#stream barriers or else

[bongwateriero]

i hope barriers haters all explode today

[ctommy-chileno]

I don't really want Tommy to join the qsmp He just doesn't have the vibe for it I can't explain it more than that

[fairy-angel222]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 ft. Toji Fushiguro

᧔♡᧓ in which Toji’s a virgin killer and you’re next for his collection

He’s fucking you on his cock with no mercy, using your tight virgin pussy as a flesh light for his own pleasure. You were so naive, so easy. It made him happy how easily you trusted him. It almost made him feel bad. Almost.

“F-fuck— Toji,” you moaned, nails digging into his biceps as he roughly moved you up and down on his cock. One of his veiny hands wrapped tightly around your throat as he chuckled into your ear. “Does that feel good baby? Feel good when I break that tight lil pussy in?”

“Mhm, feels so good. I love it s’ much,” you let out a broken mewl, your lips parted in small moans and cries as you clenched down on the thick cock slamming up into you.

There were little blinking cameras recording the scandal. One set up to specifically zoom in on the way your puffy cunt was swallowing his fat cock to the brim, your hole stretching to suck in every inch of him. The other was positioned perfectly to capture your cute facial expressions. “Such a little fucking slut hmm? Your first ever dicking and you’re getting on like this. This pussy was meant to take my cock… fuck, do you feel that? Feel how deep i am?

You whined tearily, your nails finally breaking past the barrier of his skin when he pressed down on the bulge in your stomach, feeling a coil building within the walls your abdomen. “I’m—” you cut yourself off with a choked whimper “‘M gonna cum— feels..” another whimper, “haah- feels weird.” you cried out.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as he sped up his pace. His cock sloppily thrusting up into your wetness with his balls slapping noisily against your swollen clit. Toji’s hand left your neck, digging into your cheeks and pulling your face up straight.

“Come on little slut, make a fucking mess f’ me. Such a dirty, dirty girl.” he growled out, watching as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. Your brain finally dumbing down as you began to babble.

You let out a high pitched cry, more tears pooling along your bottom lashes as your body shook uncontrollably. He was so damn deep in you. And it felt so good. “O-oh fuckk— Toji ‘m cumming, ahh ‘m cumming- ‘m—”

Toji watched as your toes visibly curled, your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you squirted on his cock. “There we go,” he cooed, eyes darkening as your pussy clenched down on him hard, gushing stream after stream of the clear liquid until his thighs were soaked.

Your body trembled as you were fucked through your orgasm, Toji’s grin wider than ever as he seemingly stared down a picture on his wall. “Tell me pretty slut, who’s fucking you this good?”

You only whimpered, your head fuzzy as an incoherent babble of his name escaped past your lips. Toji scowled, his thrusts getting hard and slow between each word as his fingers wrapped into your hair. “I said. Who is fucking you this good? Ruining this pussy for anyone else?”

“Y-you. You are Toji.”

He smiled, letting go of the makeshift ponytail to wipe away your tears of pleasure. Fingers gliding lower until they slipped past your lips to press on your tongue. “Good girl.”

He couldn’t wait to add your video to his collection. Maybe he’d keep fucking you on a regular and make you your very own folder. There was no way in hell he was letting you go.

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Scorching Sun

My desperate attempt to redeem the ending scene

Astarion is running away from the sunlight once the tadpole is gone, and Tav is nowhere to be seen.

Tags: hurt/comfort

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The excruciating pain pierces Astarion as his skin starts burning.

The sun's searing rays cause agony from which there is no respite. The tadpole's grip finally releases him. Still, as it does, it leaves behind a gaping void, one filled with a mind that races with panic and anxiety, amplifying the horrors that lie ahead.

Astarion is scared. He has never felt so frightened in his life. Not when he awoke in his coffin two centuries ago, dying of hunger and pain. Not when Cazador put him through horrors and torments. Not when he was sealed in the tomb for an entire year. Not when he thought Tav was dying.

Because now he is burning alive.

Astarion desperately looks at his companions seeking support, but instead, he sees disgust on their faces as if without tadpoles they suddenly realize Astarion is a vampire.

He hears a chuckle, probably from Gale, that "Now our friend has to return to shadows" and another voice, "Seems like we won't see him again soon."

Once trusted friends now cruelly mock him, their laughter an eerie cacophony that reverberates in the depths of Astarion's consciousness. Each word stabs his undead heart.

You are nowhere to be seen. You are absent when he needs you the most.

Astarion runs toward the huge crates at the pier, which cast a comforting shadow. Astarion stumbles – he can't see anything; the sun has burnt his eyes. By touch, he finally gets to the shadows, curls up in the corner, and presses his legs to the chest.

Eyesight finally recovers. Astarion hears distant voices – someone laughs, someone cheers. He is jealous. Why can't he be there, with them, in the sunlight? Didn't he suffer too much? Didn't he fight the Brain with the rest? Why, why?

Tears stream down his cheeks. Tears of pain, tears of desperation, resentment, injustice.

Betrayal.

As the sun slowly rises, a merciful shadow retreats, and a harsh ray of light burns Astarion's right leg. The once-safe haven has become dangerous, and despair compels Astarion to seek refuge in the nearest house. The sun continues to scorch him, subjecting him to wave after wave of searing pain.

However, an invisible barrier obstructs his path, granting entry only upon invitation, offering no respite for the vampire. Astarion is left to writhe in the agony of the daylight.

He must go to the Inn. The vampire's invitation is forever, but the city lies in ruins, with only fleeting shadows left. Baldurians cheer, praising the gods for saving them from unimaginable horrors. Amidst the joy and light, Astarion feels like crying, for he knows he doesn't belong here. Life, light, and happiness are not for him; he remains a creature of the night, a monster. His foolish hope for anything else has faded away.

At last, he reaches the Inn. Astarion pushes the door open and collapses on his knees, palms pressed into the wooden floor. The pain clings to his body like acid sweat. The tavern is empty, and Astarion manages to stumble upstairs, each step feeling like an eternity. Even the cruelest tortures in Cazador's mansion did not leave him feeling so helpless and weak.

Finally, he crawls into the room he once shared with you and collapses onto the bed. The dark room envelops Astarion like a lover, providing a shred of safety. The echoes of his former companions' laughter still torment the vampire like cruel ghosts from the past.

In desperation, Astarion questions if he heard your voice. Were your promises of love empty words? Could you no longer want him, and the tadpole was the sole reason for your affection? These tormenting thoughts whirl in his mind, threatening to drown him as hunger and pain draw him closer to the abyss.

The hunger is insatiable, gut-wrenching. The tadpole had once dulled it like a medicine. Now, it is back, threatening to turn Astarion into a feral, mindless monster.

Astarion clenches his fingers, trying to grasp the reality: he is alive, his master is dead, and he is free. But it all means nothing.

Hours pass, and Astarion attempts to enter a trance to escape the agony, but his sunburnt body refuses to cooperate. He longs for respite, for a brief escape from reality, but the pain and dark thoughts overwhelm him.

Yes, he did hear your voice in that laughter, and he envisions an evil grin on your face. Perhaps you despise him and have moved on to someone else. Silent tears stream down his face, bearing witness to the profound betrayal he feels from those he once trusted and loved and to the unending nightmare of his existence.

Then, he hears footsteps. The door swings open.

"Astarion! I should have known you were heading here," you exclaim as you sit on the bed and take his hand.

Astarion looks at you in disbelief. Your face, your voice, your scent. You are back. He wants to grab you, to press his face against your collarbone. But he is so weak he can't move.

"Does it hurt?" you ask. Astarion nods, and you press your lips to his knuckles.

"I'm so sorry. I fainted when the tadpole was removed. When I woke up, they told me you had run away, and I've been trying to find you ever since. Hey, look at me," you gently caress his cheek. "I am here. I'm not going anywhere."

Astarion finally manages to look into your eyes. He sees the same love, care, kind smile, hope, and support he thought he had lost.

"I thought… I thought you were never coming back," he whispers.

"Well, if you had run even further, I would have lost you forever," you say.

The tears prickle his eyes once again. How could he have ever doubted you? What kind of person was he to assume that his lover would betray him?

"You didn't answer if it hurts."

"Like a hellplane," he replies.

"I am so sorry. I truly am."

Astarion finally manages to lift his hands and he presses you against his chest. You roll over and lie beside him, putting your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his right hand around you as you place your hand on his stomach.

There are so many things he wants to say to you but simply can't.

"What are we going to do next?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I don't know. What do you want?"

"Anything that doesn't involve staying in this city. We could settle somewhere…"

"It would be tediously boring," Astarion interjects.

"Agreed. We'll always have time for that. Maybe we should go to the Underdark to help other spawns."

He strokes your hair. "I'm not taking a living person to a den of seven thousand vampires, that's for sure."

Astarion presses you tighter, wanting to feel your heartbeat. Then, a realization washes over him: he is no longer in pain. His skin doesn't burn, and his muscles aren't being torn apart. Your presence alone alleviates his suffering. He kisses your forehead and responds with a smile.

"What do you think about getting away? Traveling with me and seeing the world?" you finally propose.

"Darling, I thought you'd never suggest it. I'm sick of this place."

"And we can find a cure for you. There are probably ways to allow you to walk in the sun or even reverse your vampirism. This world is full of cruel wonders, so why not give it a try?"

He nods and gazes at your face as if trying to memorize every little detail.

"I'm not going anywhere, Astarion," you smile. "Stop looking at me as if I'm going to disappear." You sit up and ask, "Can I kiss you?"

"Only if you promise me something," Astarion counters.

"What is it?"

"Stop asking for permission to touch or kiss me."

"You sure?" you hesitate.

"Yes. Stop treating me as if I'm made of glass. It's you. Your touches can never be unwelcome."

You giggle and kiss him. At that moment, you are the two happiest people in the world.

**

You both lay in each other's arms until sunset. When night falls, you leave the city walls and enter the wilderness. You continue forward, holding hands as if afraid to lose each other. Astarion's undead heart rejoices. He has everything a man needs.

Freedom.

A woman he loves, who loves him in return.

A future.

He would be a fool to exchange all this for false promises of power.

Suddenly, you stop, wrap your hands around his neck, and press your lips against his. Then, you proceed to kiss his cheeks, his forehead, and everything you can reach while standing on the ground.

He flinches for a second but then hugs you back and tightens his grip.

"Never ask for permission," he whispers into your ear. "You are always invited."

[healinghyunjin]

Blossom

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader (fem)

Genre: crack, smut, fluff; historical!AU, magic!AU, fuck-or-die(ish)!AU, enemies(ish)-to-lovers!AU, 18+

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, outdated sexual norms/attitudes, public sex.

Author’s Note: After another ~long~ hiatus... I'm back! The premise of this fic is heavily inspired by a super old, now deleted AO3 fic I once read for a now dead fandom (showing my age here for you children lol). I love navigating these forced interaction scenarios - so please let me know your thoughts! Feedback and reblogs are love as always - and I now have a Ko-Fi that I would really appreciate contributions to as well (linked in my Bio)! Thank you for your support~

Summary: But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court. 

You were sure you looked like a thundercloud - dark skirts swirling, white sparks crackling from your fingertips - as you stalked through the castle towards the royal chambers.

“Milady!” Changbin chased after you, your long-suffering knight trying his best to head you off. “His Majesty is in a council meeting right now,” he huffed out. “Maybe we can seek an audience another time?”

“I don’t ‘seek audiences’ from His Majesty, Bin,” the title grating in your mouth. “I talk to Kim Seungmin when I want to talk to Kim Seungmin - especially when he wants to pretend like I don’t exist.” 

You were laying it on a bit thick. But you were the High Sorceress. You had no insignificant amount of pride yourself, and nothing made your temper flare like Seungmin outmaneuvering you - exactly like he’d just done. 

You arrived at the heavy wrought iron doors of Seungmin’s private chambers and, with a swish of your palm, sent the doors flying open, almost rattling off their hinges. A tableful of lords turned around to gawk at you - but you only had eyes for the man at the head of the table. He leaned back in his chair, watching you stalk into the room with a barely concealed grin. “And there she is.” The faint note of humor in Seungmin’s voice made you want to wring his neck.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted in the frostiest voice you could muster up. 

Seungmin smirked. “You only use my proper title when you’re fit to rip my throat out, Lady Sorceress.” 

You ignored the barb. “We have an urgent matter to discuss, my lord.”

One of the old, stodgy lords piped up in a reedy, disapproving voice. “What can take precedence over matters of council and state, Sorceress?”

“Matters of national security, Lord Park.” Seungmin rose to his feet, making everyone else jump up to theirs as well. “Council is adjourned, my lords.”

You held your head high as the councilmen streamed out of the room around you, some barely bothering to disguise their resentment. Seungmin sauntered his way around the table, coming to stand right in front of you. You scowled as you inevitably had to tilt your head back just to look into his amused face. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, my witch.” 

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snapped back, cringing at how petulant you sounded even to your own ears. 

Of course you’d been avoiding him. Ever since he’d slapped those scrolls down on your worktable a week ago now, you hadn’t been able to think about him without flushing, let alone be in the same room as him. It would be for the good of the people, he’d announced crisply, looking so tall and prim and regal as he towered over you sitting on your little garden stool. I’m sure you won’t see any harm in it. You’d scanned through the parchment, ignoring the scribe’s careful translations to parse the ancient runes yourself. It outlined an ancient magical ritual to replenish the barrier wards for your nation if they ever fell - which they had. But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court. 

Seungmin snapped you out of your thoughts with a brief “Ahem,” quirking a skeptical eyebrow at you. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Every time I’ve gone to your rooms since the day I gave you those scrolls, you’re conveniently ‘not there,’ and that poor fool,” he flicked a thumb over to point at Changbin, “is stuck trying - and failing - to make excuses for you.”

You shot a glare over at Changbin - he didn’t look sufficiently embarrassed of himself, but you would deal with that later. “Well, I’m here now, my lord. And I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how you unilaterally decided to add ‘Publicly Deflowering the High Witch’ to your agenda for this evening?”

You’d hoped to embarrass Seungmin, browbeat him - like you’d clearly done to Changbin, judging from the choking sound that came from next to you. But you’d underestimated your enemy. 

Seungmin sighed, clasping his arms behind his back. “Because we don’t have a choice in the matter, my dear witch. If you’d allowed me the chance to actually talk to you this week, I could have convinced you of that, and you'd have had time to prepare yourself. But - you didn’t, and so, I had to force your hand.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his piercing stare as he continued. “I know you translated the runes yourself - you know just as well as I do that this ritual needs to be done soon. Now, if we don’t want the Eastern Army taking advantage and invading us as soon as they muster up the forces. But unlike you, my lady - I don’t have the luxury to pretend like this problem will go away if I ignore it.” 

And that was exactly what you hated most about Kim Seungmin. He was smart and logical to a fault - enough so that he’d trained himself to not let pesky emotions get in the way of doing what needed to be done. You on the other hand… the less said the better on that front. 

Before you could snark something back at him or even just bristle up, Seungmin stepped away from you, rubbing his hands together. “Now that that’s been settled, I’m sure you have no more objections. Anyways, you have a busy afternoon ahead of you, Lady Sorceress. I’ve sent several maids to your chambers to help ready you for this evening - I’m sure you remember how exact the runes were in terms of preparation.” Seungmin wasn’t even bothering to hide his grin as he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, striding out of the room. 

That patronizing bastard. You briefly contemplated throwing a fireball at his laughing back - but being executed for treason wasn’t exactly the way you intended to go out. 

With a deep, soul-weary sigh, you turned on your heel to leave, resigning yourself to your fate. 

Of course, if you knew exactly how the rest of your afternoon was going to be spent, you might just have thrown that fireball at Seungmin and gotten it over with. 

After that useless showdown, Changbin frogmarched you back to your rooms, handing you off to an actually intimidating keeper - Chaeryeong, your personal maid. But, to your even greater chagrin, she wasn’t alone. As promised, an army of maids descended on you, all charged with different vicious tasks - stripping your skin bare and smooth with hot sugar paste; kneading various herbal, floral unguents into your skin before dunking you into cold and hot baths; brushing your hair out until it fairly gleamed in the fading sunlight. By the time you were passed off to Chaeryeong for her final inspection, you almost didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. 

Chaeryeong clicked her tongue approvingly as she walked around you, tightening the laces on your virginal white chemise. “You finally look presentable, milady.”

You bristled. “Are you saying I usually don’t?”

“Last week I had to pull a twig out of your hair before sending you down to supper. There isn’t a single dress of yours that doesn’t have mudstains, milady, and you think a splash of cold water every morning or two is enough to care for your skin.” Chaeryeong looked scandalized.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I’m glad one of us is satisfied with this situation.”

“You’re not?” 

“Why in the name of the Goddess would I be?”

“Sleeping with a man who’s young, tall, handsome, powerful, wealthy,” Chaeryeong giggled as she counted off each word on her fingers, “isn’t the worst thing in the world, milady.” She flicked you a mischievous glance as she smoothly slid to stand behind you. “Especially when the man in question has a major soft spot for you.”

You scoffed. “Kim Seungmin doesn’t have a soft spot for me, Chae. He can't even be in the same room as me without snarking at me - and I can't remember the last time he actually said anything nice to me.”

Chaeryeong’s fingers stilled in your hair as she stared you down in the mirror. “You really believe that, don’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at her in response. She let out a deep sigh. “For such a brilliant witch… you really can be dense.” She shook her head before reaching over to grab flowers to weave into your hair. “I hope you realize - the one thing standing between him and war is you. Most men - especially a King - would have just tossed you onto that table and had their way with you. And maybe they would have begged your forgiveness and understanding afterwards - maybe, if they were worried about you cursing them into oblivion. No one else would have spent a whole week waiting to try and convince you into doing this willingly.”

You opened your mouth to snap something back in your defense... and realized you had nothing to say. 

“See,” Chaeryeong murmured softly. “Sometimes it feels like you’re… willfully blind to His Majesty’s kindness towards you. He’s always treated you with respect - and made sure you’re treated with respect. I wouldn’t take that for granted, my lady - or ignore what’s behind that mask he puts up all the time.” 

As she put the final touches on your hair, you couldn’t help but reflect on Chaeryeong’s words. You had extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress…but no, that wasn’t exactly right. You were given extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress - by your King. If it wasn’t for his unwavering support for you - against the Council, against any and all reactionary forces - you wouldn't hold any of the power you did. Sure, he riled you up, jerked you around a bit - and you still hated just how easily he could outwit you. But you were being childish to fixate on that - to lose sight of the forest for the trees. 

“And here’s the final touch.” Chaeryeong sidled up to you with a long scrap of silk in her hands - your blindfold. “You’re not allowed to see His Majesty until the ritual starts.” Her quick fingers made short work of fastening it around your head - and being the jerk that she was, she put it on properly tight, making sure you couldn’t see a thing. “Maybe that’ll teach you to let yourself lean on him for once,” she mused, before pulling you up out of your chair with none too gentle hands. 

Chaeryeong, as always, was right. You were completely unmoored by the loss of your sight, limiting your magical abilities too. You were forced to rely completely, like a baby, on Chaeryeong to guide you through the halls to the oldest wing of the castle - and you only realized that you were in front of Seungmin when the two of you came to a sudden halt, a reverent “Your Majesty” coming from her lips. 

This was it. 

Chaeryeong subtly pulled you down into a curtsy, pinching you in the back to make sure you stayed low as she stepped away from your side. From the sound of her sharp footsteps receding down the hall and the lack of any other noise around you, you presumed she’d left - and you were now alone with your King. 

“You may rise.” Seungmin’s amused drawl sounded from somewhere high above your head. Disoriented by your imposed blindness, you stumbled a little as you stood up - but you were caught by warm hands encircling your arms, steadying you on your feet. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?” Such a tease, you thought. But the gentle tone of his voice, the circles his thumbs were rubbing into your arms… he was helping ground you, to put you more at ease - which only made you feel more guilty. 

“My lord,” you started softly - earning a harsh inhale in surprise from Seungmin. “I… I owe you an apology. My behavior earlier today - for this entire week - has been immature and not fitting for a ranking member of your court. Forgive me for my negligence.” You made to dip into a curtsy again - but Seungmin’s grip on your arms tightened, keeping you from lowering yourself. 

There was a heartbeat of silence before Seungmin responded, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t know what prompted this… change, but - you don’t need to apologize. I knew we both knew this is what must be done, and I knew we were going to eventually do it - but that doesn’t make it any easier for you. You didn’t want this with me, and I know that.”

Why did that last statement sound a false note in your heart? You ignored it in favor of speaking out. “But I’ve spent the past week shirking my duty. You had to force me back in line.”

“And that is my responsibility as King, my sorceress. No harm done.” You could tell that he was leaning down closer to you, his voice loud and clear in your ear. “And remember - neither this kingdom nor I will ever forget this sacrifice.”

There was an oddly charged moment of silence after that statement - which was abruptly broken by the sensation of the ground suddenly falling away from under you. You gasped as surprisingly sturdy arms lifted you up until you were cradled against a lean, hard chest. “Seungmo!” You squeaked, the childhood nickname slipping past your lips. “S-since when were you strong enough to do this?”

There was a pause - you were positive that Seungmin had rolled his eyes at you. “Just because I don’t have bulging biceps like that bodyguard of yours doesn’t mean that I’m a weakling, witch.” 

“Well, it won’t be good to kick things off with you tripping over your feet carrying me in,” you muttered sulkily. 

You couldn’t hold back a shiver as Seungmin tsked, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive shell of your ear. “Such disrespect for your king? Bold, given that you’re at my mercy for the next hour.” 

“Next hour? That ego of yours is still clearly giant.”

Seungmin let out a husky laugh. “It’s not the size of my ego you should be worried about right now, sweet.” You thumped a useless fist against his chest - even as your core involuntarily clenched and slickened.

There was a ear-ringingly loud blast of trumpets, followed by the creak of the gates to the ancient hall being pushed open. The murmurs and chatter of the crowd awaiting your arrival fell silent, an almost eerie hush settling in as Seungmin strode into the hall. Even with the enormous fire spluttering away in the ancient hearth, the room was always chilly; gooseflesh pimpled your arms, and you almost automatically burrowed closer into Seungmin’s neck for warmth - at least, that’s what you told yourself. The sharp raps of Seungmin’s footsteps against the flagstones came to a halt, and you were securely sat onto a hard surface - the High Table. Your sacrificial altar, you mused to yourself cynically. 

You jumped a little as you felt gentle fingers clasp your hands, giving you a firm squeeze. Those warm fingertips then ghosted across your cheeks, twining through your hair as they searched for the knot of your blindfold. Your heart was bounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as Seungmin leaned into you, that familiar, titilatingly musky scent of his flooding your senses as he worked to unravel the tight knot, until the blindfold finally came free. 

You blinked your eyes open to mellow, golden light - and the sight of Seungmin standing over you, watching you carefully with a small, soft smile. The great hall was awash with candlelight, long tapering candles and sticks of smoking perfume burning all around you, throwing the faces of the crowd of onlookers beyond you into shadow - but bathing Seungmin in glorious, warm light. He looked impeccably regal as he stood above you in his smart black leather doublet and swan white shirtsleeves, his royal purple ermine-edged cloak clasped around his throat. His hair was up, brushed off his forehead, and the gold of his royal circlet shone out bright against the ink black of his hair - but the brightest of all were his eyes, warm and deep brown, steady and clear as he - your King, you truly felt down to your bones for the first time - held your gaze. 

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself fall back, the ancient stone of the table icy against your spine. While you couldn’t see any of the spectators surrounding you and Seungmin - the vaulted ceiling of the great hall the only thing in your line of sight - it felt like you could sense their gaze prickling across your skin, weighing you down. But before you could let your mind wander too far, Seungmin was there, leaning over you with those broad, square shoulders, blocking your sight of anything but him. You felt your cheeks flame as his hand came up to cup your face, and  your heart skipped a beat as he pressed a petal soft kiss to your forehead, breathily whispering into your skin. “It will be good, my sweet. Trust me.”

Maybe Chaeryeong was onto something… You searched his eyes, finding so much affection and reassurance beaming back at you that you blinked your own shut - before giving him a brief nod. 

He let his lips drag over to your temple, then down to your cheek, leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake as his lips trailed lower and lower, down your jawline, down your neck - and lower. Your mind reeled, your hands fisting the flimsy material of your gown. This was supposed to be brief and impersonal - you’d even readied a lubrication charm in preparation for the inevitable. But you should have known that Seungmin wouldn’t just do an adequate job like that. You were fighting for your life to stay silent as he added his teeth into the mix, working the thin, sensitive skin of your throat until you felt the sickly sweet pain of a bruise forming. His hand slid down from your cheek so he could softly thumb at the mark - his mark - marring your skin, and when he pressed down just right on the bruise, you whimpered - and watched as his eyes darkened to black. 

From there, he was insatiable. Your hands flew up to his shoulders at the swipe of his tongue against your hardening nipple; they desperately slid to clutch at his hair when he took it whole into his mouth, the wet heat tantalizing even through the cotton of your chemise. He palmed your neglected breast hard, the soft flesh spilling through his fingers. A whine finally tore itself free from your throat, and Seungmin snapped his head up to look at you, lips twisting into a triumphant smirk. “I thought you weren’t going to enjoy this, Lady Sorceress.” His fingers came up to tweak your nipple - hard - as he mouthed carelessly at your other breast, his eyes watching you hungrily as you writhed under his touch. The pleasure carried you away on a hazy cloud of lust, into the dreamland of dangerous possibilities. What would it feel like to have this dumb chemise out of the way, so his fingers and lips could traipse your naked skin? What would it feel like to have the heat of his bare skin pressed up against yours - the weight and friction of his hard chest crushing into your sensitive breasts?

Your attention was yanked back into the land of the living at sudden, discordant noise: gasps and murmurs, you quickly realized, rippling through your audience - for your King was dropping to a knee at your feet, hands sliding with promise up your legs under your chemise. You shot up onto your elbows, staring down at him in horror. “Your Majesty,” you hissed. “This is wanton.”

Seungmin arched an eyebrow. “I’d rather be wanton than have you in pain at my hands.” You felt a traitorous flutter in your chest. “And most importantly - when you have the kingdom’s most powerful woman laid out in front of you... you worship her.” 

Those large, long-fingered hands of his found purchase in the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing them spread and keeping them spread with that hidden strength of his. He let out a small groan at the sight of your swollen folds, dragging a single, deliberate fingertip down the length of your slit. At the very first touch of his soft lips to your sensitive bundle of nerves, you choked out a moan - and startled as the candles around you all simultaneously popped. From between your legs, Seungmin laughed darkly. “Looks like I won’t need to ask you whether I’ve done a good job,” he said, the sensation of his breath and lips against your core making you squirm with stimulation. His hands slid up to your hips, anchoring you in place as he lapped languidly at your cunt, tongue flicking in and out of your aching entrance, nose rubbing up against your swollen little pearl. 

There was no chance in hell you could stay quiet any more. As a moaning keen spilled forth from your lips, your eyes flicked up to the shadowy figures in the crowd watching you. You’d thought they would be judgmental - critical, gossipy, as people always were in situations like this. Instead… there wasn’t a face you could make out that wasn’t flushed, expression glazed over. Seungmin slid his arms under your legs, yanking you down the table until the base of your spine rested on the very edge of the table, your core putty under his mouth as he supported your weight - and you watched as some woman in the crowd whimpered, biting her lip in response. 

Your head lolled back onto the table, and you started shuddering in Seungmin’s hands. 

“I guess I was wrong about needing an hour.” With a final kiss to your folds, Seungmin rose to his feet, leisurely wiping his mouth on the back of one hand, the other drifting down to the laces of his trousers. “I didn’t anticipate just how thoroughly you would enjoy my attentions, my witch.” Tease. His eyes danced with mirth as you whined in annoyance. You felt the blunt tip of him dragging through your folds, its weight catching deliciously against the tight ring of your entrance. “I’ll start slow,” he murmured, a hand coming up to brace himself above your head. And from the first breach of his length into your walls, you knew you were in trouble. 

“Big,” you gasped out. Seungmin let his free hand run loose over the flesh of your thighs and hips, kneading and caressing and soothing. “Relax for me, sweet - it’ll be easier if you let me in.” His voice was breathy and soft, eyes so warm - daresay loving - as he leaned in over you, covering your body with his. You gave him a small nod, breathing deeply and doing your best to let your body sink into the stone under you. As he carefully, firmly worked the rest of his length into your tight cunt, you couldn’t help but whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the deep, deep stretch of him, your spine arching off the table as your body contorted to accommodate him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pupils dilated with lust. “Made to take me.” 

And as the sting and discomfort started to morph into the burning, insatiable stretch of pleasure, you were inclined to agree with him. 

“Let me know when I can move, sweet,” he asked, the flat of his hand rubbing soothing circles into your lower belly. “Please,” you rasped out - and the delightedly vicious grin that curled his lips in response only sent another surge of fire through you. Your limbs ached to twine around him, pulling him down into you, imprisoning him between your legs - but you were determined to maintain some public decorum. Seungmin made the decision for you though, salaciously bold as ever as he leaned forward into you, splaying your legs out wide, knees almost to your chest. He tested the waters with a rapid snap of his hips in and out - and the two of you stared at each other with wide eyes at just how deep it all felt in this position. Seungmin’s hips started rocking back and forth, almost as if on their own volition - almost as if they were enchanted - and your hands desperately scrabbled for purchase on the unyielding stone as he started pounding into you. 

Your hips canted up into his, trying to answer his thrusts with your own. And you were clearly doing something right, judging by his drawn out groans. “Mine,” he moaned. As he bore down on you, every thrust ground delicious friction into your bundle of nerves - and Seungmin’s hips were driving into yours at such a punishing pace that you were overwhelmed by stimulation. You were sure the two of you were making an absolute mess, the squelching sounds of him pumping into you only growing louder with every thrust. Just with his lips and nose and tongue, the friction and sensation and pleasure had all already brought you close to the cliff of your peak. You knew it wasn’t going to be much longer now before he dragged you over - but there was something positively strange happening to you. Your pleasure was merely riding the edge of some deeper, powerfully visceral sensation that had you gasping, shivering with every plunging stroke. But Seungmin, your ever-wise, your ever-aware Seungmin, had cottoned onto what was happening to you - and wrapping you tightly up into his arms, he only picked up the pace of his hips. “Let go, sweet,” he eked out. “I’ve got you safe, here - let go, my queen.” And before your mind could even process what he’d just given away, you felt yourself clenching up, eyes squeezing shut and nerves singing in pleasure as you hit your release - the pain of your fingers digging into the broad expanse of his back, the spasms of your tight cunt triggering Seungmin’s release simultaneously, spurts of his hot, thick seed flooding into your core, serving as a balm for your aching walls as he collapsed into your waiting arms. 

Before you could let the waves of pleasure carry away your mind with it, however - your eyes shot open at the gasps and shouts coming from around you. Gold - that was all you could see - a golden bubble encasing you and your King. Seungmin lifted his head up from where it was pillowed on your chest, a look of pure wonder on his face as the two of you watched the bubble slowly float and collapse inwards, coalescing into a glowing yellow orb hovering above all of your heads. The hazy whorls of incense and candle smoke in the air took on a bright golden hue - before it all whooshed outwards in a rapid gust of wind, rattling the windows of the hall as the orb and its golden mist exploded out into the sky . You recognized the magic for what it was - the largest, purest barrier charm you’d ever witnessed. 

You and Seungmin had pulled it off. A giggle of delight squeezed out of your chest, and you let your gaze snap back down to the man resting on his elbows over you. Seungmin was watching you with a small, mysterious smile, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. And as you looked back at him… you felt a wave of emotion wash over you, as powerful as if the ground had literally shifted under your feet. An almost unbearable fondness filled your heart as you beheld him - your King, your protector…your lover. 

You had been right about one thing - there would be no going back from this, at least for you. But now you found yourself wondering… why was that such a bad thing?

Ignoring the shuffling footsteps around you as your audience slowly started to disperse, you let your arms wrap around Seungmin, relishing the feeling of his muscles bunching under your touch as he slid his arms in turn around you, helping you to sit upright. His dark eyes were fixed on the place the two of you were joined as he slowly extricated himself from you, the feeling of his sticky seed trickling out from between your legs strange and foreign. That ever intelligent, searching gaze then slowly scanned your body, looking you over head to toe as he tucked himself away in his trousers, before his eyes fluttered shut. Seungmin let out a slow exhale before blinking his eyes open again - and you were startled to see that professional mask of his slide back into place. 

“Up you go,” he murmured, arm sliding around your back as he helped you off the table, supporting you as your legs quailed under your weight. With a few deft pulls, he unfastened his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders instead. You were thankful for the warmth it provided - and the coverage, you realized, as you noticed the servants hovering at a respectful distance from the two of you. “Give me a second,” Seungmin said before turning away to address his valet and knight-at-arms. 

One of the maids stepped forward, a fan in her hand to put out the few lingering candles. Before you could even hesitate on what to do, she dipped into a low curtsy, bowing her head - to you. “Your Highness,” she breathed out, an almost reverent look on her face as she glanced back up at you. Awkward with the unfamiliar courtesy, you smiled hesitantly, tilting your head at her in acknowledgement. 

How had you misjudged this situation so badly? Part of your hesitation leading up to all of this had been because you’d thought that you’d be made out to be a slag - no better than the King’s kept woman. Why hadn’t you appreciated the power inherent in this? With the spectacular care with which he’d pleasured you, with the demonstration of your magic in front of the whole court, Seungmin had marked you - just as he’d told you with those hungry eyes - out to be the most powerful woman in the kingdom. 

You snapped out of your thoughts to see Seungmin making his way back to stand in front of you. You frowned to see that mask of his still in place, a strange awkwardness in his manner as he addressed you. “I can help you back to your rooms now. Or,” he turned to gesture behind him, “one of the servants can take you if you prefer.”

You arched a critical eyebrow at him. “Could we go to your chambers instead?”

His eyes widened for a second, before you watched understanding wash over his face. “Ah yes, that was careless of me - there’s too many stairs to get back to your chambers. You can rest in mine as long as you need.”

Wrapping an arm loosely around you, he let you lean on him as the two of you walked out of the hall. His rooms weren’t too far away, the royal chambers taking up a significant portion of the ancient wing of the castle. But an awkward silence reigned over the two of you, Seungmin stoically looking straight ahead as you limped along beside him. 

Something had clearly changed in you - because for once, instead of being the reactive fool you normally were, you saw the situation - and his reaction - for what it actually was. Seungmin was taking his turn to be the awkward overthinker - a role he’d grown out of once he’d become King… except when it came to a few specific things he couldn’t stay purely rational about. The things he cared about the most, the things that mattered most deeply… in this case - you. 

You sighed. You’d probably need to gift Chaeryeong a necklace or something after all of this was over. 

You bided your time until Seungmin finally shut the two of you into his chambers. He’d turned away to lock the doors behind him - and startled when he turned back around to find you standing right in front of him. As you stared up at him, watching his lips twitch in discomfort… you came to a shocking realization. 

“You never kissed me,” you breathed out, even more surprised as you said it. He’d kissed you literally everywhere else - but he hadn’t touched your lips. You gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Why?”

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. “It felt too…intimate.”

What? “You took my virginity - in public. We unleashed a magical force field together,” you deadpanned, trying to get a laugh out of him - and failing, as Seungmin continued to look at you stoically. “I’d say that’s pretty intimate, my lord.”

He shrugged, hugging his arms around him and hesitating for a second - before bluntly, in Seungmin fashion, getting to the heart of the matter. “The reality is that… freely given sacrifice, prophecy, whatever you want to call it - I took something from you that you didn’t mean for me to have.” It was a testament to Seungmin’s poise that his voice stayed even, his eyes stayed steadily on you as he spoke. “I wanted you to have something - a part of you - you could still give away of your own will.” He sagged heavily into the doorframe, finally breaking eye contact as he trailed off. 

Poor baby. Your heart fluttered. “That is… quite thoughtful of you, my lord,” you choked out, taking a small step forward. Then another. And another, inching towards him. “So - that means it’s alright with you for me to do this, right?” Reaching up, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up onto your tiptoes to press your body into his. His hands reflexively grabbed your waist, steadying you even as his eyes widened in surprise - before fluttering shut as you pressed your lips to his. 

His mouth was divine heat - soft, pliable against yours. He gasped as you nipped at his lower lip, and you seized the chance to lick into his mouth, deepening the kiss until your head was whirling, ignorant of where you ended and he began. 

When you finally pulled away for air, his lips chased yours for a second before he caught himself. You giggled, beaming up at him. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?”

Seungmin let out a low warm laugh, such fondness in his eyes that you couldn’t help but shy away. “I have much, much lower to fall still, don’t worry,” he murmured as he bent down over you, his hair falling into his eyes as he smiled. In a single, smooth movement, he flipped the two of you around so he had you pinned up against the wall, his body pressed firmly into yours. 

You cleared your throat. “Y-you really like having me against hard surfaces, don’t you?”

He shrugged, focus elsewhere as his fingers busied themselves with the laces of your chemise. “Seems like it’s the only way to keep you good for me, witch mine.” You whined as his hand accidentally grazed your sore, tender nipple, the sound making his eyes snap back to yours. A dark, wicked smile curled his lips before he crashed his mouth back onto yours, long fingers working your breast deliberately, possessively. You responded with enthusiasm, tangling your own fingers into his silky hair, until the spell was broken - for you at least - by loud noises from outside his chambers. 

You pulled away from his lips with a loud smack. “What’s that?”

“Never mind that,” he rasped out, pulling you in tight against him. “Worry about it later.” Your breath hitched as he nosed his way into your neck, pulling at the loosened neck of your chemise to expose your collarbone for him to feast on. 

Steeling yourself, you pushed your hands firmly against his chest. “Seungmo, I want to worry about it now.” He groaned, rolling his eyes, but let you go without a fight, releasing you from his embrace. Turning on your heel, you tugged him along to his balcony. The sounds had seemed to come from the royal gardens, which were sprawled right below Seungmin’s chambers. Pulling your cloak - his cloak - more tightly around you, you stepped out onto the balcony - and froze, as an astounding sight brought the two of you to a standstill. 

Wherever you looked - below you, around you - every single plant and tree was in abundant bloom. Regardless of season, of age - fruit and flowers were everywhere, swinging in the breeze, littering the ground. You turned to Seungmin in shock - only to see him looking back at you with loving, wondrous awe. “That’s all you,” he murmured, brushing a fond hand against your cheek. “My powerful, mesmerizing sorceress.”

You flushed. “No, it’s not.” You stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s us.” You tiptoed up to press a kiss into his cheek - and promptly hid into Seungmin’s neck as whoops and cheers rang up to you from the gardens below. 

Seungmin laughed, tucking you into his side as he led the two of you back inside. “Well, you know what this means,” he said.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Shooting a dazzling smile your way, he caught you up in his arms once again, the heady sensation already warm and familiar to you - before peremptorily throwing you onto his bed. 

“The fate of the flora of this kingdom is in our hands, Lady Sorceress.” He intoned in a faux serious voice - made only the more ridiculous by the sight of him crawling on all fours towards you on the bed. “We have crucial work to do, milady - and we must start posthaste.”

You threw your head back in laughter before wrapping your limbs around him. “Yes, my lord - let’s start immediately.” 

Fin.

~

[If you made it all the way here... please comment, reblog and give me feedback!! My Ko-Fi is also linked in my blog if you're able to support :)]

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Yandere Wukong!! What about yandere Destined One?

Can I request The Destined One as a yandere, first meeting his love? Love at first sight from his P.O.V if possible.

- Phoenixeclipse-lmkau 🩷 💕

In his entire life, he had never seen other Yaoguais such as himself. Mount Huaguo was popular only with monkeys, and if there was something out of the ordinary, they were always aware of that.

And yet, how could he have not noticed you?

"Tree spirits are simple ones. They do not ask for more than what the earth can give them. They need many years to accommodate power, and often the tree dies even before they could even manifest themselves."

That was what the elders once explained to him and his companions, and he had never imagined to see one in front of him.

Were you really a spirit? Weren't you some kind of divinity coming to bless their mountain?

He couldn't get where your long, hairy ends were, interwined between the branches of the tree like an ivy, and they were decorated by jewels of the same color as the flowers that the tree sprouts.

Your eyes were so kind, so beautiful, so gentle, while they admired the bird that had decided to visit you at the top of the tree.

Your hanfu was like the hair that moved the leaves; his delicate green color adorned your skin like that color was meant. Just to be yours.

And your voice...when was the last time he heard such a magic melody? You were the treasure of the earth—something precious that had been worn and kept as a secret! He couldn't resist; he needed to take a closer look and bathe in your beauty!

But his bsudden coming from the woods must have frightened you, and you take refuge in the tree itself.

"No please!" He pleaded, "Don't leave! I just wanted to meet you!"

He caressed the textured rind of the plant, searching for a trace of the leaves, hoping to glance into those beautiful eyes again. He wanted to see those eyes—to be seen by them!

But you didn't reappeared, not even after his many plea

Every day, the monkey never loses a chance to come to your tree. Every day, he admired you from afar and observed your disappearance in the tree after you had spotted him.

Then he sat and lay on the trunk, talking to you, hoping you could listen to his story.

He told you about the mountain, about his brothers and sisters, about his life and mission. He wondered if you were listening sometime and if the tree where you were hiding allowed you.

The day when, during his talk, he had noticed the silk of your hanfu caressing his shoulder, he was glad.

///

Hearing your voice was like listening to nature itself. He loved hearing your talk and watching you tell him about your life in the tree and your connection with Mother Earth and nature itself.

He could have listened every day.

Yet, he wondered, have you ventured beyond the branches of the tree? Have you ever taken a step away from your Meadow or followed the stream that gently passed near you? Have you ever tried to leave?

"I may not leave this tree. My life is bound to it. As his roots stay, I must too."

He wondered if those words were true, but when you tried to follow him farther from your place of birth, a barrier stopped you. You were trapped, and you didn't care.

At night he wondered, What if he wasn't there to protect you? What if someone found you and hurt you? ...or court you.

This idea made his tail Twitch in bed.

You were the most beautiful creature that the earth could birth; you were a fruit ready to be eaten! 

And his mission...

He didn't want to leave you, but he didn't want you to be taken away by someone else!

Even a god would fall for you! And you were, oh, so naive and kind. No, he couldn't allow anyone to hurt you or tò take you away from him.

And so he spoke his thought.

At first, it was just your curiosity in your head about the world you were living in, the mountain, and the other monkeys.

But you seemed unfazed, only content with the stories that he told you.

Then he tried to tell you about the danger of being alone in such a place, with only a tree as a line of defense. He told you about the Yaoguais that roamed the mountains, the humans with the axes, and the gods with their dirty tricks. 

And yet you stayed strong like that plant.

And he grew desperate, so he told you his love for you, his desire to be yours as you could be his, to be together as one in his home, where no one could harm you or even lay an eye on you.

And you grow cold like the winter.

"Stop asking me something I can't. I'm bound to this tree, and I'll stay with it until the skies burn."

...that damn tree...

///

Your screamed echied thought thevslley Just as the thunderous sound of the falling tree touching the earth.

He had tried again to convince you, and he gave you an ultimatum.

You said no again, and he took the situation into his own hands.

He never knew that he could be so strong by ripping that tree in half with his bare hands. Surely, he thought, you were able to bring the worst out of him.

You pained cries hurt his beare, but it was necessary. Your hands grasped the truck, screaming for the pain and the loss.

"HIW COULD YOU?! YOU DEMON, HOW COULD YOU?! I'LL DIE! I'll die because of you."

Who could have guessed that such cruel words could come out of those lips, the ones he dreamed to kiss and own?

"You forced my hand. I have your choice, and you refused!"

His eyes looked at you. So scared, so trembling, so helpless.

You were BEAUTYFULL even in the lowest part of your life, and he wanted to have you more than ever.

No matter how much you fought, he was stronger, and in his grasp, he silently took you away from your place of birth, from the tree that had nurtured you for years, and from everything you knew.

You didn't had to know about the small branch that he had olanted away to grant your survival; you didn't have to know that everyone was ready to have you as his wife.

What you really needed to know was that he loved you, and he would rather burn the world than let you go.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight @anfie01 @tunadunanana @jeminiikrystal @jssy96

@ladydoe8

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

A KITCHEN-TABLE KINDA LOVE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though he chalks it up to his mind playing tricks on him. 

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred, in its normalcy. everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket haphazardly draped over the couch, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

(why is the kitchen light still on?)

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin underneath them — blinking once, then twice. 

yep — it’s still there. that soft fluorescent glow, a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile.

do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft sprouts in his chest, almost otherworldly, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something like a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so, so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach. satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. 

but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a breath, laced with exasperation. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften. the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…” 

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

for a moment, all you do is lean into his touch. a yawn tumbles from your lips, as you lift yourself up, snuggling closer still. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question.

a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform, arms sneaking around his thin waist to bring him closer. he strokes the back of your head, softly.

satoru’s chest rumbles, as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into him, into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees. lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little, trying to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “… but i fell asleep.” 

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder, followed by a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light, and then there’s something else. something far more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you. “of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, pulling you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought that he’s a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel kinda giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t. having someone to worry for you is a luxury, he’s realized. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away, ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him, tilting your head like a sleepy puppy. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he tries not to. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. “oh,” you breathe. “okay. that’s good.”

one second. then two.

satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip, a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table. satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 

satoru looks at you for a second. 

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

[buzzinrusso]

Careless ,part .2

You can find part 1 here ,thank you to this and this anon for requesting a part two and giving me ideas!

A short one but with the ending we wanted

You truly didnt mean for this to happen .

Though you tried to distance yourself from all of Alexia's friends ,team ,family ,etc..., patri was a force to be reckoned with,she drew you in and left you always wanting more.

She healed you ,made you feel wanted ,actually loved you.

It was nine months after alexia broke up with you that patri kissed you,she held you ,looked you in the eyes ,and even made a speech .

Patri was perfect ,she was what you needed . She loved you In a way that you have never seen before,she supported you with your job , just as you supported her with her football.

It was the champions league final.

Alexia had a sneaky suspicion that something has been happening with patri .she seemed more joyous,more happy and was always sporting a smile .

The final whistle blew and the crowds went wild , alexia's ears blocked every single sound ,and for some reason her only thought was you .

She should've shared this moment with you but instead she was a selfish woman that cheated on you.she didnt deserve to have you back .

She had the biggest smile on her face while walking through the pitch ,while everyone was pulling their loved ones over the barrier ,her eyes caught you.you hugging patricia like your life depended on it with tears streaming down your face.

Her heart nearly stopped ,her body stilled in it's place ,she couldn't believe it .

She kept it cool until they got to the locker room,immediately finding patri and slamming her into the nearest wall.

"why?! Why her?!" She screamed in the brunettes face , with minor tears streaming down her face .

"let go of me !" Patri said as she pushed alexia back ,leaving her to stumble ." Look ,alexia ,you lost your chance ,you were the one who fucked things up with her!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"yes,but you still did ! You can't blame her for moving on ,and I'm so sorry that it had to be with me ,but it felt right ! " Patri yelled over her captains voice ,her words as stern as steel .

"ale ,i love her ."

Alexia took a deep breath at patri's words.

She never imagined someone else saying that about you except for her. So when she let patri go ,with the promise that she won't hurt you like she did,she knew that it was probably for the better.

Immediately as the guijarro girl left the locker room ,she pucked you up into a bone crushing hug.

That's when you realized that love was not when alexia would ignore your calls .love was not when she would not eat the dinner that you made ,love was not when she would turn away in bed .

Love was when patri would call you every night before she goes to sleep ,love was when patri would try every single thing you made ,love was when patri would squeeze you to death whenever you shared a bed.

So,alexia may have won many things in her career but she could never win you back.

[hannahmanderr]

I haven't seen anyone else talk about this yet so I'm going to assume no one has (and if this is the millionth post about this I am so sorry), but apparently there was a leak at Viacom last month, and one of the things that got leaked was the original Danny Phantom pitch bible, and let me tell y'all, there is some interesting lore to be had. I've taken the liberty of summing up a few notable points, but feel free to read for yourself - it's pretty short.

Jack was originally written as an ex-spy, test pilot... basically if it was a daring job, he probably had it. His IQ was supposedly only one point off from Maddie's, and his bumbling was more of a result of him being more "brave than smart."

Maddie was originally written as "one of the world's most respected theoretical physicists" and the brains between her and Jack. Get this: her full name was supposed to be Madison!

Sam and Danny's psychic connection was actually a result of the accident. When he was in the hospital and still very much saturated with ectoplasm, she gave him a "get better" kiss on the forehead, which sparked the connection. The connection would've manifested in a number of ways, including a perpetual ability to "sense" the other, see visions, and hear each other's thoughts, though it was supposed to be somewhat unpredictable.

Jazz hid her brains from her cheerleader friends because she wanted to fit in with them.

Danny was supposed to be the only person able to see, hear, and interact with ghosts.

On the subject of Danny, his reputation for being a scaredy-cat was much more well-known, even to the point where Sam and Tucker gave him the nickname Danny Phantom before he even had his accident. This kid was scared of his own shadow, frogs, you name it.

Overshadowing was originally called "ghosting," and the more intelligent a person, the more difficult it would be to control them.

Jack and Maddie were hoping to break the barrier between the "Real World" (our world) and the "Unreal World" (the ghost world). They wanted to get through to the spirit realm to be able to communicate with the dead in order to help make the world a better place (think picking Einstein's brain a little more, seeing what other music Mozart has cooking, etc.). That dimensional barrier was damaged when they first tried out their experiment, and Danny - who was hiding out from Dash in the lab - would be caught in the middle.

Much like how fans have interpreted things and how the show tried to imply, Danny felt responsible for unleashing the ghosts into our world and decided to adopt the name Sam and Tucker had teased him with to help put a stop to their reign of terror.

Seriously, y'all should read this. There's a lot of interesting info in here, and really it sounds like such a cool concept?? Like I'll probably add my personal thoughts in a reblog, but there's a lot of potential for untapped creativity from the phandom here. Plus it's always nice to see what's technically official content almost 20 years after the show's premiere.

[wittlesissyb4by]

You tried to hold it. For so long you tried to fight it. Not just the urge to wet, but what he was making you become. You didn't want to be a girl that had to wear diapers. That had to use diapers. Giving up now would give him exactly what he wanted.

Your bladder was screaming. You were screaming for the last several hours, but it proved to be pointless. Was trying to keep your diaper dry just as futile?

No. No way! It was possible. Any minute now he would come back in, tell you you passed, or you're free to go, or anything to get you out of this mess. How did you make so many dumb decisions to land yourself in this mess anyway? Speaking of mess...

NO! Absolutely not! You would not piss yourself. You would not mess yourself! The churning in your guts made it hard to differentiate whether or not you had to pee or poo. Well, it was both, but which one did you need to do more?

You whimpered and whined, groaned and cried. But you didn't shed a tear. Again, you didn't want to be the 'baby' he so desperately wanted you to be. You'd wail and flail, but you would not let him see you cry.

You clenched your legs, squeezed and squirmed, anything to try to alleviate the pressure. Your muscles strained. The most minor of movements threatened to break the barrier and let everything go.

There were sounds coming from the computers set up behind you. The camera pointed right at you, at your diaper, at your predicament. The more you struggled, the more dings and 'cha-chings' went off. Some sort of online forum. Were they bidding on you? Were they rooting for you? Or against you?

More stabs of pain. The alarms going off inside your system. Your bladder and bowels were screaming, trying to alert your brain of their pressing needs, and when it thought the brain wasn't listening to its warnings anymore, it upped the signals...it upped the pain.

You groaned into the wall, jerked at the restraints, screamed again. You weren't going to wet. You weren't going to mess. You weren't going to cry.

But no matter how many times you repeated it to yourself, you just couldn't take it anymore.

The first few drops escaped without your consent, but once the damn was cracked, the river burst through. You couldn't stop it, no matter how much you tried. Everything seemed to be falling out of you at the same time. Piss, poop, and whatever else your body had been holding on to, it all flooded your diaper at once. You felt it swell, soaking up the onslaught you dropped on it. But it couldn't contain it all. That sick, warm, disgusting feeling washed over you, sending shivers down your spine.

Then, the final dam was broken. You tried to clamp your eyes shut, but it was already too late. Tears streamed down your face. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't help it. You were stuck here. Again. Another day, another test failed. Even faster than last time. You were nowhere closer to being a free adult. Instead, you were one step closer to being the little baby girl he was making you be. Everything finally sank in at that moment, right as all your messes soaked into the padding of your diaper...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Absolutely superb acting by this model. She is one of the best in the business!

[7-3-softie]

Satoru Gojo doesn't sleep.

Well, that's a lie. He sleeps, he just doesn't sleep well.

The man averages about two to three hours a night, when the average adult human should be getting about seven to eight consecutive hours of sleep. One could either blame it on the constant stream of input of cursed energy or information from his Six Eyes technique, or the monotonous flow of reverse cursed energy to try and keep his brain at optimum performance, or the busy schedule that's imposed on him due to his special grade status, being "The Strongest" and all that malarkey.

That is, until he started to share his bed and his home with you.

You remember how you pleaded with Satoru to try and get some rest after a day of lessons, the exorcism of a special grade curse that roamed the grounds of an abandoned primary school, and the paperwork that came with it. It seemed that had become his everyday schedule. Early mornings to mid afternoons, lessons. Afternoons to late evenings, missions. Evenings to the dead of night, paperwork. He barely had any time to take care of himself.

Even through the blindfold that he was wearing, you could see the bags were starting to bruise past his eyes and transcend to his cheekbones.

He was dog tired and in desperate need of rest.

You approached him as he was hunched over his office desk, typing up a report on the mission that had transpired that day. You noted that the plate of food that you had set out for him was picked clean, so you were at least grateful that he had taken the time to get something in his stomach.

You attempted to place a hand on his back, but were stopped with mere nanometers to spare by the invisible barrier that covered his body.

“You know you don’t have to use your Infinity with me around, right?” you gently chided.

He let out a soft sigh and the barrier lifted, allowing you to touch him. “I’m sorry. I’ve just…I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he groaned, letting his head fall forward and land on the keyboard. Consecutive ‘F’’s started to fill the screen where he had left off typing.

“‘Toru, it’s almost midnight. You’ve been at this report for the past four hours, and then some.” Your hand slides up his neck to get to his hair, oscillating between scratching and massaging his scalp as you threaded your fingers through his silver white locks. “You should get some rest. You, of all people, certainly need it the most.”

“Mmm… feels good, babe,” he moaned, his voice slightly muffled by the keyboard. He sits up straight, lifting his head off the desk. “As much as I want to, though, I can’t. I gotta get this report ready for Yaga so he can spare me a meeting with the higher-ups.” His nose upturned at the mention of the sickly, old, conservative bastards that sat behind paper screens.

“The higher-ups can eat shit for all I care. Right now, I’m concerned about you, ‘Toru.” You crouched down beside him and pulled his blindfold off, allowing you to look him in his eyes. “You keep going like this, and you’re gonna end up burning yourself out, my love. I won’t stand by and let that happen, not if I can help it, at least.” You reached up and gently held his cheek as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Please come to bed.”

A moment of silence passed as Satoru drank in your concerns as well as your physical affections. He was a weak man when it came to your touch, being rendered to putty sometimes, with the euphoria that your body offered him. You were really the only person that he allowed freely to touch him, as no one else was really allowed the privilege.

You could have almost sworn that he started to purr underneath your fingers.

“Okay, I’ll go to sleep… if.”

You raised an eyebrow. “If?”

“If you come to bed with me. I don’t like the idea of you going back to your apartment so late at night, especially if I’m not there with you.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile with a breathy chuckled that followed. “Sure, ‘Toru. I’ll come to bed with you.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to a standing position, letting him stand to his full height. He nearly stumbled after you as you guided him to his bedroom.

Satoru, when presented with the large California King sized bed, damn near face planted into the covers.

He was more exhausted than he initially thought he was.

Satoru turned onto his side, and even in total darkness, you could still see the glow of his blue eyes as they searched for you. He made grabby-hands at you as he stretched out his arms towards you, trying to get you into bed with him.

You clambered up beside him, quickly being swept up into his embrace as he pulled you into his chest, his warm exhaled breath tickling your exposed skin.

“Can… can I try something?” You hesitantly asked, unsure if he was going to take you seriously or not.

He pulled away, giving you a mischievous look with a small smirk starting to quirk up at the edge of his mouth.

“It’s not like that, you perv. I wanna try something different tonight. I think you’ll actually come to like it.”

He decided to humor you. He opened his arms and you maneuvered your way out of his embrace. You pulled back the covers and laid flat on your back with your head on his pillows.

“Come here,” you beckoned, patting the space beside you.

Satoru wasted little to no time, eagerly climbing up next to you, laying his head on your chest where he could hear your steady heartbeat. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, his breaths now lightly cascading over your collarbones. He wrapped you up into his arms, pulling you nearly inhumanly close to his front, almost as if he wanted to merge bodies with you.

“Shh… go to sleep, ‘Toru. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you softly cooed, your hand finding his scalp once again as you weaved your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching the skin there.

“Mmm…promise?” He sounded drunk.

“I promise. Get some rest.” You leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of his hair.

It didn’t take long for his respiration to even out, letting out soft puffs of air, and his grip to loosen only the smallest fraction. He began to lean a little bit more heavily into you as he wasn’t conscious to be mindful of his weight on top of you, but you didn’t mind.

You laid there, staring at the ceiling as you continued to stroke his hair, listening only to the steady rate of Satoru’s breathing and the soft hum of traffic outside of his high rise apartment.

You honestly can’t remember the last time that Satoru just took some time to breathe. Even on the rare occasion when he had downtime, his brain was still on high alert, no thanks to his Cursed Techniques and his high-ranked status in the Jujutsu world. He worried for his students and his co-workers safety, he fought the higher-ups on… basically everything, but his main concern, above all, was you.

You, the little non-sorcerer that managed to capture his attention by being at the right place at the right time. You, who knew nothing of the Jujutsu world, treated him like an actual human being instead of the weapon that he was always deemed. You have shown him genuine love and care, to the best of your ability, at least, trying to be a foundation for him to lean on even in his darkest moments.

It was an unorthodox relationship between the two of you, but you somehow made it work.

As time passed, Satoru remained in the same position with him tucked away at your side and his head on your chest. In his slumber, his hand started to drift up and grab hold of your shirt, fisting into his grip as he held onto you tightly, somehow afraid that you were going to slip away into the night and get away from him.

Eventually, you started to succumb to your own drowsiness, your eyes growing unbearably heavy as you laid there, the comfortable bed and the heat from Satoru’s body starting to lull you into a deeper sense of tranquility. You pressed another kiss to the top of his head and closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to come for you.

The two of you remained undisturbed for the rest of the night, finding solace in each other’s embrace.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 26 - Tiefling!Yunho + Predator/Prey

@bangmechann Said: Yunho as a tiefling with consensual prey? A/n: This one turned out a lot more playful than I had intended lmaoo I think this is one of the first ones where the banner is like 😈🔥⛓🏴‍☠️🖤💀 but the content is like 💖☺️🌷🔫💟✨ idk, I thought it was fun! Tiefling Yunho is just a giant puppy dog... Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Possession, Monster Features Word Count: 1,729 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

“Little Mouse,” A deep chuckle reverberates against the cold stone walls. “You know it’s futile to try and escape me.”

Amused lips quirk upwards in the corners. “It’s cute how you think I should be the one afraid of you.”

“Brave words coming from such a measly little human.” Yunho chuckles, his voice echoing around the ruins you’ve chosen to play this little game in.

“Watch it,” You warn, eyes narrowing slightly, “Or else this ‘measly little human’ is gonna walk their fine ass out of here.”

A head peeks around a broken wall, a small pout adorning his features. His hands curl around the stone, curved horns glinting beneath the light of the setting sun. Subtly, his eyebrows furrow upwards in concern.

“Sorry, Baby.”

A light puff of laughter escapes you, waving him off with your hand. Silently, you assure him it’s fine, motioning for the two of you to get on with your game.

He disappears back around the corner, and you both count to ten. After all, it’s no fun hunting the other if you know exactly where they’ve been hiding.

Moving quickly through the ruins, you find a new starting position. Yunho already has an advantage over you, being what he is, but you’ve lived with supernaturals long enough to know how to get around their heightened senses. Besides, he told you he would play fair, and you believe him.

This isn’t your first time engaging in this type of sport.

The damp earth is soft beneath your feet as you creep along a tattered stone wall. The area you’ve chosen is a particularly favourite spot of yours, hidden deep within the forest. The ruins of the old mill continue to crumble to this day, but the intricate way the rubble shapes itself leads to wonderful hiding spots. The crumpled building acts as a small maze, the surrounding trees the barrier to your impromptu arena.

Pressing your back against a stone wall, you rest just beside what used to be an open archway. You can hear the stream rushing in the background, and the soft sound of birds tittering in the trees above. A gentle breeze floats through the leaves, rustling as a few scattered raindrops fall from their green holders.

Straining your ears, you search for any signs of your lover.

Calming your breathing is easy, and you begin to pick out movement that wasn’t there before.

A footstep here. 

The snapping of a twig there.

Wherever he is, he’s moving closer, and you’ll be damned if you let him win this time.

Slipping your hand into your back pocket, you pull out a small object. Tightening your fingers around the handle, you prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. Everything has to be perfect, otherwise all of your meticulous planning will be for naught.

It’s time you had him at your mercy, instead of the other way around.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” His gentle voice cuts through your thoughts.

Whipping your head towards the sound, you begin stalking closer to him. The corner of your lips quirks upwards, internally chuckling at the sudden one-eighty he seems to have done. Then again, Yunho can hardly ever go a day without complimenting you at least three times. 

It’s sweet, and you wouldn’t want him any other way. So, you decide to use this to your advantage.

“Hmmm, I don’t think you have.” You hum, keeping your voice low as you continue creeping through the ruins. “Have I told you how handsome you look with your horns out?”

A soft, giddy giggle sounds from your left.

“Should I keep them out longer, then?”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see a shadow dart by.

“Well, that depends.”

“On?” His inquiry is eager, voice drawling out from behind the ruins of a tattered staircase.

Slowly, you inch closer, weapon at the ready.

“Do you want me to jump your bones every time I see you?”

Another giddy giggle echoes around the stones, causing your brow to quirk.

“Oh? Does My Baby like that idea?” You grin to yourself, catching a glimpse of his soft brown hair as you slowly begin to climb the remaining stairs. “Knowing I can’t keep my hands to myself when I see him? Or how about how much I love holding onto those glorious horns while I fuck his face?”

You swear a low moan escapes him.

“I thought you said we weren’t allowed to play dirty.” His voice drops, a gravelly rumble that fills the area and goes straight to your core.

“But Darling,” You coo, eyes glinting as you stand over him on the steps. “You should know by now that if I’m going to get down and dirty, it will only ever be with you.”

A sharp inhale is given by the half-demon below, and you use this opportunity to strike. 

Letting out a gleeful cry of victory you jump down from your spot. You raise your weapon to strike, grin stretching wide across your features. Only, the moment your feet land on the soft earth, your ankle decides to give out beneath you.

“Jesus- fuck!” The words escape you as you go tumbling to the ground, arms splayed out before you.

A boisterous laugh sounds from behind you as you spit a mixture of dirt and leaves from your mouth.

“Blech!” You stick your tongue out, wiping at your mud covered clothes after pushing yourself upwards and into a sitting position.

“Are you alright?” The comforting hand of your boyfriend places itself gently upon your back, rubbing lightly as he soothes you. Still, there is no mistaking the laughter that clings to his words.

“Oh, now you want to check on me?” You huff, giving him a dramatic pout. You turn away from him playfully, crossing your arms over your chest as his jaw drops. “No, no, it’s fine!”

Another chuckle escapes him, a tender gleam in his dark eyes as he kneels beside you. His one hand continues to stroke over your upper back while the other gently places his toy water gun onto the ground.

“You almost had me.” He hums, checking you over for any serious injuries. When he finds none, the breath of relief he lets out is audible, even to you.

Your brow quirks, and you have to restrain yourself from letting a devious grin stretch onto your features.

“Who said the game was over?”

In the blink of an eye, you’re rolling out of his touch. Before he has a chance to react, you grab his water gun from the ground, pointing it directly at his head. Now armed with two of the same weapons, you laugh maniacally as you relentlessly pull the triggers.

The moment the water hits Yunho’s face, he recoils slightly backwards. His eyes are closed, lips pulled into a line as his shoulders deflate. A sigh of amusement escapes him, shaking his head as you continue to squirt water into his face.

After a few more moments filled with your victorious laughter, you lower your weapons.

Bringing a hand up to his face, Yunho wipes the water from his skin. Shaking his now damp bangs out, he blinks his eyes open.

“I got you good!” You cheer, wiggling happily in your spot.

Yunho can only chuckle at the ear-splitting grin that has stretched across your features. “You got me good.”

“You should have seen your face!” You tease lightheartedly. “Bet you didn’t think I could sneak up on you like that.”

“Maybe I let you sneak up on me.” He hums, almost knowingly.

You snort out a laugh. “Don’t kid yourself, Babe.”

He shakes his head in amusement, small droplets of water continuing to drip down his skin.

“You know,” He quirks a brow, tongue darting out over his lips, “This isn’t the typical way I enjoy getting wet.”

Your eyes go wide, lips parting slightly in disbelief at the sudden dark look in his eyes. A moment later and you manage to calm yourself, a knowing smirk pulling at your features. You watch as he pushes himself to his feet, brushing off the dirt on his knees before walking over and offering you his hand.

“Well then, my good sir,” You grin, taking his hand into your own. “How do you enjoy getting soaked?”

A low, pleased growl rumbles out from his chest as he pulls you back onto your feet. Only, he doesn’t let you go, opting to tug you right into his awaiting arms. Dark eyes stare at you with nothing but loving desire, his hand splaying over your lower back.

The feeling of his claws teasing at the hem of your shirt has a shiver rushing down your spine.

“I could tell you.” He hums, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. Gently, his thumb traces over your bottom lip, admiring you openly as the last rays of the golden sun filter through the trees. “But I think I’d rather show you.”

With those words, Yunho is scooping you into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. A wide grin settles onto his features, hand cupping your ass as another pleased rumble shakes his chest. The way you let out a little squeak as he smacks your ass is simply icing on the cake.

“Yunho!” You squeal, wiggling slightly in his grip as giggles escape you. “Put me down!”

“Oh, I’ll put you down eventually.” He nuzzles his cheek against your hip, squeezing your ass appreciatively. “There’s a nice fire waiting for us in the hearth back at the cabin, begging to bathe your skin in its amber glow. Perhaps even some nice wine…”

You hum, ceasing your playful attempts to wiggle out of his grip. “Keep talking.”

“Soft blankets, some fairy lights,” He continues. “And just for you, an eager half-demon who wants you to grip onto his horns as he buries his face into that delectable cunt of yours.”

A pleasant shiver runs up your spine, and you practically melt into his arms. “I can commit to that.”

“Good. I am but a humble servant to your pleasure right now, and I never want you to forget that, Darling.” He chuckles lowly, his hand caressing over your ass as he walks closer and closer to your shared home. “Tonight, you’re in charge.”

[lucyrose191]

A SHARED HISTORY| S.VETTEL

Paring Sebastian Vettel x Fem!driver!reader

Summary; Moments that Sebastian Vettel and reader have had throughout their careers together both on and off track.

Warnings; None, fluff.

F1 Master List , Part 2 , Part 3

Sebastian and Y/N walked into the camera shot, sitting next to each other on the sofa, looking into the camera lens.

"We hereby announce our joint retirement at the end of the 2022 season" they spoke in unison.

📍Italian Grand Prix, 2008

"And Sebastian Vettel passes the checkered flag, taking his first ever win in formula one at the Italian Grand Prix!"

Y/N lifted herself out of her RedBull car after parking in the P2 slot, not wasting any time before running in the direction of her best friend who was getting hugs and pats from the Toro Rosso team.

She jumped into his arms just as he turned around causing him to let out an "Oof!" as he stumbled back into the barriers from the sudden surprise attack.

"I'm so proud of you, Seb! I wouldn't want to come second to anyone else!" Sebastian closed his eyes at her words before tightening his arms around her and lifted her feet from the ground, spinning her around and laughing happily.

"Sebastian, you're going to be joining Y/N at RedBull next year. What do you think she's going to be like as a teammate?"

Sebastian's face upturned into a smile at the mention of Y/N's name, to say he was looking forward to being teammates next year was an understatement. He had a very good feeling about it.

He leant towards the microphone that the interviewer was holding "Well I think it will be great, I've known her for a long time and I'm happy to say I'm at the point where I understand what she's saying, it's taken a while to get used to her accent"

"...You just wait sunshine, you just wait... I just need those two cars... Rosberg P4.... Kubica P5.... DU BIST WELTMEISTER!"

Sebastian immediately started crying, he was world champion! "Thank you boys! Unbelievable! Unbelievable! Thank you, I love you"

"Let's not forget, mate. You are the youngest world champion in F1 history, you're allowed to cry mate, you're allowed to cry"

"Y/N L/N you are a formula one World Champion!!!!"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing through her head set as she flashed by the checkered flag, tears streamed down her face underneath her helmet as she raised her fist in victory whilst driving her cool down lap.

She had done it, she had actually gone and done it.

The first ever female formula one world champion!

"Sebastian Vettel you are a two time World Champion!"

"Sebastian Vettel, Three time World Champion!"

"Four time World Champion, Sebastian Vettel everyone!"

2014

Y/N screamed as Sebastian jumped out of the door of her motor home just as she was about to open it, the German himself fell to the floor in hysterical laughter at the look of horror he saw on her face.

"What the fuck, Sebastian!" She yelled, Seb got up and ran away still laughing knowing she'd be out for revenge

2014

Sebastian, Y/N, Fernando and Lewis sat down, strapping their microphones around their head for the press conference to begin.

"Okay, let's begin"

A tall male with balding hair stood up and introduced himself, then started "I want to start with Sebastian, both you and Y/N are leaving RedBull this year, you to Ferrari and Y/N to Mercedes. Do you think you'll be able to have as a good of a relationship with your new teammate as you've had with Y/N"

"You're trying to get me into trouble here" Sebastian laughed nervously, shifting under Y/N's expectant gaze.

"No uhm" he began to answer seriously "Y/N and I have known each other and raced together for years so it was easy to battle each other while also working together, it's important to get along with the person you spend so much time with and I'll be happy if I have half the relationship with Kimi as I do with Y/N"

Y/N smiled brightly "I'm just that great!" She joked causing Seb to roll his eyes.

"And Y/N, how do you feel about joining Lewis at Mercedes?"

Y/N shrugged "I'm excited to be hopefully moving up in my career, Mercedes feels like a right choice for me to continue progressing. Lewis is a great driver and hopefully an even better teammate. I'll enjoy racing beside him whilst battling against him"

Sebastian rested his forehead against Y/N's, closing his eyes as he relished in the comfort that their closeness brought him. "I love you, Schatz" he whispered, not even realising that the words had fallen from his lips until he felt her step away from him.

Y/N looked up at him, her mouth was gaped open, wondering if she had heard him right. She had. She looked into his eyes and could see every emotion as he looked at her and sure enough there was love, so much love as he looked at her. "I love you too, Seb" she told him, laughing at the utter joy that shot through his face.

Sebastian shook his head. She loved him.

She loved him!

"Y/N L/N you officially have two World Championship titles, what a star!"

"Y/N L/N, three time formula one World Champion!!"

Y/N leant her body back against Seb's chest, he stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist with his head resting against her shoulder. She was a three time world champion, that was now seven between them.

Between them they had matched Michael Schumacher. Now if that wasn't an accomplishment, what was?

Sebastian nuzzled his head against hers, she smelt so good. "Will you be mine?" He whispered in her ear, his lips curving into a soft smile as he felt her shiver.

She didn't answer for a while, continuing to look out at the ocean and for a moment Seb thought that she was going to say no, she shook her head and he felt his heart crack.

But she had a smile on her face. "I've been yours for years, Sebastian" she told him, surprised that he hadn't known that but he wasn't the most aware person she had ever met but she wouldn't change him for anything.

"Y/N L/N, four time formula one World Champion!!"

"The rear of the car was getting all loosey goosey in the last sector there"~Sebastian Vettel

"Y/N L/N, five time formula one World Champion!!"

"Y/N L/N, six time formula one World Champion!!"

Sebastian applauded as he looked up at podium with a look of pure pride on his face, that was his girlfriend up there that was making history, not only was she a six time world champion but she was the first ever woman to achieve a world championship title for the sport.

They had shared the track together for the entirety of their Formula One careers and he felt so lucky that he had been there to witness every one of her accomplishments as she had been there for him.

They had 10 world titles between the pair of them, the history of the sport meant so much to the couple and it was overwhelming knowing that they were now a part of it.

"Everybody's a Ferrari fan, even if they say they're not, they are a Ferrari fan" ~Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian looked up at the love of his life from his position knelt on the floor, this moment had been a long time coming but he had finally plucked up the courage to ask the most important question he would ever ask "Will you marry me, liebe?"

Y/N looked down at the man that owned her heart, there was no hesitation in her answer "Yes! Absolutely!" The tears that clouded her eyes had begun to drop down her cheeks.

Sebastian smiled brighter than ever at her answer, he lifted himself off the ground and took the diamond ring out of the velvet box, grabbing hold of her shaking hand and sliding the ring into her finger. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips before looking her in the eyes.

He had never been happier in this moment, no number of world titles would match the feeling of having her agree to spend forever with him.

Now he felt like a true champion.

"And the Vettel's are at it!" Crofty shouted as he spotted Y/N's Mercedes get up close to her husband's Ferrari, the battles between the two were something every Formula One fan looked forward too each season.

Sebastian grinned beneath his helmet as he eyed his wife's car through his mirrors. She loved to challenge him and he enjoyed the fight.

She tried to get the inside line going into the first corner but Seb managed to block her causing her to have to lock up, he went slightly wide on the second which left a gap that might be a little too small for most but she took the risk and ended up beside him on the straight.

Side by side they shot along but at the next corner. Y/N took the inside and had managed to pull away from him on the exit, successfully leaving Seb behind her.

He couldn't be mad, his wife did well, just as she always did.

HOT LAPS

Y/N got into the passenger seat of the Ferrari, her husband shutting the passenger door before making his way round to the drivers side.

She hadn't been told they were doing hot laps for Sky Sports, her PR Officer had suddenly sprung it on her but apparently Seb knew and was very excited about it.

Sebastian settled himself in behind the wheel smiling at the camera's before nudging his wife "Are you excited!?" He asked, a big smile on his face.

Y/N rolled her eyes "I'm so excited for you to kill us" her sarcasm was clear as day, she was only joking, they were both very good drivers and had 100% confidence in each other.

Sebastian's grin widened, he switched the car on after making sure Y/N had her belt on before slamming his foot down on the accelerator sending Y/N shooting back against her seat with a grunt. "Fuck me, a warning would've been nice" she huffed.

"You're meant to be asking me questions" Sebastian told her, trying not to laugh. He couldn't wait to watch this back and see her face.

Y/N picked up the cards she had in her hands as Seb skidded around a corner "Okay, What is it like to have a wife that is a better driver than you?" Her voice wavered from the movement to the car.

Sebastian scoffed "Come off it! That is not a question"

His wife laughed "It is, I mean I have the titles to prove it"

"Yeah and you never let me forget it, ask me a real question" Sebastian said, narrowly missing the track wall as he turned around another corner.

Y/N huffed, he was no fun "Okay fine, when are you going to get Instagram?" She read from the sheet.

"I'm not, I don't need it" he simply replied. Y/N sent him a cheeky smile "yeah that's because you use mine to do all of the stalking"

"Exactly" he replied, a smirk on his face. They both kept their home life private but they did share the rare photo of some of the activities they did away from racing.

Y/N laughed as she read the next question which made Seb a little nervous "Who do you prefer as a teammate, me or Kimi?" She asked.

Sebastian guffawed "I'm not answering that" he replied which earned him an incredulous look "oh so you have to think about it?" She asked.

"You're both good for different reasons" he said.

"Okay so what is Kimi good for that I'm not?" She asked with a look that dared him to answer.

"Some peace and quiet" he muttered under his breath causing Y/N to gasp and slap his arm "That is just rude!" She said, pretending to be offended.

"I'm joking" he told her with a cheeky grin before slamming on the brakes as they reached the pits.

Y/N crept up behind Sebastian who was in the middle of an interview, she looked at the camera and placed her finger to her lips, warning the interviewer and the camera man to be quiet.

Those who saw what she was up to stopped to watch, trying to hide their amused smirks and giggles as Sebastian remained blissfully unaware, too focused on answering questions.

She got up right behind him and before he could sense the presence behind him she raised her arm up and poured the ice cold water over his head.

Sebastian shrieked and spluttered as everyone laughed, turning around he came face to face with the proud smile of his wife. He shook his head like a wet dog causing water to splatter everywhere, he launched himself at her. Y/N screamed, trying to run away but she was too slow, her husband had caught her and had pulled her into his chest, rubbing himself all over her to get her wet as payback.

Everyone in the Formula One world loved the prank wars that occurred in the paddock between the married couple.

DRIVE TO SURVIVE

"My name is Sebastian Vettel and I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari"

"My name is Y/N Vettel and I'm a Formula One driver for Mercedes AMG Petronas... yes! Fuck you Lewis... that's how you do it!"

"Seb's a four time world champion, and one of the most ruthless, brilliantly effective racing drivers that I've ever seen... You don't lose that ability overnight" ~Will Buxton

"Y/N just has this fire about her when she's on the track, she's one of the most determined and skilled driver's in the whole of formula one, I think her six World titles show that" ~Toto Wolff

GRILL THE GRID

Daniel Ricciardo threw his head back and sighed "I think the Vettel's will get those, they're both nerds"

"I have all the time I need?" Sebastian asked the filming crew who nodded in response.

S: "Lewis 2020,

      Y/N 2019,2018,2017,2016,2015, 2014

Y: Seb was 2013,2012,2011 and 2010

     2009 was Jenson Button

     2008 Lewis

S: Kimi 2007

    2006 and 2005 was Fernando

    2004,2003,2002,2001,2000 was Michael

Y: 1999 and 1998 was Hakkinen

     1997.... Villeneuve

Time skip

S: 1953 and 1952 was Ascari

    1951 was Fangio

S&Y: and the first one was Farina

The filming crew couldn't believe it, they clapped for the pair whilst shaking their heads in disbelief. The couple really were a pair made in heaven.

Y/N looked at the crew with a proud, excited smile on her face "Did I do it!?"

The crew nodded, Y/N's mouth dropped open before she smiled at the camera and bowed "I'm so proud of myself right now"

"Sebastian got them all right too" the camera man told her. Y/N laughed "Of course he did, who do you think taught me"

Y/N and Sebastian had just raced their last ever race in formula one, she had managed to get on the podium which was a great way to finish her career, one last trophy.

The drivers had all lined up to give the couple a last send off which was really sweet.

"Y/N! Sebastian! Can I get you for one last interview before you leave? I know you're probably sick of all the questions" Natalie Pinkham asked.

She was right, they were tired of all the questions but everyone had a soft spot for Natalie so it only felt right that she should be their last interviewer of the paddock and so the couple walked up to her.

"I was wondering if you could tell us a bit about your decision to retire together, I know you already explained a lot when it was announced but is there anything else that you have to add?" She asked, holding out the microphone between the couple.

Sebastian's hand settled on Y/N's back, his thumb stoking up and down, encouraging her to speak first.

"It wasn't an easy decision and we know that we definitely had the opportunity to continue racing but we have goals outside of formula one that we want to accomplish together and feel now is the time to work towards those goals, Seb and I entered formula one together and it feels right to leave it together too, it's great knowing that we quite literally went through the entire thing with each other"

Sebastian smiled lovingly down at his wife, she had described it perfectly. He knew she still loved racing just as she had when she first started and truly she had only agreed to retire because he had chosen to and she didn't want to race without him on the grid with her but he had lost his spark, he has tried to persuade her to continue but she was adamant.

"How about you, Sebastian?" Natalie asked, tilting the microphone closer to him.

"I think she worded it perfectly, I couldn't think of anyone better to spend my career with, formula one has given us both a lot of special memories but it's time for us to move onto the next step and you'll probably still see us around at some point"

Natalie nodded with a smile and thanked them before letting them get on their way.

Sebastian brought Y/N into a hug, holding her tight against his chest. "This is it, it's over now." He mumbled.

Y/N hummed into his race suit "Maybe. But it's the start of something better"

[sweetfushi]

THROUGH HEAVEN AND HELL

synopsis. satoru gojo is the strongest in all aspects - the honoured one. though he thinks you were sent to tell him, or make him feel, otherwise.

fluff, angst | satoru gojo x reader, fluff, angst, self-deprecation, major character death, feelings of loneliness and unworthiness, descriptions of gore and burns | word count. 1.1k ◦ notes. spot the shakespeare reference (this was going to have a happy ending i swear).

Gojo had befriended loneliness. He found that the company of others inevitably led to either his or their downfall, so he’d become accustomed to living his life alongside paranoia. That’s why when he began desiring your permanence, he was scared. Not only of himself but of what about you had meant he felt this way. 

"You need to stop," he tells you one day when you smile and wave at him as you always do. 

Your smile drops, your hand lowering. "What do you mean?" Usually, he’d greet you back with a smile of his own and ask if you wanted to head into town, or tell you about the latest mission he was assigned to. Instead, you see his shoulders tense and his eyes lower, though his expression is anything but angry. Rather, he looks conflicted, spiteful of himself. 

“Don’t keep following me around,” his voice trembles, causing him to pause momentarily to inhale deeply. “I don’t feel like the strongest around you.” 

For a moment, the two of you stand there in silence, his back to you and your eyes wide. You don’t have it in you to ask again, about what he means, though you’re not sure why. The way he says it, it’s almost as if he’s aching to tell you to find someone else to cling to, someone who isn’t sought after like an animal. Satoru had seen you around Kento and Suguru, hanging out and filling the silence of the school with your laughter. He wanted to tell you to go to them instead, to see if he was the weak one or if you had been sent as his this-worldly punishment.

Satoru was terrified to admit that he knew it was the former.

And yet, he turns to face you fully, his hands in his pockets. “I love you,” he inhales deeply again. “I want to spend every waking moment with you and I can’t forgive myself for how selfish that is.” Satoru tells you this with surprising calmness, because he couldn’t let you witness the embodiment of the guilt and fear he felt internally.

“Is that what selfishness is now?” You practically spit. “You want to deprive yourself of love because you think it’s selfish?” A big part of you knows you shouldn’t be talking to him like this instead of comforting him and telling him your reciprocated feelings, but you hate what he just told you.

“Yes,” he responds despondently, “and I need you to stop acting as if you can’t tell.”

You readily start to respond, until he doesn’t allow you to.

“But I don’t usually listen to what I need,” he admits.

That makes your breath hitch and kills the words spilling from your mouth. The tone of his voice remains borderline desperate, but you hear the shift from utter self-loathing to a near acceptance of it. You can’t see his eyes, but that never felt like a barrier to you. It never stopped you from feeling everything he expressed to you, and that certainly didn’t differ now that his hand reached up to pull his blindfold up, enough to let you see his sparkling eyes.

His eyes are so bright and yet so dulled with tears.

His smile is so kind and yet so pained with fear.

“I want you by my side through heaven and hell, through this world and the next. I want you to experience my selfishness first hand and tell me if you think I still deserve the smile you show me.”

You almost laugh with how overwhelmed you are. First he wants to push you away and now he dares you to endure his love? Is he joking with you? You’d kill him if he is.

“I’d follow you through it all, Satoru.”

His smile widens and triggers the stream of his tears, yet he’s silent as he stares into your eyes. You want to tell him to stop looking at you with an amount of love you don’t know what to do with, but you felt as though he’d be the one to teach you.

But Satoru knew he shouldn’t have trusted himself. What comfortable hour could he name that ever graced others in his company? Why did he assume that his happiness would be permitted? He was never friends with blessings, his isolation informed him of that much. So why did he think you would turn out any different?

Did he truly spiral into a pit of foolishness? Did he truly convince himself that you weren’t going to inevitably lay lifeless in his arms?

How pathetic.

More so that he hadn’t been there to witness the cause of it all. Did the Sorcerer Killer cause you to die painfully? Did you die with his name flourishing between your lips? Your name had died between his lips the moment he locked eyes with your lifeless pair.

“Have I befriended the devil?” Satoru whispers, his voice hoarse.

“I presume even the devil fears you, Satoru,” Nanami places a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to look away from the sight of you.

Your stomach had been ripped into, your flesh torn and mangled. Had you somehow had the strength to walk when it happened to you, your broken legs wouldn’t have let you. Satoru watches as your lips dry and your uniform slides down your shoulders in tatters, exposing further bruises on your gorgeous skin.

You followed him too far. He should have substituted for you on this mission. When you’d heard him negotiating with Principal Yaga on it, you had laughed at his concern and rejected his help.

“I’m insulted that you think I won’t make it out alive, Satoru.”

“I need you to sit this one out, Y/N. Please.”

“I thought you didn’t listen to your needs?”

“All exceptions I’ve made have been for you. You know this.”

Him and Nanami had been called as backup by another sorcerer who had accompanied you, another victim of death’s kiss not too far from your own corpse. Instead, Nanami called a recovery team to the scene the moment he witnessed the detonation. The blond wouldn’t have recognised your scarred body if it wasn’t for the signature emblem that dangled from your breast pocket.

What was harder than him trying to endure the sight of you was trying to convince Gojo to look away.

Satoru lifts his blindfold and approaches your corpse unsteadily, granite and debris crunching under his boots as he attempts to conceal the way he stumbles towards you. Once he finally makes it to you, he lowers himself to his knees before they give out on him.

“Do I have to be the one to follow you now?” He sighs shakily, letting his hand grasp your charred one. He had been oblivious to it, but it had been made clear now. Satoru didn’t need to think about it further to understand.

He had been your punishment for indulging in your love for such a selfish creature.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[holllandtrash]

6t1 girlie going to celebrate that p2 real nice I reckon

silverstone celebrations | lando norris

continuation of the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

lando gets a podium, his first one at his home race and surely that calls for a celebration. it's unfortunate, however, that the hotel walls aren't soundproof.

word count: 3.5k tags/warning: slight smut, fingering, female receiving, lando's a little shit but hey it's his podium, poorly translated french im so sorry, also not rly edited that well

Lando squeezed you so tight over the barriers, lifting your feet off the ground despite there being a clear fence to separate the drivers from their teams. There was no doubt in your mind that he would pull you over if he wouldn’t get in trouble from the stewards. 

The neon hat fell from your head as he kissed you, not like you cared, you hated it anyway. ‘You look like a highlighter’ Charles had said when you showed up in the paddock on Friday sporting the new Grandstand merch line Lando came out with specifically for this race. It was true, though. You looked like a highlighter all weekend, but you knew Lando loved seeing you in his merch and god were you easy to spot when he got out of the car in parc ferme. 

In the sea of orange and black McLaren crew members, there you were. Tears streamed down your face as you waited to congratulate Lando for his P2 finish. You were selfish about it too. You didn’t care that there were other people around you waiting to congratulate him, Zak Brown included, his family included, you wanted to kiss him and you wanted the world to see how proud you were that Lando had claimed a podium for the first time at his home race.

You pulled back, hands cupping his face. You couldn’t tell if your palms were sweaty or if Lando’s face was damp with sweat, it didn’t matter honestly, you just needed to look at him. You needed to see the excitement on his face, you wanted to take this moment in.

His hand covered yours as his eyes were squinting from how large his smile was. “We did it. We did it! P2, we-”

“No, you did it,” your voice came out broken, your happy sob choked you up and Lando nodded. He did it. You laughed, because how could you not. This was the happiest you had felt in a long time. “You did it, Lando. And I’m so, so proud of you. I love you. You did it.”

He gave your hand a squeeze before he was pulled away by someone else. A driver, a crew member, you weren’t sure. The rest of that celebration turned into a blur and it wasn’t until you felt champagne being sprayed on you as Lando stood atop the podium did it sink in that he accomplished something truly incredible at his home race. At McLaren’s home race. This would be a moment he would remember for the rest of his life and with every bone in your body, with every fibre of your being, you were proud of him. 

Witnessing Charles’ accomplishments through the years had always brought you a sense of joy but this was something else. As Lando pointed at you from where he stood, a few metres above everyone else, you couldn’t explain the feeling in your chest. There were no words to explain how you felt, you just wanted to embrace this victory and be there for Lando. 

Maybe it was because Lando said ‘we’. We did it, he told you. Staring directly into your glossy eyes because to him, the two of you were a team as much as him and McLaren were. His victory, his second place finish and you were very much a part of it. You were his biggest supporter, his loudest cheerleader, his motivation. He wanted to do well for McLaren of course, always, but god there was no better feeling in the world than having a good practice time or a decent quali session and seeing the look on your face. You were proud to call him yours and Lando desperately wanted to make a habit out of seeing your wide smile and teary eyes. 

Honestly, he couldn’t believe it when you showed up on Friday wearing the neon Grandstand jumper. Lime green? Highlighter yellow? It was bright and hideous, is what it was, but Lando loved it and then he loved it even more seeing you in it. He didn’t know you had planned on wearing it, having shown up to the track later than him but it was a wonderful surprise. 

And then Saturday, you showed up in the t-shirt and the baseball hat, the same blinding colour and he loved you even more for it. 

Sunday, he was certain you’d wear something else. The paddock was also a fashion show for some people and he knew you liked to dress up.

But no, there you were again. Baseball hat, bright green jumper, you even managed to find a pair of cotton shorts in a similar colour and you could be seen a mile away. You hated it, but you loved Lando, so you could sacrifice your dignity for his home race.

Of course, you changed as soon as you could. Deciding on an orange cropped cami and white trousers, colours that highlighted your summer glow and showed just enough skin that it had Lando rubbing his hand over his face as he muttered something under his breath about how beautiful you were. You had just strapped on the second heel and straightened up when Lando came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist.

Your head rolled back onto his shoulder when his lips found your neck. His soft and slow kisses on your already hot skin had your breath hitching in your throat. You leaned into his chest, pressing your back as close as you could to him. Every inch of you that touched Lando lit a fire within your core.

“We could skip dinner,” Lando’s voice was low, barely above a whisper as the idea flowed from his mind into your ear, something he wanted to suggest earlier. A lot earlier.

He wanted to drag you into his driver's room and watch you drop to your knees in front of him. He wanted to leave marks on your skin in the backseat of the car with the partition rolled up. He wanted to pin you up against the wall as soon as you stepped foot into the hotel room, holding your hands above your head until you were begging to touch him.

But god forbid he had post race duties that kept any of that from happening.

The debrief. The fan stage with that disgusting shoey, but he had to keep his promise to Daniel about keeping the tradition alive. The individual thank you’s and handshakes to everyone he passed in the garage and paddock. And now the dinner with friends and family that was technically his idea but would it be so bad if he cancelled? 

Or at least, showed up late?

“We have a reservation-”

“Doesn’t mean we need to be the first ones there,” Lando pointed out, a deep chuckle emitting from his throat. One of his hands trailed downwards, playing with the button on the front of your pants before popping it open. His pinky traced over the thin material of your panties and there wasn’t a single word of discouragement that passed your lips when he pulled the zipper down, just a quiet whimper and Lando could have sworn he heard you say please.

You rolled your hips against him, feeling the tightening in his own pants as he spread his palm across your abdomen, fingers gripping your skin. 

He dipped past the hem of your underwear, the tip of his finger just barely teasing your clit. You swallowed, lifting your hand up to drag your nails through the hair on the back of your neck, pulling his lips to your neck once more because if you were going to feel Lando you wanted to feel him everywhere. 

His hand slipped further down, using his middle finger to swipe through your folds, already feeling how wet you were for him. What he didn’t know was there had been a pool forming since you first thought about celebrating his podium finish. You were as desperate for him as he was for you.

“Lando,” you whispered. His name was your plea, asking him to do something aside from his painfully slow motions. He took your earlobe between his teeth and you tightened your grip on his hair in response, your body reacting to him and his touch the way it always did. 

“Don’t rush me,” a breath of a laugh fell from his lips as he pressed another kiss to the spot below your ear. The slightest bit of pressure was applied to your centre as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Only fair I get to celebrate the way I want, don’t you think?”

“Let me treat you, then,” you tried to suggest, more than happy to switch positions and bring him to the edge before dinner. But you shouldn’t have been surprised when Lando’s response was to tighten his hold on you, his clothed erection pressing into your backside. 

“Maybe later,” he pushed the idea aside, wanting nothing more than to see your knees go weak and hear you call out his name because God only knew it was a better experience than any podium ceremony could ever give him. The crowd cheering for him was one thing. But you begging for him? Otherworldly. 

You opened your mouth again to argue with him, but your words escaped you when Lando pushed two fingers past your tight folds, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. He took his time until eventually he was knuckles deep inside of you and all you could do was cling onto him for dear life, a quiet chorus of please and faster encouraged him to find a steady pace. 

Lando’s breath on your neck and his fingers sliding in and out of you had your legs giving out. If it wasn't for him physically holding up you’d be a goner. One particularly hard thrust upwards from him and the most beautiful moan echoed off the walls. He scissored his fingers against your walls, fighting back a groan himself when you clenched around him.

You were lost in your own little world that you didn’t even notice Lando trail his free hand up until it came to a stop where your jaw met your throat. His grip tightened, thumb finding your chin to tilt your face towards him as you rested on his shoulder. 

“So pretty,” he praised, dragging your lower lip down ever so slightly. You stared up at him, wide eyes, fluttered lashes, stammered breaths…a sight he wanted permanently seared into his mind. 

It wasn’t right. You should have been on your knees for him. It was his day, you wanted to show him just how proud you were, you wanted to congratulate him with his cock hitting the back of your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.

But Lando loved this. You could celebrate your way later. Right now, he couldn’t ask for anything more.

He picked up the pace of his fingers, determined to bring you to the edge before you had to go to this fucking dinner. As far as Lando was concerned, he’d be happy enough with you as a meal. The mental image of you spread out on the bed as he dipped his head between your thighs was almost enough to convince him to call off the celebration tonight. 

Almost. 

Because the idea of being able to tease you throughout the rest of the evening was too good to pass up as well. 

You swallowed heavily, feeling the familiar build up in your core, that burning sensation spread through your veins. An awaiting euphoria that only Lando could deliver to you. 

His eyes darkened, recognizing the way your walls clenched around him in anticipation. His assault on your pussy quickened, the thrust of his fingers, his thumb over your clit, all of it was bringing you to the edge. 

So one could imagine, this was the worst time for there to be a knock on your hotel room door only a few feet away from you. 

Lando’s hand covered your mouth, knowing you were one who struggled to be quiet. Your eyes widened, your heart rate picking up and Lando only made the situation worse by not stopping. You could have sworn he sped up even.

He cleared his throat and called out to whoever was on the other side, waiting in the hall, “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if you guys had left yet,” Charles' muffled voice came through the door. “Want to share a car?”

Lando, with a devious smirk on his face as his motions became stronger, rougher, happily answered knowing how much you were hating this. “We’d love to! We’ll be out in a moment, hang tight, mate.”

Charles said something else, something you didn’t catch as you were too focused on controlling your breaths behind Lando’s palm and praying that these walls were sound proof enough. 

This was horrid. Knowing your brother was right outside the door as Lando worked desperately to push you over the edge.

He trailed his lips to your ear, “I hope you're close, love. Would hate to keep him waiting.”

You nodded, your whole body quivering. You were so close. 

Lando slowly dropped his hand from your mouth, finding the look of sheer panic on your face to be amusing. 

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” He taunted, knowing damn well you couldn’t. 

“Lando-” it was hard to even get his name out, closing your jaw immediately when a moan threatened to escape next. 

Another harsh thrust of his fingers had your hips bucking against him. It was a stark contrast from the way his thumb softly grazed over your cheek, his eyes encouraging you to give in, let go. Lando certainly didn’t give a single shit if your brother heard. 

And you tried to be quiet, really. You bit the inside of your cheek as your orgasm hit you hard. Lando kept you steady and upright against his body, slowly working you through it. You fought with yourself to keep from shouting his name but there was nothing you could do about the angelic moan passing through your lips. Lando buried his face into the crook of your neck, a low rumble emitting from the back of his throat. 

When you stopped pulsating around his fingers, Lando slid them out of you. He kissed your neck and then your cheek and then tilted your face to kiss your lips, gently, lovingly, softly. It almost made you forget your brother was quite literally waiting for both of you.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Lando rolled his eyes, “You can’t hate me today, I got a podium.”

“Then I hate you tomorrow.”

Lando nodded, “That’s fine.” He kissed your cheek again as you lifted yourself off of his shoulder. He patted your butt as you turned around, “Go change, I’ll stall.”

Usually he would opt to lick your juices clean off his fingers, but he decided washing his hands would probably be the best decision. He adjusted himself as much as best as he could before looking down the hallway, not letting himself get distracted as you slipped a skirt on.

Lando opened the door to the hotel and nodded at Charles who was leaning against the wall across the way, head down as he scrolled through his phone. Charles barely acknowledged him, avoiding his eyes as he muttered something about how the car was waiting outside.

You joined them in the hall a few minutes later. Lando looked you over once and then twice, eyes narrowing at your hair but not making a comment about how you probably could have brushed it again. He just played with it as you walked next to him, both of you hoping he could smooth it out enough before you reached the restaurant. 

Charles climbed into the front seat of the awaiting car while you and Lando climbed in the back. You attempted to make conversation with your brother, asking him about the debrief, but he wasn’t giving you anything in return. One word answers at most.

You pulled out your phone and texted Lando. He heard.

Lando snickered when he read your text, coming to that assumption as well with the way Charles avoided making eye contact. Instead of answering you, Lando slid his phone into his pocket and decided that the best thing to do would not be to let the situation simmer, but to bring the pot to a boil.

“Charles,” Lando cleared his throat, his hand dropping to your thigh. “It’s nice of you to join us tonight, really.”

Charles nodded, “Yeah, anytime.”

“Well I’m not you, you know? My podiums are quite far and few between so I like to celebrate when I can.” 

Charles nodded again as you shot Lando a warning look. He ignored it, of course, because at the end of the day you fell for someone who was more immature than they ever cared to admit.

“It’s nice that Y/N’s here too, to celebrate with her,” Lando added. You squeezed his hand harsher than needed and he winced in slight pain, but didn’t let up, even when Charles chose not to respond. “Yeah she’s a great motivator-”

“Please stop talking,” Charles finally said, pleaded, actually. You could see him raise his hands to his face, breathing deeply into it. His voice was muffled as he spoke, but the pain in his voice was clear as dear. “For the love of god, Lando. Stop talking.”

Lando burst out laughing as your cheeks turned a bright shade of red. 

“Charles-” you started.

“Nope,” he cut you off, staring directly ahead at the road in front of him. You could only imagine what the driver was thinking about this interaction. Charles refused to turn over his shoulder to look at either of you. 

“We didn’t-”

“Arrêtez de parler,” Charles repeated, asking you now to stop talking. “Dites à Lando que si j'entends encore cela, je mettrai le feu à sa voiture.” Tell Lando, if I ever hear that again I will set his car on fire.

“Quelle voiture?” Which car? Not that it really mattered, but you would have preferred if Charles didn’t commit a felony during a race weekend.

“The McLaren,” Charles answered, in English, to let Lando know he was talking about him and his car despite him not being aware of the threat that just came out of his mouth. 

Lando leaned in towards you, “What did he say?”

You shook your head, not wanting to dive into it right now and thanking your lucky stars when you pulled up outside the restaurant. Charles practically sprinted inside, bypassing Daniel and Carlos who tried to say hi to him. 

When the two of you stepped out, Daniel approached you with some concern, nodding his head towards the doors, “What’s up with Leclerc?”

“He heard us,” Lando answered point-blankly. He and Daniel were still incredibly close, you shouldn’t have been surprised at how honet Lando was.

“He heard you?” Daniel repeated. “What does that mean?”

“He heard us,” you said, more emphasis on the word of the hour without getting into too much detail. It took a second, but Daniel’s face was priceless as he dipped his head back and laughed. He had to cover his mouth with his hands to keep from making too loud of a scene. 

Lando slid his hand around your waist, pulling you into his side as Daniel’s laughing fit continued. You wanted to hide your face. Actually, no, you just wanted to hide. You didn’t want to make eye contact with your brother, ever again. 

“Poor kid,” Daniel managed to get out, still chuckling. “But hey, congrats I guess-”

You reached forward, hitting Daniel’s chest and he stepped back, hands up in defence.

“For the podium,” he clarified, still grinning from ear to ear. He adjusted the hem of his collar, sending a wink towards the British driver before turning and walking inside. You and Lando waited a second, watching as Carlos clearly asked Daniel what that was about but Daniel brushed it off, telling him to ask Charles.

You stepped forward, but Lando’s hand on your waist moved to your wrist as he pulled you back. His eyes scanned over your face, seeing your red cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from your skin, losing you to the anxious way your eyes darted everywhere.

“Hey,” he whispered, hands trailing up your arms. “I love you.”

You laughed, because how could you not? Only Lando would feel the need to assure you he loved you after practically being caught by your brother, which was, technically, Lando’s fault.

“I love you,” you repeated back. “But for both of our sakes, I hope you never get a podium ever again.”

“Ah,” Lando grinned, sarcasm already heavy on his tone. “My biggest motivator, such kind words.”

“I mean it.”

You didn’t, obviously. You wanted nothing more than to see Lando’s trophy shelf filled to the brim. You wanted to see him standing on top of the podium week after week. You wanted to get used to seeing him spray the champagne over the other drivers and the crowd.

But if this was going to become a regular thing, you were certainly going to need to change the way you celebrated. Or at least, you'd be sure to confirm that the walls were soundproof.

[uniquexusposts]

I love you - L. Sargeant

Summary: Y/n when she finds out about the dismissal of Logan.

Y/n stepped out of the office building, the evening air brushing against her skin as she slipped her hand into her purse to pull out her phone. The screen flickered to life, exposing a photo that never failed to warm her heart—a snapshot of Logan, captured in a moment of pure, unguarded joy. He was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, staring straight at her through the camera with that infectious smile that made everything else in the world seem distant and insignificant. Her own smile crept across her lips, soft and instinctive.

With a small sigh of contentment, she placed her AirPods in her ears, the familiar opening chords of her favourite song easing her out of the moment and back into the present. The city around her was alive with its usual chaos—cars honking, people chattering, the distant roar of a plane overhead—but the music created a barrier, a comforting bubble that made the world feel a little less hectic, a little more bearable.

She put her phone back into her coat purse as she set off towards the tube station. The streets, though bustling with the typical rush-hour crowd, had become second nature to her; she moved through them with a kind of unconscious grace, weaving in and out of the throng with ease. The cobblestones beneath her feet were wet from a recent drizzle, reflecting the orange glow of the streetlights as dusk slowly folded into night.

Her thoughts began to drift, as they often did on these solitary walks, from the mundane details of the day’s work to the warmth waiting for her at home. The stark contrast between the bustling heart of the city, with its relentless pace and constant noise, and the quiet sanctuary they had carved out for themselves in their little corner of London, always brought her a sense of relief. It was the difference between holding her breath and finally exhaling, a sigh of contentment at the thought of their peaceful neighbourhood.

The tube station loomed ahead, its entrance a yawning mouth that swallowed the constant stream of commuters. Y/n descended the stairs, the music in her ears blending with the rhythmic clatter of trains and the murmur of voices. The train arrived with a gust of wind, the doors sliding open to reveal the usual mix of strangers packed inside. She squeezed in, finding a spot to stand near the door, one hand gripping the pole for balance as the train jolted forward. Her thoughts drifted back to Logan, to the look in his eyes when he’d kissed her goodbye that morning—a look that had seemed almost distant, like something was weighing on him, something he hadn’t quite found the words to share. 

This F1 season had been extremely difficult for Logan. The pressure, the endless travel, the scrutiny from fans and media alike—it was all beginning to take its toll on him, and she could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way his shoulders slumped when he thought no one was looking. He had always been passionate about racing, had always thrived on the adrenaline and the challenge, but this season was different. With each race, it seemed like the weight of it all was pushing him closer to the edge.

She had seen him at his best—confident, focused, driven—but lately, those moments had been few and far between. Instead, there was a weariness in his eyes, a sense of doubt that had crept in and taken root. She had tried to be there for him, to support him in every way she could, but she knew that some battles had to be fought alone. Still, it pained her to see him struggle, to see the sport he loved so much slowly drain the life out of him.

Her stop came quicker than expected. She quickly exited the tube and the station and made a quick stop at a local store, to pick up a parcel. When at the shop, her eyes spotted Kinder Bueno. Without hesitation, she bought one. Kinder Bueno was a thing in Logan and Y/n’s life. They always shared one. And Y/n felt like sharing a Kinder Bueno. The parcel safely tucked under her arm and the Kinder Bueno in her purse, she left the shop and began the walk home. The streets were quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows that danced across the pavement. She found herself appreciating the stillness, the way the city seemed to pause here, allowing her a moment of peace before she reached their flat.

The front door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, stepping into the dark hallway. The hallway was always dimly lit when someone was home, so it made her wonder if Logan was home. She closed the door behind her, took off her shoes and walked to the living area. 

“Hey,” she said slightly surprised when she saw Logan sitting in one of the chairs of the dining table. He was facing the windows, looking outside. Y/n put her purse, bag and parcel on the table and took out her AirPods. She got no answer from her boyfriend. 

There was something off in the way he sat, a stiffness in his posture that sent a ripple of unease through her. 

“Hey,” she said again, trying to get in contact with Logan. 

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Y/n standing at the other side of the table. “Hey,” he murmured, forcing a smile that barely touched his lips and never reached his eyes.

The smile was wrong—flat, almost hollow. It lacked the warmth she was used to, the easy way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he saw her, as if just her presence was enough to make everything right in the world. But tonight, that spark was missing, replaced by something cold and distant.

What a welcome after a week apart from each other, Y/n thought, a pang of sadness settling in her chest. She had been looking forward to this moment all day, to seeing him, to feeling his arms around her after what felt like an eternity of being apart. But now, standing there with him just a few feet away, she felt a chasm between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked and stepped towards him. “What is wrong?” 

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the world was pulling him down. Then, slowly, he shook his head, a tremor running through him. He took a deep breath that seemed to shudder through his entire body, he looked back at her, his expression crumbling into one of raw vulnerability.

“I’m gone,” he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a single, desperate breath. His voice cracked, the bravado he would tried to maintain splintering into pieces as the reality of his situation overwhelmed him. And just like that, he burst into tears, the sobs tearing through him with a force that startled them both. His body shook with the intensity of it, the weight of all he had been holding back crashing down on him at once. He tried to speak, to say something, anything that could make sense of what he was feeling, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was cry, releasing the anguish that had been building inside him for far too long.

He broke. 

“Fuck,” was Y/n’s first reaction. She stepped to him, closing the distance between them in an instant. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t think twice—she just wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could, trying to offer him some semblance of comfort, of safety. He buried his face in her shoulder, his tears soaking through her shirt as he clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling with her own emotions as she stroked his back, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

But she knew that right now, those words might feel empty to him. Nothing she said could change what he was going through, could make the pain disappear. All she could do was be there, hold him, and let him know that he wasn’t alone in this, no matter how lost he felt.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Y/n whispered. 

It broke her heart to see him like this. Racing was his everything. It was the fire that fuelled him, the passion that had driven him for as long as she had known him. It was more than just a job—it was his identity, his purpose. And now, that part of him had been ripped away so brutally, that he was left floundering in its absence, lost in a darkness that seemed impenetrable.

She had never seen him like this before. Even in the worst of times, he had always managed to find some glimmer of hope, some reason to keep pushing forward. But now, that strength, that resilience, seemed to have deserted him, leaving only the raw, unfiltered agony of his loss.

He couldn’t stop crying, the sobs tearing through him with a force that made her heart ache. It was as if every tear carried with it a piece of his shattered dream, a fragment of the life he had built around his love for racing. She held him tighter, her own tears falling silently as she pressed her lips to his temple, trying to convey through touch what words could not. She ignored the tension in her muscles as she sat in an uncomfortable way. It didn’t matter now. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of his weeping. She wished she could take his pain away, bear the burden for him, if only for a moment. But all she could do was be there, anchoring him in the storm that raged within him, holding him as he cried out the grief that had taken root in his soul.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, and slowly, painfully, his sobs began to subside, his body gradually relaxing in her arms. But the tears didn’t stop, and she knew that this was just the beginning—that the road ahead would be long and difficult, filled with moments like this one where the weight of his loss would threaten to crush him.

Logan shifted slightly, his head moving away from her shoulder, creating a small distance between them. His eyes, red and swollen, searched hers, a silent plea lingering in the depths of his gaze. As their eyes met, the vulnerability there was almost unbearable to witness. He blinked, and a few quiet tears slipped free, tracing slow paths down his cheeks. The sight of them, so small yet so heavy with meaning, sent a fresh wave of sorrow through Y/n’s chest.

Without thinking, she raised her hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair, the familiar motion meant to soothe, to comfort. Logan closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into it ever so slightly, as if that simple act could shield him from the harsh reality they were facing.

For a moment, they just sat there, the world outside their little bubble distant and irrelevant. The warmth of her hand in his hair, the soft rise and fall of their breaths, the silent exchange of emotions that words could never quite capture—it all felt like a fragile lifeline, something to hold onto as the storm continued to rage around them.

When Logan finally opened his eyes again, the tears still lingered, but there was something else there too—a glimmer of gratitude, of understanding. It was as if, in that small gesture, Y/n had reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this, that no matter how lost he felt, she would be there, steadfast and unwavering, ready to catch him whenever he stumbled.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, each word carrying the weight of his fear, his uncertainty.

“That’s okay,” she whispered. “You will figure it out.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and though the sadness in his eyes didn’t disappear, it seemed just a little less overwhelming, as if the burden had lightened, if only by a fraction. He nodded slowly, as if trying to absorb the truth of her words, to let them sink in deep enough to hold onto when the darkness returned.

Y/n leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting her lips linger there for a moment, a silent promise that she would be his anchor, his strength, whatever he needed her to be.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice tender, carrying the weight of everything she felt for him, everything she couldn’t put into words.

Logan’s eyes became blurry again, the tears welling up as the depth of her love, her unwavering support, threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel her lips press softly against his cheekbone, a gentle reminder of her presence, of her unwavering commitment to stand by him no matter how dark the days ahead might be.

He closed his eyes, letting the tears fall freely, but this time there was something different in them—something less rooted in despair and more in the profound sense of being loved, of not having to carry this burden alone. The sensation of her lips against his skin, her breath warm and steady, was an anchor in the storm, grounding him in the here and now, pulling him back from the abyss.

“I love you too,” he managed to whisper, his voice thick with emotion, his heart aching with both the pain of his loss and the overwhelming gratitude he felt for her. He turned his head slightly, just enough to press his own lips to her temple, a quiet gesture of thanks, of love, of everything he couldn’t find the words to express.

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