#that is fucking ridiculous and not what I said

[formulawolff]

“you taste sweeter” — m.v.

pairing -> social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count -> 3.3k (oopsies!)

warnings -> cussing, slight angst, mentions of hate comments online, desperate + needy max, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sweet moments, slight praise kink, tender max, yadayadayada

a/n -> the win in brazil today inspired me to write. it’s probably not my best work buttttt someone asked for a part ii to this fic here. i hope you guys enjoy! <3

"i'm sorry that this weekend has been a shit show."

lips press against your knuckles, carefully caressing them one by one.

"stop it," your hand darts out, cupping his cheek, "you're always so hard on yourself."

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you catch the hint of stars in his gaze as your eyes meet.

"i think i deserve to be a little harsh on myself. p17 is ridiculous."

you exhale, shaking your head slightly, "but you have to remember that was not your fault. you cannot control the weather, and you sure as hell cannot control what happens when the track is slick."

"i just feel terrible," he shrugs, folding his arms against his chest, "you flew all the way out here to just get drenched. you had to wake up with me at god knows what time to make it to the track. i'm supposed to be up in the fucking front and now i don't even feel like i have a chan-"

"stop it," your jaw clenches, "i wouldn't have flown out if i didn't want to be here. i wanted to be here and support you, max. there is nowhere else i would rather be than by your side."

the corners of his lips twitch into a meek smile, the dutch driver leaning in, "you're so fucking cute when you're all riled up."

"only because i hate to see you be so hard on yourself!" you protest, throwing your hands up in the air, "you are a generational talent. i wish you could see that."

"thank you baby," you can't help but notice that he's beaming now, "thank you, for being here."

"like i said," you murmur, your heart skipping a beat as you find the space between the two of you dissipating by the second, "there is nowhere else i would-"

"maxxxx! it's time for -- oh my god i am so sorry."

gianpiero's voice cuts through the space, the two of you shrinking back as he stands in the doorway the driver's room, a hand over his mouth.

"don't worry about it," max clears his throat, shooting you one more look before turning to gianpiero, "is it time?"

"it's time," max's race engineer confirms, checking his watch, "we need to get moving."

"all right," max sucks in a breath, rising to his feet, "i guess it's time."

you mirror his action, ensuring that you have your race day bag before shifting toward him. his arms wrap around your frame, bringing you in for a tight embrace.

for a moment, he's still, not moving a muscle as you bury your head into his chest. his fingers knead into your shoulder blades, strands of hushed dutch filling your ear. the words are tender, almost as if he was promising you something.

you weren't quite sure what, though.

"good luck out there tiger," you whisper, "i believe in you."

his arms pull away, the driver's lower lip trembling ever so slightly as he begins to follow gianpiero. before leaving the room, he ensures that gianpiero's back is turned, nearly bounding back toward you.

lips crash into yours, a hurried but passionate kiss. forceful enough to leave your knees buckling, yet laced with a sweetness that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"i love you."

heat flourishes into your cheeks as he departs, looking back over his shoulder one more time before jogging down the hall, in efforts to catch up with gianpiero.

your heart flutters, a coziness seeping into your chest as you catch your breath.

max was never one to let his emotions get in the way of race day. he was always so poised, so focused on what was ahead. he was never privy to publicly showcasing his affection to you either. especially on sundays.

it never bothered you, really. you knew the stakes involved. you knew how important this was to him. you were well aware of the way people spoke about him online and in the media. lately, it had been nothing but negative energy. not only from the press and commentary, but from the fans as well.

you never overstepped. you never teetered over the boundaries he set in place for race weekends. you always ensured to keep your affection away from the public eye.

so, to witness that desperation to kiss you one last time. to hear those three words before he left. to feel him against pressed against you, reluctant to let go.

to you, that was everything.

and as voices buzzed in the air, the tension nearly electric as members of the crew paced around the garage as the rain pounded against the tarmac, max verstappen could only think about one thing.

and that one thing, was you.

─── ��� ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

droplets of water scatter about, the team rushing toward the car as a shiver runs down your spine.

max slips out of the car, nearly tumbling as he makes his way to the ground. your limbs itch, from your fingers to your toes, nearly screaming to take a step forward.

to make your way toward him.

he's drenched, the color of his suit a few shades darker as he claws his helmet and balaclava off, running a hand through his hair. his eyes scan through the garage briefly, picking through the throng.

his brow is furrowed, lips wound tight together with concentration.

you know he's looking for you.

yet, you don't move.

there was too much to risk if you approached him. in the aftermath of colapinto's crash, a red flag was issued on the track. with max's current position behind ocon and the ability to change tyres, there was a new opportunity presented before him.

the opportunity to overtake ocon from p2 to p1, therefore maintaining the lead and potentially winning the grand prix.

however, there were other factors present.

with a fresh start, the other drivers were presented with the same opportunity. lando norris in the rocketship of the mclaren would also be able to overtake as well, potentially threatening max's chance of a win. and with the current conditions of the track, who knew what would happen in the final thirty laps.

there was so much to consider. so much to speculate. so much to lose.

and because of that, you knew you couldn't interfere.

you couldn't do that to him.

to max, winning meant everything.

and to risk throwing him off over a simple hello or you're doing great? you couldn't bear the weight of knowing you had something to do that. you couldn't be the reason he lost momentum.

so, you stayed put, now blending in with the crew as they returned back into the garage, max sailing off down the pit lane, back in the direction of the track.

yet, as the dutch driver clutches the wheel, his heart thumping against his chest, he could only focus on one thing.

that bright, beautiful smile plastered across your face the moment you saw his car rolling up toward the pit.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"come here!"

he practically barrels into you, sweeping you into his arms. tears stream down your cheeks, cries of joy bubbling up in your throat as he squeezes you.

"i-i love you," he sputters, "fuck i love you."

your head tilts back, lower lip quivering as you take him in.

his eyes are tinged pink, glossy as your fingertips trace along his jaw. there's a swarm coming any minute now, ready to hoist him up on their shoulders, jeering his name. in the grandstands, there's the dull roar of the crowd, chanting along with the crew. his suit is soaked through, leaving a wet imprint all over your clothes.

yet, there is nothing else that matters but him.

"i love you m-more, maxie," you sniffle, wiping away a tear, "y-you have no idea how fucking proud of you i am."

his mouth collides with yours, a heated, heavy kiss as the rain patters. your hand wraps around the base of his neck, tangling into his hair as his mouth opens, deepening the kiss. his tongue slides along your lip, seeking entry.

you're about to let him in before he breaks away, nearly panting. a crimson hue paints his cheeks, his chest heaving.

"fuck."

"what?" you press, your brow arching.

"nothing," he shakes his head, nearly bewildered as he studies you, "you just look beautiful. so fucking beautiful right now in the rain."

your own clothes are beginning to cling to your body, damp from the stormy morning. your makeup is still intact, but smudged slightly from the kiss and the humid atmosphere. he can sense your exhaustion, but your eyes are wide, nothing but adoration swimming in their depths. drops cling to your hair, glittering as you cock your head.

"you just won a race and you're worried about how beautiful i look?"

to max, there was no other word to describe you in this moment but ethereal. a stunning ray of golden, pure light as the clouds hung low in the sky.

not just any light.

his light.

at your sentiment, his gaze hardens, the dutch driver's jaw clenching as the pad of his thumb grazes your cheek.

"y-you have no fucking idea what you do to-"

"max!" a voice cuts in, nearly grating through all the noise, "what a hell of a race that was!"

you bite down on your tongue as christian horner comes into view, along with numerous members of the crew. max's eyes dart to you, but he's swiftly whisked away, the sensation of his warm hands merely a phantom.

however, your mind can't help but replay the kiss. the way his hands roamed, desperate to bring you in closer than you imagined possible. the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the two of you floating from the euphoria. the way you swore you could see stars gleaming in his stare as you cried, overwhelmed with pride.

pride for your man.

the man who managed to go from p17 to p1 in a single race. the man who made a statement.

the man who managed to pull off the impossible.

and he was yours.

all yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"you have no idea how much i've been looking forward to this."

sweats cling to his hips as he is snuggled against you, arms wrapped around your waist. his head rests on your chest, lashes fluttering as you run a hand through his hair. you're almost underneath him, his body nearly squishing you. but you don't mind, as you were savoring the minutes.

the final hours together before you would inevitably have to part ways, saying those goodbyes at the airport.

oh, how you dreaded that moment. more than anything.

you would have to return to work, and he would be halfway across the world, enjoying a brief break before the final few races.

at least you would have vegas together.

but that felt so fucking far away, especially with the race scheduled at the end of the month.

"what are you thinking about up there?"

max's voice is merely a whisper, catching you off guard. you flinch, his head lifting, swiveling so that you're forced to meet his concerned stare.

"nothing," you shrug, "nothing important."

"hmm," he hums, leaning in for a peck, "that's a lie. you're always thinking about something. important or not, i want to know what it is."

"i'm just thinking about tomorrow," you lower your head, careful to avoid eye contact, "i just had such a perfect weekend and-"

"it's not over yet," fingers grasp your chin, "we still have the night together."

"but we have to get up early and make sure i'm at the airport on time and-"

lips connect with yours, his body shifting so that he's on top, practically pinning you to the plush mattress. a whine rises in your throat at the fierceness of the kisses, the way they send a fiery sensation burning throughout as his tongue explores your mouth.

his mouth pulls away, drifting to your jaw. instinctively, your hips buck forward, brushing against his as places sloppy, wet kisses along your neck.

"don't worry about the morning," his mouth hovers by your ear, "just focus on me, okay?"

you nod, "o-okay."

"is this okay?" his brow furrows momentarily, "i don't want to make you feel-"

you lower a hand, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his sweats, "this is okay. i promise."

at your action, max's breath quickens, the driver finding it difficult to string the words together, "i-i just can't help myself around you. seeing you after my win today, looking so fucking beautiful in the rain. i couldn't fucking control myself."

"that kiss was very unlike you," a giggle rings through the space, "i almost thought i was dreaming."

"you weren't," the corners of his lips curl into a wide smile, dimples and all, "i was right there, kissing you, wishing i could just get down on one knee right then and there."

"m-max," you stammer, the temperature of the room almost skyrocketing, "y-you don't-"

"i do," his voice is firm, "i want to marry you. i knew i needed you, but seeing you there, just waiting for me, with that gorgeous grin across your face.. it made me realize that i wanted to see that smile for the rest of my life. we don't have to rush, but i want you to know what my intentions are.

i want you to be my wife, but i don't want you to feel like you have to abandon everything to be with me. i want you to still do what you love, and i want you to still make a difference in people's lives. just how you've made a difference in mine."

"i love you," your vision is blurred, your throat tight, "i-i love you so much m-max."

"my sensitive girl," he lets out a chuckle, carefully wiping away your tears, "i love my sensitive girl. more than she'll ever know."

"i'll be your wife one day."

"one day?" he cocks his head, "is that a yes?"

"yes," you affirm, "that is a yes."

"now this has truly been a day to remember."

"is that so?"

"yes," max responds. taking your hands, he raises them slightly, so that they're on either side of your head. intertwining your fingers together he continues, leaning in once more.

"i'm going to hold on to this memory for the rest of my life. i'm going to hold on to you for the rest of my life."

"there's nowhere else i would rather be," you whisper, "i mean that."

"oh i know," his mouth ghosts over yours, "you were so fucking ecstatic earlier. it was adorable."

"i was just happy for you," your lips form a pout, "you have to remember it's been a long time since i-"

he kisses you, this time a little more hungry than the last. as his tongue slips in, between your thighs, you feel your clit throb, desperate for his touch as he deepens the kiss, squeezing your hands. his hips grind against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"m-max," you nearly moan, "please."

"what?" he coos, "what is it baby?"

"i need you," the words are breathy, "i really need you."

"don't worry baby," a hand begins to drift lower and lower, savoring your heated skin along your stomach and abdomen, "i'll make sure you're taken care of."

"p-please," your head rolls back as his thumb meets your clit, dragging in slow, circular motions.

for a second, he's thrown off his game, completely and utterly bewildered at the stickiness coating his index finger as he plunges a finger deep inside.

"y-you're this wet for me? i've barely fucking touched you."

"like you said earlier," you grit your teeth, fighting a whimper as another finger slides in, your walls adjusting, "you have no idea what you do to me."

at that statement, max's jaw tightens, the lust that was merely a few flames now burning throughout, threatening to consume him whole.

fuck, was he going to ruin you.

his fingers pull out, hooking the hem of your own sweats, "i need this off of you. now."

sitting up, you kick off your pants, fumbling with your tank top in the process. your nipples are almost swollen, hardened from the brisk air. between your thighs, he can catch the glisten of your slick cunt, aching for him and only him.

in that moment, max nearly comes undone.

"let me taste you," the words are nearly a beg, "please baby, let me get a taste."

you nod, almost a little too enthusiastically, "please do."

he situates himself so that he's between your legs, his hands roaming your soft skin, spreading you open. he lowers his head, hands cupping your breasts as his tongue flattens against your weeping cunt. the tip of his nose brushes against your clit, earning a groan from you.

at that, a guttural noise rumbles in his throat, his fingers now gripping your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

there was no word that could describe the way you tasted.

the only thing that came close was heaven.

sweet, sweet, heaven that coated his tongue.

your back arches as obscene, filthy noises flood the room, hands in max's hair, tugging at the locks as his mouth envelops your clit, sucking lightly.

"that's it pretty girl," the words are ragged as you squirm, his lips shining in the dim light, "that's it."

"m-max," there's a feeling pooling in your abdomen, a feeling you knew all too well, "p-please."

"what?" his mouth curls into a smug smirk, "what is it pretty girl? you wanna cum?"

"yes. please."

"well since you asked so nicely," you're wound up tight now, merely seconds away from release, "i'll make you cum."

his mouth reconnects with your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as it dances. you writhe beneath him, stars bursting in your vision as you cum, bliss crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he pulls back, his cock twitching in his sweats, begging to be set free as he admires the way your chest heaves, your thighs almost trembling, overstimulated from the orgasm.

he wants to go back for seconds, lapping away until you're crying, pleading, begging for him to stop. if only you didn't have your early flight in the morning, then he would eat your pussy for hours, going all throughout the night.

"good girl," sliding off his sweats, his jaw nearly goes slack as your hand wraps around the base, pumping slowly, "good fucking girl."

as you jerk him off, two dingers dip inside, ensuring that their soaked before pulling out.

"here," he murmurs, pushing the digits against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth, "taste yourself."

as you take them in, tongue swirling along their length, the sweetness lacing your tongue, a groan tumble from his mouth.

"oh fuck."

"you like?" batting your lashes, you can't help but feel a grin form as he nods fervently, one hand gripping the heard board while the other rests on his shaft.

"victory tastes sweet, but fuck you taste sweeter. there's nothing like the way you taste and i'm addicted."

"is that such a bad thing?"

you nearly choke on a gasp as he pushes into you, stretching you out as his hips roll. he bites on his lower lip, fighting a smirk as your head hits the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure fills you to the brim.

"not at all," he's plowing into you now, "it's not a bad thing at all."

addicted was not even the word that described the way max craved you.

it was a hunger.

a hunger that would only be satisfied by your perfect, tight cunt.

and god, was max was going to savor the way you felt. the way you wrapped around him, practically begging him to go even further and further.

if only he could stay here, entwined with you. if only he could feel like this, forever.

however, vegas was quickly approaching.

and after that, who knew what the future would bring.

but for now, he was going to relish this moment.

tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life.

[dollarbils]

focused | j.o.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

context. your girlfriend’s been busy all day. all you’re craving is for her focus to be on you.

warnings. angst, smut, degrading words.

masterlist

she’d been glued to her laptop all day. consumed in this new script she’d received. of course you were excited for her, you’d seen the way her face lit up. but she’d been at it for hours, days.

“jenna, when are you going to give yourself a break, how long is this script?” she wasn’t fully listening, still engrossed by the letters on the white screen.

“hm?” she barely looked over at you, registering thad you’d said something, but nothing more.

“jenna please. i feel like i haven’t seen you in days even though we live together.” she seemed to have had picked up on your tone because this time she turned around, facing you.

“sorry, what did you say?” she asked you to repeat yourself for the second time.

“i miss you, love. it’s been ages since we’ve talked or spent time together.” she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“what do you mean? we see each other all day.” she chuckled, not taking the conversation seriously.

“i’m serious jenna, you’ve been glued to that screen for the past two days, i’ve barely heard your voice. it’s been keeping you up at night too.” instead of self reflecting, she went on the defensive immediately.

“that’s not true. i just really need to get this script looked over. i was told i could comment on anything id like to possibly get changed. do you understand how rare it is for an actor to get that opportunity?” she got up from the desk chair, waving her hands around as she yelled.

“no, of course i do. but that doesn’t mean you can’t at least take a break.” she rolled her eyes.

“i have taken breaks, it’s not my problem you’re so needy all the time.” the insult was misplaced and you felt embarrassed.

“i’m needy? jenna i haven’t had a conversation that’s lasted more than a minute in the last 48 hours. wanting more than that is not needy.” you couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled in, the fact that maybe you were too needy.

“oh my god, you’re so dramatic. just wait for me to finish and then i’m all yours.” her tone was condescending, and you soon found it ridiculous that you were fighting over this.

“it’s not only about me, you need a break too.” she didn’t seem to care.

“just give me five minutes.” you knew five minutes would turn into five hours but it didn’t matter anymore. and once five minutes had passed, you closed your eyes and drifted to sleep, no longer having the energy to fight her.

-

after some time, she came through the door, to find you sleeping. it’s not as if she’d wanted to upset you, but this script was really exciting to her. she hadn’t meant to ignore you.

“baby,” she shook you awake, not wanting to go to sleep without fixing this.

“jenna, i’m not in the mood.” she was slightly taken aback by your cold words.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” she sat upright on the bed, caressing your arm gently, coaxing you into forgiveness.

“please.” she repeated, and even without elaboration it was clear what she was asking for.

“okay.” you folded as the soft words left your lips. you pushed the covers back and let her take you in her arms. she kissed your forehead earning a sigh, as you relaxed in her warm embrace.

“what can i do to make it better?” she asked with genuine concern, however your response was a mischievous grin. she raised her eyebrows as she questioned the look you were giving her.

“i could use some head.” she laughed at your reply and kissing your smiling lips.

“i can arrange that.” she whispered in your ear, her hands burning the skin at your waist.

“my poor angel’s touch starved. tell me what you need, baby.” her voice was sick with power. she loved having you so desperately begging for her. although she did feel bad.

“fuck, jenna. i just need you to t-touch me.” her smile widened and she fumbled with your shorts, not planning on wasting any time with you.

“mm, can’t get off on your own huh? need my help.” she urged you to reply and when you didn’t she pulled your chin in order to face her.

“y-yeah, need you to help m-me.” her fingertips were brushing against your clothed clit, causing your words to break up in a stutter. she enjoyed how desperate you sounded beneath her touch, her words rendering you more and more flustered.

“so pathetic aren’t you.” her words were harsh because she knew it turned you on. you were nodding without realising what you were agreeing to, too focused on the filthy words leaving her mouth to ponder on their meaning. she chuckled into your neck, her warm tongue soothing the bruises she’d created.

“jen-jenna, please.” her hands pulled down your panties before she began to play with your wetness, spreading it around and earning choked whines from your throat.

“hm, who are you so wet for baby?” she teased but you didn’t have the strength to reply as she lowered her head between your thighs. her tongue laid flat against your clit, tasting your arousal while her fingers toyed with your entrance.

“f-fuck.” instinctively, your thighs shut around her head, making her hiss.

“open wide for me.” she instructed, looking up to see you fisting the sheets with your head thrown back. however when you had relaxed, you’d managed to comply with her request.

“that’s it.” she affirmed, her mouth latching onto your heat once again. you were soon returned to your previous state, your mouth an exit for all sorts of pornographic noises. you physically couldn’t keep quiet. and when you began grinding against her tongue, she groaned into you, the pleasure of devouring you finally expressed.

“oh my god, jenna please- please keep going.” she smirked into your pussy, flicking her tongue over your clit, and darting it in and out of your entrance. it felt so good. she was too good.

“fuck, jenna. so close, can i-i.” your eyes were shut as the pleasure built up, so close to your release.

“mhm.” she nodded, her face still buried in your arousal, bringing you to the edge and helping you ride it out once that chord has snapped. you felt yourself grow warm as the pleasure consumed you, clenching around her tongue. she came up to kiss you, her tongue sure to penetrate your lips so that you could taste yourself.

“am i forgiven?” she smiled and you couldn’t help shoving her playfully at the look she was giving you.

“yeah, i’d say so.”

[rsventhesecondd]

headcannons, nnn !┆part two

╰ • → Featuring . Hayato Suo as your FUBU  ! ╯

☁️┆ ⤿ request by  @anon 👻 ༺  ╰ ღ WBK :  requests open  ╯🦢

HAYATO SUO as your fubu — head cannons ! •

warnings . contains nsfw , fluff , all characters used are aged up to 18 , f!reader + not proof read yet . note . some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't my first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes.  ๑❛ᴗ❛๑ authors note . this is slightly rushed since I had to do something in the midst of editing this draft , but nevertheless— please enjoy reading !

fubu!hayato , who fucks you in the most ridiculous places. Behind a random dark alleyway , inside a bathroom during a party your friend hosted , and everywhere else you could think of.

" W-Wait, what the hell Hayato! We're gonna get caugh— " He cuts you off with a kiss. "Don't worry [name-chan] , nobody really goes here. Atleast for now" Suo assures with his signature smile, a small glint forming in his eye.

fubu!hayato , who knows your body more than you do. He knows which buttons to press , that spot that makes your head turn back from the pleasure, how you act when you're close, – eyes rolling back. He's fully confident that he's probably ruined your future experiences— well if you'll have one other than him.

"What about here? How does it feel?" He questions grazing a a specific spot, causing you to turn your head back– a moan in response. "Do tell me, pretty girl. Remember, close mouths don't get fed" He added, curling up his fingers in the process.

fubu!hayato , who's such a sadist, getting turned on by your humiliation, begging him to fuck you raw— your whimpers when he angles his hips to reach that spot, or when you call out his first name. You're just too adorable for him, how could he refrain from teasing such cute girl like you?

"The ropes aren't too tight, is it [name-chan]?" He asks in a slightly worried tone. He wouldn't want to hurt his precious doll too much. " No-no.. , " You said, quickly shaking your head. —" hurry up. hurry up. " "Oh? Aren't you a needy one." He teased, gliding his fingers from your clit to your entrance. "Look [name-chan] , I've barely touched you, and you're already so wet." He says with the same tone, slightly laced with an amused one.

fubu!hayato , whos has such a pretty cock— slightly above average ( or not ) , 7 inches long , 7.62 inches when hard. 3.47 inches wide, trimmed , circumcised , curved lightly to the left– and he uses that as an advantage to hit all the right spots. His pretty flushed tip is #EOA6b9 pink, shaft is a creamy #E4D5B4 beige. 2 distinct veins with the longest ranging from the base to the tip on the middle right side, he's sensitive the most there. Excretion is macaroon cream, and when he does, he lets out a soft groan.

" Have you ever thought about how you have such a pretty cock? " You said, tracing around his veins as he shivers, his lips tugging into a grin. "How.. bold of you [name-chan] , " He mutters out out with a groan; amused by your words, almost.. flustered? "I've never really thought about it.. like.. that"

fubu!hayato , who isn't really much of a head pusher or throat fucker, letting you do as you please. And when your tongue glides over his sensitive tip to his veins, he simply just pushes his head back. He really isn't a type of person to curse out so openly, even under a lot of pleasure; but when he gets too stimulated, he let out a sound that is in between a groan and whimper, caressing your hair ever-so slightly.

"Mm— you're doing so good, [name-chan]" He says, letting out a breathy exhale as you kitty lick his tip.

He's so sensitive, but it takes more than just a few minutes to make him cum.

fubu!hayato , who just loves tasting you all over— trailing kisses everywhere. Your neck, shoulder, spinal cord, from your abdomen to your inner thighs, whilst leaving a few marks in the process, letting out a loud pop as he takes his lips off your bruised skin — he just can't get enough of you!

"Ah, I can't seem to get enough of you, [name-chan] , " He says, placing your index and pointing finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. "You're just.. too addictive; even for me" He says against your ears, licking your earlobe.

fubu!hayato , who always leaves fights unscathed. He seems to be the type of person who dislikes being scathed, but when it comes to you leaving both love and bite marks all around his skin, fingernails scratching his back as he rams in your pent up hole— he isn't complaining. Instead, he encourages you to make more.

"Remember to breath. If it ever gets too stimulating, just bite down as hard as you can." He whispers in your ear, shoulders close to your mouth. "W-Wouldn't it leave marks? I thought you didn't like being scathed–" You said, breathless. "Hm, I don't. But when it comes to you, I'd rather you add more." He retorted. If someone does indeed see him without his Quipao, those subtle scratches all over his back— bruised neck and shoulders.. then, he'll just make up some sort of excuse.

sincerely, raven ! — requested by anon 👻 ╯

[alwaysthefool]

Orbiter of Bad Days (x Rafayel)

Synopsis: Rafayel accidentally puts you on the spot by asking you his views on his art

Warnings: OOC MC in the sense they’re a bit mean here, feelings of embarrassment, you had a bad day

Tags: angst, comfort, GN Reader, MC/Reader x Rafayel

It hadn’t been a good day. You had been yelled at by a random person complaining to the Hunter’s Association about a different hunter causing damage to surrounding properties while doing his duties. The government would compensate for it anyway, so why did you have to listen to that? After that, you tripped on the pavement, and were scolded by a passerby, who wasn’t even affected, for carelessness. To make matters worse, you had to attend Rafayel’s art exhibit in the evening as his bodyguard. You wanted to bail, but Thomas got to you first with a text.

“We need you here, there’s already many vicious reporters not on the guest list.”

That was just your luck. You quickly changed to a suit, befitting a bodyguard, instead of dressing fancy like you usually would when you went to these places with Rafayel. After all, you were employed by him, right?

You took a bus to the event this time, worrying that driving would end up in you getting yelled at by someone again, and surprisingly nothing went wrong on your way to the gallery, making you think perhaps your bad luck streak had ended.

You quickly met Thomas, who too frowned at your attire, but then shrugged. “Just… make sure they don’t reach him, okay?” He said, referring to the infamous reporters known to trick people into saying incriminating things. You wanted to ask if you could just kick them out, but they’d probably make a big deal about that too.

You couldn’t really see Rafayel anywhere, and you forgot to charge your phone so you couldn’t text him. I guess he’s getting ready for the event.

You sighed, seeing the hall fill up as Rafayel’s paintings were displayed in beautiful 3D layers by a projector on the stage. The reporters were impressed, capturing the scenes, and the famous guests that attended.

“But he’s a little late, isn’t he?” One of them spoke a little too loudly, making heads turn.

“He’ll be here any minute.” You replied, not even sure if that was true.

And that was when you became the target of the night for those two, a camera and mic shoved into your exhausted face.

“You’re his bodyguard, aren’t you?” The reporter’s smile was venomously sweet, but not exactly fake. He was happy to have caught such a prey.

“I… yeah.” You tried, and failed, to sound confident. I’m sorry, Rafayel. You thought, knowing you’d fall in whatever trap they set for you. Whatever though, you had been the villain for many people today, what was wrong with one more?

“So, what do you think about his art?”

“I don’t think my opinion matters here.”

“Actually, it does.” A familiar voice spoke. There he was, in a blue suit, walking towards you, turning all heads towards you.

You didn’t know what to say. The hall was filled with art graduates, people from foreign countries, geniuses, and him. How could you say anything that mattered more than what they were thinking?

“I think it’s aesthetically pleasing.” You murmured. People in the crowd hummed in agreement, and you wished Rafayel would just leave it at that.

“Is that all?” He inquired. You looked up at him, his eyes piercing your face.

Rafayel, I feel embarrassed. Please just shut the fuck up.

Maybe he sensed that, how could he not? He was excellent at knowing what you felt, but he didn’t say anything, as if he really wanted to hear what you had to say.

Fine, then.

“I also think… it’s ridiculous.” You weren’t really talking about the paintings. “You critique the ignorance of elites in society, but it’s funny because you’re being cruel right now.”

Rafayel’s face turned into one of concern immediately, and he tried to speak, but you continued. “Did you get tomorrow’s headlines, guys? Did you have fun, Raf?”

You wanted to take everything you said to him immediately. You were lashing out at the wrong man. Before anyone could see the tears that filled your eyes, you murmured an apology and ran backstage. This was probably the worst day of- well, just the month, and it was only the 3rd. You found a stair to sit on, behind the projector room, and cried with your knees folded. You were embarrassed. You made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. You ruined Rafayel’s day. You-

“There you are.” You didn’t know when he came to sit beside you, but he was kind in a way you felt you didn’t deserve.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke in a cracked voice, holding your knees closer to yourself.

“What do you have to apologise for?” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him try to reach out for you, but then keep his hand to himself. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.”

“Yeah, no, you shouldn’t have.” You admitted, looking up at him with a tear stained face. “But it still didn’t make it okay for me to be rude about your art.”

You wiped your face with your sleeve, turning towards him. He had a neutral expression but there was a much deeper sadness in his eyes. He once told you that eyes don’t lie, and as long as your eyes are visible, you’d always be able to catch someone in one.

He was hurt, deeply.

“I didn’t mean it, you know. I was… I just don’t know why you’d ask me that in front of people you know would make fun of how uneducated I am.”

“No, you’re not-“ Rafayel wasn’t sure what to say. “Does it matter what they think? I think your opinion is the most important, and in this entire gallery, you’re the only one who matters to me.”

“Bet you say that to everyone you’ve been with.” You teased, and he hoped you didn’t see his red ears. He was grateful you weren’t taking him seriously, because would his words even make sense to you, who remembered nothing? But yes, he did only say that to everyone he’d been with, which was you, you, and always you.

“What other people think matters to me.” Your tone was soft, with hints of bitterness. “You wouldn’t understand, because you’re different. You think differently than I do. I… live on earth, and you live someplace I can’t reach. I see glimpses of it when we’re alone, I feel it through your art, but when I’m around people, I feel their words, their judgment, their voices, and I’m back on the ground. I start feeling small, and sometimes, I become someone you wouldn’t like.”

“Hey.” He pulled you closer, resting his head in your shoulder. “There isn’t one version of you I wouldn’t like. I like it when you get angry, and I like your ugly side. I like it when you lash out because you had a bad day, and I like all your little thoughts.”

“I like you too.” You rested your own head on his.

He smiled, his heart going several miles in a minute. He held your hand in his, tracing the shape of a fish with a heart tail. “Are we in my world right now?” He asked, not caring about the event.

“Yeah. And there’s no place I’d rather be.”

-x-

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another instalment of the tik tok mat series! featuring liana! this was another suggestion from an anon and i just love writing these three and their dynamic so this was fun - i hope you guys enjoy 😊

word count: 3.2k

tw: nothing but good clean fun

summary: during a visit, you and liana convince mat to join you in another tik tok video, with a twist

“What are you two plotting?” Mat’s sudden appearance in the kitchen startles you and you jump a little. Next to you, Liana yelps and smacks her knee against the cabinet.

“Ow, fuck,” she mutters, reaching down to rub at the spot that’ll definitely be bruised tomorrow. She scowls at Mat, which he ignores.

“Jesus,” you sigh, closing your eyes briefly while your heartbeat gets back to normal. “We’re not plotting.” Your tone is slightly petulant.

Mat comes up behind you and slots himself at your back, arms on either side of you caging your body against the kitchen island. He kisses the back of your neck and play humps your ass.

Liana fake gags, sticking her index finger in her mouth. “You’re disgusting. And what she said. Plotting makes it sound so nefarious, we’re just planning something,” she kicks at Mat’s socked foot with her own and he kicks back.

“Plotting, planning. Same difference when it comes to you two,” Mat retorts, keeping his chest pressed to your back when he leans in to grab a tortilla chip out of the open bag on the counter and swipe it through the bowl of guac in front of you. He chomps noisily on the chip, right in your ear, and you reach back to swat at his stomach. Mat takes a small step back so he’s not as loud in your ear.

“Don’t get guac on me,” you complain a little, trying to wiggle out of Mat’s embrace. All it serves to do is get your ass pressed against his crotch. Mat laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back against him.

He presses a kiss behind your ear and mutters quietly, “say the word and I’ll kick Li out right now.”

Your laugh is overshowdowed by Liana’s outraged cry of, “I can hear you, dumbass! I’m standing right next to you!”

“In the kitchen that I own,” Mat shoots back, still hugging you.

Before they start bickering even more and derail yours and Liana’s plans, you hold up your hands and shoot a wide-eye, raised eyebrows look at your boyfriend’s sister. “How about we don’t turn a lovely visit into a Barzal brawl?” You say, tone placating.

Liana immediately relaxes, her lips tipping up in a half-smile. Mat’s arm loosens around your shoulders and you lean easily against his chest.

“Yeah, okay,” they both mutter at the same time and you can’t help but laugh at the identical tone and inflection.

Mat’s hips work lazily against your ass and you know it’s a subconscious movement, a tic that he can’t help when he’s pressed close to you. It used to be insanely distracting, but you’re so used to it by now, you barely even notice anymore.

“Why don’t you join us for a Tik Tok?” You ask Mat, leaning your head back against his shoulder to look up at him. “Liana and I have like a whole bunch of videos we want to make while she’s here.”

It’s a partially true statement. You do have a couple of videos that would be fun to make with her while she’s visiting for a long weekend, but conning Mat into a video is the main plan.

“Your videos always do the best when I join,” Mat brags in an overly smug tone. He kisses your forehead and you know he’s teasing. But again, another partially true statement. You had a solid social media following, but once you started dating Mat, your follower count exploded and the videos that he pops up in are the ones that get shared the most. Especially on Twitter and the random fan cams you stumble on while you scroll.

Liana scoffs. “God, the ego on you is ridiculous,” she tosses a grape at Mat’s head. He catches it and pops it into his mouth, grinning.

“I could boost your following too, Li,” he offers. “I know you get a bump when I appear. It’s my natural charm and charisma.”

Both you and Liana burst out laughing, drowning out Mat’s offended protests. He complains that you’re being mean to him and you turn in his arms to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, tasting salt from the tortilla chip and cilantro from the guac. “Shush,” you tease, “we’re keeping you humble.”

He scowls at you, nose wrinkling, and you press your lips together to smother a smile because he’s adorable when he’s annoyed.

“If you’re mean to me, I’m leaving the video,” he warns finally. You know he doesn’t mean it, Mat loves being part of yours and Liana’s business too much.

“If you two are done playing grab ass,” Liana interrupts, sure enough, Mat’s hands are gripping your ass cheeks like his life depends on it. “Can we get filming before we have to get changed for dinner?”

You slip away from Mat with a giggle and grab your coffee mug off the counter, your phone in your other hand. Mat grabs the Tostitos and the guac and follows you both to the couch. He plops down, spreading his knees wide, in the middle of the couch with his snack resting on his thigh.

“So what did I actually agree to do?” He asks while you and Liana each take a seat on the floor in front of the couch. You prop your phone up against a pair of coffee table books and the plastic case for NHL 24.

Liana starts to explain, “basically, we’re giving you questions and you have to pick which of us it applies to. Like, you know stuff out of a high school yearbook or whatever.”

“It’ll make sense when we start,” you pipe up, opening Tik Tok. You make Mat shift a few inches to the right so all three of you are in the frame and ask, “ready?”

The siblings nod and Mat digs into the chip bag, just as you’re starting to speak. Liana rolls her eyes at him.

“Hey guys,” you lean in towards the camera, “we’ve got a house guest for a long weekend, I think you’re familiar with her?”

Liana waves at the camera, smiling. “Hey! We figured since this is the first time I���ve been in the same country as big bro since the summer, we should mark the occasion with a Tik Tok.”

“I’m here under duress,” Mat snarks, giving the camera a big, cheesy grin. “And the snacks,” he lifts the bowl of guac. “A Squeaks specialty.”

“Perfect segue to the game,” Liana chirps, pulling out her phone and tapping open the Notes app. “We’re going to ask Mat questions and he has to pick which one of us it applies to. So, first we’ll go with who’s the better cook?”

Mat scrunches his face up in thought for a few seconds before wiggling his hand back and forth in the air. “Toss up,” he says. “Depending on what food it is.”

“Nope, not a valid answer,” Liana shakes her head. “Remember who cooks for you all the time at home.”

“I mean, I cook for him all the time down here,” you pipe up, feigning nonchalance.

Mat jabs his index finger at you, “exactly. Plus, no offense, Li, but your recipes are pretty basic. Squeaks likes to experiment.” He waggles his eyebrows and you reach back to pinch his ankle. He yelps and kicks lightly at your thigh with his socked foot. “Rude.”

“Cooperate, Mat!” You sigh.

“Next question,” Liana taps again at her phone, “who’s funnier?”

Mat hovers his hand over your head and you smile. “Squeaks, for sure,” he nods decisively.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Sarcasm isn’t actually being funny, just so you know,” she comments idly.

“If it makes me laugh, then yeah it is,” Mat retorts, crunching into a chip to punctuate his sentence. He pokes at your thigh with his foot again, affectionate this time, and you wrap a hand around his ankle.

You reach out and, out of Mat’s view, tap on Liana’s thigh, subtly widening your eyes at her. She grins back and tips her chin in a slight nod.

“How about, who’s the better dancer?” You ask, leaning over to read off of Liana’s phone.

Mat shifts his hand to hold it over Liana’s head with a laugh. “I love you, baby, but you’ve got all the rhythm of a middle aged dad,” he teases. “Li clears this one.”

You wrinkle your nose and cut your eyes to Liana, murmuring, “I don’t know. Shaking your ass isn’t really dancing, is it?”

“At least I can shake my ass on beat,” Liana shoots back quickly.

On the screen, you can see Mat frown before sticking a guac covered chip into his mouth. His eyes flicker between you and Liana and you can see him thinking before deciding not to say anything. You roll your lips together to avoid laughing. You and Liana are definitely going to have to take it up a notch.

“Best style?” Liana asks and continues before Mat can answer, “oh, obviously me. No question.”

Mat looks down at her, eyebrows drawing together over his nose. “Since when? You’re always in comfy clothes, sweats, that shit.” He gestures down at Liana who’s wearing a cream lounge pants and sweater set that more or less matches your own.

“Maybe when I’m hanging out with you in the house,” Liana hits his other leg. “But my street style is way better, she dresses so Long Island.”

“Long Island fashion is so much better than anything to come out of Canada,” you retort with an eye roll. “Mat clearly made the right choice.”

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that he like when you dress all skimpy and slutty,” she shoots you an insincere smile and the couch shifts when Mat sits up straight.

“Hey, whoa, Liana that’s not cool,” Mat snaps, shaking his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You turn your head away from Mat to hide the smile that threatens at your lips. Liana waves a hand at her brother, “oh my god, nothing. It’s true though, you like the way she dresses.”

“Yeah, but she’s not a slut,” Mat’s getting annoyed and it’s sweet, how quick he is to defend you.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you draw attention back to you. “Let’s do another. Who’s smarter?”

Mat squints at you and leans back into the couch, crunching the bag of chips behind his back. “Oh shit,” he mutters, yanking it out and getting crumbs everywhere. You exhale a laugh through your nose - vacuuming before going out for dinner isn’t entirely unusual with Mat’s eating on the couch habits.

“Um, both of you?” He replies to the question. “Like Li is street smart, but you’re book smart. Y’know?”

“Oh my god,” Liana shakes her head. “Are you calling me stupid? You think she’s smarter than me?” She jabs her thumb at you and you frown at Mat.

“Seriously? Like you think I’m not street smart? You could drop me anywhere and I’d find my way home,” you protest, pretending to get heated.

“Please, she’s not even book smart either,” Liana says. “You know she thinks blood is just floating around in the body!”

You burst out a little laugh. That one is actually true, you’d had a “blonde moment” and said something to Liana to the effect of it being weird that blood and organs are just floating around inside your body. She’d stared at you for a solid five minutes with her mouth open at your stupidity, while you immediately realized your mistake and tried to backtrack that you knew veins and arteries exist.

Mat raises his eyebrows at you and his mouth drops a little. “Wait, seriously?” He asks. “You really think that?”

“No!” You yelp, waving your hands in the air. “Like for a second, but I’m not that dumb.”

Liana scoffs under her breath and you cut your gaze at her to see her hand come up and cover her mouth, hiding a wide smile.

“Maybe I should take it back,” Mat laughs, poking at your side with his foot. “Yeah, I’m changing my answer, Liana’s smarter.”

“Rude,” you laugh, unable to actually be offended by Mat’s switch-up. If he had said something as stupid, you would’ve made fun of him until the end of time.

Liana asks the next question - “Who’s more popular on Tik Tok?” - and Mat waffles until he eventually decides that the answer is “whoever features me the most.”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re never on mine,” Liana comments idly. “I don’t need the exposure.”

Mat squints at her, leaning forward so he’s almost bent in half. “Literally what is going on with you?” He flicks the back of her head and she swats at him. “You’re being so weird.”

“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird,” Liana shoots back.

“I never heard you talk to her like that,” Mat grumbles, jerking his thumb in your direction. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

“No bug,” Liana shrugs. “Just calling them like I see them.”

You lean against the couch and watch Mat’s face twist into a skeptical frown. He kicks the side of Liana’s thigh and says firmly, “be nicer. Whatever’s happening here needs to cool off.”

He’s being fairly calm, so maybe the trick won’t actually work. You tap on Mat’s calf, momentarily distracted by the thick cords of muscle, and say, “one more, and then I think we need to start getting ready.”

Mat reaches down and scratches the tips of his fingers against your scalp, making you lean into his touch like a cat, a slow smile taking over your face. With your cheek pressed against his knee, you look over at Liana, who’s rolling her eyes even as she has a faint smile on her face at your antics.

“Okay,” she grins, “if we were all in a sinking ship and you could only save yourself and one of us, who would it be?”

Without hesitating, Mat immediately says, “Squeaks.” There’s a healthy amount of “duh” in his tone and you can’t help but smile, warmed down to your core at Mat’s quick response.

Until Liana does her job and riles him up.

“Seriously?” She scoffs a laugh. “No hesitation, you’d pick some girl you haven’t even known a year over your own sister? Wow.”

You bite at your lower lip to hide a smile and Mat shoots forward again, jostling you.

“Liana, jesus fuck. What is wrong with you?” He snaps. “You’re being a fucking bitch. You know she’s not ‘some girl’ and you need to apologize. Now.”

He’s scowling at her, legs tensed. You don’t usually see Mat angry off the ice, but now he’s angry on your behalf and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t hot. Absolutely worth the prank to get him worked up like this.

Liana giggles and shakes her head. “Oooh, you should see your face,” she giggles again.

“I’m dead serious, Liana,” Mat shakes his head. “You’re not fucking funny and I’m not going to sit her and let you be rude.”

You start giggling now and reach out for Mat’s hand. “Hey, babe, Mat. Seriously, it’s okay,” you say and Mat squints at you, frowning.

“No, it’s not fucking okay. I thought you two got along. I thought you were friends and now Liana’s over here being rude as hell,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to let you stay here and be nasty, Li.”

Liana catches your eye and the laughter is contagious. Soon enough, the two of you are cracking up, gasping for air. Mat’s confused, you can tell, because he’s spluttering and shaking both of your shoulders with his hands.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” He mutters, reaching down and dragging you up onto his lap. You laugh and protest, wiggling to sit on the couch with your legs draped over his thighs.

“It’s a Tik Tok trend,” you explain, waving at your phone with one hand and wrapping the other around the back of Mat’s neck. Liana leans forward and stops the video on your phone. It was getting too long anyway and no one needs to see you explain the whole thing to Mat.

Liana pipes up, “I can’t believe you’d really think I hate her. I like her more than I like you.”

Mat’s eyebrows scrunch together and you can see the wheels turning in his brain. It clicks all of a sudden and Mat’s mouth falls open, outraged shock written all over his features. “I knew it!” He yelps, grabbing a throw pillow and whacking Liana on the shoulder. She falls over, laughter gasping out of her. Mat smacks her with the pillow again and Liana kicks out at him, glancing the coffee table and yelping in pain.

“I knew you two were plotting!” He laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you pinned to his side. Your stomach hurts from laughing and trying to wriggle away. “Fucking menaces, I’m not saving either one of you. You can both drown.”

“No!” Your laugh mixes with Liana’s and Mat’s, the three of you landing in a pile on the floor as Mat continues to whack at both of you with the pillow. Liana kicks at Mat’s shin, fighting him when he rubs his knuckles on the top of her head in a noogie.

“Stop, stop, mercy!” Liana gasps, wheezing. Mat rolls his eyes, but stops, breathing hard when he sits up, keeping you locked securely on his lap. You press your forehead against his shoulder, panting. Mat’s hands are warm on your back and then they slide down, his palm smacking against your ass in a spank.

You yelp and jump in his arms, nearly cracking the side of his jaw with your head. “What was that for?” You grumble, reaching back to rub at the sore spot.

Mat grins wickedly at you. “For being a brat,” he replies simply. He points at Liana, sprawled like a starfish on the floor, and says, “you’re on coffee duty for the rest of your time here. And I want the fancy shit from For Five, not the homemade stuff.”

Liana whines. “No way, this was a clean prank,” she counters, kicking at Mat’s side and missing. “You agreed to be in the video.”

“Last time I do that,” Mat mutters, but he’s laughing under his breath and he presses a kiss to your forehead, so you know he doesn’t mean it. “You two are so fucking annoying.”

“But who would you say is more annoying?” You can’t help but ask, a cheeky smile on your face.

Mat groans and Liana lifts her hand for you to slap. You lean over in Mat’s lap to smack her hand and nearly fall over in the process. Mat’s fingers wrap around your thigh and keep you in place.

“No more Tik Tok,” he vows when you’re settled again, perched happily on his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

Liana pipes up from the floor before you have a chance, “okay, and not that i’m supporting you two being disgusting, so please wait until I go home, but what about that trend where the wife’s cooking naked when her husband gets home?”

You bite your tongue to hide a giggle and Mat’s head cocks, thinking. His fingers flex against your thighs. You loop your arms around his neck and trace your fingertips over the back of his neck. His forehead relaxes and you can feel his cock twitch with interest under your ass.

Eventually, he says, “okay, I’ll allow my participation in one more video.”

“That’s what I thought,” Liana mumbles. “Freaks.”

[redocity]

hello, i was wondering if you could do a smut about buck?

Maybe have it where reader has been feeling really insecure lately and buck is like “i’ll fuck you until i hear that you believe it yourself” like he wants her to know that he thinks she beautiful and he wants her to see it

if you can’t that’s totally fine ❤️

PUZZLE PIECES — E.BUCKLEY

you are buck’s person, and he’ll be damned if you doubt that for even a second.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 2.9k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | 18+ MDNI, reader is insecure about herself and her relationship with buck, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv, a lot of whining and general begging, creampie, couch sex

a/n — “i’ll put this in my drafts and upload it after work” she said, *proceeds to forget it exists for four days*

sorry about the wait 😭

The thought had crept in slowly, quiet at first, but lately, it seemed to be everywhere. You would be sitting on the couch, watching Buck’s profile as he talked about his day with that familiar smile and bright eyes, and it would be there, the nagging voice that whispered, He deserves better.

At first, you brushed it off, but each time he did something thoughtful or made you laugh, the voice grew a little louder.

Buck was… everything.

He was kind and funny, dependable and brave, always there for anyone who needed him. And in your quieter moments, you’d find yourself questioning whether you could really be what he needed.

What did you have to offer someone like him?

He seemed to pick up on your change in mood quickly. A few times, you’d caught him watching you, brow furrowed, as though he could see right through you. You’d just smile, trying to reassure him that everything was fine, but he knew better.

Buck was perceptive in a way that sometimes made you feel as though he could see things about you that even you didn’t know.

One evening, as you were lost in thought, he suddenly plopped down beside you on the couch, sliding in close. “Alright, talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You blinked, startled. “About what?”

His hand found yours, fingers warm and steady as he held onto you. “About what’s got you looking like that,” he replied, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin. “You’ve been so quiet lately. And it’s not like you. Something’s wrong.”

You swallowed, your gaze falling to your lap as you tried to find the words. “It’s… nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” he asked softly, still watching you, but you could hear the worry in his voice. “Babe, come on. We both know that’s not true.”

The truth tumbled out in bits and pieces, a little awkward and halting. You told him about the doubts that had been haunting you, how you’d started feeling like maybe he’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give him more, be more. You didn’t even dare look at him while you spoke, afraid of what you might see on his face.

There was a long silence after you finished, and your heart pounded with nerves. You expected him to try to reassure you, to brush it off or tell you not to worry. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, filled with an unshakeable certainty.

“I mean this with all the love in the world,” he started, and when you glanced up, he was gazing at you with a look so fierce it almost took your breath away. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

The incredulity in his voice caught you off guard. “Buck…”

“Hey.” He cupped your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t look anywhere but into those intense, unwavering blue eyes. “There’s no one on this earth who’s better for me than you. No one.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, slow and deliberate. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

You felt your throat tighten, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you know by now? I was made for you.” His voice trailed off with a kiss against your lips, soft and gentle, as though he were trying to convey what words couldn’t. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

And he wasn’t done, it seemed. He took your hands, held them to his chest as he pressed little kisses on each of your fingers, down to your palms, his lips gentle and warm against your skin. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, his hand covering yours over his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your fingers. “That’s yours. Always has been.”

His touch drifted from your hands up to your face as he kissed you again, brushing his lips across your forehead, your cheeks, even the bridge of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, a wordless way of saying everything you hadn’t been able to believe.

You tried to speak, but he stopped you with a gentle shush, moving his kisses down the column of your neck to your shoulder, as if every inch of you was something sacred that he wanted to worship.

“I’m not stopping until you believe me,” he murmured against your skin, his hands steady and sure as he wrapped them around you. “I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always.”

“I’m a mess,” you murmured as his lips worked to create a path of fire down your collarbone and along the swell of your breast, teasing the hemline of your v-neck with his lips. “I’m—”

“Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as his mouth found the valley between your breasts and the sensitive skin of your chest. “You’re perfect for me.”

You shivered under his touch and a gasp broke free from your lips as he moved back up to your mouth, capturing it in another kiss.

He pulled away for a moment to look you in the eye, his breathing as ragged as yours, his gaze full of pure, honest desire. “You’re it for me,” he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “There’s no one else I want. Just you. Only you.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he pressed his thumb to your lips, cutting off your words. “Don’t fight me on this,” he murmured. “Let me show you how perfect you are for me.”

With that, he crashed his lips to yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he encouraged you back against the couch. His hands were everywhere, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pushed your shirt up, his palms hot against your bare skin.

You arched into him, your body desperate for his touch, your hands seeking purchase on his arms.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over your head, his hands immediately returning to explore your newly exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down the valley between your breasts and along your stomach. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You shivered under his touch, your breath catching in your throat, every nerve in your body on fire. “Buck…” you gasped, the word more of a plea than anything else. “Please… I need…”

Buck’s eyes darkened slight with desire, his fingers hooking into the waist of your sweatpants and pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, baring you to him completely. “I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth trailing kisses down your hip and inner thigh. “I’m going to give you everything you need, baby. Just trust me.”

He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider for him. A thrill of anticipation shot through you as his breath ghosted over your core, his lips following the path his breath had taken. “Beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a low, reverential murmur against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me,”

He ran his tongue tentatively along the length of your slit, drawing a shudder from you, his hands gripping your thighs tight as he teased you, taking his time to lavish attention on every inch of you. You arched against him, your hips rolling, seeking more of his touch. “Please,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. "Please, Buck…”

Buck’s grip on your thighs tightened at your words, a low grumble rumbling in his throat. “Not yet, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not done showing you how perfect you are.” He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. "Relax. Let me show you.”

With that, he licked a long, slow stripe up through your folds, his tongue flicking against your clit briefly before moving back down, drawing another shudder from you. He repeated the motion, over and over, his tongue working with purpose to show you how deeply he was lost in you, in the feel of you, the taste of you.

Every touch of his tongue was a jolt of pleasure, your nails digging into his scalp as you arched against him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Buck—” you gasped, your thighs quivering under his grip. “Please, I can’t—”

Buck pulled away, his chin glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You can,” he said, his voice a low, raspy rumble. “You will. Just a little longer, baby.” He teased a finger into your entrance, and your breath caught in your throat again. “I just need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

He moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a bruising kiss, his body pressing you down into the couch. You could feel the hard length of him, still trapped in his jeans, and you rocked against him, desperate for more. “Buck, please,” you gasped. “I need you, please…”

“Soon, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against yours, just enough to make you gasp again. “Soon. I promise.”

He reached between your bodies, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing them down his hips just enough to free himself, the hot length of him resting against your thigh as he kissed you again. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverential murmur. “So perfect for me.”

His hands gripped your hips, angling them up to meet him, and he began to press into you, slowly, inch by inch.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensations, the stretch of him filling you, the heat of him surrounding you, the pleasure of the friction as he moved inside of you.

“Perfect,” he murmured again, his lips against your ear. “So goddamn perfect, god I was made to be with you like this,”

He began to move after a few stationary moments, his hips rocking against yours in a steady, measured rhythm, your bodies moving together in a desperate dance, the pleasure building with every movement. “You feel that, baby?” he gasped, his voice rough with desire. “You feel how well you moulded to fit me?”

You nodded mutely, your voice lost in a gasp as the pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke, every touch of his hands, every movement of his body.

“That’s how I know you were made for me,” he continued, his voice ragged with desire. “Your body fits with mine, like two pieces of a puzzle. You’re mine, baby, don’t ever forget that. You were made for me, and I’m never letting you go.”

His pace picked up, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, his breathing ragged with desire. “Don’t ever think you’re not perfect,” he whispered, his lips against your ear. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner, baby. And I’ll keep going until you say you believe me—”

His body was pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. You could feel every muscle of his body taut with tension, every line of him pressed against you.

“Don’t ever doubt how much I want you,” he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. “I’ll show you over and over again until you believe me, oh god, baby, I’m never going to stop needing you like this. Never.”

His thrusts were increasingly ragged, his rhythm faltering as his climax tried to sneak up on him, only for him to force it down so he could focus on you.

“Say you believe me, baby,” he gasped, his voice a pleading murmur against your skin. “Say you’ll never doubt what you mean to me, because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted— everything— and I can’t live without you, baby, I can’t—”

“I believe you,” you gasped, your own climax building within you, teetering on the edge of release. “I believe you, I do, Buck, I believe you—”

“Say you won’t ever doubt yourself again,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire. “Say you’ll believe me when I tell you how perfect you are, because you are perfect, baby, and I will fuck you like this every day if that’s what it takes to make you believe it—”

“I won’t,” you gasped, your words punctuated by a gasp as your eyes squeezed shut from the stimulation. “I won’t doubt myself, I promise, but please, Buck, I need–”

“I know what you need, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to give it to you. Over and over and over again, until you’re so full of me, and so sated that you’ll never doubt us again.”

His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his own climax, as he sought to bring you to the edge, to push you over and bring you to the release you needed.

“Come for me, baby,” he pleaded, his voice ragged with desire. "I need to feel you come apart beneath me, I need it, baby, come on—”

You cried out at his words, your body shuddering with pleasure at the combination of his touch and his words, the pleasure within you cresting and crashing over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body arched against him, your hands clinging to him as if your life depended on it, your breaths coming out in gasps.

Buck groaned as he felt you come apart beneath him, the feeling of you clenching around him drawing a guttural moan from him. “Oh god, baby,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “That’s it, oh god, baby, I’m right there, I’m right there—”

His pace quickly picked up, his thrusts ragged and desperate, his body tense with the need to join you. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he gasped, his voice thick with need. “Gonna make you mine, gonna make sure you know you’re mine forever—”

His thrusts became erratic, his breath coming out in gasps as he rode the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you, okay?”

“Yes,” you gasped, you hands desperately clinging to him, “yes, please, I need it, I need you—”

With a final, ragged gasp, he came hard, his body shuddering as his orgasm coursed through his torso and down his legs, spilling his release into you, white and hot and possessive in a way his words would never be.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling, his breathing ragged. “God, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea, actually,” you murmured, your own breathing still slightly ragged. You reached up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. “You’re damn convincing, Buckley.”

He chuckled at your comment, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. "I meant every word, baby," he murmured, his lips drifting up the column of your neck to your ear. "You're perfect for me, and I'll keep proving it to you until you believe it yourself.”

You hummed contentedly at his words, your body relaxing against him, boneless and sated. You could feel the warm, sticky aftermath of his release between your legs, and you tightened your thighs together involuntarily at the sensation. “I think I believe you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing small circles along his back.

He chuckled again at your words, his hands roaming your body, tracing a lazy path along your curves. "You're damn right you believe me," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "And if you ever forget it, I'll just have to remind you again. Over and over and over...”

He rolled the two of you over, pulling you close against his chest and wrapping you in his embrace. "But for now," he said, his voice softer now, "I just want to hold you. Just feel you in my arms, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing a slow, soothing circle on your back. "I love you, you know that?" he murmured, his voice gentle and full of tenderness. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I'm never letting you go.”

You smiled at his words, snuggling closer against his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin. "I love you too, Buck," you whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion. "More than anything.”

[ezisregrettinglifedecisions]

I saw a post by @bellenotthebeast about the hate drivers are getting at the moment and this is a written version of what I put in the tags of my reblog because I didn't realise I was going to go on a rant when I tapped on the reblog button.

734 words just in case you were wondering.

All of the hate that drivers get for making mistakes is getting absolutely out of hand. It's frankly ridiculous how many people will jump at the chance to nitpick and be rude about another driver and whatever mistake they made minor or not. (This is specifically in relation to comments taken severly out of a very important bit of context and actual driving moments, if there is something serious then yes I think they should be held accountable for their actions, just because they're rich and in a very elite sport should not make them immune from accountability even though it does appear to sometimes.)

The stuff with Lando is actually sickening with how far its gotten. None of them should have to see that. In fact, no one, f1 driver or not, should ever see or hear such horrible things that people are saying to or about them. The death threats???? Hello??? What the actual fuck were people thinking. The drivers are people too the fans of those drivers are people. Get a grip and don't fucking send death threats???? Is that really that hard to have basic human respect for other people???

I see hate so much. Be it in the comments of an edit on tiktok or on a fan page on Instagram. Even the drivers own comment section and the official F1 account. People. What the fuck. Be supportive of people, for goodness sake. Don't be dicks??? Is it so difficult to be nice to people? I can tell that, unfortunately, I'm going to be using that phrase a lot.

I want to see the positives in this sport too. I think with all of the hate, all the good things have been buried under the swathes of hate and pain ignorance in some cases. I want to read or watch a video on how driver A did something so well, even if it's small and insignificant in the overall. I really want to hear about the amazing defending, even if they did get overtaken eventually. I want to hear about them being so fucking happy with their Quali position. I want to hear them screaming down the radio when they get in the points. I want to hear the feedback on the drive, where things may have gone wrong, and even where people think things could have improved. I want to hear about the track and the conditions and how well everyone did and how the people and the fans and their teams are so proud of their achievements during the weekend.

The thing I do not want to see is - ew i hate driver B. EEK no driver C ruined everything. Driver D should crash into the barriers. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHEN THERE WERE COMMENTS HOPING DRIVERS WOULD DIE IN A CRASH. What the fuck is wrong with the people saying that???? That is NOT okay. EVER. Have you not seen how outraged Max Fewtrell was when someone said that they hoped Max V crashed and got hurt in his twitch chat room. He was furious. Saying how that wasn't okay and how fucked up it was to say something like that. Listen to Max for fucks sake please.

WE👏 DONT 👏KNOW 👏THEM👏.

They're public figures, and we only know the public side of them, not the side they reserve for behind closed doors. And for the fifth hundred time, we aren't entitled to know anything about them behind closed doors either. We dont have any ground to stand on to demand anything like that. Because who the fuck do you think you are to demand something like that. Seriously, some people need to understand that this ISN'T okay and the way these people are acting will NEVER be okay.

So just enjoy the sport.

Enjoy the drivers.

Enjoy watching their skills on the track.

Enjoy their interviews and their relationships together on and off the track.

Enjoy the side of them that we are allowed to see.

And stop hating unnecessarily.

Please, for the sake of the sport.

For the sake of the newer fans.

And for the sake of the drivers and their physical and mental health. You really need to think before you post. Think about the impacts it could have if something happens. Know that if your words are seen, that could be detrimental and how YOU played a part in something so horrible.

Thank you,

Ez

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Perfect - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Okay, so I really hope this is good. I based the Reader off myself, so I hope the reactions and frustration are at least somewhat accurate. I also added a little bit of angst. Hope that’s okay

Based on this request

CW: fluff, angst, Reader has AuDHD, Reader is an artist, frustration, anger, perfectionism, pacing as stimming, Logan is a good boyfriend, Reader is called handsome, Reader is his own worst critic, forehead kisses, cheesy ending, soft ending

699 words

“Logan!” You almost jump out of your seat, not expecting to look up and see him standing there.

It’s a habit of his, moving silently. It scares the shit out of you most days. You’ve nearly gotten hurt jumping out of surprise.

Today you just drop your sketch pad, your pencil falling to the floor. You bend down to pick them up, setting them to the side.

“You said you wanted to see me?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, watching you with an expression of vague amusement.

“Oh! Yeah!” You grin up at him. “I wanna draw you.”

He blinks and tilts his head a little. “What?”

You nod eagerly and get up, pacing a little. “I saw an art challenge online about drawing something you love. So I want to draw you.”

He snorts, watching you move about the room. “You’re fucking cheesy, you know that?”

You give him your best puppy eyes. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m not wearing a shirt for it.”

You hesitate for only a moment before agreeing. It’ll be fine. You’re great at drawing. This’ll be a piece of cake.

You’re on your fourth attempt and it’s only getting worse. You don’t know why, but you just can’t get the shape of his stomach right. No matter what angle or line you use, it looks… odd.

You exhale in frustration, feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never struggled so much before. Why now? Why now? Why with Logan?

“Hey, hey.” He crouches next to you, resting a hand on your thigh. “Calm down. Just breathe, alright? It’s just a drawing.”

“It’s not!” You don’t mean to snap, but the frustration feels endless. “It’s a drawing of you! It had to be perfect!”

You get up out of your chair and stalk about the room, clenching and unclenching your fists. Tapping them angrily against your sides. “I’ve done this like a million times before! Why not now?”

Logan watches you for a moment. Then he picks up one of your abandoned sketches and smoothes it out. “This one looks pretty good to me.”

You barely glance over. “It’s not good enough.”

He frowns.”It’s good enough for me. I like it a lot. Especially the way you draw my eyes.”

That gives you pause. You stop your angry pacing and turn to look. He holds up the drawing for you to see. If you ignore the stomach and the unfinished arm… you guess he has a point. You did capture his eyes well… and his shoulders. Those were hard.

You cross your arms, giving yourself a moment of sulking before you sigh and relent. You hate fighting with Logan and you don’t want to start arguing over something he genuinely seems to like. Even if it’s not perfect.

With a soft grumble, you walk over and tuck yourself into his side. Wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into him. It helps soothe the last of your frustration. Calming the burning restlessness in your limbs, even just a little.

He rests an arm around you, still studying the drawing. You eye it with a light glare, but hold back from commenting on everything wrong with the drawing.

“It’s perfect,” Logan says, finally. “My favorite.”

You blink up at him. His… favorite? Out of all your drawings, this is his favorite? “Wh— Why?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I just love it.”

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous he doesn’t have a reason, but you don’t say that aloud. Instead you just nod. “Alright.”

He gives your side a soft squeeze. “You good now, handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because it’s my turn now. I’m drawing you.”

You fake a groan of protest, but willingly head over to the couch. “I expect a full scale portrait. Complete with horses and a golden chariot.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best. Just sit down.”

You grin as you sit. Maybe your drawings didn’t turn out perfect, but your boyfriend certainly did. Maybe not for anyone else, but perfect for you. And you wouldn’t want him any other way.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[sp00kymulderr]

it might be nice

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings/Tags/Notes: 18+. FEELINGS. Angst. love. just...feelings. Mention of f receiving oral, reader is a not a us-citizen (visa stuff), commitment and intimacy issues all round, did I mentioned feelings? This just kinda started writing itself, i appreciate there isn't enough Dieter in it but it is what it is. Unedited, unbeta'd.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now.

"We could get married"

You look up from your book, drawn back from your far away to the sound of his voice. Dieter is looking at you expectantly.

Your eyes widen as you process the four words that just left his mouth.

"Dee, we…why would we…" You trail off, drawing your legs up and out of his lap, his thumb presses down on the arch of your foot once more before he lets it go.

The conversation had moved on hours ago. Over takeout you'd mentioned trepidation over being able to stay in the country, struggling with your visa and having no sponsorship since you couldn't seem to get a fucking job right now.

Dieter had listened, sympathised, and then eaten you out for dessert just to make you feel better about your situation.

It helped. He'd been pretty mediocre but extremely enthusiastic when you'd met, but now you'd taught him some tricks he knew just how to turn your mind off for a moment.

The conversation was finished the moment he put his mouth on you, or so you thought. He could help you pay for an extension but he wasn't influential or wealthy enough to sway the embassy into letting you stay longer.

"I'd bribe the fuck out of them if I could, you know that"

You did know that. You knew he'd do anything for you. He'd been saying it since the day he met you, once famous (more like infamous) movie star now a rehabilitated recluse with no one willing to be by his side.

He'd met you in a Dennys, of all places. 3am waffles served to his lonely little corner booth because he found it hard to sleep these days, and he got hungry at random times. You took the late shifts because they paid the best, and you could be available in the day for calls from your agent that never came.

It hadn't been sexual at first. It hadn't been anything but a displaced, alone man and an exhausted, untethered waitress sitting in a booth and sharing free fries because chef made too many and they'd only go to waste. It had been whispered giggles, and sharing ridiculous Hollywood horror stories, and 'same time tomorrow' over and over again.

No one in LA had made you laugh. Not until you met him.

Dieter hadn't heard genuine laughter in years. Now he got to hear it every night.

Back in the now, you shake your head. He's being silly. He's trying to make you laugh again.

"Don't be stupid" You playfully shove his shoulder with your foot, but his face falls into a frown, and you feel a little crack in your heart at the sight. You watch as he stands, rubbing fingers across his forearm and muttering a little 'Stupid, yeah'. The tremor you feel inside you is nameless, and you will it to remain that way.

In the last six months of your knowing each other, there have been times when you've felt this same feeling. An ache at the thought that he could be anything other than happy. You'd long since left Dennys for the upward trajectory of the Cheesecake Factory but still when the late shift rolls around you feel a tug at your lips and a name on them, even when you'd seen him only hours before.

You're not an item, that's the thing. You're not a couple. Neither of you have ever said the words outright, no 'I want to be with you', 'I want to be yours'. Not to each other, at least.

It's more than enough. Having what you have with him now. It's enough, it's enough, it's enough. Enough that he will sit up all night long and read lines with you again and again and again. Enough that he tells you not to come over on his bad days but you do anyway, and hold him while he cries.

It's enough to be just this. Because more would only make it hurt more when he relapses, when you have to leave.

When you have to leave…

You close your book, set it down on the table that's strewn with pages for your latest audition. Last night he'd coached you through every single line, and then told you with passion just how perfect you were. You can hear him in the kitchen, and you know he's making himself a decaf latte with way too much caramel syrup and a dash of the kitkat sprinkles because that's what he always makes when he might be starting to crave something else.

That's how you know he wasn't making a joke. That's how you know your hurt his feelings. That and every look he's ever given you, every smile that lights up his eyes that's only been for you. That and the way his hands never stray far from you, always grounding himself with the touch of your skin to his.

"Dee…" You pad up to him slowly, watch as he tenses at your presence. Another prickle in your chest, you can't let him think you don't feel...what it is that you feel.

"Would it be so bad?" He asks without turning, the tinge of dejection in his tone making you reach out. "I'd treat you good, you know. We wouldn't even have to live together or anything…it can just be a way for you to stay. That's all. I didn't think it would be so bad for you"

God, you've had him right in your grasp this whole time. The two of you dancing around your feelings all because of fears you didn't even fully realise you had til now.

"I'd- I wouldn't even tell anyone you were my wife, if you didn't want me to. I wouldn't expect anything from it. I just…fuck,"

You turn him around with a pull to his arm, shake your head and bite back something hopeful and beautiful that inches up your throat,

"I don't want you to go"

Your arms are around his middle, a stifled sob as you bury your face against the soft, worn fabric of his favourite t-shirt - your favourite by extension because everything he loves you love too. He smells like him.

You breathe him in.

He smells like home.

You look up at him and smile. Not the pretty smile you give to casting agents - the one that makes you look perfect - but the big, happy, loving one he saw the very first night you two met in that Dennys at three in the morning on a random Tuesday. The one he gives you back is the same; he's smiled a thousand times on camera, in films and press appearances and award shows. No one else but you has ever seen this smile.

You take a deep breath. The crack in your heart starts in fusing back together.

"We could get married"

[crazylittlejester]

This is how I imagine Time or Legend interacting with Warriors’s nieces/nephews:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGdLxGkt5/

ALDKDKKDDK CRYING, they’d both get trapped playing dolls for hoursss oh my god. Wars’s nieces would love those two

Time is definitely in that category where he is strangely good with kids but also very awkward about it. Like he treats them like mini adults sort of because he literally doesn’t know what else to do, and because of that they really like him. He’ll be sitting down with his hair tied up in a ridiculous way, makeup all over his face at a little tea party and Wars’s five year old niece will ask him just a random ass question and he’ll answer it in his normal quiet, low way of speaking. He doesn’t speak differently at all to them, he’d answer the question the same way no matter WHO asked it, same tone same word choice. (“Would you like more tea?” “No, thank you” // “What happened to your eye?” “I don’t want to talk about it” // “Are you old? My uncle says you’re old” “Hm… well he would now, wouldn’t he”) It’s because the kids can pick up on the fact he’s being completely genuine that they like him so much. Time would NEVER be the parent to use “because I said so” as a reason for something, he’d straight up explain why the answer is no

Legend on the other hand is like soooooooo good with kids but more in a camp counselor kinda way, but he cannot let the others know this because he will get teased to DEATH. He’s very sweet with kids, they absolutely adore him, he’s definitely the one doing voices playing dolls and trying to hide the fact he’s doing voices because he KNOWS he’s never going to live it down

Now on the complete opposite end of the chain, Sky is fucking teaching Wars’s nephews (the oldest of whom is like 8 or 9) and some of his older nieces (who are like. 6-7) tricks and shit and they’re off being sneaky, but it’s Sky so no one’s questioning it because Sky is a little shit but he gets away with it. He also taught them how to identify different kinds of bugs and how to properly pick them up without hurting them alskdkdld

im havin a lot of fun planning and working on this fic, the chain is going to love Wars’s family so much

[mythica0]

Silly messenger

🎂: Epic: The musical

🧁: Hermes

🍫: Poseidon

Summary: After Hermes decided to play a little trick on Poseidon, the god of the seas decides that instead of kicking his ass, he’ll try something a little different.

A/N: this is a sequel to Special Delivery by @amazingmsme ! Read that(and their other amazing fics) first!! Also, I know I’ve said it many times before but I’m saying it again I LOVE HERMES GRAHH. Also, you’ll know why I’m saying this when you get there, but I HC that Hermes likes being tickled and is very open about that. That man does NOT care. Lastly, the last line feels a little dumb but I didn’t know how else to end it so whatever. That all being said, ENJOOOYYYY!

Cw for swearing and some more intense tickles, but that’s it!

Silly messenger

Oh, Hermes was so screwed. He could tell by the mischievous smirk on his uncles face.

Was it worth it? Abso-fucking-lutely. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was still screwed. Royally screwed, even.

Y’see, Hermes was an opportunist(and a trickster) by nature, so when he found out that his pissy, grumpy-pants uncle was ticklish, he just couldn’t help himself!

And now he was about to face consequences.

Poseidon faced the first challenge of trying to get revenge on Hermes. Catching the fucker. He is the good of speed, and therefore ridiculously fast. The exit was blocked, but within the cave Poseidon still had to find a way to get Hermes out of the air and into his mischievous clutches.

“Grr, get your ass down here, feathers!”

“Hahahahaha! And why should I?” Hermes didn’t actually want to get away all that badly. But he wanted to tease his uncle, so he was putting up a fight anyway.

“Because if you do, maybe I’ll go easy on ya.” Poseidon smirked, picking up his trident.

“Yeah, right! I know mercy isn’t exactly your thing, uncle.”

“Well, if you comply, maybe I’ll be swayed otherwise.”

“Hahahahaha! I have absolutely zero belief in that, Poseidon. If you want to get to me, you’ll have to catch me first!”

Poseidon growled. He was expecting that. Didn’t make it any less annoying. So, the hard way it was then. He didn’t even bother trying to chase Hermes, he would get absolutely nowhere, the feathery fucker was far too fast.

Instead, he used his trident to summon the water around the cave to block Hermes in and hopefully get his wings wet so he couldn’t fly.

“Woah there! Smart move, but you’re gonna need to do a little better than that if you want to catch me!” Hermes ended the taunting remark with his signature, shrill giggle.

“Oh really now?”

Hermes pretended not to notice the small little trail of water that was sneaking up behind him. Again, he didn’t actually want to get away, after all.

The wings on his sandals got wet, making it so he had to fly back down or risk falling, landing right in Poseidon’s grasp.

“Got ya”

Hermes was still smiling, on the verge of giggling because of what he knew was about to happen. Poseidon took mental note of this. For later.

The sea god wrapped his arms around his nephew, and then started to wiggle his claws at his sides and ribs. “Really, you’d think you would’ve seen that coming, you getting sloppy?”

“Nohohoho!” Hermes responded, the protest infested with giggles. His hidden eyes were scrunched up from the wide smile across his face as he giggled.

“Hmm. Then what was that about, huh?”

“Yohou’ll sehee! Hehahahahaha!” Hermes laugh was a little less.. annoying.. when he was being tickled. Poseidon was expecting to sacrifice his eardrums to the loud, glass-shattering, infuriating laugh. But surprisingly, while it still held that infuriating, bird-like tone, it was much less high pitched.

He took his claws and scribbled his way under Hermes arms, causing them to clamp down to the younger’s sides as he laughed louder.

“Hehahahahahaha ohoho nohoho!” He called out, his instincts finding it unbearable no matter how much he liked it.

Poseidon noted many things. One of which being, “y’know, I don’t think you’ve asked me to stop once.”

“Hehahahahaha thahahat’d behehehe cohohorrect!”

Poseidon narrowed his eyes with a teasing smirk “so does that mean you don’t want me to stop?”

“Whahahahat doho yohou thihihink!” Despite the situation Hermes was in, he couldn’t help but tease a bit.

“Ha, that’s what I thought. Of course you would enjoy this, you silly messenger.” You’d think that since it was revenge, Poseidon would stop when he found out the other enjoyed it, but he didn’t. It was still revenge, he knew how unbearable the sensation could be, even for someone who liked it. So, he upped the ante, scratching his claws faster and faster against Hermes’ sides and underarms.

Hermes’ loud giggles echoed around the walls of the cave, kicking his feet lightly as Poseidon tickled him ruthlessly(ha, see what I did there?)

“Hehehehehahahaha! Thahahat reheally tihihickles! Hehahahahahaha!”

“Well, that’s the point. I’m tickling you, dumbass.”

Hermes didn’t try to conceal whatsoever how much fun he was having, smiling widely and never once trying to push at Poseidon’s hands or ask him to stop. What can he say, it was fun! Laughing like this was always a blast, no matter what caused it.

Poseidon decided to be a little mean and without any sort of warning, blew a loud raspberry right in the center of Hermes’ stomach. The messenger squealed and giggled louder, resembling his usual, ear-shattering laugh a little closer.

“EEEE! Ahahahahahahahahaha ohoho nohoho! Eehahahahahaa!”

“What? You don’t like raspberries? They’re a pretty tasty fruit, if I do say so myself.” Poseidon teased before doing the same thing again.

“Eehahahahahaha ihihi dihihidnt sahahay thaHAT! EEE!”

“Heh, you are an absolute dork, you know that?”

“Thahahank yohohou!” Hermes giggled out sassily in reply to the teasing remark.

“It wasn’t a compliment, stupid.”

“Ihihit ihihihis toho mehehe!”

“Ugh, shut up and laugh.” Hermes response was cut off by another squeal as Poseidon blew another raspberry, followed by changing the scratching at his underarms to drilling and digging, making Hermes laughter even louder and more hysterical.

“EHEHEHAHAHA! OHOHOHO GOHOHODS! HHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Heh, that’s more like it.” Poseidon finished the taunt with another raspberry, assaulting Hermes’ torso with lingering waves of tingles that made him feel so giddy.

Hermes wings were flapping and he was kicking a bit, trying to expel some of the energy building up within him from the bubbly feeling. It was a lot of fun and he was not afraid to show it, smile splitting his face in half with small happy tears pricking his eyes. Poseidon continued his relentless digging and raspberries, using his facial hair to make it tickle the younger god even more.

“EHEHAHAHAHA POHOHOSEHEIDON!”

“Whaaaaat? I thought you liked this!”

“IHIHI DOHO- BUHUT- EEEHEHEEEE!” His words were cut off with more squealing laughter. It was so intense and unbearable but also so amazing, sending giddy waves of laughter and tingles through his whole body.

As much fun as this was, Hermes laughter was starting to get shrill and high pitched again, so Poseidon stopped in order to spare his ear drums, letting go of Hermes who then stood on the floor, letting out remaining giggles.

“Gods, you’re loud.”

“Ihihi- hehehe.. I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” The smile in his face made it seem like he wasn’t actually sorry, although the latter part of the statement was true.

“Okay, whatever you say.” Poseidon walked back up to his throne and sat down with a dismissive wave.

“Go on, I’m sure you have more deliveries to take care of.”

“That I do! Ta-ta, uncle~ this has been fun!”

Poseidon rolled his eyes with a huff as Hermes left, hiding a small smile.

Maybe Hermes wasn’t so bad.

———THE END————————————————

[mykoreanlove]

Win you over

Part 3

„Sorry?“, he repeated dumbfounded.

„I think you’re very brave for coming up here and confessing. I’m really impressed. However, I can’t date you“, you explained.

„And why is that?“

„Because I don’t date“, you said sternly.

Hyunjin kept his cool, on the exterior. Internally however he had no idea what just had happened.

„This is the first time he ever got rejected. I can’t believe it“, Minho muttered under his breath.

„Is that like a set rule?“, he asked.

„It’s a rule I had to implement for myself.“

„Because…?“

You took a deep breath, debating whether you should disclose your reasons. Normally you wouldn’t but you felt like you had to with him. Since he was open and honest with you, you wanted to reciprocate.

„Whenever I tried dating someone I was always the one ending up with a broken heart. It always felt like love was avoiding me. After a while I just gave up“, you explained.

„Gave up?“

The thought alone made him wince in pain, Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic at heart.

„Yeah, I decided to give up on real guys.“

He nodded, feeling empathy for your decision.

„Wait, real guys?“, Minho interfered.

You chuckled nervously, you didn’t think he would catch that.

„Yeah, I substituted real guys for the one in my head.“

Minho‘s eyes widened in shock, trying to figure out if you were a severe nutcase yourself. Hyunjin however was highly intrigued.

„The one in your head?“

You nodded.

„I asked myself why I wanted to date someone in the first place. And I figured out that it was all because of certain emotions I wanted to feel. You know, feeling wanted and adored, appreciated and desired. Stuff like that“, you said with reddened cheeks.

Hyunjin‘s eyes wandered down to your body, taking in your physique.

„I know exactly what you mean“, he mumbled.

„And I figured out that I can give those feelings to myself. So, I invented a boyfriend“, you explained proudly.

„I knew she was crazy“, Minho elbowed Hyunjin.

„A boyfriend, huh?“

„Yeah, he’s basically my perfect type. I imagine him with me, sending me words of encouragement. Consoling me when I’m down, complimenting me when I look into the mirror. Stuff like that.“

„I bet she’s kissing her pillow thinking it was him“, Minho mumbled under his breath.

„I even gave him a name“, you laughed, very well aware how ridiculous all of this sounded. But you were set in your decision - this man, even though he was an invention of your mind, was the only one there for you, always by your side, no matter what.

„I see“, Hyunjin grinned. „That’s a lot to compete with“, he mused.

You packed up your stuff and got up, ready to leave.

„Thank you for understanding. Have a great life, Hyunjin.“

You waved at him and made your way home.

„Dude, I told you! Psychologists are all crazy! Like what the fuck was that? She had a made up boyfriend? That’s a grown woman!“

Hyunjin however was unfazed, smiling from ear to ear.

„What are you smiling about?“

„I’m going to make her mine.“

„What?!“, Minho yelled. „Are you out of it?“

Hyunjin took a step closer to his friend, determination in his brown eyes.

„Hyung, I’m going to show her that I’m better than the guy she made up in her mind. I will break down her walls and show her that fiction can’t even come close to what I can give her. Believe me when I say this - I will win her over.“

[kinninggojo]

aki hayakawa ft. toji fushiguro

𐙚 word count: 5.5k

𐙚 synopsis: you’re aki’s subordinate and partner. feelings are misconstrued on a drunken night out. you reconcile with aki after more drinks, and indulge the feelings you’re so ashamed of.

𐙚 content: angst, hurt/comfort, slight smut with fem!bodied reader, makeout session w/ sloppy kissing, sooo much alcohol, reader is slightly insecure, miscommunication and…toji.

𐙚 playlist: i like the way you kiss me by artemas, bathroom by montell fish, i was never there by the weeknd.

there were often times at work, where aki would lament the choices that had landed him there. everyone at work was an idiot, and if they weren’t a complete idiot, they weren’t far off. apart from you.

you weren’t at all an idiot and, crucially, didn’t get on aki’s every last nerve. you clicked with aki as soon as you started in public safety. you were cut from the same fabric.

you were all the things he admired in a colleague: impeccable, smart, dedicated. you already had a repertoire of devil kills on your application before starting, and for that reason he could trust you to get the job done. you were both capable and strong.

soon enough you were conciously deciding to take the same smoke breaks and grab each other coffee. after your first quarter, you had successfully committed aki’s coffee order to memory: black, with no sugar.

technically, he was your superior, and you were his subordinate, he was also older than you. you were always mindful of not crossing the line, even though his unruly top knot was fucking gorgeous and you’d already fallen in love with his half-assed smirks. you respected the position you were in, and ultimately, put your job before any of your trivial feelings.

you’d learned to survive thus far by compartmentalizing your feelings, you weren’t about to let a man ruin that, or get in the way of your goal.

that being said, it was comforting to know that you and aki were on the same page.

—

20:00pm.

aki took one last drag of his dying cigarette, and put it out. it had just turned 8pm, and you would surely be waiting for him. it was the night of your division’s bi-monthly gathering - this time at a local bar.

aki normally never bothered showing up, but a few months ago, you had successfully convinced him it was good for team morale. you would generally rendevous there, but this time aki had offered to walk there with you and agreed to meet with you outside his apartment at 8pm.

aki opened his front door to find you waiting outside for him. you looked freezing, just as he’d suspected. you were clutching a tiny purse infront of a thin dress that was completely impractical. your dress was small and black, embedded with gems. you looked nothing less than ethereal. aki cared deeply about his appearance and, like you, always kept himself tidy. he had changed out of his work suit into an identical suit for the evening, excluding the tie. you were unintentionally matching and the heat of this revelation made it’s way into aki’s pale cheeks.

“aren’t you cold?” he interrograted, already lighting up another cigarette in his mouth as he locked up. he always spoke with his cigarette in his mouth, he was always so nonchalant. that’s what you liked about aki, his indifference, it meant that he was easy to talk to, and share your secrets with. he rarely expressed any bias towards the things you said.

you shook your head, smiling at him. “just a bit, but it’s fine. the bar’s only a block away isn’t it?”

you snorted, “you know, if you’re worried about my hands freezing you can always hold them, aki.”

he rolled his eyes, skillfully feigning annoyance. aki was truly a liar. he loved it when you teased him and made jokes like that - they played into his fantasies. he would happily hold your hand, hell, he would carry you if you asked him nicely.

“don’t be ridiculous.” he said.

and that was that.

the sky overhead began to clear, revealling the universe. you watched the sky, walking aimlessly beside aki as you made your way to the bar with him, paying no attention to the racing cars, and even less attention to the pedestrains bustling around you. you wobbled on the kerb, nearly falling off.

aki opened the door for you once you’d arrived at the bar. it wasn’t out of character for him to treat you like that, like nothing below royalty, he even pulled a chair out for you as you went to sit down before naturally claiming the seat beside you. you wouldn’t have it any other way.

the bar was warm and dimly lit with candles. as you shrugged your coat off, aki couldn’t help but notice the different things you’d done with your makeup that night. your face looked dewy and shimmery, your lipgloss was glittery.

“what are you drinking?” he mumbled next to your ear, already sick of everybody else.

you hadn’t given it much thought yet. “um. maybe a lychee martini? i don’t know.”

the rest of the division were already engrossed in their own conversations. despite the numb chatter, it felt like the two of you were alone. you wouldn’t mind drinking alone with him, you thought, watching his thoughtful eyes.

“okay.” he nodded, and raised his hand to call a waiter over.

“i don’t know. i just want something sweet i think. decide for me?” you suggested, drawing circles on the menu infront of you with your painted nails.

to be honest, you hadn’t come along to drink, you had come to spend time with aki. he sat beside you, blasé, with his arm slung over the back of your chair, cool as ever. the air around him was confident, and heavy with the scent of his cologne, making it difficult for you to focus on anything else.

“you really think that’s a good idea? me deciding for you?” aki chuckled, “i’ll get you a lychee martini. that sounds sweet enough.”

you’d forgotten how quickly one drink could turn into five, soon enough you were slurring your words.

aki was always careful not to drink too much, incase you needed his help, and paced himself. also, he didn’t want to forget the time you’d spent together.

you laughed inbetween hiccups at a joke he’d made. he chuckled at you endearlingly, and steadied your hand as your 6th lychee martini sloshed around and threatened to spill over his lap.

“guys! guys!” you shouted, commanding the attention of your division. “did you know…that mister hayakawa here…” hiccup. “has never…ever…had a girlfriend!” hiccup.

the table errupted with giggles and aki scowled at you. “hillarious. now shut up.” he scolded, and teasingly confiscated your glass, dragging it over to his side of the table. he held the neck of the glass between his two fingers.

aki only bothered telling you that because you’d been prying. earlier that night, you’d asked him why he never brought any dates along, which is when he revealled that he’d never dated before - ever. he never had enough time, he lied, knowing all too well that he was simply holding out for the right person. aki would never admit it, but he believed in soulmates.

it wasn’t completely untrue that he struggled for time, his days would begin at 5am and finish at 10pm, sometimes later, 7 days a week.

he wouldn’t have time for a girlfriend, let alone dates and sex, these would always be things of little consequence to aki, unless it was you. he might’ve been able to find the time to spoil you, and take you to fancy restaurants. he’d move mountains for you, if you asked.

“hmph fuck you.” you whined, licking your lips and coating them with saliva.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not quite recalling your superior’s name, you were too tipsy for that. you reached for your glass and he dragged it away from grasp again, smirking at your deplorable attempt at a rebuttal.

“fuck me?” he lowered his voice and narrowed his darkening eyes at you. you narrowed your eyes back at him, and leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm. you watched him for a while and he watched you in return, pulse rising.

your eyes were drunk, pupils blown, mascara starting to smudge. aki thought about your dishevelled beauty, and how much he would’ve liked to taste your lips in that moment. his eyes feasted on you whilst, in his head, he mapped out routes to your soul.

truthfully, for as long as he could remember, aki saw you as his.

“aki?” you whispered softly, interrupting his racing train of thought.

“yeah?” aki’s heart started thumping. you watched his adam’s apple rise nervously in throat, albeit your eyesight was blurry.

“you’re staring at me.”

“am i?” he asked, bluntly.

aki cleared his throat.

—

12:09am.

through thick cigarette smoke, you blurted out “can i stay at yours tonight?” followed by, “shit…sorry, i shouldn’t that said that.”

why were you asking him that all of a sudden? were you tired? did you want something? did you mean platonically, or in the same bed? you were drunk, clearly, and didn’t know what you were saying, but he could hardly say no.

after it had taken aki more than 30 seconds to culminate a response, you slumped back against the railings with a defeated sigh. it was worth a shot, right?

“you don’t even need to bother asking to be honest, y/n.” he stated simply, staring up the sky.

you quickly perked up, leaning in for a smoke. aki’s pulse started racing again, he could smell the alcohol on your breath as you parted your lips for a tug on his cigarette.

“gimmie.”

your legs were wobbly and he instinctively opened his arms to catch you, but you managed to stay upright without them. his pale hands continued to hover over your waist as you hung onto the collar of his shirt. you were too cold and tired to give a damn, meanwhile the proximity of aki’s body kept you warm. you’d been close, even accidentally brushed hands before, but never this close. your heart fluttered, you could feel his muscly legs become entangled with your own.

“but you hate it when i smoke.” he mumbled, glancing down his nose at you.

“well i’ve changed my mind.” you retorted. you were being a brat.

with the little energy aki had left, he rolled his eyes at you, exhaling a cloud of smoke in your face. “no. let’s go home, get you some water.” he summarised, putting his cigarette out on the railings behind you. “if you smoke, you’ll regret it when you’re sober.”

you nodded and took aki’s arm without a second thought, trying not to stumble and disgrace yourself.

the walk home was giddy. you should have felt cold because you weren’t wearing a coat, but the alcohol kept you comfortably numb. you recognised aki’s subdued apartment, scarcely lit by street lamps, and groaned in utter relief as you approached the entrance. he supported you up the stairs, through the hallway, stopping patiently with you every time you needed to collect yourself.

“you okay?” he whispered, your noses practically touching. you could only manage a nod as the world outside aki’s apartment door spun crazily.

once you were inside, aki got down on one knee to relieve you from the tight heels you’d been wearing all night. once he’d losenend the straps, you kicked them off and they landed halfway across his kitchen. thud.

your concious thoughts began to drunkenly blur into one and you were fighting the urge to throw up.

aki needed to process what was happening so he let his hair down and dragged a hand through it to get rid of any knots. you were in his apartment, and you were going to be there when he woke up as well. he was stressed, you could tell, despite not being able to form a coherent stream of thought otherwise. you could see the tension in his brow and tight jaw.

he got up and flicked the kettle on to boil, his footsteps padding against the cold floor as he shuffled around in the dark, already making up the couch for you. making you comfortable was his priority, his hot drink would come second.

the only light in the apartment came from his bathroom door that was ajar, you realised he must’ve forgotten to turn the light out before leaving, which you found strange because he was usually meticulous. little did you know, he’d been too busy preening himself earlier in the evening.

you were still stood in the doorway, using the walls either side of you to stop yourself from falling face-first into the rug, growing increasingly impatient.

“aki. water…” you groaned, swallowing a burp that might’ve turned into something else.

“just be patient. maybe don’t get yourself so drunk next time.” he snapped.

“couldn’t help it.” you groaned again, ever louder this time, the left strap of your dress beginning to slip off your shoulder, revealling even more of your delicate skin.

aki stormed over with a glass of water and held it against your mouth. “you definitely could.” then pulled the strap of your dress back over your shoulder. he stared at you exhaustedly, compelling you to take a sip of the water infront of you.

“no…would’ve been too nervous otherwise...” you admitted, taking small sips.

you felt suddenly small, cowering between aki’s chest and the closed door behind you. you were almost half the size of him. this wasn’t supposed to feel so intimate, but it did. a blush crept up your chest, colouring in your cleavage, and your cheeks. with the little reserve aki had left, he fought the urge to stare down at your pretty tits.

you were so pretty. all night you’d been so silly and clumsy, it made his heart swell. aki gulped, the way your eyes glowed up at him from beneath your fluffy lashes made him feel hot and throb between his legs.

aki’d had sexual thoughts about you before, in fact, he often thought about you in the middle of the night, with his hard, dribbling dick in his hand, but the thoughts he had were purely the work of his lucid imagination. he could really see you now.

“nervous?” he breathed.

yes, nervous. you nearly shit yourself when you received aki’s text that morning, inviting you to meet at his apartment. it was a bold move, even for him. you were used to spending all of your time together at work, lunch was no exception, but this? it felt different, maybe even slightly unprofessional.

you quickly broke the heavy gaze between you and your superior, brushing past him and making a beeline for the couch.

aki was suddenly able to breathe again and he followed you, placing the glass of water on a coaster next to you.

“i’m going to get changed. please try not to puke anywhere.”

as he turned to leave for his room, you grabbed his wrist. aki’s heavy breathing resumed. he paused and thought seriously about his choices, and what he wanted, about how pretty you looked sat on the couch beneath him, and how badly he wanted to ruin you.

every fibre of his tortured being wanted to tear that sheer dress off your body and make you wet, but you were drunk, and that would be questionable.

“y/n. you’re drunk. stop it.” he shut you down, shrugging your hand off, and left you sat on his couch in a pool of shame.

this was for your own good, aki convinced himself, ignoring all of the horrible feelings that started to bubble within him. it physically pained him to shut the door on you and leave you alone in his dingy kitchen.

that night, you lay a healthy distance from aki’s bedroom, tucked beneath a spare duvet of his. the duvet, and his pillows, smelled familiar, a scent you had learned to recognise with your eyes closed. you had learned to detect him at work, using only your nose. a blue light, you assumed from his lamp, glowed from underneath his bedroom door. all night it gnawed on your mind how inviting that light seemed, and how nauseating it felt that aki didn’t fucking want you.

everything felt hopeless. all that hard work, all those months of winning his trust, and thinking you might have had him wrapped around your finger, had amounted to nothing. you knew aki was complicated, but you thought it would’ve been easier than that.

aki frowned on the other side of the door, pulling his pillow frustratedly over his ears. you cried quietly, muffling staggered breaths with his spare duvet.

“i’m a terrible person.” he thought aloud. it wasn’t a revelation, he already knew that he was a jerk and, despite having your best interests at heart, had managed to ruin you. he could have laughed at how ironic it sounded.

this would go down in history as, potentially, one of the worst days in aki’s adult life.

—

10:34am.

aki opened his bedroom door, doubtful that you would still be there, and scanned the room for signs of your presence. just as he’d expected, you’d already left, and his apartment was empty, not even the scent of you remained.

he squinted, the morning light crept in from the balcony and stung his eyes. you had folded up the spare duvet on his couch imperfectly before leaving, and the glass of water was still half empty.

aki didn’t regret the choices he made last night, he was protecting you if anything. he checked his phone for a shitty message from you, but there was nothing, and that was somehow worse. he chewed the inside of his cheek uncertainly, remembering how sweet you’d been, tugging him in between your legs, and inviting him into your heart with an alluring smile.

he felt the sudden urge to vomit and ran to the toilet, slamming his hand into the wall for support as he let it all out. he hadn’t had that much to drink the night before, so it must have been something else upsetting his stomach. maybe guilt was symptomatic, he thought. he’d never felt like this before.

aki continued to check his phone all morning, the anxiety beginning to cannibalise him. he guessed you’d deleted his number already, and that work was going to be extremely awkward on monday.

you’d gathered your belongings at 7am, and left in a futile attempt to get some sleep in your own bed, but it hadn’t worked. you eventually gave up, and decided to ride the day out with coffee.

you were so busy feeling sorry for yourself, that you hadn’t stopped to consider aki’s reasons for turning you down.

nevermind that, things wouldn’t have worked out anyway. this is what you told yourself. firstly, aki was a busy man, he never would’ve been able to make time for you outside of work. secondly, aki had never dated before, and his inexperience was a slight deterrent. thirdly, aki was complicated, he had a plethora of unresolved traumas, you figured it would be healthier not to bare the weight of those on top of your own.

despite telling yourself this, it didn’t make things any easier, save for potentially fucking someone else.

—

monday.

aki actively avoided you on the way into work on monday morning and, for the first time, showed up late. you felt his cold presence as he walked into the office. aki sunk his feelings that morning with a coffee and a cigarette before work, and you were determined to continue compartmentalizing yours, just as you’d always done.

you’d hoped to be subtle but everyone at work could feel the change and the increasing tension, especially on thursday when aki allowed his seamless character to break after denji kept goading him with insensitive questions.

“just shut the fuck up.” aki spurned, almost spat, scrunching up the ends of his papers, before storming out of the room. your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach and fell into irretrievable pieces.

after watching aki disappear for a smoke, your eyes settled on the paper infront of you. you held next week’s schedule in your trembling hands.

“what the hell was that about.” denji snorted.

“not sure.” you dismissed quietly, noticing that aki would no longer be your patrol partner. you had been pencilled in to patrol with denji instead. you looked down so that no one would notice the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

you were no longer in the picture, you realised. you lied to yourself every day after that, persuading your heart that it was possible to co-exist as strangers.

denji’s eyes softened when he noticed your unsteady hands.

“y/n, don’t stress it. you know i won’t let us get killed.” denji leaned forward, in an attempt to intercept your thoughts, as if that was your only concern - you wished that was your only concern.

“i’ll bare that in mind.” you laughed, without smiling, and stood up to take your break.

you would have died for a coffee, if it came to it, because you hadn’t slept all week. you missed your friend and you were sad, although it was favourable that your favourite café was so busy that morning. your lonely thoughts would become distrupted by the crowd’s chatter and for a brief amount of time, you would find yourself distracted by the smell of coffee and cake.

you wondered lifelessly through the door, recalling all the times aki had stopped you from falling off the kerb along the way, offered to take your heavy bag or stomped his cigarettes out on the pavement outside.

you wouldn’t normally give the barista your order, because she’d conveniently memorized it, but that morning you could have cried.

you’d unconciously paid for two coffees instead of one, and realised when it was too late, as she handed you an iced vanilla latté and an americano: black, with no sugar.

“thank you.” you croaked weakly and carried the drinks back to the office, hoping that you and aki wouldn’t cross paths - indefinitely.

—

saturday.

the best way to alleviate your pain would be by drinking, you thought. in hindsight, it wasn’t the worst idea. you made yourself look effortlessly sexy, it genuinely didn’t take much.

you glanced one final time in the mirror before leaving your apartment. tonight you would let yourself become unravelled and forget the past week. you would saturate your feelings with alcohol and find a stranger to spend the night with. you hoped to project all of your anger onto that stranger, so the week that ensued wouldn’t hurt so much.

everything was alright to begin with; the club you’d chosen was the perfect combination of cosy and tireless. the dj played songs behind a tacky smoke machine, silencing the hum of adolescent voices, underaged teenagers and over-aged mothers.

you threw back a shot of sour apple vodka, hissing. you felt ridiculous drinking alone, hopefully one of the dilfs in the bar would find you mysterious and agree to take you home, fuck you, if you were lucky.

you circled the rim of another shotglass, fingers glistening with diamond rings, when you felt a hand on your arm.

“what are you doin’ drinking here alone, sweetness?” a hot voice rasped against your neck, “need some company?”

“sure.” you welcomed the stranger���s company, patting the bar stool beside you without looking at him first.

you inferred that he was much older than you, and probably came from a difficult line of work. based on the calloused pair of hands that lay on the bar beside you, it was probably something physical, and demanding, which is why he sounded so tired and in desperate need of a drink. the arm in your peripheral was thick and muscular, not something you were used to, particularly the force of it curling around your delicate waist. you gasped softly.

“the name’s toji, by the way. fushiguro.” you didn’t care for introductions, and nodded, skulling another shot before ordering two more: one for you and one for your new friend.

he could sense that you weren’t willing to co-operate, not easily at least, and smirked. toji didn’t mind, he was used to girls that played hard-to-get, they were all just as sad and easy in the end.

“i reckon that it’ll only take two more of those things,” he gestured to your shot glass, “to get you talking.”

“bet.” you sighed, your head already beginning to feel fuzzy.

you didn’t trust your new friend, you didn’t trust anyone, but especially not him. no one felt like home apart from aki.

aki.

your heart did ‘the sinking thing’ again, and left a sour taste behind in your mouth, causing you to inadvertently frown at your drink.

“somethin’ bothering you?” toji questioned, downing a shot of his own, before ordering something stronger. he struck you as the type to drink heavily and wake up with no regrets because he was certainly big enough to handle it.

“yeah. a friend. ex-friend actually.” you replied. toji’s eyes raked down your body whilst you spoke to the tumbler in your hand.

“ah, there we go. so she does have a tongue in her head.” he teased in a ragged voice, which lead you to face him. you confirmed your suspicions by inspecting his face; he was indeed older, with a scar on the corner of his smirking mouth. he was the type you would happily fuck, but not trust.

to say that you had low expectations was an understatement, you didn’t have any at all. men like this were unpredictable, you would need to switch your emotions off if things were going to work according to plan.

“did he toy with your heart or somethin’?” he asked.

“not even. i was just - nevermind.” you shrugged.

“what did you do?” toji continued intuitively, swirling the drink around in his glass.

“stupidly thought my feelings were reciprocated.” you laughed bitterly. you had intended to forget about him, to dance the night away, but your feelings for aki were inescapable.

“god, all you females are the same.”

you were under the impression that your plan was failing already. every time you looked at toji, you were expecting to see aki smiling back at you, haunted by the nostalgia of drinking together last weekend. you sighed angrily, slamming your glass down on the bar next to you. “excuse me.”

you stumbled quickly to the bathroom, not realising how drunk you were until you stood up and tried walking. you pushed impatiently through the crowd, muttering expletives to yourself.

you locked yourself in a bathroom stall and sat on the toilet. you didn’t need to use the bathroom, you just needed space to breathe.

normally you’d be sending aki memes at this hour, or complaining about having to go into work on monday via text, too shy to ever call him. it was routine that aki would deprive himself of sleep just to talk to you, and hear about your day, now he had to wait for any sign of life from his phone.

you pulled your phone out of pocket and stared longingly at it, at the wallpaper of you and aki. he wasn’t smiling because you’d unexpectedly shoved the camera in his face for a selfie on your first day as partners. you leaned against the wall beside you. you wouldn’t need to dial his number…you had him saved in your phone…

fuck it.

aki rolled over with wide eyes as his phone buzzed on the table. he already knew it was you calling because he didn’t have a social life. he’d never answered the phone so quickly before in his life, he hadn’t even had time to rehearse an apology.

“i-“ he started.

“shurrup.” you slurred in a small voice. hearing him breathe was enough, you’d still be satisfied if he hung up after that.

“y/n. what the fuck. are you drunk?” he snapped down the phone. he wasn’t mad at you, he was just concerned, and had a terrible way of showing it.

“maybe…” you nearly giggled, your phone sticking to the makeup on your face.

“i’m coming to pick you up.” aki stated, already reaching for his trench coat. “fun’s over.”

“no you’re not.” you testified, shouting so that you could nearly be heard over the music in the bar.

aki bit his cheek. you were being difficult on purpose, but to his relief he could tell you weren’t nearly as drunk as last weekend. “tell me where you are.”

“rudi’s.” you blurted, hanging up the phone immediately. “shit.”

“stupid girl.” he laughed shortly, getting into his car.

rudi’s was a bar in the heart of the city. aki tapped his foot impatiently at every set of traffic lights, clicking his tongue. he dared to think what you might be up to, or what you’d already done in the 20 minutes it took him to get to you. he sought you desperately in the crowd, swearing under his breath at every person that stood in his way.

it relieved him to eventually find you at the bar intact. he grabbed you by the wrist, spinning you into his chest.

“home time.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no?”

“shut up.”

aki’s hand cupped the back of your nape and brought you in close. you searched his eyes for answers, to try and understand why things had happened this way, but you couldn’t find them, you couldn’t bypass the guilt in them.

you gulped, feeling toji’s eyes on you, boring a hole into the back of your head, as your hands rested upon aki’s collarbone. he looked dog-tired.

all you could come up with was, “don’t tell me to shut up.”

aki could have cracked a smile, but decided against it and leaned down into your neck, whispering, “care to explain why the guy behind you is staring at us?”

“just get us out of here, will you.” you mumbled, fiddling nervously with the buttons on his long jacket.

aki didn’t waste any time escorting you outside; dragging you away from your new friend and your abandonned drink. he threw you into the passenger seat of his car, and slammed the door shut behind him as he slid in next to you.

“you have some serious explaining to do, y/n.”

“likewise.” you replied. aki observed your broken eyes.

“i can’t explain it.” he started, squeezing the steering wheel infront of him. “i guess i didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“think badly of you?” you asked, suddenly confused.

“for taking advantage of you.”

“oh.”

you watched the man infront of you, mesmerised, your mouth forming the shape of a surprised ‘o’. he chuckled at your reaction. you’d missed that warm sound, it made you feel so giddy. you tried pulling your eyes away from him, but you weren’t able to resist his jaded looks.

“aki?”

“hm?” he hummed, and met your gaze with a matched intensity.

you licked your lips, wetting them, preparing for a kiss. aki glanced down at them.

in a voice that was barely above a whisper, he asked, “want me to kiss you, y/n?” and held you gently by the chin. he coaxed you in, contemplating your lips with his cold eyes.

he knew exactly what you wanted and the way you wanted it. he’d listened to you when you told him what you were looking for in a lover, during a work night out. you wanted a dominant man, a boyfriend like a dad, someone to make you weak.

“i’d do anything for you to forigve me.”

aki caved and sighed before kissing your open mouth. your heart erupted, and you let him blindly guide your hands around his neck. this would remain a well-kept secret between colleagues.

he slowly kissed you, swallowing your pretty moans, and licked your tongue each time before pulling back, only to lean back in and repeatedly do the same. he consoled you with his warm tongue, simultaneously exploring your waist with his hands and brazenly reaching up to squeeze your tits.

you kissed him back sloppily, noisily, moaning underneath big hands. the butterflies he gave you were so intense that you felt sick. you felt his hungry eyes all over your body, scalding you - you were on fire.

“is this what you wanted?” he purred against your ear, before dragging his mouth over your neck and smothering it some more with hot kisses. you whined.

“well?” aki teased in a soft voice, kneading your big tits, watching them bounce around in your dress. he wanted nothing more than to rip it open, and get on top of you, in all the animalistic ways he’d imagined, meanwhile he watched your nipples harden underneath your dress.

he repeatedly silenced you by pecking your mouth, muffling your voice each time you tried to answer his question.

you whined, squeezing your thighs together. it was overwhelming - he was overwhelming.

“aki…” you began, pushing him back using the little strength you had left, so that he was at arm’s length.

“i’m sorry about last weekend.” he admitted quickly, tucking a lose strand of hair back behind your ear. his lips were red and swollen.

“it’s okay. i’m just confused. i thought i’d misread things, but now you’re saying you wanted this after all?”

he removed his hands from your chest, and studied your changing expression, predicting that you would soon start blushing. he loved it when you blushed in front of him, proudly showcasing your vulnerability.

“yes.” he said plainly, panting, still catching his breath.

“i’ve always wanted this.”

© kinninggojo 2024

[poachersinyourhome]

just watched terrifier 3, big disappointment.

fist thing it didnt really grossed me out as much as it was marketed as. not because they werent horripilant situations, but because of how the movie forces you to become insensitive to violence. it happens EVERY. DAMN. MINUTE. it gets boring.

that and how badly it is acted. and how ridicule the situations are. are you tellin me the children didnt see the blood on art? and the parents werent immediately freaking out? just stops you from getting the freaks and makes you remember this is alllll fake and it stops being interesting.

also, didnt even make sense. and i hated how it transformed into crazy supernatural shit. the scene where vic grabs siennas head and tries to pass her soul onto hers (??? and their eyes get white/orange ?! made me laugh bc of how stupid it looked.

at the end, this was just another movie where the story is just a background thing, and the only thing the producers focused in was in getting violence to the theatres. sort of a fetish thing, id say. (talking about fetish did someone also fucking hated in the 2nd movie where sienna gets spanked / hit with idk what and screams for like 15 seconds??? bro try making fetish content less obvious pleaseee 😭)

only good thing abt the movie was art, he basically carries the whole movie bc of him being charismatic and iconic. but otherwise this would've been a 0/10. bye

edit bc i just remembered this other inconsistency it had. the girl obsessed w true crine said it was "about to be the 5 yr anniversary of the massacre (or wtvr)" to sienna. WDYM ABOUT TO BE THE ANNIVERSARY. DIDNT IT HAPPEN IN HALLOWEEN???? 😭 ITS CHRISTMAS. BITCH HOW. if someone has an answer (or if i just misheard it bc the movie didnt have subtitles, english is not my first language and im just bad at listening wo subs) pls correct me or EXPLAIN TO MEEE

[magicaemaxima]

Dionysia couldn't help but sigh in frustration and annoyance. All this power, and she couldn't convince a single witch here to even associate with her. Sure, technically she knew that she could use mind control, but that wouldn't be genuine, and she especially didn't want to ever use her magic against another witch to control or hurt them when they weren't harming her first. "I don't get it. I don't get witches from this world. You're all so jaded and distrusting of each other. I don't know when or why you've all apparently turned on each other. Where I'm from, witches took care of each other, supported each other. We knew who the real enemy was; not each other, but hunters who were determined to get rid of us. And they did, at least in my world. I got this power, but it was too late to save them. I was the last one left. Though, imagine my surprise upon finding a universe where hey, so many witches are still alive only guess what? They all hate each other and even though I'm always thrilled to meet them, they think I'm going to fuck them over. It's ridiculous."

"You don't trust me to be let into your head; how about this, I let you in mine? You said emotions activate it, yes? Maybe then you'll see that I'm not trying to trick you."

"It was a group effort," Billy said flatly. He stepped back, appraising her slightly. Analyzing. He knew some risks, knew there could be plenty more. It was easy to avoid blasting her, sure.... that wasn't the end of things, though, was it? "What if I don't want to let you in my head?"

[sysmedsaresexist]

The Time I Tricked Myself

NOT featuring false memories

TW below the cut for RAMCOA

This is not everyone's experience, not everyone will struggle with this, not everyone will find the same answers I have. The point of me sharing this is to talk about how delicate these discussions need to be among abuse victims, and that a lack of access to proper resources and information can make navigating those conversation extremely difficult. There needs to balance and safeties in place, should anyone become triggered for ANY reason.

This is not to make anyone doubt themselves.

It's to point out that if you can, you should have someone LICENSED and well versed in these topics helping you.

DID, at the base of it, is the same whether you experienced severe emotional neglect from your parents or whether you experienced RAMCOA.

Amnesia and self doubt being the two big issues here.

The first time I picked up a book about ritual abuse (like an actual book, not a lecture, or talking to clinicians or professors), I was between therapists and had just recently moved out on my own for the first time.

And online, you see so much... stuff.

I've heard only RAMCOA victims can have:

- PF systems

- Keepers

- Shells

- Number names

- Colour names

- "Designer" alters

- All different types of system travel, from stereotypical system hopping, to alter movement within system

- Alters with certain problems/reactions

Some of these things came up repeatedly in books I've read, but that doesn't mean they're unique to RAMCOA. Symptom severity is a very big difference. Small doses, so to speak.

When I picked up that book and read it, and saw many, many things that I related to, I panicked. For a good year, I genuinely thought I could be a victim.

I don't really remember that period of time, but I did a lot of stupid things. I fought with my family, cut them off completely, I was really struggling to get in to see SOMEBODY, anybody, and had a stint with a very unprepared therapist. I started doing more research and kind of fell into a hole.

I said some things to my family members that I really regret.

I had us so twisted up inside about this.

This was before I ever found the online communities

I was alone. Completely alone.

But had I found the online communities, would it have helped or reinforced my concerns?

To this day, I still wonder about the missing spots in my mind.

Could it have happened? That one teacher? That one neighbour? The vivid, unassuming faces that managed to find a place to stay in my memories? Why are they there? How long would it have taken? Do I really know all my alters?

And I guess that answers the question.

And what if something I say triggers these same questions in someone else? Would it be good or bad for them? I don't know, but I don't want the responsibility.