw mentions, mdni please! They're not all that yandere, just a bunch of dumb silly hybrids trying to catch their favorite humans attention. This is their intro

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙

★yandere farm x farmhand reader. I know this isn't original, but I always love the concept. Just minding your business, sweaty and hot from the sun, when suddenly a certain German Shepard hybrid starts sniffing you up and down, lapping up your sweaty skin and grinning when you swat him away. How did you end up here?

★maybe you came here for a summer job, maybe some relatives owned the farm, maybe you were always working here. Either way, it doesn't take long for the hybrids to notice you once you arrive.

★the bulls and cows watching curiously from the fields, the centaurs trying to peek from their stables, the merfolk living in the lake just down the property poke their little heads out. The dogs barking from their Little homes, and the cats watching from the windows. You couldn't help but gawk at the variety of hybrids, there were so many! Merfolk, avians, cattle, cats, dogs.

★your first week there was nice, the other farmhands were nice, and the owners were so sweet! Always speaking fondly of their pets, the old couple would watch them run in the field or play by the lake. You yourself found them a little annoying. Always sniffing, grabbing, nipping at your clothes. You've had to fight your overall bottoms free from one of the pooches one too many times. The cats were no better.

★your second week you meet the cattle and centaurs. And unlike the house cats and guard dogs, they're less handsy. Simply observing from afar. Occasionally sniffing you before nodding their heads and pulling away. Letting you do your job of combing, cleaning and fixing up them and their stables. The cattle would happily let you milk them, applying the breast pumps to the females and a cock pump to the males. You ignored how they looked at you strangely during milkings

★the third week you meet the avians. Odd little bunch, hopping around and puffing up their chests. They watched you enter their enclosure curiously, you were busy picking up their molten feathers because you thought they were pretty. So bright and colorful! Walking around bent over a little when you finally notice the peacock male standing right Infront of you. He gave you a pointed look before his tail feathers expanded. Looking prideful, tilting his chin up as if in an arrogant way. Swaying side to side and closer to you, while you just held the feathers in your hands, a little confused. He got closer until he let out an incredibly loud squawk. Turning around abruptly to glare at the cuckoo who bent down to poke his butt. The cuckoo gave you a grin before climbing back up the tree, using this time as distraction, you quickly escaped.

★on the fourth week, you meet the merfolk. Having been here a month, they were eager to meet you. Watching you walk on the dock with fish feed, eagerly Perking up and swimming closer. You shook out a good handful and chucked it out for the koi fish to eat. They swarmed the area until all the food was gone, simply staring up at you. One poked her head out, tilting it a bit and making a 'click' sound with her tongue. You mimicked her, doing the same. She seemed elated, making various whistles and clicks, splashing up and down the lake. The lake was manmade and filled with koi fish when it was finished, but then again there may be more fish not even the owners know about since it was so deep. How'd they get in there? You're not sure, but you just know it.

★on the fifth week your owners told you about how they had bought multiple sheep, and goats. One male for each group. Watching the loading truck approach the little barn they were finished building. So that's why it was there, they started construction when you arrived the first week. You helped the other farmhands get them situated, at first they were rowdy and a little aggressive but for some reason calmed down when you approached them. Your colleagues now called you the sheep whisperer. You quickly learned how to shave their wool and milk the goats properly. Sometimes braiding their long hair, you just wish the ram would stop headbutting the nearest male colleague for your attention.

★On your sixth week, you went for a walk in the forest when suddenly a little body of fluffy fur tackled you, growling with it's teeth barred. You looked up to see a Pomeranian hybrid, trying it's best to look intimidating. Their fluffy tail gave them away, it was wagging 100mph. They visibly deflated when you reached up a hand to pet them, letting you for A couple minutes before getting off. Walking back into the woods towards three wolves. Dissapearing with them. Not soon after you found a friendly garden naga. Just lounging on a rock and enjoying the sun. You asked to join and they let you, laying there for a good while until you had to go back to the farm. Noticing they had wrapped their tail around you, oh boy. It'll take a good while to get out. Welp, might as well make yourself comfortable and wait for the dogs to come find you

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

HYBRIDS AND THEIR NAMES:

Week one, cats and dogs;

Brutus, dog hybrid, 18, German Shepard, he/him

Dolly, dog hybrid, 26, doberman, she/her

bladviba, dog hybrid, 25, black Russian terrier, he/him

Molly, dog hybrid, 17, chow chow, she/her

Sweet pea, dog hybrid, 17, samoyed, they/them amab

bubba, dog hybrid, 37, borzoi, he/him

Princess, cat hybrid, 18, ragdoll, she/her

Prince, cat hybrid, 19, Norwegian forest cat, he/him

King, cat hybrid, 27, Khao manee, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Second week, cattle and centaurs;

Miss bené, cow hybrid, 49, white park cattle, she/her

Miss blackberry, cow hybrid, 22, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss Polly, cow hybrid, 26, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss frufru, cow hybrid, 28, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss Vivian, cow hybrid, 35, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Big daddy, bull hybrid, 52, Aberdeen Angus, he/him

Johnny, bull hybrid, 18, Aberdeen Angus/white park cattle, he/him

Jacqueline, centaur, 19, shire horse, she/her

Timothy, centaur, 21, galineers cob, he/him

maya, centaur, 17, fjord horse, they/them

Casper, centaur, 23, ardennais, he/him

miguel, centaur, 18, Andalusian horse, he/him

harmony, centaur, 25, Breton horse, they/them

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

third week, avians;

Sydney, avian, 22, cockatoo, they/he

Evangeline, avian, 19, peacock, she/her

Gabriel, avian, 20, peacock, he/him

fajarah, avian, 24, indian ring necked parakeet, she/her

Foolish, avian, 26, owl finch, he/him

simon, avian, 28, tyto alba, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Fourth week, merfok;

tancho, koi fish merfolk, 19, tancho koi, he/him

kiko, koi fish merfolk, 19, kikokuryu koi, she/her

hime, koi fish merfolk, 19, hirenaga koi, she/her

Tsu, koi fish merfolk, 19, doitsu koi, they/them

koromo, koi fish merfolk, 19, koromo koi, he/him

Mason, lake 'monster' (crocodile), 20, freshwater crocodile, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Fifth week, goats and sheep;

Sally, goat, 25, angora goat, she/her

Opal, goat, 24, Tennessee fainting goat, she/her

Sasha, goat, 26, australian cashmere goat, she/her

kim, ram, 23, dutch landrace goat, he/him

Poka, sheep, 19, Valais black nose, they/them

Juniper, sheep, Valais black nose, she/her

violet, sheep, 18, harri, she/her

azucar, sheep, 17, Columbia sheep, she/her

Wehrner, ram, 21, American black belly, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Sixth week, the forest creatures:

roxy, wolf hybrid, 19, grey wolf, she/her

Silas, wolf hybrid, 21, grey wolf, he/him

Milo, wolf hybrid, 20, albino Grey wolf, they/them

Kiki, dog hybrid, 18, Pomeranian, they/them

Coachella, naga, 27, garden snake, they/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[ddarker-dreams]

A Fool's Errand.

Yan Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, alcohol mention/consumption, not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“Now that’s a scary look.” 

Ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink, feigning an air of indifference. The warm pinks swirl in a hypnotizing display. Golden flecks catch the room’s sparse lighting, shimmering within the miniature whirlpool. 

You return your focus to the reflection in your pocket mirror. 

The countenance that greets you is both familiar and foreign. Color is infused into your lips, brushed along your cheeks, and blended atop your eyelids. It’d been a while since you had applied makeup, but the muscle memory kicked in eventually. After some touch-ups, you found the results satisfactory. From this vantage point, you can admire your décolleté, complemented by a dainty choker with a butterfly charm. 

You can also see a pair of eyes staring back at you. 

You clasp the mirror shut, wishing the shadowy apparition would disappear.

Instead, it creeps closer, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room. 

You sip your concoction. It’s tart, with a splash of sweetness that soon fades into a bitter aftertaste. A hazy warmth swaddles your mind in a tight embrace. 

Blade materializes beside you like a phantom coming to life. His presence is heavy and impossible to ignore, but you try your best. He’s frowning, almost glaring at you, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkled in displeasure. Your continued apathy does little to soothe the brewing tension. 

This time, it’s him who breaks the silence. 

“How much have you had to drink?”

“This is my third glass,” you admit. His eyebrows scrunch together. “I thought you’d come faster.” 

“If you anticipated your failure, why bother?” 

“I dunno. Curiosity? Boredom?” Your finger traces the drink’s rim. Suppressing a wicked smile, you add, “Maybe I wanted to find a date.” 

For a fleeting instant, it’s like the room’s oxygen rushed out at once, leaving you to asphyxiate. Your eyes tell a different story — nothing’s changed, at least, not physically — aside from his pupils shrinking to a pinprick’s size. Faintly, what remains of your cognition advises against poking the beast. You’ve already done enough. In the coming days, you’re likely to regret this entire escapade. 

However, your present self finds immense satisfaction in spewing petty jabs. 

“Be mindful of your tongue, girl.” 

Blade’s timbre is dark and gravelly. Shivers envelop your body, which you chase off with another hearty drink. His eyes follow your throat as you gulp the liquid down. They remain fixated there for an unnerving few seconds. Shifting around in your seat, it’s growing harder to deny the magnitude of who you’re dealing with. His suffocating favor doesn’t grant you absolute immunity. 

You try reaching for another sip, only for him to stop you. 

“That’s enough,” he says. His grip around your wrist tightens when you try wrenching it free. “We’re heading back.” 

Heading back. To the life of a fugitive, forever on the run, wreaking chaos wherever he and his band of clairvoyant criminals set foot. It isn’t an alluring prospect. This brief stint has been the longest you’ve gone without constant surveillance. Even if it’s a fleeting illusion, destined to slip through your fingers, you want to hold on just a bit longer. 

The alcohol flowing through your system further emboldens you. “You wanna end our date so fast?” 

This little provocation seemingly accomplishes the impossible — it throws Blade off guard. 

“‘Our?’” He repeats, the upward inflection uncharacteristic of his monotonous voice. 

“I was lookin’ for a date and you happened to come along, so yeah, why not?” You say it as if it’s the most obvious thing. He blinks. “What? Am I not pretty enough?” 

Blade’s lips part and close in rapid succession. He knows what you’re doing, you know that he knows what you’re doing, yet your flirtations still have a visible effect. His body’s gone stiff and his jaw’s set, like he’s concentrating greatly. You hear his leather glove creak as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Leaning onto the counter, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “You must not like me after all.” 

“That—” he exhales sharply, his subsequent words coming out in a low, measured drawl, “... You have until you finish your drink.” 

While your mind slowly processes this information, he pulls out a barstool and sits beside you. You can tell he’s still disgruntled, yet you’ve established a temporary truce. For all the brutality he’s capable of, he's willingly domesticated the instant you offer a piece of yourself. A guard dog who requires no leash, for leaving your side is unthinkable. 

This is what���s doomed you and posed as your salvation. 

You break eye contact. 

Outside, you hear the whirr of traffic through the bar’s thin walls. You’d already forgotten the name of the planet you’re visiting. It’s indistinguishable from most IPC-infected civilizations — intrusive advertisements carved in the night sky and menial work for the masses, who will never climb as high as they wish. The Stellaron Hunter’s prolonged presence is an ill omen for the oblivious populace. 

If you asked, Blade would tell you what they’re doing here and what will become of the inhabitants.

These days, you find it’s best not to know. 

“Why didn’t you try dating me, anyway?” You ask. An ice cube begins melting into the drink, losing itself. “I’ve always wondered about that. Who knows? I may have fallen head over heels for you.” 

His answer comes surprisingly fast, slicing through the air like his weapon of choice. “I am not the sort of man you should be with.” 

You whip your head in his direction, utterly dumbfounded. “Huh?” 

“What you deserve… I can never give,” Blade’s eyes betray nothing of his inner thoughts. “It’s best that you never believed otherwise.” 

The universe’s momentum slows to a crawl. You sit up straight, ignoring the wave of dizziness the abrupt motion inflicts, scrutinizing his visage. Dull emotions attempt to burst the pleasant buzz you've cocooned in. Their sharp edges push and push, testing the material’s durability. The lights flicker, unwilling to cast him in permanent light. 

“If you care enough to consider all that, then why—” 

Why rob me of normalcy? 

Why take what made me into the person I am? 

Why deprive me of my life to make what’s left of yours better?

He lets you down what remains of your drink. It burns as it travels down your tightening throat, washing away any playfulness that lingered on your tongue. Your stomach turns in on itself. Still, you lap up every drop, chasing after a numbness that can’t outweigh the grief. The act of pulling the glass away proves overwhelming for your frazzled brain. You sway, temporarily stupefied. 

The cold leather of one hand and textured gauze from another steady your shoulders, keeping your body in place. 

“Careful. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s it matter? Seeing me in pain obviously means nothin’ to you.” 

He pauses, considering a response you’ll never be privy to, as he keeps his lips shut. Instead, he asks, “Can you walk?” 

This questioning of your motor functions has you scoffing. Wordlessly, you hop to the ground, where you stay still, intent on keeping yourself steady. Despite your best efforts, your surroundings spin ever so slightly. The minimalist furniture of this automaton-run establishment blurs together. Heat flushes throughout your body, warming your cheeks like an internal furnace. 

You overestimated your tolerance. It’s been a while since you’ve indulged — you should’ve considered that. 

Your weak performance confirms Blade’s suspicions. He approaches you, raising his hands, likely to keep you secure like he had before. You dodge his unwanted advances out of reflex. This proves to be a mistake, as you lack the coordination to make any sharp movements. Your ankle gives out and your eyes fly wide open, arms flailing about for purchase. 

Blade moves faster than you can process. You’re made to feel weightless as he lifts you up, holding you firm against his chest. 

“Hey, put me down! I don’t— I can walk just fine!” You exclaim, writhing around like a fish out of water. Exerting a mere fraction of his strength is enough to render your struggle useless. Realizing that all you’re doing is tiring yourself out, you go limp, your breathing coming out erratic from the exertion. Humiliation prickles throughout like hot needles waiting to erupt from your flesh.

“Are you finished?” 

You’re close enough to feel the low vibration of his voice. It rattles your bones, burrowing deep within the marrow. You express your resignation by averting your gaze. With that, he walks out, holding you in a bridal carry. Cool air nips at your exposed skin as he kicks the door open. It lets out into a back alley, where he must’ve skulked in from. 

He stops here and gingerly places you down, muttering, “Lean against the wall.” 

You do as instructed, though given your impaired state, you would’ve fumbled around for support without his prompting. He sheds his outer black jacket and drapes it along your bare shoulders. The fabric engulfs you, smelling faintly metallic. After ensuring you’re properly covered, he scoops you back up, maneuvering your body around like it’s weightless. 

He follows the labyrinth-like expanse of alleyways, leaving the sounds and sights of the densely populated area behind. Not a word is uttered or a glance shared. You wet your lips, your mind racing for ways to break the tense silence. Blade’s always been a man of a few words, but this bout is different than what you’re used to. Heavier, somehow. Your actions have gone beyond petty defiance. Typically, you can gauge what nonsense you can and can’t get away with. 

With this latest excursion, however—

—You’ve stumbled into uncharted territory. 

“What now?” You ask, your voice unusually meek. 

“You’ll be leaving this star system before long. We’re headed towards the pickup site.” 

Your ears perk up at his word choice. “You aren’t coming?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’ve yet to fulfill my portion of the script on this planet.” 

“... Oh.” 

You can feel the look he sends your way. 

“Does this displease you?” 

“Ah, well,” you take a deep breath, finding the act of verbalizing your thoughts in this state difficult, “I didn’t think you… liked being apart.” 

“My preferences are irrelevant. Kafka will ensure you’re cared for until I’m suited to be around you again.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, parsing through this information bit by bit. It’s like your mental faculties have been slathered with tar, slowing the gears in the mire. You’re only ever stuck with Kafka when Blade’s regenerating from significant injuries or dangerously mara-struck. You reflect on the evening’s events. The ease at which you snuck out, how it felt like the universe itself aligned along the way… 

Ah. 

You’re the ideal variable to tamper with when increasing (or decreasing) his mara. 

It’s a gross feeling — this sensation of being used like a pawn to affect the performance of the board’s stronger pieces. Perhaps the inevitably of it all is why he isn’t upset with you, or he might be trying to delay the onslaught of mara. Whatever the case, you’ve inadvertently done your part for this script. Stirring the sediments of his shortcomings and shoving your dislike of him to the forefront. 

Is this all you are? A side character in the epic Destiny’s Slave has penned? 

You grit your teeth. 

Using what little strength’s left in your muscles, you sit up, slinking your arms around his neck for support. Blade pauses, clearly more interested in your machinations than dropping you off like a package. He turns to face you. Though you’re nearly nose to nose, the night obscures his features, save for his eyes. The two blood-red moons have an otherworldly glow to them. Their gravitational pull is dangerous, yet you approach them as a willing sacrifice regardless. 

A gentle graze of your lips against his is enough for him to stop breathing. You can do what his mountains of deceased enemies gave their lives trying to accomplish. He must know you’re up to something; his grip is nearly bruising from the restraint he’s exercising. You test his fraying resolve by allowing your lips to connect. It’s purposefully brief, ending before it truly began. Upon pulling away, he chases after you, but you deny him.

Blade sounds pained when murmuring your name. 

Whether it’s a plea or a warning, you can’t tell. 

“What?” You ask. “You’re the one trying to get rid of me.” 

“...” 

Blade leers down at you. You meet his stare, unyielding, drunk on the idea of inconveniencing the Stellaron Hunters to any extent.

"... Stay still," he eventually orders, backing you against the alley's wall. "Time is short."

You wait until he's nipping at your neck to smile.

[angelltheninth]

Alien Needs

Pairing: Miles Quaritch x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, mating cycle, size difference, rough sex, tail shenanigans, alien anatomy, size kink, being manhandled, dirty talk, creampie, blowjob, titfucking, fingering, breeding kink

Word count: 2.6k

Ao3

A/N: The Avatar movies really awakened everyone's inner alien fucker.

Quaritch wasn't someone to just vanish without a trace, not one to hide away when he comes across a problem, and certainly not the one to leave others to speak for him. It made no sense that you were speaking to your fellow scientists right now instead of him.

"And why exactly can't I see him? I'm his girlfriend, if there's something wrong I should be the first to know." You knew where he was, just down the hall, just a little more and you'd get to find out what's been happening.

If only this idiot moved, "I understand that ma'am. However the Colonel is going through some... unexpected side effects of having an Avatar. Nothing dangerous I assure you, it just might be best for him, and for you to leave him alone for now."

"I'm going to talk to him, thank you very much." You walked right past the man, leaving him a little flabbergasted before he tried to stop you.

"But ma'am, he's really-" His words died on his lips when you shot him a glare sharper then any knife, "The room is unmonitored as per the Colonel's request, so please signal us if you need anything." He straightened up and saluted you, his face a few shades paler then before.

You marched up Quaritch's door and pressed the button to slide them open. The sight wasn't that uncommon actually, other then the room being a complete mess, his bed more then anything else. But otherwise seeing him pace back and forth, looking deep in thought wasn't that odd.

His shoulders tensed when you stepped inside, followed by his entire body as he spun around, his face contorted in a snarl, muscles bulging as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Didn't they tell ya to stay out of 'ere?" He didn't sound quite like himself, more raspy, deeper, like he'd been screaming for hours. Based on the state of the room and the amount of sweat that he was covered in maybe he has.

"They did. I wanted to hear it from you. There's something wrong isn't there, with you Avatar?" You locked the door behind you, isolating the two of you from the world outside. You didn't particularly like spending a lot of time in here, it seemed so barren, too white, with the only dashes of color being from the window, the clothes and of course Quaritch himself, who was currently a very big splash of color seeing as he was only wearing loose witting combat pants.

You noticed that there was no belt and that the buttons were completely undone. Something must be really wrong if he couldn't even be bothered to get dressed right.

"It's natural apparently. For the Na'vi, so they said there's nothing ta worry about. Still I feel like if I was warned of a god damned mating cycle I might have reconsidered this whole thing." He snickered and ran his hand down his face and chin. "They never tell ya everything it seems like."

"M-Mating cycle?" You blinked slowly at him, letting his words sink in. "When did that start?"

"Bout three days go I think. Been feeling extra horny for a bout a week though. Now it's like-" He growled in frustration, "Fuckn' annoying as hell. No matter how much I yank it I just can't seem to calm down." There wasn't an ounce of shame in his words. Not to your surprise, he's been like that since you met him.

You bit you lip as you imagined him crouching down on his bed, pumping his cock in his hand without it going soft at all. Quaritch inhaled sharply, his pupils narrowing. You felt small under his gaze, you were small, half his size now, but this made you feel like you were his favorite food on display and he was gonna pounce on you any moment now.

"There anything I can do to help?"

"Help? Ya wanna help me with this? Look at me!" With no hesitation he pushed his pants down to reveal his cock. He was easily the size of your forearm, with the bulging deep blue head leaking with copious amounts of white cum. You can't even imagine what the inside of his pants looks like right now, "We're not compatible right now sweetheart."

Fuck. You could maybe, maybe take half of him. And that is a big maybe. Anything else would be dangerous. But by god did you want to see how far you could push that cock, how much of it would fit inside you, how it would fill you up.

"Why don't we give it a try? I've got more then one hole you know?" You beckoned him in a soft, sultry voice, your jacket and shirt abandoned on the floor, followed by you unzipping your skirt and clicking off your heels, coming to stand before him in your black underwear, his cock ending almost at the same height as your mouth. The perfect height.

"I am intimately aware of that fact. Ya could barely take two of my fingers last week, ya really think you can handle me now?" He towered over you, his eyes shining even in the brightly lit room. "I will break ya." He hissed with a hint of a smile. His thumb pushed into your mouth and you could taste the faint hint of his cum, it tasted different than a human's, stronger, but not overwhelming. "Ya really wanna do this? I can't guarantee I'll be able ta hold back, I can barely hold back now."

"You forget that I'm a scientist too, this could be an interesting experience, I could learn a lot." You placed both hands one behind the other on his thick cock, following the throbbing deep purple vein up and down.

"Volunteering yerself for it, yer a slut for science aren't ya?" Quaritch purred as you ran your hand up, down and around his cock, making sure to leave no spot unattended for long, "No, yer my slut now. Ya can have all the fancy diplomas ya want but the only thing yer good for is being a fuckhole for me."

Usually he only descended into dirty talk when he was beyond horny for your pussy, which must mean that he'd been like this for quite a while as he said. "I'm here to take care of you. That's my job. So I'm merely doing my duty."

"Not yet ya ain't." His hand could crush your skull if he applied enough force yet he only used enough to move your head to the big tip. You could barely get him past the head before your gag reflex hit. Lucky for you it was sensitive just like a human's so you could focus your mouth and tongue on it while making up for the rest with your hands.

Quaritch hummed in approval as you swiped his cum in your mouth with much gusto. This was an adjustment for him as well, had all these new instincts that he had no idea what to do with, how to properly manage them, especially ones like these. He was happy you were helping, even if he wasn't the greatest with words you could see it in his eyes. His nearly predatory looking eyes.

You pushed closer to him, pressing his cock between your boobs, the white spilling onto them, he was like an endless fountain of cum. He could probably paint you completely white with it. The thought was making a stain on your panties, urging you to bob your head faster, lick at the slit at the tip and make him tremble.

"Enough. Won't waste anymore seed." He growled, "Fuck. Why do I wanna... shit... gotta breed ya sweetheart. Breed ya good." He tilted and held you back by your hair, your mouth and chin stained with thick cum, "Gotta make ya ready."

He ushered you along to the bed and let you lay down after which he crawled toward you like a lion to it's prey, his toothy smirk matching.

"Show me my prize." His breath tickled your stomach as he kissed his way down stomach. He made short, almost no work of your underwear, tearing them to shreds in a blink of an eye. He smirked looking at the wetness pooling between your legs and seeping onto the sheets, mixing with the drops of his cum. "One or two?"

"One please." Two would be too much at once, you tried before when he bend you over in the med bay and it fucking hurt. Something light and fluffy tickled your pussy lips, followed by a smooth, firm press over your clit. You looked down to see Quaritch moving his tail over your cunt.

"Learned a few new tricks. Turns out this thing has plenty of uses." He leered at you smugly, circling his middle finger around your entrance. His tail lightly slapped on your clit right as he pushed his finger inside. "Way too tight. Need ta stretch ya out more first."

You nodded along, spreading your legs in response to give him an easier access to you. He hummed, wrapping his large blue hand on your hip to angle you up before he pushed his thighs under you, angling your pussy upwards.

This allowed you, and him, to have a perfect view of him fingerfucking you, the only things obscuring it for you being his tail rhythmically tapping on your clit, sensing ripples through your already quivering cunt. He pressed his finger close to your entrance, looking between it and you, asking a silent question which you answered with affirmation moments after.

Another finger entered you on the next thrust, certainly easier then before, your walls already slightly looser, making lewd squelching sounds as he pulled them in and out, your arousal smearing along your thighs and his hand. "Should I make ya come now?"

"Now. I wanna come now." You mewl twisting your fingers into the ruffled pillow.

"Do ya? After ya went against orders and decided to came in here when ya weren't supposed ta? I don't think ya earned an orgasm. Fucktoys don't get a say, they only get used." His tail trailed across your leg and wrapped around your left ankle, applying the tiniest bit of pressure. "Sadly for me, they don't exactly make fucktoys for the Na'vi. So I'll settle for your many holes instead."

"Wait... how long does your... mating season last?" You tried to think clearly, the scientist in you trying to take in as much information as possible through your current horny mindset.

"Hell if I know. I do know that, since yer already here, I want ya here with me. Let me take care of ya sweetheart. Take my fucking cock and I'll make ya feel so good." He bended his huge body over yours, looming you between the bed and himself, not in a trapping way but rather in a protective one. His hands pressed on both sides of you, his forearms bracketing your head.

You moaned at the intrusion of his broad cock at your pussy hole. As his cock came to a stop he was not even half way in, which made him growl in frustration. "I'm sorry." You cupped his face and gave him a soft kiss.

"Don't be. I can still fuck ya just fine." He gritted through clenched teeth. He was burning up, anxious and irritated but bent on fucking your brilliant brains out no matter the obstacle, very similar in him completing his missions as a soldier. "Feel that?" He pulled back and thrust back in, his cum already making it easier for you to take him. Makes you wonder just how much of it he has in him.

You clenched around him, inviting him deeper while fully knowing you couldn't take him. Yet somewhere at the back of your mind you wanted to, you wanted to be broken and taken by him.

"Take ya, break ya, breed ya. I can do it all sweetheart." Your eyes widened upon seeing him smirk, "What? Did yer words slip out? Already crazy from my cock I see. This is just the start." His sharp fangs grazed your throat, sending pleasant shivers down your spine while he propped himself up with his legs, his hands firmly grabbing your hips, "So easy for me ta put ya in any position I want. Do ya like look at my cock fucking your slutty little cunt?" You nodded without hesitation or humiliation as a thought entered your brain.

You knew that the Na'vi ponytails were sensitive, that they hooked them up during sex. It was probably why Quaritch was so deeply frustrated, he couldn't get that sweet release, that feeling. So you reached to it, wrapped it around your hand and made eye contact with him.

Quaritch looked between you and your hand, "What do ya think yer- Oh! Fuck!" He roared in surprise and ecstasy as you pulled on the ponytail, his cock twitched wildly, leaking more cum, "Holy shit yeah. Do that again." The command was strained, spoken breathlessly.

"Yes sir." You joked but it clearly had an effect on him, almost as much as you discovering his new weak spot did. You tugged and pulled him closer. "It feels good, I'll be sore tomorrow but, fuck me harder."

"Tomorrow? I ain't letting ya sleep. No, I'll spend every waking minute dumping my cum into yer womb. Just watch, I couldn't care less if it's impossible I'll get ya round with my seed. Leave ya drowning in my cum and begging for more loads." Those words, those promises made your pussy quiver around him, you whimpered and nodded along, wordlessly begging him to deliver on those.

He was nothing if not a man of his word.

With a room shaking roar he emptied his thick, creamy seed into your slobbering pussyhole, flooding your walls with it. Not enough yet, you tugged on his ponytail, hard, watching as his eyes rolled back into his skull and almost making him lose control as he hammered away into your cunt, his fingers squeezing and leaving bruises on your hips, "Take it, take it, fucking take it sweetheart."

The white cum pooled under you and gushed all over Quaritch's abs as your body snapped tight like a string, your stretched and abused hole clamping down around the tip as your orgasm rocked through you. "All of it Miles, I want all of it. Make me come more, breed me." Hearing you echo his desires back made him grin, once again making you feel small before him, under him, "That's right. I want you to make good on your promise. Even if my body can't take it."

"Oh ya can take it alright. I'll make sure of that. I'll fuck ya until dawn, ya can bet this sweet pussy on that." He pulled back, frowning as his cum leaked out, "What a fuckin' waste. Need to keep this hole plugged it seems." He flipped you over on your stomach and pulled your hips up, emboldened by your squeak of surprise as he pushed the tip back inside, "There we go. Ready for round two?"

"A-Already? But I'm still so- ah!" He pushed forward, scraping your sensitive walls, making you throw your head back in pleasure and ball your fists into the sheets in pain. "Sensitive."

"But you can take more. I know you can. I promised you all night sweetheart, and I intend on making good on that." It was bound to be a very long night ahead, one no doubt filled with mind-numbing pleasure for you both. Which was a bit of a problem as you did actually intend on making observations during this. Oh well, you'll just have to keep repeating the process until you get it right.

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 .

# with roronoa zoro.

in which zoro’s refusal to bathe is never-ending, much to nami’s discontentment — and your amusement.

⎰ & fluff. implied fem!reader. no y/n used. suggestive. zoro being stinky. me trying to be funny.

WC: 1.6K !

the light from the midday sun threatened to slip through the thick and darkened lenses of your glasses, forcing your eyes shut. warmth enveloped the many bare pieces of your skin as though a particularly startling — yet not quite unwelcome — hug. waves crashed against the sunny, humming a peaceful and gentle lullaby, with tendrils determined to guide you towards the vague pathway of dreams. a contented sigh trespassed the shut surface of your lips. limbs losing strength and sounds losing focus, it was but a matter of time until sleep claimed your consciousness.

until the interruption — rude, may you add — of those precious passage of seconds.

nami groaned for what seemed to be the uptenth time within less than half-an-hour. with the rise of an eyebrow, you placed the sunglasses above your head and peeked out at her abhorred figure, knees pressed to her chest and an enraged expression as she sat on the wooden-made sun lounger. with a sigh, your sunglasses returned to its previous position as you shifted your attention towards the bright-blue sky.

“what’s the matter?” you inquired, placing a hand underneath your head for further comfort.

“it’s been nine days,” the navigator hissed, to which you frowned.

“since what?”

“zoro’s last bath,” robin clarified from where she, too, had sat to sunbathe, her glance lingering to the page of the book she held.

“two days more than his usual,” nami continued, exasperatedly gesturing to the swordsman, who slept heavily at the furthest edge of the deck, his broad back pressed to a corner.

the sun was neither kind nor comprehensive with his lack of care towards his skin’s health. it licked at the tanned muscles as though a starving beast, whose motives and eagerness you could quite understand. due to the mere tank top he wore and the usual green bandana tied around his forearm, he’d be left with terribly mismatched tan lines, which usually meant him spending the rest of the week shirtless on deck to even them out.

not at all a terrible scenario, you mused with certain malice, having the fantasies of sweat and pleasure and bites interrupted by nami’s continuous complaints.

“his stench surpassed luffy’s! how can i enjoy the peace and warmth of the day with an open sewage on deck?” the navigator whined as you choked with restrained laughter over the comparison.

a splash accompanied by chopper’s cries and usopp’s shouting made it known that your captain had fallen in the sea mid-fishing. yet another splash indicated that someone had come to his rescue — jimbei, if you had to guess.

“considering the amount of times luffy dove underwater accidentally, it’s of no surprise that he’s smelling better,” robin noted with her usual factual tone, absentmindedly flipping a page with an amused grin.

“that’s not something for him to be proud of,” nami whined, throwing her weight back onto the lounging chair.

“maybe they’re competing to see who can withstand the longer without a bath,” you chimed in.

“wouldn’t sea bathing count then?” robin curiously noted.

nami observed the pair of you with utter terror — whether due to your nonchalance or the mere thought of such a competition taking place, you did not know.

the strong and characteristic scent of sanji’s perfume invaded both your nostrils and line of thought as he approached with a tray elegantly supported by his palm. three colored cocktails were above it, and the cook held himself with pride.

“a beverage for the ladies to freshen themselves during this scalding afternoon?” he offered smoothly, to which you beamed before accepting one — as did the other two women.

“see?” nami pointed out, taking a sip from her cocktail. “sanji has a pleasant scent. like a person who bathes everyday should.”

the contained manner with which he held himself vanished as he melted and fell down on his knees, shouting promises of love and adoration tangled with nearly unrecognizable words of gratitude. you moved your head closer to his neck, sniffing. sanji fell with his back against the deck, limbs spread as though a starfish anchored to a rock by the shore.

“too perfumed,” you decided, returning to your previous position.

“i will stop bathing for you, light of my life, rarest treasure of my seas, golden hand whose fingers hold the chain of my will,” sanji declared with a pompous and desperate tone, kneeling as he searched for your hand.

“no, you won’t!” nami shouted with nothing but rage, and you could see the gears turning inside her head: the awful prospect of the one and only man of the crew who bathed everyday, losing this costume all of the sudden.

“no i won’t, my beloved nami-swan, the thunder who restarted the beating of my heart and ignited the flames of love within me!” the cook agreed, turning towards her.

“pity,” you noted, sipping on your cocktail. sanji stopped mid-sentence, as if malfunctioning.

“you’ll break him,” robin said with certain amusement.

neither had the chance to test that theory whatsoever, as luffy’s drenched figure latched itself on sanji’s back, shouting for meat as per usual. once the cook left the scene with the captain on his trail, a second of peace lingered before nami, yet again, returned to the previous subject.

“i forgot men and bathing weren’t your thing,” she stated, to which robin peeked from her book with certain intrigue.

“i mentioned that at the island we last visited,” you explained to her, and the archeologist hummed.

“how did it came to that?” she had asked, absentmindedly returning to her book, though you had known the woman for long enough to catch on the genuine interest and the scheming behind that exterior. she caught onto something.

“the flirty and laidback opponent at the latest island we mentioned, who kept asking us our type in men and women,” nami clarified.

“and i’m presuming that you answered him,” robin concluded, observing your figure.

“muddy and hardworking,” you grinned with certain pride. “he was so beaten up, i doubt he can even manage to remember it.”

“besides, he was tidy,” nami added. “as in, wearing a stronger perfume than sanji’s and whining at a bit of grass, kind of tidy.”

“so, it was a diversion?” robin had asked, her tone amused. “to get him out of your feet?”

you shrugged. “not exactly.”

“enlighten me,” she replied at last, nearly laughing at her own train of thought. “wasn’t zoro paired up with the two of you on the last island?”

nami’s entire expression shifted to one of numbness. your posture straightened and the sunglasses slipped to your lap as a consequence. the navigator was fuming, eyes so intense it was as though they could ignite at any given moment.

“this is your fault!” she shouted, pointing an accusing finger towards you.

the defensive words had abandoned your mind and tongue as nami raised from her seat. without a second thought, you jumped from yours and ran through the deck, the navigator hot on your trail.

“fix that!” she demanded, her loud tone gathering the general attention and pinning it to the both of you.

you thought about the sweat dripping from his muscles after a particularly harsh battle. the seasalt etched to his body. the dried redness of his blood contrasting against the tanned tone of his skin. the mere prospect of maiming that sculpture built by memories and victories with your fragrances and soap and lotions left a sour taste to your tongue. so, you turned on your feet towards the one place you knew nami would never dare to follow — at least, not under those circumstances.

zoro opened his eye, awake due to the commotion. upon witnessing your sprint, a grin etched on his features as his arms traveled from his chest to his nape; as his legs spreaded out in one lazy, yet effective, invitation. once you were close enough, you slid on the deck, and zoro grabbed your waist smoothly to press the side of your body against his chest. the swordsman sat you on his lap effortlessly, and you guided your face to his pressure point, taking in the mixture of sweat and salt and steel.

a whisper of the scent of ointment and gauze from the treatment of his previous endeavors lingered still. minuscule particles of sand, from when he rolled and dug during a battle, scratched against the tip of your nose, and adorned his skin as though beach-kissed freckles. zoro was edges and violence and scars. yet, if one learned where to guide one’s eyes, the brutal exterior would melt into a pool of steel with recollections drawn with passion and effort. luckily, as it seemed, those small little details were sheltered from the external world: hidden through a mist of undeniable stench.

nami ceased mid-run and choked in disgust, covering her nose and mouth as zoro raised an armpit on purpose.

“cheater,” she accused, pointing to you yet again before turning towards zoro with a grimace, “and you, take a shower, you stenching brute.”

“can’t,” zoro answered with undeniable cockiness, hugging your shoulders. “m’girl likes me muddy.”

the navigator contorted her face before throwing the towel and deciding it was best to sunbathe further away. you threw your head back with a genuine smile to observe the swordsman as he smirked, guiding his free hand further down to give your ass a harsh squeeze.

“wanna take it to the crow’s nest?” he offered, a veil of lust settling in his glance.

“have you washed your dick today?” you inquired, precise and straightforward.

the swordsman groaned and leaned his head back on the mast, shutting his eye. “later.”

you hummed, following him suit to take a well-deserved nap, aware that you’d need the energy for when he decided to hop on that damned sink, returning with his pants drenched from the water and malice etched on his face.

muddy and hardworking it is — but with some limits drawn.

— 🐈‍⬛ as tsukumo yuki once said: i like ‘em stinky. and honestly i get her. romanticizing zoro’s stench because why not?

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 16 - Chéri

Aha, so I went a different route this time and the POVs are all over the place! But I enjoyed how this one turned out. Hit me in all the feels. just a bit angsty but nothing too terrible!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! much love from me

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Arthur hated the rain. 

Sure, you seemed happy when you danced with P and splashed in the puddles as you waited for the signal for you to get in your car. The smile on your face should have been enough to damper his bad feelings. 

But it was raining. And it was Suzuka. 

He felt heavy as he got ready earlier that morning. The sad smile on Charles’s face hadn’t helped either. They both felt it when their feet touched the asphalt. They felt it as they held onto each other for a little longer than usual before Charles got dressed. 

He tried to take deep breaths before the cameras turned on as he was supposed to help Jensen and Nico with the interviews today. Both ex-drivers seemed to understand the weight that this track had on the younger Monegasque, so they covered the heavier questions. 

Arthur could only be glad that he was technically supporting you today. The navy polo felt itchy on his skin. Sure, he missed the red polo with the yellow symbol, but navy was your color. It helped him feel closer to you, when you were kilometers away in your car. 

He could tell people wanted to ask. He knew they were itching to just say, “How does it feel to be back on the circuit that killed your godfather.” But, they’d never ask, they would just send sad smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes. 

Even you, his smiley best friend, could tell something was off. 

Arthur’s hands itched more than the skin under the polo. He would never be able to explain the sensation, but they itched. Maybe he should hold a cold can of Red Bull to cool the burn, but that wouldn’t help. 

His eyes were strained as he watched the data computer in front of him. He checked and checked again. 

Your tires would be fine. There’d be no stray cranes or tractors. The car was safe. 

Well, that’s what everyone told him and Charles 9 years ago.  

You scared him when you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Jumpy today?” you questioned. You were already in your thick race suit, a helmet was in your hands. It wasn’t anything special, just your plain navy and gold one. You had already showed him your special one for Miami. 

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer. “A bit.” 

A sad smile formed on your face. Right now, he didn’t need words. He just needed you and Charles to be safe, and not be in the car this weekend. 

He finally sighed and turned to face you as he took your helmet in your hands. For a moment, he thought about smashing the damn thing, since he knew you didn’t have a backup. But what would be the point. 

He placed the lid on your head, keeping it above your forehead. “Starting pole today?” 

Now your smile was genuine. “Yep! Thur, I have a chance to win this!” 

He tried to mirror the smile, but again, it didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, he’d wait to kiss the “forehead” of you helmet, but today he needed a little something extra. 

Your eyes closed as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your head, almost between your eyes. You placed your hands on top of his, where they were still holding your helmet as a mushroom hat. 

You whispered, “Are you ok?” 

Arthur backed up just a bit. “Like you said, a bit jumpy.” 

Looking back, you knew you should have listened to the warning bells that were going off in your head. Arthur was rarely jumpy. 

And he loved the rain. 

You stepped closer and gave him a hug. Tears might have pooled at his lash line, but he’d never admit to it. He squeezed just a bit tighter before letting you go, so you could get into your car. 

Another hand was placed on his shoulder. His eyes met the figure of Kelly, who was holding P. Her eyes, he thinks, were trying to tell him that you’d be alright. That Charles would be alright. And that nothing would go wrong. 

How wrong she was.

Starting Grid: 

Y/n L/n 

Max Verstappen 

Charles Leclerc 

Fernando Alonso 

Carlos Sainz 

Lewis Hamilton 

Lando Norris 

Lance Stroll 

Oscar Piastri 

George Russell 

Alex Albon 

Pierre Gasly 

Logan Sargeant 

Esteban Ocon 

Yuki Tsunoda

Daniel Ricciardo 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Japanese Grand Prix. Y/n L/n gets a good start down the first straight with her teammate Max Verstappen right behind her. Charles Leclerc goes wide, trying to gain the position around Verstappen, as the Dutchman is still trying to get the jump ahead on his rookie teammate and does he have it on the first turn? 

“No he does not! Y/n L/n leads the Japanese Grand Prix!” 

Was it normal if his heart was racing just as fast as these cars were? Well, for some fans it would be due to excitement. And, deep down, Arthur was very excited. You were doing everything that you ever dreamed of doing. 

You’d make 5-year-old Y/n proud. 

“Looks like the rain is drying up a bit. We’ll see who gets called into the pits first, and it looks like our race leader has been called in to switch. Now, she started on the intermediates and looks like she’ll be going to the hards. Weird call, but so far this season she has been on the bad end of tyre degradation. So we’ll see if she’ll be able to keep her lead with the hards. 

“Seems as though she has started a train of pit stops and still comes out in P1.” 

Your car was cruising. Yes, your heart was racing, maybe going as fast as your RB20. And it was due to excitement. You were leading, with a comfortable gap. Right now, you couldn’t see anything in your mirrors. 

You pressed your radio. 

“Mitch, what is the gap? And will I be able to take a win or do I need to let Max by?” you questioned. You were hoping that it’d be the first instance. Your maiden race win on your fourth Formula 1 race. What a start that would be. 

Mitch finally answered. “Just talked to Christian. If Max is able to catch you, then you’d need to let him by. But, right now your pace is the same if not faster than his. So, kid, I’d suggest you keep making qualifying laps and you might be a race winner today.” 

“Copy.” 

Your car jerked around a corner as you continued to press. 

You were hungry, starving even, for that win. You’d show everyone who doubted you that you were capable of winning. 

Yet, around the spoon corner of turn 13 and 14, the RB20 slid a bit more than you intended to. 

Your finger flew to the radio button. “Uh, Mitch what was that?” 

Her response was immediate. “Your breaks are a bit hot. I know I told you to push, but please slow down on the turns.” 

“Got it. And who is the car in front of me? Did someone get around or?” 

“That’s Ocon. He dropped down after he pitted and will be a lapped car in about a lap or so.” 

Arthur listened from the pits as Mitch gave you some advice. The first time he saw your car jerk a bit too much, he swore he died right there. He was thankfully given a pair of headphones so that he could listen in on whatever you said. They were uncomfortable, but he’d do anything right now to be closer to you. 

He watched as you got closer and closer to the Alpine. If you got around it, you’d be home free with almost 10 laps to go. 

Your first win. He could almost taste it for you, and he wasn’t even hungry for a victory. And maybe after your win, it’d be a good time for a confession. 

But he had hope that things wouldn’t end like that. 

You’d get a win and he’d get the one thing he’s wanted ever since you scared him at the first meeting. 

“Mitch, he’s braking hard on the turns. Can you please let the stewards know? He’s going to be a lapped car but is defending like he’s in first place.” 

One of the Red Bull engineers immediately got on it. 

“Mitch?” 

Was Arthur hearing things, or did you sound panicked? 

“Yeah Kid? We’re on it about the breaking.” 

“He’s not letting me by! And my breaks are acting weird again.” 

You sounded panicked. Mitch pressed a couple of buttons as Arthur started to nibble on his fingers. 

“Mitch! My breaks.” 

“Kid, they’re overheating. You need to slow down.” 

“Mitch I need to get around him. Seven more laps left.” 

“Kid, I know that, but we don’t need you spinning out.” 

Arthur’s hands began to burn as the itch got worse. 

“He’s going deep. I can go around.” 

“Kid, it’s too risky. Just wait until he’s given a penalty.” 

“I can do it! I’ll be a race winner!” 

“Kid, hold on!” 

“I got it!” 

Arthur’s heart stopped racing. 

“Kid!” 

“L/n tries to go around the outside of Ocon and…” 

Oh.

The sound was silent and deafening at the same time. 

A ringing sound echoed in his ears as he watched your car flip and flip and flip. 

Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Barrier. 

Black. 

The garage was in chaos, but somehow everything was going in slow motion? Arthur just stood still as everyone raced around.  

“That is the Red Bull of Y/n L/n that has gone into the barriers. It seems to be wedged upside down and stuck. Do we have any answer from inside the car?” 

Mitch frantically held down the radio button. 

“Kid answer me? Kid? Come on. This isn’t funny.” 

Arthur just stood still. 

Next to Mitch, GP was on the radio with Max. 

The Dutchman passed the accident site first. 

“Ah, was that Ocon? Serves him right for last week. Gap to Y/n please?” 

“Uh. That is a red flag Max,” GP sighed, “please come back to the pits.” 

“Fine. Tell the kid that we can drink a juice box or something.” 

“Just come in.” 

The rest of the drivers got similar radio messages. 

“Be careful. Red flag, there’s a Red Bull in the barriers Charles.” 

Charles’s heart dropped but he covered it with a chuckle, blissfully unaware. “Max finally made a mistake?” 

There was no answer from Xavi. 

“Red flag, return to the pits Lando.” 

“To the pits please Lewis, there’s a red flag.” 

“George, come in. Red flag is out and you need to get to the pits.” 

“Ah, Daniel, red flag. Back to the pits please.” 

“Oscar, please come to the pits. There’s been an accident and it’s a red flag.” 

“Logan? Pits please, the red flag is out.”

“Arthur!” 

The yell of his name brought him out of his stupor. His eyes met Mitch’s brown ones, where she was beckoning him over. He took the itchy headphones off and all but sprinted over to the pit wall. Immediately, Mitch put her own headphones on his head. 

“Talk to her. Get her talking.” 

It was a command that Arthur would take to heart. 

“Y/n?” Damn it, voice crack. “Y/n, please let me know you’re ok?” 

“It seems as though Arthur Leclerc is trying to get L/n to respond. Is there still nothing? The marshals are over there, and are trying, but she’s not out of the car yet?” 

Max looked around for your matching Red Bull. Two juice boxes were in his hands as he looked for your helmet. Had you gone for another lap on accident? He turned to the red-clad Monegasque who was weirdly frozen next to him. 

“Hey Charles, where’s Y/n…” 

The juice boxes fell to the ground as Max’s attention was now on the big screen that was broadcasting the wreck site. 

Next to him, Charles’s eyes were welling up with tears. His head swerved as he tried to find his brother. Curse him for wearing the dark polo. 

“Hey, Charlie?” 

A voice called for him through the fog, but his brain was hyper-active. Two hands were placed on his shoulders and blue eyes blocked the big screen. 

“She has a halo. Right now, they’re trying to get her out, ok?” Max tried to comfort the Ferrari driver, but was having some issues not crying as well.  

Charles mindlessly nodded. Pierre had come by a few moments later and brought him into a hug. It was then he let the tears fall along with his knees as he dropped to the asphalt. 

Max whispered as tears began to fall. “Come on kid. Just answer please.” His hands were tucked under his face, almost as if he were in prayer. 

Lando and Oscar held on to each other, trying to offer some comfort. Daniel stood behind them, hands at his sides. 

In his mind, he only thought, “Was he going to lose another friend to this track?” 

Charles was still on the ground, being comforted by Pierre as he rocked back and forth. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening again. Pas encore, pas elle. J’ai perdu Jules, je ne peux pas la perdre, Arthur ne peut pas la perdre. S’il te plait, s’il te plait, s’il te plait.” (Not again, no her. I’ve lost Jules, I can’t lose her, Arthur can’t lose her. Please, please, please.”)  

Logan sat numbly on the ground a little ways away. He had gone to get his headphones first thing to block everything out. He would laugh if he could at the next song that played through the speakers, but didn’t. Life is a Highway wouldn’t have the same meaning after today. 

Alex was on the phone with Lily, trying to update his girlfriend. You weren’t close with Alex yet, but he saw how well you treated his teammate. 

Lewis and George were couped up in the Mercedes garage. Lewis had refused to turn around and look at the big screen. Ten years hadn’t even passed since it last took a life and Lewis wasn’t about to see them drag your body from under the wreckage. George was trying to cope. Sunglasses were on to hide his tears and red eyes. 

At this moment, they were all prepared for what was to come: your body draped with a white blanket. 

Arthur was still trying. In this moment, it was just you and him. You were alive, you had to be. 

“Y/n? Please answer me? I-I can’t lose you. Ok? Can’t lose you like Jules. S’il te plait, tu dois aller bien. Nous avons encore tellement de choses a faire. Tu as besoin d’une victoire, et je te dire ce je ressens. Chéri…” (Please, you have to be ok. We still have so much to do. You need a race win, and I need to tell you how I feel.”)

A crackling noise came over the radio, right as he was about to give up. His breath hitched. 

“Y/n?” 

“Heeyyyyy,” you voice sounded. A sob escaped from Arthur’s lips. 

His hands didn’t itch anymore. 

“You are an idiot.” 

A groan left your mouth. “I know. Shit, I’m stuck.” 

Mitch, who now had another headphone set on her head, started to talk. “Ok kid. The RB20 was designed for this. You just have to keep kicking the side.” 

You sighed. “Ok.” 

You managed to scrunch yourself in the cockpit and began to kick. That was the moment that Arthur ran back to the garage. 

“She’s awake and answering!” 

Cheers filled the air while Christian crouched down. 

“Thank God,” he whispered, before standing back up and walking out to the pit lane. 

Kelly was the one to grab Arthur’s shoulder. “Come, I can drive you to the hospital. She’ll need us.” 

With a nod of his head, Arthur grabbed your bag and off he, P, and Kelly went. Vito quickly followed after them, hands full of your documentations and everything you'd need.

On the pit lane, Max watched as the wall of your RB20 suddenly flew away from the car. 

“Charles,” he barely whispered, but the Monegasque heard him somehow and stood up swiftly. A hand grasped his shoulder, and he whipped around to find Christian. 

“She’s ok.”

By now, everyone’s eyes were trained on the car. Marshals swarmed around it, ready for anything. What they didn’t expect though, was for one leg to swing out and then another. By the time they got over their shock, you were already halfway out. They quickly kneeled to help you further. 

“She is out of the car and looks completely fine! She will have to be taken to the hospital. Our calculations are showing that when she stopped, she experienced 54 g-forces. We don’t know if the race will be continued for the remaining 7 laps, but we will keep you updated.” 

Your feet squished the grass as you limped toward the on-site ambulance. You looked around and saw multiple cameras, watching your every move. You were thankful for some of the marshals who tried to push them away. But, in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to let everyone know you were fine. 

So, with a probably sprained ankle, you started to lightly bounce and raise your hands and wave. A few laughs were let out by the people around you. You pressed a finger toward you heart and then lifted it to the sky. 

Charles knew exactly what you were doing. He finally lifted himself off the ground, with Pierre’s help, and did the same motion. 

Thank you Jules. 

Max was back in the garage, now getting ready for the last few laps. He was angry. Honestly, they should just let everyone go, but a race is a race and it’s not completed. 

Mitch and GP came over. 

“Kelly went with Arthur and P to the hospital. She says that she’ll keep us updated,” GP told him. 

Mitch sucked in a breath. “We’ll let you know how she is after the race. And Max?” 

He turned to your engineer. 

“Win for her. Ok?” Tears lined her eyes. 

Max nodded, wanting to win for you. 

He put his helmet on and stalked toward his car. 

“And Max?” This time it was Christian, who had jogged up next to him. Max turned his head, full attention on his team principal. 

“Give Ocon hell for us.” 

Max turned back toward his car, eyes quickly darting to the alpine vehicle. 

Oh, he would. 

Race Results: 

Max Verstappen +25

Charles Leclerc +18 

Lando Norris +15 

Oscar Piastri +12

Carlos Sainz +11

Lewis Hamilton +8

George Russell +6 

Daniel Ricciardo +4 

Alex Albon +2 

Fernando Alonso +1

Logan Sargeant +0 

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Pierre Gasly +0 

Valtteri Bottas +0

Lance Stroll +0 

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0 

Zhou Guanyu +0 

Esteban Ocon +0 

Y/n L/n – DNF 

Standings after Suzuka 

Max Verstappen – 100 points 

Charles Leclerc – 66 points 

Lando Norris – 42 points 

Y/n L/n – 41 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 32 points 

Oscar Piastri – 31 points 

Carlos Sainz – 28 points 

Fernando Alonso – 23 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points 

George Russell – 20 points 

Alex Albon – 4 points 

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Esteban Ocon - 0 points

Constructors Standings after Suzuka 

Red Bull – 214 points 

Ferrari – 139 points 

McLaren – 105 points 

Mercedes – 87 points 

Racing Bulls – 36 points 

Aston Martin – 26 points 

Williams – 4 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points 

f1 has posted *pretend there are no cars in the back of the second photo*

f1 Y/n L/n is out of the Japanese Grand Prix following a nasty impact! Mechanics who looked at her car found a faulty brake pad that caused an intense lock up on turn 15. The Red Bull rookie would have experienced around 54 G's when her car finally stopped at the barrier. L/n was escorted to the local hospital and was later released today.

liked by y/n_nation, maxiel_lover, iamred_iamyellow, and 94,873 others

y/n_updates I am so thankful that she's ok now, my heart stopped for a few minutes until she got out

y/nxarthur Arthur's and Charles's faces as they were waiting for her to get out, I was sobbing

leclerc4ever well, considering they lost their godfather at this exact circuit almost ten years ago, I felt their pain through the screen thur_thur exactly, Arthur's cries over the radio will haunt me for the rest of my life

box_box_express does anyone know who went with her? obviously the drivers had to finish the race

y/n_nation some sources say that Arthur and Kelly went with her as well as her manager Vito box_box_official thank you!

rb_rookie Red Bull finally released a statement that they will be looking into the faulty part, because apparently Max was also having the same issue

y/n_lover glad our girl is ok, but did anyone see how mad Max was? she locked up because she was breaking too hard behind Ocon. He needs to be stopped because this is Y/n's second impact and its all because of him

f1_fanatic ikr, and he was about to be a lapped car too!

b0x_b0x_nightmare she flipped almost 10 times, she could have died - Jules was definitely keeping her safe (thank you halo)

y/n_marry_me AND THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HER FIRST WIN TOO GRRRRRRRR

f1_gossip has posted

f1_gossip looks like Mad Max is BACK. The dutch driver was seen yelling at Alpine driver Esteban Ocon after the race. Some sources say he was needed to be held back and Ocon had to be escorted back to his own garage. Max also barely responded to any of the post-race media interviews and immediately left after he was done.

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by max_max_super, f1_fanatic, y/n_on_TOP, and 24,028 others

f1-fan BAHAHAHA I was laughing my ass off when Max was yelling at Ocon because he deserved it

max_max the return of Mad Max (although I wish it was under different circumstances, I feel so bad for Y/n)

lestappenlove I also saw Charles join in on the yelling as well

max&kid well deserved for Ocon. Seriously though, he needs to have like a penalty or something

y/n_fanclub is it bad that I wished Max would have punched him?

max_is_da_best nope, because I think we all wanted that to happen

leclercxverstappen I know for sure that if Arthur was there, he would have gone off too, you don't mess with Y/n and expect to walk away unhurt

max33 he was FUMING

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 everything hurts but pookie made it better with Macas, Cars 2, and the Porsche 911 Lego set - I'll be back, that top step is MINE

tagged: arthur_leclerc

liked by ollibearman, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, y/n_updates and 73,911 others

y/n_nation so happy for the update! we're all so glad that you're ok!

oscarpiastri mad that he got a picture and not me, I was literally also there

logansargeant and I brought your blanket?? y/n.89 but did you bring me macas, my favorite movie, AND legos?

olliebearman that's it mom - I'm coming to visit before you actually die

y/n.89 SON! olliebearman MOM! arthur_leclerc son? olliebearman DAD? maxverstappen1 son?! charles_leclerc dad?! olliebearman grandfathers? landonorris hold-up

y/n_updates POOKIE?? HELLO?

y/nxarthur me rn, having the urge to say something about the word "pookie": STAY IN THE BOX, NO! STAY IN THE BOX, NO!

that_1_y/n_fan I wonder what the doctor said

y/n.89 basically I have bruises in the shape of my seatbelt and a sprained ankle from kicking the side of the RB20 to get out. just some r&r needed before Shanghai! y/n.fan703 oh my gosh feel better!

danielricciardo hope you feel better darl! Heidi and I will be over with some actual food

lewishamilton Roscoe says that you need some snuggles, we'll come over when you tell us to francisca.gomez coming over with pear and some other get better goodies :D y/n.89 I love you all!

maxverstappen1 was the Lego set really necessary?

arthur_leclerc YES y/n.89 YES landonorris YES oscarpiastri YES logansargeant YES maxverstappen1 ok sheesh, sorry

y/n-y/n-fan is no one going to address the middle picture??

author shhhhhhhh (its for the plot)

f1_fanatic Ocon better watch out cause it's on SIGHT

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

[charlesslut16]

-our time-

summary : you, george and your little girl are on vacation

PAIRING : dad!george russel x fem!mom!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you like this one, lovies!

masterlist 

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

The sun was shining brightly on a warm summer afternoon as you stepped out onto the terrace of the luxurious hotel. You held the hand of your husband, George Russell, who smiled down at you with his signature warmth.

In his other arm, he cradled his six-month-old daughter. The hotel’s poolside restaurant bustled with activity, the sounds of laughter and splashing water creating a lively, cheerful atmosphere.

"Isn't this place beautiful?" George asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked around. He loved going on vacation, as his busy racing schedule did not allow it often.

"Absolutely," you agreed, squeezing his hand. "And it's the perfect day for a little family outing." You were so happy to finally have george and your daughter for the whole day without any duties.

Your daughter gurgled happily in George's arms, her wide blue eyes reflecting the clear sky above. Her tiny hands reached out, grabbing at the air, fascinated by everything around her.

George chuckled, adjusting her sun hat to shield her delicate skin from the sun. Her yellow sundress flowing in the wind. Hey face showing pure emotion and curiosity.

"Let's find a nice spot," George suggested, leading the way to a shaded table near the pool. The gentle breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers, adding to the serene ambiance.

As you settled into your seats, a friendly waiter approached, offering a menu filled with delicious options. George glanced at Emilia, who was now contentedly chewing on her teething ring.

"How about some fresh fruit and a couple of smoothies?" George suggested, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing smile. "And maybe something a bit more substantial for us?"

You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with affection as you watched George effortlessly balance his roles as a doting father and a loving husband. The waiter took your order and left, promising to return soon.

George gently rocked your daughter, who was now starting to doze off in his arms. Her tiny fingers curled around his shirt, and he looked down at her with pure adoration. She loved her father.

"She's such a little angel," George murmured, his voice filled with awe.

"She takes after her dad," you teased, earning a playful grin from George.

As you waited for your food, you three enjoyed the peaceful moment, the sound of water splashing and children laughing creating a pleasant background.

George shared stories from his racing adventures, his passion and excitement infectious. You found yourself laughing at his stories, feeling incredibly lucky to share these moments with him.

Soon, the waiter returned with a platter of fresh fruit, vibrant and colorful, along with two tall glasses of smoothies. George carefully placed your daughter in her stroller, ensuring she was comfortable, before turning his attention to the delicious spread.

"Cheers to a perfect day," George said, raising his glass.

"To us," you echoed, clinking your glasses together.

As you savored the refreshing smoothies, you fed your daughter small pieces of banana, her tiny mouth opening eagerly for each bite. George captured the moment on his phone, his smile broadening with each adorable expression your daughter made.

"She's a natural in front of the camera," George said proudly. "Just like her mum."

You laughed, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "She's definitely got your charm."

The afternoon continued in a blissful haze. You took turns playing with her, dipping her tiny toes into the pool, much to her delight. Her giggles were infectious, drawing smiles from everyone around. George couldn't resist joining in the fun, splashing water gently to make her laugh even more.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the pool area, you all settled back at your table, enjoying a light dinner. George fed your daughter her evening bottle, his patience and tenderness evident in every movement.

You felt a deep sense of contentment, knowing you were building beautiful memories together. You always knew that this man would be your husband and the father of your children.

With your daughter now fast asleep in her stroller, you and George leaned back, watching the stars begin to twinkle in the twilight sky. George took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

"Today was perfect," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the same stars you were gazing at.

"Yes, it was," you agreed, your heart full of love.

"I love you, darling" george added softly, the content in his eyes visibly showing.

"I love you" you said softly, giving him a kiss.

As you sat there, hand in hand, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always be cherished. The laughter, the love, and the simple joy of being together as a family made every day an adventure worth living.

And as the night wrapped its gentle embrace around you, you looked forward to the many more perfect days to come, knowing that with George and your daughter by your side, life would always be an incredible journey.

[oskea93]

Kansas Anymore (2)

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, suggested smut, fluff. ✶ Chapter One ✶

■ Italics = Flashback ■ A/N: You guys are amazing! I just want to say thank you so much for loving this story and follwing the tale of Riley and Tyler ❤️ ■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can't wait to hear from y'all

TL:  @ellesmythe @18lkpeters @hookslove1592, @djs8891, @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek

“You know when you said that we were going to a show, I didn’t expect it to involve horses and mud.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, my heels sinking into the soggy ground with each step. I had been in Arkansas for less than a month – choosing to attend the college that my father spoke so highly of growing up. As each day passed, it was getting harder and harder to fight the urge to pack all my things and head back home.

My roommate Sarah, who had grown up in the area, laughed as she turned to face me. "Welcome to the South! This is what we call a rodeo. Trust me, you'll have fun."

I glanced around at the bustling fairground. Families gathered around food stalls, the smell of popcorn and barbecue hanging in the air. Children ran past us, their boots splashing in puddles, their laughter ringing out above the distant sounds of country music. Cowboys in worn jeans and hats moved with purpose, leading majestic horses by the reins.

"Fun, huh?" I muttered, trying to pull my heel out of yet another patch of mud. "It looks like a real blast.” Sarah grinned and tugged at my arm, leading me toward the main arena. "Oh, come on! You haven't even seen the best parts yet. The bull riding, barrel racing, and don't forget the rodeo clowns. They’re hilarious!"

As we walked, I noticed the vibrant colors of the stands selling cowboy hats, boots, and all sorts of Western memorabilia. There was an infectious energy in the air. People greeted each other with wide smiles and friendly nods, embodying the warmth of Southern hospitality that Sarah had talked about.

We passed a group of teenagers gathered around a mechanical bull. They cheered each other on, daring one another to take a ride. Sarah nudged me, "Think you could last eight seconds on that thing?"

I shook my head, laughing. "No way! I'd be thrown off in a heartbeat."

A mischievous smirk broke across her face. “Never know till you try.” I rolled my eyes and started to walk away, but her grip on my arm stopped me. “Just once.” Her eyes widened with a playful challenge. “Have a little fun, Riley.”

My eyes glanced between her and the machinery behind her, taking in the sight as a teenage boy was thrown from the contraption, his friends commending his effort with hoots and hollers. The boy, though dusting himself off, wore a wide grin as he rejoined his group, their camaraderie infectious.

I sighed, feeling a mix of reluctance and curiosity. “I’m not wearing the right clothes for that thing,” I said, the excuse as flimsy as it sounded. “Plus, I could break a bone or som—”

“You riding or not, darlin’?” came a loud voice from behind me.

Sarah’s eyes shifted to the voice, and I turned to meet the face of the commenter. He was a tall fucker – had to be over six foot with an overinflated ego. His boots were dusty, and his hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but I could still see the arrogance etched in his smirk. “Excuse me?” I replied, my tone a bit harsher than intended.

“You heard me,” he said, leaning casually against the gate. “You gonna give it a go or just stand there making excuses?” His cocky smile shone bright, and I could practically taste the mockery in his voice. “Too scared you're gonna break a nail?”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, not out of embarrassment but anger. I clenched my fists and took a step forward, feeling the rough texture of the ground beneath my boots. “Listen, cowboy,” I said, my voice steady despite the irritation bubbling inside. “I’m not here to play games or prove anything to you.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably beside me, her eyes darting between us. I could sense her unease, but I wasn’t about to back down. The man’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was stoking.

“Prove something to me?” he chuckled, pushing off the gate and taking a step closer. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to prove anything to me.” His eyes slowly moved up my body, lingering in a way that made my skin flush. “Just to yourself.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk centered on his chiseled face. Clearly, he thought he had me all figured out.

I turned back to Sarah, her eyes showing concern as I handed off my purse and coat. “You really don’t have to do this, Riley.” Her tone shadowed her eyes. “Tyler’s just being an asshole. He’s like that with all the girls in town—” She paused shortly. “You’re just the only one who’s ever talked to him like that.”

“Let’s see what you got, city girl!” The Tyler guy hooped, causing those close enough to center their attention on the situation.

Rolling my eyes, I hastily removed my purse, pushing the bag into Sarah’s arms. “You really don’t have to do this, Riley,” Sarah's voice now hesitant as she looked at me with concern. “We can just go somewhere else and have fun, forget about that guy.”

I shook my head in protest, my resolve hardening as I cast one last glance at the idiot across the room. His smirk fueled my determination. “No way. I’m not gonna give that jerkoff the satisfaction of watching me wuss out,” I declared, my voice tinged with defiance.

As I pushed up the sleeves of my designer shirt, a small act of rebellion that would have my mother clutching her inherited pearls in horror, I felt a surge of adrenaline. This was my moment to show that I was not someone to be pushed around, not someone to be intimidated by an urban cowboy fool at a fucking rodeo.

I confidently approached the bull, climbing onto the steel, gripping the handle with white-knuckled determination.

"Hold on tight, darlin," the elderly operator smiled warmly, his weathered face lined with experience and mischief. With a practiced hand, he flipped the switch, setting the mechanical bull into motion.

As the bull lurched forward, the world around me seemed to blur into a whirlwind of colors and sounds. The contraption bucked and spun with unpredictable ferocity, testing every ounce of my balance and resolve. I clenched the reins tightly, my muscles straining as I fought to stay atop the bucking beast. Sarah’s cheers blended with the roar of the crowd, a chorus of encouragement that spurred me on.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes, my focus narrowing to the rhythmic movements of the mechanical beast. Just as I started to think I might actually last the full eight seconds, the bull gave a particularly violent twist, sending me flying into the padded arena.

I let out a groan of both relief and exhaustion, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away as I managed to flip myself onto my back. As I lay there, breathing heavily, the cool night sky spread out above me like a vast, dark canvas adorned with twinkling stars.

Sarah's figure quickly loomed over me, her expression a mix of concern and relief etched across her features. With a swift movement, she crouched down beside me, her eyes scanning me from head to toe as if checking for any signs of injury.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry and care as she assessed my well-being.

I slowly nodded my head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I think so," I replied, my sentence trailing off momentarily as I gathered my thoughts. "Was that okay?" I inquired, seeking reassurance after the whirlwind of the mechanical bull ride.

Sarah's expression shifted from slight confusion at my question to a mischievous smile that lit up her face. "Are you kidding me, Riley?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with pride and excitement. "That was more than okay. You had Tyler Owens, the reigning rodeo champion, dropping his jaw so far to the ground that he's gonna need some help putting it back in place."

We shared a laugh as she helped me off the mat, my black slacks now dotted with dust and dirt.

"You did good, little girl," the older man remarked with a warm smile as we exited the gates of the rodeo arena. I shyly thanked him, feeling a surge of pride at his encouraging words, but my smile quickly faded as a tall stranger approached us, his hands casually tucked into his denim pockets.

"Wasn't expecting you to last a second, city girl," he remarked with a smirk that seemed to gleam in the dim light of the night. "Gotta hand it to you though, you make riding a bull look easy."

I met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, my own smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "Yeah, well," I retorted, taking a step closer to him, the adrenaline of the ride still coursing through my veins. "It's all in the hips, really."

My words hung in the air between us, a playful challenge laced with a hint of confidence. “Is that right?” His voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. “Gonna have to teach me your ways then.”

A flicker of a smile danced across my lips, “Me teach you-“ I took a step back. “From what I hear you’re a world-renowned bull rider, probably the best in the county, maybe even the state.” My words boosting his overstrung ego. “I’m sure a bull made of steel is no match for-“ I paused, tilting my head. “What’s your name again?”

“You know my name, darlin.” His words igniting a burn in my stomach.

He arched an eyebrow as I drew near, clearly taken aback by my sudden boldness. His cronies and Sarah exchanged glances, unsure of what was unfolding before them. I could almost taste the tension in the air, thick and crackling with anticipation.

Without a word, I stood before him, my gaze unwavering. The hint of a smirk played on his lips, a challenge in his eyes. But I held my ground, a silent defiance radiating from every fiber of my being. My hand slowly trailing up his flannel covered front, his breath hitching with each touch.

In one swift motion, I reached out and plucked the Stetson hat from his head, the symbol of his false bravado. Placing the hat atop my head, my smile smug as I looked up at him, almost daring him to take it back.

“You shouldn’t let strangers get too close to you, Tyler Owens,” I remarked coolly, the gravel crunching under my heels as I took a step back. “That’s a lesson us city girls learn at a young age.”

10:54am (2.21 hrs since arrival)

“I can’t believe it's been over a year since we’ve seen you and the little bean,” Lilly smiled warmly over her coffee cup, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and longing. “I mean, we get to talk to her on video chat, but it’s just not the same.”

I nodded in agreement, a tinge of guilt flickering in my chest. “Yeah, work has been so hectic, and I never know where you guys are gonna be, especially during the season. Tyler’s like a butterfly – floating wherever the wind blows.”

Lilly chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of understanding. “I know he misses her a lot –” Her sentence paused, a moment of hesitation flitting across her features. “Misses you a lot too.” Her gaze met mine, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and unspoken truths. “He still has that picture of the two of you nestled in his visor.”

The photograph that Lilly had taken two weeks after I found out I was pregnant with Caroline. The storm clouds black as night loomed behind us, a stark contrast to the brightness of our smiles that shone as radiant as the sun in the sky.

Tyler had insisted on capturing the moment, his easy laugh filling the air as he playfully teased about becoming parents. Despite the uncertainty and fear that lingered in the depths of my heart, his unwavering support and infectious optimism had been a beacon of light in the midst of the looming storm.

The diner's door suddenly swung open, and in walked Boone, a towering figure with my four-year-old daughter, Caroline, perched high on his shoulders. "Here she comes, Ms. America!" Boone's southern twang echoed through the small space, causing a few of the older folks to turn their heads in mild disapproval. Caroline's infectious giggle, so reminiscent of her father's, rang out as she played along with the theatrics, her smile radiant as ever.

I watched as the two of them made their way through the diner, drawing smiles and curious glances from the other patrons. Caroline's tiny hand waved enthusiastically at the strangers, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Boone, ever the playful uncle, hammed it up for her, making exaggerated gestures and funny faces that elicited peals of laughter from the little girl perched on his shoulders.

As Boone approached our table, I made space for him in the booth, eagerly awaiting Caroline's arrival. Her tiny hands reached out for me as I gently lifted her off his shoulders, her eyes alight with excitement. "Mommy, Daddy said I could go with him and Uncle Booney when the 'nado comes," she announced proudly. "Daddy said there's gonna be one real soon."

My eyes immediately darted to where Boone still stood, his gaze evading mine as he focused intently on the intricate pattern of the floor tiles. "No," I said firmly, my hand instinctively reaching out to gently grasp Caroline's pigtailed braid. "Sweetheart, it's far too dangerous to go with Daddy and Uncle Boone. You need to stay here with me where it's safe."

Caroline's face began to crumple into a disappointed pout, her lower lip trembling slightly. Her eyes, usually bright with curiosity and mischief, now filled with a mixture of defiance and longing. "No, Mommy," she protested, her voice rising in a blend of frustration and determination. "I want to go with Daddy!"

Her attitude shifted suddenly, like a fault line in an earthquake, her small arms crossing over her chest in a display of stubborn defiance. The tension in the room seemed to thicken as her words hung in the air, charged with the raw energy of a child's unwavering will.

I let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. My eyes flicked over to Lilly, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding.

"Caroline, I'm not having this argument with you," I said firmly, my voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. The tears that had been threatening to spill over now glistened in Caroline's wide green eyes, her lower lip quivering with unshed emotion.

"You're not going, and that's final," I stated, my tone leaving no room for further negotiation. The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of my words, the tension between us palpable.

Caroline's shoulders slumped in defeat, her small form trembling with suppressed emotion. A single tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek in a silent testament to her disappointment.

Lilly sat forward, her presence a comforting anchor. "Caroline, honey, Mommy is just trying to keep you safe. Sometimes we have to trust that the grown-ups know what's best for us, even when it's hard to understand."

“But you go with daddy to the nados.” Caroline's matter-of-fact statement catching Lilly off guard, her surprise evident in the way her brow furrowed slightly.

"Well," Lilly began, her voice gentle yet tinged with a sense of hesitation. "It's my job to go with your dad and help with the tornadoes. But if my mom told me not to, then I would listen to her and stay behind." Lilly and I shared a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.

We both knew her words were a facade, a carefully constructed lie meant to shield Caroline from the harsh realities of the world. Lilly's mother's disapproval of her association with Tyler and the gang was no secret, a source of tension that simmered beneath the surface of their relationship.

The chimes above the door sounded again as Tyler stepped across the threshold. His smile on display as he greeted those in the restaurant, sparking a conversation with the random patrons. “Daddy!” Caroline quickly stood on the booth’s seat, her arms waving in the air to get Tyler’s attention.

Tyler waved goodbye to his admirers, his smile growing even wider as he approached our booth. As he drew closer, I could already anticipate the first thing that would escape Caroline's lips—the reminder of how I had told her she couldn't go with him on a chase, a trait she had undoubtedly inherited from me.

"Hey there, sweet pea," Tyler greeted Caroline, his voice brimming with affection as he stepped behind the booth. Caroline's arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as he lifted her out of the seat with practiced ease. "Have you gotten something to eat yet?"

Caroline nestled her head against Tyler's shoulder, her small frame shaking with soft sniffles. Concern etched across his face, Tyler gently pressed, "What's wrong, baby?" He reached up to wipe away a stray tear that was making its way down her cheek.

"Mommy won't let me go with you and Uncle Booney for the nado chase," Caroline whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of disappointment and longing.

 Tyler's gaze, the same shade of green as Caroline, locked onto mine with a mix of curiosity and concern. "What's the deal, Riley?" he inquired, his voice gentle but probing.

My face betrayed my emotions before I could even formulate a response. A wave of unease and protectiveness washed over me as I struggled to find the right words to convey my concerns.

"The deal, Tyler, is that she's just a baby," I began, my voice tinged with a blend of firmness and vulnerability. "She doesn't need to be out in the truck, spinning around in a tornado. It's not safe for you and the guys, and it's definitely not safe for a 4-year-old child."

"I'm not a baby, mommy!" Caroline quipped, her voice filled with a mix of defiance and determination, catching me off guard.

My eyebrows raised in surprise at her unexpected retort. "Well, you're my baby, little girl, and like I said, it’s too dangerous to be out there with daddy. Maybe when you're a little older – say twenty –“

“Twenty!” Tyler exclaimed. “You can’t have her living in a bubble all her life, Riley.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as my jaw slacked in immediate anger, my eyes narrowing as Tyler stared back at me. "Excuse me?" I retorted; my voice edged with frustration. "Like you have any control of that, since I'm the primary parent here and you're just someone who comes and goes like the fucking wind you chase!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed as Boone and Lilly stepped forward, "Hey, little bean—" Lilly approached Tyler and Caroline, who was actually crying at this point. My frustration with Tyler causing me to forget that she was right in front of me in his arms.

"Why don’t you come with us and help us sell some t-shirts?" Lilly suggested, her warm smile aimed at Caroline, who sniffled and wiped away her tears.

Boone stepped lightly behind me, his easygoing demeanor a calming presence. "Yeah, who's gonna turn down an adorable kid?" he added with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

I hastily ran a hand through my hair as Caroline climbed into Lilly's arms, her giggles filling the room and momentarily easing the tension. Tyler's face remained stoic as he sent glares my way, the unspoken emotions between us hanging heavy in the air.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, I met his eyes with a mix of defiance and weariness. The complexities of our relationship, the unresolved issues simmering beneath the surface, were laid bare in that moment of silent confrontation.

Tyler's voice was low and filled with hurt as he spoke, "That was a really shitty thing to do, Riley. To bring that up in front of Caroline – make me look like a bad dad. Real nice."

I lowered my head in frustration as Tyler stormed past me, his steps purposeful and heavy. The hushed whispers of those around us mingled with the clinking of cutlery, casting a spotlight on our tense exchange. With a heavy sigh, I gathered my composure, steeling myself against the onslaught of prying eyes and whispered conversations. The weight of their scrutiny bore down on me, a reminder of the fragility of our private struggles in a very public setting.

[cailinsblog]

Young, Hot, and in Love |max verstappen

Max verstappen x reader

Masterlist

The sun was high, casting a warm, golden glow over the crystal-clear waters of the private beach. Max Verstappen leaned back in his chair, sunglasses perched on his nose, his tanned skin soaking up the sunshine. His girlfriend, Y/N, lay next to him on a matching lounger, a soft breeze teasing her hair as she sipped on a cold drink.

It was one of those rare days where neither of them had to worry about the pressures of the world—no races, no media obligations, just the two of them, the sound of the waves, and the endless stretch of blue skies.

Max let out a content sigh, glancing over at Y/N. She was scrolling through her phone, her lips curling into a soft smile every now and then. He couldn’t help but grin; even on their days off, she had this effortless beauty and charm that left him in awe.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Max stretched his arms overhead, his muscles flexing in the process. "You know," he said, his voice light and teasing, "I’m young, I’m hot, and this—" he gestured to the idyllic scene around them "—this is called heaven."

Y/N burst out laughing, lowering her phone and raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, is that so?" she teased. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?"

Max smirked, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "I’m just stating the facts, liefje. Young, hot, and living my best life with the most beautiful girl by my side. What more could a man want?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. "Well, I can’t argue with the last part," she said playfully, leaning over to steal a quick kiss.

Max hummed in satisfaction, his hand moving to rest on her knee. "Exactly. And here’s the thing—you make this heaven even better."

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. "You’re so full of it, Max."

"Maybe," he admitted, his grin widening. "But you love me for it."

She didn’t argue. Instead, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his as they both sat back and enjoyed the peaceful rhythm of the ocean waves.

---

Later, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, Max suggested a walk along the shore. Y/N agreed, and soon they were strolling hand in hand, their feet sinking into the cool, wet sand as the waves gently lapped at their ankles.

Max swung their joined hands lightly, his free hand occasionally reaching out to skip stones across the water. Y/N leaned into him, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You know," she said after a while, "I think you might be onto something."

Max looked down at her, his brow raised in curiosity. "Oh? About what?"

"This," she said, gesturing around them. "Being here with you, just the two of us, no distractions... it really does feel like heaven."

Max’s expression softened, and he stopped walking, turning to face her fully. "I’m glad you think so," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Because for me, heaven is wherever you are."

Y/N’s heart melted at his words, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You’re such a softie," she teased, but her eyes glimmered with affection.

"Only for you," Max replied, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "You’ve made me realize that no matter how fast life moves, moments like this are what really matter."

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the sky continued to shift through its stunning array of colors. Eventually, Max pulled back slightly, his playful side returning as he tugged Y/N toward the water.

"Come on," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let’s see who’s faster in the water."

Y/N squealed in protest as he took off running, splashing through the shallow waves. "Max! You know I’m not racing you!" she called after him, laughing as she tried to keep up.

Max stopped a few feet ahead, turning around with a wide grin. "I’ll give you a head start," he offered, his voice full of mock seriousness. "I mean, I’m young and hot, but I can be generous too."

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but laughing as she finally reached him. She shoved him lightly, sending a small wave of water splashing against his legs. "You’re impossible," she said, but the fondness in her tone was undeniable.

Max laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. "And you love it," he said, spinning her around before setting her down gently.

"I do," Y/N admitted, her hands resting on his chest. "I really, really do."

Max’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of the waves and the warmth of their love.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, a content smile playing on her lips. "This is definitely heaven," she said softly.

Max smiled, his eyes shining with love. "Then let’s stay here forever."

And as the stars began to twinkle in the sky above, Max and Y/N continued to enjoy their little slice of paradise, knowing that as long as they were together, they could create their own version of heaven wherever they went.

[qingxin-dream]

Scara relaxing on the couch with you<3 if u do NSFW having him cockwarm you so he can relax

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

summary | today was one of those days where nothing could go right. well, maybe, it’s been like that for awhile. and you know damn well that your loving husband was not about to watch you fall into despair. (art credits: unknown)

warnings | not proofread, reader has a mental breakdown, comfort, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, cockwarming, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, slightly possessive/dominant, marking, breeding kink, creampie

genre | modern au, comfort, smut

word count | 3k

pairing | husband! scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sky had been overcast all day, only putting a damper on your mood. Work has somehow become extra stressful lately with more and more responsibilities piling up. You felt the crushing weight on your shoulders with each passing hour and you couldn’t wait for the clock to hit 5pm.

The last place you wanted to be was at work, away from home, and without your husband, Scaramouche. Even then, your relationship was getting to a point where it was nothing more than bitter roommates. He had missions to complete while you were obligated to work every day. Someone had to be the breadwinner, after all.

Sweet freedom washes over your exhausted body when it’s finally time to go home. You rush outside only to find that the clouds had turned a nasty gray color and wet droplets of rain dotted your suit jacket.

Great, you forgot an umbrella.

The rain was really picking up now, your clothes soaked and your hair flattening into drenched clumps. Running through the downpour, you had to make it another block to your car until you got stopped at an intersection—narrowly avoiding the wave of water a speeding car almost splashed onto you.

Once you practically leaped into your car for safety, the sense of stillness that suddenly permeated the air brought you back down to earth. You were more than overworked. You were burned out, with hot tears freely streaming down your face in a choked sob. Gripping the steering wheel, you slumped your forehead onto your knuckles, shoulders shaking as you cried out all the pressure you had bottled up inside. The rain beat against the windshield, drowning out your agony.

Once you managed to compose yourself with a few sad sniffles here and there, you turned the key in the ignition. Tonight you decided to forget about everything. No stress. No work. Not even a single load of laundry. You couldn’t muster the strength for anything other than some sort of self-care or self-indulgence.

When you walked through the door with an expression bordering on despair, Scaramouche knew you had a rough day. He frowned to himself. Frankly, the distance between you two was a sore spot for him as of late and he was expecting you to lock yourself in the bedroom.

At first, he had been stubborn about the tangible separation pushing you further and further away from him. Foolishly, Scaramouche had tried to drown himself in his busy work and missions, simply trying to ignore it. But after a while, he realized that this damned feeling of alienation and being constantly on edge like some old married couple was ridiculous.

That’s not who he married or the life he signed up for, and Scaramouche found himself determined to finally act like you both loved each other for once.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you from the couch. Looking down at his casual sweatpants and shirt, you wished you could’ve stripped down and lazed around on the couch this afternoon. Sleep was something you desperately needed. He offers a small olive branch with his softened tone of voice. “Why don’t you get changed and come sit with me? I missed you.”

You drew in a hesitant breath. Perhaps it was your way of attempting to decompress before answering your husband or you were unsure of his intentions. The couch was definitely calling to you, and the prospect of your lover’s comforting arms enveloping you was even more tempting. In a haste, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag, nodding with a bit of a pitiful pout on your lips as you went into the bedroom.

Scaramouche perked up slightly upon hearing your return, making room for you on the couch so that he could spoon you just right. As you sat down, his hand immediately went to your hip and he found himself gravitating toward the comforting crevice of your neck. Your skin was colder than he expected from the rain but he was more than willing to share his warmth with you, his fingers venturing up the contour of your waist under your baggy shirt.

“There’s goosebumps on your skin,” he noted with an obvious smile in his voice. “Why don’t you take this off and let me warm you up, hm?”

You gaze at him over your shoulder, catching the subtle seductive intonation of his offer. Despite his pads of his fingers gently caressing and massaging your hip in encouragement, you weren’t entirely sure if you had it in you for too much physical affection. Most of all, you just felt tired.

Yet, Scaramouche always got his way. Maybe it was how the words rolled off his tongue that sparked your imagination in the back of your mind, or that mischievous gleam of excitement in his violet eyes. He had no problem catering to your needs, helping you slowly lift that baggy shirt over your shoulders and tossing it aside. He quickly did the same.

Suddenly, he ensnared you in his arms, burying his nose in your neck and sighing. The feeling of your back pressed against his bare, muscular chest was like a balm soothing his soul. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, surprised by his enthusiasm, and pull a heavy blanket over you both.

“Better get rid of these too,” Scaramouche suggested softly into the shell of your ear, tugging at the elastic waistband of your shorts. He generously nuzzled your neck, peppering a few kisses across your sensitive skin to distract you as he easily slipped you out of your bottoms.

Your whimpers were buried in your throat. You purposely tried to stifle it, but the little shiver of your neck and body against his ministrations couldn’t hide your true feelings forever. The slow drag of his hand up your plush thighs, over the round of your hip, and dangerously close to your breasts was merely a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Scara… please,” you murmur, sounding more like a faint plea for peace and relaxation. “My feet hurt so much. I don’t think I can move anymore, let alone do—”

“Shhh, love, you really think I’m going to make you do anything?” he asks rhetorically, the timbre of his sweet words deepening to a level bordering on husky. His hand travels back down the curves of your body with silent reverence, hoping to ease your worries. “I don’t think you realize how hard you’ve been working until it breaks you.”

With a click of his tongue, your husband continues to let his hand journey over every inch of your lovely form. Your breasts, your stomach, your pelvis, hips, thighs… If he was being honest, Scaramouche would never have thought he’d discover someone as perfectly imperfect as you. To not remind you of how much he secretly worships your whole being would be a grave sin in his eyes.

“I feel like I never see you anymore. We never talk anymore,” he mumbles into your shoulder blade, taking his time to kiss and nibble as much of your upper back as he could. You involuntarily arched your back, the sensation of his mouth along your spine sending pulses of electric desire through you. His voice shifts into a possessive growl. “And I miss my wife.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you weep dryly, rolling your head back to relax on him fully. Your thoughts instantly short-circuited at the revelation of his thick bulge pressing into the plush of your ass, tactically held in place by his fingertips digging into your love handle. You were so ready to just melt into him completely, to give in and let him take care of you.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” he quickly interjected to correct you. You could feel the smirk spreading on his face as he leans into you as much as possible. The back of his hand ghosts your inner thigh, nudging it to the side. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

You were hanging on every syllable that left his lips in a hushed whisper. A featherlight touch grazed near your outer labia, enough to capture your attention like a moth to a flame. That was all it took for him to push your mind over the edge. It was pathetic, really, how you were desperately trying to mentally fill in the blanks and imagine the pleasure of his slender fingers massaging your needy clit.

Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. He loved getting a rise out of you. Admiring the subtle contortion of your features in pleasure may be his favorite pastime. Tickling the insides of your thighs and skirting skillfully around the one place you wanted him most, he scoffed in amusement every time you sighed softly in frustration.

“I thought you were going to be nice,” you groaned impatiently, beginning to lazily roll your hips in rhythm with the intermittent brush of his fingers just shy of your cunt.

“I am,” he snickered into your collarbone, his hot breath pouring down your chest and thrilling your skin. “You can’t lie to me. I know you like when I tease you until you’re begging for me to stuff you to the brim.”

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you managed to defiantly buck your hips forward and finally feel the tantalizing glide of his index and middle fingers between your slick folds. The sweet victory ripped a lewd moan of your lover’s name from your pretty throat. To say you were utterly addicted to the sound of him parting the lips of your glistening pussy might be an understatement.

“Tsk, tsk, good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what you humans say?” Scaramouche mocks you lightheartedly, though his fingers don’t leave your clit. Rather, he circles the sensitive nub at a tantalizingly slow pace to earn another cock-twitching moan from your angelic mouth. “I could touch you like this all night… unless you’d rather serve your punishment on my cock instead?”

You were too preoccupied with the intoxicating pleasure concentrated on your aching clit, eyelashes resting on your cheeks and jaw slightly agape. Scaramouche chuckled deeply into your ear with satisfaction, returning his lips to your neck but this time with a little more force. His teeth sunk into you, intent on leaving a good bruise.

It would be a clear reminder in the morning of who you belong to.

He sucked a little harder, causing you to yelp in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. His words were muffled against your skin with a gentle scolding. “I asked you a question.”

“C-cock, please,” you nearly choke, starting to grind sloppily onto his hand for some sense of relief. His other arm underneath you tightened, essentially pinning you to the heat radiating from his body from behind.

“Whose cock?” Scaramouche grumbled jealously at your vague plea. He needed to know that you didn’t just want anyone’s cock to fill up your drenched, gummy hole. The intensity of his violet irises demanded an answer, glued to your blissed out and desperate expression. His fingers were hastily stimulating your clit as he intently watched you parse love and lust on the brink of an orgasm.

“Y-your cock! Please! I need it so bad,” you cried out loudly, the threat of tears lingering behind your eyes. He abruptly slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, and then shoved his hot, veiny cock pulsating with desire across your soaking wet entrance.

Scaramouche couldn’t stop the salacious groans under his breath, wanting you to hear all the ways you make him unravel. He was eager to drag the mushroomed, pink tip of his cock over your clit over and over, occasionally teasing your hole with the pressure of his length trying to nestle itself within you. But he never pushed it all in. Instead, he continued to gather your essence on his cock—the mere thought of cumming in your rosy folds like this and fucking it messily drove him wild.

“Don’t tell me… hnnnghh… that this is all you want, (Y/N),” he grunted with honeyed pleasure, grinding at a little faster rhythm. You were already nearing your climax again, whispering prayers and praises under your breath for Scaramouche to plunge into you and fuck you senseless.

His hand was still tightly covering your mouth, so you simply shake your head and moan breathily to ask for more.

“Mm, good girl,” he mumbles intimately, kissing your ear and nuzzling you affectionately again. “I know my baby is tired and needy, so I’ll let you be my little cocksleeve tonight, okay?”

You nod and hum against his hand enthusiastically.

He takes the opportunity to shower you with a few more kisses, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance once more. Your walls were already squeezing eagerly on the small inch of his tip inside you and he didn’t dare delay any longer. Scaramouche grabs you by the hip and buries the entirety of his thick cock in your slick tightness, his eyebrows crinkling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him like a vice.

“F-fuck!” Scaramouche curses sharply, bottoming out completely in your aroused cunt. “So good. S-so fucking good, yeah…”

“A-ah, yes! Mm…” you sighed raggedly with ecstasy, pure pleasure and relief washing over you. His huge cock was stretching you perfectly, the lips of your pussy sucking him in at every possible chance. Despite your exhaustion, your husband had wound you up so much that you begged for tiniest semblance of a thrust into your sopping hole. “Oh my god, p-please, fuck me.”

Without warning, you decided to selfishly fuck yourself on his throbbing cock, but Scaramouche instantly snatched your throat. He held you tightly against his pecs and craned your neck with a forceful grip so that you were facing the ceiling, your oxygen partially cut off. The submissive position had your spongy walls dilating in excitement.

“No, no, wait,” he chastised you, his voice cracking slightly at the end as he struggled to adjust to your greedy cunt. “N-Need I remind you, love? Good things come to those who wait; and if you’re lucky, I’ll cum in you.”

He couldn’t believe your pussy was still quaking around his girth, releasing your neck as you nodded obediently. Once he pulled you into him tightly with his strong arms around your stomach, Scaramouche nudged your legs closed so that you could completely envelope his cock. It was incredibly hot every time he shifted to get more comfortable and your walls only swallowed him further. His breathing calmed slightly, wanting to relax with you for the rest of the night deep within your cunt.

“I-It feels too good, Scara,” you whined, cuddling into the pillow on the couch and clutching the warm blanket to your chest.

For the love of Celestia, your body was so exhausted from work but at the same time you wished you had the strength to fuck him like crazy. You made a mental note to wake him up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your folds lubricating his hardened cock, sinking completely onto his impressive length when his pretty indigo eyes sleepily opened for the first time. You’d make sure to hush him and keep his sleeping mask on snugly, fucking him to your heart’s content.

But for now, your husband returned to worshipping the expanse of your soft curves, coaxing you to relax despite the occasional twitch of his cock inside you. Scaramouche’s voice was smooth as silk when he whispered into the crook of your neck, “See? That wasn’t so bad now. Why don’t you turn on your show and I’ll keep this pretty pussy of yours company for as long as you need, hm?”

You both melted into each other’s embrace, connected in every way imaginable for the first time in a long time. The sensation of your lover’s cock nestling into your folds slowly nudged your sweet spot, drawing breathy moans out of you. He thrusted slowly but deeply, marveling at the lust clouding your eyes pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Though Scaramouche was enraptured by the heavenly sound of your pussy slurping his cock, the need burning in his core was beginning to overtake him. “Mm, turn around for me, babe.”

He was gentle and attentive to you as he helped you face him, holding you firmly against his chest and quickly ensuring his cock didn’t leave your cunt for too long. As he stuffed you full, his mouth captured yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your hair, keeping your lips planted on his as you lazily swirled your tongue on his own and moaned his name.

“Nnghh, can’t take it anymore,” Scaramouche growled hungrily into your mouth, lifting your leg slightly to support you so he could delve his cock deeper. His tone trailed off in a quiet beg, “Lemme breed you, (Y/N). Please…”

“Mhmm,” you agreed without hesitation, cupping your lover’s cheek and kissing him with growing reckless abandon.

He was unequivocally smitten by your ardent claim to his lips, groaning lewdly into the kiss as he began to fuck your desperately pulsating pussy. His grip on you tightened, focusing solely on ravaging your walls until you were on the verge of screaming his praise.

“Hah, that’s it. Goddamn it, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he takes your lower lip between his teeth roughly, plunging ruthlessly and chasing his impending orgasm. “You can take it, you can take it, yeah… you better fucking cum all over me or else, I swear…”

You reeled him in with a firm tug of his dark purple locks, nearly crying in pleasure onto his tongue intermingling with yours. Moaning and whimpering like a whore, you clutched onto your lover like your life depended on it. “O-Oh my god, Scara, shit, I’m cumming! I’m… mmph, f-fucking c-cumming…!”

Scaramouche pounded his cock into your sopping release, a guttural groan escaping him as he generously coated your spasming walls with loads of his hot seed. He kept himself buried in your cum-laden folds, your erotic juices mixing around the base of his cock while he kissed you softly.

“God… you have no idea how much I missed you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

[pinknatural]

After googling “what to take to a stranger’s birthday party” and reading the top five articles thoroughly, the first two more than once, Castiel has determined that he should either bring candles, wine, or baked goods. 

A candle seems like a good, safe option, but the Walmart candle aisle is overwhelming. How is he supposed to know if Anna’s-friend-Dean likes oaky, woodsy smells versus lavender-linen smells? Castiel likes the one that smells like a waxy apple pie, but who’s to say that opinion is shared? What if he prefers pine, or something called Deep Twilight Mist? Castiel removes the lid for Deep Twilight Mist and smells the cream-colored wax curiously. It smells like the perfume Hael used to spray everywhere when she was eleven. He puts it back on the shelf. 

There’s a candle that smells like cupcakes. It is a birthday party, so perhaps he would like that. Castiel puts it in the blue plastic basket dangling from his arm, then puts it back on the shelf, tilting it so the label is facing perfectly outward. Maybe Anna’s-friend-Dean doesn’t like candles at all. 

Wine. Everyone likes wine. Well, unless Anna’s-friend-Dean is one of those guys who thinks wine is too feminine. Or if he doesn’t drink at all. Or if he drinks too much. Or, perhaps even worse, if he’s some kind of wine connoisseur and will mock Castiel for buying reasonably-priced wine from Walmart and then blacklist Castiel so thoroughly that he will never find a friend in this town. 

Wine and candles are too complex. But everyone likes baked goods. 

Castiel is stopped in the middle of the road, turn signal blinking to indicate that he would like to turn left into his apartment complex, when he realizes that Anna’s-friend-Dean could be diabetic. But the party is at a restaurant that specializes in hamburgers, so probably not. Hopefully not. All Castiel has to do is successfully implement chocolate chip cookies and then melt into the walls at the party. Be pleasant enough company that next time someone has a large event they allow Anna to invite him again. Go to enough social functions that he can claim to have friends and get Anna off his back. Live quietly, working at the Gas-N-Sip and writing papers about the science of Theology and perhaps even going to the library and reading secular fiction.

Castiel has no expectations of finding actual friendship at Anna’s-friend-Dean’s birthday party. Or ever, really. If he ever gets lonely, he can get a cat.

Anna thinks that Castiel and Dean will get along very well. Castiel thinks that living outside of their mother’s influence has made Anna believe in fairytales. Anna has known Castiel his entire life. She knows full well that he has never gotten along very well with anyone. 

Castiel cracks an egg over the batter. Maybe this whole baking thing will impress Anna so much that she’ll stop bothering him about making friends. 

Who knows, maybe these cookies will unlock something else to add to Castiel’s quiet life. He quite likes the idea of baking.

--

The firefighter is very beautiful. Maybe even the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, besides models on the sides of buildings who look so perfect they’re fake.

“You the guy who started the fire?” the beautiful firefighter asks. He puts his hands in his pockets. Castiel’s cheeks burn. Not from any fire. 

“They were just burnt cookies,” he says. “I didn’t know they would set off the smoke alarm.” In the entire building. The other firefighters are by the doors, writing things down, talking to other residents of Castiel’s building. How come the beautiful firefighter was the one who had to talk to Castiel? He sneaks a peek at the man’s arms, but they’re sadly covered by his coat. 

“You burned the cookies on purpose, then?” the firefighter raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course I didn’t,” Castiel says. The firefighter has green eyes and freckles splashed across his nose. Castiel wants him to take off his helmet so he can see what his hair looks like. 

“Right,” the firefighter says. 

“Am I in trouble?” Castiel asks. 

“No,” the firefighter says. He winks. Castiel feels his heart literally skip a beat. “Not a crime to burn cookies. Losing out on the cookies is punishment enough.”

“They weren’t for me,” Castiel says. “They were for a birthday party. Tonight.” For some reason, he wants the firefighter to know that he has a social life. Never mind if the social life was enforced upon him by his older sister.

“A birthday party? Today? Who’s hosting? I gotta fight for my honor.”

Castiel is baffled. What honor? What fight?

“What?”

“Everyone will come,” the firefighter says. He makes a pose, as if he’s flexing. “To see me and this other guy fight to see who’s the Supreme Birthday Boy.” He stretches one arm out, pointing it to the sky, then he opens his fist. “Pow! It’ll be me, of course.” He turns to look back at Castiel. His mouth is very pink. Castiel wishes he understood what words were coming out of it. 

“It’s my birthday, too,” the firefighter says after a moment, when Castiel doesn’t react.

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I dunno. Trying to be funny, I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel says again. Behind the firefighter, he sees that the other residents of his apartment building are filing back inside. For some reason, despite the January chill, Castiel doesn’t want to go back in. Not yet. 

“You know, usually this is the part where people say happy birthday,” the firefighter says. 

“Happy birthday,” Castiel repeats. 

“Thanks!” the firefighter beams. “So do you think I should crash your friend’s party tonight?”

“No,” Castiel says, alarmed at the thought. A firefighter, and probably a bunch of other firefighters, crashing Castiel’s opportunity to stand beside the wall, holding a cup of sprite? When Castiel shows up with store-bought baked goods? And this beautiful firefighter will point right at him and say that Castiel invited them and then Anna’s-friend-Dean will hate him forever, and probably Anna will too? “Also, he’s not my friend.”

“He’s not? Then why are you going to his party?”

“He’s my sister’s friend,” Castiel explains. “I’ve never met him. She thinks I need to leave the house more.” Too late, Castiel remembers that he was supposed to pretend he had a flourishing social life. Oops. 

“Wait,” the firefighter says. His eyes sparkle. “Are you Anna’s brother? Cas-something?”

“Castiel,” he says, with the patience of someone who has had to explain his name a million times. He narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?”

“Dude,” the firefighter says, laughing. “I’m Dean.”

Anna’s-friend-Dean is a beautiful firefighter, with green eyes and freckles? Anna’s-friend-Dean is the Supreme Birthday Boy? Anna’s-friend-Dean probably has very muscular arms, under his uniform?

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” the firefighter says. 

“Winchester! Wrap it up!” one of the firemen calls from the truck. Castiel realizes that all the firefighters are about to leave, and everyone from his building is already back inside. When did that happen?

“Be there in a minute!” Dean hollers over his shoulder. When he looks back at Castiel, he grins almost shyly. “You were gonna make me cookies?”

“Yes, I--I thought it would be an appropriate thing to bring.” Castiel wonders again if Dean could be diabetic. Or perhaps allergic to something in chocolate chip cookies. Are chocolate chips made in a peanut-free facility? Maybe Castiel should’ve bought wine, after all.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says. “Whoever said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was dead-fuckin’-on. But, uh.”

“But?” Castiel is sure, suddenly, that Dean is about to reject him and tell him not to come to his birthday party after all. Which would be a shame, because all of a sudden Castiel wanted to go.

“My favorite dessert is pie,” Dean says like a confession. 

“Oh,” Castiel says, eyes widening. Maybe he can swing by the bakery--maybe he can look up a bakery, and then swing by it--on the way to the party. Assuming he’s still going. 

“And, uh, not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty mean one. I actually made myself a birthday pie, and I was gonna eat it alone, but maybe…I mean…”

“Yes?” Castiel asks. Dean is slightly taller than him, so he tilts his head back to meet his eyes. Dean swallows. Castiel watches his adam’s apple bob.

“Well, I could swing by after my shift is done,” Dean says. “Bring it with me. We could share. Before we go to the Roadhouse, I mean. If you want.”

“I want,” Castiel says before he can think about it. He snaps his mouth shut. Dean brightens. 

“Great,” he says. “I’ll be back. After my shift.”

“When does it end?” Castiel asks. Dean looks at his watch. He grins at Castiel, tongue poking between his teeth.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. 

“Okay,” Castiel says. “I will you soon, then.”

“Yep,” Dean says. “Gimme about an hour, okay? And then we’ll have pie.” 

“Okay,” Castiel says. Dean turns to head back to the firetruck. “What kind of pie?” Cas calls after him. Dean turns. 

“Apple!” he calls. Castiel stands outside, in the January chill without his coat, for a long while after the truck leaves. What a strange man, making his own birthday pie. What a lovely man, sharing it with a stranger. Supreme Birthday Boy, indeed.

--

When Dean returns, in a soft flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing his magnificent forearms, his hair a spiky mess that Castiel wants to run his fingers through, he has, as promised, an apple pie. And Castiel has a present for him. 

When Dean opens it, he laughs until he almost cries. He lights it right away, and the lingering aroma of burnt chocolate chip cookies is chased away by the apple pie candle from Walmart, a bright, steady little flame flickering between them.

(ao3)

[eiightysixbaby]

sunscreen and chlorine

word count: 3.5k

pairing: lifeguard!eddie x fem!reader

summary: things get steamy during an unbearably hot day at the hawkins pool.

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI - SMUT. oral (m receiving), sexual innuendos with a popsicle, sex in a public place, unprotected p in v, creampie, billy is mentioned in this lol. lmk if i forgot any!

author’s note: lifeguard!eddie has been invading my brain for days so here, have this.

It was hot. So, so unbelievably hot. The kind of heat where you step outside and feel like you can’t breathe for a second, where the air feels thick and heavy and sweat clings to your skin relentlessly. There was no breeze, none at all, just stagnant heat lingering. Naturally, just about everyone in Hawkins was at the community pool, dying for a way to cool down. Bare feet walking on hot pavement, vibrant swimsuits almost blinding in the sun. Brightly colored beach balls being tossed around in the water as screams and splashes rang out. Eddie sat perched in his lifeguard chair, bright red swim trunks covering his bottom half, stopping a little bit above his knees. A black tank top rested on his torso, clinging tight to modest muscles. Even in the blistering summer, Eddie wasn’t one to parade around with his shirt off. Much unlike Billy, who would take any chance he could get to be wearing as little clothing as possible, showing off his biceps to the suburban mothers who’d fawn over him. Bored women who married boring men that they felt close to nothing for, all for the sake of having that nuclear family, now dying to relive their teenage years. Eddie would occasionally throw scandalous remarks their way when they’d whistle at him, but for the most part he didn’t bite.

Eddie was honest to god sweltering, to put it lightly. The shade from the umbrella attached to the chair provided little comfort for him, but at least it kept most of his skin from receiving direct sun exposure. He’d already applied sunscreen several times, rubbing the white cream all over just to sweat it off a half hour later, and then repeat the process. His pale skin was unforgiving in the summer months, quick to turn an angry red if Eddie wasn’t careful about being in the sun. There’d been one too many occasions where he’d sat perched on the kitchen counter after hot summer days, Wayne rubbing aloe on his stinging skin. Sometimes Eddie isn’t sure why he chose to have a job that required him to be exposed to the elements so often, but hey, it pays the bills.

He peered through his sunglasses at all of the patrons in the pool, wishing he could feel the cool water on himself. His hair was pulled back into a low bun, keeping the heavy curls from making his neck too warm. He kept himself occupied any way he could, blowing his whistle at kids who insisted on running around the pool grounds despite several signs warning not to, laughing to himself when they’d slow to a walk, staring up at him with guilty eyes. Sat high on his perch, his eyes scanned over the various suspects down below - teenage girls sprawled out on towels, pretending like they weren’t absolutely miserable in the sun as they tanned their skin, Jason Carver walking towards the pool with Chrissy Cunningham over his shoulders, laughing in protest about the water being too cold, Billy flirting excessively with anything with a pulse instead of watching the pool. Eddie huffed a sigh, for as busy a day as it was, there was very little for him to actually do. Not that he wanted to have to, you know, save somebody from drowning today or something, but he was just bored. Ninety-five percent of the town’s population had to be here today, and yet none of his friends were around to keep him entertained. He was hot, he was cranky, and he just wanted to go home and unwind. Needed to smoke a joint, maybe rub one out, and go the fuck to sleep.

After yelling at some teenager to stop dunking unsuspecting people under the water, he resumed his people watching. His whistle sat loosely in his mouth, Eddie absentmindedly fidgeting with the silver metal between his teeth, whispers of that shrill chirping sound fighting their way out of the object every time he’d exhale too hard. Pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them on top of his head, his brown eyes roamed over the grounds until they landed on you. He recognized you, remembers you from high school though you two were never close. A pretty thing - you always have been - sprawled across a lounge chair, one leg crossed over the other casually. Water droplets dried on your skin, and the ends of your hair were wet, indicating your recent swim. You had a popsicle pressed between your lips, sticky red juice melting down your hand, the heat affecting the sweet ice too fast for you to keep up with. He doesn’t fully realize how hard he’s been staring until your eyes catch his, and you cock an eyebrow at him. He feels his cheeks heat up, for once from something other than the sun, and is about to just scamper down from his chair and into a hole in the ground before you wave at him, fingers delicately wiggling his way.

He gives you a casual wave back, fully catching the smile that you try to cover with your hand. Your eyes are unwavering on his thin frame, taking in his pale skin that’s littered here and there with tattoos. Gaze pausing on the soft muscles in his arms, trailing down to the fabric of his swim trunks, bunched up just below the waistband, concealing the rest of him that you’d very much like to see. You notice that he doesn’t stop looking at you, either. Eddie shamelessly lets his eyes rake up your legs, the vibrant pink of your bathing suit complimenting the rest of you. He swears his heart almost stops when he meets your eyes again, noticing the sultry look in them as you slowly push your popsicle past your lips once more. It almost completely disappears in your mouth before you pull it out, excruciatingly slowly. You lick it from bottom to top, tongue flat against the strawberry flavored treat, eyes never leaving Eddie’s.

He feels his cock twitch slightly in his swim trunks, suddenly finding it incredibly hard to focus on doing his job. You knew what you were doing, and you weren’t about to back down from what Eddie could tell. The dense heat was getting to his head, his brain turning to mush as he watched you. Juice from the popsicle slowly trickled down your chin until you wiped it with your fingers, proceeding to stick the index and middle in your mouth, sucking the sweet syrup off. Eddie shifts in his seat, subtly adjusting the fabric of his swim trunks, trying to conceal the bulge growing beneath them. You notice the awkward movement, lips twisting into a smirk as your mouth resumes its work on your popsicle. By the time you’ve consumed the entirety of the cold treat, pulling the last bit off the stick with your teeth and letting it melt in your mouth, Eddie is uncomfortably hard. He’s pulled the bright red rescue tube that was once secured at the side of the lifeguard chair over his lap, which wouldn’t seem like a calculated maneuver to anyone except you. You know the effect you’ve had on him, and he knows you’re enjoying it. Now that you’re done putting on a little show for him, he’s not sure what to do next. Was that it? Seductively eat your popsicle for him and it’s over, resume his shift as normal? He couldn’t exactly shout across the way at you to ask for your number - or at least, he didn’t want to make an absolute buffoon of himself trying.

He didn’t have to deliberate for long before he caught you jerking your head to the side, eyes following in the direction of the changing rooms and showers. You stood slowly from your chair, making sure he got the hint, before walking towards the big blue door to the women’s changing rooms. He couldn’t help but admire the way your ass looked as you walked away from where he was perched, soft flesh peeking out around the fabric of your bathing suit bottoms. Eddie was fully aware of the fact that fooling around with you at his place of employment in the middle of his shift was probably not a wise idea, but fuck it. He couldn’t hold off any longer. Gangly legs climbed down the steps of the lifeguard post until his feet hit the pavement below, almost immediately protesting at the heat coming from the concrete. He walked quickly in the direction you had led him, pulling his shirt over his head and bunching it in front of him to conceal the horrendously obvious tent in his pants. He approached Billy who gave him a questioning look.

“Cover for me for a few, man,” Eddie said quietly, for only Billy to hear, shoving the rescue tube at the shorter man for him to take.

“What?” Billy asked, stumbling back ever so slightly as Eddie presses the red safety equipment into his chest.

“Just fucking cover for me,” his voice was firm, and he walked away before Billy could say another word. The other man huffed an annoyed sigh as he headed for the lifeguard chair.

Eddie stepped cautiously into the changing rooms, not wanting to startle any unsuspecting pool patrons, but was pleasantly surprised when the only person he found inside was you. You leaned against a wall nonchalantly, twisting a lock of your hair around your fingers, smiling warmly at him.

“Hey, handsome. Decided to join me?” your voice is playful as you eye him up and down.

“That little show you put on sure was something, sweetheart,” Eddie says lowly, stalking slowly towards you.

“Just wanted to get you all worked up for the real deal,” you smirk at him, and he swallows a lump in his throat.

“Give me one sec,” he says quickly, turning on his heel.

Eddie heads back towards the door, grabbing the maintenance sign that sits in the corner. It reads, ‘Sorry! Temporarily closed for cleaning. We apologize for the inconvenience. -Hawkins Community Pool Staff’. He posts it on the outside of the door, letting the heavy metal swing closed behind him. Best to cover all of his bases here, he certainly doesn’t want any kids getting scarred for life today.

“We don’t exactly want an audience, now do we?” he asks as he walks slowly back towards you.

“No, no I guess not,” you reply, index finger bent with the nail between your teeth, a nervous habit shining through your casual demeanor.

Eddie stands mere inches away from you, breath fanning your face every time he exhales. He finds it hard to contain himself, wants nothing more than to have his hands on you. He steps even closer, looking down at you, loose strands of hair falling from his bun. He discarded the shirt he’d been holding onto the floor, and you find your eyes trailing down to his crotch, the slight bulge beneath the brightly colored fabric looking ever so appealing. His big brown eyes watch you intently, searching for any signs of your discomfort.

“You sure you want this?” he asks, voice steady.

“Yeah, ‘m sure. I’ve secretly been wanting you since we were fucking eighteen, so,” you laugh lightly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Shit, you could’ve been teasing me with popsicles this whole time?” Eddie jokes, reaching his hands out and letting them gently rest on your hips.

You’re quiet, just admiring the soft freckles on his face and the warm brown of his eyes and those full pink lips. Eddie notices the way your eyes linger on his mouth, and his lips curl into a wicked grin.

“What’re you looking at me like that for, honey? Need something?” Eddie asks, teasing, his face so deliciously close to yours.

“Think I’m in serious need of mouth to mouth…” you say, trying to tease him back but your voice is breathy.

In an instant he’s swept you into a kiss. He groans softly as your hands climb up the back of his neck, tugging on his hair where it meets his scalp. His head is swirling, still fuzzy from the early July heat and now from the feel of your soft lips on his. You smell like sunscreen and chlorine, taste like artificial strawberry flavoring. Your lips are passionate yet gentle in their movements against his, and he wants to melt onto the floor for someone to mop up later. The kiss deepens rapidly before Eddie finally has to break away, the temperature in the large room growing to be unbearable. You read his mind before he can even say anything, and pull him into a shower stall, turning the water on to a comfortably cool temperature. You close the curtain behind you, and when you turn back to face him you drop to your knees, hands grabbing at the soft fabric of his swim shorts.

Eddie feels like he’s floating, like the scorching day got to his head and he’s having some weird fever dream hallucination. The feeling of your fingers ghosting over his happy trail and hooking under the waistband of his shorts brings him back down to earth. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tug the swim trunks down, his cock springing free a couple inches from your face. You’re mesmerized at the sight in front of you. He was big, longer than most you’ve seen but less thick. His cock seemed to stare you directly in the face, flushed pink tip leaking pre cum. A small patch of dark curls rested at the base, and his heavy balls hung low beneath. You lick your lips, cool water from the shower falling in small streams over his shoulders and down his chest. The smooth tile floor is hard against your knees, you’re sure they’ll be bruised and sore tomorrow. You grab the base of him, tapping the tip of his cock on your tongue a few times, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. Eddie hisses, grabbing fistfuls of your hair with his hands.

“Don’t be a tease, honey,” he growls down at you, and you look at him innocently.

“Me? Never,” you reply, taking the head of his cock in your mouth in one swift movement.

He inhales abruptly, then lets out a sigh as you slowly bob your head on his cock, adjusting to the warm feeling of your mouth. You take him as deep as you can, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. Eddie groans in response to this, pulling tighter on your hair, silently begging for you to do it again. You oblige, letting the head of his cock abuse your throat, mouth wide open for him.

“Fuck, baby, feels so fucking good,” Eddie’s voice is deeper than before, his eyes dark as they watch your movements.

You lean down further, sucking his balls into your mouth, letting your tongue roll over the stretchy skin. He genuinely yelps, surprised at the contact, eyes squeezed shut. You smile to yourself before sucking them into your mouth once again, Eddie’s whines and whimpers echoing throughout the walls of the building. You bring a hand up to toy with his balls as you redirect your mouth’s attention to the swollen tip of his cock, practically pleading for you to take it past your lips. Eddie’s in shambles as you lick and suck his sensitive head, cleaning the salty pre cum off with your tongue. You take him fully into your mouth again without warning, eliciting moans and curses as he steadies himself with one hand on the shower wall. The contrast between the cold water hitting his back and the sticky humid air tickling the skin of his chest made his head spin, the warmth of your mouth engulfing him only adding to the varying sensations. He feels himself inching closer and closer towards release, and he abruptly grabs your chin and pulls you gently off of him.

“Can I fuck you, baby? Need to be inside that pussy,” he’s trying to maintain his composure but the words come out like a whine, like he’s desperate for you.

You nod as you look up at him, admiring the water droplets that fall from his bangs and the tip of his nose, pussy throbbing between your thighs as his cock rests inches from your face.

“Use your words, pretty thing. Tell me I can fuck you,” Eddie coaxes you, pulling you to stand in front of him

“Yes, Eddie, please. Want you to fuck me,” your eyes are pleading and it makes his cock twitch.

He wraps his arms around to your backside, signaling for you to jump. He holds you securely, back now pressed against one of the shower walls, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips are on yours instantly, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth with fervor as you whimper for him. His mouth travels down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Hot tongue licking your sticky skin, the faint taste of sweat lingering. He pushes the wet fabric of your swimsuit bottoms to the side, lining himself up with your entrance. He kisses you deeply as you feel him slide into you, stretching you open just for him, velvety walls snug around his cock. He groans into your mouth, pushing himself slowly in to the hilt, and your nails claw at his back in desperation. The stretch is so good your toes curl, your body begging and screaming for more.

“P-please, Eddie, oh my god,” you whine, Eddie’s lips now attacking your neck.

“What, honey? What do you need?” Eddie purrs, big hands squeezing the soft flesh of your ass.

“Need you to move, fuck me rough Eddie, please,” you beg him, clinging to him like a vice.

He gets his bearings on the slippery floor before rutting up into you, slick sounds of wet skin on wet skin bouncing around the shower stall. Eddie gasps as his cock fills you once more, every thrust reaching so deep, his thick fingers pressing into your smooth skin as he supports your weight. You can hear faint screams and laughter from the pool outside, and the reminder of the way no one on the outside knows what Eddie’s doing to you in here makes you dizzy with desire. Eddie’s grunting with every snap of his hips, hair frizzy and bangs sticking to his forehead, a panting mess as he fucks you like his life depends on it. You’re sure your lower back will be sore after this, every jolt to your body ramming you against the wall, but you’re too drunk on Eddie to care. The way your legs are wrapped around him opens you up for his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you, and you’re screaming his name as he pounds relentlessly into your sopping cunt.

“Yeah? Feels good, baby? You like having my cock deep inside you?” Eddie rasps into your ear, hips moving at an unforgiving pace.

The friction against your clit as his body moves against yours paired with the way his cock hits your favorite spot inside of you has you approaching your release rapidly, your body aching to let go. Eddie’s close, too, moaning out strings of curse words and praise as your walls suck him in.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey, where do you want it?” he asks breathlessly, brown eyes blown wide as they search your face.

“Inside, need it inside,” you choke the words out, so blissed out it’s hard to speak.

Eddie picks up his pace, hips stuttering as he lets himself go. You feel his cock twitch, warmth spreading inside you as he pumps you full of his cum. Your orgasm hits you the second you feel him fill you, clenching around his already spent cock, milking him for everything he’s got. Eddie presses his forehead to yours, releasing the harsh grip on your hips as he gently sets you down. Your legs tremble, cum leaking out of you and dripping down the insides of your thighs. You rinse them off with the water from the shower head, before turning it off.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Eddie pants, pulling his swim trunks up before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“When do you get off work? Maybe you could come over after,” your voice is shy as you suggest it.

“I’m the closing guard tonight, actually. Sooo… I could totally get fired for this, but if you wanted to come back here around 8pm after lock up, I could give you some, y’know, private swimming lessons,” he smirks, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

“Count me in, baby. I think I’m gonna be needing lessons weekly, though…” you trail off, heavy lidded eyes looking at him as you twirl his hair around your fingers.

“I can work with that,” Eddie grins, pulling you into a kiss.

As the heat of the day eventually fades into a hazy nightfall, Hawkins residents slowly filing out of the pool and returning home, Eddie thinks of nothing but you. Billy almost slugged him for leaving him in charge for so long, but in Eddie’s book it was worth it. Sure enough, at 8pm on the dot, you saunter towards the gate to the pool. In your left hand was another popsicle.

Eddie was sure you’d be the death of him tonight.

[dorabellingham]

Out of blues

warnings: Bad words, nudity and sexual insinuations

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: spending some time with your boyfriend in Ibiza

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The sun was shining brightly that summer morning in Ibiza, and the beach was busy.

You and Jude walked barefoot across the warm sand, the sound of the waves gently crashing against the shore creating a peaceful atmosphere. You were enjoying every minute of the trip, enjoying the freedom and each other's company. You were wearing a neutral-colored bikini, almost matching your skin tone, and Jude, as always, in simple, relaxed shorts, without a shirt. He refused to put on sunscreen, as he always did, claiming that "I didn't need it" and that "my skin could handle the sun", despite his protests.

—Jude, you're going to burn yourself! Said, shaking your head with a smile while holding the bottle of sunscreen, trying to convince him for the fifth time that morning.

He just shrugged, carefree, and continued walking along the sand, his broad shoulders already beginning to shine in the bright sun.

—Ah, I'm fine, bae. I don't need that.

You laughed, giving up on insisting, knowing that he would end up regretting it later. You applied the sunscreen to yourself, covering your shoulders and face, while he watched you with a mischievous smile.

—You'll see, Bellingham. You'll regret it later, and then I won't let you use mine. He laughed, shaking his head.

—If I get burned, I'll apologize. But I'm fine. Everything will be fine.

You found a perfect spot on the sand, and you laid out the towel as your boyfriend ran towards the water. He quickly dove into the waves, squealing with happiness, and you watched him fondly, laughing at how he always looked like a little boy when he was free to have fun. After a while, he came back from the water and lay down next to you, both relaxing in the sun, exchanging relaxed conversations about the trip and what they would do later. The warmth of the sun and the sound of the waves created a feeling of peace.

But as the morning progressed, it became obvious that Jude was starting to feel the impact of the lack of sunscreen. His shoulders were noticeably redder, and he began to shift uncomfortably in the towel.

—Okay, Y/n, maybe you were right... —He murmured, turning to the other side to try to avoid the pain.

You looked at him, unable to hide your pleased smile.

—What, Victor? I didn't hear it right. Can you repeat?

— You were right, okay? I should have put on sunscreen.

You laughed, sitting next to him and poking his shoulders lightly.

—Ah, babe, so now you admit it. Well, I would even let you use my protector now, but... too late!

Jude made an exaggerated grimace of pain and rolled his eyes.

—Okay, I deserve it. You can laugh at me.

And you actually laughed, having fun with his stubbornness and the situation. You were in one of those moments when everything was light, easy, and the connection between you seemed natural, as if nothing in the world could interfere with that bubble of happiness you had created.

After some more teasing and laughing, Jude suggested you go back into the water to cool off. You nodded, eager to dive back into the sea and get rid of the heat of the sun. You ran towards the waves together, Jude with his carefree way, and you trying to keep up with him, although you always laughed at how much faster and more agile he was.

When you reached the water, a strong wave suddenly formed. Bellingham dove into it without thinking twice, but you, who were right behind, weren't so quick. The wave hit hard, catching you by surprise, and you was pushed back. When you managed to balance yourself again, noticed something strange. With the splash of the water, the lace of your bikini had come loose, and the top was hanging down, leaving you exposed to your boyfriend and anyone else around.

—Oh my God! —You screamed, desperately trying to hold the bikini with one hand while using the other to cover your chest. Jude, who had just emerged from the water, looked back and saw the scene, bursting into laughter.

—Love, are you trying to seduce me in the middle of the sea?

You was panicking, trying to tie your bikini back on with one hand and looking around, nervous that someone might have seen it.

—Stop laughing and help me!

But Jude couldn't stop. He was doubled over with laughter, and even if he tried, the sight of his girlfriend desperately trying to hold on to her bikini was too comical for him to contain his laughter. Besides, it affected other parts of him, but the beach was not a comfortable place to have sex. So, he needed to get rid of that agonizing feeling.

Finally, after a few moments of struggling, you managed to tie the bikini back on, and with your face red, not only from the sun, but from embarrassment, you looked at him with an expression of pure indignation.

—You are impossible, Jude!

Said, crossing your arms and still trying to cover your breasts to ensure that the bikini was secure. He approached, trying to look contrite but still smiling.

—I'm sorry, babe, but... You looked so fucking delicious with your wet hair and your breasts out that I had to laugh to distract myself!

You lightly slapped his chest, but he could no longer keep a serious expression. You ended up laughing too, shaking your head.

—I can't believe this happened...

—Next time, I'll hold the top for you.

You rolled your eyes, but was smiling again.

—You better hold on, because otherwise I swear I'll kill you.

[eevees-hobbies]

um um um Eve I had a bad day today and I was wondering if you could (please feel free to ignore me if you’re not interested or I’m annoying!!) write something about some of the windbre boys showing off their chubby gf 👉🏼👈🏼 they can get smutty or stay wholesome, whichever is easier for you. Maybe ume, togame, sakura, endo, and hiragi? Idk if that’s too many people. I hope you’re having a great day!!

Author’s Note: Hi, Anon! I’m sorry to hear you had a bad day,and even though I’m fulfilling this request a few days late (sorry!) I hope that the little piece below makes you smile even a little bit. I’m a thick girl myself, so I love when writers talk about readers' curves, rolls, cellulite, big asses, BREASTS, BIG THIGHS (oh my). Also, please don’t say you’re annoying because you aren’t and never could be, babe 💕. Sorry for not writing for Endo yet (I still haven’t gotten to him in the manga!). I enjoyed writing this. Sakura, please marry me!

Content Warning: Made with fem! reader in mind :) Reader x Haruka Sakura, Reader x Hajime Umemiya, Reader x Toma Hiragi. It's fluffy, except Hiragi does try to sneak something inappropriate in there. Also, tw: for body insecurities.

Word Count: 892 (it’s not about size, it’s what you do with it!)

Dividers by Saradika

Haruka Sakura

Quite frankly, Sakura is tired of your bullshit tonight. You’ve been acting out of the ordinary, hiding behind him, avoiding eye contact with others, and talking barely above a whisper.

“What is wrong with you?” His dual-colored eyes search yours for any indication of what might be your problem. 

“You haven’t given me shit all night, and it’s startin’ to make me nervous!”

You briefly let out a small laugh, but it’s so barely detectable that Sakura can’t savor the sound. 

You open your mouth but avert your eyes from him. “I…I’m being dumb, but I don’t like the way this dress feels on me. I shouldn’t have worn it, and now people are s-staring at me…”

Sakura looks around at the packed bar. Sure, he notices glances, but he knows what it’s like to be looked at as though you’re shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe, and that’s not what he’s seeing. He leans closer to you, his face so close that you can see the individual hairs of his eyelashes.

“Look at me. Everyone’s looking at you because you’re fucking gorgeous, and if someone did have anything to say about your dress,” he pauses, “my new favorite dress, I’ll kick their fucking asses!”

You look up at Sakura in pure adoration, love, and devotion—feeling the insecurity wash away as he looks down at you as though you are the only person in the entire world that matters–and to Haruka Sakura, that’s the case.

“The man that you are, Haruka.” 

Hajime Umemiya

You stand nervously in the bathroom of Cafe Pothos as you splash cool water on your face. You feel on the verge of passing out as anxiety grips your throat and chest, making it hard to breathe.

Quick but soft knocks at the door break you out of your panic attack, and Umemiya’s soothing voice reaches you, “Y/N, my friends are here. Are you ok, babe?”

You are not ok.

You’ve been dating Umemiya for months, and everything had been perfect until he planned a meet-n-greet with his friends. Residual insecurity from partners who were cruel after their friends disapproved of you and what you looked like set you into a spiral that you couldn’t break out of.

But it’s now or never.

You pull open the door and give him your best attempt at a smile for someone who was just having a panic attack in a public restroom.

Umemiya knows exactly what’s going through your mind without you having to say it, and despite his constant praise of you, he understands that sometimes actions are far more effective.

He grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the central area of the cafe, where all of his friends sit. You want to crawl into yourself as all eyes are on you, but before you shut down, Umemiya speaks first.

“Guys! This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Please don’t embarrass me in front of her; she thinks I’m cool.” 

Hiragi offers a kind smile, “Well, she’s going to be disappointed because there’s not a cool bone in your body. Nice to me ya, Y/N. He talks about you all the time.”

Your eyes get wide as you look up at a blushing Umemiya. 

“Really?”

Someone you recognize as Tsubakino chimes in, “All the time, and who can blame him when you’re so cute?”

“Hey, guys, leave the complimenting my girl to me, please. Not trying to have you steal her.”

You feel Umemiya’s hand squeeze yours, and your shoulders relax as you wonder what you were worrying about to begin with.

Toma Hiragi 

Hiragi sighs heavily as he listens to the continuous chatter of Umemiya who is giving a long-winded update on the state of horticulture efforts across North America. It’s a random topic, but Umemiya is in hyperfixation mode, and there’s no stopping him once he gets started.

You’re sitting with them, trying not to let your mind wander in case there’s a pop-quiz on the subject.

Hiragi looks at you and rolls his eyes with a smile; you manage a barely silent giggle in return.

Twenty minutes pass, and the torture ends; as Umemiya squeezes out of the booth and you stand up to allow him to pass, Hiragi follows suit, placing a hand on your stomach and giving the soft flesh a gentle squeeze almost on instinct.

Your face heats up because surely Umemiya saw that, but if he did, he says nothing as he waves goodbye to you both.

You quickly turn to Hiragi once Ume is out of sight, “Toma! Why’d you do that!?”

His brows furrow in confusion at your sudden outburst, “do what?”

“You grabbed my stomach in front of Ume and it was NOT an innocent grab!”

“There you go, being a pain in my ass again. What are you talking about? Ume knows you’re curvy, everyone knows, and I’ll be damned if I let you police my squeezing of you in public.”

“You are an undeniable pervert that should be on a list with other perverts!”

He shakes his head and pulls out his gas-kun10. For someone that he loves beyond a shadow of a doubt, you still somehow manage to stimulate the wrath of his poor digestive system.

“You owe me for that smart-ass remark, girl. You can sit on my-”

“TOMA!”

[hitlikehammers]

Steddie Missed Connection AU

feat. Craigslist-trawling-wingwoman!Robin + earnest-LA-transplant!Steve + rockstar!Eddie ✨ inspired by this actual Craigslist love story

It’s always about a 50/50 shot when Robin starts making her little back-of-the-throat squealing noises. Up to a certain pitch, Steve could pretend he had his AirPods on noise cancellation mode.

Once she reached fire-alarm-screeching levels, it overrode the settings and boom: he lost his fall guy.

Thanks, Apple.

But that’s where they are, and the squealing plus the screen in her hands, plus the way her leg’s bouncing against the table they’re both sitting at—which would have overrrode Steve’s AirPod excuse in about a minute because she’s gonna start splashing his glass of orange juice in a hot second—but all of it lumped together?

He’s lucky he’s retained his athletic reflexes post-high school—maybe only because of being joined-at-the-hip with this particular platonic soulmate, really—because by the time she’s swinging her iPad from its case to plop right down in front of him?

At least he’s quick enough to save his overnight oats from becoming aluminum-flavored when she drops the goddamn thing down without warning—caseless, the heathen—and makes indecipherable noises Steve thinks he’s maybe only heard at the zoo as she taps her nail with an migraine-inducing click on the screen.

Steve…supposes this means he’s obligated to look.

He sighs, fully expecting a dumb meme or a ‘cute TikTok’ because he knows who he fucking lives with; he reaches across the table and unfolds his glasses—really, assaulting him with this before he can even get his contacts in…

And it’s a…webpage. Like: just a webpage. A boring webpage, even. Definitely not matching up with the…squealing and table-sized earthquake of bouncing knees. He squints, tries to make it make sense.

Oh. Wow. He didn’t…

Steve did not actually know Craigslist still existed, let alone that people still used it. He was pretty sure the things for sale were always just kidnapping plots with extra steps, and then also that finding a person you walked past that one time was an FYP problem to solve. But.

Here, in front of him, in black and white and honestly like no other color:

Steve squints; it was posted this morning, but only just. Like 4am. So the last afternoon for there to be a one o’clock hour was—

Yesterday.

His yesterday was uneventful. Went shopping with Robs. Filled up the freezer and overbought shit again so they had a kind of massive and wholly mismatched dinner with the leftovers nearly popping open the fridge door. Can’t take the Midwesterner out of the man or woman, apparently.

Definitely nothing like the day this poor soul on a maybe-less-dead-than-presumed website had had. But Steve won’t pretend his heart doesn’t clench a little when he finishes reading because…it’s cheesy.

But Steve’s always been into that romantic…stuff.

“That’s very sweet,” he lands on commenting before passing the tablet back to Robin, who’s staring at him with frankly terrifying eyes. Like: lost-your-fucking-mind eyes.

“Steven.”

“What?”

“Steven.”

“Robin.”

He won’t even pretend he doesn’t jump with the metal slams on the wood where Robin narrowly misses flipping his bowl of sadly-abandoned oats with her iPad again when she slaps it down in from of him and points frantically yet again.

“Look at the location.”

Steve tilts his head.

Oh. He’d just looked at the time. And it’s not like the location in the title was…unique on its own.

“Huh,” he huffs with a shrug when he sees their part of the city listed in the main link up top. “Coinkydink.”

Robin’s growl starts deep, like a diaphragmatic thrum and Steve would be terrified of her if she were anyone else.

As it is: he’s only mildly unsettled. Specifically because the growl rumbles so…long.

Like at least a minute before she screams bloody fucking murder:

“My hair was in the buns!”

And the way she screeches it, and the maniacal twitch of those eyes…she’s saying more than those words, with those words.

Which means Steve has to put in effort to follow her coded message style of communicating, fucking hell. He hasn’t even eaten his breakfast.

He tries to think it through, at least manages to down his glass of OJ so it can’t be a sacrifice to flying iPads when he thinks he…

“Wait.”

Steve frowns. Robin just blinks.

“You don’t,” he shakes his head, or starts to, it’s a slow motion thing; “you don’t like honestly think,” but even as he’s saying it, the look in her eyes starts to make sense, and answers for him:

“This is not about me.”

Because: seriously.

“We were laughing!” Robin is immediate with her rebuttal, still in her screeching era. “No one else was there!”

“Because we specifically time our shopping for when people are at lunch on a weekday,” Steve counters quick, tries to cut her off at the pass; “a statistically slow window of opportunity for us to debate the list!”

“We write the list to avoid debating,” Robin answers in a more sedate, be reasonable now, dingus tone before she shakes her head and scowls and:

“Stop distracting me!”

Yep, back to the screeching.

“Why were you even on that fucking site?” Steve sighs as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

“Steven,” Robin says again in that fucking tone that always means he’s missing the biggest, far-more-important point but does jack shit to help him find it.

“Robina.”

“Not my name, eww.”

“Well, now you know how I feel when you make up a middle name for me,” Steve sticks his tongue out very maturely to her scrunched up face: “they’re never even nice ones,” he adds, because they’re really not; “and I do know that was your next move so,” he smacks his hands opposite the screen on the table in front of him in victory as he crows:

“Denied.”

“This isn’t basketball,” Robin’s working her tongue around her lips inside her mouth, which is always deadly foreshadowing; “you didn’t block my shot or whatever—“

“Didn’t I?” Steve pushes because, well, one, he did, and two, the original conversation was absurd even for them.

“Maybe it was so empty because his security was there.”

Steve frowns. The tone’s too…even. No. No: too haughty.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I said he looked like a rockstar,” she leans to grab back her tablet and poke near the top, obviously switching browser tabs: “so I did some digging.”

“Robin, what city do we live in?” Steve asks as she works, because yes, Steve remembers seeing a very hot fucking dude staring less in their direction than looking dumbstruck-lost as hell, and he’d considered walking over to ask if he needed help—Midwestern transplant to the bone—which was accompanied by the stray I’d fuck that gorgeous toothpick silly, but in the paper product aisle, like on the 48-count pack of Charmin, he looks soft under all that leather—then both thoughts were swiftly abandoned when the toothpick’s eyes met Steve’s and Steve maybe had to force himself to finish laughing at a joke he can’t remember now, that Robin told, because his skin felt like it was burning a little except the sun had poked behind a cloud, and his throat, it had like, it had just, it—

It just felt…weird.

He does remember that.

“But we don’t see rockstars every day,” which is fair, their neighborhood in particular is less music biz than others.

“Plus, look at this!”

Then she’s shoving the iPad back in front of Steve: it’s a TMZ shot or some other pap photo that’s more than half blur. It is indeed the parking lot at their Costco. And it does…feature a toothpick-esque figure looking similar to the one Steve remembers, but it’s more from the back than the side. And like, anyone can wear that much black in the summer. It’s a free country.

“And look at him!”

She split-screens to a Wikipedia article about a band even Steve’s heard of, if not for listening to them himself. It…he glances at the paparazzi shot.

Lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin Sighted Getting Groceries Just Like Normal People in Mar—

And then he looks back to the wiki: okay. Same band name. The guy with the guitar in the photo looks…

He has the same hair.

“Don’t tell me it’s just coincidence.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“It is just coincidence.”

“Steve.”

Steve feels his face sour.

“I know that tone,” because he does. It never leads to things he enjoys.

“You’ve thought about him.”

“He was gorgeous,” Steve thinks he surprises her with his honesty but like, what does he have to gain by lying? Plus:

“LA’s is like the plastic surgery capital of the fucking world, it’d be kinda sad if a lot of people generally weren’t pretty.”

“He wasn’t that kind of pretty.”

And fuck if they don’t share a brain cell; fuck if she doesn’t see right through him.

“And that’s not why you’ve been thinking about him.”

And fuck if she doesn’t know Steve, far too well.

“I never once said I’d been thinking about,” he hears the words and knows they’re weak, goddamnit.

“You never had to,” Robin smiles a little and taps an annoying finger at the screen again, that’a somehow flipped right back to the Craigslist ad thingy.

And she’s actually not entirely right, because he hadn’t thought much about the gorgeous toothpick man with curls Steve wanted to be smothered by, suffocate in like a pillow. But when he did?

He’d thought most about how he looked soft, on the inside. Thought wild and idiotic things like maybe his soft could match Steve’s soft when no one else’s ever had and he was always left bruised for it, more than once near-unhealable, and maybe they could, like, if their softnesses matched, then like—

Something.

But Steve always comes on too strong, wants too much, hopes to hard and way too fast, though this shit might take the cake, there: so it was idiotic and he’d left that train of thought to derail on its own and—

Did that come on too strong?

His gaze snags on the words, those exact words up on the screen and he’s very tempted to start growling deep in the pit of his stomach, take a cue from Robin’s absurdity.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Steve asks, looking pointedly at the clock on the microwave: he knows she does. Pottery making. For self-edification.

She scowls but looks—swears colorfully because it’s later than she thought as she jumps up and goes to presumably…do whatever she does in the bathroom to get ready to leave and look her lesbian-luring best before she gets smattered in wet clay.

Steve remains unclear on whether that look’s more or less attractive to the specific ladies she’s trying to bait.

Either way: it prompts Robin to drop her one-woman campaign insisting Steve’s soulmate of the romantic flavor is calling our desperately into the void of the internet. But it also, however, has the…side-effect of making the time itself an obvious thing. 11:09.

Rob’s gonna take the car, she’s got…supplies and stuff.

Why that’s important is…lost on him.

He could debase himself and brave the bus, if he got off at Washington and—

What the fuck.

What. The. Fuck.

Steve very forcefully shoves Robin’s iPad back across the table and doesn’t think about anything, especially not the numbers, like the number 214, like two hours and fourteen minutes until—

Steve nearly chokes himself on his fucking spoon with how violently he shoves it, full of oats, between his lips. As if he can shut his brain up as easy as he can his mouth.

It…actually kinda works. He might have chipped a tooth.

——————

In the end, Steve is proud of himself for being reasonable and having standards. He doesn’t take a fucking bus to meet a stranger in a Costco parking lot, Jesus Christ. Come on.

He books an Uber.

(And yes, he and Robin agreed no solo Ubers for a month to save up to have the air conditioner looked at before it copped out on them because their landlord only gave a shit if it was dead-dead and yes, maybe she’d gone so far as to put their account on a hold you had to call and remove to avoid temptation—though of the two of them, she definitely had the bigger problem—but little did she think on the fact that while you had to link a phone number, you could just use Google Voice and make a new account and no, Steve’s not insane, or a hopeless romantic, or almost-asking-for-heartbreak-on-the-regular, thank you very much.

He is resourceful. And it’s only like $15 with tip. It’s a quick ride.)

He asks to be dropped near the back of the lot, and takes the walk up slow. Almost goes the long way, straight into the store. Almost turns back entirely.

But then he sees those curls.

And his throat does the…the weird tight thing for no fucking reason, and his feet don’t ask permission to walk in the direction of the man standing…less dumbstruck, now. Even from the back it’s clear.

Now: he’s waiting.

Steve can barely breathe, can’t fucking swallow for the state of his throat, but his feet still aren’t waiting for permission, so it’s only fucking seconds before he’s close enough to catch a whiff of cologne and then—

“Sorry,” Steve ducks around the man from behind and reaches out automatically to steady him when he startles. “Hey, sorry, you just looked like maybe you were looking for something?” Steve smiles as open, as reassuring as he knows. “Just wanted to check if you needed any help.”

Keep it casual, Steve, keep it fucking friendly and extra polite and—

“Oh my god.”

The guy barely breathes it out, his eyes so wide, and Steve doesn’t know why he hasn’t moved his hand from the guy’s arm but Steve can feel the electric current that runs through him, like the finest grade of trembling. And electricity, right, it travels. Conducts.

In case you felt your heart skip just one beat, didn’t even have to full-on stop—

And even that proximity to this man is nothing compared to hearing his voice, low and a little syrupy even as he stares in shock, in disbelief—and oh. Oh, but what was it the guy had written in his post? About feeling the earth move a little, or like, rewiring your cells just for meeting eyes?

Steve, he’s…

Yeah. Yeah.

Okay.

“You’re here.”

Steve blinks, rocked back to the moment to deal with the new tilt of the globe and the spontaneous realignment of his insides later. This guy’s looking at Steve like he’s unbelievable, like he’s miraculous, like he’s…

Sunshine.

“I’m here?” Steve asks, a little breathy, a little curious.

“I,” the guy swallows, lips shiny as he bites at them, fucking adorable; “I saw you, umm, yesterday and I maybe, well, possibly I wrote some,” he fumbles and sounds like he’s building up to eventual hysterics, so Steve acts wholly on instinct and reaches further now to catch at both his hands.

“Relax,” Steve breathes out with a smile, and doesn’t overthink smoothing his thumbs over the guy’s knuckles, just in case it soothes him.

“My friend,” Steve lets go with one hand and grabs his phone to show the page he’d loaded on the ride here; “she was convinced it was you, about me. I wasn’t, so,” he shakes his head quick when something falls in the guy’s face, something dims: oh, umm, no.

He cannot have that.

“Not trying to catch you out or something,” Steve exhales it warm, as reassuring as he can, with his whole chest as he grabs the guy’s hands in both his own again—since he seemed to not mind; “just,” and Steve shrugs even as he smiles a little, less self-deprecating with it than he’d probably have landed on if the guy hadn’t reacted to Steve’s hands on his by clinging back so tight:

“Just a little hard to believe, is all.”

The man barely lets the words settle before his jaw drops almost comically and he demands, high-pitched and somehow still rumbling, something commanding in it nonetheless:

“How?”

Like it’s unimaginable. Like Steve reading that post and walking into this lot and striding up to a perfect stranger—who may or may not be very famous but that’s actually not even a little bit of the point—but a stranger who would want to see him—

But then Steve’s meeting the guy’s eyes again; hadn’t wholly realized he’d been staring at their hands more than anything. Those eyes are like the night sky, swirling and endless and sparking in the right slant of light, and Steve feels them like a welcome, like a cushion of the stars, like a safe landing in a chaotic universe.

He doesn’t even know this man.

But he thinks…yesterday. Yesterday, his heart didn’t stop, not like this guy had written, but Steve understands now what it did do instead, the thing he did remember, the tightness in his throat: his heart didn’t stop.

It just surged upward and took up residence to pound at his trachea where it tripped instead. Which is kinda where he’s back to right now.

“Could I,” the guy’s voice is rough, shaky, and so is he, Steve feels it where he’s still got his hand gripped firm; “would it be too much to ask if I could hug you?”

And he huffs a breath, and it sounds too….too small, like he’s afraid or ashamed and it pings something hateful, but so much more protective in Steve’s blood just to hear it as he confesses on a end of an exhale:

“I just want to know if you’re real.”

And Steve didn’t grow up a hugger, but he sure as shit’s grown into one; he’d be one of those people standing in the city with a ‘Free Hugs’ sign without much convincing. But this guy.

This man in front of him who may or may not be famous, is definitely a stranger either way save that he poured out some lines on the internet that maybe exceeded the term ‘heartfelt’ by a mile, who may or may not be standing in here, inside this moment, for something like fate because…Steve did feel it.

Maybe he didn’t think twice about the immensity it could have, not in the moment, because he’d been shopping, and Robin’s story was funny and maybe he was just struck by his luck in living a life with his platonic soulmate and knowing joy; surely your heart can trip for that and just because it never had before, just because it did this one first time when he crossed eyes with a genuinely beautiful man who left Steve with half-a-second’s certainty that looking any longer would flay wide this unknown person’s soul for Steve to sift through: but Steve felt things like that easy, always had. Romanticized nothings like it was a profession.

But it never hit like this had, has—is—before, if indeed this is actually anything—

And Steve’s heart is still tripping but it’s back in his chest, and he knows it because where he’s pressed against this guy’s kinda-gasping chest, now, close and tight? Maybe Steve’s never paid attention before, or maybe Steve’s just never…touched like this before, even if all they’re doing is hugging in a fucking parking lot.

But.

He’s pressed there and his heart’s tripping in his chest and he knows it wholly and fully because he can feel this man’s heartbeat next to his own—and where it should be a battle, because it’s pounding, both of them are, one side literally against the other?

It feels like a caress. It feels like, like…

Steve closes his eyes tight because they start to sting with the single word it feels like: impossible, absurd, but…

Here he is. He’s never felt someone’s heartbeat pressed up against his own before. Definitely never felt—never dreamt—that it could feel like it fits.

He leans back when he thinks he’s got a hold on the hopelessness of his tender-hearted absurdity, but the guy is staring at him already when he does and suddenly Steve’s got a handle on absolutely nothing except his pulse jackrabbiting some more but then also feeling…like it lost something. Like it’s not complete.

And the man, he’s staring with those eyes so wide again but now it’s like he’s…it’s kinda like he knows. He knows his eyes are going to let Steve flay him wide open.

It’s like he’s begging Steve to…look. To look and less to take, and more to…have.

Maybe, maybe to keep?

And…how?

“Do you feel it?” the guy whispers, those deep dark eyes so big: just these vulnerable, bleeding hearts on main. “Even just—“ he tries to walk back, to open it all up wider, desperate and hopeful and Steve hears all of it because it’s all written in the same key as all that Steve knows, all that Steve is. Somehow.

Somehow.

So Steve blinks, too many times before he grabs the man harder and drags him in again to hold, hold, hold until the heartbeat on either side of Steve’s ribs is reaching for the other, touching. Until they’re holding on, too, and once they do, then he can whisper, warm and maybe wet in the crook of this man’s neck, this stranger who’s holding onto his heart now, unfathomable, as he speaks words he doesn’t have to think about first to know they’re going to shift the world again, this time so they both can know it in the souls of them together, all at once:

“I feel it.”

For @hbyrde36, who requested 'Missed Connection AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth

divider credits here and here

💫 ao3 link here

[gatitties]

Web of love

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: your worst night followed by a wonderful day, are you slowly going crazy? Maybe, but you'll get out of here no matter what

─Warnings: blood, self-harm, anxiety attack, hallucinations, obsession, toxic behaviors, stalking, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

The blank pages: Part One / Par Two

YOU TRY to control your shaky breathing, no one would take away the poor quality of sleep you had at this point in your life, but having nightmares right now was the last straw that broke your patience.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your face was slightly wet because you needed to splash yourself to clear your thoughs, the cold water didn't help much anyway, you slapped your cheeks with moderate force hoping the feeling of mental numbness would go away, but again it didn't work.

"What the hell is wrong with me…?"

You touched your right cheek, slightly red from the previous blow, focusing your gaze on the reflection of the sink mirror, you were a complete disgust, never, not even in your worst period of exams, had you seen yourself so emaciated, the dark circles and bags under your eyes, the lack of color in your face, your frizzy hair, its lack or decrease, bloodshot eyes… you could continue to despise yourself while you stare at your reflection for hours, bringing out each of your flaws.

But there was one that bothered you beyond your appearance, your lack of emotions, your lack of thoughts, you refused to show anything other than a blank expression to those people who ruined your life, you refused to have to think complex things while they took care of everything, not being able to do anything on your own you began to stop complicating your life by thinking about solutions.

Who were you? What were your goals? Your tastes? When did your memories start to become blurry? When was the last time you really smiled? Were you real? Or just a corporeal desire of psychopaths eager to have something precious to protect? Since when was everything so gray, so monotonous? Did you still consider yourself a person with rights and freedom? When did you start accepting this?

"Hey… Hey!"

Focusing your lost vision again in the mirror, you weren't very surprised that you were hallucinating after having a brain as soft as baby food, it was you, maybe a couple of years younger who was speaking to you through the reflection, your mouth opened but no words came out as if you were a fish out of water.

"What's happening? Is this the future that awaits me? You're pathetic! Look at you… Where the hell is your stupid smile? You used to smile a lot before, why…? Why have I become a puppet?"

Your words mixed with a murmur, feeling how your heart squeezed painfully in your ribcage, your mind deciding to continue the macabre game of your existential crisis, replaying memories with your family and all the warm moments that kept you sane until now. You closed your eyes hoping that the hallucinations would disappear, but you only managed that instead of visuals they were audible, reproducing words of affection from your parents in a loop like torture, the breathing exercises you did before to calm yourself stopped working now, you bit your lip so hard that you ripped off some skin, not enough for you because you started running your nails down your arms, leaving red marks from the friction and force.

"You're better than this, what's all this whining about?! Get up and stop being a coward! You will only drag me into this meaningless future!"

"Shut up…"

"Are you even worth anything? You're so boring, I don't understand how those sorcerers want to protect you."

"Shut up."

"Are you going to cry to sleep like always? You are a disgrace, you are lucky, lucky that someone can love you so much, what would you do without them? They are much better than your own parents, accept it, accept it, they love you unconditionally! Even without knowing who you are or how you feel, even without knowing what your purposes are, they will love you! Accept your desti-"

"I said shut the fuck up! Silence!"

You shook your whole body, holding your head, you hit it a couple of times against the wall, so hard that even a couple of tiles fell off, a few drops of blood fell from your head, but you didn't care, the voice, your voice, it was gone, you swallowed your own poison, locking your inner, dark thoughts deep in your brain.

Your mind continued numb for a couple more minutes where all you could hear was a faint sound of static and a constant beeping, but it was more calming than having to listen to your own voice in that twisted way. Getting up once you calmed down a little, your reflection returned to normal, you splashed your face with cold water again, cleaning the blood on your head, nails and lip, taking one last look at your pitiful person, with your head still full of unknowns.

"Why is this happening to me?"

You rub your eyes tiredly, cleaning up the mess you had made, you decide to lie down on the cold bed once more, tucking yourself in and looking at the ceiling waiting for your body to magically disintegrate into ashes, too pretty to be real, when you realize the rays of light make your eyes hurt and sting, one more sleepless night, a new day awaits.

Faking and ignoring your nighttime crisis you get up to do your morning routine, being greeted by an overly cheerful Nobara as you passes through the dining room to look for some breakfast, you couldn't say the same for Megumi, who looked much more tense than normal, you didn't know where the others were but you didn't care much either, and Nobara and Megumi didn't say anything about your appearance, whether they noticed it or not, you're just glad they decided not to ask anything.

"You look like you've experienced the worst existential crisis of your life."

You spit out what you were drinking when you heard Maki just enter, from her appearance you could tell that she had gone out for a run early in the morning, Toge and Panda followed behind her, everything fell into a silence that was too uncomfortable for you because they stared at you carefully, completely ruining your efforts to hide your bad appearance.

"Just a bad dream…?"

You mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze, Toge approached you, patting you on the head as if that would help you, although it was the most comforting thing you felt this week, it didn't feel as forced as other interactions.

To your relief, everyone continued with their things, while you ignored what they were talking about and continued eating breakfast, their talk became louder than usual, you frowned at this, deciding to listen lightly to the conversation, you froze when you remembered what they were talking about, the Kyoto school exchange, even though you didn't sign up for that stupid ceremony, as a student you had to, at the very least, be present, but you knew that a large concentration of sorcerers would only cause you more problems than solutions.

You knew why Megumi seemed so tense when the other students showed up, they didn't seem to have a very friendly relationship, they all seemed quite focused on the rivalry between high schools, which made you happy since the focus of attention wasn't on you, but rather in Itadori since he seemed to be targeted by the Kyoto school just for being Sukuna's vessel. The bad thing was that you had to stay in the teachers' room, with Gojo and a couple of other guys, the good thing was that you fell in love, Utahime was your spirit animal, definitely someone to admire just for her hatred of Gojo.

"So, why don't you want to compete? I can tell that you have quite a bit of accumulated cursed energy."

"Aww, meeting my favorite student? Well that's a delicate topic she doesn't-"

"I'm not talking to you, shut up."

You smiled internally when you saw Gojo's kicked dog expression, who didn't even let you talk to Utahime, she looked at you again, completely ignoring the albino's presence, it was, the first time since you arrived here that you felt like you were having a normal conversation with someone outside your life, someone disinterested in your protection, it was the most real interaction you had since then and it had to be ruined, not by Gojo, not by any student… curses, a planned attack, a lot of chaos was caused that you barely understood.

"Don't fight and don't try anything weird, although I'll know anyway, stay safe!"

It was the last thing Gojo said to you before leaving with the others to see what was happening outside, you couldn't have cared less about his words, and although locking you in your room was the main idea, your wires got crossed with your little sanity, if everyone was distracted by a greater evil you could use that to your advantage.

Since both sorcerers and curses were completely absorbed in their stupid fight, you used that to go outside, first it was a couple of meters, you didn't notice anyone, the capsule didn't stop you from leaving, so you walked further away, elated by your minimal achievement, you started running as fast as you could, reaching the busy streets of the city, smart enough not to go near the places Nanami frequented.

It had been a long time since your heart had been beating like this, so wild that you thought it might come out of your throat, you coughed for air once you stopped in a park, collapsing on the ground, you lied there, you laughed like a crazy person, some tears escaping of your eyes as you looked at the sky brighter than ever. You couldn't believe it, you were alone, with no one watching, you could feel all the positive emotions hitting you, there were so many sensations that you didn't know how to feel, but definitely much more relieved.

The smile on your face was indelible, you were happy, the world at this moment was painted in much more vibrant tones, the palette stopped being a constant tone of gray, you smiled at children, the elderly, you caressed animals, you bought a few flowers and then randomly give them to some people, completely in a bubble of happiness.

Although the bubble had to burst at some point, whether due to your subconscious or the pass of time, you knew that your sudden disappearance would only cause more of a stir, you wish you were left for dead, but you know those sons of bitches wouldn't have that in mind unless they saw your death with their own eyes or found your inert body.

Using your last moments of happiness, you decided to treat yourself to some of your favorite sweets, saying goodbye to the clerk who served you with one of your best smiles, you took the long way to the jujutsu high school, hoping to delay your reunion with your "loved ones" as long as possible.

"Stop there! Aren't you the missing girl? You've given us an incredible headache, come on, I'll take you back."

Someone you hadn't bothered to meet grabbed your wrist, pulling you without even waiting for you to react, analyzing her appearance, she was quite similar to Maki, maybe a family member.

"What a pity, sorry for the headache, but can you let me go? I know the way Maki number two."

At this moment the least you wanted was a confrontation, but your mood had not completely dropped, although now you were a little more upset than happy, your emotions overflowed, causing you to be a more sarcastic and sassy version of yourself.

Mai stopped instantly when she was called Maki number two, you had definitely found her weak spot, which turned into a passive-aggressive chat between the two of you, you would have been angry, but you couldn't be angry when you enjoyed the criticism you were giving each other, honestly it improved your day and you felt more human than before.

"Oh thank goodness you're fine! I thought those dirty curses had kidnapped you!"

Nobara didn't waste a second in hugging you as soon as she saw you, Itadori following her a second later, you assured them that you were okay not wanting everyone to crowd around you as the others also wanted to ask where you had been and why you disappeared when they were under stroke.

You drowned out the emotions you poured out during the day, swallowing everything, turning your expression blank as you felt Gojo's powerful gaze on you, everything calmed down for the next few minutes, the two schools finished the meeting and the Kyoto students left, before that you decided to exchange phones with Utahime.

Once you got rid of your companions, you locked in your room, unlike many other nights, you threw yourself on the bed, grabbing a cushion and screaming as if you were one of those teenagers in love in those saccharine series, you moved your legs in the air by pressing the cushion tighter between your arms. Changing your posture, you looked up at the ceiling just like the night before, with the big difference that now you couldn't contain your emotions, you giggled, biting your lip lightly, not noticing the wound you got earlier.

You saw it, you saw light at the end of the tunnel, ─not that way of course─, you saw how a door opened before your eyes, a new opportunity to free yourself from the chains that kept you captive with all these psychopaths, experience freedom after so much time made you delirious, made you imagine that you could get rid of them, that they would leave you alone, even if it was risky, your only option was to escape, run away from everything and everyone without thinking twice, without thinking about what can happen in the future, you would give everything to re-experience what you felt today when you ran away.

You sighed dreamily as you remembered the feeling of freedom, closing your eyes, not worrying about whether you were going to be able to fall asleep today or have another boring game of chess, oblivious to the blue eyes that watched from your window.

"It seems like someone is in her rebellious stage, maybe she need some restrictions…"

He muttered, unhappy with your disobedience but excited to see you happy, he didn't think he would see it so soon, your smile was beautiful just the way it was and you decided to hide it like that for them? They were only worried about you, why did you have to keep all that to yourself? They wanted to be part of your happiness, couldn't you understand it? Well, they will make you understand it no matter what.

Once he made sure that your breathing was stable, he entered your room, kissed your forehead like every night, only this time he sat next to you, caressing your head slowly, observing how, even while asleep, your silly smile was still painted on your face, the flash of his phone made you frown slightly, but you didn't wake up.

"I hope you rest well today, I'm sorry for not helping you the night before, but if I had come in you would hate me more, wouldn't you?"

He said to himself, closing the door slowly, giving you one last look before leaving, he sent the photo to the group chat he had with his students, reviewing the last photos where any of the four were able to capture something more emotion than indifference. Just like you, the small display of emotions only opened another door for them, that small display of freedom for you and emotions for them, was simply another trigger for your problems, after all, the more you move, the more you get tangled in the web.