#they just are so important to me and i could scream about it all day

[gojo-mochi]

Softyyy~ is your req still open? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ueueue you know how I adore your writing badly I can’t pass this opportunity 😖 ueue if it’s still open can I please req sabo being absolute feral, needy and nasty? wkwjskwswks the rest is up to you xD

thank youuuu🫶🏻

HIIIIIII OMG IM SO SORR FOR THE WAITTTTTTT I HOPE IT GOOD AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENJOYINH MY WRITING SJKDF AHH I BLUSEHD WHEN I SAW UR ASK DSKF DFDF

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Female Reader! Canon world! Established Relationship!

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Warnings: Mentions of wounds and blood, nightmares, lack of appetite, depression symptoms, etc.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Sexual Content: Creampie, unprotected sex, lots of biting, overstimulations, close pussyeating, cum eating, spit.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Word Count: 7k +

105 days, 7 hours, 52 minutes, 13 seconds, and counting. Sabo had been gone from you for that long. Usually, he was accustomed to leaving on extended, secret missions, far from his friends and, in fact, everyone he knew. However, since you and him began dating, Sabo has been unable to tolerate being apart from you, crying on the inside like an anxious puppy when his owner is out of sight. 

A nervous puppy with the abilities of a professional killer, but to you he was still a puppy. 

The mission he was sent on was extremely important, and one he could not fail. Failure would result in months or even years of setbacks in the army's advancement. Even so, it was not any easier to leave you, he kept you in his arms for as long as he could. Holding you close to his chest, your heartbeats synchronizing themselves with each other. 

You were the first to begin to distance yourself from his warmth by leaning away, which only caused Sabo to draw you closer. He inhales deeply as he tries to recall every single thing about you before he had to depart. Tears sting at the corner of your eye, but you suppress them. Instead of leaving Sabo with tears in your eyes, you wanted him to remember that you were smiling. So, he would know that you’ll be just fine without him for a while. 

Hearing a sniffle, Sabo slowly pulls back, bringing his hands up to your face and holding them tenderly. Wiping away the single tear that escaped from your glossy eyes. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything too stupid.” You breathe out quietly, looking up at your lover’s face for the last time in a while. 

“I promise, my dear. I promise you that nothing in this world will keep me from coming back to you.”

He pulls you in for a long kiss, your lips finding their place onto his right away. You two stayed there for a long while, not parting a bit even for air. As you concentrate solely on Sabo, the sounds around you gradually fade away because you wanted to absorb much of this moment as possible

*bwAAAAAAAHHHP!*

The ferry horn blaring in the air startled you both out of the kiss, a thin trail of saliva formed a bridge between your bottom lips and his. Sabo was the first one to laugh, a cheery and airy laugh that washed away any last lingering anxiety held in your chest. 

“Looks like the crew is mad at me for being late, oh well, it was worth it.” He winks at you. 

He takes hold of your face, gives you a final peck on the cheek, and leaves, knowing that if he lingered a moment longer, he would notice your dejected expression and would instantly falter. You wiped away any more tears that were starting to form and yelled at Sabo as he boarded the ship, waving your arms in the air.

Screaming your farewells, sending your best wishes, and letting your heart run wild. You didn’t stop until you saw the ship leave over the horizon, your arms and throat sore from all the waving and shouting you did. It was all worth it though, you needed to let everything go this moment because you know the next few days, weeks, or even months will be miserable without him. 

And it was…

Every day that went by without a letter or any kind of news from his crew was agony to your very soul. The rest of the Revolutionary Army tried their best to cheer you up or soothe your worries, saying that Sabo was one of their best agents and he always came back from a mission. 

You knew that, but sometimes he doesn’t come back unscathed, sometimes the mission takes a heavy toll on him, whether that be mentally or physically.

Late at night, when he is at his most vulnerable, you can see the scars on his body and behind his eyes. The night terrors that would cause him to scream and claw at his own skin, the tears that he kept hidden from the public, shedding themselves in front of you. 

All the scars, stitches, and bruises that you took care of and looked after when Sabo said it wasn’t that big of a deal to everyone else. You knew Sabo trusted you enough to let his guard down with you, and you never wanted to betray that trust. You witnessed all of those moments and held them near and dear to your heart. 

So, whenever someone approached you and commented on Sabo’s toughness and resilience, saying how he’d be back in no time, you simply nodded along and smiled. Holding your hands to your chest tightly to fight down the anxious thoughts as you wish for his safety night after night. 

Once the second month passed, the anxiety started wearing down your body. Heavy bags under your eyes, a sickly complexion, your clothes being a little bigger on you than normal. Your smile now did little to sway the frowns on other people’s faces when they came up to check on you. You still had hope in your voice that he would come back to you safe, but everyone could see that hope was dying slowly as the days passed by.

Then, finally, a letter came. It was brief and had to be burned immediately after, but it contained news. Both good and bad news for how the mission was going, but at least you knew that Sabo was still alive, and that brought a smile back on your face. Though your heart did sink at the fact that the mission would take even longer than expected now, you did your best not to let this get to you.

Busying yourself with helping around the base, picking up new hobbies every week, anything to distract your mind from Sabo and his wellbeing. And soon another month had passed with not another letter being passed to you. For the past few weeks, your bed has been piled on high with Sabo’s clothing on top, you just needed to be near him in some way. Bundling up to his sweaters and holding his coats to your chest helped you sleep a little easier. The scent was wearing off with each night that passes, but you needed this or you felt like you were going to go crazy. 

“Y/N really, you can stay at my place tonight.”

Koala tugs at your arm, a gentle smile on her face.

“We could stay up all night if you want too! I have lots of card games up my sleeve that I can teach you! Oh! I can even try to teach you some fishman karate too!”

Koala starts to bounce up and down, listing off all the fun activities you two could do together.

You lightly shake your head and try to return her smile back, but she could tell it was forced. 

“Thank you, but I’m really okay alone. I’ll come see you for breakfast in the morning though, I promise.”

Koala lets go of your arm, with a frown forming on her face, but she didn’t push you anymore.

“Fine… but you better come in the morning! In fact, I’ll come over to your room and drag you out myself if I have to!”

Koala gives you a bone-crushing hug that squeezes the air out of your lungs. 

After a few harrowing seconds, you can breathe normally again. You said your goodbyes to Koala and promised her again that you'd be fine for the night. 

You start your trek back to your shared room with Sabo, stopping in front of the door with your hand on the handle. As some part of you prayed that somehow Sabo would magically appear behind the door if you believed hard enough. 

The door creaks open to a dark room, the clothes pile on the bed seems even lonelier tonight, you sigh and shuffle your way in. Throwing your shoes to the side and just gathering enough energy to shimmer out of your top and pants. You crawl up on the bed dressed down to your undies, grabbing a random shirt from the pile and shoving your face in the soft fabric, inhaling as much of Sabo’s lingering scent left on there as you can. 

With no more tears left to shed lately, you hugged the shirt tighter and willed your body and mind to go to sleep. 

A few hours go by before you fall asleep completely, still holding a shirt in your hand as your body huddles next to the heap of old clothing. You barely stir when you hear the door creak open. You turn over on your back as you hear more sounds—shoes scuffing on the floor, rustling, and then a voice that seems so distant.

A hand presses against your cheek, then the voice comes closer to you. With your mind still exhausted, it takes a while to realize that something was happening. You mumble something, and the voice laughs at you. You frown at being laughed at.

Your hands go to swat at the voice, still thinking it was just a part of your dreams, only to hit something surprisingly warm and sturdy. Your fingers start to trace whatever you just hit, pinching and pulling at it. 

The voice snorts at you, gently taking your hand away and holding it in theirs. Your eyes start to fly awake at this moment; a figure comes closer to your vision as you do. 

The figure stops just a few inches short of your face. You lift your head up to try to get a better look as your vision begins to clean up. What was blurry forms of dark blue and yellow soon turned into a real-life Sabo right in front of your eyes. 

Sabo smiles at you, going to pinch at your cheek as he says, “Hey there, beautiful, miss me?”

You gawk at him, your eyes goes wide. “Sabo..? Sabo? SABO!” 

You immediately leap from the bed into his waiting arms, with the heaps of clothing following in right behind you. But you didn’t care at that point, Sabo was back, and that was all you cared about right now. 

“Sabo! Oh my- Sabo I thought you-! I mean- I really didn’t think you be dead but sometimes I- I just worried so much and-” 

Your hurried words quickly transformed into sobbing blubbers, and Sabo listened to it all and comforted you.

“I know, I know.. I’m so sorry for being so late. The mission just got out of hand, and no…….. No, not tonight, I don’t want to talk about the mission tonight. Tonight is all going to be just about you, my darling.” 

Sabo holds your face in his hands, wiping away all your tears as he starts to pepper you with kisses. Sabo kisses you from the forehead down to your lips and nose, then down to your neck, where he also gives you a few bites. His teeth grazing down on your soft skin, with just enough pressure for it to leave a mark.

Your body reacts to the attention quickly, as low whimpers form on your lips. “Sa-Sabo, wait-you just got back and-”

Sabo nips at your collarbone, eliciting another moan from you. He pulls back just enough so he could look in the eyes. 

"Darling, please, I can’t wait any longer. Every waking moment I was on that mission, I was plagued by thoughts of you. I came here as fast as I could just to get to you, I didn’t care about anything else.”

You didn’t realize it before, but now that you got a better look at Sabo, you could see just how haggard he looked, his clothes had dark stains and were torn in some places. His body was covered in scars and bruises, both recent and old. 

“Sabo! Did you not go see the doctor before you came here!? Oh my god, I think you’re still bleeding some places too, we need to go see them right now.”

You make a move to get up, but Sabo quickly pulls you back down and pins you to the bed. Even in his weakened state, he was still overpowering you. His trembling hands press down on your exposed shoulders. You look up at him, much too worried about his condition more than anything else.

“Sabo, you’re hurt… we need to get you to the doctor.”

Your voice was gentle but firm, and as much as you missed his touch, you cared more about his health than anything else. At least that's what you kept telling yourself, in truth, you felt that your own self-control was slipping quite rapidly. 

Sabo leans down to rest his head on the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. You feel his hot breath ghost over your neck, sending shivers down to your core. 

"Darling, please, you don’t understand. I need you. I crave you.”

"I miss your scent, your body, your voice, your taste, and everything else about you," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. His tongue slides up your neck, and his finger slides under your bra strap as he begins to pull it down. Pressing his tongue right over your pulse point, you whimper at his advances, feeling your guard lower with each passing second. You needed this too. How many times did you wake up with wet panties from a dream about Sabo's touch?

.

.

.

Fuck it, Sabo survived worse-looking wounds before.

You gave in, pulling Sabo in for a long overdue kiss. Your lips crash into each other with vigor, with teeth clashing and nose bumping pain, but you both didn’t care about that. Sabo’s tongue slipped into your mouth first, wet and sloppy with no sense of the control he usually has. Sabo moaned at finally tasting you again, drool dribbling down both your chins from how messy this kiss is.

His hands fiddled with your bra for a bit, practically ripping it to get it off of you. His hands then roamed down to the hem of your panties, shimmying them down as far as he could while he was still stuck to you. 

With you being almost fully naked now, Sabo wasted no time feeling up every inch of your body, his hands squeezing and pinching on your soft belly, rubbing up and down like he was mapping out your body in his mind. You squealed into his mouth when he squeezed you, feeling a little bashful about your body now.

You turn your head to break away from the kiss for a moment, trying to say something, but Sabo didn’t let you escape his grasp for too long. Quickly maneuvering himself between your legs as he literally tears the panties off of you with his bare hands. 

They were such a cute pair too…

He pins you down by the shoulders again as he takes over your mouth, snaking his tongue in as far down your throat as he can. He grunts as he pins both of your hands above your head and cuffs them with just one of his. 

You struggle and move from beneath Sabo, but his grip renders your arms useless. Even your legs are useless as you flail them around. Any more attempts would only further wear you down, you could only give in at this point. Letting Sabo take total control of you right now, allowing your mind to become clouded by desire as you feel every movement of his tongue. 

Sabo gives you some mercy, after a while, breaking the kiss and letting you have air again. You take in a few gulps of air and look at your lover, whose chin was absolutely covered in slobber now. His eyes aflame with desire, looking right back at you, held no shame for how he was acting. 

Sabo continued his assault on your neck, licking and nibbling at every square inch of your skin while keeping you pinned. Covering you in love bites that would be a pain to cover up in the morning later.

“Sa-Sabo, slow down a bit, nggh-please?” 

You did want him badly, so fucking badly, but Sabo was acting a little bit differently than he usually is tonight. Your worries start to creep their way in through the fog inside your brain. 

You feel Sabo shake his head against your neck, his free hand dragging down your side, fingers pushing against the softness of your body. All the way down to the side of your hips, his thumb circling right above your cunt. 

“Can’t slow down, need ya’ too badly.” Sabo whispered out. His nose presses against the curve of your neck as he pushes his thumb down onto your clit. You shudder out a moan at the feeling, eyes fluttering down as Sabo works his magic on your cunt. 

“Just enjoy it, my love. And, let me enjoy you…”

His thumb swirls and flicks at your precious little nub, getting it to be nice and hard. His other fingers swipe at your folds, coating them in your slick. Barely pushing the tips of his fingers in your opening, just teasing you with each stroke of his hand. 

“You’re tighter than normal, didn’t touch yourself when I was gone?” Sabo asked in a slightly strained voice. After that, he tilts his head downward and bites your collarbone too forcefully, causing a bit of blood to seep from the wound.

You mewled out in pain at the increasing amount of bite marks Sabo was giving you. Sabo's face falters at this, and making an apologetic noise from the back of his throat. He soothes your pain by licking at the wounds, his hot tongue lapping up the crimson liquid quite greedily. You crane your head backward, allowing Sabo to lick at every other wound he gave so far, his thumb slowly increasing pressure on your now swollen clit.

A brief thought then passes through Sabo’s mind: ‘What if you got with another man while he was gone?’ 

“Answer me, darling. Did you or did you not play with yourself when I was gone?”

Sabo trusted you with his life and all his secrets, but his insecurities did get the best of him sometimes, rearing their ugly head in the worst moments. 

You were too focused on trying not to cum too fast from his fingers that you didn’t really hear his question. Biting your lip to try to keep yourself in check. Your silence only made Sabo more anxious, he upped his tactics. Moving down and latching his lips onto your nipple and sucking harshly. Your body arched off the bed, colliding with Sabo’s, who was gently using his teeth on your now hardened bud. 

He pushed his fingers about an inch inside your cunt, only two for now, he wanted you to work for more. Moans and whimpers came from you, soft pleas for him to stop teasing you and fuck you already, it’s been too long. 

Sabo shakes his head, unlatching from your breast and curling his fingers deeper inside your cunt. 

“Not until you answer, darling~, did anyone touch what’s mine while I was gone, hmm?”

“Huh-ngghh! Sabo-please!” 

Before you even had the chance to think about your answer, Sabo starts plunging his fingers in and out of your wetness at a skillful pace, letting go of your wrists as well so he could cup your face to make you look at him. 

“Answer. Me. Love.”

Your eyes try to focus on Sabo and answer his question, but the heat pooling up inside your belly was getting too much to handle. You were only focused on how Sabo's fingers were long, how rough he was going, how his fingers hit all the right places inside you, and how much you wanted him to fuck you right away. 

"N-no, mmph-ngh-I-fuck."

You mumble out an answer as best you could, your breath shaky and unstable, as your whole body began to tense up for the oncoming orgasm. 

Sabo’s lips twitch upward at your answer, “No? So, no one touched this pretty, pretty pussy while I was gone. Are you certain? He cooed in a mocking tone. 

He squeezed your face a bit as drool dribbled out of your mouth and onto his fingers. Your eyes were closed, and you moaned pathetically, just wanting to focus on feeling good, but Sabo didn’t let you. You opted to just shake your head to answer him and just let go of your body’s control and let the orgasm wash over you.

“Ah-hah-mghmm-fuck! Sabo!”

You cum all over Sabo’s fingers, soaking the bedsheet beneath you. Your mouth falling open as you feel your body instantly relaxing and falling limp under Sabo. In the aftermath, your head falls back onto the pillow and your legs twitch slightly. Everything about you feels heavy now, your mind is already spent after one orgasm. 

Too bad Sabo wasn’t going to let you off that easily. 

Sabo lets go of your hands, leaning back on his knees as he starts to take off his clothes. Through your blurry vision, you could somewhat make out Sabo towering over you in this position, your cunt throbs at the thought of what is to come. 

“Fuckin hell- this is taking too long.” After undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, Sabo got annoyed at how slow this was taking.

Then, in Sabo's hand, a tiny fire appeared. It quickly leaped onto his chest and spread thinly down his body. Burning the troublesome buttons right off, along with some of his pants. Sabo quickly rips off the remaining burned garments. 

In one fluid motion, Sabo grabs your legs, pushing them apart and huddling himself right between them. His newly freed cock, hard and dripping, was now pressed against your thigh. Smearing the precum on your soft skin as he climbs over your body to fully face you. His hair falling down to his eyes, his usually kempt appearance now switched to one of a wild animal. 

He grabbed his cock and started rubbing the tip of it right on top of your clit, tapping against the sensitive swollen bud a few times to see your reaction. Then he pushes forward, sliding his cock in between your folds but not entering just yet. 

Getting your juices mixed in with his precum as he keeps on sliding back and forth, using your own slick as makeshift lube to cover up his cock. Sighing heavily at the feeling, Sabo fought his self-control to just plunge himself deep inside you, he still felt like he needed to get you more wet before he could enter. 

Rocking his hips back and forth on top of you, Sabo let his cock rub up all against your wet cunt, barely teasing it inside on some swings. The thick tip of his cock brushing up against your clit, making you feel his pulsing veins as he drags it back down. Sabo enjoyed seeing how your pussy fluttered against his cock when he was teasing you like this. 

You were getting more impatient with each passing, you needed him to fill you up, to remind you who you belonged to. 

“Sabo! Please, please, just fuck me already. I need you bad! Please!” 

You whimper and mewl out his name and try to wiggle your hips in an attempt to get his cock inside you faster. Sabo’s last remaining shred of self-control broke in that moment. Watching and listening to you beg for his cock just made everything in him snap. He spits down right on top of your cunt and his cock, rubbing the savlia in with his hands as he used two fingers to spread open you open.

Easing the tip of his cock in the opening little by little, really feeling much, he was stretching you out. He leans over more so his cock could get in just the right position to pound you fully. 

“Fuck… darling, you’re so good to me. So, so good to me.” Sabo grunts out as his cock was halfway deep inside of your cunt. Already feeling pussydrunk from how tight and warm your pussy was making his cock feel. He captures your lips with his once again, greedily stealing all of your gasps and whimpers as his cock fully sinks inside you. His hands grab you by the hips as he begins to slowly fuck you, the pace steadily increasing speed with each thrust. You feel Sabo moan in your mouth, his tongue going slack as he starts to focus more on pounding your cunt. 

You definitely felt the weight and the girth of Sabo’s cock in this moment. The stretch was a bit painful at the start, and the pace he was going at made you see stars. His cock was filling you up like never before. You felt like a virgin from how your pussy felt around him. Your hands clamber up to his shoulders, and your nails dig into his back as you try to steady yourself from how rough Sabo was going. The bed underneath you two shook heavily, and some articles of clothing fell from the pile as Sabo kept on ramming you. 

Sabo was gone at this point, the only thought in his head was breeding you, fucking you, and keeping his cock inside you at all times. Even in the small window where he had to pull his cock back, Sabo hated the feeling of not being squeezed by your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes, yes, yes! Mine, mine, mine, you’re mine, this pussy is mine. All mine, mine, mine!”

Sabo rambles on and on, repeating the word “Mine” a lot, his hips repeatedly slamming into yours, his hands roaming all over your body. Sabo’s hand felt like lava on your skin, in fact, Sabo’s whole body was heating up immensely. The entire room felt like a sauna at the moment, with steam rising to the ceiling. 

You felt the pleasure really start to increase inside you, your nails dug in deeper on Sabo’s back, clawing all the way down as you lost your mind. 

“Sabo, nghh, hahhh-ah! Mm-more! Yes!”

Your vision goes white as you reach climax, your legs go to hook around Sabo’s back, bringing him impossibly closer to you. Sabo groans as your cunt spasms around his cock, trying to milk every single drop out of him. He came soon after you did, spilling his hot seed inside of you. 

Everything was hot, too hot, you felt like you could melt into a puddle on the spot if it got any hotter. You felt sweat everywhere on your body, and you could feel it dripping off of Sabo as well, little beadlets of sweat dropping down on your chest as Sabo hovers above you. His breathing slow and heavy, his eyes meet with yours, and you muster up a tired smile in response. 

He smiles back, pulling forward to give you a chaste kiss on the lips before saying. 

“We’re not finished yet, you know that, right, my love?” 

A mixture of fear, excitement, and anticipation coiled through you, you didn’t know if you could handle another fucking like that, but your body was saying otherwise. Your pussy clenched at the thought, and Sabo felt that, with his cock still buried inside of you. 

“I knew you were ready for another round.” He said cheekily. 

You try to lean up on your elbows, only to find yourself lacking the energy to do even that. Falling right back down on the pillow, you look up at Sabo, biting your lips in contemplation. 

“Could you at least go slower this time? Please?” Your voice a little hoarse and meek. 

Sabo pats down your sweat-soaked hair and smiles brightly at you. “Don’t need to ask twice, baby. I’ll go extra slow for you, just relax and lay back. I’ll do all the work.” He coos at you gently, going in and burying his face in the nook of your neck. 

Taking in a deep inhale of your scent and licking up some of the sweat that pooled up on your skin. Sabo moans deeply at your taste, making you blush from embarrassment. Sabo placed his palms down on the bed and heaved himself up on them. So, he could look down at your expression as he started to slowly roll his hips forward once more. 

Dragging his cock deeper inside your sore cunt, your eyelashes fluttering down at the feeling. The stretch wasn't there anymore, but you could feel bruises forming from the earlier slamming. 

Sabo’s eyes didn’t leave your face as he continued on, enjoying all the cute expressions you were making. This was making you feel a bit self-conscious, and you turned your head away and tried to muffle any noises. 

Sabo had none of that and gently grabbed your chin and pulled you back to face him. 

“Look at me.”

Your lips quiver, and you still keep your eyes closed. You hear Sabo sigh softly, his hips picking up the pace, making you moan a little, your body trying its best to match him. 

Sabo’s other hand creeps up the side of your thigh, gently massaging it. His fingers warm and calloused, you could feel all the little scars he had on there as his hands glided up and down on your skin. 

“Pretty girl. Shy girl, so shy. You missed me, but now you can’t even look at me huh?” Sabo teased.

Your ears burn more at this, but you still refused to look at him. 

“That’s alright, you can just focus on the fully feeling me then.” 

Sabo purrs the last line as his hand moves up to the side of your hips, his fingers fanning out to gently rub on your clit. The light pressure on there was still enough to make your body jump from the feeling. Sabo used his pointer finger to rub small, lazy circles on your sensitive nub as his cock sinks in deeper. 

Sabo leans down back to your neck, his tongue lapping over all the bite marks he left there before. Trailing down to your collarbone and then over your breasts, where his breath ghosts over your nipples. His tongue snaking out to lap over your perky bud, circling around it a few times with the tip of the wet muscle. 

You mewl out in pleasure, feeling so full and so stimulated by everything that Sabo was doing to you currently. His cock sitting heavily inside you, his finger still rubbing on your clit, and now his tongue flicking against your nipple. All the pleasure was rapidly building up inside of you once more, but you still needed that push to let it all out. 

Your hand goes to the back of Sabo’s head, fingers in his hair, as you try to push him down further on your chest. Hoping that he gets the hint. And of course he does, his tongue is soon replaced by a pair of warm lips. As Sabo latches on to your bud and starts softly sucking on your breast. His body finally moving again, as he starts to slowly fuck you, his length felt bigger than before. 

Hitting deeper with each hit, Sabo didn’t go as fast as before, but this pace was more than enough to make you squirm. His fingers did not relent on your poor clit, as Sabo switched over to his thumb, flicking his appendage back and forth in rapid succession. 

This was getting too much for you, you began to shimmy your way back on the bed, away from the overstimulating feeling, away from Sabo. Sabo notices this and bites down on your nipple, making you yelp in surprise. His hands grab you by the hips and pull you back, practically slamming you down on his length. 

“Don’t move.” Sabo growled. His mouth still latched on to your poor abused bud, he lets you feel his teeth go over your nipple once more as a warning as his pace gets rougher. 

The sounds of skin slapping against each other and your weak and pitiful cries filled the room, Sabo soon added his own noises as he slurped messily on your chest. Switching from side to side, making sure that each one got their own set of attention from him. 

“Sa-Sabo! G’onn- Gonna!” 

Too fast. Too hard. Too much. Everything was too much for you, you were going to lose it, and Sabo was close behind you. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, oh god-fuck, cum, cum, cum for me, love.” 

Sabo moans unabashedly, lifting up your hips and hitting in a new angle that pushed you over the breaking point for the second time tonight. 

Your hands claw up into Sabo’s side as your vision goes white and you release all over Sabo. This time you squirted all over yourself and Sabo, covering the bedsheets underneath you even more with your wetness. However, you were too exhausted to give a damn at this point.

Sabo was in heaven at this point, feeling your wetness gush all over him was like jumping into the fountain of youth. His grip on your hips didn’t falter one bit, in fact, it only got stronger. His fingers dug into the plushness of your skin and pulled your drained body right up to his, as his thrusts became shaky. Sabo just needed to feel more of you, screw with precision, or trying to find the best spots to hit, he just wanted his cock to as deep inside you as humanly possible. And if there was a way beyond that point, Sabo would find it or die trying. 

“Fuck-mm-haahh, love! Oh my-ngh, gonna fill you up again-so badly.You’re mine-mm, all mine, mine, mine forever.”

Sabo’s eyes started to cross from the bliss he was feeling right now, your pussy was still so tight around him, and you were so warm. Each thrust he could see and hear, both his cum and your own slick come out of your cunt. It was a sight he wanted to engrave into his mind, even if he had to forget everything else to have it there. 

“Mmm-hnngh, hahhh, Oh lo-love.”

Sabo’s eyes travel up to your face, watching you with your fucked-out look. The way your tits bounce, your mouth hanging open, your eyes barely open, but he could still see how absolutely beautiful you looked in his eyes. One of Sabo’s hands leaves your hip as he grasps the top of the headboard behind you, getting leverage as he relentlessly fucks you for the last ounce of power he still has in his body. 

His grip on the headboard was so strong it started breaking the wood there. Sabo was reduced to a beast in this moment, with just the primal need to breed. He feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest, the heat moving all throughout his body, his balls tightening once more, ready to release all his love inside you. 

With a final move of his hip, Sabo buries his cock as deep as it could go and came. His seed spurting out all at once, accidentally ripping a piece of the headboard as he finishes. He lets go of your hip, letting your body drop back down to the bed, your legs trembling and sore from all the abuse that it went through tonight. 

Your stomach felt like it was a furnace now, as Sabo’s cum was still being pumped inside. You felt so full from all of it. It felt like forever until Sabo finally pulled his cock for good tonight, his length twitching a little and covered in a mixture of your and his love. 

Sabo threw away the broken piece of headboard somewhere on the ground and made a move to get off the bed. You watch him wearily as he pushes some clothes aside and moves you closer to the middle of the bed, tucking your head underneath a fluffed pillow and grabbing a blanket to cover you with. 

There was your sweet, gentlemanly Sabo. You close your eyes and get ready to get a good night of sleep with Sabo by your side. 

As Sabo gets back on, you feel the bed dip, and then the blanket moves, but something was not right. Sabo wasn’t getting in to sleep beside you, he was getting under the blanket for some reason. You focus your gaze on the blob moving underneath the blanket, trying to gauge what the hell Sabo was doing under there.

‘Did he drop something? Or did the sex wear him out so badly that he forgot how to sleep in a proper bed?’

Your mouth moves open to speak, but instead a small yelp comes out instead, as you feel something wet move across your thigh. 

“Sabo!”

You lift the blanket up to see what was happening and see Sabo in between your legs, his tongue still out in the middle of a blep.

Sabo smiles at you cheekily, rubbing his cheek on the thigh he just licked, “Sorry for scaring you, love. Don’t mind me, I’m just helping clean you up.” He gives your thigh a wet kiss. 

“Saboooo, I’m tired and too sensitive.” You whined, you knew that any more stimulation on your clit would be too painful right now. 

“I promise, I’m just gonna to clean you up and not do anything else, dear.” Sabo flutters his eyelashes at you, trying his best to make puppy dog eyes as well. Your guard did lower a bit at the sight. 

“Fine…”

You were too tired to argue any further anyway, you put the blanket back down and closed your eyes. Finding the best position to sleep in with Sabo between your legs, you mumble out a goodnight to Sabo. 

“Goodnight, my princess.” Sabo purred, softly kissing a lot on your thigh. To your surprise, Sabo didn’t go wild at all. He was soft and gentle, doing small kitten licks on your skin, lapping up all the stains and areas. Moving to the inner part of your thigh, his hair tickling your skin a little bit, but it wasn’t that bothersome overall. 

Your hand moves down to pat Sabo on the head, absentmindedly running your fingers through his blonde locks, as your body starts to cool down and nod off to sleep. 

Sabo goes to the other side of your thigh and finishes cleaning over there, taking his time to lap up all the leftover creme. Allowing the sweet nectar to sit on his tongue for a bit before he swallows it down. 

Then, he moves up to your cunt, and being a man true to his word. He was gentle with this area, lapping up very slowly, making sure not to touch your clit too much. Just using the flat of his tongue to cover as much area as possible with each swipe. The feeling was oddly comforting in a way to you. 

You fell asleep far before he was done with cleaning, your hand still laid on top of his head. Your body softly snoozing away, with Sabo’s hand on your stomach feeling the rise and fall of your chest with each breath you take. 

When Sabo was done with his job, he shifted his body upward just a bit so he could lay his head on your stomach. Not wanting to accidentally shake you awake, he was fine with cuddling you here under the blanket together. 

His eyes flutter closed for the last time tonight as he holds your hand in his.

.

.

.

Morning comes quietly, you were the first to wake up, finding your body extremely sore but happy at the same time. You stretch your arms out and let out a big groan, feeling your shoulder muscles being pulled. You feel something move under the blanket and lift it up to find Sabo, sleeping comfortably on top of your stomach. He was like a heat pad for you all throughout the night. 

He nuzzles his cheek on your stomach closer when you try to poke him away. You huff at this, knowing that he was probably awake the moment you were. You poke his forehead again, Sabo jokingly bites at it in return. You pinch his cheek in retaliation, giggling at his reaction. 

“Come on, I feel gross and sticky. I need a shower. We both need showers, actually.” 

You make a move to get off the bed, but Sabo pulls you back in by wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Nooo, stay.” Rubbing his face on your belly as he whines quietly.

You ruffle his hair and sigh, smiling at your lover’s silly antics. With the sunlight coming in the room, you could see just how bad some of Sabo’s injuries were now, along with the multiple bruises and marks littered across your body. 

“Come on, we both need to go to medical anyway. I’ll help you wash up in the shower if you get up now.”

Sabo’s ears perk up like a puppy’s, and he eagerly looks up at you with awaiting eyes. 

“You promise?” 

“Yes, dear.” You lean down for a kiss, lingering on his lips for a second as you look into each other's eyes. Sabo leans back in for a longer, more passionate kiss, his hand going to the back of your nape. Softly biting at your bottom lip as his tongue tries to sneak in your mouth. You shake your head but your body didn’t deny the need for him again. 

‘What about we do a quickie, then shower, and then I promise to be a good boy and go to medical?’ Sabo blinks his wide eyes at you as his hand lowers to your thigh, squeezing it softly. 

Your brain fights for an answer, the horny side really wants to do it again, but the rational side says that you should take him to medical sooner than later. 

“I-”

“GOOD MORNING WORLD! TIS IS I! KOALA HERE TO TAKE MY LOVELY FRIEND TO BREAK-EEEEEEEEEE!”

You were interrupted by Koala bursting into the room, all merry-like. You forgot that about the breakfast thing… and now she sees you and Sabo, butt-naked in bed together. 

“Sabo?! You’re back and you’re naked! Oh my god-sorry-I gotta take this call and goodbye!”

As quickly as she burst in, Koala left. Leaving a snickering Sabo leaning over on top of you. 

You soon join him in laughter. Though your cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment, it was good to have Sabo back. Everything was the way it should be now. 

Well, except for Koala’s poor eyes.

[tsukii0002]

After reading the demons' reactions to allergies I was thinking alot , people asked about medicine and food , then there's me with a very uh weird kind of dust allergy . I'm sneezing atleast thrice a morning , and if I get to a place with dust or anything , my eye , like , the sclera of my eye just starts inflating/swelling , and it becomes really itchy and red too . I imagine there are lots of places in the hol that are just covered in dust , it'll be a nightmare for me lol

Hey there!, my friend also has a dust allergy and it is a horrible allergy, I hope you deal with it well 🥺. Mc would have a hard time considering all the buildings are big and old and full of nooks and crannies, rip Mc.

Mc arriving for the first time in the House of lamentations

Mc: … I don't think I'll make it through this year

Mammon: What's wrong with you human?

In the dining room, all the brothers stopped in confusion at the sight of a Mc with swollen eyes

Mc: I- achusss… *sorting* it's the dust.

Satan: The… dust?

Asmo: Does dust kill humans?!

Mc: No, no *sneezing* it's me, and my allergy.

Levi: How is that supposed to work?

Mc: *with red eyes* Simply the accumulation of dust makes my eyes, throat… and I keep sneezing and- Achuuuus…. it's hell, I can't be in dusty places.

The brothers: *looking around with a cold sweat running down their body*

Belphie: And why didn't you say anything until now?!

Mc: Well… I didn't want to bother you and… I don't think that when I got here you would have believed me a- achuus, or helped me...

The brothers: … *feeling guilty*

Lucifer: *clearing his throat* Mc, I think you should spend a few days in the lord demon castle.

Mc: ???

Mc: And that's why I'm here.

Diavolo: So dust… *looking at a Barbatos cleaning everything thoroughly* ha, ha, ha… don't worry Mc, we'll sort it out.

Meanwhile in the house of lamentations

Belphie: Help me Beel, we have to make sure the blankets and cushions are well washed!!!!

Beel: I'll help you after I clean the kitchen!!!!

Satan: *with a vacuum cleaner in hand* Who thought of having fucking carpet and rugs in every damn room?!!!!!!!

Asmo: Why the hell do we have so many useless things that just collect dust????? Levi!!! don't use a feather duster!!! Do you want the whole air to be full of dust in suspension??

Levi: AHHHH!!! and how am I supposed to clean all my figures? *crying* I can't allow Mc to be in danger in my room

Mammon: Oi, Belphie I need to wash all the curtains!!! let the washing machine free!!!

Belphie: It's busy now! Do something else in the meantime!

Lucifer: I will not allow a break while there is a speck of dust left in this house!!! is that clear?

Satan: Then take care of Cerberus and the basement damn it!!!!

The screams could be heard from outside the house.

Mc was days without setting foot in the House of lamentations, and everything was in chaos until Solomon, while laughing, taught them a spell to eliminate the dust automatically. Solomon had to escape from the brothers, he succeeded, but he could not escape from Barbatos who told him that, for something useful he was doing, he should have shared it. But the most important thing is that Mc did not have to worry about their allergy anymore :).

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Thanks for reading 🩷

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[pe4cht3a]

Little something I think about once and awhile but I feel like Killua tells his dad and grandpa stuff about his life. Like just talk about his friends, any training, any enemies, any *crushes* ;). I feel like we see a little of this in the Zoldyck arc before Killua leaves home, AND I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT

LIKEE IMAGINE!! Killua yapping his dad and/or grandpa’s ear off about his smidge crush on reader then turning around and being like - don’t tell Illumi (he already knows). BASICALLY can we get a one shot/headcannons about this? This feeds my obsession with me needing to know what people think I about me

⁺‧₊˚ Hush ˚₊‧⁺

── .✦ a/n: augrhf this sucks so bad but i love this idea sm, pls enjoy :3

after numerous days of being tortured and mutilated by his family, killua was certainly feeling annoyed. why was killua even enduring this in the first place? because he decided it was a wonderful idea to stab the shit out of his mommy and older brother, the fat one, of course.

while enduring the endless punishments and merciless whippings from his family, especially milluki, who kil had stabbed before running off for the hunter exam. oh right! the hunter exam.

during the hunter exam, known world wide to be extremely difficult and hard to pass, killua had encountered some of the most important people to him currently. gon, his best friend. kurapika, an older brother figure. leorio, someone to make fun of. you, his first ever crush.

killua had never, EVER been exposed to girls before his whole life. disregarding his mother, and alluka since he hadn’t seen her since they were like six and five. the only things in life killua had ever been provided for was ruthless training and grooming to become the head of the zoldyck assassin family. of course, this role meant he was destined to marry in the future to reproduce, but talk of women and marriage was left for much of the future. so when kil met you and got to interact properly with you, A GIRL… he did not know what to do at all.

“wow! she sure is fast!” the cheerful gon chirped as he eyed you, pacing along with satotz in the first phase of the hunter exam effortlessly. “tch, that girl will for sure die later.” the albino rolled his eyes as he focused on the dark tunnel ahead of him. “i wouldn’t assume that so early, killua. she does seem strong.” kurapika chimed in as he watched you meticulously.

“oh! i guess you’re the number i’m assigned to collect for.” you slyly but gently smiled at killua, standing right in front of him, surrounded by the lush forest. “in your dreams.” the silverette non-chalantly spat out as he had his hands tucked into his pockets.

before killua could react, you had already swiftly jumped up onto a tree behind him. killua didn’t realise at first, but less than a second later he realised a side of his shirt had felt significantly lighter.

“hey! what the hell?” the boy screamed as he snapped his head around to see your figure atop a tree branch.

you had just taken killua’s badge without a sweat.

badge number 99 was now yours.

you turned your body around, and stared down at the albino, who was exuding embarrassment and anger. “don’t be so angry, kitty.” you smirked, as you placed your hands into your pocket, mocking killua’s once confident and signature posture. the darkened expression on killua’s face was priceless, something to behold, truly.

did this bitch just call him “kitty”? ain’t no way you took his badge, called him kitty AND mocked him. if this was anyone else, killua would’ve slit their throats by now but, you felt incredible.

that was the moment and interaction that caused something unknown to bloom inside killua. how could you take his badge without him noticing? how were you faster than him? he’s a zoldyck, so how? what training have you gone through? who were you, really? how were you so confident against someone like him? how the fuck were you so pretty while doing all that?

killua was now hungry for more of you.

“so killua! whats your type?” the raven haired boy said as he gazed out the window of the airship. “my type? what do you mean?” the pale boy questioned, tilting his head. “you know, what kind of girls do you like?” gon grinned innocently. “girls?” killua had never interacted with a girl before, until you, that is. killua was not sure what to say, his type? he hadn’t even been around enough girls yet to know.

“mhm! personally, i like older women! i think they’re caring and mature.” the ravenette exclaimed as he explained to the dumb-founded albino. “uh.. well…” killua was pretty puzzled, to say the least.

it shattered his ego to admit this to gon, but especially himself. “uhhh.. you know that girl we’ve been seeing around lately during the exam?” the albino stared off into the night lights shining from below. “oh yeah! she’s pretty!” gon smiled, he was pretty surprised killua mentioned you.

“um, i guess you could say so.” killua would never ever talk about this subject to anyone else.

unfortunately, all that was awhile ago. now, instead of spending time with gon and his other friends, he was propped up in his mansion’s cell, abused. everything went south once killua’s eldest brother, illumi revealed his disguise at the last phase of the exam and manipulated him into returning home. killua was not one to reminisce, but those memories were surely treasured.

“how dare you stab me and mama?” the obese creature yelled as he whipped killua. their mother had just entered a few minutes earlier but now, it seems another family member has intruded once again.

“milluki, stop it.” the elder declared as he calmly walked in. “grandpa! you’re always spoiling him! this is why now he’s a fucking brat!” milluki stressed, desperately trying to get their grandfather on board. “shut it.” zeno side eyed his huge grandson as he stepped towards the younger one. unsurprisingly, milluki shut his mouth due to his overflowing amount of respect and fear for his grandfather. what a loser, killua thought to himself, not daring to raise his head to look at his grandpa.

“alright, get up kil. silva wants to see you.” the old man informed, no anger or disappointment in his voice whatsoever. “huh? really? dad wants to see me?” the albino immediately shot his head up in a fit of surprise.

“so kil, i know you ran off.” the respectable man sternly said as he sat in the dimly lit room. “yeah… i did.” killua awkwardly responded to his father, afraid his father will be mad.

“i want to hear all about your journey.”

“really, dad?”

“sit beside me, kil.”

“what kind of people did you meet at the exam?” silva questioned, acting interested. “heh! well, i met gon! he’s so fun! and.. uh kurapika, he’s real nice. i also met some guy called leorio, don’t remember much about him.” killua excitedly rambled, like a little child once again. “i see. anyone else?” the man questioned as he narrowed his icey blue eyes.

silence took over the room for awhile, killua’s head facing down. not sure how to start off about you.

“well, i met a girl.” killua muttered as he looked off to the side. “oh?” silva let out as he tilted his head. how hilarious, such similar body language between son and father.

“mhm uh.. she’s.. really pretty…” killua felt his ears burning up and heart pounding. “describe her to me, then.” silva demanded as he was surprised a girl caught his son’s attention.

sure, killua was a teenage boy but his family expected him to have the mindset and ambitions of an assassin, not some love sick teenager.

“mm… her eyes shine so brightly, she moves so gently.. but yet so quickly. she also… smells good. hmm, i like how she’s so open to conversations with people around her and isn’t shy to say her mind! i love the fact she beat me, to be honest.” the little albino was now completely off in his little dream land about you, pale face now bright pink.

“she beat you? am i hearing this right?” the older man walked in, without any sounds giving him out whatsoever, beforehand. steps inaudible, how typical of an assassin.

“it seems so, father.” silva nodded, eyes still fixated on killua.

killua immediately regretted letting that information slip, now his dad is going to go WAY harder on him during trainings.

“yeah.. we had to claim other people’s badges for a phase, and she somehow took mine, when she was right in front of me!” the silly silverette unknowingly went back into a state of infatuation, forgetting all about how his elders will think of his failure.

zeno and silva exchanged glances, both decided to say nothing about THAT, for now.

killua softened his gaze at both. “her name is y/n. i asked her for her name right before… big brother revealed himself and—” killua’s voice slowly trailed off as he remembered what happened.

“forget about illumi, tell us more about this girl.” silva abruptly cut his son’s sentence off.

the flustered boy raised his head once more and nodded with a smile. “she’s so strong! i’ve never met anyone else who could beat me!” killua excitedly gushed, his heart was now feeling so fuzzy and warm. a foreign feeling, indeed

a good 3 hours had probably gone by.

“after i told gon i found her pretty, he urged me to give her my chicken wing during dinner! can you believe that guy?” the care free boy laughed as his dad and grandpa chuckled along. “well? did the lady accept your generous offer?” zeno teased, in his elderly fashioned humour.

“yeah! she said thank you and said that she really liked my hair colour… kinda weird but i felt good when she complimented me!” killua was now spread out, laying on the floor, as the two elders sat upon the bed. “it seems this gon guy is becoming your wingman.” silva grinned slightly at his son, delighted that killua was interested in strong girls, but unhappy since it was too early for him to be thinking about relationships.

“sometimes, i see her looking at me during dinner time and i feel like as if my heart was going to explode any moment! felt more intense than any training you guys have ever given me.” killua sighed as he was now, running out of breath from yapping so much about you.

“i think me and your father have heard enough to understand this y/n girl, kil.” zeno stood up from his seat and place his hands behind his back. “i agree, father.” silva huffed out. wow, his son sure was interested in you. this is definitely gonna bring some kind of trouble.

killua sat up from the floor, sapphire eyes now looking like an innocent child’s. as if, he was never a ruthless killer who murdered for profit and as a lifestyle. instead, looking like a pure and untouched pale porcelain doll. silver hair no longer dirtied and stained with blood from his victims. rather, silver hair now fluffy and as white as undisturbed snow during winter.

for once, killua felt normal.. no. for once, he is ALLOWED to be normal.

“please don’t tell any of this to big brother.” killua nervously said out loud to his father and grandfather, pleading almost. killua genuinely wanted to find you again, and get to know you properly. he was so so frightened that illumi will get ahold of this news and torture him. worse, he’ll go after you.

“no worries kil, illumi will stay out of this. after all, y/n and everything else is your own personal life.” silva reassured his son as he stepped over and placed his hand over killua’s head, patting him.

killua’s mouth curled into a soft smile, appearing like any other boy. happy to talk to his father about his crush, and getting reassurance.

“how is kil?” the silky haired man’s back leaned onto the cold marble wall. “doing fine, but he’ll leave again.” silva informed his eldest child.

“i know about that girl.”

“i presumed so.”

“should i get rid of her?”

“don’t.”

“okay. may i ask why though father?”

“first, killua will know it was us and never return to us again. second, he might learn a thing or two from forming bonds. third, that girl seems quite powerful.”

“are you suggesting we push him towards her more? that is absurd.”

“illumi, it is my responsibility as the head of the zoldyck family to plan for the next generations. she will produce fine children for us.”

“fair enough.”

“now, hush.”

[rootspiral]

i’m thinking about how agatha says “my thoughts are not available to you, toots. they never, ever were. so don’t go giving yourself a migraine” to wanda and then “you’ll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read my mind” to billy.

a few things about this are interesting to me, particularly because of the layered ulterior motives she has for saying it:

1- agatha’s need to brag about being stronger lol

2- the fact that it does sound almost protective, the way she chooses to let them know they might get hurt from trying too hard. idk if it was just wanda, i could let it go, but i feel like it’s meaningful that it’s wanda AND billy, you know?

because we know for sure agatha cares about billy and she would try to avoid him hurting himself, so the fact that she used such a similar tactic on wanda makes me feel like it might have been a tiny hidden shred of evidence that she didn’t want to cause wanda any more hurt than necessary, either.

and, most notably,

3- we don’t have an origin story for agatha’s ability to block out telepathy, but to me those scenes might indicate that she taught herself that skill, rather than having been born with it. because maybe, if beings as powerful as wanda and/or billy tried hard enough, they would be able to read her mind. and she doesn’t wanna risk that, so she just makes it very clear that they can’t and sorta hopes to hell they’ll believe it.

aaanyaways, this just crossed my mind and i wanted to share and maybe ask if you have any thoughts on it?

hope you have a nice day!

(also btw re: the tags on your response to my last ask, i completely understand needing to take some time! no need to explain yourself :)

First of all, YES to Agatha teaching herself how to block out telepathy. On the shows we only scratch the surface of her immense self-taught knowledge, which I think is a cornerstone of her character. We get plenty of clues, from a very young Agatha accused not of murder but of stealing "knowledge above [her] age and station," to Agatha being constantly shown learning from books and teaching Nicky, to her whole relationship with the Darkhold, not to mention how she seems to understand Wanda's and Billy's powers better than they ever could.

I imagine her being obsessed with chaos/reality magic as soon as she learned about it from the Darkhold (because it's the only thing powerful enough to go against Rio's laws of nature / bring Nicky back) and as a consequence she learned to block telepathy, or if she already knew how, she definitely set out to become the greatest thought-blocker in history, she's just the kind of nerd who would do that. Plus she's extremely jealous of her inner thoughts and feelings, she regards her sorrows and fears as her greatest weakness, so it stands to reason that she'd be eager to learn how to hide them from everyone. I've talked about Agatha not giving a damn about being physically naked, it's her mind she wants to keep secret, and that is why being so uncensored as Agnes was much more humiliating.

Agatha boasting her thought-blocking abilities to Wanda and Billy has layered reasons like you pointed out – that's what I love about her, she's both complex and very predictable in her complexity. She's showing off, she's proud she's better than them at their own game. She's also calculating because you never know, they could break her barriers if they tried hard enough so better discourage them. And I don't know if she was being protective of Wanda too, maybe unconsciously.

But with Billy there was more overt affection, and I keep thinking how important it is for Billy to have someone in his life that is not constantly screaming in his head, and how significant the little exchange they had on the couch is, in retrospect. "I like it here. It's because it's quiet. You're quiet, Agnes." I like to imagine the whirlwind of thoughts this produced in Agatha, because you know her mind is always going a million miles a minute. In that moment her relationship with Billy was truly born I think, in all its three aspects: selfish (this is Wanda's son with Scarlet Witch-like powers that I can steal for myself), selfish in a different way (this is a magical little boy that I can claim and raise as my own, like I never could with Nicky) and selfless (I'm sorry for this kid born with powers he doesn't understand, I need to protect him.) So yes, I guess that even if she was smothering out the protectiveness she felt for Wanda, with Billy she's more ready to embrace it.

[brightlotusmoon]

(All I'm doing in this post is describing adult/child interactions that I observed, but I want to give you a heads up that it's kind of infuriating. I think that's important to share and to talk about, but I wanted to put this heads-up here because I know that some readers have been more intensely subject to *experiencing* this type of treatment from adults in their childhood or adulthood, and so I just wanted you to know before going in.)

I had an incident where schedules got mixed up. The result was that another staff member, who doesn’t usually come into my therapy gym, came to pick up a child from my gym, rather than the usual routine of me walking the child to their next location.

This adult was not at all used to the way things run in my room. When the student told me “I’m going to carry a dinosaur in the hallway,” the adult told them, “That’s not the appropriate way to ask permission.”

I said, “They don’t need permission. They always do this, it’s part of our routine.”

The staff member wanted to save face. They stammered, “Well, are they taking the dinosaur and keeping it or just carrying it?”

I said, “Carrying it in the hallway. It’s allowed. It’s fine with me. They already know that.”

The adult turned to the child and said, quite unnecessarily, “Well then, when we get to the next room, you have to give it back.”

Which the child already knew; they had done this routine every week for two years, and they were making no indication that they had any intention of doing otherwise. The staff member’s need to not “be wrong”, to do something “instructional”, was getting in the way of them just…being quiet, letting us do our thing.

We walked out into the hall. My student said, “I hope we don’t walk past that scary beetle I saw earlier.”

“What, a beetle? How scary could a beetle be?” said the adult.

My student bristled a little bit at being dismissed this way. “It WAS scary.”

“Well, how big was it?” asked the adult.

My student held up fingers apart from one another and said “this big.”

To which the adult replied, “I bet it was only this big,” and held up fingers smaller than that. “Where did you even see it anyway?”

My student, frustrated, said, as politely as they could, “Can I stop asking you questions about this now?”

The adult gave me an amused glance, like adults do when they expect to share a joke, and said, “what, huh? You ask me questions? You’re not asking me any questions.”

Now in a frustrated tone of voice, my student yelled, “can YOU stop asking ME!!”

The adult said, “First of all, that’s not an appropriate way to speak to me. And second of all, yes. That’s all you had to say. There is no reason to get so worked up about this.”

It had been a grand total of about 120 seconds, and *i* wanted to throw things and scream. I couldn’t imagine how my student was feeling.

I had a meeting with this staff member a day later. It was about something else, but my frustration on behalf of my student was boiling just under the surface as I tried to keep it in control. I tried to diplomatically say, “I know the two of us have very different philosophies about working with children.

“Yes,” said the other adult. “I know you see them occupationally and I see them educationally. They have so much potential, but no boundaries. The way you let them behave in your room carries over into the rest of their day, and they think they can just talk to any adult like that. I can’t let them act that way.”

But I don’t want them to have to ask permission to have an idea.

I certainly don’t want them to ask permission to follow a routine.

I don’t want to tease them when they’re feeling dismissed and belittled.

I don’t want to brush off their fears.

I don’t want to pretend I don’t understand what they’re communicating.

I don’t want to push them to breaking and then fault them for breaking.

A few days later, we had ironed out the schedules. It was time for me to pick up the student from the staff member’s room. When I arrived the student saw me and lit up and slipped out quietly.

“Hang on,” I said. “I want to catch [adult]’s attention so they know we left and know where you are.”

“Okay,” my student said, and then, “[Adult], I’m going to OT!”

And the adult said, “I am *teaching* right now. You may leave my room *silently*.”

And I thought…my children, my heart, I am so sorry. You can’t win. You are over-policed for every single little thing you say or do. You can’t win.

_

[frozenjokes]

guys it was a little touch and go on whether or not they’d kiss in this final chapter of this (intended) shipping fic but rest assured I made it happen

convex week day 7 - past/present - prev

@convexweek

What do you do when you can’t stop thinking about him?

Not Scar, necessarily, but what Scar represented, the opportunity, the idea of justice, the allure of change. As much as he didn’t want to, as stupid as it was, Cub believed Scar when he said he didn’t know what those training aids actually did. Cub believed Scar when he said he wanted to ban their use among celestials. Moons must not have the same protocol, they must do things differently, better.

Over the course of his life, Cub had adapted to the world around him by becoming a systematically selfish man. The rest of the world wasn’t lesser per se, but they weren’t important, they didn’t matter so long as they did their jobs and left Cub alone.

Thinking about people other than himself was a startling and mildly embarrassing experience, but all of a sudden Cub was doing that a lot, thinking about people, thinking about to-be suns.

“Do you really think you can do this? Remove the aids from the training program altogether?”

Scar blinked, like somehow this hadn’t been what he’d expected when Cub requested his appearance. “Uh, no, I think I specifically told you there’s a 99.99999% chance nothing comes of this.”

“Oh. Not even with me working with you?”

Scar snorted, then laughed, he was laughing! “Who do you think you are, seriously? It’s a toss up who has a worse reputation among suns, except at least I have friends and a folk hero background to fall back on. If anyone knows your name it’s not for a good reason!”

Cub opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, drawing a fist to his lips as he tried to come up with any singular thing he could bring to the table here. “Hm. No, you’re right. I add nothing of value here.”

“That’s not true!” and Scar was so passionate, Cub almost believed him, “You have a story to tell, Cub! Come on, stars aren’t born spiteful!”

“You can be born looking the part.”

“Say more.”

Cub did say more. Suddenly he was saying more and he just couldn’t stop, he was saying more words than he had in his centuries of being alive, he was so angry, he was so angry and never once had he been able to say why- Maybe that wasn’t the whole truth. He’d had opportunities even after his escape, but opportunities took work to nourish and Cub was in a monogamous relationship with his system guardianship already. This was free, unexpectedly easy, an eager audience who agreed with him, validated him, was horrified to hear the ways in which Cub was treated- offhand remarks, snide instructions, frustration at repeated offenses that Cub literally could not help-

Cub had never had another person tell him it was okay. When Scar was gone, Cub cried for hours.

But Scar was not gone for long.

At first it was a lot of ‘I have an idea for this case,’ and ‘I got an opportunity to do this thing for this case that’s awesome,’ and ‘I got this new anecdote for this case,’ which was fulfilling a normal amount and also extremely fucking irritating (which is why Cub kept letting Scar in, of course.)

There were some ‘I met someone I think you would like!’s which was simply untrue, so Cub attempted to discourage these lines of thought by ceasing conversation for the rest of the encounter, which Scar rarely noticed.

Then something terrible started to happen. With Cub’s face.

By now, Scar had a somewhat consistent way of finding Cub, and graciously, did not scream nearly as much. Cub had two places he typically frequented; his mail, and his telescope, both within reasonable distance of each other, so Scar got to know them pretty fast.

Today, when Cub felt the beginnings of a moon’s signature chill while sitting at his telescope, he.. something..

“What’s wrong with your face?” Scar asked, all but tactfully.

Cub did not speak, because if he spoke, he might lose control of it.

“He thinks I’m stupid,” Scar said, to no one in particular, but extremely to Cub, “He thinks I’m stupid. He thinks I don’t know that he likes me. Well two can play at that game.” Scar held a finger to the corner of his mouth, pulling it into an exaggerated frown. He held this for a while. Cub did not bend. Finally, Scar relented, “You know, your head’s gonna explode if you don’t breathe sometime soon.”

“I don’t need advice.”

“Great! Still looking through that shitty telescope?” It was impressive how Scar could move from one deeply annoying topic to the next, “I seriously don’t understand why you don’t just go see it. In person! You can’t even control what you look at there, and all of it’s through some shitty filter! Come on, Cub!”

Cub frowned (a relief), rolling his eyes and looking away, “I like not choosing. I see things I might never have seen otherwise. Besides, I’m needed here.”

“Are you that needed? Come on, you’ve said yourself that your system is ‘full of very competent moons and efficiently run,’ when’s the last time you’ve actually had a problem? It’s not like anyone comes to see you anyway, and if your moons are as diligent as you say, they’ll notice any potential issues long before they become emergencies. You have time for a day around Earth.”

“Why don’t you just sit with me instead?”

Scar paused at the invitation, Cub had never extended one like this before, though he couldn’t say he regretted the impulse. Anything that made Scar stop, even for just a moment, was a damn blessing.

“I’ll sit with you,” Scar said, even, imploring, almost like he was navigating some kind of business deal. “But I won’t look out your telescope. Once is enough, friend, I know what you’re missing.”

And Scar did sit, he sat very close, uncomfortably so, and Cub was about to say something about it until it didn't seem so bad, and Cub was relaxing, perfectly alright with the cold at his side. Was this how it felt on Earth? A little cool, a little bit uncomfortable, but not exactly unpleasant. No, not unpleasant at all.

Cub didn’t feel the need to respond. Today he was watching an endless number of small frogs resting in the water of a lush swamp, the whole scene full of shapes and novelties that could never exist anywhere else. The frogs were singing, Cub couldn’t hear them, but he knew it to be true. He imagined their voices, ones he’d heard centuries ago but had long forgotten.

“There’s an eclipse later, on Earth. We could still go, still see it the way the life down there would. The sky darkening in the middle of the day, the moon blocking the sun..”

“I know.”

Scar half recoiled, utterly taken aback, “You knew? How? Why won’t you go with me? These don’t happen very often, you know.”

Cub snorted. “I know everything.”

“You do not.”

“I know most things to do with the alignment of moons and planets in my system, especially Earth. I’ve seen a thousand eclipses all over the place, including there.”

“Why not a thousand and one?”

“I’m looking at the frogs.”

Scar scoffed, “You’d rather look at frogs- which you can see at any time- than go see the eclipse on Earth with me.”

“I’d rather look at frogs than do anything with you.” Cub responded without hesitation, to which Scar hunched over himself in a pitious pout, and Cub only cared a little bit. “This is fine though. I can do frogs and Scar.” Scar was not to be appeased.

“I like you.”

Cub didn’t know what Scar wanted, but Scar was an impatient moon, and Cub did not have to wait long.

“Say it back.”

“Why.”

“Because I know you like me too and quite frankly I am so extremely out of your league it’s not even funny, so I should at least get the satisfaction of you looking away from your frogs and telling me with your words you feel the same.”

That was enough to make Cub jolt away from his telescope, blinking feverishly. “What?”

Scar did not waver. “What.”

“You like me?”

“Of course I like you!” Scar threw up his arms in his great exasperation.

“Like like?”

“What the fuck does that mean.” Arms back down.

“If you’ve been around humans long enough you know what ‘like like’ means.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been busy trying to get your job taken away and now I’m kind of your legal errand boy but you don’t really know or care what the errands are.”

“I care. I like to hear about them.”

Scar made a completely inscrutable face, but it looked angry, searching, maybe exaggerated-? Was he joking? “Only one ‘like.’”

“Oh, okay. You just said you were out of my league, which is true, but that implies two likes.”

“I am out of your league in every way it is possible to be out of it.”

Cub nodded, sage. “It’s painful, a little bit.”

“Well imagine how I feel! You’re the biggest loser in the galaxy and I don’t even hate you about it anymore. And you won’t say it back!” Scar threw up his arms again, and Cub looked back at his telescope.

“I don’t have to. You already know.”

Cub eeped! when Scar pulled him off his telescope by the shoulders, the two of them suddenly very very close, face to face. Wow. This was great. There was so much darkness this close. Maybe if Cub put his face on Scar’s face it could be dark forever.

“I want you to say it.”

Man, Cub really didn’t want Scar to be talking anymore, especially if he was going to continue on this topic. “There’s a thing humans do to tell each other they like each other.”

“I don’t care about-“

Cub kissed him, he tried at least, it was a little awkward and Scar didn’t seem to know what was happening, but come on, there was no way Scar hadn’t seen humans kiss before, they did it all the time! Regardless, it wasn’t anywhere near as magical as the humans made it look. Cub leaned back, unsatisfied. Scar looked bewildered.

“What the fuck was that.”

“Humans do that sometimes. I’ve always wanted to try. Was that cool or was it gross.”

“I mean I don’t know if it was gross or if it was just weird as hell. Why do humans do that?”

Cub shrugged, “Usually it’s because they like like each other, but I just wanted my eyes inside your scars.”

“Sometimes I think you’re trying to peel my skin off with your eyes, and I am still undecided on whether or not I like that or if you’re a freak who needs to be around more people desperately. None of us have this ‘sensitivity’ problem because we never isolated like you have. At least that’s what I think happened. I don’t know. Your sun is bright as hell, it doesn’t make any sense why you’ve become sensitive to all light. Is it the color?”

“I like your scars.”

Scar rolled his eyes. “I know.”

“I like you.”

Scar stopped. He smiled that half-smile of his, just one of many things about him that Cub had really grown to enjoy. It had never made Cub happy before, a smile. Not on his face or anyone else’s. But this one.. Cub was starting to get it. He was starting to get it.

“Well good. This was getting embarrassing.” Before Cub could process or say anything, Scar’s head was back on his, not in a kiss, just a light push into the dark spots of his face, black, brilliant, serene. Cub closed his eyes and relaxed. Yeah.. he didn’t mind this at all.

[scre6m]

only crying a normal amount 🥹

[platinum-horizons]

4

edit: 4 was NOT supposed to be there i dont know how it happened

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[absinthemindedly]

//

[fabulous-cookware252]

I just saw the worst, least-understanding-of-the-plot,-characters,-and-themes post about a classic movie I love and I can't let go of the bafflement it made me feel. I'm hoping ranting about it will be cathartic enough to lower my blood pressure.

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

listen to the inspo song!!!

[andypantsx3]

IF YOU LET ME : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Disguised as a eunuch in the imperial palace, a mistake on your part leads to your unmasking before the prince. By rights it should mean your death, but Prince Shouto seems to have another plan in mind... CONTENT: Prince Shouto, AFAB fem reader, identity reveal, class differences, slight gender fuckery, historical sexism, implications of past sexual threats, vaguely Heian-era historical Japanese setting, deep historical inaccuracy, SFW (2.2k) NOTES: This was a barely-edited unplanned little thought demon I had to exorcise lol, thank you for being patient with me. Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

Your breast bindings were missing.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You flipped your sleeping mat again, clawing through your blankets frantically, hoping you’d somehow missed them the first time. But only the tatami floor stared back up at you—strands of woven rice straw pale and bare.

You muttered a curse under your breath—you’d definitely forgotten to extract your bindings from where you’d shucked off yesterday’s robes, forgotten to squirrel them away before sinking into bed. And now they’d been whisked away by a palace maid to be laundered. Or worse, discovered.

Your eyes darted through your small sleeping chamber frantically, seeking a solution. You were already late for Prince Shouto’s first lesson of the day, and you needed all the time you could get with him today. You’d promised the Minister of Rites that you’d have a word with the prince, to try to persuade Shouto to accept the wife he was so persistently putting his advisors off on.

You were, after all, the prince’s closest confidant—his personal secretary and calligraphy tutor, an unthreatening eunuch from the lower classes with whom Shouto was clearly most at ease. And at least most of that was true—you did have Prince Shouto’s trust, friendship, and respect, as much as a member of the imperial family could bestow on a commoner, anyway.

If he was going to listen to anyone on the subject of taking a wife—at the very least one concubine, if not his future empress—it would be his trusted friend the eunuch.

There was just one very important detail that everyone, even His Highness, was mistaken about on that account.

One blasted detail that could get you killed at best were anyone to figure it out.

Your eyes fell back to your blankets, and you immediately grabbed two fistfuls, yanking as hard as you could until you felt the fabric give, the rip and tear echoing in the small space of your sleeping chamber. You kept ripping until a strip came free, a little smaller than what you usually had to work with.

But you were not about to complain, not at a time like this.

You flung the strip down to scrabble with the tie of your underrobe, unknotting it with fumbling fingers. You were just about to fling it off of you when there was a careful knock against the screen of your door.

You didn’t manage to stifle your reflexive scream, stumbling through a half-executed turn towards the door. The screen was suddenly thrown back with alarming force, Prince Shouto’s figure filling the doorway.

You yanked your shirt closed again, panicking, as you caught sight of the concern on his handsome face. You barely registered the other details, mind tripping over excuses, unable to appreciate the way his shoulders looked all the broader in his sokutai the way you normally did.

“Are you well?” Shouto demanded, his normally soft tone a little ragged. You watched his mismatched eyes dart quickly around your chambers, as if seeking a threat, only to drop back to you when there was none.

“Your Highness,” you said, lost for anything else.

“I heard—there was a scream,” he said, his eyebrows scrunching the tiniest bit.

He always looked his most beautiful when he was confused, you thought, focusing hard on a particular problem. Not that a common woman had any business thinking anything about the crown prince, never mind a woman masquerading as a man. But it was hard to ignore a face that beautiful, the way his gaze sharpened with focus, full mouth pursing as he thought through a problem.

He looked like that now as his gaze darted over you. And then suddenly his eyes dipped to your collarbone, and his features went perfectly, horribly still.

An elegant hand reached back, and he immediately drew the screen closed behind him, eyes never leaving you as he took another step into the room.

You stumbled back, almost tripping over your bedding. You did not dare to turn towards him or away, scuttling sideways instead like a nervous crab.

“Your Highness,” you began again, heart shooting into your mouth when Shouto’s long fingers tangled in your undershirt.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softening. You gripped your shirt closed as hard as you could against the tug of his fingers. “Did something happen?”

“N-nothing,” you stammered, not liking the way it made him clearly more suspicious. “I was just changing.”

But Shouto’s beautiful, cursed eyes dipped to your bedding, where the torn strip lay across your blankets in plain sight. You could almost see the calculation as his eyes widened the tiniest fraction, and his grip tightened on your robes. Of course he’d seen it, and of course it looked like a wound dressing you’d just been about to apply.

He took another step closer, too close, until you could feel the heat of him through your sleeve, smell the sweet blend of dried herbs the servants kept his clothing stored with.

You tried to twist out of Shouto’s grip without rucking up your shirt, but his hold was too strong.

“Let me see,” he ordered in his soft, low tone. Your heartbeat kicked up higher, hammering in your chest so hard it could have broken a rib.

It was a death sentence to ignore an order from a member of the imperial family. It was also a death sentence to reveal what you’d been these many years. You hoped Prince Shouto, something of a friend to you, would let you off lightly for ignoring him.

“Please, Your Highness,” you said, clinging even harder to the closure of your shirt. “I will be ready in just a moment, I am simply running late. I beg your forgiveness.”

But if there was one thing about the crown prince, it was that he was stubborn, bullheaded when it came to the ideas and goals he took seriously. And he had always made it clear he took your friendship seriously.

That perfect mouth shifted into a frown. “I order you to let me see,” he said, his tone still soft but firm. “You will let me.”

You froze under his hands, muscles locking up in panic. Shouto was still between you and the door, and your chambers were not wide enough for you to slip around him without him being able to easily catch you. He was also, unfortunately, extremely quick with sharp reflexes honed by years of swordsmanship. There would be no escaping this situation.

Fuck. Fuck, you were out of ideas.

“Hold still,” Shouto commanded gently, long fingers prying your stiff ones away from the shirt ties. You watched his face in mute panic, not wanting to see the flash of betrayal and disgust, but unable to look away as he prised your robes aside. Shame heated your cheeks.

Shouto’s long eyelashes dipped, before his gaze froze on your chest. For a second, he went as stiff as you. Then he was yanking your robes closed again, a watercolor of pink washing across the bridge of his nose and those high cheekbones.

His eyes darted back to yours, his expression perfectly still though his face was flushed. “You never told me,” he said accusingly.

The right thing to do in this situation was to go to your knees in a kowtow and beg for his mercy, but Shouto still had a grip on your robes and did not look like he meant to let go. You ducked your head in as much of a bow as you could manage, your face warm. “Your Highness, I have no excuse. I have betrayed you.”

When you had concocted this scheme, you had wanted to put yourself beyond the reach of a local official back in your home village. His advances were becoming increasingly aggressive, and as a common woman, you had no recourse. You could only escape into a place where his rule was circumvented by a superior one, where no man would think to have an interest in you.

You had not intended to become Prince Shouto’s tutor, had not anticipated the true risk of your gambit until it was already too late. But you would still rather die than be returned into the hands of your village’s preceptor.

If this is how it ended…

“I have compromised you,” Shouto’s voice startled you out of your memories.

You glanced up at him, befuddled.

Shouto’s fingers twisted in your robes. “Just now, and—all the many times we have been alone until now. I did not know.”

Honor and compromise were the least of your concerns right now, and would matter even less in the event of your death. You did not know where the prince meant to go with this.

“Your Highness, you were not expected to know,” you said, shame coiling in your belly. You would make the same choices you had made over again, if given the chance, but you had never meant to betray Shouto. You had genuinely liked him, and you would regret losing the chance to be by his side in the years to come.

Shouto’s eyes flicked over you in some kind of assessment. He lifted one hand from your shirt, gasping your scholar’s cap and tugging it free from your hair. You felt his fingers tangle so very gently in the strands of your hair, seeking out the ties and pins.

Your own eyes traced over him as he did, drinking in the firm planes of his chest in his sokutai, the dark blue a beautiful contrast with his pale skin. You heard pins dropping to the ground beside you, as Shouto rubbed a strand of your hair between his fingers. He seemed to be evaluating you in a new light, relearning your appearance though a clearer lens.

Disgust and betrayal were not evident in how delicately he was handling you. You did not know what this meant.

“They will put you to death if they know,” Shouto said, eyes slowly moving from the hair between his fingers to your face again. “You cannot hide like this forever.”

You did not know what other choice was to be had. If Shouto did not plan to put you to death himself, then what other choice did you have than to go on pretending?

Shouto’s gaze dropped to your mouth and you realized you’d spoken the thought aloud.

“There is one other way to put you beyond the reach of the court,” he said slowly.

You felt your eyebrows raise in question. “I cannot think of it, Your Highness.”

Shouto absently curled the strand of your hair about his fingers, the little crease between his perfect eyebrows appearing again. He looked the way he did when he played games with his strategy tutor, or when he was thinking hard on a new sword form.

“The ministers wish for me to take a wife,” Shouto said softly. “My household is mine to manage alone.”

Outside the laws of the court, he meant. A strange flutter went through you, heat spotting your cheeks again. Shouto’s presence before you was suddenly magnified a hundred fold, and you became singularly aware of the breadth and height of him, the heat of him almost against you.

“You do not want a wife,” you said, well aware of the many years he’d spent bullheadedly resisting the idea.

“I do not want any the ministers have selected for me,” Shouto corrected.

Your whole body felt flushed again. He meant he was amenable to you.

You had never let yourself think it but he was more than amenable to you as well.

“I would keep you safe,” he promised.

You almost slumped to the floor in relief, only Shouto’s grip on you keeping you upright. You would not die. You would not be returned to your village. You would, through all of this, it seemed, keep Shouto’s friendship.

“I know you would,” you said.

Shouto understood your acceptance. Slowly his fingers untwined themselves from your hair, and he drew your robes more firmly around you. Your body burned hot, still, stomach fluttering under his renewed brand of regard.

“I will arrange it quickly,” Shouto said. “You must stay here. I will send someone for you.”

You nodded.

Shouto looked regretful as he stepped back from you. “We will do it properly, later,” he said. “I will pay my respects to your family.”

You waved a hand frantically, shocked by the idea of the future emperor making his bows in your family’s rundown hut. It was not as though you would be his first-ranked wife or empress! He did not need to pay any respects to the family of a concubine out of a common family!

“There is no need,” you insisted, but Shouto was already turning towards the door. You could see by the set of his shoulders this was another thing he meant to be stubborn about.

“I will honor my first and only wife,” he said, turning to pin you with that heterochromatic gaze.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, but you had no time to reply before he was sliding the door closed behind him again, leaving you alone with the sudden weight of the statement. It had all happened so quickly, you had never expected that Shouto meant what he did.

You wondered what it meant that Shouto had made such a promise so readily, when he had known the truth about you for only minutes.

And you wondered if, like your original entry into the palace, you were getting yourself into something far beyond what you initially understood.

[cute-sucker]

rafe with a girl who’s very studious and serious about school and one day she fails a big test after studying for it for hours and she just sobbing while he’s trying to calm her down :(

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ "THIS DOESN'T MAKE SENSE...I FAILED RAFE! I FAILED," you sobbed into the phone, holding the phone to your chest. you can hear a slight sigh at the end of the phone, and then his soothing voice.

"fuck. is that the one you studied for hours on end? the one i had to test you during our date?"

you hiccup, swaying from side to side as you wipe your eyes, "yes rafe. that's the one. i studied so hard, and i got a sixty percent." you can hardly get yourself to say the number, nevertheless look at the wrinkled paper that you checked over and over again. when you got it, you believed that there must have been something wrong. wrong marking, different grade, switched up grade, sabotage, but once you made it to the teacher and they told you what it was...you couldn't help but gulp with despair. it truly was a bad grade, there was no mistake except the one you made.

that was a d. that meant that your shiny gpa was down the drain. you couldn't think straight as you stared at the red-marked grade. and you got it in history. even worse. the one class you couldn't even keep up. your grades were everything that kept you together, you studied everywhere—the bus, the grocery store, the bookstore, and the fancy country club that rafe brought you to—

but it hadn't worked. so what could you do? you just held the paper, tears dripping down your chin, you heard rafe's voice again, "i'm coming over."

suddenly you're scrambling for the phone again, "no, forget about it. i'm a mess, and i failed, and you have an important meeting probably."

then you hear a slight shuffle on this side, almost as if he's moving papers around.

"nah' i'll be there in ten."

before you can tell him that it's fine, he hangs the phone and you're left with trembling hands on your phone. you get up, dusting yourself off, swallowing your pride as you look at the paper again.

rafe's always been so supportive of your studies, thick eyebrows furrowed when he hears your rants about your grades. see, you knew he wasn't the brightest, but he held on his own with you. he let you spend his money on different tutors, different college club things, different textbooks and apps you needed to get the best grade. yet...here nothing had worked.   

so there you were, pathetic and sniffling as you leaned near the doorway. after a few minutes you heard the key turn, and in came rafe cameron. he was in a nice polo shirt, biceps straining, and a concerned look on his face as he looked down at you.

you couldn't even hold yourself together, as you crumbled around him, "i failed rafe. i failed. i—"

"shh, shhh," he muttered, eyes flickering around the cramp space you called home. your papers were sprawn on the floor, and a soup that you'd made earlier was laid cold and forgotten. dishes were stuffed in the dishwasher, and there was one dim light on.

he was almost too big in your small apartment, but you could see the earnestness in his eyes as he treaded carefully. picking you up, he muttered softly to you.

"now, i don't even know what to do rafe! i don't know what to do."

"the grade doesn't define you'know? that's all bull," he started passionately, and then gestured to himself, "i mean look at me. barely passed high school but i'm doing fine. more than fine." rafe muttered, scratching the back of his head as he watched you sniffle.

you let out a soft wail, "but it does matter! i—" then you just shake your head and grab him by the shirt. then you decide that it's not worth it. it's not worth to scream or fight. you're too tired for that, instead, you just lean into his warmth.

"i just want to be close to you, forget about it all."

suddenly rafe softens, "yea. c'mere," then he bundles you up, and you feel yourself succumbed to sleep

EXTRA:

"hey and if matters at all, you're a 100% for me,"  rafe muttered into your hair, as you woke up. you rubbed your eyes, before you squirmed away from him, scowling at him. "i think that's an a+"

you groan. "too soon?" he murmured, pulling you in closer.

"way too soon.

"yea, shoulda known. sorry."

[charlotteking23]

Lost Paddock Pass - MV33/1

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You forget your paddock pass so now your being chased by security guards.

You walked into the paddock wearing a flowy pink dress paired with a Hermes white bag, Louis Vuitton heels, and a white bow in your hair.

Scanning your paddock pass, you walk through the entrance. As expected Paparazzi were already taking pictures of you, probably because you were dating a three-time world champion.

As you walk, you notice Max explaining something to Charles. You quickly sped up your walk before wrapping your arms around Max's waist and hugging him.

"Hi Maxie", you said but it was muffled by your face buried in his chest.

You could feel his chest vibrate in laughter before hugging you back and swaying your body from side to side.

"Hi Liefje, Come on let's go inside", He smiled bringing your body inside Redbull hospitality not before saying goodbye to Charles.

"Are you ready?" you question Max.

Today was an important day for Max, it was his home race the Dutch Grand Prix.

"Don't worry Liefje, I will win for you and for my home", Max said reassuringly, he was excited to win in his home race.

Max's whole family was here to support him in his home race. Though you were still iffy about Max's father being here, knowing about Max's past experience with his father was not good.

"Shit Schatz, I forgot my phone in the car...can you go grab it for me please", Max said slightly panicked.

You agreed, grabbing Max's car keys on the way out. You didn't want to stress out Max more today, He already has a lot on his mind since its his home race..

You quickly left the garage, walking towards the exit of the Paddock before heading towards the driver's parking area. You head towards the parking spot that had Max Verstappen on it, unlocking his car.

You retrieved his phone, smiling at the wallpaper, It was of you and him in cute matching Pajamas sets for Christmas.

You held the phone going towards the paddock, remembering you had to scan back in to go through, you search for the pass through your purse.

"Damn it, I must have lost it in the Paddock...What do I do?" You panicked knowing they won't let you in without a pass. And you couldn't phone Max since you had his phone.

You shyly went up to the security guard, trying to play a conversation in your head on how this would turn out, nothing good.

"Excuse me, sir, I lost my paddock pass, I had already went in today but I quickly had to get my boyfriend's phone from the car," You said shyly while holding up your boyfriend's phone hoping they would let you in.

"No pass, No entre," The security guard said pointing towards the exit sign.

"But um sir, one of the driver's Max Verstappen is my boyfriend", you tried to explain but the security only glanced at you clearly not believing you.

You walked away pouting in defeat trying to figure out how to get in the paddock without a pass.

The only thing you could think of is just to run straight in.

"Okay, You got this", you said to yourself, trying to build up some courage.

You ran straight, stopping to jump over the metal fence before running away. You could hear screams and shouts from the security guards demanding you to stop, even threatening you to be banned from future races.

You bump into someone but not stopping only loudly apologizing, not affording to stop by any means necessary. People quickly moved out of the way seeing you being chased.

You ran as quickly as possible but It's not easy since you're running in expensive heels at that.

You saw fans and paparazzi following you, hoping to get the reason why the security guards were running after you like a criminal.

Already hearing the headline Max Verstappen's girlfriend being chased by guards all because of a paddock pass, sentenced to 5 years in Jail.

You frowned at the thought but quickly your frown turned into a happy one seeing the Redbull garage close by, but the security guards were almost catching up to you.

At the perfect moment, you saw Max walking out of the garage probably looking for you since you have been gone for a while.

In a split-minute decision, when you were close enough you flung yourself straight into Max's arms hiding your face into his chest trying to catch your breath with all that running.

You saw the security guards run up to you, "Sorry Mr. Verstappen for the inconvenience we will escort this girl out".

Max put up his hand stopping the security guards from touching you, "No need, this is my girlfriend", Max said.

The security guards look at you and then at Max before realizing their mistake not wanting to see Mad Max.

The guards apologize to you and Max before walking away. Max then quickly ushers you inside the Redbull garage away from prying eyes.

You quickly gave Max his phone with an awkward smile on your face.

"What happened Liefje?" He said taking his phone before sitting you in his driver's room and giving you a bottle of water.

"Well, I got your phone but lost my Paddock pass somewhere so I tried to explain to the security guard that I knew you and I already came into the paddock. But he denied my entre," You said pouting at the memory.

"So, What did you do instead Liefje," Max said entertained with the story, squishing your pouty cheeks playfully.

"I decided to jump over the metal fence and run towards the Rebull garage but the guards were chasing me until I saw you and flung into your arms," You said hugging Maxie tightly around his waist since you were sitting and he was standing in front of you.

Max just laughs at you, "You had quite an adventure today Schatz".

You grin playfully before taking off your heels massaging it.

"Oh, Liefje it must have hurt to run in those heels, huh", Maxie said before taking your feet and massaging them for you, it felt like heaven.

"Next time, I will give you multiple copies of your paddock pass so you never lose it", Max said jokingly before you also joined in the laugh agreeing it was a good idea.

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[strangersteddierthings]

Made With Love

It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.

Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)

... Did he miss Robin's birthday?

No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.

It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.

This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"

Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.

"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.

"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"

"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."

"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.

(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)

Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...

He thinks he might have fucked up big time.

"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"

Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."

Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.

Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.

The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.

Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.

He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.

The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"

"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."

The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.

Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.

Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.

He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.

Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.

Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.

"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.

Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"

"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.

Steve looks positively smitten.

Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.

"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.

He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.

He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.

Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.

-

The reddit post that inspired this -