#that’s what i’ve been doing this whole time

[cressidagrey]

Wait, What?!

Summary: 

Oscar Piastri managed to keep his wife a secret on accident for nearly half a decade…

Come to think off, that was not the only one he kept a secret. 

Notes:

Part 2 of The mysterious Mrs. Piastri verse...

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Max Fewtrell

Lando: BRO. EMERGENCY. URGENT. YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS.

Max: Oh my god, what now?

Lando: OSCAR. PIASTRI. IS. MARRIED.

Max: …Yeah, that tracks.

Lando: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT TRACKS????

Max: I mean, I didn’t know, but also… not surprised.

Lando: HOW ARE YOU NOT SURPRISED??

Max: Because, mate, I knew Oscar back in the Renault Eurocup days. And he was in love.  Properly, stupidly, pathetically in love. You think Oscar’s all calm and unbothered? You should’ve seen teenage Oscar.

Lando: I CAN’T. MY BRAIN WON’T ACCEPT THIS.

Max: Bro, this man used to sit in the  paddock and stare at his phone, smiling at texts from her. Like, full-on grinning. It was disturbing.

Lando: NO.

Max: Oh yeah. Proper gobsmacked-in-love type of obsessed. We used to rip into him for it, and he didn’t even care.

Lando: WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIDN’T CARE???

Max: I mean, you know how Oscar is. He’d just shrug and go “Yeah, and?” Like we were the crazy ones.

Lando: I CAN’T PROCESS THIS.

Max: Mate, he was obsessed with her. Like, actual teenage boy, head-over-heels, no-thoughts-just-Felicity obsessed.

Lando: OSCAR???

Max: YES. You have no idea. We’d finish a race, and he’d be on his phone before he even got his helmet off. Always texting.

Lando: To her???

Max: Always. If he wasn’t texting, he was on FaceTime. If he wasn’t on FaceTime, he was watching her ballet videos like they were onboard footage.

Lando: …Ballet videos???

Max: She’s a ballerina. He tried to do ballet once. It went horribly.

Lando: PLEASE TELL ME THERE’S FOOTAGE.

Max: No, but I will never forget the look of pure pain on his face when he came back from one of her classes. “Max, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done. My calves don’t work anymore.”

Lando: I AM IN TEARS.

Max: And don’t even get me started on the food.

Lando: What food???

Max: Oscar always had the best snacks, and they were always things she made him. Like pandan cakes, curry puffs, some kind of egg tarts. Man was eating good.

Lando: I THOUGHT THAT WAS KIM?!

Lando: YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE WAS PACKING HIM LUNCHES LIKE A LITTLE HOUSEWIFE EVEN BACK THEN???

Max: Not even kidding. He always had food, and it was always from her. One time, I asked if I could have some, and he was like, “No, Felicity made this for me.”

Lando: HE WAS ALREADY A WHIPPED HUSBAND BEFORE HE EVEN TURNED 18.

Max: Precisely. Man has been gone for her since day one.

Lando: Selfish.

Max: To be fair, if someone made me homemade food with that much love, I wouldn’t share either.

Lando: …Fair.

Max: Also, she’s tiny. Like, I swear, I thought Oscar was going to break her just by hugging her. It was actually terrifying.

Lando: Who even is she???

Max: Felicity Lee? Leong? Something like that. She went to school with him. Tiny, startlingly pretty. I’m talking, ‘you do a double take and forget how to speak’ kind of pretty. That girl had Oscar so whipped before they even finished school, it was ridiculous.

GRID GROUP CHAT

Charles: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A WIFE???

Charles: OSCAR, EXPLAIN. NOW.

Pierre: I JUST SPAT MY COFFEE OUT.

Carlos: I NEARLY DROVE OFF THE ROAD.

George: YOU HAVE A WHOLE WIFE??? A LEGALLY BOUND PARTNER???

George: I’m sorry, I need someone to confirm because I think I hallucinated.

Oscar: …Yes?

Charles: OH SURE, JUST CASUALLY. "Yes." Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bombshell on live TV.

Lewis: This is the most shocking news of the year, I need a moment.

Alex: You have a wife?

Alex: SINCE WHEN???

Fernando: The quiet ones always have secrets.

Max: Why do I feel like Daniel just screamed somewhere?

Daniel: I AM SCREAMING. I AM SCREAMING IN MY HOTEL ROOM. WHAT DO YOU MEAN OSCAR IS MARRIED??

Oscar: Five years.

Pierre: FIVE YEARS????

Carlos: YOU GOT MARRIED AT EIGHTEEN???

Lando: WHILE THE REST OF US WERE STILL FIGURING OUT HOW TO TALK TO GIRLS, YOU WERE OUT HERE GETTING MARRIED???

Oscar: Yeah.

Charles: WHY DID NONE OF US KNOW???

Logan: You guys didn’t know?

Charles: YOU KNEW?!

Logan: Yeah, met her ages ago.

Lando: HOW. WHY. WHEN.

Logan: Prema? Arthur knows too, I am pretty sure. 

Pierre: YOU WERE HOLDING THIS INFORMATION FROM US.

Oscar: I didn’t think it was that big of a deal?

Charles: NOT A BIG DEAL?!

Carlos: You could have at least mentioned it.

Lewis: Does she exist? Are you lying? Do we need proof?

Oscar: …Yes, Lewis, she exists.

Lando: WHO IS SHE. WHAT IS HER NAME. WHAT DOES SHE LOOK LIKE.

Max: How did you manage this? You are… you.

Oscar: ???

Daniel: I NEED TO SIT DOWN.

Lando: YOU ARE SITTING DOWN.

Daniel: I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

Oscar: You guys are being dramatic.

Pierre: You hid a whole wife from us. We are allowed to be dramatic.

Oscar: You never asked?

George: WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE NEVER ASKED??? HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW TO ASK???

Oscar: I don’t really talk about my personal life.

Lando: CLEARLY.

Pierre: But why doesn’t she come to races?

Oscar: She doesn’t like the circus.

Oscar: It gives her anxiety.

Oscar: And she’s already given up enough for me.

Charles: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GIVEN UP ENOUGH FOR YOU??

George: Bro, are you hearing yourself?? That sounds serious.

Carlos: That sounds like something from a movie.

Oscar: I don’t know why you’re all freaking out.

Pierre: BECAUSE YOU DROPPED THE BIGGEST NEWS OF THE YEAR LIKE IT WAS NOTHING???

Lando: Yeah, and now we’re finding out your mysterious wife has sacrificed things for you??? OSCAR.

Oscar: Her family didn’t approve of us getting married so young.

Lando: Okay, fair, that’s kind of understandable—

Oscar: So they cut her off.

Lando: WHAT.

Pierre: WHAT.

Carlos: EXCUSE ME???

Daniel: I’M GOING TO FIND THEM AND YELL AT THEM.

Charles: HOLD ON. YOU’RE SAYING SHE LEFT EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND HER FAMILY JUST—DIDN’T SPEAK TO HER AGAIN???

Oscar: Pretty much.

Lewis: …That’s awful.

Oscar: It is what it is.

Lando: NO, NO, IT’S NOT JUST WHAT IT IS. WHAT THE HELL, OSCAR.

Pierre: HOW HAVE YOU JUST NEVER TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE???

Oscar: Because it’s not my story to tell.

Carlos: That’s… actually fair.

Max: Her parents are stupid.

Oscar: Yeah, well. Nothing I can do about that.

Lewis: That must have been really hard for her.

Oscar: It was. It still is, sometimes. But she doesn’t regret it.

Lando: BECAUSE SHE LOVES YOU???

Oscar: Yeah.

Pierre: Oh my god.

Daniel: I’m emotional.

George: Okay but we don’t even know her name.

Pierre: DROP THE NAME, OSCAR.

Oscar: Felicity.

Lando: FELICITY????

Pierre: That’s so cute, I can’t even be mad.

Daniel: FELICITY PIASTRI???

Oscar: Yeah.

Lando: WHERE DOES SHE LIVE?? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING HER???

Oscar: We live near the McLaren HQ.

Lando: YOU LIVE TOGETHER.

Pierre: OF COURSE THEY LIVE TOGETHER, LANDO, THEY’RE MARRIED.

Carlos: I feel like I need to lie down.

Daniel: You and me both.

Lewis: Alright, so when do we get to meet her?

Oscar: I’ll ask if she wants to come to Silverstone?

TEXT MESSAGES: Charles & Arthur Leclerc

Charles: ARTHUR.

Arthur: yes brother dearest

Charles: YOU KNEW OSCAR WAS MARRIED???

Arthur: uhhh yeah??

Charles: AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME???

Arthur: why would i tell you? i thought you knew?

Charles: WHY WOULD I KNOW??? HE NEVER TALKS ABOUT IT.

Arthur: yeah, he’s private about it, but like… he’s been married for years. i thought it was just one of those things everyone knew??

Charles: EVERYONE??? APPARENTLY NOT ME.

Arthur: ok but be honest. if i told you “oh yeah oscar got married at 18,” would you have believed me?

Charles: …fair point.

Charles: BUT STILL. HE GOT MARRIED AT 18???

Arthur: i know. we were all out here at prema still figuring out how to flirt and oscar was out here being A HUSBAND.

Arthur: like, we were panicking over texting girls back and he was making plans for dinner with his wife.

Charles: HOW DID THIS NEVER COME UP???

Arthur: idk, he’s not the type to bring it up randomly.

Arthur: but if you do ask, it’s game over. bro is OBSESSED with her.

Charles: ???

Arthur: like, i’ve seen him sit through a full engineering debrief completely unfazed, no reaction, zero emotions.

Arthur: but then his wife texts him “good luck” and suddenly he looks like he just won the lottery.

Arthur: prema days were just a bunch of kids losing their minds over instagram likes while oscar was married.

Arthur: like, we’d be debating if texting a girl twice in a row was too desperate, and oscar was over there planning his life with his wife.

Arthur: her family basically disowned her when she married him.

Charles: …what?

Arthur: yeah. they thought she was ruining her life by marrying some kid in motorsport.

Arthur: they told her she was throwing everything away for him. that he’d never make it, that she’d regret it.

Arthur: and when she didn’t back down, they cut her off completely. oscar doesn’t talk about it because he knows.

Arthur: he knows what she gave up for him.

Arthur: and he takes that personally.

Arthur: like, have you ever seen oscar get actually angry?

Charles: …no?

Arthur: i have. once.

Arthur: i walked in on him on the phone with her father.

Arthur: it was the scariest moment of my life.

Charles: OSCAR???

Arthur: YES.

Arthur: he was so calm but also terrifying.

Arthur: like, i swear to god, he said something like, “i don’t care what you think of me, but you don’t get to make her feel like she’s not worth loving.”

Arthur: And then he told the guy that if he ever so much as thought about talking to her like that again, oscar would personally fly across the world and put him in the ground.

Arthur: and the worst part? her dad believed him.

Arthur: like. i could hear it. the silence. the fear.

Arthur: and then oscar just hung up like it was nothing.

Arthur: meanwhile, i’m standing there losing my mind, trying to comprehend that my quiet, nice, mild-mannered teammate had just casually promised to commit murder.

Charles: holy shit.

Arthur: yeah. so next time you see him, just know: that man would burn the world down for his wife and daughter

Charles: ARTHUR. EXPLAIN. NOW.

Arthur: explain what?

Charles: “OSCAR’S WIFE AND DAUGHTER”???

Arthur: ohhh yeah. oscar has a kid. her name’s Bee. cutest little girl ever.

Charles: WHAT DO YOU MEAN OSCAR HAS A KID.

Arthur: i mean oscar. has a kid.

Charles: SINCE WHEN.

Arthur: since like. three years ago.

Charles: HE HAD A CHILD AT TWENTY?

Arthur: yeah, man. wild, right?

Charles: WHY AM I JUST NOW FINDING OUT.

Arthur: idk. you never asked.

Charles: WHY WOULD I ASK “HEY ARTHUR, DOES OSCAR HAVE A SECRET FAMILY”???

Arthur: fair point.

Charles: DOES THIS MAKE ME A GRANDPA.

Arthur: oh my god. wait.

Arthur: it kinda does.

Arthur: papy charles.

Charles: I WILL MURDER YOU.

Arthur: relax, grandpa.

Charles: I AM NOT A GRANDPA.

Arthur: okay, old man.

Charles: FOCUS.

Charles: WHY DID NO ONE THINK TO MENTION THIS TO ME.

Arthur: because oscar’s private? plus, it’s not like it changes anything. he’s still the same oscar. just, y’know. a dad.

Charles: I CANNOT PROCESS THIS.

Arthur: bro, when i first found out, i thought he was crazy.

Arthur: like. imagine being twenty and deciding “yeah, i’m gonna be a dad now.” insane behavior.

Arthur: but honestly? he’s so good at it.

Arthur: like. weirdly good.

Charles: HOW.

Arthur: idk man. some people are just meant to be parents.

Arthur: he’s just so patient with her. like, you know how nothing ever rattles him? that times a hundred.

Arthur: she threw a toy car at his head once and he just smiled and said “nice aim, Bee.”

Charles: ???

Arthur: i’m telling you. completely obsessed with that kid.

Arthur: also she calls him “Papa” and it’s the cutest thing ever.

Charles: I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

Arthur: is it because you’re old now.

Charles: I AM GOING TO END YOU.

Grid Group Chat

Charles: OSCAR.

Charles: I NEED ANSWERS RIGHT NOW.

Oscar: …About?

Lando: What did you do now.

Carlos: This feels serious.

Charles: DO YOU HAVE A CHILD???

Pierre: Excuse me?????

George: What.

Alex: No way.

Lando: WHAT?!?!

Fernando: Interesting.

Lewis: Oscar?

Oscar: Yeah.

Lando: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YEAH????

Lando: THAT’S NOT A CASUAL QUESTION.

Lando: “YEAH” IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ANSWER.

Carlos: Wait, what.

Daniel: Oh my god.

Pierre: BACK UP.

Charles: HOW DOES ARTHUR KNOW BEFORE ME???

Oscar: He met her.

Lando: HE MET HER???

Pierre: SHE EXISTS IN A FORM THAT CAN BE MET???

George: OSCAR.

Max: Is everyone going to keep screaming?

Charles: OSCAR YOU HAVE A CHILD AND NEVER TOLD US???

Oscar: No one asked.

Lando: OH I’M SO SORRY, LET ME JUST RANDOMLY ASK EVERYONE ON THE GRID IF THEY SECRETLY HAVE CHILDREN.

Alex: Three years, mate. You’ve had a kid for three years and never said a word?

Oscar: Yeah.

Pierre: I am STUNNED.

George: STUNNED.

Lando: LIKE ACTUALLY YOU HAVE A THREE-YEAR-OLD HUMAN CHILD????

Oscar: Yes, Lando.

Lando: I need to sit down.

Charles: WHY HAVE YOU NEVER BROUGHT HER TO A RACE.

Oscar: Because I promised my wife I wouldn’t buy her a kart until she’s five, and if I bring her to a race, that’s all she’ll want for her birthday.

Carlos: …She’s already obsessed, isn’t she.

Oscar: Oh, completely.

Oscar: She watches onboards for fun.

Pierre: Onboards.

Lando: WHAT THREE-YEAR-OLD WATCHES ONBOARDS????

Oscar: Mine.

Logan:  Bee is kinda obsessed lol

Lando: BEE?!?! HER NAME IS BEE?!?

Oscar: Beatrice. But we call her Bee. 

Oscar: She also gives commentary.

George: Commentary.

Oscar: Yeah. She said George is a bit too careful, but she respects it.

George: …Tell her I appreciate that.

Oscar: She thinks Alex is underrated.

Alex: Smart girl.

Oscar: She says Max and Charles are the fastest.

Charles: Oh, she has taste.

Max: A future World Champion.

Lando: WHO DOES SHE THINK I AM THEN????

Oscar: She says you talk too much.

Lando: I AM BEING BULLIED BY A TODDLER.

Oscar: And she also doesn’t understand why you always “let” Max pass you.

Max: I like her.

Lando: THIS IS CHARACTER ASSASSINATION.

Charles: I need to meet this child.

Max: Me too.

Fernando: Same.

Lewis: When’s she coming to the paddock?

Oscar: She’s not, because if she meets Max and Charles in person, I will not hear the end of it.

Charles: Oh, we have to meet her.

Lando: NOT UNTIL I WIN HER OVER.

Lando: WHO DOES SHE SUPPORT????

Oscar: She’s three, Lando.

Lando: THAT DOESN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION.

Oscar: She says she supports “everyone.”

Max: That’s diplomatic.

Charles: No, that’s suspicious.

Charles: Who does she really support?

Oscar: …She says she supports whoever wins.

Pierre: OH SHE’S A GLORY HUNTER.

Carlos: NO LOYALTY.

Alex: A ruthless fan. I respect it.

Lando: I AM SUFFERING.

Oscar: She does like McLaren. She just thinks Ferrari is “prettier.”

Charles: YES.

Carlos: This child has taste.

Lando: I AM LOSING TO FERRARI ON VIBES ALONE????

Oscar: Sounds like it.

George: This is all well and good, but I need to know—what does she think about you, Oscar?

Oscar: …

Lando: OH MY GOD.

Daniel: OH THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD.

Oscar: She says I’m her favorite after Max and Charles.

Charles: YES.

Max: Acceptable.

Oscar: But she also says I have the best helmet.

Fernando: That’s a win.

Lando: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE A WHOLE SECRET DAUGHTER WHO BULLIES ME FROM AFAR.

Oscar: She doesn’t bully you.

Oscar: She just doesn’t understand why you let Max pass you all the time.

Max: A wise child.

Lando: I HATE IT HERE.

Charles: I demand a meeting.

Max: Me too.

Pierre: We’re all uncles now.

Lando: NO. NOT UNTIL SHE ACCEPTS ME.

Oscar: Good luck with that. She also says you sound funny when you yell.

Lando: I’M GONNA CRY.

Lando: I NEED A SECOND CHANCE.

Lando: I CAN WIN HER OVER.

Max: She sounds very intelligent.

Charles: Yes. Clearly, she has excellent judgment.

Lando: STOP SUCKING UP TO HER, YOU’RE ALREADY HER FAVORITE.

Carlos: So what does she think about the other drivers?

Oscar: Do you really want to know?

Pierre: Oh absolutely.

Fernando: I am prepared.

Oscar: Okay.

Oscar: She thinks George sounds like Peppa Pig.

George: …

Lewis: Oh my god.

Alex: OH THIS IS PERFECT.

Lando: WE WILL NEVER LET THIS GO.

George: I AM LOSING TO A CARTOON PIG.

Oscar: She heard you on the TV and asked why Peppa was driving a car.

Pierre: No, you ARE a cartoon pig.

Alex: This is the best day of my life.

George: I hate all of you.

Oscar: Moving on…

Oscar: She thinks Fernando is the “oldest driver ever.”

Charles: At least she knows the history of the sport.

Fernando: I’m taking that as a compliment.

Oscar: She also says Yuki is small and should be allowed to stand on the seat so he can see better.

Yuki: I AM NOT THAT SHORT.

Pierre: SHE SPEAKS THE TRUTH.

Oscar: Oh, and she likes Lewis because she likes his earrings.

Lewis: That is the only valid reason to like me.

Oscar: She also thinks you’re the boss of everyone.

Lewis: That is also true.

Lando: PLEASE TELL ME SHE HAS A TERRIBLE OPINION ABOUT CHARLES OR MAX.

Oscar: She thinks Charles crashes too much but is “really, really fast.”

Max: Accurate.

Oscar: And she says Max is “really good, but scary.”

Max: I am scary.

Charles: No, you just race like a maniac.

Oscar: She also thinks you and Carlos are best friends because you wear the same color.

Carlos: I am okay with this.

Lando: WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO LOSES HERE.

Oscar: Get better PR.

Oscar: She likes Daniel because she says his voice sounds happy.

Daniel: SHE IS SO REAL FOR THAT.

Charles: So she wants to race??

Oscar: Oh yeah. She watches all the onboards. She says the Red Bull looks "like a rocket ship," and McLaren is "super fast now," but Ferrari is "a little bit broken."

Carlos: You HAVE to bring her to a race.

Lando: Okay but actually. Do you think she’ll do karting?

Oscar: Yeah. Probably.

Oscar: She already yells “Lights out and away we go” when she runs down the hallway.

Fernando: Oh, she’s one of us.

Lando: She’s already got the spirit.

George: Unlike Lando.

Lando: I AM GOING TO FIGHT YOU.

Max: No, because you’ll lose.

Lando: I’M STILL PROCESSING. OSCAR HAS A WHOLE CHILD. A CHILD WHO GIVES HIM PERFORMANCE REVIEWS.

Oscar: Yeah, she told me my race suit is “not very pretty.”

Charles: What does she think of Max’s?

Oscar: “It’s blue. That’s okay.” She likes yours more, because Red is good. 

Charles: She has excellent taste.

Oscar: She also said, “You should win more too.”

Lando: Has she ever said that to Max?

Oscar: No, because she thinks he already wins enough.

Max: Wise.

George: What does she think about Mercedes?

Oscar: She likes the silver one better than the black one because “it’s shinier.”

Lewis: Fair.

Oscar: But she said, “It’s not as pretty as red.”

Oscar: She also thinks all our helmets should have “more animals and less boring stuff.”

Lando: SHE IS THE FUTURE OF THIS SPORT.

Oscar: Then she told me, “You need a koala on yours.”

Alex: That’s fair.

Lando: OKAY BUT DOES SHE HAVE ANY RACE STRATEGY OPINIONS.

Oscar: Of course.

Charles: Please share.

Oscar: The other day, I was watching a race replay, and she climbed onto the couch next to me, stared at the screen, and went, “Why are you still on those tires?”

Carlos: HAHAHA.

Oscar: And I said, “Because we haven’t pitted yet,” and she just shook her head and went, “That’s silly. You should get new ones now.”

Lando: SHE’S SO SMART.

Pierre: Does she understand tire compounds?

Oscar: She knows soft tires are fast, medium tires are okay, and hard tires are “boring and ugly.”

Charles: Honestly, she gets it.

Lando: NO BUT ACTUALLY DOES SHE HAVE THOUGHTS ON DRS.

Oscar: Oh, yeah. She calls it the “flappy thing.”

Pierre: I love her.

Oscar: She saw an onboard where I opened it, and she just went, “Oooooh, flappy thing makes you go fast.”

Max: I mean, she’s right.

Alex: Does she like overtakes?

Oscar: Yeah, but she only gets really excited when I do them. Otherwise, she just watches quietly and then claps if it looks cool.

Charles: Does she cheer for anyone else?

Oscar: One time, she saw you make a double overtake and went, “Ohhhhh, I like him.”

Carlos: Betrayal.

Oscar: She likes you too, don’t worry. But I think she just thought that move was cool.

Carlos: I suppose I will allow it.

George: Oscar, have you explained to her why Lando hasn’t won yet?

Oscar: Not really. I just told her, “It’s really hard to win in F1,” and she thought about it for a second and went, “Not for Max.”

Max: HAHAHA.

Charles: She is actually too smart.

Lando: I AM BEING DRAGGED BY A TODDLER WHO DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HER OWN LAST NAME YET.

Oscar: She does know her last name, actually.

Lando: GOOD FOR HER. I’M STILL SUFFERING.

Carlos: Has she asked why you haven’t won a race either, Oscar?

Oscar: No.

Pierre: WHY NOT??

Oscar: I think she assumes I’m too busy taking care of her.

George: Honestly, fair.

Lando: I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE A DAD.

Oscar: Believe it.

Lando: I CAN’T. AND NOW I’M GOING TO HAVE AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS BECAUSE YOUR TINY CHILD THINKS I’M BAD AT MY JOB.

Oscar: She didn’t say you were bad. Just that you haven’t won yet.

Lando: SAME THING.

Oscar: It’s okay, Lando. I’ll tell her you’re trying your best.

Lando: STOPPIT.

Lando: NO ACTUALLY I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS. WHAT ELSE HAS SHE SAID.

Oscar: What do you mean?

Lando: I MEAN ABOUT F1. ABOUT ME. ABOUT YOU. ABOUT ANYTHING. I NEED TO KNOW HOW BADLY A THREE-YEAR-OLD HAS DRAGGED ME BEHIND THE VIRTUAL SAFETY CAR.

Oscar: Well, she’s got a lot of opinions.

Charles: What kind of opinions?

Oscar: She has told me she doesn’t like safety cars because they’re “boring,” and that red flags are annoying because she has to wait.

Max: I respect it.

Oscar: But she does like when there’s a big crash because she gets to say, “Uh oh!”

Lando: NO BECAUSE IMAGINE YOU BIN IT AND YOU HEAR A TINY LITTLE “UH OH” OVER THE RADIO.

Max: I would retire.

Oscar: She also said if I ever win a race, she wants to do the shoey with me.

Lando: THAT’S HORRIBLE. DON’T LET HER DO THAT.

Oscar: Felicity already said no.

Lando: Good. I’m still recovering from the fact that you have a whole wife and a daughter.

Oscar: You’ll be fine.

Lando: WILL I.

Oscar: No.

Lando: GREAT.

Lando: I’M NOT OVER IT.

Carlos: We know.

Lando: YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER.

Oscar: I do.

Lando: A WHOLE DAUGHTER.

Oscar: That is usually how it works.

Lando: YOU NEVER TOLD ME.

Oscar: You never asked.

Lando: WHO ASKS, “HEY, DO YOU SECRETLY HAVE A WHOLE TODDLER?”

Charles: I might start.

Lando: I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS.

Oscar: It’s not that big of a deal.

Lando: NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL???

Oscar: She’s just a tiny person.

Lando: A TINY PERSON WHO WATCHES F1 AND HAS OPINIONS.

Oscar: Correct.

Lando: I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS.

Pierre: Bro, breathe.

Lando: NO.

[astonmartinii]

wherever the roots may lead you | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x antonelli!reader

when one takes an ancestry test they don’t usually expect to find out that their half brother is now racing in formula one…

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, user1 and 1,578 others

yourusername: the whole office decided to do an ancestry test - WHY IS MY HALF BROTHER KIMI ANTONELLI???

view all comments

user1: girl i follow you for your pasta recipes why am i expected to know who this man is

user2: he’s a formula one driver?

user3: he’s A BABY

user4: the way this did not answer a single question

yourbff: bro you’re italian, there’s probably hundreds of kimi antonellis

yourusername: no one asked you to be logical about this

yourbff: let’s just not claim a random 18-year-old without verifying it

yourusername: well in the short five minutes i’ve known of his existence i have googled him and all the dates line up

youbff: not to support this delusion but you two do look freakishly similar

user5: i fear my kimi stanship has led me to dark places

user6: for real why is this girl yapping

user7: idk how i got here but they do look like they could be related …

user8: if they are it’s still probably not the weirdest thing to happen in f1 this week

user9: someone needs to study the sport and as to why it’s so fucking weird

olliebearman: who are you and why have you stolen kimi’s face

yourusername: excuse me?

olliebearman: you are excused

yourusername: what?

olliebearman: you are claiming to be related to kimi but i happen to know everything ever about him sooooooooo where have you been all this time?

yourusername: well i kind of just found out about this so i don’t have an answer for you right now?

olliebearman: i’ve got my eye on you weirdo

yourusername: okay?

kimiantonelli: wait!!! ollie how did you even find this post it’s got like 2k likes?

yourusername: omg read?

olliebearman: well it just came up on my explore page?

yourusername: no the fuck it didn’t

olliebearman: EXCUSE ME MISS, KEEP YOUR BEAK OUT OF BEARNELLI BUSINESS

yourusername: you’re doing your business in my comment section?

user10: i swear these fools are meant to be at media day

user11: nothing stops for bearnelli chaos clearly

estebanocon: @olliebearman yo? we were meant to be filming like 20 minutes ago?

olliebearman: oh? i was busy

yourusername: busy getting on my nerves

olliebearman: WHO ARE YOU?

yourusername: you’re on MY INSTAGRAM PAGE

olliebearman: i am a child WATCH HOW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT A CHILD

olliebearman: @charles_leclerc dad stop her now

charles_leclerc: why are you pinging me during the press conference

olliebearman: this is important !!!!

charles_leclerc: @yourusername oh hi

yourusername: hello ???

kimiantonelli

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc and 590,300 others

tagged: yourusername

kimiantonelli: i thought getting points on my debut would be the craziest part of my week but turns out i have a half sister i never knew about ??? watch your back paddock i don’t think you can handle TWO antonellis

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user12: wait so that trainwreck the other day was REAL?

user13: smile and wave girl i have no clue what’s going on

user14: we need a weekly episode of drive to survive at this point omg

yourusername: we haven’t even met yet

yourusername: i am very excited to

kimiantonelli: OF COURSE WE SHOULD BE EXCITED

kimiantonelli: i knew you were out there i could feel you in my waters

yourusername: i’m not sure you have waters? like anatomically?

kimiantonelli: well i knew you existed before your post so explain that atheist

yourusername: i’m just going to let you have this one i think…

kimiantonelli: that is VERY wise

user15: i am losing my mind over the fact that these kids are talking for the first time in instagram comments

user16: i honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from this crop of rookies

jackdoohan: please do not lump me in with this nonsense

kimiantonelli: so our family love is nonsense to you

yourusername: jack!!!! after everything …. i can’t believe this!

jackdoohan: we’ve never spoken before?

yourusername: well in my familial research i watched the rookie round table and you ranked highly to me… but i see

jackdoohan: wOAH PAUSE

jackdoohan: my apologies

kimiantonelli: they all come crawling back …

user17: what is actually happening?

user18: so like has anyone stalked this girl? who even is she?

olliebearman: y/n y/ln is a 26-year-old marketing manager who lives in london. she runs a pasta-themed instagram account to apparently page homage to her ‘italian heritage’. she has no kids and no boyfriend or girlfriend. by most accounts she doesn’t have many friends or hobbies or money?

kimiantonelli: that’s like… kinda hot?

yourusername: you do you i guess

yourusername: also like that’s such a rude write up on me ???

olliebearman: so you don’t think i’m hot

kimiantonelli: that’s SO rude y/n

yourusername: you’re EIGHTEEN??? and also have this weird tension with my brother… idk i’m not a therapist?

olliebearman: i’ll call my dad again

yourusername: oh the one from the other post? please! i think he’s the best thing i found on my f1 stalkfest

charles_leclerc: well well well, i’m charles

olliebearman: NO?

kimiantonelli: ollie you gotta let her have something!

olliebearman: but if she falls for his dorky charms that might make us incestuous ???

kimiantonelli: i don’t know what that word means

olliebearman: my dad, dating your sister?

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc you have to disown ollie now

charles_leclerc: okay, if i do that does that mean i can take y/n on a date

yourusername: DO IT NOW PLEASE

yourusername: woah! i mean, i’ll have to check my calendar

yourbff: she’s free, the lanky one was right, she doesn’t have many friends.

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,209,457 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: lost a son and won a date. congrats on the promotion oscar!

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user19: we are moving so fucking fast

user20: well it’s on theme…

user21: well we need to go from rb19 to that fucking aston martin

yourusername: as far as first dates go … well i didn’t think we’d be babysitting a 23-year-old

charles_leclerc: he’s fragile right now

yourusername: and he needed his emotional support not-boyfriend there as well?

yourusername: and that emotional support not-boyfriend needed to bring his friend who brought his maybe-boyfriend who brought his ‘surrogate brother’ which is MY BROTHER?

charles_leclerc: i’m sorry?

yourusername: i’m starting to think attachment issues and homosexual tension is just part of the job description to work in formula one

alexalbon: i don’t think you’re wrong on that

charles_leclerc: honestly i did plan for just a romantic dinner but things came up!

oscarpiastri: well i’m kind of sorry for crashing your date but as previously stated i was in a crisis…

yourusername: you did cry… but i thought that was just to get charles to get you dessert?

oscarpiastri: you can’t prove that…

oscarpiastri: ALSO why are you just coming for me when the others crashed and without a good reason like me?

yourusername: true ….

landonorris: i was taken by oscar !!!!! not my fault

yourusername: you made me move from my seat across from charles because you didn’t ‘like the lighting’?

landonorris: well that was very kind of you

charles_leclerc: you basically sat on her until she moved

landonorris: well maybe you should have stood up for your date!

georgerussell63: considering how badly lando is digging his grave, i’ll just say sorry and that i wasn’t completely aware it was a date

yourusername: how was it not very obvious? we were at a CANDLE LIT DINNER WITH A TWO PERSON TABLE YOU DRAGGED OVER A TABLE TO SIT WITH US

alexalbon: in our defence we were only going to escort kimi there but the curiosity got too much…

yourusername: are you just attaching to kimi because i’m not going to get annoyed at him

alexalbon: …….. um no?

kimiantonelli: y/n he brought me dessert and a funky little drink - MARRY HIM

yourusername: that’s a little fast buddy

charles_leclerc: so you wouldn’t marry me?

yourusername: take me on another date, just me, and we’ll see

user22: she’s stronger than me i would’ve proposed right here right now

user23: nothing more 2025 than an instagram comment proposal

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 23,091 others

tagged: kimiantonelli & charles_leclerc

yourusername: so who was going to tell me this f1 shit was this crazy?

view all comments

user24: actually thinking about it, this girl must be having such intense emotional whiplash

user25: legit because what do you mean like last week she didn’t know what f1 was but now she’s related to the best rated rookie and dating (?) charles leclerc

user26: when will these situations happen upon me

charles_leclerc: did i win you over this weekend?

yourusername: maybe?

charles_leclerc: maybe?

yourusername: okay, yeah

yourusername: but you could’ve let kimi through :/

charles_leclerc: that’s kinda not the game of the game

yourusername: but he’s my brother ?

charles_leclerc: you make a compelling point…

charles_leclerc: but, amor, i wouldn’t let my own brother overtake me

yourusername: i see…

yourusername: it was worth a try sorry kimi

kimiantonelli: fear not we can try again when he’s more in love with you

yourusername: for everyone’s information: i do genuinely like charles, this ^^ is a joke !!!!!!! i understand the sanctity of formula one and that no one would genuinely let another through based on such a situation

kimiantonelli: okay miss PR AND MARKETING

yourusername: oh buddy you should see my DMs, that was necessary

charles_leclerc: what ???

yourusername: babe your fans are great but like a good 5% of them are like genuinely insane, like 51/50 level

charles_leclerc: oh yeah… i’m sorry

yourusername: oh no worries i’d be just that crazy for you

charles_leclerc: you aren’t?

yourusername: i don’t need to be, i have you don’t i?

charles_leclerc: oh hehehehhehehehe, you do

user27: WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN

user28: i’m scared of her, but i need to be her

user29: you can’t be that good at making pasta and have rizz and date charles leclerc

user30: i fear y/n might actually be sniped, she’s a triple threat

oscarpiastri: do you see why i needed emotional support?

yourusername: well yes i get that now

yourusername: but please refrain from crashing dates in the future unless you have let us know promptly

oscarpiastri: i knew i’d get you on side, the leclerc family love me

oscarpiastri: @kimiantonelli watch out, i might overtake you next

kimiantonelli: i will slash your tyres, y/n will bail me out

yourusername: will i?

kimiantonelli: so you don’t love me?

olliebearman: I TOLD YOU SHE WAS NO GOOD

yourusername: first of all, ollie - i thought i’d managed to get you on side with my offering of pasta. second, i love you the most on the grid kimi, i just do not have the disposable cash of a formula one driver

kimiantonelli: fine, you make a point

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc looks like it’s down to you now.

kimiantonelli: and you’d do anything for my sister, right?

charles_leclerc: ugh why are the rookies so crafty these days

yourusername: hmmmm?

charles_leclerc: YES I WOULD, FOR YOU

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,894,500 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: follow wherever the roots may take you, because sometimes it might lead you to the best thing ever

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user31: i mean meeting your girlfriend through her doing an ancestry test to find out she’s related to your coworker is one hell of a meet cute i’ll give them that

user32: ‘wherever the roots may take you’ okay mr leclerc when did we become a poet

user33: let’s add it to the words of wisdom

user34: the ferrari garage WISHES they could be him

kimiantonelli: well, i am pleasantly surprised with how this all unfolded, you’re definitely the best choice on the grid

yourusername: awwwww kimi thanks !!!

charles_leclerc: thanks?

olliebearman: CHARLES IS THE BEST CHOICE ON THE GRID ????

kimiantonelli: you want to date my sister? i thought you liked another antonelli?

olliebearman: oh!

olliebearman: yes!

olliebearman: … another antonelli for sure

charles_leclerc: @yourusername do i say anything

yourusername: no i want to watch ollie suffer after he’s done nothing but come for me

charles_leclerc: okay, amor

user35: this is how all men should be

user36: AGREE WITH EVERYTHING I SAY

user37: so like… where do we find them because i fear there’s only two ferrari drivers and many of us

yourusername: well i am certainly glad i followed mine

charles_leclerc: led you right to me

yourusername: wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehe i guess i have that effect on people

yourusername: PEOPLE?

charles_leclerc: just you xxxxx

yourusername: that’s what i thought

charles_leclerc: speaking of you… when can you come to another race?

yourusername: i’m very sorry to say babe but i do have a job

charles_leclerc: NOOOOOOOOOOO

yourusername: i know :( i don’t dream of labour

charles_leclerc: what do you dream of?

yourusername: there’s this really sexy monegasque formula one driver who has an amazing accent and the cutest little dog. he’s super determined and sounds even sexier when he’s angry on the radio or celebrating a win. you might know him?

charles_leclerc: i might…

yourusername: well you should BACK OFF because he’s MINE

charles_leclerc: yes, yes he is

user38: so like … how do we get her on drive to survive

yourusername: oh you know netflix have been calling my phone

user39: LETS GOOOOOOO

yourusername: don’t celebrate too soon, because you won’t like me when i delete all the cute footage of charles, that’s for my eyes only

user40: i would want you dead, but also real

lewishamilton: ummmmm so when can you come back @yourusername he’s being pathetic again

yourusername: he’s always pathetic that’s what i love about him

lewishamilton: but it’s particularly bad now, he’s carrying a picture of you and leo (it’s VERY badly photoshopped)

charles_leclerc: hey! joris was busy i had to make it myself

yourusername: that’s cute bby don’t listen to him

charles_leclerc: yeah leave me alone lewis

lewishamilton: what the hell, sure

fin.

note: if you couldn't tell i'm a big kimi stan LMAO

[reignpage]

♛ Sukuna in Wonderland ♛

"W e ' r e a l l m a d h e r e"

Synopsis: a quest to search for a cursed item in a new world isn't all sunshine and rainbows — you're learning that the hard way. you just want to find what you need to find and get out of here asap. but the mystical universe must hate you because you've been paired with the biggest pain your ass: the one person that can show you up on a test or experiment. well, you won't let him get his way this time. But one question...why is everything in this place freaky? Warnings: 18+ porn with plot, fantasy au, Hogwarts-esque magic system, academic rival!sukuna, mixed with some comedy (there's a lot of self-awareness here), forced proximity, hate sex, exhibitionism, degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, pussy inspection, personification of the puss puss, dumbification, unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation, voyeurism, sex whilst inebriated - dubcon, doggy, cockwarming, slight food play, anal sex, barely proofread Word Count: 17.2k

“Walk faster,” he spits. 

You roll your eyes.

There is nothing worse than being stuck with Ryomen Sukuna for an inter-dimensional quest. Truly. 

When Professor Yaga had breached the news to you, in his office, your jaw dropped. There was absolutely no conceivable way your Intro to Exploration partner is Sukuna. The man is a monster. Truly. He stole your position on Advanced Illusions by burning your application paper, he tripped you up on the Grand Foyer, humiliating you in front of all your peers, and he calls you ‘princess’ in lieu of your actual name. 

He’s the worst. 

“Y/n, he’s your partner and that’s that,” the Professor said. 

Spluttering, you tried to reason with him. “B-but sir! I’ve been looking forward to this trip the whole year — no, all my life! I worked so hard to accumulate enough points on my Exploration licence. I need someone I can trust. Someone who won’t get in the way.”

Your pleadings were falling into deaf ears. The Professor merely sighed and conjured a journal. It fell onto the wooden desk with a mocking thump. 

“Your petty rivalry ceases here.” Leaning forward on his elbows, he fixed you a steady glare. It was so serious, so insistent, you zipped your lips tight. 

“Underland is a Grade A dimension. A place unlike any other. Everything works differently there, and you will indubitably face tasks so dangerous you will either give up your hopes of studying Exploration altogether or you will emerge as the greatest Exploration pupil I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. But all of that depends on whether you can rise to the occasion with the most difficult of partners.”

“B-but…”

That was nice to hear and all. However, you weren’t convinced. Sure, you had been sure to earn enough points to take on the advanced quests because they looked great on applications, but the ‘Underland’ place didn’t sound like anything special. In fact, when you and the others in your class had been briefed by the students in the year above who had gone through the same trial, you didn’t hear any talks about Underland.

You were worried that the dimension you’ve been assigned to was a dud. Just great. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna to your left was more interested in messing with some first year he had spotted, through the window, crossing the meadow. He was using a basic incantation to make the papers fly out of his satchel and scattering it all over the grass. 

Typical. 

When he sensed your judgmental gaze, he leisurely looked back at you, hooded eyes unimpressed even as he flicks his finger around, ensuring those papers continue to flutter in the air and out of the grasp of that poor first year. And then he raised his brow in challenge and drawled, “See something you like, princess?”

You didn’t dare look at him the whole two hours you were there. 

“As you know very well, much is riding on you providing a great performance and returning with the enchanted item. If you want to do a master’s on Exploration and then go on to become an Explorer of the Great Beyond, you will do your best to put aside your petty grievances with Mr. Ryomen, yes?”

Dejected, you nodded reluctantly. 

“Now, please, exert your energy on seeing through this quest. As you know, grades are awarded based on speed and efficiency, among other things. So do be sure to spend less time arguing with your partner and more time seeking out your assigned item. What was it again?”

In a sullen tone, you answered, “A cursed finger.”

“Ah, yes. An ancient and powerful relic. That was my assigned item many, many years ago now. And the faculty have, once again, gone through great lengths to ensure it’s been carefully hidden in Underland to really challenge our top students, so you’ll have your work cut out for you,” he remarked humorously. 

“Great.”

Seemingly pleased enough, the journal flew into the air, whizzing across the room and out the door. Your time was up, and your fate was decided. 

Halfway out of the door, Professor Yaga gave one last musing. “As wonderful as it is to follow instructions to the letter, I do hope Mr. Ryomen’s innovative thinking will rub off on you, just as your discipline will rub off on him. Let it not be wishful thinking, y/n.”

And now here you are. 

Walking through some forest in a new world, wondering where the hell the portal had placed you. From the description the Student Advisors had given you, Underland was much more colourful and interesting than this. Where are the talking animals and the sentient inanimate objects?

“Are we in the right place?” You ask. 

It’s been quite some time now and you’re ashamed to admit that your calves are burning ever so slightly; you ought to exercise more. On the other hand, Sukuna walks ahead of you, hands shoved in his pockets, and not looking the least bit exhausted. It’s as if you’re on two different journeys — you’re trekking somewhere dangerous, mysterious, a place that’s pushing your body to its limits (more or less), and the arrogant dick is taking a lovely stroll down Genesis Park. 

He doesn’t answer your question. Of course not. Because why would he, the great king that he is, bother talking to you?

Prick. 

“Oh!”

Something furry brushes up against your calf. Two sets of eyes follow it. 

“Is that a fucking rat?”

Giving him a deadpan look, you shove him to the side to run after the strange creature, suddenly invigorated. “You’re such an annoying asshole. Hurry up. It might lead us to Underland.”

It is certainly unlike any animal you’ve seen back home. But, having studied all the known forms animals can take across the expansive universe, you aren’t distressed in the slightest to come across such a well-dressed little fella. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

Jogging beside you, your partner scoffs. “‘Excuse me, sir?’ Seriously?”

Merlin, why did it have to be him? 

The rabbit doesn’t slow down. Even as the two of you have caught up right behind him, weaving and meandering around trees and dodging logs and fallen branches. Instead, the little thing continues ahead, peering occasionally at a pocket-watch and muttering, ‘Oh, dear. Oh, dear,’ repeatedly under its breath. 

“Damn. That is one stressed out rat.”

Rolling your eyes once more, you hiss, “It’s a rabbit, Sukuna. Stop fucking around. Try to catch its attention so we can ask it for directions.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re faster.” To punctuate your point, you pant. It’s a little embarrassing to be out of breath already, but in your defence, you’ve never had the time to join athletic clubs. 

Throwing you a look of judgement, likely because of your sweaty state, he jogs a little faster and manages to pick up the rabbit by its waistcoat. It dangles in the air making a face of complete alarm, and dare you say, insult. Sukuna only returns a look of revulsion. Clearly not a fan of animals. Great. 

“How dare you! Put me down at once.”

Snorting, your partner shakes him around. “Nah. Not until you tell us how to get to Underland.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” the rat— the rabbit mutters. It continues to check its watch in between looking around frantically and attempting to wriggle out of its captor’s grip with no such luck. “Let me go. I cannot be late! The Duchess needs her gloves! Oh! And her fan. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!”

Sukuna fixes you a stare of amusement and says with a smirk, “You didn’t happen to bring dried serenitea powder, did you? ‘Cause this guy could really use some.”

With your lungs full of air once more, you attempt to get somewhere with the local. It’s important that you don’t disrupt the system in any of the places you visit. That’s Section two, Article A of the Harmonious Entry Act. Of course, interacting with the world is permitted but explorers must be respectful at all times. The pink haired guy clearly didn’t get the memo. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n. We’re truly sorry to trouble you. But we really do need directions to Underland so if you could point the way, then we can all go our separate ways.”

The rabbit seems to like you better because he stops wriggling and says, “Oh! I suspect we are heading to the same place. Although we don’t really call it Underland— Oh, never mind. I don’t have time to discuss this any longer. Please put me down and follow me. We must go at once!”

And so, you and your quest partner run with your new friend through the forest and to a large tree. He doesn’t say anything else to you, he simply tumbles faster and adjusts his waistcoat sporadically, long ears twitching in an adorable way. At the tree, there’s a hole. And before you can process what was happening, he’s running inside without so much as a look back. 

“Hey! Wait!”

He doesn’t.

And he’s gone.

The hole is quite big. It’s just about big enough for Sukuna to fit through if he crawls but judging by the look on his face, he’s not exactly eager to get his clothes dirty so soon into the trip. You’re both wearing your uniforms — he wears a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, of course, with a tie and under a lilac jumper, with the deep purple St. Eden blazer hanging off his shoulders. You wear the same on top but with a purple, pink and cream tartan skirt whereas he has on plain cream trousers. 

Being of standard practice, it’s always been important to proudly represent St. Eden on every school sanctioned trip out of its grounds. Sure, it might be wasted on people from worlds that don’t know of St. Eden’s existence, or of any planes of reality beyond their own, but the sentiment is still quite nice. 

You are a student of the finest academy of mystical arts there ever was and there ever will be. The uniform reflects that, which is why you’re just as unenthusiastic about dirtying your clothes as Sukuna is, but you know quite a few enchantments you can use to rid yourself of the inevitable mess; returning to Genesis all filthy would be sufficiently humiliating, after all. 

“Ladies first.” Gulping, you ignore his challenging look, and steel yourself. This is what it means to be an explorer: being dauntless. Anything for the quest, for your dreams and ambitions. 

“Just don’t look up my skirt,” you mutter. 

He scoffs. “Get over yourself. Actually, I’ll go first. Your arrogance is so confounding, I’m irritated.”

If there’s danger in the hole, better he faces it first, you think. So, you don’t fight him on that.

Inside, it’s just as you suspected: a long, hollow tunnel, all dark and seemingly endless. Hearing Sukuna grumble under his breath is quite entertaining, you have to admit. The man was always angry. Even when he was with his friends walking down the hallways, eating in the dining hall, or loitering in the meadows, he was always frowning as if the world had done him some great injustice. 

The only times you ever saw him smile were when he was tormenting someone, whether it be a student, a teacher, or you. 

“Hey, there’s a fucking hole in a hole, watch—“

Shit. 

You bumped your head against his ass. He disappears down a sudden dip in the tunnel. A hole within a hole, just as he said. You grimace, waiting for that telltale thud to echo. It doesn’t. Actually, the only thing you hear is an elongated, ‘you fucking cunt.’

Whoops. 

Trying to stifle your laughter, you fall in headfirst, muttering an enchantment to cushion your fall. Hopefully — or not, either is fine — Sukuna remembered to do the same. 

Oddly, you realise, either this well of sorts is very deep or you’re falling very slowly. Because you find plenty of time to look around your surroundings even with your clothes flying around and you have to hold your skirt down, praying he’s too far down to look up and see something he shouldn’t. The sides of the well are filled with cupboards and bookshelves, there are maps and pictures hung upon pegs. You swear you even see a jar labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’ but it’s empty. 

What is going on?

Who could have possibly hung those up? And why? Was there a larger purpose to it all? It surely can’t be for tourists if none of the displayed items are for sale. There’s no dust you can see so this passage must be used often, just as those books are. 

How big is this planet? Is it small enough to fall right through and end up in an infinite void? No, surely, it’ll get hotter as you near the core, right? You can always drink a protection tonic from your enchanted satchel to be sure, but you don’t want to waste resources. 

You couldn’t find anything about this place in the textbooks. No history, no accounts from other explorers, and certainly nothing about how to actually get into Underland.

Or maybe this isn’t a way in at all!

Maybe the rabbit was so peeved about the indignation he suffered at the hands of Sukuna that he tricked you both. Are people of this land so petty? 

You’ve heard of places where people didn’t lie or harm each other. Why couldn’t Underland be such a place?

Down, down, down you go. There’s nothing else to do but ponder all possibilities. It’s likely you’ve failed the task already. You were rude to a local and now you’re being punished. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault. He takes everything from you. He’s even taken this from you. 

“Oh!”

You fall on a huge heap of sticks and dry leaves. The fall is over. Thankfully the enchantment worked well, and you aren’t the least bit hurt. Sukuna stands above you, brushing leaves from his clothes, even more pissed than before. He glares at you. 

“Thanks for literally kissing my ass. Had a great time falling, by the way.” 

Ignoring him, you look around the place. The rabbit’s no longer anywhere to be seen. And you’ve found yourself in a low hall, lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the ceiling. It reminds you somewhat of the halls of St. Eden. There are doors all-round the hall and when you begin muttering a door-opening spell, you’re interrupted by a scoff. 

“Don’t bother. I already checked. They’re all locked.”

“Did you check that, though?”

He follows your pointing finger to a three-legged table at the end of the hallway. Upon closer inspection, you see it’s made of solid glass and there’s nothing on it except a tiny, golden key. Flicking a finger, you lift the key up and attempt to slot it into every lock but to no avail. They were either too large or too small.

“That wasn’t there before” Sukuna asserts, still slightly annoyed. “Neither was that.”

There, a couple metres away, is a curtain, which you agree, wasn’t there before. You know by the tilt of his head that he thinks this place is weird. You’re inclined to agree. Behind the curtain is a door and the key slots in perfectly. You share a smile with him, which drops barely even a second later. He clears his throat. 

Kneeling on the floor, you look through that small door and see a garden. It’s lovely with beds of bright flowers and fountains. It’s not as great as any green space in Genesis but it’s better than this miserable dark hall. 

Sighing, you stand up. “We can’t fit through that. Do you remember any enlargement spells? I didn’t bring a biggening tonic ‘cause the Student Advisors didn’t say to.”

He fixes you a blank stare. Oh, right. He’s not even carrying anything with him. Classic. 

What was he even thinking venturing to a foreign place without any of the recommended items? Not a vial of invisibility, a language-adapting elixir, Grimoire of Spells All Travellers Need Volume I to VI, not even a bottle of water. He’s useless. And to think Professor Yaga genuinely believed he has something to teach you. Please. 

“Quit judging me, prissy princess. I don’t need textbooks. Everything I need is in my head. And in any case, look. There’s something on the table. And it wasn’t there before. What kind of fucked up magic system do they have here? Shit’s just appearing out of nowhere for no goddamn reason.” 

You pay his grumbling no mind.

On the table, is a little bottle. Around its neck is a paper label with the words ‘DRINK ME’ written quite beautifully. And on the back, in small writing, appears to be instructions. “It says, ‘To get out, drink this. Share with your companion.’”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening. If I get food poisoning, I’m gonna kill everyone here.”

Hissing, you argue, “That’s not funny, Sukuna. We have no choice since you didn’t bring anything.”

“Well, then, by all means, go fucking ahead.”

The Explorer’s Guide to Otherworldly Travel advises against consuming food from unfamiliar places. One, they may not sit well in your stomachs, and two, they could be poisoned; not all places deal well with foreign interference. 

Well, anyways, down the hatch it goes.

“Woah, don’t actually drink it, idiot,” he chastises you, but it’s too late. In one pour, it’s in your mouth. All of it. Your eyes are wide. You hadn’t meant to drink the whole thing. Thank Merlin you didn’t swallow immediately. “Good going, idiot. Now what?”

Muffled, you make sounds of panic and attempt to say through a mouthful of the mysterious drink, “Quick. Do something.”

All you see is an eye roll and a frustrated brush of his hair before he smashes his face to yours. You’re taken aback by the feel of his firm hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you still, and even more shocked by the softness of his lips. That softness disappears instantly, however, when his tongue plunges inside your mouth and the drink pools from yours to his. 

He pulls away, swallowing, and sees the wideness of your eyes. Grunting, he mutters something to himself before you feel his tongue lick up the errant drop of juice on your chin. 

Your lips tingle. And then they stop when he hastily wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. 

The drink doesn’t burn and you’re not feeling odd. It tastes quite nice, actually. Like a mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast. Oddly, you want more. 

“Fuck.”

You look up at Sukuna. And you blink. The hall had grown. The table is metres tall and the door to the garden is suddenly big enough to get through. No, wait. You’re smaller. So is he. 

You’ve shrunk. 

“This is weird as hell.”

Sukuna suddenly laughs. And it’s a sound you’re completely repulsed by. You’ve only ever heard him laugh like that when he was making someone’s life miserable, and so to hear it in any other context is off-putting. Especially as your lips continue to tingle.

Silently, you make a note to yourself — drinks in Underland can resemble potions in Genesis, where they have the ability to transform the body into something else. You do wonder, however, how things appear out of nowhere with seemingly no conjurer in sight. Energy is transferred and controlled; it doesn’t have a mind of its own. This place is growing curiouser and curiouser by the minute.

Now, just to get out of this place. 

“Shit. The key.”

Shooting you a mocking look, your quest partner walks ahead to the door and fishes out something from his pocket. “Relax. Wasn’t dumb enough not to hold onto it. Come on. We gotta find that damn finger. And the faster the better. I’m already growing tired of this damn place.”

And out of the darkness you left. 

——————

“We’re lost.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. This place’s all turned around.”

For the past hour, you two had been wandering around yet another forest searching for —well, anything. And nothing is what you’ve stumbled upon. As interesting as the different coloured leaves are, you can’t spend your time appreciating the forage. 

With every passing moment you sense Sukuna getting more and more irritated. He walks a brisk pace ahead of you, and all your attempts to catch up and stroll beside him are ignored in favour of walking faster. You knew the guy couldn’t stand you, but this is just another level. Everything about him is so unprofessional. For one, his shirt is untucked, and his hair is all roughed up and messy. Two, he curses far too often by anyone’s standards. And three, he can’t even pretend to get along with you for the sake of this quest. 

There’s no way you’re going to maintain your perfect record of A’s and it’ll all be because of the arrogant prick. The one consolation you have is that he’s coming down with you on your fall. 

“I can’t sense the finger’s cursed energy at all,” you mutter, slightly anxious. 

He side-eyes you and then shoves his hands in his trousers. “Relax. Quests, on average, take a week to complete. Of course, if we could complete it in much less, that’d be ideal but we’re not in a rush right now.”

“I know that. Don’t mansplain this to me.”

The eye roll he gives you is especially scathing. Typical. You two only ever seemed to look at each other just to exercise your eyes a little. Even when your gazes meet across a lecture hall one would make a face and the other scowls. It’s routine. You’ve long since convinced yourself to not let it bother you, but you won’t lie, many nights have been spent scouring the archives for a spell on how to swap someone’s asshole for their mouth. 

In the distance, there’s a clearing and a house. 

You smack him in the chest. He groans. “I fucking saw it. You didn’t need to hit me, idiot.”

On the door of the neat little house is a bright brass plate with the name “W. Rabbit,” engraved upon it. Sharing a look, you know you’ve both come to the same conclusion: you might just run into a familiar face.

Raising a hand to knock, you hear a scoff before the door’s being spelled open and Sukuna pushes past you. Even in a different dimension, he’s still a bitch. You don’t even bother to tell him off for trespassing, it seems he’d been looking forward to terrorising the inhabitants of this world long before he stepped foot here. 

“You don’t think the professors hid the finger here, do you?”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually replies, “Nah. Too easy. This is a Grade S plane and we’re advanced students. It would never be this straightforward. I reckon they’re trying to lead us around, encouraging us to become one with nature or some shit.”

Can’t argue with that. 

“So why are we here? It’s not like the rabbit’s home; we can’t ask him if he’s noticed anything out of the ordinary recently.”

Admiring the paintings on the wall, Sukuna’s response comes out a little distracted when he says, “We need a map, idiot. We can’t just keep walking everywhere hoping for the best.”

Flustered over him one-upping you, you don’t entertain his callous tone and instead you walk around. The little house is nice. It’s cozy and homely. Somewhat messy and untidy but you aren’t really surprised considered how neurotic the rabbit appeared upon first meeting, the poor thing. 

You find yourself in a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves. This must have been what the rabbit was looking for but if they’re still here that means you beat him to it. Where had he gone that two outsiders would stumble upon his home faster than he would himself?

“What’s this?”

There, near a looking-glass, is a bottle. It’s similar to the one in the hallway with all the doors but this one doesn’t have a label with the words ‘DRINK ME’ and instructions. Guess this one isn’t for drinking. Or maybe it is?

Maybe this is a trick. 

What if the professors had placed these odd concoctions here? It can’t possibly be a coincidence that two drinks would appear all perfectly bottled after all, right?

Biting your lip, you contemplate what to do with it. It’s a terrible risk to take but it could pay off. It’d be great if you could get a leg up over Sukuna, even if you succeed together as partners, if he somehow found the cursed finger before you, you’d never be able to live with yourself. You just can’t let him have any more justifications for his arrogance. 

Fuck it.

Uncorking it, you put the rim to your lips and smell. There’s no immediate suspicious scent, like the bitter smell of poison. That’s a good sign. You know something interesting is sure to happen whenever you drink anything here, so you’ll just have to see what this bottle does. You hope it’ll make you large again, because even though you’ve only just adjusted to the world here, you’re quite tired of being such a tiny little thing. 

Maybe you can even step on Sukuna and pass it off as an accident. 

The thought makes you smile. And without even thinking, you’ve already drunk half the bottle. 

Watching your limbs, you wait for a change to occur. Nothing happens. You haven’t grown taller or shorter. Slightly disappointed, you place the bottle back down and stagger to a window. 

“It’s hot in here,” you mutter. 

You’re a little dizzy and out of breath. It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room and when you push the panes out, you take desperate gulps of air. 

“Fuck are you up to?” Unsurprised by his sudden appearance, you don’t turn. Instead, you continue to pant. You feel itchy everywhere. “Oi, don’t ignore me.”

Quiet mumblings come out of your mouth.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You’re panting like a damn dog.”

Prick. 

“Shit, did you drink that? You’re a fucking idiot. What kind of logic are you operating under? Are you trying to sabotage us? No, wait, ha! You were trying to sniff out a clue, weren’t you? What’d you think was gonna happen? You’d find the finger all by yourself and then ditch me? Nice fucking try.”

He never shuts up, but you can’t tell him to shove his accusations, accurate as they are, up his ass. Head thumping against the wood, you grip the windowpane tight, fearful you’ll fall over. You’re not yourself right now. The drink did something to you. 

A hand presses itself to your forehead. It’s hot and your lashes flutter. “Fuck. Talk to me.”

“Mary Ann! Mary Ann! Fetch me my gloves this moment!” Light pattering of feet can be heard on the stairs. Through the haze of your sudden light-headedness, you know it to be the rabbit, though you know not who this ‘Mary Ann’ is. You tremble. 

The pattering is inside the room and an aghast sound reaches your ears. Sukuna gathers you up in his arms, grunting when your head lolls to his chest. He smells like sin, and you hate it. 

“W-what are you doing here? Goodness, this is my home! I say, get out this instant.”

Darkly, your partner asserts, “Not happening until you tell me what the fuck that drink was and why she’s like this.”

“You drank that? Oh, dear. W-well, that is not my concern. You wandered in here and did as you please. It is your fault. Now leave. Please, old fellow.”

Dropping even lower, you barely recognise Sukuna’s voice. “You didn’t hear me? If you don’t fix her, I’ll roast you on a spit and chew you up.”

What is he even saying? He can’t do that. It’s illegal. He’d be shunned from St. Eden and by the whole of Genesis. Oh, right. He’s bluffing. You laugh against his jumper. He sure does sound convincing. 

“My! You must withhold your threats. You needn’t be so angry. Your friend, Y/n, if I remember correctly, will be just fine…eventually.”

“How long is eventually?”

The rabbit makes some noise you can’t decipher, and he coyly answers, “Two weeks or so.” And then he splutters, gasps and coughs. “Put me down! Ah! No, good fellow, you must calm down! She can be cured faster!”

You sure do hope Sukuna isn’t misusing his abilities to literally shake out the information he wants out of the poor thing, but you know, without looking, that’s exactly what he’s doing. This can’t possibly be what Professor Yaga meant by ‘innovative thinking.’ Or if it was, then you seriously need to consider idolising another teacher.

Without needing further prompting, the rabbit mumbles the secret. You don’t hear it, but you do hear the door click shut and an abrupt swear word hiss out of Sukuna’s mouth. He throws you down on an armchair and kneels down.

“What’re you doing?” You slur.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he reluctantly makes eye contact with you. “The rat said the effects wear off once your limbs tense up and you shake out the numbness in your body. Shit doesn’t fucking make sense but nothing in this goddamn place does so, do you consent or what?”

Firm hand gripping your knee, he parts your thighs. Heat rises up your face and you can’t argue with him — you don’t even have the energy to kick him in the face for alluding something so ridiculous. There’s no way he’s suggesting the cure is an orgasm, is he?

“N-no,” you breathe out, “we can’t.”

Grunting, he reminds you, “We have to. We can’t wait two weeks. That’ll be way too late, and we’ll fail the fucking quest. And that’s if your body is anything like theirs. It could take longer and I’m not staying here longer than I have to. So, you gonna let me make you cum or you just gonna fuck up our grades?”

This is crazy. 

“I’ll do it myself. Get out.”

Sukuna blows frustrated air out of his nose and brushes his hair back. He’s growing impatient. Snatching an arm up, he waves the limp limb in front of your face. It flails embarrassingly. 

“You can’t do shit in this state. Don’t be difficult. Let’s just get this over with.”

“F-fine,” you acquiesce and then hurriedly add, “but just your hand, okay?”

And that is all he needs. 

Through the haze, you feel cold air blow over your core when your panties are pulled off your legs. There isn’t even any time for embarrassment before long fingers are pushing your slit apart and a thumb is circling your clit with expert navigation. 

“Talk me through it. Tell me how you like your pussy played with.”

Why does he sound like that? 

Raspy and with a chocolatey smooth timbre, you can’t focus on your breathing when you can feel the vibrations of his words on your skin. Everything is constrained — your clothes feel suffocating, your body is heavy, and his spare hand is keeping your legs wide open. He can see everything and there isn’t a hint of shame on his face when he leans in closer and presses down harder on your clit. 

You moan. 

“Like that. I like it like that.”

“Yeah?”

Humming, you watch him watch you. 

His heated gaze slides from between your legs to your eyes, searching for any sign that this is working, that the extra gravity on your body will go away and you’ll go back to normal. And you can feel it working too. Can feel your fingers twitch, aching to grip his wrist and urge him away or to go faster, you can’t tell anymore.

A grunt leaves his lips. “You’re fucking soaked. You think you ready to take my fingers?”

No answer comes from you, only a whimper. And that is good enough for him, so he shoves two fingers inside, to the hilt, and wastes no time in curling them against that soft spot inside you.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right.” He laughs, breathlessly. “You’re crazy tight. You always like this or is that the damn drink?”

In and out and in and out. Sukuna is pumping his fingers inside of you, feeling your ridges and thumbing your clit. They feel great, even when you wish they didn’t. They’re long and nimble, but thick and filling. Manoeuvring inside your pussy as if they’ve been there before, as if it’s their second home, moans are being wrenched out of you.

“Watch the nails, idiot.”

Your eyes open — you didn’t even realise they had shut— and you notice your hand has loosened enough to clutch his wrist, digging into his skin, and pulling him closer. So so so close. Just a little more. Just one more push and you’ll be rid of the adverse effects of the stupid drink. 

“You’re much more tolerable with your pretty pussy plugged than when you’re free to nag my ear off,” he mutters.

And you cum. 

——————

“Those are some fuck ass mushrooms.”

They are, indeed. But you don’t voice your agreement. In fact, since walking away from that little house and that very angry rabbit, you haven’t said a word to him at all. You don’t even look at him. 

You can’t.

What transpired in that house was wrong. Completely wrong. It was unprofessional, unethical, and shameful. To think, you had been so competitive that you drank some unknown drink just to get ahead was one thing. To have made your expedition partner finger you to completion?

Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.

Not that Sukuna seems to mind — he’s acting like normal. He snarked about how weird this world was, how the sandwiches you packed are shit and he misses the canteen food on campus (he still ate it all), and he made fun of you when you tripped over a rock. You’re a little hurt, but you don’t dare dwell on that for too long. 

Now, you two are staring at large mushrooms, about the same height as you are, all different, with wacky colours and more importantly, you’re staring at a gigantic caterpillar by your world’s standards, and you have to remind yourself it isn’t that the creatures here are big but rather that you have grown small. 

The caterpillar, oddly, is sitting on top of a mushroom, a pair of arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and not taking the faintest notice of either of you or of anything else. 

“Is that a chain-smoking worm? Fushiguro owes me money, ha.” Sukuna sounds quite pleased.

Then, when its eyes met yours, it took the hookah out of its mouth and addresses you in a languid, sleepy voice. “Who are you?”

“Hi, sir,” You begin nervously, “we’re travellers from another world, you see.”

“No, I don’t see,” says the caterpillar. 

You meet Sukuna’s amused stare. He’s content to let you take the reins on this one, clearly. Merlin, he’s useless. “I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly, especially not when we’ve had quite the day; it’s all been so very confusing.”

“It isn’t.”

Frowning, you try again. “I assure you; it has been. But that is neither here nor there. We’d just like to ask if you’ve noticed anything strange. Maybe other travellers like us? Or an odd energy about the place? A finger more specifically.”

“A finger? I have many. We all have fingers.”

Sukuna snorts. You feel heat rise to your face. And he finally steps in. 

“Listen, forget whatever she just said. Tell us how to get bigger. Being like three inches tall is a pain.”

The caterpillar rears itself upright and says angrily, “Three inches is a very good height to be!”

Okay, so clearly, you’re not going to get anywhere with the worm— caterpillar. At least not with those two being argumentative creatures. So, stepping in between them, you ask, being sure to sound extra polite, “Are these mushrooms edible? They wouldn’t, by any chance, help in making us grow taller, would they?”

Calming down, the thing takes the hookah out of its mouth, yawns once or twice, and shook itself. It comes down from the mushroom and crawls away in the grass, remarking merely as it goes, “Eat. And eat from each other. You will grow. Or don’t and you won’t.”

But before you can ask what the hell he meant, it’s already out of sight. 

“Don’t fucking think about it,” Sukuna growls. “Eating shit clearly isn’t a good idea so don’t go chomping on mushrooms.”

“But we have to grow taller. You really think we can return to Genesis at this height?”

He shoves a hand through his hair. “You gonna trust a worm? Knew you weren’t all right in the head when you substituted silver-beetle for the bronze one in first year, but this is just another level of idiocy, seriously.”

“Merlin, shut up! I was trying something new. The textbook said it ‘recommends’ you use silver-beetle, but it never said to only use silver-beetle. I was trying to be innovative.”

You get an eyeroll. “That’s not your fucking style, is it? You’re a rule-follower, a goody-two-shoes. You don’t trial new things.”

“Yeah, not since then. When it quite literally blew up in my face and I was made the laughingstock of our potions class. But I was just…”

Regretting letting your emotions get the best of you before you say something undeservedly vulnerable, you shut your mouth. But your partner isn’t blind or stupid. He saw that. He heard it. And the guy is a pest. 

“Finish your sentence.” You press your lips tighter together. He steps into your space and when you don’t look at him, he grabs your face and smooshes your cheeks, glaring down at you. “You were just what?”

Words muffled, you reluctantly, and with a lot of shame and embarrassment, admit, “I just wanted to be more like you. You always try new things. Even back then. You did something different the week before. Using moonflower oil instead of nightbane and you were applauded for your so-called ‘genius.’ No one’s ever done that for me.”

Sukuna stays silent for a minute and then he groans. His hand, and his heat, leaves for just a second and then the next, something is being shoved in your mouth and once again, you’re ingesting something you really shouldn’t but there doesn’t seem to be any other choice. 

The mushroom doesn’t really taste of much and there aren’t any sudden changes. You watch him chew, observing his body for anything out of the ordinary and nothing. 

“If you feel off, even just a little, say something, alright?”

You nod. 

“I don’t feel different at all. Was he just messing with us? You don’t think he took actual offence to the height comment, do you?” 

Time is passing and you don’t have a clue whether Underland’s time and Genesis’ are compatible. What if a month and passed within a day here? 

Getting this quest done in a week gets you a C, getting it done within two days is an A, but finishing in a month or longer would be a fail. No, it’d be worse than a fail. You’ll be humiliated. All your chances of pursuing this as a career will be over before you could even really try. 

“Now what?”

Sukuna throws a glance at you and then he shrugs. “Guess we gotta keep moving. Can’t sense the finger here so we shouldn’t stick around too long. I’d ascend and scan the area for the direction but since I’m the size of a fucking pinkie, I’d use up more energy than I can afford.”

“Wait. The caterpillar said something about eating from each other, didn’t he?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t really listening.”

Ignoring that, you continue, “What’d you think he meant by that?”

“Cannibalism?” 

You shoot him an unimpressed look. That couldn’t have possibly been what he meant, and even if it was, the casual way in which he said that puts you on edge. Cannibalism is not a standard practice, it’s not a practice at all, except for maybe a few groups of people in the far reaches of the worl— No. Stop. Don’t entertain his ridiculous ideas. 

Think. 

The drink that made you small. The instructions had been similar. ‘Share with your companion.’ At first, you thought you made the mistake of taking too big a gulp, but you were sure you didn’t. You’d never be so stupid. And that led him to kiss you. You quite literally shared with your companion. And then the drink from the rabbit’s house. That slowly paralysed your body, and the cure was to push your muscles to its limits. 

No. It really was an orgasm. It wasn’t just one way to make your muscles tense, it was the way, that’s why the rabbit knew to leave and give you two space. 

In a world where things appear and disappear conveniently, things out of order actually do have purpose. None of it was a coincidence. 

“Sukuna.”

He kicks a mushroom absentmindedly and assesses the height from where he stands and all the way up to where he needs to be to get a clear picture of the land. “What?”

“You need to eat me out.”

There’s a pause. A palpable silence so thick it could be cut with a knife. If you listen closely enough, you’re sure you can hear the creaking of his neck as he slowly turns his head back towards you. There’s a look on his face you can’t quite decipher but you imagine it’s something similar to confusion, disbelief and a ‘you’re fucking kidding.’

“If you’re horny,” he begins, exasperation lacing his words like he’s talking to a child, “go deal with it yourself. I’m not your walking rattletoy.”

Shuffling on your feet, you reassert, “No, I’m serious. I think that’s what the caterpillar meant. He said we need to eat the mushrooms and then we need to eat from one another. Through some weird logic, I can only guess he means that to activate the enlargement effect of the mushrooms it must be ingested from bodily fluids.”

“No fucking way. That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Nothing in this world does!” You yell.

It isn’t like you want this to happen. This is humiliating beyond speech. When your friends ask how your first quest went down, you’re never going to be able to tell them the full truth. This will be a secret you take to your grave. And if you have to kill him once you get the finger to keep this shame a secret, you’ll do it without a moment’s thought.

Pinching his nose bridge, Sukuna growls out, “If I eat you out, I’ll grow faster and you won’t even be able to reach my fucking dick so you’ll stay that height. And I’m not gonna carry you around in my pocket whilst I do all the work.”

An idea comes to you. 

You grimace. “Well…”

“No. Absolutely fucking not.” He sees you inch closer to him, eyeing his belt and he steps back. “This is insane. Get the fuck away from my crotch.”

Once in his face, his body backed up against a mushroom leaving him nowhere to run, you whisper, embarrassed, “We have to try. We’ll be able to cover more ground when we’re bigger and we can’t afford to waste time. We have absolutely no clue where that cursed finger is and we’re at a loss, Sukuna. I need to complete this quest. So do you…please?”

“Ah, fuck.”

That’s all he says before you’re being pulled to the ground and flipped around. Facing the crotch you’d been eyeing before, you take this as a sign to unbuckle his belt, zip down his fly, and fish his cock out of his boxers. He’s big. Huge. It’s scary. 

Veins scale up his long length, leading you to his angry-red tip. And the carpet does not match the drapes. How interesting. But more than that…his cock is delicious looking. Something about it looks like it’d devour you whole instead of the other way around, and you lick your lips at the challenge.

A finger feels your slit through the gusset of your panties and a warm breath fan over it. You shiver. 

“Didn’t think I’d see her again,” he mutters.

Somewhat uncomfortable by this entire thing, you get to work. Licking a stripe from base to tip, you familiarise yourself with the smell, feel, and taste of him. He’s very musky in the best way. Like salt and danger. He’s rock-hard, hot and you need to lick him again. 

Not one to be shown up, Sukuna palms the globes of your ass from under your skirt and then flips it over. He wastes no time in diving forward just as those firm, calloused hands pull you down onto his face. Merciless lips suck at your clit through your soaked panties, making slurping sounds that you really do not want to be hearing. 

When you suckle on his tip, he hisses. “Go gently at first, idiot. Not a fucking lollipop. And put those hands to good use. Jerk me off and play with my balls.”

So fucking bossy. You have half a mind to tell him to get over himself but you need him to cum faster so you can get this over and done with. So, you fondle his heavy balls, venturing up and down his length with your hand as you hollow your cheeks and take as much of him as you can. 

“Fuck yeah. Always been a good student, haven’t you?”

As if to reward you, he pushes your panties to the side and feasts on your dripping cunt with no reservations. You can hear the shameless squelches he’s making, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, to embarrass you, to rub it in your face how wet you’ve gotten for him, for someone you supposedly hate.

“Look how sloppy you are. Ha!” He spreads your lips apart, blowing cool air right into your pulsing hole. “She wants my -hngh yeah keep going- fingers. Almost feel bad to tell her -ha- she can’t have it. N-need her to leak all her juices out so I can drink it up. Be a good girl and feed me good, yeah?”

Your legs lock around his head, shaky and sweaty. Sukuna is sucking your clit like a vacuum, using two fingers to spread your wetness around your inner thighs, painting them. And the way his big hands are digging into your flesh, claiming you, is driving you crazy. Your hips begin shaking, grinding itself on his mouth just as you bob your head up and down his cock, eager to make a mess of him too. 

“Sukuna! You’re being too -ngh!- rough” 

He snickers and the vibrations make your eyes roll back. “She likes it. Hear how wet she is?”

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

“Pussy tastes so good. So fucking sweet can’t believe it’s yours. Maybe you should be as nice as your cunt is to me. We’d get along much better.”

If you thought he was the worst before, now you think he’s a completely irredeemable bastard. He’s no gentleman. He doesn’t treat you with respect or care, he’s just using you as his personal entertainment. As if he can hear your thoughts and wants to prove you right, he braces himself and begins to fuck your throat just as his fingers thrust inside your wet canal. 

You’re being jostled around by his monstrous whims and there’s nothing you can do but hold on tight as you feel that tsunami of pleasure rising and rising. 

“Y’know,” he mutters, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, “no one -ha- applauds you for your -shit that’s good- g-genius ‘cause they just expect it from you, right? Don’t gotta have a -oh fuck your mouth’s tight- a-a complex over it. Don’t need to prove a thing. Just gotta cum. Can you do that? Can you be a good little princess and cum for me?”

Everyone knows you’re good at following instructions. 

Mere seconds apart, you both cum. Hot, salty cum laced with his magical essence floods your mouth. It burns its way down your bruised and battered throat until all you can see and hear is how good he sounds when he groans your name out. 

“Oh fuck! Sukuna!” He won’t stop lapping up your juices, thumbing your clit and shoving his fingers inside. Even through his orgasm, he’s dragging yours out, pulling waves and waves of pleasure from your body like he can’t get enough. “S-stop! No more!”

Overstimulated from his relentless sucking and licking, you climb off of him and fall down on the grass, cupping your poor pussy, still soaked and spasming. 

There, you both catch your breath. 

So delirious, you don’t even notice you’ve grown much taller, towering over the mushrooms and you’re back to your original size. That wasn’t supposed to be as good as it was. It wasn’t supposed to feel mind-blowing. And you really shouldn’t be wanting more. 

“Did you mean what you said? About me being smart?”

He’s the first to get up. “I may be a lot of things, all negative in your eyes I’m sure, but I’m not a liar. Meant it when I said you’re smart and you shouldn’t try so hard.”

You meet his gaze and something in your eyes must strike him deep because he scoffs and mumbles an enchantment, conjuring a handkerchief that gets to work between your legs. 

“Also meant it when I said your pussy’s sweet. You get an A from me. Should stop by my dorm whenever you’re bored.”

Aaaaaand he’s back.

You throw his handkerchief, all wet from your juices, in his face. Irritated by his arrogance, you fix your skirt and wipe the sweat from your forehead on your sleeve and then you fly yourself up, searching for the next place to go where the finger might be. 

This isn’t personal. This is just for the quest. He knows that and so do too.

——————

“I’m gonna rip your stupid fucking head off.”

Having seen a path along to a castle, you led your partner to where the gravel began and followed it up. It was on that very path that you ran into an odd creature. A cat with a grin so wide you were immediately put off. No words were exchanged but with just one look at each other, you knew better than to engage any further with the odd inhabitants of this curiouser and curiouser Underland. 

It would have been a great plan, meander and keep an eye out for anything odd, any sign that your teachers had been here, looking for an appropriate place to hide the finger, except…

The damn cat kept following you. 

Sukuna blew a gust of wind at it, but it disappeared before it could hit a tree. And then it reappeared with the same shit-eating grin. Then, sensing that he was going get even more aggressive, you attempted to converse with your new companion against your better judgement. 

“Hi. We’re travellers in search of….an item our teachers have hidden here. You wouldn’t have happened to see something odd recently, have you? Maybe other travellers or a strange glow?”

Purring, it blinked and grinned wider. “Why, yes, I have.”

“Oh, great. Would you tell us please which way we ought to go from here?”

The cat said, “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.”

And Sukuna piped up. “We don’t have a destination in mind—“

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.”

“—as long as we get to wherever the finger is.”

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Sukuna snatched your hand and dragged you away, very clearly fed up. Neither of you mentioned the cat that kept popping up along the trail, grinning and occasionally humming, nor the fact that your hand was still firmly held in your partner’s grip. 

You made the mistake of looking at the cat and saw that its mischievous eyes were on your intertwined hands and then the shyness in your face. Its grin grew wider. 

Eventually, a dreaded scene appeared: a fork in the road. Of course, neither of you knew where to go and asking the cat was out of the question for, he surely would have toyed with you back and forth, up and down, and side to side until you either grew too dizzy to string logical thoughts or you grew so frustrated you march ahead, leaving it up to chance. 

Tapping his foot, Sukuna seemed to be weighing his options, and it was somewhat endearing, especially when he subconsciously brushes his thumb against your knuckles whilst deep in thought.

The cat said, “I could point you in the right direction. For a price.”

“No fucking way,” your partner growled. “Knowing this fucked up place, it’s gonna be something sick and perverted.”

“Let’s just hear him out.” Turning to the innocently smiling cat, you asked, “What’s the price?”

POOF!

It appeared right in front of you, suspended in the air. As if walking on a platform, it trots around your heads, tail slithering across your necks, and whispers, “A Hatter lives in one direction and a March Hare in another. To find out which is the right direction, you’ll have to put on a show, just for me.”

“Fat fucking chance. We’ll try our luck, dumb cat.”

Pulling on his hand, you argued, “This is our first real lead, Sukuna. We can’t pass it up.”

His nostrils flared. He wasn’t happy but he knew you had a point. 

“Fuck, alright. Oi, cat. How do we know you even saw shit? You could just be making it up.”

“Oh, well, I saw two people wearing your clothes —ugly things by the way— carrying a glass box with a finger. They spoke of a quest and tests and marks. Very tedious, I thought. But they sounded curious and so I followed them down one of these paths.”

Well fuck, you thought.

So, he was telling the truth. Sukuna understood the implications, but he looked conflicted. Maybe he wasn’t keen on the possibility of having to do more perverse things with you, and you have to admit, you couldn’t blame him. Despite his horrible attitude, he had still gone above and beyond to help you. If your partner had been anyone else, you would have been stuck here for weeks. 

“Sukuna.” You tugged your hand out of his grip and bit your lip. “We should split up, that way we can cover more grou—“

His glare cut you off. “No. Splitting up is dumb, idiot. Who knows what kinda dangers lurk around this place? And in any case, we need to return at the same time to complete the quest. So, cat, name your price and stay true to your fucking words, or else I’ll kill you and wear your tail as a tie.”

Spinning in the air, the cat grinned. 

“Wonderful!”

And then it poofed onto a tree branch, getting itself all nice and cozy before it languidly blinked and demanded, “Show the pretty lady how you like to feel good.”

That it brings us to now when Sukuna snarls, “I’m gonna rip your stupid fucking head off.”

“Yeah, I actually agree with him. We can’t do that!”

The cat makes a gesture a lot like a shrug and began to disappear before the man beside you curses under his breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. How long do I have to keep going for?”

“Why, until the very end, of course.”

You’re gobsmacked. Truly. Your jaw is slack, and it falls down even further when for the second time today, Sukuna throws his blazer and jumper to the side, leaving him in a wrinkled white button-up, the sleeves of which he rolls up, and then finally, he unbuckles his belt. The sound of metal clinking makes you flinch. His semi-hard cock comes out. Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still packing something significant. It’s yet another thing you hate him for. 

His eyes meet yours before he sighs and throws his head back, muttering some kind of mantra to himself. It’s bad enough that you’re watching but a mean cat is here too — you can’t even imagine how uncomfortable your partner must be. 

“This place is fucked. Why do the Supremes even allow it to exist? Merlin be warned, I’m snitching about the depravities of this forsaken place as soon as we get back.”

Yet, his huge hand wraps around the base and he gives himself a couple pumps before he spits into his palm and rubs the head. You can’t look away, not even because you’re not allowed to but because fuck, he looks good. With one hand, he loosens his tie, showing off the well-defined veins in his muscular arm.

“The fucking cat better not be lying or I’ll burn it alive.”

Up, down, up, down and up, around the head, thumbing the slit, and then down again. He starts off slow, heavy breaths pushed out of his lungs, gradually increasing his pace and you swear you can feel each pump into your pussy.

“I hate this fucking place,” he growls out.

Growing frustrated with the white shirt getting in the way, he curses under his breath and lifts up the hem to bite on it, exposing his toned torso. The muscles there tense with his exertion and despite his age, you sense the strength that courses through his veins, imbuing his body with terrifying prowess. 

You’ve seen that very body bulldoze students in the hallway, wrangle beasts from all corners of reality, and have felt it grip you today. “Fuck, quit staring so hard.” 

You mutter an apology but he’s not listening, he’s focused on the way your eyes can’t stick to one place to look at and that spurns him on, thumb pressing into his slit with a hiss and spreading the pre cum down his length.  

Even the way he treats his own dick is unforgiving. His pace is rhythmic and elegant but also just plain mean. When your eyes flutter at the intensity in his, roving over your features, dropping for just a second down to the hem of your skirt where your skin is exposed before rising to your face again. Red tints the tips of his ears and he curses again like he had been caught. 

An hour passes, or maybe mere seconds, but you forget all about the cat and the quest and the fact that you’re supposed to hate him. Though, you can always count on Sukuna to remind you — with practically no shame, he fishes out something from his pocket. It’s the handkerchief he used to clean you earlier. 

Not having to spend a single moment wondering why he’s got it or what he’s going to do with it, the man presses it up to his nose and inhales deeply. So deeply, in fact, you see his eyes roll back.

“You sure love to stare at me, don’t ya? You -ngh- do it all the time during lectures and even across the meadows. Just can’t help yourself, can you? Always so damn inquisitive.”

Managing to find the will, you fire back, “T-that inquisitiveness helped me beat you in Professor Miya’s class last year, don’t forget.”

His pace increases. “Merlin, your voice is fucking annoying.”

Panties soaked, you resist the urge to press a hand to your pussy to alleviate the growing need there, settling instead for pressing your thighs together.

“S-seriously. You’ve -ha- seen my dick before. Quit fucking staring. You’re acting like you think it’s pretty.” His tone is unnecessarily sarcastic and aggressive, but you let him have this one. 

Just as breathless, you reply, “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

“Fuck!”

Spurts of white cum spew out, landing on the ground between you two. They haven’t touched you and yet you feel their heat. Or maybe it’s coming from his body which glistens ever so slightly with sweat. Maybe it’s even coming from the way he glares at you — eyes dark and blaming, he accuses you of pushing him to release early. 

You hadn’t meant to; you could have watched forever. 

Sukuna packs his softening cock back in, clean hand running through his hair. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and conjure a handkerchief. You offer it to him, but he stretches his hand out. Biting your tongue, you allow him that one thing too since that couldn’t have possibly been easy and you consider the favour repaid.

Diligently wiping his spend away, muttering an enchantment to thoroughly clean him up, you flinch when his clean fingers skim your cheek, pushing a strand of hair back. 

The cat spins in the air. “You put up a great performance. It was very…revealing.”

“Spare me your bullshit. Hold up your end of the deal, cat.”

It begins disappearing, starting from the end of its tails and ending with the grin, which remains. Widening, it finally reveals before leaving, “Go right. To the Mad Hatter.”

A rock flies through the air and thuds against a tree. When it falls, a huge dent is left in the trunk. Sukuna had just tried to kill the cat. This quest is dead. 

Worried, you muse, “I’m not sure how I feel about a ‘mad’ hatter. Everyone here seems pretty mad to me so by their standards, he must be truly insane.”

A mischievous whisper grazes your ear. “You’re right. We’re all mad here.”

And then it’s gone again, but not without another rock flying near your head, whizzing past just a second too late. You give Sukuna an unimpressed look but he’s already picking his clothes up, dusting them off, and marching ahead without looking back. 

——————

There’s a table set out under a tree in front of a house. The ‘March Hare,’ you guess, and Hatter are having tea at it with a mouse sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two are using as it as a cushion, resting their elbows on the mouse and talking over its head. You fear it’d be very uncomfortable for the mouse, but it doesn’t seem to mind as it snoozes. 

“That cat lied to us. They were both here all along. That bitch.”

Again, can’t argue with that.

The table may be large, but the three are all crowded in one corner of the table and when they spot you two approaching, they cry out, “No room! No room!”

“Fuck are you talking about? There’s plenty of room. Move over,” Sukuna snarls. You elbow him and he rolls his eyes.

Two chairs pull out and you feel the crackle of his magic in the air. You take the seat and are offered wine by the March Hare. 

“I don’t see any wine,” you remark. 

The March Hare says, “There isn’t any.”

“Then why the fuck would you offer?”

The March hare says, “Why would you sit down without being invited?”

Fair enough. 

“Your hair wants cutting,” says the Hatter. He’s been looking at you for some time with great curiosity. Dressed in a patchwork of many different cloths of various colours and textures, he is an oddity. You both study each other

“You should learn not to make personal fucking remarks,” Sukuna snarls with some severity; “it’s fucking rude.”

The Hatter opens his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he replies is, “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

Somewhat eager to ease the sudden tense atmosphere, you force an enthusiastic tone. “I love riddles. I believe I can guess that.”

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” Asks the March Hare. You nod. “Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare goes on.

“I do,” you hastily respond; “I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” Shouts the Hatter. “You might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” adds the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” mumbles the mouse, who seems to be talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

THUD!

All eyes fall on Sukuna who’s hit the table with a fist, seemingly innocently as he reclines in his seat the way he does in lectures and classes. You sigh. This whole thing is a mess. It’s impossible to get through any of these people and you’ve got no real clue where the hell the cursed item is. 

“We were directed here by a cat. A grinning cat. He said you might know something about this thing we’re looking for. It might sound odd but it’s a finger. It should feel weird, not at all a good feeling.”

The mouse mumbles, “Finger…we saw…it’s taken.”

You both sit up. “Taken? Where?”

“Tea!” The Hatter exclaims. “Since the Queen screamed that I was murdering time at her concert, it’s always been six o’clock here. So, we must have tea!”

Two cups find their way in front of you and your partner. A thick sense of dread fills you; you already know where this is going. What will it be this time? Lick each other’s toes? Spank each other on the ass?

“We’re not drinking this.”

“Oh, but you must. Tea is a great drink! It’s the best drink. This one offers clarity of mind. Perhaps it will lead you to where you’d like to go.”

Great. 

The day’s almost over and you’d really hate to spend a night here. Again, who knows how much time has passed in Genesis. You really can’t afford to dilly-daddle anymore. When you share a look with Sukuna, you know he’s thinking the same thing, albeit begrudgingly.

And so down it goes without much further argument.

Just as you had suspected, the tea is no ordinary tea — you feel its effects immediately. Your head is growing heavy, and your sight is blurring, but you feel alive. Your body is far more sensitive than it was before. Every breeze sets goosebumps on your arms and heat rises to your cheeks at the sensation of clothes brushing against your skin. 

“Shit. I t-thought you said this gives clarity of mind,” Sukuna spews out accusingly. 

They all laugh. Or maybe none of them do. 

“Let’s have some fun! The Dormouse will tell a story, and you must make it till the end.”

“The catch,” you croak out. “What’s the catch?”

The March Hare remarks, “Clever! Well, you two must be in embrace. It is simply how things are done here. Otherwise, how else will we know if a story is good?”

Flexing his hand like he’s worried he’s losing control over it, your partner presses, “You want us to hug? How does that make sense?”

“No, of course not. She must hug you. The most intimate of hugs!”

“The warmest.”

“The tightest!”

Oh fuck.

“Oh fuck,” Sukuna groans at the same time the thought occurs to you. “There’s always something with this fucking place. I’m losing my mind. Hey, let’s just quit this entire thing.”

“What!”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t look so horrified. Does this shit mean that much to you? Everything we’ve done here is unethical as fuck. If we return and explain, they can’t fail us. We’ve already gone above and beyond.”

“B-but what if they don’t go easy on us? I can’t get a bad grade, Sukuna. I just can’t.”

“Grow the fuck up! This is too fucking far. What they’re suggesting… it’s insane and you know it. We’re both top students, they wouldn’t dare kick us out of the course or the fucking school, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

The chair is pushed back and he’s leaving, shrugging his blazer on and tightening his tie. He’s ready to throw in the towel. You’re not. Heart beating out of your chest, your hands shake as you stand, lunging for him. “N-no! Sukuna, we’ve come so far already. We’re close. I can feel it. Please. It won’t mean anything, we can just get it over and done with.”

Darkness clouds his eyes and the heaviness in his body from the tea makes sweat bead down his neck. Rolling his head around, he tries to calm himself, collecting his mind and resisting the warming effects of the tea. 

“Stop talking. We’re going back. Hate me all you want but I refuse to take a part in this farce any longer. This whole thing was fucked from the beginning.”

He’s reaching in his inside pocket, searching for that one thing that would end this. You’ve looked forward to this all your life, you can’t just let this go without having given it your all. 

“Sukuna!”

Something about your tone stops him in his tracks and his unfocused eyes find yours. 

“My dad…H-he was an explorer.” You blame the tea on the tears welling up and threatening to humiliate you further. “He gave his life to the cause. It was everything to him. A-and this is the only part of him I can keep alive so please one more chance and then I’ll do everything you want. I’ll do your homework, I’ll give up job opportunities for you, I’ll rescind the complaint I made about you where I complained about your bad breath.”

“I don’t have bad breath.”

“Yeah, I know! I just wanted to be petty, fuck. Please?”

Combing his hair with his hand, a tick in his jaw jumps and you think maybe he’ll kill you, strangle you finally after years of…whatever the fuck you two have been doing. Instead, he says…

“Take off your fucking panties and let’s fucking hope the hamster is a good orator.”

And so, you find yourself sitting on Sukuna’s thick thighs, panty-less, and stuffed full. Easing him in is difficult beyond belief — you’re already wet, or had remained wet, the details are unclear, and he’s hard, which is the problem. His huge cock doesn’t make the easiest of entrances. 

“Loosen up, princess. You’re gonna cut the circulation off my damn dick,” he hisses in your ear. It sends shivers down your back and when you tighten up in response, his fingers dig into your hips as punishment. 

“Once upon a time there were three little sisters,” the Dormouse begins in no hurry; “and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well—”

“What did they live on?” Asks the Hatter. 

Sukuna doesn’t feel anywhere near close to being buried to the hilt inside your pussy and he’s pushing his way through your gummy walls, fingers rubbing your clit to encourage you to loosen up. You’re already sweaty and well out of breath. To maintain some dignity, you decide to blame it on the tea. 

“They lived on treacle,” says the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.

“They couldn’t have done that, you know,” you gently remark, attempting to distract yourself from the fact that they’re watching you ease yourself down on the pink-haired man’s throbbing length; “they’d have been ill.”

“So they were,” says the Dormouse; “very ill.”

“But why did they live at the bottom of a we—Ah, fuck! Sukuna!”

He’d grabbed you by the hips and shoved you down, forcing your walls to stretch impossibly quickly. A dull pain vibrates inside, it causes you to tear up. Shushing you, a hand reaches up underneath your jumper, it rips your shirt open, buttons falling down. That hand, calloused and scalding, weighs up your breast. Your head falls back on his shoulder when he pinches a nipple.

“Don’t fucking interrupt him, dumbass.”

The Dormouse again takes a minute or two to think about it, and then confirms, “It was a treacle-well. And so, these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, you know—”

“What did they draw?” You wonder, forgetting yourself. Sukuna thrusts inside you. 

Pooling under, your wetness coats his cock, dribbling down his balls. He’s so much bigger inside you than outside and by the Heavens, it’s like he’s in your lungs. Every ridge, every vein, every throb — you feel it all. Sukuna’s lips skim your neck. “Are you interrupting the fucking thing ‘cause you want to elongate this? Huh, you irritating -hngh- p-pain in my ass? So quiet now that you’ve got a cock plugging you up, aren’t you? Maybe that’s all you -ha- needed from the very beginning, you dirty little thing.”

A moan leaks out just as he flicks your nipple again and again. 

“Treacle,” says the Dormouse, with a little amusement in his words. 

You can’t even remark about how ridiculous this whole thing is anymore because now it’s your fault. You had an out and you didn’t take it when offered. Now you’re practically drooling against Sukuna’s neck as he holds back from thrusting into your wet heat. 

“Did you ever think that w-we’d -ha- end up like this? When you shoved me out of your way years ago, unprovoked, did you know I’d be balls deep inside this pretty fucking pussy, hmm? Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. Is it turning you on to be watched? Do you like how e-everyone’s listening to your -ngh fuck don’t clench down on me- y-your moans, watching you grind on my dick? What would your s-snooty friends think?”

“They were learning to draw,” the Dormouse goes on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it’s getting very sleepy; “and they drew all manner of things—everything that begins with an M—”

“Why with an M?” Enquires the Hatter.

 The March Hare asks, “Why not?”

You’re silent, or as silent as you can be with the way you feel him pulsing inside of you. His clutch on you is much sweeter than you’d like it to be, so are the words of praise he’s whispering in your ears. Sukuna’s being unfair. Your knees are shaking from the pressure building up inside you and you really have to fight back the whimpers that claw their up your throat, reminding you how he filled it mere hours ago. 

“Just filled your sloppy cunt with my cock and you’re -mhm- already fucked dumb? Always wondered how long it’d take to wipe that pretentious smirk of your face, you self-righteous brat. Now look at you.”

“You’ve been -hgnh!- thinking about f-fucking me?”

He laughs and you feel it rumble behind you. “More times than I’ll ever admit. And only ever when you pissed me off. You’re always glaring at me when I talk in lectures, walking fast so you won’t h-have to breathe the same fucking air as me, and worse of all, when you wear these short fucking skirts and if I looked hard enough or conjured a breeze, I could see your prissy little panties. Always with frills and always with bows.”

“S-shut up, Sukuna. Your crazy talk’s scaring me.”

Sharp teeth cling onto your neck, digging just a little to draw out a sudden moan. Satisfied, he licks up the mark. “Didn’t you learn anything from Professor Hinata’s class on spiritual attachments? Love is fear. Y-you falling -ah fuck, I won’t last- falling for me, prissy little princess?”

“No, he said, people f-feel a different sense of -ooh fuck so full ha- fear when in love.”

“Same fucking difference.”

The Dormouse closes its eyes by this time, and is going off into a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it wakes up again with a little shriek, and goes on: “—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are ‘much of a muchness’—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?”

“How much longer?” You all but scream out at the three other people. 

Looking startled, they laugh. The Hatter confesses. “The story was over before it began.”

The March Hare adds, “Or there was no story to tell to begin with.”

“The finger! Where’s the finger?”

“The Queen has it. Took it away.”

Your orgasm hits you like a shooting star, piercing you from inside. Back arching, head thrown back, eyes rolling, you tense all over. Sukuna’s grip on you tightens impossibly and triggers his own orgasm. Together, you both moan and groan, shaky knees hitting the table. It rattles. “Fuck, Sukuna! So b-big! I c-can’t. So good, so so so good.”

“That’s it, baby. Ride my dick, that’s it. Ah, fuck, you’re so damn good at that. Better than I coulda ever dreamed. Smell and taste better too, ha! Shit!”

The world fades away. All you can hear, feel, see, and hear is Sukuna. Pink hair, steel muscles, piercing sword buried to the hilt, and careful hand wiping an errant tear from your cheek. Hot ropes of cum paint your insides, driven by an intense throbbing. It’s the fullest you’ve ever been — the most satisfied too but you can’t dwell on that for too long.

You slump against him, completely spent and drenched. 

His chin rests against your shoulder and sometime later, with the three Underlanders talking among themselves, bored of you two now, he whispers, “Didn’t pull you down too hard, did I?”

“A little…but it was good.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. 

Standing, you wince when cool air kisses your swollen lips. There’s a gaping Sukuna-sized hole inside you and it’s leaking cum, which trails down your thighs before the man responsible kneels down and wipes it up with a new handkerchief — man you two are going through handkerchiefs like it’s nothing and well, you suppose it is considering they’re so light, they can be easily conjured with little to no effort. 

Once clean, he helps you slip into the panties you had discarded, what feels like, a millennia ago. And then, with a distracted instruction from the Mad Hatter, you two leave the tea-drinkers in search of the so-called, ‘Queen of Hearts.’

Neither of you mention the fact that your hands are interlinked the whole way.

——————

A large rose-tree stands near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it are white, but there are three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. From your hiding spot behind a hedge, you hear one shout, “Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like that!”

“I couldn’t help it,” says Five, in a sulky tone; “Seven jogged my elbow.”

On which Seven looks up and sarcastically agrees, “That’s right, Five! Always lay the blame on others!”

“You’d better not talk!” Demands Five. “I heard the Queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!”

“What for?” Asks the one who had spoken first.

“That’s none of your business, Two!” Says Seven.

“Yes, it is his business!” Five says, “and I’ll tell him—it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.”

Sukuna snorts, “Fuck’s their problem?”

“It looks like they’re painting the roses red. Why?”

At this moment Five, who’s been anxiously looking across the garden, calls out, “The Queen! The Queen!” and the three gardeners instantly throw themselves flat upon their faces. There’s a sound of many footsteps, and you look around, eager to see this woman.

First comes ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these are ornamented all over with diamonds, and walks two and two, as the soldiers did. After these come the royal children; there are a ten of them, and the little dears come jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they’re all ornamented with hearts. Then the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them you recognise the White Rabbit: it’s talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that’s said, and goes by without noticing you two. Then follows the Knave of Hearts, carrying something on a velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, comes the King and Queen of Hearts.

“And who are these?” Asks the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who are lying round the rose-tree; they’re lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs are the same as the rest of the pack, so she can’t tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. Then, sensing they won’t want to out themselves, she screams, “Off with their heads!”

“What a bitch,” you mutter.

Beside you, Sukuna shrugs. “Nah, she’s valid.”

Ignoring him, you point to the cushion. “Do you feel that?”

He nods. There’s an intense energy coming from the velvet cushion. You already know it’s the finger encased in a glass box. The box itself would have been crafted with keeping most of the cursed energy contained in mind, so you know its malevolent effects are limited, but the sooner you can retrieve and return to school grounds, the better. You’ve overstayed your welcome, the proof of that is still pooling in your panties. 

“Let’s grab it and get the fuck outta here.”

Grabbing your bag, you search for something you’ve been saving for this very moment: a vial of blue liquid swirls in your hand. You uncork it and with a nod to Sukuna, you take a gulp. Hand outstretched to offer the rest to him, you’re somehow not surprised to feel hands on your head and lips on your own. 

The liquid sloshes into his mouth. You both gulp. 

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

And then you’re invisible. 

Creeping through the shrubbery, you wander into a curious game. 

“Get to your places!” Screams the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people begin running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they get settled down in a minute or two, and the game begins. You’ve never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it’s all ridges and furrows; the balls are live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingos, and the soldiers have to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.

The players all play at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the Queen’s in a furious passion, and stomps around, shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!” about once in a minute.

If there was anyone to avoid pissing off in here, it’s surely her. So, you two make your way around, avoiding soldiers, children, hedgehogs, kings and queens and flamingos. 

Upon reaching the Knave, you pluck the box in your hands and feel immense energy coursing through your veins, sparking your hair up. Something fizzles and splutters. 

Gasps stagger around. 

“W-who is this interloper with dreadful clothes?” The Queen screams. “She’s taking my finger! It’s mine. I found it!”

The cursed item must have off-set the effects of the potion. This thing is strong, there’s no doubt about it. Everyone’s looking at you, some in curiosity, inching closer, and others in horror, lunging back when your eyes meet theirs. 

“Off with her head! Off with her head! Off with her head!” The bitch repeats on a loop, growing red in the face as she stomps about the place. 

Just as guards reach for you, you’re grabbed back by a pair of strong arms. Sukuna’s still invisible but you know it’s him when a calloused hand brushes your hair back and fixes up your uniform in quick succession. Something soft and warm brushes your forehead and then a purple coin is flipped in the air. 

Bright lights blind, encircling you in a cool and refreshing hug, before your body is vanishing in spots. 

Blink. 

You’re standing on solid ground. 

A hall of uniformed scholars and students alike are waiting. They beam at you; deafening rounds of applause meets your ears, and you stumble back into a hard body. Sukuna’s visible again, thanks to the effects of the portal. Gone are the angry kings and queens, the oddly shaped soldiers, and talking animals. Instead, you’re face with academics who express impressed respect.

“Congratulations!” Professor Yaga smiles. He shakes your hand and then your partner’s. “You’re the first students to return — as expected of my best students. Come, drink some water, replenish yourselves, and then I’d like to introduce you to recruiters.”

And so that’s how your return proceeds.

You meet so many people, most you’ve already forgotten, that your head actually hurts by the time you’re able to slip away into your dorm-room. Showered and fed, you lay in bed trying desperately to grasp the events of the day. The professor had revealed that you made it back in record time, which of course will look great on your application, so that’s one chip off your shoulder. 

Still, everything feels unreal. You had travelled, unchaperoned, to a world unknown to you. You explored and discovered and stumbled and learnt — most of which you’d never feel comfortable sharing with anyone else, try as they did in the reception. 

In hindsight, there were things you could have done differently, should have done differently. None of that seems to matter now though. You’ve done it. You’ve succeeded. Passed with flying colours. An A-grade dimension on your first go, too. You should pat yourself on the back. 

For some reason, however, you don’t feel like celebrating. The friends that hugged and pressed you for information didn’t really understand that numbness in your chest. This is all you’ve ever wanted and now that you have it, you feel empty. Is it because now you have nothing? 

Is it guilt? Shame?

You don’t know. 

Your feet meet the cold, wooden floors. Slipping into slippers and tying a robe around you, you sneak out into the hallways, this time not to study, but rather to do the opposite. There’s one thing you need to know. One thing that might set your mind and soul at ease. Facing a high likelihood that that something would not take kindly to being disturbed late at night, you brave the hardest journey so far, and come upon a door, this time, at a good height. 

You knock. 

Every second that passes drives away that confidence but when that door opens and you see a startled Sukuna, shirtless and glistening from a recent shower, it seems, you feel assured again. It’s just him. There’s no reason to be nervous. You’ve seen and felt him, just as he had done with you. Despite the years of petty rivalry, you’ve learned, he’s not that bad actually. 

“Fuck do you want?”

Nevermind. 

Rolling your eyes, you begin walking away. A solid grip wraps itself around your arm and you’re yanked back. Your hand grabs purchase on his torso —hard, hot and wet, images are conjured in your mind that you shouldn’t be thinking about. 

“Don’t get all prissy. Was just asking.”

One or two students pass by, sparing a glance but mostly at Sukuna’s impressive bod. Neither of you care that gossip will pass around; you’ve done a lot of being watched. It no longer bothers you. He leans against the door, arms crossed and raising a brow at you. 

“I just wanted to talk, or something. Like, we didn’t really get to when we got back because it all got so crazy, y’know?”

He grunts. “That’s an understatement. Those stuffy old goats were somehow more annoying than the freaks in Underland.”

You smile. 

“Can’t believe we actually survived. It seemed so impossible at so many points, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did. But we did good.”

“Yeah, we did...”

The conversation’s dwindling. You thought you would have so much to say, and well, you do, but none of it is coming out. What do you say to someone’s who’s been inside you?

‘Hey, thanks!’ Or ‘Nice?’

In a flash, he tugs you by the fuzzy belt of your robe. You’re in his arms and he growls out some insult to a passing student who had almost bumped into you. Just as quickly, he spins you two around, closes the door and you’re inside his room. Both leaning against his door now, he doesn’t let you go, and you don’t shuffle out of his embrace. 

Gaze softening, he pinches your chin and tilts your head back so you can meet his eyes. “That story about your father…”

“Didn’t happen,” you confess. 

He laughs. “Fucking knew it. You can be such a nerd, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, grades are important, Sukuna. If you knew that, then you wouldn’t be five points behind me.” 

“Fuck you.” He walks forward, pushing you back until you fall on the bed. He follows, drops of water splattering on your face and the sheets. “I was seven points ahead before. I’ll get you back soon.”

You’ve never thought him foul-smelling, even when you searched the deepest darkest parts of yourself to find the most creative insults you could gather to satisfy your need for vindication. But now, his scent fills your nose in an overwhelming, almost suffocating way. 

Clean and mature, you’re suddenly aware of the stubble on his chin when his face skims past yours to smell you. “Hmm, don’t change your shampoo.”

“Do you conjure a breeze to get a whiff of my hair too?” You tease and just as the last word comes out, a ‘yes’ reaches your ears. He’s being painfully transparent and vulnerable and you don’t know how to feel or what to say, so you settle on nothing but silence. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what you had expected to happen when you come here, but this sudden change in your dynamic isn’t terrible.

There, in his bed and in his arms, you rest. Neither of you are asleep, you’re both much too aware of each other to do so, but the quietude’s nice. Just the day before, if you had been told you’d end up like this with him you’d have laughed and levitated a book into their head. It would have been worse than impossible — if it had happened, the world, all the dimensions and planes of existence that fills it, would have folded into itself, swallowed into nothing. 

But it hasn’t and it won’t. 

“Your heart’s beating quite fast,” he murmurs against your neck. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

The question is loaded, and you can’t help yourself when you fire back, “Are you afraid of me, Ryomen?”

“Terrified.”

His face is all you see when he leans on his forearms, then slowly, he leans back down, skimming his sharp nose against your jaw and all the way up to your ear where his lips just barely touch the shell. 

“So afraid I was actually getting dressed to go to your room…but you just had to one-up me, didn’t you? My little overachiever.”

Sukuna doesn’t stop there. 

He kisses you on your temple and then pushes the robe open, revealing an oversized shirt which he pulls up. He presses a kiss onto your clavicle, then your stomach, and the hem of your shorts. He looks up at you. “So afraid that I enjoyed every single fucked up thing we did today, and I’d do it all over again, cursed finger be damned.”

Those shorts are ripped away and, once again, you’re laid all open for him. You should be embarrassed, or feeling shy at the very least, but you aren’t. Because Sukuna isn’t looking at you like he used to — with disdain. No, he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and might ever see even if he explored all the corners of the universe. 

“I was terrified when you yelled at me for burning your application paper for Ad-Ill.”

You smack him on the head. “You were such a prick for that, by the way.”

Big hands push your thighs open, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs, keeping you nice and spread for him. “It was an accident.”

“The hell it was.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, and you moan. Just that one taste had him feral — he dives in like he had done before. Practically making out with your pussy, he laps up the essence steadily building out of your slightly sore hole. “It was. I didn’t know you were -mm- applying too until you came to hand in your paper. Thought it’d be fun to have someone who actually -fuck you tastes so good- knows a thing or two in class so I tried to set alight someone else’s paper, but some loser bumped into me. Made me miss and shit.”

There are so many more incidents you want to bring up, but when he’s suckling on your clit so diligently — far more than diligent than you’d ever seen him be — you can’t do anything but tug at his hair and writhe beneath his hands. 

“Quit fucking moving.” Sukuna smacks the bundle of nerves, and you cream onto his tongue, which earns you soothing caresses on your clammy thighs. “You’re taking the tonic, aren’t you?”

You nod, distracted. 

“Good, because I’m not fucking you with a barrier. Can’t possibly downgrade when I’ve had the real thing, can I?”

That sinful tongue is forcing moans and moans out from you, noises you’ve never heard yourself make. Your eyes fly open when it begins venturing lower, tracing a hole you’ve never touched. “S-sukuna, don’t.”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. It presses in and you feel stretched in a way so different than you’ve ever been stretched before. The sensation isn’t bad. No, not at all but it’s an addictive feeling you’re not sure you can stomach. 

With fingers pistoning inside you and a tongue exploring you in that hole, it’s no surprise to either of you when you squirt all over his face. You screech, back arched painfully and tearing at the sheets beneath you. 

He doesn’t give you a second to breathe before you’re being spun around and positioned onto your knees. Arms pulled back, he thrusts into your sloppy pussy with a long squeeelch. 

“Ah, fuck! Sukuna!”

“God, do you ever loosen up?” He growls. 

Powerful hips make quick work of you, pushing in and out, cock head massaging that gooey spot inside your gummy walls. His balls are swinging with the force of his thrusts, and they kiss your clit. You’re being stimulated inside and out, especially when every time he smacks into you, you’re shoved forward, shirt around your neck, and your tits graze deliciously against the silky sheets. 

“T-too rough…you’re being too rough!”

Sukuna makes a noise of amusement. “You like it rough, though. Can fucking feel -ngh- h-how much you like it. No use in lying to me, baby.”

“Fine!” You huff a laugh. “Fuck me harder then, Ryomen.” He pulls out till only the tip is in your cunt and then he shoves it all back in. “Fuck!”

His groans are making you delirious: “How do you feel so damn good? Seriously. It’s like you were -ah shit- created just to spite me, ha.”

You’re being fucked stupid, and no one can help you. You just have to take his relentless pummelling over and over again. And thank the Heavens you’re not the type to back away from a challenge because he’s fucking you better than anyone else has before, and this kind of euphoria is a crime to miss in anyone’s lifetime.

“Eat.” Through the blurriness of the tears in your eyes, you see a cake hovering in front of you. “Swiped it from Underland. Had it tested so I know exactly what it does. Go on. Be a good girl and open wide.”

Despite better wisdom, you lick up the frosting. He pulls you upright, still ramming his huge cock inside your sopping pussy. A hand grabs your head back, his tongue shoves into your mouth and you share the cream. Through the sweetness, you can taste him, and you just can’t help but lick up the dribble down his chin and meet his lips again for a kiss. 

“Ow! Suku—Ah! Fuck! Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

Sukuna had bitten your bottom lip. Blood pools in your mouth but he sucks away the iron and distracts you with the flicking of your nipples. Just as he’s had his momentary fill, you’re shoved back down onto the bed, a hand on your head keeping you down as he bulldozes into you with little care. 

“Even your blood tastes sweet ha. God, I can’t get enough of you. I don’t care what you -ngh fuck- have to say. I’m keeping you.”

You explode all over his cock, cream pooling out of your pussy and soaking the sheets underneath. The soreness in your back is barely felt over the maddening pleasure radiating all over your body. “Yes, fuck! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Body limp, you let him keep pummelling you until he pauses suddenly. You look back.

Two cocks meet your stare. 

Bewildered and literally afraid, you attempt to inch away but he grips your ankle in one hand whilst the other strokes the new one. There’s a sadistic smile on his lips and that’s far more horrifying than anything else. It’s the kind of smile that promises pleasure and pain on levels you can only ever achieve with him. 

“You like, baby? Don’t worry your dumb little head -ha- only men grow this. Aren’t we lucky? The women, on the other hand…”

Before you can even think of a reply, he’s spitting onto your second hole and prodding the head of his temporary —at least you hope it is — cock there. You brace yourself for pain, hands flying to try and push him away, but when he pushes in, you’re surprised to find your hole stretching accommodatingly. It wraps around him just as your pussy does when he pushes his original cock in at the same time. 

Thoroughly filled, you’re breathless. Truly. All you can think about is Sukuna. Nothing about your shared history or the insane events of the day. Just Sukuna. You were already being driven crazy by one of him and now there’s two monsters fucking you from behind, rubbing against parts you didn’t know could feel so good. 

“Oh, God, Sukuna. It’s all too much, I can’t.”

He laughs and it’s an incredibly cruel sound. It’s also incredibly hot. “You’ve said that -ngh- before and you’ve been doing j-just fine. Can’t believe we waited so long to do this.”

You’re yanked back by your hair. Your eyes roll back. 

“Don’t make me wait again.”

“Let me do -oh Sukuna!- b-better than you in the next test and I’ll let you fuuuuck! fuck me whenever.”

Body towering over you, he leans forward, driving deeper inside of you at an angle that makes you see dancing gryphons. His jaw clamps down onto your shoulder, leaving, you’re sure, indents that you’ll curse him out for tomorrow. “Yeah? How about you try your damn best to beat me, and I fuck you whenever and wherever I want? I can be quite good with words, after all.”

“Bullshit.”

So many noises echo in the room. The neighbouring students will surely complain to the Head of Student Housing, but you don’t care. The bed is creaking as it slams into the wall with loud thuds. Your moans and his low groans and hisses are making your clit pulse. Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! And smack! Smack! Smack!

It’s like Sukuna’s purposefully being as loud as possible to drive you more and more insane. And it’s fucking working.

“Yeah? You don’t believe me?” He licks a stripe up your spine, laying a firm slap against the glove of your ass just to watch it ripple. “Try this one.”

Steeling yourself, you brace for the impact of whatever lie spews out of his mouth. You don’t want to let him get the best of you; you need to remind him of who’s better out of the two of you. Whether it’s in the examination hall, in a quest, or on the damn bed — you have to come out victorious. 

He kisses your nape before he whispers against the skin there. “I was so fearful of you I convinced Professor Yaga to pair me up with you.”

You cum. 

Stars explode in your vision, and you’re stunned. Your vision must have disappeared. Or maybe your mind has vaporised. Whatever the case, pleasure erupts in both your pussy and your ass, and the feeling is so overwhelming you’re screaming bloody murder into his pillow, drenching it in your drool. 

“Ah, fuck! You’re fucking choking my cocks.” 

With a hiss, Sukuna unloads his cum inside of you. There’s so much of it. It’s overfilling, flowing out of your holes even as he’s still got you stuffed full. You can feel phantom cum pool in your mouth and the taste of him, the branding sear of his body on and in you, relieve you of tension you didn’t realise you had. 

Knowing he’s suffocating you; he rolls you two over so you’re lying on him. His skin is sweaty, as is yours. Through his curtains, you see rays of light peek in — you hadn’t realised you’ve been at it for hours, though you’re sure to feel it later. 

A stillness hangs in the air. For the next couple of weeks, you’ll be busy. Recruiters will conduct interviews, you’ll write reports, and answer questions for local papers and even lead classes on what you’ve learnt. You’ll indubitably meet many more people and go through a different kind of hell. For reasons beyond you, however, you don’t feel any kind of dread. 

“Did you mean what you said? Any of it?”

He snorts and then pecks your forehead, pulling up the blanket over the two of you. “Every damn word, unfortunately.”

“So now what?”

Eyes closed and body shuffling to get comfortable, you can do nothing but be compelled by the sudden call for sleep luring you two away from consciousness. “Whatever you want.”

Somehow, ‘whatever’ is the perfect answer. 

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, fulfilled and satisfied on levels you hadn’t expected to be when you set off that morning. Wherever this goes, neither of you know, but the fact that you’re both willing to see it through, means everything to you. 

That morning, your dreams are filled with visions of delicious drinks, animated animals, and a malevolent monarch who cradles your head close to his heart.

[gordonengineswifenirmal]

A lot of times, Yeah. Not everything is inherently bad about them, but u learn real fast where u stand. A lot of folks swim with the fishes, jump off the bridge together into wtf insanity eejit land. Then, some of us go do our own things. Often, we’re the hated ones. The bridge jumpers will try to run after u n set fire to u because u do something that triggers them. Often, u don’t even know what ACTUALLY triggered them, n sometimes u didn’t voluntarily do something.

Honestly, there r a lot of ppl here that have great art talent, but draw some really wtf shite. Supper cringe. I was nice. I didn’t go up to their blogs n pick fights saying wtf r u doing? wtf is in ur mind? They even would ask stuff on the confessions blog (sometimes nsfw). A few of the folks didn’t like that I censored a word or two. No fights tho, until one day I got random message to the main blog (this one) filled with insults because I don’t support spammers. No one gave me a chance to explain meself. Everything was being taken out of context. They stalked me for stuff, used an image or two without permission to harass me. It just kept getting worse n worse.

N yet, I have friends here, and on discord who are wonderful people. We have great conversations. I can b friends with all ages, n I’m perfectly appropriate. I have a few minors in me discord who I protected when they harassed. I was harassed before because I protected them.

Some of the well known blogs here are supporting ppl who befriended actual paedophiles. Some of these blogs have extremely disturbing content on their blogs. I’ve had ppl who block me, or slandered me n then blocked me so I couldn’t have a rebuttal just because of lies they believe. It’s insane. They claim ‘oh she’s older and sexualises a kids show so she’s a paedo. - they’re doing the same thing they accuse me of. The only differences are that they’re younger, and dont care what bullshit they support, as long as they think it makes them look good. Newsflash - it doesn’t.

I’m not the least bit interested in people inappropriately. The one claimed I was inappropriate at museums and fan events because I joked about stuff with trains. I’ve never been kicked out of anything. This same person was at the unlikely fandom thing with me, met me in person. She knows full well I didn’t do anything wrong, but is making up shite to satisfy something. I’m not even sure what the exact motive is tbh.

We had stupid ppl in fandoms before, but eventually they’d go away. They’d b all know it alls n they’d go away. This is new. This is terrifying. Some folks I know actually witness the real disturbing stuff in other discords n report it to me. I’m glad that as toxic as the Thomas fandom is as a whole, there are still some good bits. That’s what I enjoy. Nice conversations, we can joke about stuff. That’s it. I dunnae if ppl r secretly hoping id want to do more inappropriate stuff, n thats why they r trying to egg me on or silence me ? I hope not. The very idea sickens me. I know they perceive me as a threat, not because I really am one, but because something about me strikes a nerve deep down. N they don’t want to confront that truth. This is what seems to drive a lot of drama in the fandom, n not only for me.

[cherubkissesx]

entwined

this a part two to this !!

pairing: spencer reid x bau! f reader

content: fluff! sick reader, domestic spencer!!, secret relationship

summary: reader returns back to work after being sick, however she returns to everyone relenting teasing her and spencer!!

you awake with the sun shining directly into your eyes which you would usually hate but seeing as it was officially spring you were more than happy with that. you feel something gripping your waist and you finally turn your head to the side to see a sleeping spencer sprawled across your bed while you were shoved into a tiny corner.

you smile at the memory from the night before when he woke you up because he was worried and needed to come over and see you. you scan your eyes all over his perfect face you reach out and trace his sculpted cheekbones with your finger. “not fair” you faintly whisper. “i’ve been awake this whole time” spencer smirks. “idiot” you smile and slap him lightly on the arm.

spencer moves and suddenly sweeps you up into his arms and pulls you tight against him. you instantly soften in his arms feeling the safest you’ve ever been in your life.

“we should really get up” you finally say. “5 more minutes” spencer whines into the crook of your neck. “we’ve been here all night” you laugh while you sit up. “you’re going into work today?” spencer asks getting up with you and instantly makes your bed for you.

“i’m already feeling ten times better. turns out all i needed was some sleep and cuddles” you smile sweetly at him to which he comes to your side and places a tender kiss on your lips.

you finally pick up your phone to check the time to which you only had an hour before you were due in work, however a certain notification catches your eye. “what’s this?” you say out loud. you click on the text message from penelope which was sent an hour ago. the text message was a photo of you and spencer asleep together.

you instantly gasp and begin to panic. “what is it?” spencer says instantly becoming alarmed at the sudden change in you. you turn your phone around to him but instead of spencer being panicked he laughed.

“this isn’t funny!” you say in a panic while flitting around your room hurriedly shoving clothes on. “they know about us now!” you say.

“maybe that isn’t such a bad thing?” spencer says taking your hands in his. “hotch would kill us if he found out” you say. “and then we’d be put on different units! oh god!” you said nervously pacing as all the possible scenarios race through your mind.

“come on it’s hotch! he’s been our boss for years he won’t care” spencer says. “you can’t help the people you love.” spencer confesses and you stop immediately. “you love me?” you say as your clutch your hand over your heart. “of course i do” spencer says planting a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you too nerd” you said shyly.

—-

“let’s walk in separately” you say. “okay but it’s not going to make a difference if penelope and derek already know” spencer shakes his head.

spencer enters first and you enter a little behind him and everyone in the room stares at you two. you tuck your hair behind your ear and plant your stuff down at your desk.

“can i help you?” you say to no one in particular. “no no” jj says sarcastically. “okay…” you trail off and sit down.

“spencer you’re wearing the exact same outfit as yesterday man!” emily says to which spencer’s cheeks instantly flush red and you snicker.

“i do have a washing machine emily!” spencer says. “right” emily says.

“are you feeling better?” jj asks. “yes i feel a lot better thank you for asking.” you smile. “i bet you do” emily smirks and you narrow your eyes at her.

“okay come on out with it, how could you hide this! i get hotch but us??!!” emily says in disbelief to which you finally gave in. “you ran your mouth!” you say accusingly to derek. “hey! it wasn’t me it was penelope but anyways answer emily’s question!” derek says.

“we were going to tell you eventually!” you say in a weak defence for you and spencer.

“how long have you both been in a relationship?” jj asks. you and spencer both look at eachother. “around about 5 months ish” you both say guilty. “5 months?!” emily says in shock. “we were just figuring stuff out!” you say.

“by the way, we all saw the picture.” jj laughs right as penelope enters the room which you shoot her a death stare to which she walks right back out of the room with both hands held up in the hair.

“even hotch?!” you panic. “even me.” hotch says coming out of his office with the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

[kxsagi]

waiitttt imagine going panty shopping w the bllk boys 🤭🤭 do you think they'd be shy ?? lolll

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭”

a/n: okay so i made this a little bit more of them like shopping in victoria’s secret for the first time since you’re their first and only gf (headcanon edition) + they pay for everything

i am literally OBSESSED with that store, at the mall, i can barely hold myself back from going in there and coming out with the cute pink striped shopping bag omg my bank account 💔

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, itoshi sae

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 - “𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬”

walking into the store, he’s confident, cool, and calm, until he spots the rows of lacy lingerie and cutesy sets. his face immediately turns bright red, and it’s like someone hit the pause button on his entire personality.

for the rest of the trip, he awkwardly stares at the ceiling, suddenly fascinated by the decorative lights or the patterns in the floor tiles, anything to avoid looking at the lacy wonders around him. the moment you hold up something a little suggestive and ask, “what do you think, love?” he’s already looking anywhere but at you.

inside, he’s probably dying from the sheer embarrassment, but he keeps trying to act like this is completely normal, which only makes the whole thing more adorable. 

𝐁𝐎𝐍��𝐒: “𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬?!”

you know he’s out of his depth when he stares at the wall of bras like it’s a puzzle he’s been trying to solve for years.

“wait, there’s a difference between balconette, demi, and full coverage?!” he whispers to you, clearly panicking at the sheer variety of options. he’s desperately trying to keep up with all the terminology, but it’s all too much.

at this point, he’s holding one bra like he’s trying to figure out the meaning of life. you can’t help but laugh at how lost he looks, but you’re also secretly proud of him for wanting to learn, even if he’s completely confused.

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 - “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐭”

he walks in and immediately takes control of the situation by grabbing every single piece you hand him. you’re planning on picking out a few things, but he’s already holding onto three bags before you’ve even made it past the first section.

when you tease him about it, he just shrugs it off with a smile like, "i’ve got it, angel. i’m your personal shopper today." you have to admit, it’s kind of adorable how he’s fully committed to the cause, even if he’s holding onto a bunch of pink totes and looking a little silly.

the best part? he insists on carrying everything for you, even if you don’t need the help. he’s happy to be there, even if it means looking like a fashion-forward mule with a ton of shopping bags hanging off his arms. 

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒: “𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫���𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝”

the best part? after checking out, he’s walking through the mall with a proud grin on his face, holding that pink victoria’s secret bag like it’s a badge of honor.

he’s lowkey hoping someone will ask what he bought just so he can proudly say, “i went shopping for lingerie with my girlfriend,” with a completely unapologetic smile.

at this point, he’s way too happy about the experience, walking a little taller, chest puffed out, and feeling like he’s just won boyfriend of the year. you can tell by the way he’s grinning that he’ll remember this trip as a highlight of your relationship.

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧 - “𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜”

the first few minutes are easy: he's walking around like a chill boyfriend, checking out some of the bras on the wall, pretending he’s seen it all before. but the minute you turn a corner and step into the section with more daring pieces, like the push-up bras or the sheer lace sets, his entire demeanor shifts.

he tries to act casual and aloof, his hands in his pockets, trying to act like he’s totally unfazed by all the… suggestive material surrounding him. but his eyes? his eyes are darting around like he's trying not to be caught sneaking a peek at the more revealing items.

he even tries to start up a casual conversation with you about something completely unrelated, like “did you hear of that new horror movie that just released?” just to avoid the possibility of you catching him staring a little too long at a satin thong. 

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐡𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐚 - “𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞”

once he realizes how much fun he’s actually having, he falls into consultant mode. you're holding up a few items, and suddenly, he’s transformed into the perfect mix of fashion expert and personal cheerleader.

“hmm, the lace on this one is nice, but i think this other one is more you,” he says, pointing to another set with a thoughtful look. “you should definitely try this one on.”

he’s genuinely focused, comparing different cuts, colors, and fabrics like he’s running an intimate fashion show in his head. you can't help but laugh because you weren’t expecting him to take this so seriously. but he loves seeing you happy, and if giving his fashion opinion means you walk out with a set you adore, then he’s in it to win it.

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢 - “𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐧”

at some point, he starts to enjoy himself. you might be the one shopping for lingerie, but now he’s fully invested in your shopping experience.

suddenly, he’s holding up all sorts of things with exaggerated flair, like an over-the-top stylist. “you should totally get this satin robe. imagine how gorgeous you’d look in it,” he says with a playful grin, picturing you in it already.

he's not even pretending to be disinterested anymore, he's genuinely enjoying picking out things with you, helping you mix and match, and giving you encouraging compliments as you try on outfits.

𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 - “𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞”

after a few minutes of nervousness, he gets comfortable in the store and flips into playful mode. you’re picking out a few things, and he spots a push-up bra on a nearby shelf. with a mischievous smirk, he picks it up, walks over to you, and holds it up to your chest with a teasing grin.

“you don’t even need these, schatz,” he says, grinning like a little devil, and before you can even respond, he’s mockingly cupping your chest as if to make a point.

you swat him away in embarrassment, but he just laughs at how flustered you’re getting. you can’t help but smile too, because underneath all his teasing, there’s that glint in his eyes that shows just how much he loves making you laugh.

𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨 - “𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦”

just when you think things are going smoothly, a sales associate approaches to offer help. your boyfriend, now standing a bit too close to the lacy underwear section, freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

the associate turns to him with a smile and asks, “can i help you find anything, sir?” and without missing a beat, he awkwardly stutters, “oh, uh, no, i’m just… here,” his voice trailing off.

he then tries to backpedal without looking too suspicious, but ends up bumping into a table of thongs, knocking over a display in a clumsy panic, which only makes him blush harder. it’s as if the universe is conspiring against him. 

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞 - “𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭”

you’re looking through a few brilliantly colored lace sets when he casually picks up a random pair of lacy panties. he looks at them for a moment, clearly thinking, “maybe this would look nice on her.” but then, he suddenly realizes he’s holding them up like a creep.

his eyes widen in absolute horror, and he practically flings them back onto the table, face bright red. he looks around quickly to see if anyone saw his embarrassing slip-up, only to find you watching with a small smirk.

“did you just...?” you tease, and he looks so mortified that it’s almost too cute. but hey, it’s still adorable how flustered he gets, even though he’s just trying to be sweet. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[simsdynastytree]

Character Profile Template for Sims 4

🌿 We made a Sims 4 Character Sheet, and I think you’ll love it! 🌿

Have you ever had a whole dramatic story in your head about your Sim, but no idea where to write it down? Or maybe you wanted to share your character’s backstory but didn’t know how to format it nicely? I’ve been there so many times! That’s why my designer and I created the perfect character sheet for Sims! 🎨✨ 📌 What makes it awesome? — Stylish, clean design that feels modern but still captures the Sims vibe. — Icons straight from The Sims 4! I personally extracted, sorted, and renamed them so you can easily find what you need. — All the important details in one place: traits, aspiration, career, even their home — everything that makes a Sim unique! — Super easy to use. I used to jot things down in notes or save random screenshots, but now I have (and you do too!) a beautiful, organized sheet. — It’s completely free! Because I believe in sharing cool things with the Sims community.

📥 How to get it? 🔹 Use the template in Figma: LINK 🔹 Download the Sims icons (for extra customization!): LINK

💡 How to use it? I’ve already filled out several sheets for my Sims, and it turned out to be incredibly useful! Now it’s so much easier to track dynasty stories, fill out challenge cards, or simply save the biographies of my favorite Sims so they don’t get lost. Give it a try — I’m sure you’ll love it!

If you fill one out and want to share, tag us! I’d love to see your Sims ❤️

🔽 Check out some example character sheets below!

[cameronsbabydoll]

SUGAR-COATED CHAINS — CHAPTER TWENTY

WARNINGS — some family tension, possessiveness, acts of “claiming” (?) smut mdni 18+

The chapel is bathed in warm, flickering candlelight, the scent of roses and polished wood curling through the air like something sacred. The aisle stretches endlessly before you, soft white petals cushioning each step.

It’s beautiful. Perfect.

And yet, the weight in your chest is unbearable.

You feel it pressing against your ribs as you move forward, step by step. You feel it in the murmurs around you, the subtle tension of your family’s presence—watching, but never truly seeing.

But most of all, you feel it in Rafe’s gaze.

He stands at the altar, broad and certain, his navy suit crisp against the soft gold hues of the room. He looks at you like he’s already won. Like this isn’t just a wedding—it’s a claiming.

Your heart hammers against your ribs when you reach him.

The officiant begins speaking, but the words barely register. Everything narrows to him. The way his fingers flex at his sides. The way his breath comes slow and deep, controlled. The way his eyes darken when the moment comes.

"Do you take this man—"

A pause.

Then, Rafe leans in, his voice nothing but a breath against your lips—

"Say it, angel. Say it like you mean it."

It’s not a question. Not a plea.

It’s a demand.

Your throat tightens.

"I do."

The moment the words leave your lips, something shifts.

Rafe exhales, his grip tightening when he pulls you into a kiss—deeper than necessary, longer than appropriate. The world erupts into applause, but you barely hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Because just before he pulls away, you hear it—softer than a whisper, darker than a promise.

"Mine."

And you know, this isn’t just a wedding.

It’s the final binding.

—

The reception hall glows with golden light, laughter mingling with the clink of crystal glasses and hushed conversations. It’s a picture of perfection, yet there’s an unspoken weight pressing against you.

Your family is here, but they feel distant.

Your father watches with quiet scrutiny. Your mother’s smile is careful. Your brother leans back in his chair, swirling his drink with lazy amusement.

"Didn’t think you’d go through with it," he muses, tipping his glass toward you. "Thought maybe you’d realize you weren’t built for playing house."

Your breath catches.

But before you can speak, before the sting can settle—

"She’s got more strength than any of you ever gave her credit for."

Rafe’s voice is firm, measured—but there’s something dangerous in the way his fingers curl around his glass.

Your brother raises a brow, but Rafe doesn’t flinch.

And later, when one of his friends nudges him, smirking—

"Married, huh? Thought you’d get bored of the whole ‘good girl’ thing."

Rafe doesn’t even hesitate.

"Watch what you say about my wife."

It’s not loud. Not a spectacle.

But it’s final.

And for the first time, you realize—he’s standing with you, not just for you.

—

The hotel suite is vast, drenched in golden light, the city glowing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Rafe closes the door behind you, locking out the world.

Silence.

Then, his voice—low, rich, curling around you like silk.

"Come here, angel."

Your breath catches as you step forward, your gown trailing behind you. His hands find your waist, fingers pressing into the delicate lace.

"Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?" he murmurs, his lips brushing your jaw.

You shudder.

He moves slowly, deliberately—undoing buttons, peeling away fabric, kissing every inch he reveals.

By the time he lays you down against the bed, his body slotting between your thighs, you’re already trembling.

"You're mine now," he breathes, "Say it."

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pleasure sparking like a wildfire.

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours, Rafe. Always."

His grip tightens. His movements are slow, deep—possessive.

You shatter beneath him, and when he follows, his lips crash against yours, sealing everything.

Not just love.

Ownership. Control. Finality.

And you don’t fight it.

Not yet at least.

—

The villa for your honeymoon is beautiful.

Private beaches, silk sheets, candlelit dinners on the water. It’s indulgent, extravagant—untouchable.

And Rafe keeps you wrapped in it.

"I booked a spa day for you, angel. You deserve it."
"That dress is nice, but I already had something picked out."
"You don’t have to think about anything—I’ll handle it."

It’s easy to let go.

Easier to let him take care of everything.

And when night falls, his hands trace over your skin, his lips pressing soft promises against your neck.

"You don’t need anything else, angel. Just me."

You tell yourself you believe him.

Because right now, it’s easier that way.

—

After the honeymoon Rafe immediately takes you to the home he bought you.

The house is perfect.

Handpicked, designed, curated by Rafe down to the last detail.

The nursery, too—quiet, waiting, expectant.

You step through the doorway, the scent of fresh paint still clinging to the walls. The silence is thick, wrapping around you like something permanent.

Rafe stands behind you, hands warm on your waist.

"Our home," he murmurs. "You like it?"

You hesitate. Just for a second.

His grip tightens slightly. His lips brush against your temple, voice a whisper of finality.

"Good."

The walls seem to breathe around you, the silence deepening, stretching.

And for the first time, you wonder—

Is this a home?

Or is it something else entirely?

—

Outside, the world keeps turning.

People laugh, live, love—free.

But here, inside these walls, inside his arms—

You are his.

Always.

Forever.

And there is no escape.

[ghostgirl-22]

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to but..

patrick spiking arts drink with like viagra or an aphrodisiac and then “helping him out” because he’s such a good friend <3

Oh but I want to!! <3

This is post Artrick and Patashi break up and Patrick and Art end up in Vegas at the same bachelor party for a high school friend. Maybe Art has it coming? Maybe Patrick is like the best friend he’s ever had <3

Heed all warnings cause Patrick is totally remorseless and unlike everyone who does something bad in those old black and white movies I’ve been watching lately, he absolutely gets away with it. Sorry not sorry!

CW: intoxication, secret drugging, cnc, dub con (in the sense that Art doesn’t have all the information, but he wants it, he told me). This is pretty much what it says in the ask. Obviously don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable. Not proofread.

—-

It’s bad and wrong, and wrong, and so fucking wrong.

Patrick might tell the truth later. Might let Art get back at him because even for him this is kinda fucked up. But to be fair, he only did it because he was horny. And maybe he wanted a little revenge.

It all started at the bachelor party. It’s the first time they’d seen each other since Tashi’s injury and everything. 

Both of them trying to put it all aside for their high school buddy Addison’s Vegas bachelor party. He’s hosting it with his husband to be…this older, rich tech company guy. Patrick thinks it’s a bit annoying. Even if he was gonna marry some dude he wouldn’t want the guy crashing his bachelor party— he should have his own and hang out with his own friends. but that’s beside the point. 

Patrick thought Art wouldn’t dare show up because Patrick was always closer with Addison. Art probably thought the same thing about him. And yet…surprise. 

Thankfully they barely have a minute alone together sober. Sober, Art is so cool. 

Cool. 

Cold. 

Icy, even. 

Totally Remorseless. They make small talk. He’s dating her now, the little shit. She’s coaching him. He’s playing Indian Wells in a few months. Patrick ponders hating Art. He doesn’t know if he’s quite there yet but it feels like he’s close. 

He still looks so pretty though. 

It’s a reunion of sorts. A lot of their old teammates came. Addison rented the penthouse suite in the Bellagio, private elevator, crazy views… fifteen guys… seven rooms, not that anyone plans to sleep.

Art and Patrick had been known to read each others minds in the past and it feels like that hasn’t changed. Apparently they’ve silently agreed that the last thing they want is people asking things like… “what the fuck happened? you two used to be so close.” Which is how they end up in this unspoken truce pretending like it’s all normal between them. All the way down to the expectation of them sharing a room. Which is fine because, again, no one is really planning on sleeping.

Everyone meets up in the afternoon and they start in the casino. Getting tipsy on watered down liquor while they all spend way too much money. All of them rich kids, or recovering rich kids. Patrick’s not using his parents money but he’s still reckless like he is, so certain he’s gonna make it all back on the craps table.  Art doesn’t gamble so Patrick decides to make him blow on his dice, as a joke the way girls do in movies. of course he wins it all back and quite a bit more on a real risky bet. It’s annoying in the way. He’s glad he won but it feels like it’s Art that can’t lose. Suddenly everyone at the table is asking him to bless their dice. Like he’s just so fucking lucky all the time. 

Patrick doesn’t push his own luck. Whatever the fuck is left of it.

The whole group cleans up and goes out to dinner in the evening. They catch up on their lives since school and tell silly, fun, embarrassing stories to Addison’s husband to be. Afterwords they go to a show. A magic show. Tipsy and cheering at the tricks like they’re back in 6th grade. It’s easy. It’s fun, actually. He barely has to be alone with Art.

By 11pm they’ve started bouncing around the strip from club to club. Bar to bar. Party to party. Mostly gay bars and drag shows which no one minds because honestly they all just love Addison so much. They’re getting properly drunk now. 

It’s then when Art begins getting attention on a level that even he’s not used to from all these really hot guys… that’s when everything gets messy. Drunk and flushed, Art has no idea how to receive any of it except to turn all his repressed homosexual energy back onto the safest target. Patrick.

“We’ll just pretend to be together, you know? So they stop…touching me.” He explains loudly in Patrick’s ear.

Patrick smiles, just about drunk enough to put up with this bullshit. “Okay…fine… whatever… fuck it.”

It doesn’t feel pretend though, especially when they end up soaking wet at this all night foam party just downstairs in their hotel. It’s way too late at night, so many guys jumping up and down all sweaty and hot. Boys kissing. Touching. Shirts unbuttoned, the music too loud, skin too soft. Art hanging all over him, so drunk they actually start grinding to the music. The bass competing with Patrick’s heartbeat for which can go faster.  Feelings so complicated Patrick might need 24 hours in the psych ward to sort it all out. 

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas right? 

Patrick needs a minute. He leaves Art alone, barely able to take anymore. He uses the excuse of needing the restroom. It’s not even a second before at least two guys are swooping in, competing to take his place, one of them their other teammate Lachlan who’s got a wife at home and a child on the way. 

God. 

Patrick needs another fucking drink. Addisons already at the bar and Patrick leans in next to him. 

“What’s that?” He asks Addison as he’s adding powder to his glass.

“It’s a magic pill,” Addison laughs.

”Magic?” Patrick hiccups. 

“Yeah like… like horny candy.” 

Patrick pouts, brows raised in confusion. maybe he’s a little too drunk for this game.

“Viagra. Sometimes i spike my boyfriend— my fiancés drink with it. See.” He holds up a little pill and crushes it under his glass on the bar

Patrick laughs. “Isn’t that kinda fucked up?”  

“Well…I mean… probably yes… but you know he’s older. So I feel like I’m doing this for his ego.” Addison explains.

“Hm,” Patrick ponders. “Have you ever tried it?”

“I’ve had a sip of his drink before when i didn’t want him to know i spiked it. We ended up going at it all fucking night.” Addison grins. “It’s not necessarily for guys our age…but there’s no harm in it as long as it doesn’t last more than four hours i guess. which is easy if you just fuck. Here. You can take one with your… boyfriend? girlfriend?”

the way Patrick feels right now, his dick is so hard he can’t even fathom the point of viagra but he lets Addison drop the pill in his hand anyway. who knows? He’ll be 24 in six months. A proper grown up. maybe his dick will be the next part of his body that will lose the will to live.

“Are you still bisexual Pat?” Addison leans in stroking Patrick’s bare chest. “Cause we’re kinda open and wouldn’t mind trying it with you tonight, and you know… the more the merrier if you want blondie to join us.”

They both glance at Art, dancing all drunk and unabashed between both guys. their hands all over his lithe figure while the speaker blares Bad Romance by Lady Gaga.  

Patrick rolls his eyes and looks back at Addison. “He may be a fucking tease but we both know he would never. But I think I need more to drink before I get back to you.”

“Well…You know where to find us… preferably before this kicks in!” Addison raises his glass. 

Patrick waves to the bartender, fingering the pill in his other hand. Then it sort of hits him like a ton of bricks. This nasty idea. More than a little fucked up. He almost wants to touch himself just thinking about it. 

He orders two drinks. Rum and coke. Nothing crazy different than what they’ve been drinking all night. Crushes the pill into dust under the cold glass and swirls his finger with the powder into the glass he wants to give to Art..

Oh he feels a little gross. Most people around him too drunk… the bartender too busy to notice what he’s doing. 

Art doesn’t think twice; he trusts Patrick so much. What a wonder to betray someone and still think you can trust them so completely. like none of it matters. Art let’s Patrick “save” him from the other boys touching him.

“I swear i feel like Lach was turned on,” he hiccups, swallowing the drink down. “Like I could feel his… you know what.” He continues in Patrick’s ear. 

”Really? Could you?” Patrick asks, dryly. Stupid. He still acts so… innocent oblivious. Patrick just wants to fuck shake him. He’s beyond hating Art. He doesn’t hate him. Could never hate him. He does hate that after all this fucking time he’s still not over him. 

It doesn’t take long for Art to feel it. He’s back to clinging to Patrick. All over him as a way to keep the other boys away. Patrick starts to notice him adjusting himself, getting breathy, getting anxious. Gripping a little too tightly.   

“Uh I need um…um…  is it too hot in here?” He says in Patrick’s ear. “I need water.” 

“What?” Patrick asks like he didn’t hear him. Keeps his body pressed close, hot breath in Patrick’s ear.

“The room… I think I need to go back to the room.” 

Patrick shrugs. They tell a couple of the guys they’re leaving. And of course get teased for being lightweights at 4 in the morning. Only in Vegas. 

Art has his eyes closed, knees knocked together, too drunk, so aroused. He’s resting the side of his head against the wall of the private elevator as they make their way up to penthouse.

”Sleepy?” Patrick asks, standing in his space. 

Art’s all glassy eyed, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide when he gazes at Patrick. “Um… yeah… yeah.” He stammers.  

Patrick smirks, tangles his fingers into Arts damp hair. He hums, eyes closed immediately, lips parted. And then the elevator dings and Patrick lets go. Arts eyes open and he stumbles out behind Patrick. 

In the room Art’s trying to hide it from Patrick. Trying to keep himself together. He drinks a lot of water from the mini fridge. Tries to go in the bathroom but Patirck gets there first. Not to pee or anything, he’s too fucking hard for that. Probably just to keep Art from jerking himself silly over the toilet. 

Patrick strips down to his boxers for sleep. Brushes his teeth in the mirror. The whole time he’s tenting, so ridiculously aroused, thinking of Art squirming, Viagra unknowingly coursing through his system. 

Patrick decides he’s probably not a good person but right now he doesn’t fucking care. 

He reaches inside his boxers to adjust himself before returning to the bedroom, but he has to touch himself just a little first. A few gentle jerks over the length of his dick and he’s catching his breath. He tucks himself up, snug against the waistband of his boxers and takes a few deep breaths. 

When he walks back in the bedroom, Art is sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand down his pants, tugging himself, little soft moans escaping his lips. He panics when he sees Patrick and tries to save face but it’s kinda too late. 

“Uh sorry… uh… it’s not—” 

“You like boys Art?” Patrick teases.

“No… I just… I think I’m overstimulated.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah I… I… it was a lot of touching. I was…” he takes a deep breath. “I mean I know I was a little bit um… turned on when they were…when the three of us were…when I could feel…” 

“When they had you sandwiched between them?”

”Fuck.” He whispers. “yeah a little…i guess more than I thought.” He admits. 

Patrick sits next to him on the bed. “Yeah me too.” He pads his palm over the outline of his own cock. 

Art staring, fingers gripping the sheets as he whispers a barely audible, “Jesus.”  

“We could… maybe… help each other out,” Patrick suggests.

Art looks up at his face, eyes narrowed.

”I mean nothing would change. It’d just be a one time favor between… old friends.”

Art looks down again, knee bouncing. Desperate enough to say: “Okay um…you mean like jerk off together? Like in high school?”

“Or…” Patrick gets on his knees on the floor in front him. 

“Patrick I—I’m not gonna do—“ he stammers. 

“I’m not asking you to… do you want me to do it to you or not?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath and then he nods.

Patrick moves between his thighs and tugs his zipper down further, eases his boxers down and hears Art let out a gentle gasp as his cock is released. Oh it’s painfully full. Poor thing he’s practically humping into Patrick’s mouth the moment he gets contact. 

“Mm, fuck,” Art sighs relieved to get the sensation. Patrick almost wants to touch himself. Can feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears while licking all along the base. Taking his time, swirling his tongue around the tip. He looks up at Art as he does it. He’s got his eyes closed, one hand holding himself upright on the bed and two fingers of his other hand shoved deep into his mouth as he moans around them. 

Oh. Right. Fucking oral fixation. Patrick’s drunk brain vaguely supplies. 

He’s distracted for a minute while kissing along the tip, licking, teasing, sucking and watching Art slide his fingers into and out of his mouth. Gorgeous little thing. 

Patrick severely underestimates how close he is.  And suddenly his face is getting painted with heated pearly liquid. “Oh.. ohfuckfuck’msorry… fuck.” Art groans around his fingers, hitching his hips involuntarily as more and more spurts out. 

Patrick opens his mouth and catches some on his tongue, he can’t help laughing a bit at how fucking crazy all of this is. On the floor of the penthouse suite at the Bellagio and he’s on his knees for his ex best friend who’s all drugged out on harddick medicine, and probably just gave him his first ever facial.

Patrick wipes a lot of it off on his arm and thumbs some of the excess off his cheek and nose, licking it into his mouth. “Well fuck.” He breathes. “You got a lot of that in you.” 

“Oh god…I didn’t mean to…Jesus, Pat look….” Art whines. Somehow he’s still almost as hard as he was before. 

Patrick runs his fingertips gently over the length, still spasming lightly. “You really had fun tonight huh?” 

“Oh fuck… this never… this never h-happens.” He stammers.  

“Really? You don’t get this turned on for women?”

Art presses his lips together, like he doesn’t want to admit to anything. He sits on his hands. “I um…” 

“Why don’t we try this,” Patrick says. “Don’t freak out…”  He goes to his travel bag for lube. 

“What—“ Art begins when he sees it. 

“I said relax,” Patrick says. 

Art leans back on his elbows as Patrick straddles him. “What are we doing?” 

“You already fucking jizzed in my face, just relax. You owe me this.” 

Art takes another shaky breath. Patrick covers his palm in lube and covers Art’s heavy, swollen cock. Art groans and shivers at the feel of it. So fucking sensitive. Patrick eases his own out and then takes them both in hand, lined up he starts jerking. Both of them moaning immediately, like a chorus, the sound filling up the room.

It’s sinful actually. The way it sounds. It’s probably something that would’ve made Art cry when he was 14 and so very afraid of drinking alcohol and swear words and sex before marriage. 

Now he’s moaning like a whore  around his fingertips, hips jerking up into Patrick’s fist, both of their cocks heated and swollen. Patrick is barely hanging on. He wonders if anyone else came home. If they can hear them fucking, neither of them holding back as Patrick moves faster and faster. 

Art falls apart seconds later, come coating Patrick’s palm, dripping between his fingers. and then Patrick’s following shortly after. Shooting spurts of come, aiming some at Art’s bare chest maybe as a little bit of payback. “Take them out of your mouth,” Patrick hisses. Art gazes up at him and slowly pulls his fingers out.   

Patrick pushes him all the way down on the bed and kisses him roughly. Art drawing his knees up, socked feet flat on the bed and arching into it. Tongues and spit everywhere. Patrick taking a minute to replace his lips on Art’s mouth with his come stained fingers. just to feel the eager way Art sucks them in, pulling hard with his tongue. If Art realizes he’s tasting himself, tasting Patrick, he isn’t complaining. 

Patrick pulls out, wet and sloppy and turns Art’s pretty face back into the kiss, deepening it till he’s moaning into Patrick’s mouth. Doing everything he can for more of the sensation. Grinding his hips up, his still heavy cock sliding along Patrick’s bottom. 

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans because it’s still so hard. “You wanna fuck me?” 

“mm, my god,” is all Art can manage. 

“I won’t tell your girlfriend.” 

That draws him out of whatever messy trance he’s in and Art pulls away from Patrick, panting. “Oh god… why won’t it go away? ‘m is there something wrong with me?” He whines, suddenly teary eyed. 

“Like what?” Patrick asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to over do it.  

“I dunno… I dunno. I’m so… did i drink too much? I just… i just wanna… i feel so fucking horny…and I can’t calm down. I just… i wanna just… fuck. I’m… I’m so sorry, Patrick.”

Tired and drunk and overstimulated from all the sex he starts getting emotional. “I’m so sorry for everything. I think I love you. I think I’m fucking in love with you, Patrick. I think about you all the time when I’m fuck—”

”Okay shut the fuck up,” Patrick snaps gently, because the last thing he wants is to feel bad for him on a sentence like that. The last thing he wants is to spiral thinking about the two of them together getting everything they want without him. “You want my help?”

”Yes,” Art sniffles.   

“Here…” he hands Art the rest of the lube. “put this on and just… you can fuck me till you’re all fucked out. just imagine I’m a fucking fleshlight or something.” 

“Really?” He hiccups, and he looks so grateful like he’s gonna cry again. 

“Hey… come on, stop man. Just… I’m doing you a favor. Don’t fucking cry about it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and wipes his nose on the back of his palm. “I’m sorry. you’re right. Thank you so much. I’m sorry.” 

Patrick rolls his eyes and settles onto the pillow. he’s going to hell probably. Art is so fucking drunk, thinks he’s just trying to come down from some normal night where he got too overwhelmed. He thinks Patrick is just being such a good friend. 

It’s so fucking messed up but honestly it also feels really fucking good. Covered in lube. His unbearably repressed ex best friends dick, the same dick he’s been dreaming about since the first time he saw it. That pretty dick pumping in and out of him over and over again. 

“And don’t worry,” he whispers to Art. “it’s not even gay” because Patrick is just helping him relax. “It’s not even real sex I promise.” Even though Patrick can’t count how many times Art comes. Maybe 4, maybe 7. How many times Patrick’s nutted all over the pristine hotel sheets. He knows he’s managed to spill at least 3 times before Art is finally done, done. And Patrick is covered in his come and sweat and spit and tears he couldn’t be happier.

Art nearly wets himself in his rush to get to the bathroom after it all. Probably just relieved to finally be able to go. 

Patrick is so pleasantly sore and drunk and warm. He’s still covered in the sticky mess of it, knowing it’ll be much grosser on waking but he can’t bring himself to move. Art stumbles, back into the king sized bed, moving away from the wet spot but still burying his head near the crook of Patrick’s head and shoulder. So yummy.

He’ll probably tell Art at some point, maybe. Possibly. But right now the city is hungover, the sun is peeking in through the black out curtains and Patrick hasn’t felt this satisfied in a very long time. So easy… he drifts off into a peaceful sleep. 

(Flop era going strong. Sorry so long y’all. I couldn’t stop yapping.)

[dearlenore]

hiiiii

Tim Bradford x reader where she's pregnant. and nesting. Tim would be all over that I feel.

This has gotta be my favorite thing ever I’m obsesseddd🥹💋 this one might be the fluffiest I’ve written too❤️

HELLO BABY • T.BRADFORD

SUMMARY: Tim comes home to an unexpectedly motivated reader, cleaning, building and painting the nursery for their little girl

PAIRING: SAHM!reader x Tim Bradford

tags: PURE FLUFF, reader wears ‘feminine’ clothes, mentions of pregnancy , nesting mentions, Tim is very confused

a/n: first time writing Tim so be nice to me please…

w/c: 1.1K

Tim Bradford was exhausted. Thirteen hours on shift, three foot pursuits, and one particularly annoying rookie later, all he wanted was to come home, take a shower, and collapse into bed with you. He’d been looking forward to it all day—the feeling of your body curled against his, the scent of your shampoo, the sound of your voice reminding him he was more than just a cop with a badge.

But the second he stepped into the house, he knew something was off.

The scent of fresh paint hit him first, sharp and unmistakable. Then came the sound—faint music Sabrina Carpenter from your phone, the occasional shuffle of movement, and the distinct thunk of something being assembled. Tim frowned, toeing off his boots as he followed the noise down the hall.

And there you were.

Eight months pregnant in overalls, standing on your tiptoes, rolling paint onto the nursery wall. A half-assembled crib lay in pieces beside you along with your nightgown, instructions crumpled but ignored. A screwdriver sat on top of a pile of screws that definitely should have been in the furniture instead of scattered across the floor.

Tim stared. Blinked. Rubbed a hand down his face before speaking.

“What. The hell. Are you doing?”

You startled at his voice, turning to look at him over your shoulder. A streak of light pink paint ran across your cheek, your hair was a mess, and yet you had the nerve to smile at him like you hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

“Preparations.”

Tim exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can see that. But you’re supposed to be resting, not turning the nursery into a DIY disaster zone.”

You huffed, placing the paint roller down. “I was waiting for you to get home, but you were working late, and I had all this energy, so I figured I might as well—”

“No.” Tim stepped forward, hands settling on your waist as he guided you away from the paint tray. “Babe, you’re carrying our kid, not a whole-ass toolbox. You should be lying down, not climbing on step stools and putting together cribs.”

“I wasn’t climbing,” you defended, avoiding his knowing stare.

Tim arched a brow. “You sure about that?”

You pursed your lips. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You need to slow down or you’ll be the death of us both.”

You grinned. “But you love me.”

“I do,” he admitted, voice soft. “Which is exactly why you need to let me handle this stuff, okay?”

Your hands came up to rest on his chest, fingers tracing absent patterns over his vest. “I just wanted everything to be perfect before she gets here.”

Tim’s expression softened. He knew how much this meant to you. He’d seen the baby books on your nightstand, the way you planned every little detail down to the crib sheets and wall decals. But you didn’t have to do this alone—not when he was here.

“She’s already got the most perfect mom in the world,” he murmured, brushing his lips against yours. “So how about you let me take over, and you sit down before I have to arrest you for reckless endangerment of my pregnant wife?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but relenting. “Fine. But I’m supervising.”

Tim chuckled. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As he helped you settle onto the nursery rocking chair, he grabbed the screwdriver and eyed the crib parts with determination. He might’ve spent the last thirteen hours chasing bad guys, but apparently, his real challenge was about to be assembling baby furniture with no instructions.

Tim had faced shootouts, car chases, and criminals twice his size without breaking a sweat. But as he sat cross-legged on the nursery floor, staring down at the disassembled crib like it was an active crime scene, he was starting to think this might be his toughest challenge yet.

You, comfortably perched in the nursery’s new rocking chair with a glass of water in hand, were thoroughly enjoying the show.

“You know,” you mused, watching as he flipped the instruction manual upside down, “I did start putting it together already.”

Tim shot you a look, then gestured to the mess of screws and wooden panels scattered around him. “Yeah, and I’m trying to undo whatever chaos you unleashed before I got home.”

You smirked, shifting to get more comfortable. “I was making progress.”

“You put two of the legs on backward.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair before glancing back at you. “You really should be in bed.”

“I was in bed. Then I got bored.” You sipped your water, giving him your most innocent look. “Besides, if I went to sleep, I would’ve missed this.”

“This?”

“The rare sight of Tim Bradford struggling.”

He pointed a screwdriver at you. “Careful. I could make you finish this yourself.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and despite the exhaustion still clinging to him from his shift, Tim felt the tension in his body ease. It didn’t matter how tired he was—being here with you, working on something for her, made everything else fade into the background.

A comfortable silence settled between you as he focused on assembling the crib. Every so often, you’d make an observation (“Are you sure that piece goes there?”), and he’d remind you, gently, that he knew what he was doing. (He didn’t.)

Eventually, after some cursing under his breath, an unnecessary amount of re-reading the instructions, and one incident where the crib almost collapsed on itself, he finally tightened the last screw and sat back with a victorious sigh.

“There,” he declared, brushing his hands off. “One fully operational crib, courtesy of your incredibly capable husband.”

You grinned. “I don’t know, I think she’ll have to test it herself before I give you full credit.”

Tim rolled his eyes, pushing himself up to his feet before walking over to where you sat. He rested a hand on your belly, feeling the soft movement of your breath beneath his palm.

“She’s gonna love it,” he murmured, voice softer now. “And she’s gonna love you even more.”

Your eyes glistened, and you covered his hand with yours. “We built a crib today, Tim.”

He smirked. “Correction. I built a crib today. You provided comedic relief at best.”

You swatted his arm, but your smile stayed. “First of all, my comedic relief is amazing and helpful. Second of all I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

Tim leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before dropping another one to your belly. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice full of something so deep and unshakable it made your heart squeeze. “Me neither.”

[kunareads]

if i believe you | chapter four

draw me after you

clan head!satoru x reader

prev / next series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 3.4k

content: i ended up splitting this chapter because i think this amount of fluff needs room to breathe (and reader deserves good things and happy feelings). please enjoy because next chapter will not be nearly as happy and soft as this!

INTERACT HERE FOR TAGLIST!

18+ please <3

your garden feels wild in the evening. leaves spill over a stone pathway as vines climb the trellises, threading through gaps like they want to swallow them whole.

you’re in the grass, legs folded beneath you, hands resting in your lap. satoru found you out here not too long ago and sat across from you, his back pressed against the trunk of a tree, limbs sprawled out and occupying as much space as possible.

“what’s your favorite time of day?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

you glance at him, hesitant, but his expression is expectant. “late at night.”

he quirks a brow in amusement. “didn’t take you for a troublemaker.”

you shake your head lightly. “i just like when everything’s quiet.”

there’s a pause, and then he says, “your turn,” with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i asked you a question, now you get to ask me one.”

you hesitate. you certainly have questions, but you’re not sure they fit in this conversation. so you go with the safest one you can find.

“your favorite time of day?”

“sunrise.”

that surprises you. “why?”

he shrugs, still playing with the earth. “feels like i have the whole world to myself.”

you try to picture him that way—alone at dawn, the world still sleeping. maybe it suits him. an hour or two at peace before anyone can demand anything of him.

“i think we’re opposites, then,” you say. “you like the start of things, i like the end.”

his expression softens. “guess that just means we have the whole day covered.”

you smile at that, and the conversation drifts from there. favorite snacks. the worst places you’ve slept. things you could live without forever, and the things you never want to lose.

you don’t know when it happens, but you stop measuring your words. the hesitation is still there, but it’s smaller.

“what’s something you’ve always wanted to try?” he asks.

“travel. i’ve never been anywhere.”

his brows furrow. “not even once?”

“never.”

he hums, thoughtful. “well, we have to change that.”

you glance at him, trying to gauge if he’s joking. but he’s watching you with that same softness, the words hovering like he’s offered you an invitation you’re not sure you can reach for.

“maybe.” your voice is quieter now. “what about you?” you ask.

“scuba diving.”

the response is so immediate and so unexpected that you can’t help but smile. “you don’t seem like a scuba diver.”

he grins, feigning offense. “i can’t be adventurous?”

“i think you might be enough trouble on land.”

his laugh spills out, rich and unrestrained, making your own smile widen.

the conversation shifts again, like neither of you want to linger on anything that requires too much thought. you find yourself telling him about your family. descriptions come slowly, like you’re not even sure what you’re trying to say.

your father, strict but steadfast. a leader in the only way he knew how. discipline over affection, standards over kindness. his love was earned.

your mother, obedient and devoted. loving in the way she was taught to be. her affection was careful, measured—delivered only when you met expectations and rationed to avoid spoiling you.

their approval was the closest thing to love you’ve ever really felt, and you became very good at earning it. good at keeping yourself small and quiet, at doing what you were told, at following rules so well they’d never have to doubt you.

you don’t realize how much you’re saying until you realize how much satoru is listening. it’s almost unnerving, the way he just lets you speak without steering the conversation where he wants it to go. like he’s content to let you lead, to study your words.

“i miss it, sometimes,” you admit quietly. the words feel like they’ll shatter if you say them too loud.

he doesn’t respond right away, but you can feel his attention locked onto you.

“and the parts you don’t miss?”

you go silent.

you’ve never considered it before. never even thought to split your memories into good and bad, wanted and unwanted. you don’t have an answer because you’ve never looked for one.

satoru doesn’t press. he just watches, waiting to see if you’ll find the words or if you still need time to understand it.

“i don’t think i could’ve survived in your house.” he shifts, stretching his arms behind his head. “i used to get in trouble all the time.”

“not surprising,” you reply.

he grins. “i would skip classes with my friends. sneak off, cause way too much destruction on missions—oh, and pissing off the old guys in charge. that was my specialty.”

“sounds irresponsible.”

“that was the point.”

you think he sounds kind of sad. the way he talks about it, all reckless charm and nostalgia, feels unfinished—like he’s trying not to remember something he didn’t mean to miss.

you unfold your legs, stretching them out in front of you. the air is cooling now, and you listen to the sound of the trees, let it fill the silence where words go. satoru’s gaze slides over you, something almost careful in the way he’s watching. like he’s trying to take you in without crowding you.

you swallow. “do you… miss them? your friends?”

the question feels fragile. out of place. he considers you for a moment, and you can’t tell if you’ve overstepped. but he lifts his brows like you’ve just asked him something fascinating. he’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning either.

“yeah. sometimes.” the answer is casual, but there’s rawness there. “one of them still works at the school. maybe you can meet her sometime.”

it’s quiet for a while. he shifts, his leg resting near yours. “what about you?” he asks. “what’s something you miss?”

he’s watching you now, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you feel like the truth is the only acceptable answer.

“i—” your sentence falters as you sort through the increasingly tangled mess in your head. “i miss… feeling sure of myself.”

it feels wrong when you say it. wrong but true, scraping against something raw, bleeding from some unidentified wound.

“i always knew what was expected of me,” you continue. “i knew what i was supposed to be. even if it wasn’t… easy, it made sense.”

“and now?” it’s quiet, not demanding. an invitation to admit something you’ve been trying not to acknowledge. it makes you want to keep talking.

“now…” you draw in a slow breath. “now i don’t know if i’m doing anything right.”

he’s silent for a moment. not because he doesn’t care, but because the admission hits something in him that he can’t understand.

it feels wrong to him that you’re questioning yourself at all. like you’ve been taught to doubt yourself so deeply that the smallest gesture of ease feels like rebellion. it makes him want to fix it, somehow.

“i think you’re doing fine,” he says eventually. the words are so casual, but they leave a warmth in your chest. “more than fine, actually.”

it’s not the kind of reassurance you’re used to. you glance at him, something small and shy curling in your chest. it’s not a compliment, not really. it’s just the way he says it. like a simple, sudden truth.

the coolness of the night settles in as the sky darkens. you feel more aware of the ground beneath you, the roughness of the grass, the warmth that radiates off of satoru.

“what was your favorite part of being a kid?” he asks, his voice lightening again, a lifeline out of the heaviness.

it feels safe, easier than his other questions. your fingers trace absent shapes against your lap, the motion soothing. “being outside. my mother kept a garden, and i would help her sometimes. picking herbs, planting new seeds.”

“your mother taught you to garden?” he asks.

“sort of.” you pause, the memory slipping free. “she taught me to do things properly. but i liked the parts where she wasn’t paying attention. when i could just do everything how i wanted.” it feels like too much, like you’re giving away something intimate. you look away, eyes falling to the tangled mess of greenery. “it was different, the way she did things. her garden was perfect.”

satoru follows your gaze, picking a dandelion near your foot. “and this?” he gestures to the wilderness surrounding you. “this is you doing things how you want?”

“i think so.”

his smile is soft. “good.”

something relaxes in your chest. “what about you?” you ask, trying to pull the attention away from yourself. “what was your favorite part of being a kid?”

he pauses. “getting away with murder. figuratively. mostly.”

you snort before you can stop yourself. the sound bubbles out of you like a hiccup, breaking the quiet in a way that feels almost obscene.

his laugh follows yours, pleased and unrestrained, proud of himself for bringing that out of you. “what? it was fun.”

“i’m sure.” you can’t keep the amusement of your voice. something about him, so shameless and unapologetic, makes your own hesitation feel ridiculous. he grins, and for a moment, there’s nothing between you but the hum of the garden.

but then he says, “you do that a lot,” almost to himself. you wonder if he meant to say it out loud.

“do what?” you ask, already feeling your shoulders stiffen.

“wait before you speak.” his fingers play idly with the dandelion he picked earlier. “like you’re checking to see if you’re allowed to answer.”

the words don’t hit particularly hard, but they find something tender. something you didn’t know was there until he pressed against it. “i…” you stop. inhale. “i didn’t realize i was doing that.”

“lemme guess.” his voice is low, playful, but not fully. “a lady doesn’t interrupt?”

your lips press together, your gaze falling to your hands. the truth feels too obvious. of course he’s right. he usually is, and maybe you’re starting to think it’s a little irritating.

“it’s polite,” you say finally, the words small. brittle.

“yeah?” his voice is soft, the usual teasing smoothed out. “bet i’d give your mother a heart attack.”

the laugh escapes before you can swallow it down. you’re not sure what it says about you, that you’re laughing at something like this. maybe that’s why it feels like something worth hiding, but you can’t.

and satoru’s grin is immediate. broad and satisfied, like he’s won something. like he’s going to keep winning.

he’s proud of himself for making you laugh, you realize. and that’s… comforting? confusing?

you shake your head, but you don’t correct him. because maybe she would hate him. and for the first time ever, you don’t care. it sits in your chest, unfamiliar, like something you shouldn’t touch but reach for anyway.

+++

satoru is the one who suggested snacks, but not because he was hungry. he just wasn’t ready for the closeness to end.

the air outside had felt light, easy. something about you letting your guard down, even a little, made him want to keep the moment going. so he led you inside, playing it off with a careless grin and a lazy stretch of his arms.

“wait here,” he’d said, flashing you a smile before wandering off toward the kitchen. “be back in a second.”

the fact that you didn’t immediately make some polite excuse to leave didn’t go unnoticed. so he gathered whatever snacks he could find, anticipation growing in his chest. he felt like a teenager with a crush.

now, he finds you in the small sitting area off the main hall—a cozy, quiet space that feels far removed from the rest of the house. a low table with cushions around it, the soft glow of lanterns painting the room in amber.

you look less guarded than usual, like something from before still hasn’t settled back into place. it’s something he’d like to see more of.

“i think the staff have been moving things around to mess with me,” he says as he slides down next to you, a tray of fruit and cookies in one hand. “they can’t outsmart me though.”

he’s rewarded with the faintest twitch of your lips.

he sets the tray in front of you and leans back, watching you reach for a piece of fruit with more hesitance than he’d like.

he’s talking just to keep you there, rambling about the kitchen staff and their obsession with organizing things to the point of madness. you respond, sometimes with words, sometimes with a hum of acknowledgement. but you’re not withdrawing.

he bites into a cookie he doesn’t even want, pretending not to notice the way you move, the way your gaze keeps flickering toward him. it’s only when he shifts to make himself more comfortable that his fingers brush yours on the cushions. a light touch, nothing worth noticing—except that you both do.

the words between you taper off until the quiet feels charged. he notices the way you look at him, how your gaze lingers a little too long before you look away, then back again. like you’re searching for something you can’t quite find.

you’re closer now than you were a moment ago. he’s sure of it.

“didn’t think you’d actually wait for me,” he says. it’s meant to sound playful, but it comes out too soft.

you blink, the faintest hint of confusion flitting across your expression. “you told me to.”

“yeah, but—” he pauses, his finger tracing a line over yours on the cushion. “you could’ve just said you were tired and called it a night.”

your eyes lower, like you’re deciding what to say to that. or if you’re supposed to say anything at all.

“maybe i wasn’t ready to say goodnight.”

the words are so quiet he almost thinks he imagined them. but the way you say it, soft and uncertain, makes something in his chest unwind. his gaze fixes on you now with something he’s not sure he wants to name. something that feels tender and reckless and good.

you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for him to do something. maybe you don’t even realize it, but he certainly does.

he leans in, just enough to see if you’ll flinch, if you’ll draw back into the shell you’ve been living in since your wedding. but you don’t. if anything—if his eyes don’t deceive him—you shift a little closer.

“you know,” his voice comes out lower than he intended. “you’re really bad at pretending you’re not looking at me.”

your face immediately heats up. you don’t deny it. he grins, but it feels more like an admission than a joke. “it’s okay. i’m looking at you, too.”

there’s something so simple about the statement. so stupidly honest. it’s like he’s daring himself to say what he’s been circling around for days.

“you gonna let me kiss you, angel?”

it’s only half-serious. satoru expects you to tense up, to blink at him with that same guarded look you always have when he teases you.

but you’re looking at him without a hint of protest.

“yeah?” he whispers.

you nod. just barely, but it’s enough. he leans in before his stomach can do another somersault.

it’s nothing. a brush of his mouth against yours, enough to test the waters, to feel the warmth of your lips before he pulls back to gauge your reaction. your eyes are wide, but your shoulders are relaxed, your breathing steady, even if it’s a little too careful.

he lingers there, trying to make sense of what you’re feeling—and what he’s feeling. he’s more intentional about this than he’s ever been about anything.

but there’s nothing in your expression that tells him you’re afraid, so he leans in again.

it’s deeper this time. still careful, but not hesitant. his lips press more firmly against yours, his head tilting slightly to see how much you’re willing to give. to see if you’ll give him more.

his hand moves on instinct, fingers lifting to cradle your jaw. the touch is gentle, the pressure light, like he’s scared you’ll break if he moves too quickly.

you don’t break. you let him kiss you, mirroring his movements as best you can. like you’re learning what it feels like to want something. realization settles.

this isn’t pressure. it’s not something you have to endure. it’s something you’re allowed to explore.

he pulls back, but only just. he’s close enough to see the way your lips part, like you’re trying to find the right words and coming up empty. you’re looking at him like you’re not sure what happened.

and then your hand moves.

it feels like a second-guess even as you’re doing it, your hand as shaky as your breath. your fingers brush against his jaw and settle on his cheek, the contact so light that it’s almost not there.

he looks at you with fascination, his gaze dropping to your mouth. and then, slowly, your thumb traces over his bottom lip. just once—more curious than anything.

something inside him stutters. for once, you’re asking him for something.

you’re the one who leans in this time.

your mouth presses against his, clumsy but sure. you kiss him with the kind of caution that makes him want to ruin you, just to see what you’d look like with that gentleness stripped away.

but he stays soft, pliant. lets you take what you want, even if you’re not sure what that is.

without meaning to, you notice things. the way his hand feels against your face, the small, idle circles he traces over your skin, the slight part of his lips. he’s careful and patient and it makes you want to thank him. your chest feels tight, your heartbeat skipping. you’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel right now, but you know you don’t want this to end.

the feel of your mouth against his is something satoru knows he won’t be able to forget. he’s already dreading the fact that he doesn’t know when you’ll let him do this again.

he deepens the kiss, just slightly. not aggressive, not demanding. it’s just… more. his fingers move up from your jaw and into your hair, the touch soothing you.

you realize with startling clarity that you want him. that you want him to keep kissing you. and it knocks the air out of you, because wanting something isn’t something you should to do. want feels like an admission of need.

when he breaks the kiss, his lips don’t go far. they trail to the corner of your mouth, tracing a path over your cheek, then lower, grazing along the line of your jaw.

it’s… too much. but not how you’d expected. not in a way that feels wrong, not in a way that hurts. it’s warm, real, and your chest feels like it’s going to collapse.

it’s not until his lips brush against the spot just beneath your jaw, where your pulse flutters a little too fast, that you gasp. it’s small, but it feels raw and unfamiliar. like something stolen from a part of you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

he feels it before you do. the way your shoulders go rigid, as if your own reaction is something you need to hide.

then you pull away.

he doesn’t chase you. just watches as you blink, like you’re trying to wake yourself up from a dream you didn’t mean to fall into. your eyes are wide, your breathing shallow, but you’re not scared. you’re just… startled.

he’s bracing for your apology, for you to retreat into reservation. he’s about to say something—anything to break the tension that’s suddenly wrapped itself around you—when you smile.

small at first, a hint of warmth, something shy. then wider, brighter. like you’re trying to convince yourself that this is real and not imagined. it feels like something he’s not supposed to see.

“okay?” he asks.

you shake your head, exhaling like you can’t believe yourself. “that was nice.”

he watches you a moment longer, his lips twitching. the way you’re looking at him makes him feel like he’s finally done something important.

“yeah?”

you nod, hugging your knees. your cheeks are flushed, your hands trembling slightly. but you look happy.

he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. and then he grins, something easy and genuine spilling across his face. “guess i did something right, then.”

you laugh, and the sound is real.

[dumbingofage]

hi, I have a question about Charlie if you don’t mind? is she autistic/is that why she spaces out as much as she does? asking bc I have an autistic friend who mentioned feeling frustrated with spacing out, and I’m wondering if the head pressure thing would help for her but I’ve zero clue where to find info on it (google is unfortunately unhelpful). I’ve heard that weighted blankets are helpful/feel good to autistic people but nothing regarding applying pressure to the head. TIA!

When you have kids, sometimes seeing them grow up and interacting with them unlocks memories you've forgotten or at least lost focus on from your own childhood. For example, I ... must have been a very spacey kid! As one of my kids often has trouble paying attention to basically anything going on around them, I start remembering... oh, wait, I remember my dad always asking me to pay attention. I guess... this is what that is. And so I remember having extremely delayed responses to other people -- not that I wasn't precisely paying attention, but that, you know, it'd take me a while for my brain to realize... oh hey somebody said something to you, you should get in on that. Oh, that was ten seconds ago? Okay, right. My mind was everywhere. But always with one foot sort of in reality. But I also felt the frustration other people had in my delayed responses, and also my own frustration at not being able to do anything about it. How do you just pay attention? If I could, I would! Stop being mad at me.... ten seconds ago!

That's where Charlie comes from. Is it autism? Is it ADHD? A fun cocktail??? She's somewhere in there.

As for pressure to the head: I think it's sometimes helpful to have something that... singularly distracts you. Like pinching yourself to keep yourself present. That plus the whole weighted blanket angle but on a more localized scale. In theory, I assume it's comfy

i assume in theory because i have a comically large head and hats rarely fit well on me, but i guess there was that period during the pandemic where i let my hair grow out too much and it started getting in my face and i just started wearing a winter hat all the time to manage it, and... honestly i did get a lot of work done then, so

[paucubarsisimp]

could you write for Pablo gavi? You said you wanted more fluff requests, so I’m thinking maybe something like reader goes for a girls night out, Pablo comes and picks her up, and then while she’s all drunk and giggly they’re laying in bed and keeps asking silly questions or talking about the randomest things, but Pablo just cuddles her close with a stupid smile and nothing but love in his eyes?

tispy

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

summary: basically the request 😭

warnings: none

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

the night had been full of laughs, dancing, and way too many cocktails with your girls. you had spent hours on the dance floor, your heels clicking to the beat and your laughter mixing with the music. everything felt light and fun, but now it was that time of the night—the time when all the fun started to blur together in a warm, fuzzy haze.

you weren’t exactly planning on ending up like this, tipsy and giggly, stumbling out of the club with your friends, but that’s exactly what happened. you were buzzing with excitement, and then, suddenly, there he was. pablo, your sweet, slightly goofy boyfriend, standing by the door of the bar like he’d come to rescue you from your very own personal chaos.

he smiled, his brown eyes twinkling as he looked at you. you noticed the soft, playful glint in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was.

“ready to go home, preciosa?” he asked, leaning down to kiss your cheek. his lips lingered there for a moment, and you felt a warmth spread across your face, a mix of his affection and the alcohol.

“i don’t know…” you slurred, slightly swaying on your feet. “i’m still feeling like i need… i dunno… a taco. like, a lot of tacos. what do you think?”

pablo laughed, shaking his head. “we can’t eat tacos now, bebé. you’re drunk. come on, let’s get you home.”

you put up a dramatic fight as he led you out to the car. “but… but i’m really good at picking tacos, pablo. like, i’ve mastered the art of taco eating,” you said, looking at him with big, earnest eyes, which only made him laugh harder.

“i’m sure you have, but right now, you need sleep, not tacos,” he teased, putting his arm around your waist to guide you. “we’ll get tacos another day. okay?”

you whined but gave in, letting him help you into the car. once you were both in the backseat, your head lolling against his shoulder, you couldn’t help but giggle again. everything seemed a little bit more fun when you were tipsy, and for some reason, all you could think about were the most random, out-there questions.

you barely made it into pablo’s apartment before you were plopping down on his bed, your tipsy brain racing with thoughts that made no sense whatsoever. pablo came in after you, shaking his head in amusement as you flopped on the pillow, still giggling.

“mi amor, you’re a mess,” he said affectionately, sitting beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your waist.

“i am not a mess,” you replied with a snicker, trying to hold yourself together, but failing miserably. “i’m just… a fun mess.”

pablo rolled his eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips. “uh-huh, sure.”

“hey, pablo…” you said, turning your head to look at him, your eyes suddenly wide with deep curiosity. “do you think… like, when socks disappear in the laundry, are they secretly having their own little sock party somewhere?”

he blinked at you, blinking a few times as if processing the question. “what? a sock party?”

“yeah, like, you know—where do they go? why does one sock always go missing? are they, like, having a rave or something?” you giggled again, your head spinning just a little bit.

pablo stared at you for a moment before shaking his head with a small laugh. “you’re ridiculous, preciosa. i don’t think socks have their own party. but maybe they do. maybe there’s a whole sock world we don’t know about.”

you grinned, loving how he was humoring you. “yeah, and maybe that’s why we always find one sock alone under the couch. like, the sock that survived the party.”

“you’ve got a wild imagination,” pablo said, kissing the top of your head as he tucked you closer to him. “but i’ll go along with it. maybe socks are just more social than we think.”

you snickered, feeling cozy in his arms. “they’re just too cool for us.”

a few minutes passed, and you were still feeling playful, still wondering about the silliest things. “pablo…”

“yeah?” he asked, smiling as he stroked your hair gently.

“do you think… like, when people see an elevator button, they secretly think it might be the one that takes them to another dimension?” you asked, your voice a little more serious now, like you were actually pondering a deep question. “like… what if it’s a secret portal, but we’re all too scared to push it because it’s just… so unknown?”

pablo blinked, processing your words again. he let out a small laugh, squeezing you a little tighter. “i think you’ve had one too many drinks, but i’ll entertain this one… maybe the elevator button is the key to another world. what if it takes us to a land full of unicorns?”

“YES! that’s what i’m saying! like, what if there’s a whole society of people who just… get it? and they’ve been waiting for us to push that button for years,” you said, your eyes wide with excitement as if you were actually uncovering some great truth.

“i’m glad i’m here to discover this world with you,” pablo said, his smile never fading. “maybe tomorrow we’ll go look for the button.”

you snorted in laughter, thinking about how absurd that sounded. “yes! we’ll make history. we’ll be the first to discover the unicorn kingdom.”

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll let you lead the way, but only if you promise not to drag me through another sock rave along the way.”

“deal,” you giggled, laying your head back on his chest.

your mind was still buzzing with random questions and thoughts, and as pablo wrapped his arms around you, you let yourself float in that happy, fuzzy space where everything felt like it made sense—even though it didn’t.

“hey,” you asked after a moment, your voice full of curiosity, “do you think bubbles in a soda ever get confused? like, are they all just… bouncing around, wondering where to go?”

pablo’s chest shook with laughter. “i think the bubbles are just… doing their job, bebé. they’re probably not thinking about anything at all. they just want to get out of the soda.”

you frowned, a little disappointed with his answer. “so you’re telling me that bubbles don’t dream of being… free? flying through the air, not stuck inside a can?”

he laughed again, squeezing you. “okay, okay, maybe they dream of that. maybe all bubbles want to escape.”

you nodded thoughtfully, as if that was the most profound thing you’d ever heard. “yeah, i bet they do. poor bubbles. trapped in a cage.”

“they’ll get their freedom one day,” he said with a grin, brushing your hair back. “they’ll fly away and live their best bubble lives.”

you smiled sleepily, drifting closer to him, your eyelids heavy as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “pablo… you’re my favorite person to be silly with.”

he pulled you in even closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re my favorite person, period. silly or not. i love you just the way you are.”

you smiled sleepily, your heart full of affection for him. “you’re perfect. even if you don’t believe in the sock parties or the bubble dreams.”

he chuckled softly, his voice warm and steady. “i believe in you, preciosa. that’s all that matters.”

you sighed contentedly, the world around you slowly fading into a peaceful calm as you snuggled even closer, wrapping yourself in the safety of his arms. and for the rest of the night, you both stayed there, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence—silly questions and all.

don’t forget to leave a request!

[zeroseuniverse]

Pardon?

Word Count: 919 Summary:A beat of silence passed. Then another. Mingi lowered his hands, finally looking at you. "...Fucking pardon?" Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Taglist: @sh0dor1 @haaruki @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @zaycie

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The confession wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Mingi had been pacing for the past ten minutes, running a hand through his hair every few seconds, occasionally muttering to himself. You sat on the couch, watching him with an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to just say whatever was eating him alive.

Finally, with a deep breath, he stopped in front of you. "I didn't mean to fall for you."

You blinked. Stared. "what?"

He sighed, rubbing his face. "I didn't mean to. It just... happened. And now I can't—"

"Neither did I."

The words left your mouth before you even fully registered what you were saying, but once they were out, you realized they were true. You hadn't meant to fall for Mingi either. It was supposed to be easy—friends, nothing more. But somewhere between late-night conversations, his ridiculously endearing laugh, and the way he always, always made sure you were comfortable, something had shifted.

A beat of silence passed. Then another.

Mingi lowered his hands, finally looking at you. "...Fucking pardon?"

You let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, uh. I guess that kind of just came out."

"You mean—hold on—you like me?" His voice pitched up slightly, eyes wide.

"Well, yeah?" You exhaled, suddenly feeling hyperaware of everything. "I mean, I wouldn't have just said it if I didn't."

He stared at you, mouth slightly open, as if his brain was short-circuiting. Then, to your absolute shock, he groaned and buried his face in his hands again. "Are you serious? I spent weeks panicking about this! You could've said something sooner!"

You gaped at him. "You could’ve said something sooner! What do you mean weeks?!"

"I was suffering!"

"Mingi, I have been suffering too!"

Another beat of silence. And then, inexplicably, you both burst into laughter. The tension that had been hovering between you dissipated in an instant, leaving only warmth.

Mingi finally dropped onto the couch next to you, shaking his head. "Well. That was dramatic."

You huffed a laugh, nudging his arm. "Yeah. But at least now we know."

His eyes softened as he looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. Now we know."

And just like that, everything felt lighter.

Mingi leaned back against the couch, a relaxed sigh leaving his lips as he rubbed at his face, trying to process everything that had just unfolded. It was almost surreal—he had spent so much time worrying over his feelings for you, and here you were, just as lost in the same emotions.

He glanced over at you, his smile a little softer now, though there was still a teasing glint in his eyes. "So, uh... now that we've got the awkwardness out of the way, what happens next?"

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but more at ease than you had been moments ago. "I guess we just... figure it out?"

"Figure it out," he repeated, nodding thoughtfully. "That's a good answer. But you know, I think I might need a little more guidance here. You’re the one who clearly had it all figured out, huh?"

Your lips quirked up. "I wouldn’t say ‘figured out.’ I’ve just been trying to survive the crushing weight of my feelings for you without making it obvious."

Mingi scoffed, glancing away dramatically. "So I wasn’t obvious, huh? Good to know. I guess I’ll just go cry in a corner now."

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him again, this time with more force. "Okay, okay, I get it! It’s a miracle we both didn’t combust with how much tension was hanging around us."

He chuckled at that, his hand brushing against yours as if he was testing the waters. "Well, now that we've both officially acknowledged that we like each other... does this mean we get to... I don’t know, do the whole dating thing?"

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a little giddy at how natural it felt to be having this conversation with him now. "I think so. If you're okay with it."

Mingi grinned at that, his eyes lighting up. "Okay with it?I've been waiting for this moment forever! I'm more than okay with it."

You laughed, heart fluttering. "Good. Because, well, I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me now."

"Not that I’d ever complain." His voice dropped into something a little softer, warmer, and his fingers brushed over yours again, this time with more certainty.

The air between you two felt lighter than it ever had before, and it was like the tension that had been there for so long had finally evaporated. It wasn’t perfect, and there were still so many unknowns, but in that moment, you were both okay with that.

And maybe, just maybe, it was more than enough to start this new chapter.

"You know," Mingi said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I’m really glad you said something. I was starting to think I’d have to spend another year overthinking everything."

"Well," you teased, "I’d say you’re welcome, but I feel like you owe me a drink or something after all that unnecessary suffering."

Mingi laughed, leaning over to nudge your shoulder with his. "Deal. Next time, I’ll make sure to keep my confessions less dramatic."

You raised an eyebrow. "We’ll see about that."

"Don’t worry," he said, his grin stretching wider. "I’m sure I’ll come up with something."

You smiled back at him, knowing that whatever happened next, it was going to be something good.

[kxsagi]

i have so many requests in my head but i already sent two, i don’t wanna overwhelm you ☹️.i swear these are the last two..

one is a sae x reader where they’re cuddling on the couch, sae busy on his phone while reader watches one of those very dramatic and frustrating romcoms. sae acts nonchalant but he’s secretly invested in the drama and he keeps on commenting on dumb things the characters, all frustrated and pissed do until the entire drama finishes. just crack comedy with fluff where they reminiscene about their early dating days.

next is a rin x reader ofc. childhood enemies trope where reader is sae’s bestfriend and rin hates her for taking his older brother’s attention but as they grow up he starts finding her pretty, catches him remembering small details abt her etc etc and all that lovesick stuff. and when sae leaves, she’s there by his side. when sae returns, she comforts him after their fallout and stuff hehe.

i’ve made like four requests this day and feel free to take your time with them, i don’t mindd. i just wanted to submit these requests in case i forgot to later 😞🙏 hope you enjoy writing them, also don’t feel pressured to write?

“𝐬𝐚𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢: 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐜𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫)”

a/n: girl you’re FINE, receiving a lot of requests from you just shows me how much you love my works and i’m grateful!!!

(idk art credits so sorry!)

it starts with you curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown over your legs and a bowl of popcorn balanced on your lap. the tv plays yet another chaotic romcom, the kind that makes you want to chuck the remote at the screen every five minutes. the plot is the same recycled nonsense: she loves him, he’s too oblivious, and they spend two hours missing every possible opportunity to communicate like functioning adults. classic. 

meanwhile, sae sits beside you, one arm casually slung around your waist, his phone in hand, eyes fixed on the screen. his fingers lazily scroll through what you can only assume is a feed full of soccer stats, news updates, and unread texts from rin. at least, that’s what you think he’s doing. 

the truth? sae hasn’t registered a single thing on his phone for the last forty minutes. no, he’s been watching the movie. intently. but he’s not about to admit it. 

“oh my gosh, why is she running in the rain again,” sae suddenly mutters under his breath, making you glance at him with a smirk. 

“hm?” you hum innocently. “what was that?” 

he doesn’t look away from his screen, fingers still aimlessly swiping (with his weather app). “nothing.” 

liar. 

the romcom continues, and the male lead does the most objectively idiotic thing imaginable: cheating on his girlfriend with her twin (???) because of a “misunderstanding.” sae scoffs softly. you feel his arm tighten slightly around your waist. 

“this guy’s a moron,” he mutters, still feigning disinterest. “why would you cheat on someone with their twin? you talk to them. maybe confirm identities? i dunno, use your brain? maybe he could even take some advice from me, i’ll teach him how i bagged you.” 

you press your lips together, holding back a grin. sae notices the twitch of your mouth and squints at you. “what?” 

“nothing,” you echo his earlier words, eyes back on the screen. 

five minutes later, the female lead’s best friend finds out about the whole twin-cheating thing and instead of immediately telling her friend, she decides to… keep it a secret. for no reason. 

sae’s jaw clenches. he exhales sharply through his nose, locking his phone and dropping it to the couch with a thud. 

“what kind of dumbass logic is that? you’d want your best friend to know if her boyfriend’s been macking on her doppelganger. right? RIGHT?” 

he gestures at the TV with such genuine exasperation that you have to bite back a laugh. you turn to him with a teasing look. “i thought you weren’t watching?” 

his eyes narrow slightly. “i’m not.” 

sure. 

the movie barrels toward its grand finale: an overdramatic airport scene where the female lead, after all that unnecessary heartbreak, still decides to forgive her deceitful boyfriend. you glance at sae, who’s leaning forward ever so slightly, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and visibly annoyed. 

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters. “after all that?! she just takes him back? no groveling? no consequences? nothing?!” 

you snort, fully turning toward him now. “you’re so mad.” 

“i’m not mad,” he deadpans, clearly mad. “i just hate stupid writing.” 

you poke his cheek. “oh? i didn’t know sae itoshi was a romcom connoisseur.” 

he glares at you, but there’s no actual heat behind it, just the quiet indignation of a man betrayed by poor screenwriting. 

when the credits roll, you toss the popcorn bowl onto the table and stretch your arms out with a content sigh. sae, still brooding over the romcom’s stupidity, leans back against the couch and lets you flop against his chest. you can hear the faint beat of his heart, steady and soothing beneath your ear. 

“why do you even watch that crap?” he mumbles, absently running his fingers through your hair. “you get mad every time.” 

“it’s entertaining,” you murmur. “and it’s worth it to see you get personally offended by it.” 

his hand slows slightly, then comes to a full stop. 

“wait.” he pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up to look at him. his eyes narrow with suspicion. “... is that why you put it on?” 

you blink innocently. “put what on?” 

he scowls. “don’t play dumb. you watch these stupid movies just to see me get pissed off?” 

you offer a mischievous grin. “maybe.” 

sae’s mouth parts slightly in disbelief, but he doesn’t stay mad for long. in fact, his lips twitch into something almost resembling a smirk. he shifts so that you’re flat on your back and he’s leaning over you, arms braced on either side of your head. 

“you’re so annoying,” he mutters, brushing his lips over your temple. 

“mhm.” you hum, completely unaffected by his unconvincing irritation. you reach up, loosely hooking your arms around his neck. “you still love me though.” 

he exhales heavily, as if burdened by the magnitude of your nuisance, but his lips are already curving into a barely-there smile. he presses his forehead to yours and lets out a soft, reluctant chuckle. 

“unfortunately,” he murmurs, before kissing you softly, “i do.” 

and just like that, the frustrating romcom is long forgotten. 

“𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞” 

a/n: reader is sae’s best friend, but the same age as rin! 

(header art credits go to nwtrchb)

rin always hated you. 

when he was seven years old, you were sae’s best friend. the cool kid who knew all the tricks to the arcade games and somehow all the best food spots in the city. you were always there, hogging his brother’s attention, walking home with him after school, sharing inside jokes that made sae smirk in that rare, almost affectionate way. a look rin never seemed to get. 

he despised it. despised you. 

you were everything he wasn’t: easygoing, sociable, and apparently very funny if sae’s occasional chuckle was anything to go by. and rin? he was just the annoying little brother trailing behind, scowling in your shadow, wondering why sae never looked at him the way he looked at you. 

“why do you always hang out with her?” rin had once asked, arms crossed, voice sharp with childish frustration. 

“because she’s cool,” sae had shrugged, ruffling rin’s hair carelessly before leaving with you again. 

rin had glared daggers at your back until you were both out of sight. 

and that’s how it was for years. the petty glares, the sharp words, the unspoken resentment. he hated the way you seemed to effortlessly fit into sae’s world – his world. hated how you knew his brother in ways he never could. 

but then you both grew up. 

and rin’s hatred turned into something far more inconvenient. 

he first noticed it when you were twelve. you were visiting the itoshi house during one of sae’s matches, lounging on their living room floor with your legs kicked up on the couch. your hair was tousled, falling into your eyes as you glanced at the screen, wearing one of sae’s old hoodies. rin had walked in, fully intending to shoot you one of his signature scowls. 

but for some reason, he forgot how to breathe. 

he quickly looked away, scowling at the floor instead, convincing himself that he was just annoyed. annoyed that you were wearing sae’s hoodie. annoyed that you were here, again, like you always were. 

except, he wasn’t annoyed. not really. 

he realized that when, months later, you offhandedly mentioned you didn’t like grape tomatoes, and somehow, somehow, rin caught himself picking them out of his own plate without even thinking. he realized it again when you braided the hair of a younger cousin at a family gathering and his gaze lingered far too long on your fingers, meticulously weaving strands together with such gentle focus. 

he was twelve and absolutely, hopelessly doomed. 

but he kept his distance. he was still prickly, still short-tempered, still rin. he told himself it was just a passing infatuation, one he could outgrow. 

and then sae left. 

the itoshi household grew colder, quieter. rin pretended it didn’t matter, like he hadn’t lost the one constant he was always chasing after. he threw himself into soccer, training with a near-frantic desperation. but no matter how fast he ran or how hard he kicked, it didn’t fill the void sae left behind. 

but you were there. 

you didn’t smother him with pity. you didn’t tell him it was going to be okay. you just… stayed. you went to his matches. you stood at the sidelines. you bought him vending machine drinks after practice and tossed him a towel without a word. you were just there, and somehow, that was enough. 

you were there when he came home fuming after a loss, muttering insults under his breath with his fists clenched at his sides. and you were there again when he stood in the middle of his hallway, staring at the empty bedroom across from his, realizing sae wasn’t coming back anytime soon. 

you were always there, and slowly, somehow, you became his constant. 

he was sixteen when he realized he was completely, undeniably in love with you. 

it hit him like a sharp kick to the chest one evening, when he came home to find you sitting on the porch steps, waiting for him after a particularly brutal practice. your hair was slightly damp from the humidity, face illuminated by the soft orange glow of the setting sun. you looked up when you saw him, eyes warm and bright with familiarity. 

“you look like you could use some ice cream,” you had teased, holding up a small plastic bag containing his favorite flavor. 

and that was it. his heart was gone. 

but then sae came back. 

it was supposed to be a reunion, but it was nothing short of a disaster. they fought, old wounds ripping open with ease. sae was colder, more distant, and rin was bitter, angrier. the same unresolved jealousy from years ago came rushing back with vengeance, except this time, it wasn’t about who got more attention. 

it was about you. 

because sae still smiled at you the way he used to. still exchanged effortless banter, still had his rare, dry humor with you that he never spared for rin. and even though it was always platonic, always had been, it still made rin’s chest ache. 

so he walked out. stormed off, fists clenched, throat tight. 

and you followed him. 

you found him by the old soccer field, sitting on the bleachers with his arms crossed over his knees, staring blankly ahead. you didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside him and let the silence settle. 

“he makes it look so easy,” rin muttered bitterly, eyes narrowed, voice low and raw. “like it doesn’t even matter.” 

you stared at him quietly, and after a moment, you placed a hand on his. he stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away. 

“he misses you too,” you murmured softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “he just doesn’t know how to show it.” 

rin exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“i hate him,” he said, but his voice wavered ever so slightly. 

you squeezed his hand, grounding him. 

“no, you don’t,” you whispered. 

he stared at you then, really stared at you. you were still wearing that same soft, patient expression you always had when he was younger. except now, it felt different. warmer. heavier. 

and before he could stop himself, he spoke. 

“you were supposed to be his,” rin muttered, voice barely above a whisper. his throat tightened as he squeezed your hand in his. “but you’re always here.” 

you blinked, startled by his sudden confession. but he didn’t let you go. instead, he turned his hand over, threading his fingers with yours, holding on like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

“you’re always here,” he repeated softly, as though he couldn’t believe it. 

and when you slowly, carefully leaned in, brushing your lips against his, he melted into you. everything he ever wanted but was too scared to admit, it was right there. 

and this time, he wasn’t going to let it slip away. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `jellycat, sam winchester ༘♡

summary: sam buys you a jellycat. word count: 612 pairing: sam x fem!reader

Sam’s known to spend fortunes on you.

He’s always wished to have a girlfriend who lets him spoil her. Whether it’s treating her to a date a couple times a week, lending her money so she can go shopping. You name it, it’s yours.

You’re very thankful to be in the hands of the Sam Winchester. The guy would do anything for you, and that includes the one thing you’ve been asking for.

A Jellycat.

In this universe, it’s hard to come by jellycats. You live bang in the middle of nowhere, no real home address and the Wi-Fi? It’s horrendous.

Sam has spent most of the day away from the bunker. He left around noon, lugging his huge suede jacket over his broad shoulders, kissing you goodbye. Sam never told you where he’s headed, or what he’s doing. Just that he’s out. It never worried you that he would leave without telling you why. You trusted him with your whole being; Sam is loyal to you as you are to him.

You have noticed the hype around these little teddies, and you needed just one to fill the void. Sam has bought you many teddies before, and they all lay in a hanging basket in the corner of your room in the bunker. But a jellycat? Your life would be complete.

Sam returns to the bunker, the tip of his nose is pink and his breath hot against the chilly weather outside. He has flecks of snow on his shoulders, and a few sparkly specks in his hair. You greet him by the bottom of the stairs, a white bag in his hand. He moves his hands behind his back to withhold the surprise he has for you. “Hey,” you greet, planting a gentle kiss atop his nose. “Hey, baby.” He replies, his tone soft and warm. You lay another kiss on his right cheek, and you move out of the way so he can get down the stairs.

“I’ve got something for you.” He announces, a bashful look appearing on his face. “You do?” Your face lights up, a child-like grin sticking to your face. He reveals a white bag, a shade of blue and orange marginally sticking out of the bag. You gently take the bag from him. “Thank you, Sammy. You really shouldn’t have.” You respond, and it’s true. The fact that he feels the need to spend his money on you, it doesn’t go unnoticed. You take the, what looks like, a blue drawstring bag with orange strings out of the white bag. You notice the pattern on the front of the bag, a logo that has a black and white kitty with an orange jelly sat on his head. Your heart flutters as you pull open the drawstring, revealing a jellycat inside.

It’s a muted, light navy bunny; a delicate, dainty floral pattern adorns the inside of its ears. You stare at it for a few seconds, feeling the ever so soft fur. The stitching is almost invisible. You feel the beads at the bottom of the bunny, adding a little bit of weight compared to the teddies in your room. “She’s gorgeous, Sammy,”

“Oh, so now we’re personifying teddies?” He chuckles at you, and you wipe the fur out of the bunny’s eyes. “Of course I am. Every teddy is real in my eyes. They have thoughts and feelings, you know.”

He grins at you, a dimple showing on his cheek. “You like it?” He asks, his hands resting in his pockets.

“I love it. Thank you so much Sammy. You don’t understand how much I wanted a jellycat.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Anything for you.”