#rawr lifts

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon filling in for the PT while he's off sick:

"Although the movement of Romanian deadlift feels ver'ical, the emphasis of the movement is horizon'al, so to avoid lookin' like a cunt, you jus' need t' think fuck the bar, show it a good time." As he shoves his hips forward for emphasis.

Price doesn't put Simon on that rotation again.

[hellishvxbes]

I never actually figured out what everyone’s grand dislike of personal blogs came from.

I think maybe I just don’t give enough fucks but personals have always been fun to me. Especially back in the day, like it was pretty okay? Even now, I love when they liked my headcanons, or reblog thoughts I have about things. Those things never bothered me.

It made me feel more seen than I do in the RPC sometimes 😭 I know everyone has their preferences but me personally (lol) don’t have a problem.

Reblog memes from me, I couldn’t care less if it’s from the source or not. Like my posts, I like the validation lmao. I just !! Tumblr rpc has gotten so ughhhh since I was a youngin on here myself, sometimes you look back at how everything has changed 😭 thing even I do that I hate. Ya know like TAGS. Bane of my existence.

Or worrying about my aesthetic when we didn’t really give that much of a fuck about it back then. 3 way roleplays being much more of a thing.

I do like how this fandom does the dash com, like every can jump in and make a post about whatever seems to be happening. I think that’s one of the reasons I struggle sometimes with tumblr is that I’m very much in the past. And miss what community felt like before we were all kind of tip toeing around each other.

[rawrenjoyer]

i'm looking at old pics and it's crazy how fast my slut-i-fication was post top surgery

[woso-dreamzzz]

Zoo

Jessie Fleming x Child!Reader

Niamh Charles x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: A day out with Jessie and Niamh

"Jessie! Jessie! Niamh!" You call out, practically skipping down the front steps of the house, wiggling out from under Pernille's arm to crash into two of your favourite people.

"Careful, princesse!" Pernille yells after you but you ignore her.

Niamh laughs as she catches you, lifting you easily up onto her hip as Jessie gives the run down of what you're doing today to Pernille.

You get a bit impatient though because you already know where you're going and what you're doing so Niamh puts you into the car.

"What are you looking forward to today?"

"Tiger!" You say," Rawr!"

"I think the tigers are a great idea," Niamh says, throwing the car in reverse just as Jessie slides in and does up her belt.

"Jessie!" You say," Tigers go rawr!"

There's not a lot of time spent in the car because Niamh pulls up to the zoo fairly quickly and Jessie helps you out of your seat, holding your hand like she's Momma when she doesn't want you running off in the car park.

You're a bit impatient though and pull a little but Jessie doesn't mind as she gets you through security.

"I think tigers last," She says," So they're the last thing we see."

You grumble a little because Jessie is like Momma sometimes, making you wait for the best thing until the end.

"Oh, come on, Jess!" Niamh complains," I wanted to see the tigers!"

Niamh's a bit like Morsa, you think. All tall and funny and constantly getting on Momma's nerves in the best way possible.

"Later," Jessie says," Let's go look at the bug house first and we'll work our way up to the tigers."

"Are we getting lunch?" You ask as you watch one of the zookeepers feed a tarantula," Or did Momma pack me something?"

"Are you hungry?"

You shrug. "Little bit."

Jessie rummages through the backpack Momma gave her, pulling out your favourite goldfish crackers to munch on as you wander around the zoo.

Eventually, your feet start hurting so you get Niamh to pick you up and walk you around as you look at the big animals like elephants and giraffes.

You do stop for lunch though even though Jessie says it's stupidly overpriced and very bad for you.

There's not a lot of pasta on the menu, which is your favourite and all the sandwich options have icky stuff like mayo instead of butter and bread with seeds instead of just plain so you settle on some mac and cheese and a little pot of fries.

Niamh steals a few of them so you puff out your cheeks in outrage but ultimately keep eating. You slap her prying fingers away when she tries to grab more and Jessie giggles.

You stick your tongue out at Niamh for a moment before pushing your little portion of fries towards Jessie.

"Do you want some?" You ask her and Niamh's jaw drops in shock.

Jessie winks at Niamh. "You know what? I would like some. Thank you."

"You can have as many as you want!"

"What?" Niamh demands," What about me?!"

You give her a disappointed look like Morsa does when Momma puts broccoli in the oven and calls it cooking. "Maybe if you didn't steal some earlier, I would let you have some now. Stealing is bad Niamh."

"Yeah, Niamh," Jessie snickers," Stealing is bad."

Niamh doesn't steal any more of your fries so you finish your mac and cheese and share the rest of your fries with Jessie just to prove a point.

"Tigers now?" You ask after Niamh brings you back from the toilets.

"I don't know..." Jessie pretends to think, tapping her finger against her chin," Aren't there more animals to see first?"

"Jessie, please!" You grab her hand and try to pull her up," Time to see the tigers."

"Alright," She says eventually, right when Niamh swings you up for a piggyback ride," Let's go see the tigers."

You've been out a long while, hours since you left the house and in that time, Magda and Pernille have done a deep clean. They've washed the floors, cleaned up the shower, changed all the bedsheets and done three rounds of laundry.

It's a little empty in the house without you and Magda feels herself just kind of drifting around, anxiously looking out through the windows for Niamh's car.

"Waiting around won't make them come back quicker. They're getting dinner right now."

"Dinner? I thought we were feeding her tonight!"

"I'm sure she'll be hungry when she comes in," Pernille shrugs, flipping aimlessly through the tv channels," But hopefully, they've worn her out enough that she'll just want to go straight to bed without a bath. I mean-"

The doorbell rings and Magda doesn't stick around long enough to hear the end of Pernille's sentence.

"Morsa!" You say as Magda throws up the door.

She stares down at you in shock.

"Got my face painted like a tiger! Rawr!"

You're definitely going to need a bath tonight.

[eu-nicola]

the fastest driver part 3

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc

warnings: take of pills

word counter: 7364

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request, thanks for the comments 🤍

tags: @ilovechickenwings @amortentiaaaa @ananyasribughead @supertrashbread @amalialeclerc @rawr-123s-stuff @wierdflowerpower @malvikareader @freyathehuntress @sweetmuffynsblog @vjbillno

Endless hours passed after the accident before the first clear update about your condition reached the media and the paddock. Everyone was anxiously waiting for news about your health. The uncertainty left fans, journalists, and especially those who truly knew you in a state of tense anticipation.

Finally, a statement from the hospital's medical team brought some relief: you were stable and conscious. While initial tests had ruled out serious spinal injuries or significant fractures, the impact had been severe, leaving you with a moderate concussion and several internal bruises that required monitoring. What concerned the doctors most were the potential psychological and emotional aftereffects: the nature of the crash, the impact, and all the built-up stress could take a toll later.

Hours later, you woke up in a hospital room softly lit by the afternoon light. Everything was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside your bed. Your body felt heavy, like it was filled with lead, and the headache was sharp and constant. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed someone sitting nearby.

It was Charles. He was there, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, as if praying or just trying to calm his own nerves. When he saw you stir slightly, he lifted his head, and his expression changed a mix of relief and worry crossed his face.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want to scare you. “Thank God.”

You hadn’t expected to see him there. In fact, you hadn’t expected to see anyone. And yet, here he was.

“Charles…” you tried to speak, but your voice came out as barely a whisper.

“Shhh, don’t talk too much. The doctors said you need to rest.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, ignoring his warning, even though just talking felt like needles stabbing your skull.

He shrugged, offering a light but sincere smile.  

“Someone had to make sure you were okay.”

Charles stayed by your side for hours, even when the doctors came in and out to check on you. He answered questions from the journalists crowding outside the hospital, desperate for a statement, and refused requests from photographers trying to get a shot of you. There was something unusually warm and protective about the way he acted.

As you lay back, eyes closed to avoid making the headache worse, you heard his voice.

“You scared me, you know? I’ve never seen anything so…” He paused, searching for the right word. “So violent. Not since Jules. And when I saw the crash on the screen, I thought the worst.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. There was sincerity in his face, something you hadn’t expected.

“I’m okay… sort of.” You tried to joke, but the pain turned it into a grimace.

“No, you’re not okay. But you will be. You have to be.”

As Charles stayed with you, messages started pouring in. Your phone sat on the bedside table, just out of reach, and Charles offered to read some.

“Everyone’s worried about you. Here’s one from Lando… and even one from Toto. Seems like the entire F1 world is waiting for you to get better.”

“Who else?” you asked, almost dreading the answer.

Charles scrolled through, his expression hardening briefly before softening again.

“Max,” he said simply.

Your heart stopped for a moment. You didn’t know what to expect. Since the accident, you’d assumed Max was too caught up in his own world to care, but the fact that he’d written at all was enough to twist your stomach.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent, though you knew Charles could see right through you.

He hesitated before answering.

“‘Hope you’re okay. Sorry I wasn’t there sooner. Let me know if you need anything.’”

The neutrality of the words didn’t match the intensity of what you felt hearing them. You closed your eyes, trying to process it all. What did that message even mean? Was it just courtesy, or was there something more behind those words?

Charles noticed your discomfort and set the phone aside.

“You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly, though part of you knew that wasn’t true.

As night fell, Charles finally said goodbye, promising to return the next day. There was something comforting about his presence, how he’d set aside any competitiveness or formality just to be there for you. Yet, when you were left alone, the thoughts began to overwhelm you.

The crash, the messages, the worries it all tangled into a mess of emotions you couldn’t unravel. The only thing clear was that while you were physically stable, emotionally, you were far from okay.

After that day in the hospital, Charles became a constant presence in your life. His support wasn’t limited to encouraging messages or occasional visits. He went beyond that. Where others saw a moral obligation or an opportunity to score points with the media, he saw something else: a chance to show you that you weren’t alone.  

The medical team made it clear you could return to racing, but not without certain restrictions. You had to stick to a strict combination of medications after every race: anti-inflammatories, painkillers, and supplements to manage the physical and mental stress you still felt after the accident. Charles was the first person to offer to help you with this. It wasn’t his responsibility, but he seemed to take on the role without hesitation.  

The first race after the accident was a mental and physical challenge. As you prepared to get back in the cockpit, fear swirled in your chest. The accident was fresh in your memory, and even though you knew you were capable, there was a shadow of doubt you couldn’t shake.  

The day before the race, Charles showed up at your hotel. He had a small bag in hand and a calm expression, almost as if it was meant to soothe you.  

"I thought you might need this," he said, placing the bag on the table.  

Inside, there was a box of relaxing tea, a small book about mental strategies in sports, and a handwritten note. When you opened it, you found a simple phrase: "You’re stronger than you think."  

"Thank u," you said, moved by the gesture.  

"You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to know I’m here, okay? If you need to talk, if you need anything..."  

You nodded, grateful for his sincerity. For a long time, you’d felt alone in this world. It was strange to realize someone was willing to stand by your side without asking for anything in return.  

Race day was a whirlwind. Even though you tried to stay calm, every time you sat in the car, the memory of the crash resurfaced. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, reminding yourself you’d done this thousands of times before, that you were capable—one of the best.  

The race wasn’t easy, but you finished in a solid fifth place, a result any other driver would’ve considered a success under the circumstances. When you got out of the car, exhausted but relieved, Charles was the first to approach you.  

"Well done," he said, patting your shoulder.  

After every race, Charles made sure you followed the medical protocol. Sometimes, when you forgot the pills, he’d show up holding the box, reminding you that your health came first.  

"How do you even know I haven’t taken them?" you asked one day, half-joking.  

"Because I know you well enough to know you hate depending on this stuff," he said with a smile, handing you the water and pills.  

It was strange how his presence had gone from sporadic to constant. He wasn’t just there for the serious moments; he also found ways to make you laugh, to lighten the weight on your shoulders.  

It wasn’t something you’d planned or even imagined after everything you’d been through, but your friendship with Charles was good for you. So much so that you felt comfortable asking him something after noticing he’d been off for a while. You’d seen his behavior become quieter than usual, even in the paddock, where he usually managed to keep up appearances in front of the cameras.  

"Are you okay? You seem... off."  

His response came almost immediately.  

"Do you have time to talk?"  

You invited him to your place, where you saw a different side of Charles. He’d shed his usual composure and looked... vulnerable, almost like the facade he kept in public had cracked.  

"Thanks for this," he said, sitting on the small couch as you handed him a bottle of water.  

"You don’t have to thank me, Charles. What’s going on?"  

He sighed, fiddling with the cap of the bottle before speaking.  

"It’s... complicated. Ferrari doesn’t feel like my team anymore."  

You frowned, surprised by his words.  

"What do you mean?"  

"Since Lewis joined this year, everything changed. I knew it would be different, it’s Lewis Hamilton, of course but I didn’t think it’d be like this," he confessed, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I feel like everything revolves around him. The strategies, the resources, even the engineers’ attention... It’s like I’m a shadow in my own team."  

You felt a pang in your chest hearing that. It was almost an exact replica of what you’d felt when you shared a team with him at Ferrari.  

"Charles... you don’t know how much I get it," you said, sitting across from him. "That feeling of being invisible, like your efforts don’t matter... I went through the same thing with you."  

He looked up, surprised by your honesty.  

"Really?"  

"Yeah. Do you remember all those team orders? All those moments where no matter how fast I was, they always put me aside to favor you. It’s... frustrating. It makes you question everything you do."  

Charles nodded slowly, processing your words.  

"I guess I never saw it from your perspective. I always thought the team’s decisions were fair, but now... now I know what it feels like."  

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.  

"Charles, I know how hard this is. But what you need to remember is that your talent doesn’t depend on them. Ferrari is just one team, one stage in your career—it doesn’t define who you are as a driver."  

"How did you deal with it?" he asked, genuinely curious.  

"At first, I didn’t," you admitted. "I kept everything inside, let the frustration eat me up... until I couldn’t take it anymore. But I learned something: you can’t let them take away what you love about this sport. If Ferrari doesn’t value you the way they should, then prove your worth on the track. Force them to see you."  

Charles nodded slowly, as if your words were beginning to sink in.  

"It’s easier said than done," he said, with a bitter smile.  

"I know. But I also know you have the talent to do it."  

The conversation went on for hours, shifting from serious topics to shared memories and stories from your days at Ferrari. It was strange, but comforting, to share that space with him. He’d gone from being the rival who overshadowed you at your lowest to someone you could fully trust.  

When he finally stood to leave, Charles paused at the door and looked at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before.  

"Thank you for this. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."  

"I’m always here. You know that."  

As the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but smile. Charles was so much more than you’d ever thought. And somehow, he’d brought out the best in you too.

While you were helping Charles find his way in a team that relegated him to second place, you couldn’t ignore the fact that your own demons were still lurking. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Max remained a constant presence both on the track and in your personal life.  

Since your move to McLaren, the rivalry with Max had reached a new level. If before you shared moments of camaraderie and confidences, now every interaction was loaded with tension. And not just on the track.  

The championship was on fire. You and Max were leading the standings, swapping first and second place race after race. On every circuit, every corner, and every straight, it felt like only the two of you existed. It didn’t matter who else made it to the podium; the battle was always between you and him.  

During qualifying, both of you pushed to the limit, but an incident in Q3 left Max without a lap time. As soon as he got out of the car, Max stormed straight toward you, visibly furious.  

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his voice sharp as he closed the distance between you in the paddock.  

“What was what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though you knew exactly what he was referring to.  

“You blocked me on my flying lap.”  

“Max, you were too far behind when I started my lap. I didn’t block you.”  

“Of course you did!” he insisted, stepping even closer. His blue eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

The argument caught the attention of journalists and members of both teams. You knew that one wrong word could make headlines the next day, so you chose to stay calm.  

“If you have a problem, take it up with the stewards, not me,” you said before turning and walking away, leaving Max with the words stuck in his throat.  

But the tension wasn’t confined to the track. It had started to bleed into your personal lives. Even though both of you tried to avoid each other outside of race weekends, coincidences were inevitable especially at sponsor events or official meetings.  

At one of these events, an FIA gala in Monaco, Max couldn’t resist looking for you in the crowd. When he finally spotted you, you were talking to Charles, laughing at something he’d said. The sight seemed to ignite something in Max, and he couldn’t hold back as he approached.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, cutting into the conversation.  

Charles glanced at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution, before stepping back to let you decide.  

“What do you want, Max?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.  

“You and Charles, what’s going on between you two?” he asked quietly, though his tone carried an accusatory edge.  

“What kind of question is that?” you replied, crossing your arms.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing it, but… every time I see you two together, I can’t help thinking that…”  

“That what?” you interrupted, annoyed. “That maybe someone else can actually support me and understand me in this chaos that you chose to ignore?”  

Max pressed his lips together, clearly feeling the sting of your words. But instead of responding, he looked away and muttered:  

“You still know how to twist everything around.”  

The conversation was left unfinished, but the night didn’t end there. Later, as you tried to avoid him, you found Max alone on the terrace of the venue, staring out at the sea, his figure illuminated by the lights.  

“Why do you do this?” you asked, walking toward him. Your tone was no longer defiant but tired.  

“Do what?” he asked without looking at you.  

“Show up, disappear, demand things from me that you can’t even give yourself. You’re still with her, and yet…”  

Max closed his eyes, as if your words were too heavy to bear.  

“I don’t know how to handle this,” he admitted finally, turning to face you. “You and me… I don’t know how to handle it.”  

“Then maybe you should stop trying,” you said, though your voice cracked at the end.  

The silence between you was deafening. Too many unsaid emotions, too many decisions both of you refused to make. Finally, Max stepped back.  

“It’s easier said than done, isn’t it?”  

And with that, he left, leaving you alone on the terrace, feeling like the two of you were trapped in a vicious cycle neither of you knew how to escape.  

In the days that followed, you tried to focus on racing and your friendship with Charles, who had become a kind of refuge in the chaos. But every time you saw Max, every time your eyes met in the paddock, you felt the storm lingering, waiting for the right moment to break again.  

The rivalry on the track only grew more intense. Max and you raced as if every race was the last, as if the championship depended on who was stronger, more determined, more ruthless. But off the track, you both continued to grapple with the same internal conflict: what you felt for each other and what the world expected of you.  

You and Max were the top contenders for the title, and every race turned into a war. The media called it “the battle of the century,” comparing it to the legendary Senna-Prost rivalry. Every overtake, every strategy, every word in a press conference was scrutinized.  

At the Brazilian Grand Prix, things came to a head. From the first lap, the fight between you and Max was fierce. You knew every one of his tricks, every weakness, every strength. There were moments when the cars seemed to touch, pushing the limits of competition to the extreme.  

On lap 43, you attempted an overtake on the inside of Turn 1, but Max, in his trademark aggressive style, shut the door almost recklessly. Your front tires brushed his, and though both of you managed to maintain control, the incident was enough to set off commentators and social media.  

“This is unacceptable!” your engineer shouted over the radio. “We’re reporting it.”  

But you didn’t want to win the championship through a penalty.  

“Leave it. I’ll settle it on the track,” you said, with a determination that surprised even yourself.  

In the end, you finished second, behind Max, but the battle was epic. Fans were divided, some siding with you, others defending Max. But in your mind, one thought started to take root: maybe you’d had enough of this world.  

After that race, you decided to take a break. You flew back to your hometown to spend time with your family, seeking comfort in their presence. One night, sitting in the garden of your parents’ house, you opened up to your mom.  

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admitted, staring at the stars. “Every race feels like a battle not just on the track, but inside me, too.”  

Your mom, always wise and patient, looked at you with gentle understanding.  

“Then why do you keep going?”

You stayed silent for a moment, searching for the words.  

“Because it’s all I’ve ever known. Since I was a kid, my entire world has revolved around racing. But lately… lately, I feel like I want something more. I want a normal life, a family. I want to stop fighting all the time.”

“What’s stopping you?.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what that life would look like, or who it would be with.”

It was the first time you’d said those words out loud. The idea of giving up Formula 1, of walking away from everything you’d worked so hard for, was terrifying but also freeing.  

You couldn’t help but think of Max. Even though your relationship was broken, and the rivalry had reached its peak, there was still something about him pulling you in. But the question that haunted you was: did he feel the same?  

Max was still with his partner, at least publicly. But his actions, his looks, even his comments during races, hinted at something more. Could you build a life with someone who seemed incapable of facing his own feelings?  

“Maybe it’s not Max,” you muttered to yourself that night, curled up on the couch in your childhood bedroom. “Maybe it’s someone else. Or maybe I just need to find myself first.”

When you returned to the paddock for the US Grand Prix, something had shifted inside you. You hadn’t made any final decisions, but you knew this chapter of your life was nearing its end. Still, as long as you were in F1, you were going to give it everything you had.  

In the pre-race interviews, journalists bombarded you with questions about your rivalry with Max.  

“Is it personal?,” one of them asked with a sly grin.  

“Everything in Formula 1 is personal,” you replied with a wry smile, offering no further explanation.  

Max, sitting next to you at the press conference, shot you a sideways glance but said nothing. The tension between you two was palpable, even in front of the cameras.  

That race turned into yet another head-to-head battle between the two of you. During the final laps, the radio chatter grew more intense.  

“He’s losing rear grip. Push him.”

“I already am!,” you snapped, pushing the car to its limit.  

In the last lap, you pulled off a risky overtake that left everyone stunned. You won the race, and as you stepped out of the car, you felt a mix of euphoria and exhaustion.  

While celebrating with your team, your thoughts drifted back to your conversation with your mom. Maybe this was the ending you’d been searching for, or maybe it was just the start of something new.  

Max watched you from the podium, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t decipher. In the crowd, you couldn’t help but wonder: could you ever leave it all behind, even him?  

The next race, under the scorching Qatar sun, felt heavier, both in the air and in the paddock. Everything about this second-to-last race of the season felt like a countdown to something inevitable. You and Max were tied in points, both neck and neck after a season of epic battles, controversies, and moments that had pushed you to the edge emotionally.  

The tension in the McLaren garage was palpable. Though your relationship with your team was excellent, you knew the pressure was on you. Lando tried to lighten the mood with his usual sense of humor, but even his energy couldn’t cut through the wall of your thoughts.  

“Come on, don’t be so serious. We could both use a win today,” he joked while adjusting his gloves.  

“Sure, but if you win, I won’t complain,” you replied with a faint smile, though you both knew that wasn’t true. This race meant everything to you.  

Meanwhile, Charles had sent a message that morning: ‘Remember, one race at a time. You can do this. You’ve already proven you’re the best.’ His unwavering support had become one of the few things keeping you mentally afloat during this emotional rollercoaster.  

From qualifying, it was clear this race would be another direct battle between you and Max. Both of you blocked every attempt the other made to set the fastest time, ending up on the front row: Max on pole, you in second.  

The start was clean but intense. From the first corner, Max showed his usual aggression, shutting you out in an attempt to stay ahead. But you knew this game; he had taught you how to play it. You used the slipstream on the main straight, and on lap five, you overtook him with a surgical move in turn 6.  

For a moment, the world seemed to stop as you led the race, but you knew the real battle had just begun.  

Midway through the race, things heated up. Teams began to play with strategies, and tire choices became crucial. On lap 32, as you exited the pits after a tire change, Max appeared beside you. The overtake that followed was so tight the two cars brushed slightly, sparking an explosion of shouting over the radio.  

“That was way too close!,” your engineer protested, but you were too focused to respond.  

Max didn’t back down. In the following laps, he kept relentless pressure on you, looking for any weakness in your defense. On lap 48, he attempted an inside overtake on a tight corner, but you managed to hold your position with a move that left everyone on the edge of their seats.  

In the final laps, your mind was torn between the adrenaline of the race and the mental exhaustion you’d been carrying all season. Max was glued to your diffuser, but he made a small mistake on the second-to-last corner, giving you just enough of a margin to cross the finish line first.  

Your team’s shout over the radio was deafening:  

“Victory! You’re incredible, what a race!.”

But you didn’t have time to celebrate. As you parked the car in parc fermé, reality hit you: this victory only meant you were still tied in points, and everything would come down to the final race.  

The journalists were in a frenzy. In the post-race press conference, the questions came at you like bullets.  

“How do you handle the pressure heading into the last race?.”

“Calmly. One race at a time.” you replied, echoing Charles’ words, even though calm was the last thing you felt.  

Max, sitting beside you, spoke after you.  

“I always knew this season would be decided in the end. I’m ready for it.”

His gaze met yours for a second, and in that brief moment, the tension between you two felt more personal than ever.  

Back at the hotel, you tried to disconnect, but it was impossible. Your mind raced, replaying every detail of the race and anticipating what was to come. Charles called to congratulate you but also to remind you to rest.  

“Don’t let this consume you, okay?,” he said, his tone serious but kind. “You’ve done an amazing job, and you have everything you need to win.”

“Thanks, Charles. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what you’d do without me either,” he joked, managing to make you laugh.

However, when you hung up, you kept staring at the ceiling of your room, wondering if you were truly ready to face everything the final race was about to bring.  

Even though you hadn’t seen Max since the press conference, you knew he was just as restless as you. Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t help but think about him, about how this rivalry had consumed everything you once shared.  

Is this really what you wanted? To keep fighting, keep competing, keep losing yourself in the process?  

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your thoughts. Just one race left. One final battle. And after that, maybe you’d finally have the answers you’d been searching for.  

The last week of the season was a whirlwind of emotions, preparations, and a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The entire paddock was on edge. Everything would be decided in Abu Dhabi.  

Escaping the media’s attention was impossible. Cameras followed you everywhere, looking for any reaction that could turn into a headline. The atmosphere at McLaren was optimistic but tense. You’d brought the team to its highest point in years, and that was already a monumental achievement. But for you, it wasn’t enough. You wanted that title.  

During the press conferences, the questions were relentless. You and Max were the center of attention. Though both of you kept calm outwardly, the discomfort between you was obvious. Every word, every gesture was analyzed by the journalists.  

“How do you feel heading into this decisive race?” they asked you during one of the press rounds.  

“Focused. This is what we’ve worked for all year. I just want to do my job and see what happens,” you replied diplomatically, though inside your heart was racing.  

Max, sitting next to you, simply said:  

“I’m focused too. We both know what’s at stake. May the best win.”  

There was a moment when your eyes met, but it was fleeting. There were so many words left unsaid between you, and the weight of that silence felt unbearable.  

In the final strategy meeting with your team, the tension was palpable. You knew every decision would matter, every detail could be the difference between winning and losing. Your race engineer, always meticulous, reviewed the plans calmly, but even you could tell he was nervous.  

“I believe in you. You’ve proven you can do this,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder before you left the garage.  

Lando, on the other hand, tried to lighten the mood with a joke.  

“If you don’t win, can I keep the consolation trophy?” he said with a cheeky grin.  

“There won’t be a consolation trophy,” you replied with a smirk.  

That day, Yas Marina Circuit was lit up like a jewel in the desert, and the atmosphere was electric. Before getting in the car, you took a moment for yourself. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and visualized every corner, every move. You knew you had to give it everything.  

The anthem played, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. Max was beside you on the grid. Though you didn’t speak, you could feel his presence, his energy. You both knew this race wasn’t just about the championship but also everything that had happened between you.  

The start was flawless. From the first corner, you and Max were locked in an intense battle. Neither of you gave an inch. Every lap was a fight, every overtake a statement. The rest of the drivers might as well have been racing in a different category; it was as if this championship was meant to be decided between just the two of you.  

On lap 35, a slow pit stop almost cost you the race, but you quickly recovered, overtaking Max in a spectacular move on lap 42. The crowd went wild.  

But Max wasn’t going to give up. On lap 50, he took the lead back, forcing you slightly off the track. It was an aggressive move, but clean—classic Max.  

In the final five laps, both of you were at the limit. Your hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline, but your focus was unshakable. In the penultimate lap, you found a gap on the main straight and passed Max on the inside. This time, he had no answer.  

When you crossed the finish line, the world seemed to stop for a moment before exploding in celebration. You’d done it. You were a world champion.  

Your team screamed over the radio, their voices full of tears and joy.  

“You’re the world champion! You did it!”  

As you climbed out of the car, the emotions overwhelmed you. Your team surrounded you, celebrating. Lando was one of the first to hug you, shouting:  

“I told you! I knew you’d do it!”  

As you stood with your team, your eyes instinctively searched for Max. He was there, watching you from a distance. Slowly, he approached, his steps a mix of pride and resignation.  

When he reached you, he extended his hand.  

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.  

“Thanks, Max,” you replied, shaking his hand. For a moment, his eyes reflected something that looked like regret, but he said nothing more. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.  

That night was magical. There was laughter, tears, toasts. The tension of the entire season melted away in a whirlwind of emotions. Charles called to congratulate you, and his genuine happiness was like a balm to your heart.  

“I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.  

As the celebration went on, you took a moment to reflect. You’d reached the pinnacle of the world, but you knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life. The future was full of uncertainty, but that night, you decided to enjoy the present, savoring every moment of your triumph.  

The emotional hangover the next day was overwhelming. It wasn’t physical, nor from the celebration, but a deep emptiness you hadn’t expected to feel after achieving the dream of your life. You’d won the Formula 1 World Championship, the peak of your career, but instead of feeling complete, you felt lost.

You woke up in your hotel room, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Around you, there were remnants of the celebration: a half-empty champagne glass on the table, the dress you wore last night carelessly thrown over a chair. The trophy, shiny and imposing, sat on the nightstand, but as you looked at it, you didn’t feel the euphoria you’d imagined for years.  

You got up and walked to the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was different from the one you were used to. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion from the season; it was something deeper a sense of disconnect with yourself.  

You spent the morning avoiding your phone, even though you knew the notifications had to be flooding in. Messages of congratulations, articles from the media, videos of the highlights... but you weren’t ready to face it yet. Instead of feeling celebrated, you felt isolated.  

The idea had been lingering in your mind for weeks, maybe even months. The crash, the endless emotional struggles, the pressure to always be the best... it had all left its mark. And now, after achieving what you’d always dreamed of, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep going anymore.  

During breakfast with your parents, you decided to share your thoughts. You’d avoided bringing it up before, afraid of their reactions, but now felt like the right time.  

“I’ve been thinking about something... important,” you said, breaking the silence while fiddling with your coffee mug.  

Your mom looked at you with concern.  

“Are you okay? Does this have to do with Formula 1?”  

You shook your head.  

“No… well, partly, yes. Like I said, I’ve been reflecting, and I think... I don’t want to keep racing anymore.”  

The silence that followed was heavy. Your dad, ever the pragmatic one, was the first to speak.  

“Are you sure? You’ve worked your whole life for this.”  

“I know, Dad. But I’ve also given it everything I had. And now I feel like if I keep going, it’ll just be out of habit, not because I really want to.”  

Your mom took your hand.  

“We’ve always wanted you to be happy, no matter what you do. If you feel this is the time to stop, we’ll support you.”  

That conversation was the turning point. Over the following days, you talked to your team, Lando, and even Charles, who, although surprised, understood your decision. Lando tried to convince you to stay for one more year.  

“Are you really going to leave me here alone? We were just starting to have fun!” he joked, though there was genuine sadness in his eyes.  

“It’s your time, Lando. I’m sure you’ll do amazing things,” you replied, hugging him.  

Charles, on the other hand, was more serious.  

“I didn’t see this coming, but I get it. Just… promise me you won’t disappear completely.”  

“I won’t. I’ll always be here, even if it’s just as a spectator.”  

That same night, after hours of figuring out how to word it, you sat in front of the camera in your room. You were nervous, not about the decision, but about how the world would react. You wore a simple t-shirt, your hair tied back. You wanted the message to be honest, without distractions.  

‘Hi, everyone. I know this isn’t the video you were expecting after the incredible season we just had, but I wanted to share something important with you...’

You took a deep breath before continuing.  

‘I’ve decided to retire from Formula 1. This year has been the most exciting but also the most exhausting of my life. Winning the championship was a dream come true, but it also made me realize it’s time to close this chapter and start a new one.’

You paused, letting your words sink in.  

‘This wasn’t an easy decision. Formula 1 has been my life for so many years that I barely remember what it was like before. But I also know I want other things. I want time for myself, for my family, to explore who I am outside of this sport.’

Your voice wavered slightly, but you kept going.  

‘I want to thank my team, my teammates, my rivals, and, of course, the fans. Without your support, none of this would’ve been possible.’

When you finished, you turned off the camera and fell onto the bed. It wasn’t immediate relief, but there was something freeing about putting an end to that chapter.  

The video was released the next day and, as expected, caused a storm. The media debated your decision, fans flooded social media with messages of support and gratitude, and some even expressed disbelief.  

Charles sent you a text:  

“I saw it. I’m proud of you. You’ll do amazing things, no matter where you go.”  

And Max, who had avoided talking to you since the last race, also sent a short message:  

“You were the best. I always knew it. I hope you find what you’re looking for and that you forgive me.”  

Even though his words were few, they left a lump in your throat.  

That night, while staring at the stars from your balcony, you realized that, even though the future was uncertain, you were ready to face it.  

Weeks passed since your decision, and life finally seemed to find its rhythm. The constant noise of racing and the pressure to be the best slowly faded. But deep down, you felt like something or someone was still missing.  

Your house, now quieter than ever, became your sanctuary. You spent those days focusing on yourself, resting, discovering what you truly liked outside the track. But even in the peace of your own thoughts, Max lingered in your mind. He wasn’t a constant thought, but you’d remember him, especially when news of his breakup with his girlfriend started circulating. That, unexpectedly, stirred something in you, a knot in your stomach.  

Late one night, your phone buzzed. The name on the screen made you hesitate for a second. Max.  

The message was short, direct.  

“Can I see you? I need to talk to you.”  

You didn’t think much about it. You knew this conversation needed to happen eventually. You’d been avoiding it, but now it felt like the universe was putting it in your path.  

You agreed to meet at your house the next day, and when the door opened, there he was. Max, with that intense, direct gaze that had known you for years. Now, though, there was something different something more vulnerable.  

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You invited him in, and he settled on the couch like it was his own home. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unresolved emotions.  

“I don’t know where to start,” he began, with a nervous smile.  

“Neither do I,” you replied, sitting across from him.  

The two of you just sat there, watching each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Max spoke.  

“Breaking up with her... wasn’t easy. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t keep lying to myself. The truth is… I never stopped thinking about you.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. Max, always so sure of himself, seemed completely different now.  

“Max... I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve been on such different paths. You… always so focused on F1, on competing… and me too. Things were never easy between us, and now… I don’t know if any of this makes sense.”  

He nodded, understanding what you meant.  

“I know. I’ve been an idiot. I thought I could keep everything under control, but in the end… I lost what mattered most.”  

He looked at you intently, and in his eyes was a sincerity that made you question everything you’d been thinking until that moment.  

“But that doesn’t mean I forgot about you. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about what we had. If anything, it’s taken me time to realize that… maybe there’s something here we never really figured out.”  

You stayed silent, processing his words. The tension was thick, but something in his voice made you want to listen, even though you knew the situation was complicated.  

“And what is it that you want, Max?” you asked, your voice a bit shaky.  

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a small, sad smile. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or to go back to what we had. But I think… we should at least try. Not now, not right away, but… maybe we can see what happens, without the pressures of F1, without everything that kept us apart.”  

You got up and walked to the window, staring outside without really seeing anything. Max watched you from the couch, waiting for your response. The atmosphere between you had shifted somehow, and for the first time, it felt like you had both let go of the fight to always be the best.  

You turned to look at him.  

“I’m not sure I’m ready to start something new. After all, I made the decision to retire for a reason, Max. I’ve spent so much time on F1 that now I need to rediscover myself. And I don’t know what I want.”  

Max got up from the couch, slowly approaching you.  

“I get it. I’m not expecting it to be easy, or for everything to be resolved right now. But I want you to know I’m not pressuring you. I just… wanted you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll be here. And if someday you decide what we had is worth another shot, I’ll be ready to try, no matter the past.”  

A deep silence followed his words. You knew there was still so much to figure out between the two of you, but something about his attitude, about his willingness to wait, struck a chord within you.  

You didn’t say anything else. You walked toward him, and for a moment, words weren’t necessary. The look in your eyes said it all. Still, there were no promises, no certainties just a silent understanding that, maybe, the future could be different. Maybe even together.  

“We’ll see what happens,” you finally said.  

Max nodded, not pushing, knowing that time would have to decide the course for both of you. And with that response, the future remained suspended between you, open, uncertain, but carrying a possibility that hadn’t existed before.

[20doozers]

Heeeyyy:)

I've been following your block for a while and got this nice fic idea

Like, this one interview where they talk about piercings and Tom's like "I've got a new one down their" and I was thinking like a m!reader fic where reader helps tom with the pain of his prince albert piercing or frenum piercing. but it turns into smut, with reader teasing the hell out of Tom with his piercing.

I hope you like my idea🙃

TW: handjob, frenum piercing, cum tasting?, light teasing, unlabeled relationship, hints of a praise kink

A/N: I know what clip ur talking about. And no fancy banner this time :(

Tom grunted as he sat on the bathroom counter, slightly embarrassed at the prospect of asking his friend for help with his new piercing. He needed to change the jewelry but couldn’t bring himself to do it because of the pain and how nauseous it made him. So here he was, his lower half bare as he sat on the cold bathroom counter and waited for you to come help him.

When you finally did you smirked, the sight of a flushed and embarrassed Tom being a pleasant one as you walked between his legs and began to help him change the jewelry. Your touch was gentle on his cock, not wanting to hurt him on accident. Yet when Tom let out a moan after a particularly gentle touch on the underside of his cock as you slid the new curved barbel in made you pause.

You glanced up at Tom and raised an eyebrow, only for him to mumble a weak “shut up” which really held no harsh tones.

“You sure Tom? Sounds like you enjoyed that.” You hummed, brushing your finger over the same spot just below the head of his cock, making him let out a muffled whine that sounded almost pleading. You just chuckled and screwed the small ball onto the end of the jewelry, the small, curved, silver barbel now replacing the gold one he’d had before. It was a pleasant sight, the small silver accents right below the pinkish head of his cock that was slowly hardening in your hand as his face flushed even more.

“Feels nice doesn’t it? Someone being gentle with you?” You gently yet slowly gave his cock a stroke, pumping it in your hand and earning a small moan. Tom’s head lulled back, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as you have him slow, teasing pumps.

“Scheiße.. d-don’t tease..” he whined, attempting to lift his head to look at you, only to let out a loud moan as you gave his frenum piercing a gentle tug.

“Sensitive, yeah?” You questioned, giving Tom gentle yet firm pumps with one hand, the other slowly rubbing his bare thigh. Goosebumps prickled at Tom’s skin as you teased him, too engrossed in his arousal to remember his embarrassment.

The rest of the handjob was fueled with soft praises, the pumps were firm and slow, occasionally speeding up and giving his cock a small squeeze. Yet you didn’t let him cum just yet, drawing out his pleasure for as long as you pleased. Eventually you watched as a bead of precum leaked from his tip, bringing your other hand away from his thigh to collect the precum on your fingertip, before bringing it up to your lips and tasting it with a small hum as you heard Tom moan.

And with that you finally let him cum, your hand going back down to his thigh to sooth him as his cum leaked from the tip and down onto your hand. But you didn’t mind, just licking you hand clean and helping clean him up with a warm washcloth and a few gentle kisses pressed to his lips as he slowly came down from his high. He grimaced slightly at the taste of his own cum on your lips but it wasn’t the worst thing ever so he decided he’d deal with it for now.

“Good job.. so kind for letting me help.. now let’s head to bed, yeah? I’m sure that was tiring to you.”

YIPPEE!!! I’m sorry it’s a bit short but I didn’t have any other ideas so why not do the request? I’ve been super busy and just not in the mood to write smut so sorry if it sucks but I tried my best. Anyway, luv you guys❤︎︎

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @cherry-rawr @d0wn-in-the-morgue @billskeis and @divinelolita again cuz why not?

[weekend-whip]

AAAAA OH MY GOSH THE OUTFITS!!!!! THEY'RE GORGEOUS!! And Sunni's hair is particularly pretty!! And Jesse's lil necklace!!! AAAA!!!

And them all drinking boba is SO PERFECT AND SPOT ON, LOVE IT!!!!! 💖💖💖

Thank you so much for this; it's beautiful!!! (/*-*)/

Attack: 6/?

For @weekend-whip

[cottonlemonade]

Dorm Shenanigans

request: heyheyhey sugarplum!!💕 back at it again with a brilliant event, I see. I tried to focus today but all my money went to snacks, as usual. for lunch, I got a 31 and went back to definitely study with Komorii 😇 || fluffy dorm shenanigans with boyfriend Komori

Snuggled perfectly on the couch in the common room as you were, a warming blanket over your lap and deeply focused on decorating your Animal Crossing island for Christmas, you felt a little scratch in your throat. You looked up and around for your tea you made earlier and spotted it sitting forgotten on the table a few steps to the right of your boyfriend.

You nudged him with your fluffy-socked-foot.

“Babe?”

Komori, busy with his own island, hummed in acknowledgment.

“How much do you love me?”

He lifted his eyes, staring at a corner on the ceiling, obviously in deep thought.

“Hmm, I’d say as much as one person could love another.”, channeling his inner drama kid he added theatrically, “As much as the bee loves the flower, as much as the moon loves the stars and the bear loves honey. Why, may I inquire, would you ask such a thing?”

You grinned at his silliness and said, “I just wanted to ask for a favor.”

“Oh sure. Go ahead, babycakes.”

“Could you be a lamb and give me the tea from the table, please?”

“Why a lamb?”

You shrugged.

“It’s just an expression.”

“I know but why a lamb of all animals?”

You lowered your console and thought about it. “I guess because they’re famously sweet and obedient? Like you?”

“No they’re not. They’re loud and needy.”

“Still like you then.”, you muttered under your breath.

“Hey!”

He demonstratively turned his head away from you with a huffy hmph.

“Babe?”, you wiggled your foot against his thigh.

“No, you insulted me.”, Komori pouted.

You sighed. “What animal do you wanna be?”

“How about a tiger?”

“And… tigers are sweet and obedient?”

“Excuse me, have you never seen the timeless classic of 1999 Disney's Aladdin?

When he looked at you he was met with an unimpressed cocked brow.

“Fine… will you be a tiger and get me my tea, please?

“Gladly, rawr.” He leaned over to smooch your chubby cheek and jumped up to finally retrieve the mug.

a/n: request for @haikyu-mp4

He is the silliest goose and I’m so glad you made me write for him! I hope you enjoyed! 🌟

(Raja is my favorite Disney sidekick. Who is yours?)

[msriri030]

A River of Uncalled Memories

Dad! Mycheal x Mom! reader

CW: light angst, bittersweet ending

Wake up. Wake up. Remember. Wak—

“MAMA! WAKE UP~!”

Your two-year-old’s cheerful yell broke through the fog of sleep. Before you could fully register her voice, she added, “RAWR!”

Grinning to yourself, you decided to surprise her. In one swift motion, you pulled the blanket over both of you, engulfing her in a cozy cocoon.

“AH!” she squealed in mock fright, her laughter filling the room moments later.

Her tiny body wriggled under the covers, nuzzling against you, her small green nose pressing into your cheek. Soft, contented purring followed, a sound so precious it made your heart swell with warmth.

You gently brushed her golden locks away from her face, revealing her wide, sparkling eyes. Her joy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her.

“Good morning, my little dinosaur,” you teased, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She giggled again, her chubby hands pawing at your face. “Rawr!” she replied, her tiny voice full of excitement.

Before you could respond, the blanket lifted, uncovering the both of you. Standing above you was your husband, Mychael, his warm smile softening his sharp features. To him, you were his heart, and Michelle—your spirited daughter—was his entire world.

“Michelle,” he said in a mock-scolding tone, crouching to her level, “didn’t I tell you to wake up your mom nicely?”

Michelle giggled, hiding behind you playfully. “I did!” she protested.

Mychael chuckled before turning his attention to you. “Good morning, love,” he said softly. “I made breakfast—and sandwiches for our picnic.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and gently cupped your face, covering Michelle’s eyes with his free hand. “No peeking, little dinosaur,” he teased, before capturing your lips in a warm, lingering kiss.

For a brief moment, everything felt perfect—the laughter, the love, the warmth of your family.

Then, like a crack splitting the perfect moment, a sharp voice echoed in your mind:

Stay away from him. He is a monster. Remember.

You flinched, groaning in pain as your head throbbed suddenly. Instinctively, you reached up to rub your temples.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mychael asked, his voice laced with concern as he steadied you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder.

Michelle, ever perceptive, crawled into your lap, her tiny hands gripping your arms tightly. “Mama?” she whispered, her wide, tear-filled eyes looking up at you with worry.

You forced a weak smile, trying to shake off the voice echoing in your head and the dull ache spreading across your temples. “I’m fine,” you reassured them softly, though your heart raced with unease. “Just a little headache. Maybe we should eat some breakfast, and I’ll feel better.”

Mychael studied you for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Are you sure? We can cancel the trip tomorrow if you’re not feeling well—”

“NO~!” Michelle’s loud, heartbroken wail interrupted him. Her little tail, a smaller version of Mychael’s, uncoiled from her waist and thumped lightly against the blankets as she pouted dramatically.

Mychael’s lips thinned as he glanced at her, clearly annoyed but struggling to stay patient. He sighed and stood up, his arms crossing as her tail flicked again. “Michelle, the river will still be there tomorrow. Okay, sweetie pie?”

Michelle’s big eyes glistened as her lip trembled. Tears began to spill over, and she sniffled loudly. The sight of her disappointment hit both of you like a ton of bricks.

Mychael’s pointed ears drooped slightly, a clear sign that he was losing the battle against her tears. She was his princess, his everything, and seeing her upset tugged at every fiber of his being.

You looked at him, your own heart aching for your little girl. Mychael’s expression softened as he met your gaze, clearly torn.

“No, it’s okay,” you said gently, giving him a reassuring smile. “You promised her this trip for a while now. She’s been looking forward to it. I’ll be fine. Really.”

Mychael hesitated, his golden eyes flickering between you and Michelle, who was now clutching your arm with a pitiful look on her face. Finally, he sighed deeply, his ears perking up slightly as he gave a reluctant nod.

“Alright,” he said, his voice low and tender as he crouched to scoop Michelle into his arms. “But if you feel worse later, we'll come right back home. No arguments.”

Michelle immediately perked up, her tears vanishing as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. “Yay! Thank you, Papa!” she squealed, her tail wagging happily behind her.

Mychael smiled faintly and kissed the top of her head. “Anything for my little princess,” he murmured.

You watched the two of them, your heart warming at the sight. Still, the voice from earlier lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. Stay away from him. He is a monster. Remember.

What did it mean? What is it that you can't remember?

After a delightful breakfast of pancakes and wild berries from Mychael’s recent hunting trip, you helped Michelle into her outfit for the day. Slipping the dress over her, you smiled as she adjusted the red fabric with its white polka-dotted puff skirt. The matching cap perched atop her golden curls was a perfect finishing touch, reminiscent of her father’s style.

“Daddy, look! I’m a princess!” Michelle declared excitedly, twirling in place to show off her outfit. Her giggles filled the room as the skirt flared out with each spin.

Mychael, who was busy packing the picnic basket, glanced up and smiled warmly at his little girl. “You’re not just a princess,” he said, crouching down to her level, “you’re the queen of the whole forest.”

Michelle beamed, her tiny hands clutching her skirt as she dashed to Mychael, throwing her arms around his neck. He chuckled, lifting her effortlessly, and the sight warmed your heart. There was something so natural, so comforting, about the bond they shared.

Carrying Michelle in one arm and the picnic basket in the other, Mychael turned to you with a soft smile. “Ready to go, firefly?”

“Yeah, love,” you replied with a giggle, leaning in to kiss him. He returned it warmly, his lips lingering just a moment longer before pulling back. With a nod, he handed you the smaller basket and gently placed Michelle in your arms before securing his crossbow over his shoulder.

Grabbing the larger basket and your hand, Mychael began to lead the way down the familiar forest path toward the river. The late morning sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light across the forest floor.

As you walked for a few minutes, Mychael’s sharp gaze scanned the surroundings. Suddenly, he froze, hearing something in the bushes. His body tensed as he swiftly raised his crossbow, his movements silent and precise. You instinctively clutched Michelle closer, heart racing, until a small rabbit scurried across the path ahead.

Michelle’s eyes lit up with wonder as she pointed. “Look, Mama! It’s a bunny!” she squealed with delight, her voice echoing through the trees.

You burst into laughter at the absurdity of the moment, your nerves dissolving. Mychael lowered his crossbow, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Not funny,” he muttered, pouting as you and Michelle giggled together.

Despite the lighthearted moment, you knew Mychael’s cautious nature wasn’t misplaced. He was always on edge, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surroundings as if anticipating danger, as though some unseen threat loomed nearby.

You tried to remember why he was like this—how you had met him, what had shaped his unyielding vigilance—but your mind felt foggy, shrouded in a mist that refused to lift. No matter how hard you tried, the memories remained just out of reach, slipping through your grasp like water through your fingers.

I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?

Michelle’s joyful laughter broke through your restless thoughts, pulling you back to the present. You blinked, refocusing on the scene ahead. Mychael gave your hand a firm, reassuring squeeze, his quiet warmth grounding you in the here and now. Whatever his secrets were, for now, this was enough.

Ahead of you, the river slowly came into view, its crystal-clear waters glinting under the sunlight. This place held a special meaning for the two of you—a haven, a slice of peace in an otherwise chaotic world.

After setting Michelle down, you watched her run ahead to the meadow, twirling in delight as she chased a butterfly. Her golden curls bounced with every movement, and her giggles filled the air, light and carefree. She paused for a moment, turning to make sure you were watching, her wide eyes brimming with happiness.

You smiled warmly, nodding to her before settling down on the riverbank with Mychael. He sat behind you, pulling you close to rest against his broad chest. His arms encircled you protectively as he buried his face in your hair, purring softly—a comforting sound you’d come to associate with safety and love.

You sighed contentedly, leaning into his warmth as his hand gently traced idle patterns on your arm. “You’re so tense,” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him.

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m always tense,” he replied, his voice low and soft, though his gaze was still scanning the forest around you.

“It’s just us here,” you whispered, placing a hand over his heart. “You don’t have to worry right now.”

For a moment, he seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening as he let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll always worry,” he admitted. “But you and Michelle… you make it worth it.”

Your heart ached at his words, a mixture of warmth and that lingering unease. You wanted to ask him about the fog in your memories, about the past you couldn’t recall, but the way he held you—the way he seemed to need this moment—made you hesitate.

Instead, you turned your gaze back to Michelle, watching her spin and laugh in the meadow, the sunlight casting a golden halo around her. You leaned further into Mychael’s embrace, closing your eyes for just a moment.

Here, by the river, surrounded by love and laughter, it was easy to forget the questions. For now, this was enough.

After an hour of laughter and crafting flower crowns with Michelle, the peaceful atmosphere shifted. Mychael’s ears shot up sharply, fully alert, swiveling toward the forest. His entire posture changed—tense and ready, like a predator sensing danger. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest as he stood, his hand gripping the crossbow slung over his shoulder.

You immediately noticed his reaction, your heart leaping in response. Michelle seemed to sense the tension too, quickly clambering into your arms. Her tiny hands clung to you tightly, and she buried her face against your neck, nuzzling close as though seeking safety from an unseen threat.

“Mychael?” you called softly, your voice trembling as you turned your head to follow his gaze. The forest seemed darker now, shadows creeping along the edges of the clearing. A figure was moving closer, their outline barely distinguishable through the trees.

“We should head home,” you whispered, clutching Michelle tighter as your heart pounded against your ribs. You began to step back, eyes darting toward the path that led back to safety, mapping the quickest route in your mind.

Mychael shifted his weight, his tail swaying side to side in that unnerving, feline-like way he did when he was preparing for a confrontation. His crossbow was in his hands now, the string taut, ready to fire. He didn’t take his eyes off the figure, his body coiled like a spring.

“M-Mychael,” you stammered, leaning toward him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It could be a lost hiker or—”

“Maybe,” he cut you off, his voice low and cold. “Or it could be someone looking for trouble.”

The figure stopped just at the edge of the clearing, their face obscured by the shade of the trees. A suffocating silence fell over the meadow, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the steady pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Stay behind me,” Mychael commanded, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

You nodded, clutching Michelle protectively as your instincts screamed at you to flee. But you stayed, frozen in place, your eyes locked on the mysterious figure as they took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"(Y/N), is that you?" the figure called out, stepping hesitantly from the shadows. Their voice carried a mix of shock and relief. As they stepped into the light, you could see a young adult with tan skin, a side ponytail, and a golden retriever trotting faithfully by their side. The dog wagged its tail, seemingly thrilled to see you.

You clutched Michelle tighter, your heart pounding as you tried to place the stranger’s face. No matter how hard you searched your memory, nothing surfaced. The harder you tried, the more your headache, as though something inside was resisting you.

Remember. 

The person’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What? (Y/N), it’s me—your neighbor, Vida. Don’t tell me you don’t remember Laika?” They gestured toward the golden retriever, who barked happily, tail thumping against the ground as if waiting for your recognition. Vida’s expression shifted from confusion to worry. “You’ve been missing for months…”

Their words hit you like a bolt of lightning. Missing? Months? You felt your chest tighten as an ache bloomed behind your eyes. You held Michelle closer, her small arms wrapping tightly around your neck as if she, too, could feel the tension in the air.

“I... I don’t know you,” you stammered, your voice trembling. A sharp, pounding pain erupted in your head, forcing you to close your eyes and rub your temple. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Vida took a cautious step closer, raising their hands in a gesture of peace. “Wait, you really don’t remember? Not me? Not Laika? Nothing?” They glanced at Mychael, their expression shifting to one of subtle horror as their eyes fell on his tense posture and the crossbow in his hands. Their suspicion was clear.

“What about Waffles? Your cat?” Vida’s voice softened, almost pleading. “You went out looking for her the night you disappeared. Don’t you remember that?”

“Waffles…” The name struck a chord deep within you, unlocking something raw and painful. Tears welled in your eyes without warning, your chest tightening as fragments of emotion: sadness and anger—flashes of something familiar—threatened to rise. You couldn’t grasp them fully, but the name carried weight, an echo of something important.

Your breath hitched as you unconsciously began to cry. “Mama?” Michelle’s small, worried voice broke through your haze, her tiny hands tugging at your collar as she looked up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes.

The world around you spun, the forest tilting and narrowing as panic wrapped its icy fingers around your throat. Your breathing quickened, shallow and erratic, as you tried to make sense of it all. Memories like photo paint picture, like you falling into a river after argument about go home with Mychael since you could find your cat, waffles.

What did he do to me?

“Whoever you are,” Mychael growled, his voice sharp and protective, “you’ve made a mistake. Leave. Now.” His tail flicked aggressively, and his ears flattened against his head as he glared at Vida.

“Made a mistake?” Vida snapped, their voice rising. “I know her! She’s my neighbor, my friend! Something’s wrong here—why is she out here with you? What the hell did you do to her, monster!?”

Mychael bared his teeth, a faint hiss escaping his lips. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the crossbow. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coldly, his body shifting to block Vida’s view of you and Michelle.

“Shut up!” you suddenly shouted, your voice breaking. You stood despite the trembling in your legs, clutching Michelle tightly as you fought the storm inside your mind. “Both of you, just shut up!”

The weight of the situation crushed you, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world was collapsing in on itself. Both Mychael and Vida froze, their arguments dying on their tongues as they turned their focus to you.

Tears streaked down your face as memories flooded into mind. You gasped for air, trying desperately to regain control. Michelle buried her face in your shoulder, her soft cries muffled against your neck. You held her tighter, trying to ground yourself even as your knees threatened to give out. 

“I… I just need to think,” you whispered shakily, glancing between Vida and Mychael. “Please. Stop fighting.”

“(Y/N)...” Vida’s voice was soft, pleading, as they took a tentative step closer.

Mychael immediately raised his crossbow, the tip aimed squarely at Vida’s neck. His body was rigid, his stance unwavering, and his piercing glare made it clear that one wrong move would end poorly.

Michelle whimpered in your arms, her small cries muffled against your shoulder as you tried to soothe her, your hand rubbing small circles on her back. But anger boiled inside you, raw and uncontrollable, the panic twisting into something sharper.

You glared at Vida, your voice trembling but firm. “Vida, is it? Get the fuck out of here. Now. I don’t want to see you again. Do you understand me!?”

Vida froze, their expression flickering between shock, anger, and disbelief. For a moment, it seemed like they might argue, their fists clenching at their sides. But then they took a shaky breath, casting one last, sorrowful look your way.

“Fine,” they muttered bitterly, their voice laced with hurt. Without another word, they turned and began walking away, Laika following at their heels.

Don't look back, Vida. Ran away, when you can.

You watched them disappear into the trees, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. Mychael didn’t lower his crossbow until they were completely out of sight. Even then, his eyes stayed fixed on the direction they’d gone, his tail flicking in agitation.

“I was missing… for months” you whispered to yourself, barely audible. Your legs wobbled as the realization settled like lead in your stomach.

Michelle shifted in your arms, her little hand clutching your shirt as if sensing your turmoil. “Mama?” she whimpered softly, her voice trembling.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” you lied through gritted teeth, your voice breaking under the weight of your unraveling thoughts.

Behind you, Mychael stepped closer, his ears pressed flat against his head and his tail low, a rare expression of vulnerability. “Firefly,” he said again, softer this time, his hand reaching toward you.

But you flinched away, glaring at him with a mix of rage and anguish. “Don’t,” you snapped, your voice raw. “Don’t touch me.”

He froze, his hand hovering in the air before falling back to his side. For a moment, his mask of calm shattered, his expression pained. “(Y/N), I can explain—”

“Explain?!” you interrupted, your voice rising as you struggled to keep it together. “Explain what, Mychael? Why can barely I remember anything? Why does Vida know me but I don’t know her? Why have I been missing?!”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the ground. The silence felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Let’s go,” you said sharply, adjusting Michelle in your arms. Your legs felt like they could give out any second, but you forced yourself forward, heading toward the path back home.

Mychael followed at a distance, his usual confident stride replaced with hesitation. His tail flicked nervously behind him, and his ears twitched as if listening for something—anything—that could justify the tension between you.

But all you could hear was the echo of Vida’s words: You’ve been missing for months.

As the cabin came into view, exhaustion hit you like a tidal wave. Your legs carried you inside on autopilot, the weight of the day's events pressing heavily on your shoulders. With trembling arms, you bathed Michelle to calm her down, then tucked her into bed. She looked up at you with wide, worried eyes, her small voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Mama, don’t cry…”

You forced a weak smile, brushing her soft hair back and kissing her forehead. “I’m okay, baby. Get some rest, okay?”

Michelle nodded reluctantly, curling up with her favorite blanket. Her breathing eventually slowed, becoming soft and steady as she drifted off to sleep. You stayed for a moment, watching her peaceful face, willing yourself to feel the same calm. But your mind churned with too many thoughts, and when you finally turned around, you found Mychael standing in the doorway.

His tall frame cast a shadow across the room, his expression unreadable. But his eyes told a different story—desperate, pleading, searching for forgiveness you weren’t ready to give.

You gently closed the door behind you as you left Michelle’s room, cutting off the faint sound of her breathing. Mychael was still standing there, his gaze downcast, unable to meet your eyes.

As you walked past him, he reached for your hand. “Firefly—”

“Is the bath ready?” you interrupted, your voice quiet but firm. “We can talk there… I don’t want Michelle to hear.”

His ears perked up slightly at your tone, but his expression remained pained. The sight of your tear-streaked face made his chest tighten, and guilt flashed in his golden eyes. He nodded, avoiding your gaze as you gently took his hand and led him toward the bathroom.

Inside, the faint warmth of steam filled the air, but it did little to ease the tension between you. Silently, you stripped off your clothes, and Mychael followed suit, his movements hesitant and self-conscious. His cheeks reddened slightly as he avoided looking directly at you, but this time, it wasn’t from shyness.

You stepped into the bath together, but unlike your usual routine, you didn’t lean back against his chest. Instead, you sat across from him, your arms wrapped around your knees as you met his gaze head-on. The silence between you was deafening, the air thick with unspoken words.

Finally, you sighed, breaking the tension. “So… tell me the truth, Mychael,” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion. “What happened to me? What aren’t you telling me?”

He hesitated, his tail flicking once before going still, his ears flattening slightly. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice tight and strained.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, leaning forward despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Because right now, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight, widening the chasm between you. Mychael’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

“I can use hypnotism,” he finally admitted, his voice cracking. “And… I…”

Tears began to spill from his eyes, his ears drooping as his tail uncoiled and tentatively wrapped around your ankle, seeking comfort. You felt the trembling in his body, and despite everything, you instinctively reached down to gently stroke the tip of his tail.

“I used it to suppress your memories,” he confessed, his voice breaking completely. “I… I was so afraid of losing you. Afraid of what you’d do if you remembered everything. I’m so sorry, Firefly. I never wanted to hurt you, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

Tears streamed down both of your faces as he bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. His pain was palpable, but so was yours, a deep, sharp ache in your chest as his words sank in.

You tilted your head back, staring at the ceiling as disbelief washed over you. The man you loved, the man who had protected and cherished you, had also been the one to take away a part of who you were.

“You… you suppressed my memories,” you murmured, the words foreign and bitter on your tongue. “You altered my mind, Mychael. How could you do that to me?”

He didn’t look up, his tears falling silently into the water. “I thought I was protecting you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I know now I was wrong. I was selfish. And I’ll regret it every single day for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of his confession pressing down on you like an unbearable burden. Trust, once shattered, wasn’t easily repaired. And while your heart ached at the sight of his visible remorse, the damage had already been done.

The man sitting across from you was both your greatest love and your deepest betrayer. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you weren’t sure you ever could.

Michelle’s innocent face flashed in your mind—your baby girl, who loved her father so purely, so deeply. How would this affect her? The thought of her bright, joyful spirit dimming under the weight of her parents falling apart was too much to bear.

You knew what you had to do.

For her sake.

Your chest ached with the decision, but it felt like the only path forward. You opened your eyes, fixing your gaze on Mychael. His own golden eyes were rimmed red with tears, his ears flattened with guilt and sorrow. He flinched slightly as you reached out, your fingers brushing through his soft golden locks. Gently, you stroked the smooth curve of his mushroom-like horn, the way you used to when seeking his comfort.

“Make me forget one more time,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “Please... for Michelle’s sake.”

Mychael froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. For a moment, he looked as if he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“Firefly...” His voice cracked, his tail curling tightly around himself. “No. I... I can’t. Not again. I already—”

“You will,” you cut him off, your tone firm despite the tears streaking your face. “Because this isn’t about us anymore. This is about her. She deserves to have both her parents. She deserves to be happy.”

Mychael’s hands trembled as they clenched the edge of the tub, his entire body tense with anguish. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“This isn’t about what you deserve,” you said softly, cupping his cheek. “This is about what she needs.”

His tears fell freely now, his resolve breaking under the weight of your words. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing tightly as though memorizing the warmth of your palm.

“I’ll do it,” he finally whispered, his voice shattered. “But... this time... I’ll make sure you never feel this pain again. I swear it.”

You nodded, your heart breaking even as you felt a sense of calm settle over you. You knew the cost of this decision, the ultimate sacrifice you were making for your daughter’s happiness.

As Mychael’s trembling hands wrapped around for you, his eyes faint glow of his magic beginning to swirl, you began to close your eyes of tiredness once more, your last coherent thought a prayer for Michelle.

For her, you would forget.

For her, you would start over.

Even if it meant losing yourself.

[thechaoticplayer]

Stressed Out!

Author's note: eheh... Shu yamino brain rot rawr- for that one person who requested this (I totally forgot I'm sorry I have the memory of a rock) kinda got rushed at the end bc I was riding this whilst on public transportation :D

Summary: Shu has been awfully stressed lately, with all the rigid schedules and barely any sleep- however you offer a great idea to soothe our beloved sorcerer (sorcerer? I barely even know her)

Contains: nsfw content, blowjob, riding him, FILTH, I'm gonna devour this man whole ahem sorry, praising, not very rough sex, x fem reader, Shu yamino x reader, established relationship, sub! shu

None of my works are proofread!

'Shu seems unusually stressed,' you think to yourself, watching your boyfriend wash the dishes in the kitchen. Your chin propped up on your palms as you study his weary figure. You've noticed the bags underneath his eyes, which about intensifies the exhausted aura around him. You tried to wash the dishes yourself, but he protested, saying he was alright.

Which was bullshit. Shu always took care of you, so now it's your turn to take care of him.

You stand up from your chair by the counter, sauntering over to the back of him. You wrap your arms around his mid riff, pressing your chest against his back. Shu visibly stiffens for a moment, and then relaxes into your touch, rocking back and forth.

"Baby, you need to relax. You're such a workaholic," you mumble, ear against his back to hear his steady heartbeat.

"I just have a couple more things to do, don't worry about me," Shu replies, tossing a smile over his shoulder. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he scrubs. "Then after that, I promise to relax and snuggle with you. Okay?"

You grumble, squeezing him hard and forcing him to grunt. "No. After you're done with those dishes, you're coming with me."

Shu glances back at you, using his magic to make the dish float into the dishwasher. "But-"

"No buts. Unless you rather me ignore you for the next week?" You threaten, arching a brow at him.

He shakes his head instantaneously. "Of course not!"

"Good." You give his back a light kiss. "I hate it when my boyfriend is so troubled. It's my duty to help you, you know."

"I know," Shu sighs, rinsing a bowl. "It's just between streaming and taxes and errand shopping... there's a lot for me to do."

"I can do all of those things."

"I know you can but..."

"But what?"

Shu puts away the final dish, drying his hands off. You back away so he can turn to face you. He scratches his neck. "It's just... I feel like I need to be the one to do things for you. I'm your boyfriend. I need to make sure you have all your needs met."

"I'm your girlfriend. I need to make sure your needs are met too," you counter, taking his hands in yours. Shu stares at your joined hands. "Being in a relationship doesn't mean one person has to do all the heavy lifting. Both have to shoulder each other's burdens and take care of each other. A two way street, if you will."

Shu tilts his head, watching you closely. A small smile adorns his face. He tugs you closer to you and brushes his lips against your forehead. "Thank you."

You beam at him happily and begin to guide Shu to the bedroom. "You're welcome! Now follow me."

The sorcerer obediently follows, your hand intertwined in his. You kick open the door dramatically, eliciting a exuberant laugh from him. You shuffle to the bed, plop down, and yanking him down with you. Shu lands beside you on his side and he laughs harder. You shift onto your side to face him, watching his face glow.

Shu slowly stops, his eyes traveling your face. A slight blush dusts his cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" You blink.

"Like..." Shu's gaze darts to the ceiling for a second. Then looks back at you. "With hearts in your eyes."

"Because I love you silly," you answer, a hand cupping his cheek. Shu nuzzles into it and you giggle. "I want to take care of you and love you."

His blush deepens and it he looks just so cute! You move closer to him, your nose bumping his. The sorcerer looks at you with slightly wide eyes, appearing like a startled cat. A puff of laughter brushes against his face from you. Shu's hand finds its home on the dip of your waist just as you lean in for a kiss.

It was gentle, and his lips were soft. A sign of affection and endearment. It was brief as you pulled back, however Shu chased your lips into another kiss, this time deeper and passionate. He almost seemed desperate.

You had to pull away for air, nearly gasping as your own cheeks warmed. Staring at each other with half-lidded eyes.

"Please..." A whisper so faint, you thought you weren't hearing right. The sorcerer's hand squeezed your waist, and you knew you were hearing right.

He needed you. And you knew exactly what to do.

You climb atop of your boyfriend, your mouth against his yet again. A soft whine muffled as you perch on him, one hand traveling down from his collarbone, down to his stomach. Shu's muscles tense underneath your touch.

Your lips ghost over his jawline, pressing a soft kiss there. Then your kisses trail down to the spot right under his ear. A little nip at the sensitive skin makes his breath hitch and you smile.

Your fingers dance across his stomach before sliding down to his pants. Just from touch alone, you can feel the tent growing underneath his sweatpants. And as you do so, Shu's hips jolt up slightly. You slowly circle the area before palming him through his pants.

"Mm..." A soft moan. You grip him gently and trace the tip, and the precum seeps through the fabric. His legs twitch as you continue your ministrations.

The sorcerer pants heavily, eyelids drooping and a red flush on his face as you stroke him, as well as kissing down his neck. Shu seems awfully sensitive to each of your touches. And very vocal.

"Baby please..." Shu whispers, bucking his hips up.

"Please what my love?" You coo, making him even more redder.

"I want you to..." he trails off, turning his head as if he were ashamed. His long hair spreads around his head like a halo and you cock your head to the side to look at him.

You hum, a slight puzzled look on your face. Shu glances back at you, biting his lip. Thinking if he should ask this of you or not.

"Do you want me to...?" Your nails drag across his pants, to the waistband and carefully tug down. Shu practically stops breathing, but doesn't tell you to stop.

You continue pulling down the waistband of both his sweats and boxers, his hard erection springing out. You could see every individual vein pulsing, the pre cum leaking from the rosy tip. You scoot backwards, one foot on the floor, then the other. You kneel on the floor, taking his base in a hand. Shu gets up on his elbows, watching with his chest heaving.

You squeeze and a low moan escapes your boyfriend. You trace a vein with a finger, then slip his length in your mouth. The reaction you get him from is perfect. A high whimper and Shu's head thrown back, hips slanted upward. You bob your head up and down, your tongue flattening against your boyfriend's tip. As you swallow him, you pump the base and beautiful noises exit from Shu's lips. His hand takes your hair, moving it out of your face.

"Feel so good, oh god," Shu gasps, shaking on his elbows. "D-doing so good- mm!"

You suck gently on the head of his cock and the sorcerer mewls, the sweetest noise you've heard. Your stomach flips, rubbing your thighs together as the heat flames in the bottom of your tummy.

With a wet pop, Shu's length pops out your mouth as you climb back on top of him. Your boyfriend watches you with a hand covering his mouth, ears bright pink. You quickly pull off your pants and panties, lining up his dick with your entrance.

Your boyfriend's eyes widen. "W-wait-!"

You descend upon his length and you both moan in unison. You can feel him in your walls, pulsing and stretching you out deliciously. Shu's hands grip your hips hard, his nails digging into your skin. His eyes shut, and you can see tears forming in the corners. With just one roll of your hips, the sorcerer has fallen apart.

"A-ah, baby, just like that," he moans, a mix of whimpers from his throat. "Please please please please-"

You begin to bounce up and down, slick covering his length and pelvis. Shu's head falls back onto the sheets as your core begins to milk his cock. Clenching around his erection, Shu was already so sensitive that within seconds he cums hard, a guttural moan ripping from his throat. Strings of his knot coats your insides and you gasp at the feeling. You slow down, the tightness in your stomach forming but you have already done what you needed.

"G-go ahead," Shu breathes, looking at you with pieces of his hair sticking to his forehead.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, your hands on his stomach. "But you already... came."

Shu shakes his head, slowly sitting up and the head of his cock kisses your g-spot. You bite your lip. "Want you to cum too."

You nod, before raising your hips down and dropping down. Shu swallows back his whines, not minding being overstimulated if it meant your enjoyment too. The relationship goes two ways, right?

"Just a bit- m-more," you whisper in his ear with stuttered breaths. A groan in response. You roll your hips and the tightness in your stomach just nearly gets there- you drop yourself onto his length again and you release, vision sparking white as you moan.

You collapse against him, Shu holding you in his arms as he falls back onto the mattress, trying to regain his breath. The sorcerer was still sheathed inside you, but neither of you made the move to... well move.

"Thank you so much," Shu whispers in your ear, kissing your temple lovingly. "It felt so good. I loved it."

You smile cheerfully. "I'm glad."

After a trip to the shower and getting into pajamas, you two cuddle together and watched movies for the rest of the day.

[deus-lapidis]

Forever and always.

— Diluc’s Wedding Layout [modern]

Characters: Diluc x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

A/N: this is written for @hiraya-rawr as a specialty treat in hopes of bringing her some joy. Therefore it was crafted with a female reader in mind, but imo, fuck gender norms and read it if you want to read it, as long as you’re comfortable <3

I’m also really sorry for being like…dead.. streaming and irl matters have consumed my time and genshin hasn’t been a bit tiring. I’m very hyped about Fontaine though!

Preparation and Planning [hehe…PP]

The attire

Diluc likes to spoil you. He has the money from his family business and on what else should he be spending it on if not on things that conjure such a sweet smile on your face :>

Though he cannot come with you to pick out your wedding dress, he makes sure that at least one of his maids will accompany you and of course bear his request in mind; for his lover to get nothing but the best, the finest and the most extraordinary to match your person!

Whatever you wish for, he will absolutely fund. Pearls or dainty jewels, lace or maybe silk, a veil or maybe a crown even? It will be yours, just say the word.

When it comes to his suit picking though, he has his brother tagging along with Venti and Rosaria, since they all invited themselves to the attire picking occasion. They spent so much time with the dawn winery heir that they practically HAVE to join in.

They make lots of stupid remarks though and poke fun, while having champagne, so Diluc also decides to confide in his childhood friend Jean and her little sister Barbara, texting the siblings to ask for their opinion.

They settle on a classy and sleek looking black suit with a few bronze touches that remind of his coat.

He gets a bit emotional once seeing himself in his wedding attire, cause then it really sinks in. He’s here. Picking out the suit that he’s gonna wear to his wedding, to YOUR wedding. Oh my god, he’s gonna marry you. You, the love of his life and his beloved partner ohdeararchons—

The bubbling champagne glasses of his cheery friends clink, a toast in the background, as he himself — refraining from alcohol while picking out such important garments — puts on his fifth potential wedding suit. The previous ones have been quite beautiful, but not to his taste in the end and he strived for your wedding to be absolutely perfect. While he was absentmindedly buttoning his black dress shirt, his thoughts drifted to you, his lovely fiancée. A small smile stretched out on his lips, one that he couldn’t fight when he thought of you, his ears dusted pink when he allowed himself to picture you in a wedding gown. Archons, was he ever so smitten.

The wedding cake

You two go to a local, fancy bakery to taste test and assemble your dream wedding cake.

That part was far less nerve wrecking, since it also sort of felt like a sweet date. You two were spending time at the bakery together and while he was actually never that fond of sweets, he enjoyed a lot of the cakes.

He watched you with his gentle vermilion gaze, he was utterly and hopelessly smitten <3

Well frankly said he also found that they tasted a lot better, since you were insisting on feeding him the different cake flavours :)

You settled on a dark chocolate cake, since it seemed to be a rather classic flavour, rich and bittersweet.

The sweet scents of cake samples waft through the tasting room, you sitting there with him and gleefully trying the next flavour.

“Mhm! Diluc, try this. I think you’ll like it.” You lifted the fork to his lips, offering your fiancé a bite of coffee cake, gently prodding his mouth with the utensil.

He chuckled at your gesture, smitten eyes gazing at you in amusement, before accepting the bite and letting the cake melt on his tongue.

He really could get used to this.

The actual wedding:

Boy, he’s so nervous.

So here’s the thing, his father had always been an anchor for him for anxious moments in his young years, Crepus being there to validate and reassure his son. During adulthood he found himself bottling things up and managing just fine, yet in this moment, he feels like a vulnerable young boy again. Yes, he’s suited up for his adult wedding with his very adult beloved. His once innocent eyes, now matured over time, staring back at him in the mirror, his strong facial features of an unshakable man and yet he feels so young and helpless.

His brother had to come and calm him down a little, even almost resorting to calling you via phone to help his awkward redhead brother relax, but they ended up managing on their own.

(Venti put on a stupid song and Diluc’s nervousness easily transformed into stressed aggravation.)

The first look had him in tears. He’s quite sniffly, but he’s trying to contain himself for the sake of the wedding and his image. Truthfully, he’s really excited to marry you. You are wonderful inside and out and he can’t wait for you to be his and for him to be yours.

As soon as he (somewhat) recovered, he opted to wrap his arms around you, forehead pressing against yours, as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

“I love you. My darling.”

Finally, it was was ceremony time! Tears were shed. A lot of them. Vows were exchanged through more tears and croaked out chuckles.

The kiss was chaste and loving, just utterly perfect, a perfect start for your married life.

Bennett cried, Razor was happy to be included, Klee was the little flower girl, Fischl was ??? Oz was translating.

Kaeya held the absolutely most perfect speech as the best man. More tears were shed. Both because of gooey soft feelings and just utter amusement at his funny remarks and embarrassing Diluc anecdotes.

The first dance was a dreamy but nervous waltz, Diluc’s refined training as a young boy slipping out as he lead you. Gently swirling you while his own eyes focused on your shared joy, smiling ever so softly at you in an absolutely love drunk fashion.

Diluc offered you his hand, leading you to the dance floor when his brother announced the first dance of the newlyweds.

Pulling you closer to his body, he placed one hand on your waist, while the other held your right hand, he smiled encouragingly when you placed your left hand on his shoulder.

You followed his steps, swaying and twirling to the familiar music. Your eyes never breaking away from each other, smitten love radiating from the both of you.

He looked incredibly handsome like this, hair out of his face, lips curled upwards in happiness. You never wanted to forget this moment.

In his eyes, your bright smile was something to be engraved and tucked away into his heart forever.

Eventually the music died down, leaving you two swaying in each other’s arms happily, him pressing a kiss on your forehead, before resting his head against yours.

“I love you. Forever and always.”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Dragging my arse through the door of the gym after an absolute clusterfuck of a day, "do it for him and his slutty fingering gloves."

[pttwice]

momo toddles up to jihyo, her footsteps light (or so she thinks) as she sneaks up to jihyo's desk. she raises her arms, the slightly too large hood of her brown bear onesie obscuring her view of jihyo even more.

"rawr!" momo pops up, raising her arms as high as she can to try and scare her mama.

jihyo jumps, not too scared since momo dragged down every pillow and the remote on her way over to scare her. "oh no! where did you come from, little bear? did you eat my baby?"

momo giggles and rawrs again, her growl turning into a squeal as momo scoops her up. she carries the little to the couch and sets her down, lifting her shirt so she can tickle it.

"where's my little peach? let her go, you mean bear!" jihyo's words sound harsh, but her tone is full of nothing but adoration as she pushes the onesie hood back.

"not a bear, mama! momo! momo!" momo giggles and reaches for jihyo's face, gently tugging it down so their noses are touching.

jihyo presses a gentle kiss to momo's chin, a sigh of relief leaving her. "oh, thank goodness. there's my little peach."

"momo scawy."

jihyo nods, a wide grin on her face as she peppers kisses across momo's forehead. she chuckles softly, the sound of their laughter filling the room. "did a bear gobble you up, little peach?"

momo shakes her head vigorously and smiles. she presses a big, wet kiss to jihyo's cheek and pulls her hood back over her head. "no, mama! jus' jammies."

jihyo sighs another breath in relief and nods. "oooh, that's right, little peach. mama forgot that you had such a comfy onesie. it got super cold last night, huh?"

momo nods and sits up. she curls herself into jihyo's lap, her head tucked underneath jihyo's chin. she's about to ask her mama a question, but her tummy growling like she did only a few minutes ago interrupts her.

"sounds like someone's hungry from scaring mama, isn't she?"

momo nods and pats her tummy. she tilts her head, looking up at jihyo as she points to her open mouth.

"okay, little bear. let's get you some food, huh?"

[georgegraphys]

Max "The "dutch lion" of the Netherlands royal army. Crown prince of netherlands. Masters of all sorts. Winning every combat and fight. Go to the battlefield for everyone he loves" Verstappen

George "pampered british prince who calls his Maxie Taxie "rawr rawr", Nico's princess and Jenson's cutesy little brother. Never touch a sword. Never lift his finger. Never roll on the mud" Russell

Something me and Sharu made

[woso-dreamzzz]

Chook's Halloween

Kewis x Child!Reader

Summary: The thirteenth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Looking good, Sam!" Erin whistles," Indiana Jones!"

Sam rolls her eyes. "Don't say that with Chook around. She won't be very happy."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I'm not Indiana Jones."

"Yes, you are. You're all-" Erin makes a vague gesture "-Sexy."

Sam laughs. "Well don't let Kristie hear you say that."

"If you're not Indiana Jones then who are you?"

"Owen Grady."

"Who?"

"Owen Grady."

"Who's that? Your neighbour?"

"No," Sam replies, rolling her eyes," The guy from Jurassic World."

Clarity dawns in Erin's eyes. "Oh, so this is a Chook costume."

"Yeah," Sam admits," It's a Chook costume. She was very excited. Kristie's meant to be Claire, Helen's Maisie."

"And Chook's a dinosaur?"

Sam sighs. "And Chook's a dinosaur."

The door to the gym swings open again and someone shrieks.

You trot in, arms lifted up like a dinosaur.

"Well," Erin says," That's certainly-"

"Blue!" You say, pulling up your velociraptor mask to reveal your face," I'm Blue, Erin! From Jurassic World! Rawr!"

Your excitement is palpable as you run around the gym in my dinosaur costume.

"Should I know who Blue is?" Erin asks as she watches you sneak up behind Millie to scare her.

"It's the velociraptor from Jurassic World," Sam explains," The one that doesn't die."

"They die?"

"Yeah but don't bring it up to Chook. It makes her cry."

Halloween is always hit or miss for you.

You either enjoy it so much you're bursting from happiness or you're too scared to even watch some Halloween movies with your mothers and spend your time curled up with Helen and your toys.

Sam doesn't want this ruined for you even if it's just an accidental comment on Erin's part.

"Mom!" You call and Sam turns to give you some attention.

"Yes, Chook?"

"Mom, look! I'm a dinosaur! Rawr!"

"Wow," Sam says in mock shock," You really scared me there, Chook."

"Don't worry, Mom," You say, patting her side," I'm not actually a real dinosaur. It's just a mask. See." You pull your mask up so Sam can see your face. "It's still me."

Sam looks down at you with a fond smile, lightly ruffling your hair and tugging at the tail at the back of your costume. "Well I'm glad it's still you Chook. I'd hate to have to explain to Mommy that we've got a little dinosaur now and not a little girl."

"Don't worry," You tell her," I'm not old enough for be a full dinosaur yet. Maybe next year though."

Sam laughs, sliding your mask back over your face. "Maybe next year."

Training is lots of fun with everyone so impressed by your dinosaur costume and the staff even give you lots of sweeties even though you didn't Trick-or-Treat them.

"Mommy!" You call as Sam unlocks the apartment door," Mommy, we're back!"

Kristie pops her head around the wall. "Oh, wow, Chook, looking good."

"Silly, Mommy," You rebuke her, giggling as she flutters kisses over your face," You saw me this morning."

"And I can't think you're still looking good? Maybe you're the silly one Chook."

"You're not dressed yet," You look at Kristie through narrowed eyes," You have to dress up, Mommy. It's a family costume. It can't just be me, Mom and Helen."

Kristie laughs. "There's plenty of time. We've still got to eat dinner before we go trick or treating."

You huff, blowing out all of your air noisily. "But that's ages away!"

Kristie ruffles your hair, taking your mask from you to put on the side. "Well little dinosaurs like you can't go out trick or treating without being fully fed. You might eat everyone!"

"Silly, Mommy. I'm not big enough to eat people yet."

"I don't look the way she said 'yet'," Sam snickers to Kristie before addressing you," Well, you won't get big enough to do that if you don't eat. Mommy's cooked us some dino nuggies."

You narrow your eyes in thought, darting them between Sam and Kristie.

"Triceratops nuggies?"

"Uh-huh."

You nod. "Good because they're herbivores. Carnivores like me eat herbivores!"

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter (Part 12)

From now on, parts will come out on AO3 and tumblr simultaneously.

The part in which Astarion literally asks "Want to know what else is big?" *wink wink*

Spurred on by all the surprises and shocks of the night Astarion and Tav share a short moment of shameless flirting in a dark alleyway - rawr. Because for Astarion there is never a bad moment to make Tav squirm.

Background music for their flirtatious behaviour: Whatchugot - Caro Emerald

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

(Gif from here!)

You made to leave the courtyard through a small iron gate that led to a dark alley. At the end of it guards were positioned. You both positioned yourself to cling to the darkness of the alleyway – this felt incredibly familiar by now. They couldn’t see you now since you were hidden by shadows, but this exit was not an option.

“So, you’re the resident drunkard. Any ideas on how to sneak around them?”, Astarion asked with a whisper while crouching down next to you. You threw him a death glare but nodded and moved ahead.

There were several alleys connected to this one through which one could easily almost all of the lower city. And you knew almost all of them, an occupational advantage you were now more than happy to have.

So, you snuck down several shadowy alleys in complete silence. You didn’t even feel like you needed to look back and check on Astarion. Far as you knew, he was probably more proficient in this than you were.

When several minutes had passed and you were several streets away from the tavern you slowly stood up and said: “I guess we are far enough.” “Good, this brings back memories I am not fond of at all”, Astarion replied with disgust and he almost gagged when a rat decided to pitter-patter directly across his foot.

“I’m sorry I have to make you do this, Astarion”, you replied to that and looked at him with compassion. “Don’t worry, my love, I can handle myself. Also” – here he stepped closer to you with a mischievous twinkle in his red eyes – “I have quite a plethora of ideas how to replace said memories with much better ones.” He came closer while his voice dropped lower making you walk back until he had you against a wall for the second time this night. He placed one of his hands with those long, elegant fingers next to your head and leaned to you but not quite touching you. You leaned back against a wall, putting one foot up on it in a relaxed manner and let your head rest against the stones. You felt like a girl being chatted up by the boy she had been eyeing the entire evening.

“Plethora, hm? That’s quite a big word to use on someone that had so much to drink”, you answered and looked down at Astarion’s chest. His shirt had opened up a bit more because of the fight and flight. You lifted your hands to the strings spanning over his opened collar and started toying with them while making doe eyes at your vampire. He leaned in even closer his face so close you could see the fine lines in his iris even in the dark. “You want to know what else is big?”, he purred, his voice deep and dripping with sinful promise.

You chose to make him work for it. “Hmm, quite a few things spring to mind, frankly”, you replied playfully and arched your back a little to raise your breasts coquettishly into Astarion’s field of view. He raised an eyebrow in appreciation and took in the view, tongue in cheek. You continued: “Your vocabulary, for starters… your love for me… your fangs… your ego, certainly…” His eyes narrowed at you in suspicion. He wasn’t quite sure if you were teasing him but he still wasn’t above enjoying to watch you writhe in the narrow space between his body and the wall. “Also”, you raised your voice and made big eyes at him as if you’d only just thought of something. Astarion’s lips opened in anticipation, and he moved closer into your space. “Your co…” – his eyes sparked at you, his lips almost at your neck – “omprehensive knowledge of all things having to do with arts, literature and history.”

Astarion stopped, only millimetres from your neck. You could barely stop yourself from snorting and laughing but wanted to see his reaction to your insolent behaviour and dearly hoped he wouldn’t decide to just rip your throat out.

But the vampire just broke down laughing manically and buried his face on your shoulder. You couldn’t hold it in now too and so you laughed until your tummy hurt and tears streamed down your face. It was certainly amplified by all the happenings of the night and the fact that you were absolutely exhausted, but you couldn’t care less.

Astarion slowly let his face slide off your shoulder slowly while still chuckling and looked up at you whose face was contorted by laughter. He grabbed your face with both hands a planted a silly, loud, wet and smacking smooch on your mouth. “You know how much I love you, my sweet sweet darling?”, Astarion asked and gave you another smooch. You made a disgusted face and tried to push him away while sticking your tongue out in revulsion: “Eww!” But he was stronger than you and forced you to endure it. “I love you and you’re also the best friend I could imagine”, Astarion beamed at you. “Yeah, who the fuck other than me would put up with you idiot”, you said grumpily and grabbed the flap of his shirt collar to wipe his spit of your mouth. “Love you too though, and you’re also my best friend”, you mumbled back to him to which you received a genuine sweet kiss from the pale elf.

“Did the ‘you wanna know what else is big’ line ever work though? That was low even for you”, you asked him. He simply shrugged and leaned his head to one side while looking at you: “Good thing then I won’t need lines like these to get in your pants. Or flattery. Next time I’ll just kick the legs out from right under you and just have my way with you on the street without saying a single word – just moaning into one of your pointy ears, love.”

Whoops, that absolutely did the trick. You blushed and gulped at his ‘promise’, your core clenched. The bastard just smirked at you – knowing he had won. “But thanks for ruining the mood, you idiot”, he said and placed his lips on your forehead for a brief moment. “It’s not like you had me all hot and bothered since before we arrived at Maeve’s and kept teasing me the entire night or anything”, he sighed dramatically. “You’re one to talk, Astarion, Sir ‘There will be no boundaries when we’ll be alone’.” “Oh, and look where we’re at right now, love”, Astarion countered and leaned closer to you again. The mood certainly had swung back to steaming hot quite quickly. And the sparkle in Astarion’s ruby eyes did nothing to cool your lust for this man.

The blade that suddenly appeared at his throat though worked wonders and replaced the fire with icy dread.

Tags: @daedriclys