#they have the exact same bed hair

[sevrinve]

bedtime

[just-rogi]

im so weird with physical contact and i just kinda assumed that im not a hugger and thats ok! i dont like people in my bubble or touching me and hugs make me uncomfortable and physical contact makes my skin crawl... or so i thought??? idk whats been happening recently but i think i actually reallly love physical contact??? like some switch filpped in my brain and i went from "i love you and id prefer a fist bump over a hug thank u " to "pls hug me actually, i love you braiding my hair ,i dont freak out when i can feel your arms pressed against mine in the back seat of the car anymore, we can share a blanket actually this isnt bad at all"

ive been a no touching person for my whole life, i went on a week long field trip in high school for dance and slept on armchair in the hotel room every night because i didnt want to share a king sized bed with my good friend, and this weekend i woke up realizing that i fell asleep on the couch in my friends arms sharing a pile of blankets?? like?? im not mad but im so confused about how this happened because for my WHOLE life ive hated being touched but since june ive completly changed??

and as a side note how do your explain to your amazing and wonderful friend group who all respect your boundaries very well that actually scratch literally everything ive said in the past about my boundaries and comfort idk why i did that im cool with touching now pls and thank u

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

“i love having wavy/curly hair!” i saids with excitement. little did i know… it would be a feature. a creature feature. featuring… the creature (morning hair)

[pearlywritings]

New day - same you

synopsis: morning routine with them and other sweet moments

pairing and characters: Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dan Heng, Gallagher, Gepard Landau, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sunday, Veritas Ratio (separately) x reader

tw: established relationship (marriage/dating), fluff, halovian!reader in Sunday's, halovians have back wings here, foxian!reader in Jiaoqiu's (and his part is written before 2.5)

word count: ~4k words

Argenti

With Argenti it almost feels like competition - who's going to be the first to awake and marvel in the morning beauty of their sleeping lover. He, with his flashy but sincere words and loving kisses all over your wrists, and you, with your soft touches and quiet murmurs of the declarations of love.

The fog of the dream is hard to fight through this particular morning - Argenti stayed up way past midnight to fix the “One and Only’s” engine and practically fell into your embrace after the shower, worming his way under your lax arms. His body clock, however, is sending alarms to his brain, pushing him to wake up, stimulating the thought of opening his eyes and having a blessing of witnessing your angelic face.

Which is gone as soon as it appears. You, awake, and still holding your lover in your arms, tug him a bit closer and let his face nestle into the crook of your neck. As a fellow Knight of Beauty there is no hate in your heart for the broken engine that kept Argenti busy tonight, but it doesn't mean you can't dislike it and let him sleep a bit more. It's not like you two are rushing anywhere.

When your tender hand is laid upon his head, lovingly patting and threading fingers through the heavy locks of crimson hair, the knight feels bliss. His mind is sedated and willingly enters the gates of another dream, just as sweet as your presence.

This morning you may not have your share of compliments, breaking the little ritual, but it's more than alright. After all, the beauty of the proper rest is a nice alternative.

Aventurine

No matter what day it is - Aventurine is always the first one to wake up. An occupational hazard, if you could name working for the IPC this way. However, the one of the Stonehearts despises leaving the bed without you, and even more despises waking you up before your alarm clock goes off.

Aventurine is a busy man, who is used to starting his days with calls and messages, managing to have at least three little ‘meetings’ throughout his morning routine. And he can’t have you waking up from his voice taking a sharper edge in the conversation with one of the partners. So you reached a compromise - you sleep with earplugs and he gets to hold you in the morning while on the phone, waking you up with some nudges and kisses once the time comes.

He loves to see your sleepy but absolutely lovesick eyes after he pulls you out of the dream and lets you rest onto his chest with his arm around your body a bit longer, until this exact call is over.

Then you’d take your sweet time in the bathroom and then, as you are cooking breakfast and he is on the phone again, the man would cling to your back with his chin on your shoulder and one arm wrapped around your waist. Then he’d keep talking with you on his lap, keep talking with his hands busy with the dishes, keep talking as you pack his and your lunches. He’d be having the fourth or the fifth call by the time you are all dressed up and smoothing some invisible creases on his clothes, but he’ll always put the caller on hold to get his ‘good morning’ with a kiss and ‘have a wonderful day’ with another kiss.

But don’t be fooled - he does all that only because you explicitly expressed that you don’t mind. Just one word of yours - and he’ll swiftly finish the call, turning off his phone and giving you so much attention that by the time you both leave for work, you're gonna be affectionately sick of him.

Blade

It’s ten more minutes, the swordsman reminds himself after a quick glance at the wall clock and back to your sleeping figure. Nowadays, the Stellaron Hunter doesn’t deny you the request of staying in bed with you even if he can’t sleep normally and stays awake many hours through the night. After some nagging from you he even stopped getting in bed with his clothes on, opting for the sleeping pants and shirts you’ve bought for him to match most of yours.

Blade is leaning back on the headboard with a pillow squeezed in between as one hand, wrapped in bandages, resting on his thigh, while the other is carefully caressing the side of your head. It’s hard to believe that someone is able to snooze so peacefully next to a man like him, let alone, pressing their face into his thigh with arms wrapped around his leg.

And ‘peace’ is what Blade cherishes the most during the mornings spent with you. He makes you feel safe. You make him feel relaxed. His body next to yours is the fruit of your successful worming into his heart, your body next to his is his sanctuary. The man’s mind is at ease and he more often than not falls into the light slumber, dreamless, yet lacking nightmares too.

You crinkle your nose under the more prominent touch of his fingers across your face, and Blade stiffens. It’s still three minutes more, he doesn’t want to wake you up earlier than that. Yet at the same time, something inside him is burning with the strongest yearning of seeing your eyelids sliding up and the prettiest drowsy eyes looking up at him with so much adoration, that his heart starts bleeding like pierced.

The Stellaron Hunter looks at the clock again. One more minute. Maybe tomorrow morning he’ll let you both sleep in. Maybe it’s because you are not in any of the upcoming scripts. Or maybe it’s because he’d like to try cuddling once more.

Boothill

When in his travels, the cyborg doesn't sleep in the usual sense of this word. The correct way to describe it would be ‘recharge’, hiding somewhere in the secure corner, not even lying down, just sitting comfortably enough and letting his systems cool off and eyes plus brain rest.

When he is back home to you however… He literally starts whining and complaining if you take too long to join him in your shared bed.

Boothill always asks you to sleep in panties/shorts only. Not because he is a pervert (though he indeed can touch or lick or suck a time or two), but because in his absence he missed the heat and softness of your skin so much, that he immediately takes the little spoon position, burying his face into your chest and keening on the feeling of your fingers scratching his scalp and playing with his hair.

He loves falling asleep to the tender thumping in your chest, and even more so he loves waking up to the very same sound. It reminds him that he isn't alone in this world, that even with all the losses he experienced he still has someone to adore and treasure. He always hugs your waist a little tighter upon awakening and presses a long kiss to the valley in the middle of your chest, closing his eyes and focusing on the deep breaths you release. It feels like heaven. It is home.

Plus, he loves your confident morning behavior, when you don't bother putting on a shirt after getting out of the bed and walking around the house still mostly bare, playfully swatting his hands away when he reaches to you with grabby motions. Well, given he sometimes walks around completely naked, he has nothing to accuse you of.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng isn’t particularly fond of you sleeping in his room. Not because he guards its contents akin to a dragon that fusses over its treasures or because he doesn’t want your body pressed close to his, no. Simply because his ‘bed’ is hard. And, admittedly, the mattress is not big enough to fit two people comfortably.

But you, oh you, are always so sweet about it and reassure him that you love the close proximity it brings, and that you are ready to deal with the slight body ache in the morning, understanding that Dan Heng himself is more at ease while staying in his own ‘den’ (he is working on it).

Mornings usually start with you on top of him - even in his unconscious state the man still worries about you, so he’d rather have you use him as a pillow (and, as you once teased him, he’d use you as a weighted blanket). Next, you’ll be swift to leave his side, throwing his coat on and quietly tiptoeing to the kitchen.

Usually, by the time you return, your boyfriend is already awake, but still staying under the blanket, waiting for you. He gratefully accepts a steaming mug with a calming herbal tea and you peck his cheek, flopping next to him with your own mug in a hand. You are sitting quietly, shoulders touching and knees bumping, while you are sipping on your drinks and chasing away the remnants of sleep.

Dan Heng smiles when you wiggle your feet under the blanket and put your head onto his shoulder, and as he turns his head to kiss the top of yours, securing a tender end to your special morning ritual, the man thinks he is indeed healing. And that’s what he cherishes about mornings with you most.

Gallagher

Gallagher takes extra long showers in the evenings after his shifts, because he doesn’t want to bring the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and anything else of the bar’s patrons to your bed. He doesn’t want you to grimace first thing in the morning and push him away, complaining about the stink. He’d much rather have your body tightly pressed against his, maybe face squished into his chest, arm thrown over his waist and legs stuck between his.

Gallagher loves just lazing in bed with you, as you are both awake. Loves rubbing his cheek against yours and hearing you reprimand him lightheartedly for the stubble. And yet, you never move away, welcoming his big palm resting on your hip, fingers lightly digging into fat and dragging you even closer to him.

Today you, however, throw a leg over his body and swiftly climb on top, immediately settling onto his chest like many times before. It’s because you know he has a night shift and you don’t plan to let him go until at least lunch. And your lover is strong, he can throw you off using just one arm or by simply turning his body under yours, but he does none of this, all because he absolutely adores your little sparks of possessiveness.

His heavy hand lowers onto your head, gently ruffling your hair, to which you grumble, poking his side with a single finger, only to scratch him lightly with all five a second later. Oh how deliciously he shivers and even a following pinch to your ass is unable to wipe a pleased smile off your face.

He’ll tell you stupid stories from the night before at the bar, share the worst jokes his patrons slurred and admit the teasing Sioban put him through once again, because ‘the old dog was glancing at the clock, counting the minutes till running home to you’. And you’ll be laughing. And he’ll be laughing too.

Gepard Landau

The Captain of the Silverman Guards is obviously the man of schedule. He wakes up at the same time, he wraps up his morning routine in the same period of time, and he leaves the house at the same time.

Every morning the man is trying his hardest to get out of the bed as sneakily as he can, because otherwise there are chances of waking you up and his heart cries when you follow him around wrapped in the blanket while whining that it’s so cold to be out of the bed and his warmest embrace (yes, you’re sometimes faking it, but come on, your golden retriever of a boyfriend is warm and comfy to cuddle with).

Can never deny you, when you squeeze yourself past him in the hot shower, explaining that yes, you are cold, and yes, it’s saving water (obviously not to admire your handsome lover and steal a couple of morning kisses from him).

You are still sleepy as the water is gushing on your body, which is held in place by two strong hands on your hips. Gepard can’t take his eyes from your cute droopy expression and smiles softly when you lift your head to let the water splash against your face. He doesn’t like it when you sacrifice your sleep in the mornings, but he can’t lie to himself that he loves spending these moments with you either. He gently brushes your wet locks away from your cheeks and forehead, leaning down to plant a small peck on your chin.

A cheerful ‘hooray’ is coming out in bubbles due to the water getting into your mouth, but you don’t care, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest instead. Oh Qlipoth, let this poor man be not that obvious with the raging blush from the new mark blooming under his uniform while leaving the house

Jiaoqiu

Waking up with the rays of rising sun to throw on an embroidered robe and get to the kitchen to cook another delicious breakfast for you and him is indeed a pleasurable and relaxing part of the healer’s morning. However, much more than that he enjoys wondering in his head who’s going to wake up hugging whose tail the evening before, just to arise the next morning and see if his guess is right.

Opening his fanged mouth in a big yawn and squeezing still shut honey golden eyes even more, Jiaoqiu starts his day with a nice full body stretch. Something soft gets into his mouth and immediately jerks, provoking an abrupt puff of air released from the male’s lungs. There is a dissatisfied mumble somewhere close to his collarbones, and when heavy eyelids slide open, the foxian catches just the swift motion of your ears pressing back against your head.

He can't help but smile softly, leaning down and kissing the top of it (his own pink ear slightly twitching as you quietly murmur in delight), then moving back and looking down to assess your sleeping positions.

Face to face and legs tangled together, your bodies lay closely to each other. With your nose buried into his neck and arms wrapped around his frame, Jiaoqiu, to his greatest disappointment, notices both your tails peacefully resting on the mattress behind your backs.

What a pity… Now it means you won't be helping him comb through his fur to make it look presentable and he won't be doing the same to you… Unless…

As the clawed hand carefully reaches behind you with a clear intention to mess up your tail and sly eyes crinkle in mischief, Jiaoqiu is truly ready to start his morning routine even to the extent of your complaints.

Jing Yuan 

Jing Yuan is a true connoisseur of soft things. He has the fluffiest carpets back at home, silkiest fabrics for clothes, his bed is like one big white cloud, and his pet is a lion with a huge mane. Not to mention his beloved, who has the softest thighs to nap onto in the whole universe (he has never compared to others, but he is a firm believer).

The General has been having trouble waking up in the morning for a while now. Alarm clock? Ignored. Mimi’s nudges and complaining groans? Ignored too. Your loving voice and tender kisses all over his face? Careful, he is the Dozing General, not the Weak one - you are very much at risk every time to be dragged back in bed in your husband's embrace.

And that little fight you put up every morning to get him from under the blanket and send him off to the bathroom is his favorite part. Just like today.

If anyone was to walk into your bedroom, they'd see a strange image of your strained form being hunched and jerking backwards, trying to rip your arm from an iron grasp, and just a single hand visible in the mess of pillows and blankets, holding onto your wrist and trying to pull you back onto the bed.

You swear, the man hasn't even opened his eyes, relying solely on his other sharp senses to effortlessly catch you when you tried to flee after kissing him good morning.

It's pointless to remind him of the meeting today - he'll get there in time either way, but you still try to hold your ground and win this fight of stubbornness.

Jing Yuan laughs, when with a loud gasp you fall onto his swiftly sitting up figure and are immediately thrown back onto the bed with his sturdy body pinning yours underneath. He loves the heat of your face he feels when his cheek is pressed to yours. He adores when you wiggle under him, refusing to admit that this display of his strength didn't leave you hot and bothered. And he is absolutely smitten when eventually you let out a long exasperated sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders, admitting your defeat, agreeing to sleep for a little bit more.

Loucha

The merchant is too used to the feeling of loneliness in his travels. Getting out of a hardly couple-of-days-familiar bed, grabbing a pin from a nightstand table to fix a quick messy bun and, swiftly stopping by the bathroom to freshen up his sleepy face, the man drags his feet to the kitchen.

Oil is sizzling in a pan, as the man throws the cut vegetables in it, grabbing a spatula. He is barefoot, still in his sleep wear and long locks of golden hair hanging in messy waves to his shoulder length. It’s the sight that is hard to resist, and as much as you’d love to keep watching your lover, so uncharacteristically unkept and cozy, the need to get closer to him gets too strong. As your arms encircle his waist and lips press to wherever you can reach, Loucha doesn’t fight a soft smile. Yes, on some of his trades he’s on his own, but your presence is such a sedative to his soul and mind.

You ask him what he is cooking and he answers, letting you duck your head under his arm, so you could see for yourself, and then offers you to choose something extra if you so desire. Giving him your response, you immediately suggest helping, but he declines, carefully prying one of your hands from his stomach and lifting it to his lips, murmuring how he doesn’t want your pretty fingers to get all tired and dirty in the very morning.

But you are a little stubborn, so when he lets you go, you stay behind his back and reach for a simple jade pin, heroically holding the whole mass of his hair, and take it out, letting the heavy waves cascade down his back. The fingers he’s just been so worried about, bury into the locks, brushing out the knots, dividing in parts and then twisting them one around another, collecting his hair into a nice, but simple braid.

The merchant is used to spending his mornings alone. But admittedly he loves you being by his side and your adorable little gestures much more.

Sunday

It is a well-known fact that the halovian has OCD and his prior commitment to the Order only proves it more strongly. Admittedly, ever since he’s been released from Gopher Wood’s clutches and left Penacony, he’s been getting better: less paranoid, less twitchy, more forgiving to not only ones around him, but himself. He’s been working on abandoning some of his habits, going as far as styling his clothes in a kind of mismatched yet still smart manner. And still he’s having a hard time not to fuss over his appearance.

While sleeping, Sunday is restless. Having been sharing a bed with him for a long time, you’ve been a witness to all - thrashing from side to side, kicking off and then dragging back the blanket, both head and back wings flapping in sleep, messing equally his feathers and hair (sometimes yours too).

And sometimes, Sunday wants to cry. It’s so intimate, it’s so sweet, it’s something he was used to doing on his own, but here you are - doing it for him, cooing lovingly and pressing tender kisses to the smaller wings protruding from the back of his head, making them tremble slightly and the milky skin of his cheeks - flash with crimson.

But you are understanding. You are gentle, when you offer the miserably looking man your hands and tug him out of the bed, walking him to the huge mirror and asking him to sit down in front of it. Your hands are soft and careful, as they are grooming his wings, rearranging the feathers correctly, removing broken ones, fluffing up the beautiful plumage that reminds of the night sky.

And you trust him to do the same for you! His hands are shaking, his breath is hitching while you keep encouraging him to clean up your wings after sleep, being nothing but patient as the morning sun arises.

The ex-head of the Oak Family used to say that patience is a virtue, but in the dawn glow of your bedroom it turns into his paradise.

Veritas Ratio

No matter what your sleep schedule is, Veritas is always the first one to wake up. Sitting up he reaches for his nightstand drawer, tapping the phone’s screen to stop the alarm clock’s ringing. His other hand automatically reaches for the black-furred critter, nestled onto his lap, to gently pat its soft ‘shell’, receiving a quiet content chirp. Once done with the phone, the man turns to the other side of the bed, reddish-pink eyes lowering to your still sleeping form, with another critter snoozing under your arm. One more is spotted at the end of the bed.

Every single morning Veritas witnesses the same view - well, maybe your sleeping pose is different, or the placement of your ‘cats’ on the bed, or how much of the blanket you've either stolen from him or on the contrary thrown at him… still it's always you, him and your recently adopted pets.

And every single morning your lover can't help but take some minutes from his work out session and dedicate them to simply sitting in bed next to you, observing, doing his own little research. Today he notes how you've moved slightly onto his part of the bed, head occupying both yours and a small part of his pillow. Then his gaze moves downwards, noticing the covers being pulled down your waist and feet peeking from under the blanket. That's so you - feeling stuffy and hot yet still moving closer to his body.

Carefully, not to disturb you and give a couple of more minutes to rest, Veritas bends down and kisses your cheek, testing another hypothesis of his - would you smile in your sleep, upon feeling the touch of his lips on your skin?

He is surprised, when you open your eyes, staring back at him in a haze. Sensing your awakening, the orange critter practically zooms from under your arm, then onto the man’s pillow and off the bed, disappearing somewhere in the hallway. But he hardly pays attention to it. No, his eyes are glued to yours and that sweet smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth as you reach forward to circle his neck with your arms.

Yes, his thinks contented, closing his eyes, another hypothesis of his has been proven right.

[milo-is-rambling]

I miss living with Millie wahhhhh

[httpsserene]

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

[allllium]

Personal Pillow

~ Fluff, Jason being a baby, WC: 419

~ Jason rips his only pillow, somehow he's okay with it

"It's been a week, Jay, you need a new pillow." You tell him in exasperation.

"No I don't." He pouts.

"Yes you do! Who only has one pillow anyway!?" You stare at him as if he's insane. (He is)

"I have all the pillows I need!"

"I am not your pillow!" You run your hands over your face.

"But you're so comfy." He continues pouting, looking almost ridiculous with the way he juts out his bottom lip.

"And you're huge, you'll crush me in my sleep." You exclaim, gesturing to the large man in front of you.

"Body shaming. I can't believe this." You let out a deep sigh.

"Jason, shut the fuck up." You plead, needing to be rid of this stupidity.

"Why? So you can continue bullying me?"

"I'm not bullying you, I just said you can't keep using me as a pillow." Jason looks away from you. He sits down on the couch with an overly upset manner.

"It's the same thing." he hangs his head down and crosses his arms over his chest. You almost laugh at the sight of a grown man pouting like a child because you told him to buy a new pillow.

"Jason, baby, you're getting a pillow. I'm not letting you mess up your neck by sleeping on me every night." You explain as gently as possible.

"Fine but I'm not using it."

You roll your eyes at his childish antics. "Whatever you say." You smile at him.

After you get home from the store Jason's mood has picked up significantly. For a moment you go over everything in your life that has led to this exact moment. He got a pillow.

A child's pillow.

A child's pillow with a Red Hood design.

"I am somehow shocked. I should've known this was coming." You say, walking in the front door.

"Well you didn't want me sleeping on you, so I'll sleep on myself." He declares. Immediately walking towards the bedroom to put his new pillow in it's home.

"It's a child's pillow, Jason. It's barely big enough to fit your head." You fall down onto the bed. A second later, Jason joins you.

"It's perfectly fine." He picks it up and lays it on your stomach. Laying his head on you and the pillow, "See everything's perfect."

"This was not the point of the pillow. In fact it's the opposite." You run your fingers through Jason's hair as he pulls you closer.

Maybe being his personal pillow isn't so bad.

[sturniqlo]

I Can't Do It Alone- C.S

summary: while mom!y/n stays home with their littles all day, chris doesn't see how tired she is and he puts more pressure on her. BLURB

cw: cursing, ANGST; arguing, crying, exhaustion, FLUFF; kissing, comforting, resolved angst

an: not apart of my positive series | lowkey hate this | lowercase intended

masterlist | join my taglist

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"daddy!" the littlest child, leslie, runs to the front door when she hears the door opening. "hey, les! how's my little girl?" chris smiles and locks the door behind him before kneeling down to pick up his daughter. "so so happy that you are home!" she squeals, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly. "yeah, i'm happy to be home too." he kisses her cheek.

"where are your siblings?" he refers to his five year old set of twins and his ten month old baby. "uhm- landon is watching a movie, lia is playing in our playroom and layla is sleeping." she says as chris walks them, and steps over some toys, towards the kitchen where he hears y/n shuffling around. "why don't you go get lia while i say hi to mommy." he puts her back on the floor.

"okay!" she nods, her pigtails swaying in the process. "lia! daddy is home!" the three year old goes up the stairs. chris enters the kitchen and sees his y/n preparing the twins' lunch for tomorrow. "hey, baby." he wraps his arms around her waist from behind. "oh, hey you're home." she turns her head and smiles softly at him. a tiredness in her eyes that chris doesn't seem to notice. "how was your day today?" she asks, going back to making the lunches.

"tiring," y/n almost a scoffs. "i had three meetings for future drops and filmed a video with nick and matt." he kisses her neck. "oh, well, i'm glad you're home now." she closes up the small containers. "hey, is it okay if-" she gets cut off by she yelling of leslie. "mom! lia won't give me the princess pjs!" she stomps into the kitchen. "these are mine!" lia comes in behind her, wearing the pink princess pajamas.

"leslie, you have the same exact ones in your closet." y/n says, opening the fridges and putting the lunches away. "no i don't! mine are dirty!" her lip quivers. "you didn't do the laundry today?" chris says, leaning against the island counter. "no, i had to go grocery shopping, clean the kitchen, our bathrooms, and i just washed everyone's bed sheets." she says, the girls still arguing.

"i'm sure you still had some extra time to do a load or two." he adds on. "no, chris. i had to take care of layla, she's still sick." she sighs, cleaning up a spill of juice from earlier. "hey, mom. can i stay up late and watch toy story 2?" landon comes in. "no landon, you have preschool tomorrow." y/n says for the third time today, he had asked her that earlier. "dad?" landon looks to chris. "of course you can, bud." he ruffles the boys' hair. "you're the best! see mom, dad lets me."

"chris, he has to wake up early tomorrow, he can't stay up late. it's almost time for bed." she looks at chris. "c'mon, just for today." y/n shakes her head. "no. kids, go brush your teeth." chris rolls his eyes at her stubbornness. "why are you being so strict?" he asks. "im not." she practically laughs. "just let landon stay up, tomorrow is friday anyway."

"exactly, he can stay up late tomorrow." she leaves the kitchen and chris follows. she walks into laylas bedroom and checks in on her. she had gotten sick two days ago. "oh my gosh!" chris whispers. "what?" she says. "i forgot to get the medicine for her yesterday." y/n shakes her head. "it's okay, i bought it today." y/n grabs a tissue from the changing table and cleans the snot from layla. "i'm sorry." he says. "it's okay, it happened already." she throws the tissue away and exits the room.

"did i do something? why are you mad." chris continues to follow her back downstairs. "stop it, chris!" she abruptly stops and turns to face him. chris stands there in shock at her sudden outburst. "just stop! i've had the most tiring days- weeks of my life! and you're here saying that you've had a tiring day all because of three meetings and filming video?"

before chris could say anything back, one of the kids upstairs called for y/n. "mom! she spit on me!" y/n sighed and turned back around going back up the stairs to resolve whatever was going on. chris decided to go back into the kitchen and look for the dinner y/n had mentioned earlier.

chris ate dinner alone while y/n was upstairs putting the kids to sleep. he cleaned his used dishes before going upstairs to his bedroom. "wanna tell me what that was all about?" he said when he saw y/n putting on the bedsheets she had washed. "lia had spat on landon." she said. chris shook his head. "not that, i'm talking about what you had said earlier." he walked closer and picked up a pillow along with a clean pillow cover.

"i don't want to talk about it." she mumbled, going back to putting on the bedsheet. "why not, there's clearly something bothering you." he pushes on. "you want to know what's bothering me chris?" she pauses. "i feel like i'm raising these kids all by myself. you're never home! you leave before the twins wake up for school, and you don't return until they're going to bed! on the weekends it's the same!"

"i'm working, you know that." chris says sternly. "i understand that, chris. but does it hurt to take at least one day off? just one day to spend time with them? just one weekend?" she runs a hand though her hair, frustrated. "do you not understand that i'm working my ass off for us! for our kids! for their futures!"

"i know that chris, but you have the privilege to choose to work from home- to stay home and you don't use it!" chris rolls his eyes. "you have the most easiest job in the world, you just watch the kids play, feed them and change laylas diapers!" he raises his voice.

"you're kidding right?!" she scoffs. "you think taking care of four kids alone is easy? i make them breakfast, i take the twins to school, i have to buckle all four of them in the car even with two of them are crying, i have to give a toddler and a baby my attention at the same time, i teach les basic things, i have to clean the whole house, i do the laundry, i cook, i take the trash out, i change diapers, i pick the twins up from school, i help the twins with their homework, i shower all four, i get them ready for bed, i break up arguments, i deal with their tantrums. im tired chris. i have no time for myself."

"i love those kids with all of my heart, but you promised me, chris. you promised me that we would raise them together! it seems like i'm raising them all by myself. and i understand that you're providing financially for us- for them, but i need your help in a non-financial way." she feels tears racing down her face. she didn't even know she was crying.

"y/n.." chris had never realized she was feeling like this. he felt bad, he hated that he never saw this. she was right, he was always there, but never there. he doesn't remember the last time he actually sat down with his children and played with them. "i- i don't know if you actually care about what i just said, but ive kept it in for so long i thought i'd let you know how i feel." with that, she turns around and walks to their bathroom and shuts the door.

chris sighs and runs a hand through his hair, taking it all in. "mom!" he hears one of his kids yell for their mom. without hesitation, he sits up and goes to who was yelling. "layla? you okay?" he sees that her door was the only one cracked open. "daddy?" she whispers. "it's me, why're you crying, sweetheart?" he takes a seat on her small bed when he sees her cheeks are damp with tears. "i- why are you and mommy yelling at each other?"

chris' heart breaks when he hears that his daughter heard them arguing. "we just- we had a little argument- just like you and your siblings have sometimes. but, everything is okay. i promise." the little girl smiles at the reassurance. "oh, okay."

"would you like me to take you and your brother to school tomorrow?" he says after he had been laying with her for sometime. "really?" she gasps. "of course!" he says. "will we pass for donuts? mommy always takes us every friday to get donuts for breakfast." she plays with the hem of his shirt. "we can, does mommy get a donut for herself?" she nods. "mhm, she likes the strawberry sprinkles, she told us you bought one for her on her birthday a long time ago." chris laughs at the exaggeration. "wasn't that long ago, just seven years ago."

chris recalls the time when they had just started dating, it was her birthday and he bought her a strawberry frosted donut with sprinkles and stuck a candle on it. "that's so far ago." she giggles.

he had stayed with her until she fell back asleep again. quietly, he exited the room and gently shut the door behind him. chris headed back to his bedroom where the soft glow of the lamp lit up the room. "babe, are you sleeping?" he says, closing the door and walks over to the bed where y/n is currently laying down. "no." she says and sits up on her shoulder. her hair a bit damp, chris knew she never liked to fully dry her hair with the blow dryer. "can we talk? i don't want to argue, i hate arguing." he tosses his shoes off and situates himself next to her.

"okay." she grabs her glasses off of the side table since she doesn't have her contacts in. they sit in silence for a bit until chris decides to talk first. "'m sorry you've been feeling this way. and- and i cant believe i didn't take notice. i mean everything was right in front of me. i'm never home, you're always alone with the kids, you're constantly tired. i- i'm so sorry, babe. i never meant to make you feel like this- to put you through this."

"it's- it's okay chris. i know you've been so busy with the new drop and everything. but, i just want to let you now that i'm not asking you to drop everything and stay home with us forever, just asking you to take a few days off during the week. i miss you, the kids miss you." chris wraps his arm around y/n and pulls her into his chest.

"'m sorry, 'm so sorry. i'll stay home until wednesday, when i have to film, how's that sound, hm?" he presses a kiss to her forehead. "really?" she looks up at him. "of course, anything for you." he says and lays them both down. "chris!" she squeals.

"let me love on my wife!" he kisses her neck up to her lips. "how about i take you out on saturday night? we take the kids to matt and nicks house. and we go to a nice restaurant and come back here for the night?" he pecks her lips. "i would love that." she hums, kissing him back. they lie together on the bed for a while until y/n speaks up.

"as much as i love being like this, you know i hate outside clothes on the bed." she tugs on his shirt. "i knew i couldn't get away with it." he sighs and kisses her lips before getting up. "i'll be in the shower, choose a movie for when i get out."

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged and NSFW HCs, PART 2!

Once again, minors do not interact! I made you guys a part 2 of my current thoughts. No plot or card spoilers in my comments or reblogs, please and thank you 💙

Part 1

Rafayel

Have you met this man? He wants to know where you’re at and who you’re with at all times. So jealous. It’s probably in your best interest to forget other men exist once you’re dating him

Convinced you to suck his dick while he’s painting to see if it helps convey emotion into his painting—he accidentally pushed the paintbrush through the canvas when he came

Loves when you ride him—it’s so cute watching you bounce on him and use his body for your own pleasure. This also allows him to sit back a little and enjoy every sound you make, every facial expression, every feeling. Of course he does eventually get bored and flips you onto your back for his turn

Before you’re dating, he persuades you into being a nude model for him. He takes his time caressing your skin and telling you he has to “feel” the art, lets his hands wander and linger as he moves your body little by little until you’re in the exact position he wanted. Spends hours staring at your naked body, pretending to draw it (he finished his sketch hours ago but he doesn’t want you getting dressed yet)

Kinks/fetishes: biting, marking, breeding, spit, primal, spanking, mirror sex, praise, wax, shibari, choking, exhibitionism

Loves a pussy job—just sliding his cock between your folds and tapping at your clit like he’s knocking on a door until he cums all over you. Loves this for two reasons: 1) you look exquisite with your clit swollen and body spattered in cum, and 2) the banter between the two of you during a pussy job is top tier. It’s not quite degradation, but you’re both going back and forth in the most teasing way, riling each other up.

Has the biggest praise kink. He thinks he might actually die if you don’t tell him how amazing he is at least 12 times a day

Part of the pretty dick club. It’s actually perfect—thick but not too thick, long but not too long, nice veins wrapping around and well groomed at the base. Some would say it’s perfect.

Xavier

Sometimes when he’s flustered by you, his body emits a soft glow because of his evol. You notice it for the first time when you surprise him with a kiss to his cheek. He glows a little brighter the first time he kisses your lips too.

He’s fallen asleep during sex before. Usually after several rounds, he’s cum twice already, and you’re laying on your sides on the bed and he’s lazily thrusting into you from behind and all of a sudden he stops. Sheathed inside you and an arm around your waist. When you look over your shoulder, he’s sounds asleep and already softly snoring. You have no choice but to do the same, falling asleep in his arms and keeping his cock nice and warm all night

His favorite position is missionary where your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s slowly, deeply thrusting into you. He likes seeing every expression on your face, really feeling you sucking him in, hearing every breathy moan you try to hide from him. And he likes that he can kiss you whenever he wants

Likes to read at night, even though he falls asleep doing it. When you start staying nights at his place, he convinces you to read out loud to him and you do that every night until he falls asleep with his head on your chest.

Kinks/fetishes: hair pulling (he likes when you give a little tug), overstimulation, marking, cum play, face sitting, cockwarming

Loves fresh flowers and brings you new ones every week. He thinks they’re pretty and hopes you appreciate them the way he does. Sometimes he buys them or sometimes he picks them from some lush patch in the forest. Always takes some for himself so he knows when they start dying and he needs to get you new ones.

Loves to lay his head in your lap so you can play with his hair

The kind of guy who will keep his hand holding yours no matter what because he wants to make sure you’re staying beside him. Sometimes takes one of your hands and puts it in the pocket of his sweatshirt with his just so it stays warm.

Zayne

He was very opposed to fucking in the hospital at first but then on a day he was super stressed, you stopped by and sucked him off under his desk while he reviewed charts and he was able to successfully perform a surgery other doctors thought was inoperable—he was more lenient on sex in the hospital after that

Kinks/fetishes: size kink, spanking, brat taming, choking, degradative praise, impact (spanking/flogging/paddle), breeding, edging/denial, thigh riding, dirty talk

Has absolutely bent you over his knee to spank you when you’re being a brat and talking back to him all the time with no regard for your own well being. All he wants is to take care of you because you never take care of yourself. And he would take the best care of you.

Cunt smacks. No further explanation needed.

Favorite sex position is prone bone. He likes hitting it from the back because sometimes the prolonged eye contact that can come with facing each other makes him uncomfortable. But doggy style isn’t what he wants because he wants to feel your body against his, holds you as close as possible. This position works best because every inch of him is atop you and he can feel your body there beneath him, he gets to tuck his head into your neck to bite or kiss or moan into, he’s close to your ear and can whisper filthy things or tell you how close he is or how good you feel around him, and most of all, this position has him so fucking deep inside you that he swore nothing in this life felt better the first time he entered you in this way

Allergic to saying nice things to you 98% of the time.

He runs cold because of his evol and sometimes when he cums, it feels like ice inside of you. Made you scream in surprise the first time but leads to some fun temperature play where he uses his tongue to warm you up after. He’s also often cold and loves to curl up against you and tell you that you’re his heater.

#ThickDickClub

@luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps @adaurielle

[monstersflashlight]

I know you said you don’t write pregnancy, but would you write about a yandere family dynamic? Like a yandere husband with wife reader, and their platonic yandere children they had together? Just some sweet family fluff and stuff?

Hi there! Sorry this took so long, it got lost between other requests. As I don't really like writting families anymore (you can find my fics in other fandoms around, used to love kid fics), I'm gonna do this like a headcanon, because I think that would be funny.

Yandere monster husband who makes you sit and watch as he does all the chores because you are pregnant. There's no way you are risking your precious body or his precious child by moving even a finger. He gets so mad when you try to do something that he ties you down to the bed and spends hours eating your pussy until you are crying out and asking for mercy. He doesn't stop until you are so tired and spent out you can't even fathom moving to do anything else.

Yandere monster husband who threatens your doctor when you are in the middle of labor because you are in so much pain. He growls and grunts at everyone approaching your squirming body as you scream and curse him for doing that to you. He shushes you, caressing your hair and holding your hand until he's the one asking for mercy because of how hard you are squeezing him. He doesn't let go, through. He promised he never would.

Yandere monster husband who is so obsessed over your soft body and milking boobs after birth that he can't stop staring at you. He looks at you constantly, doesn't even let you go to the bathroom alone. And when the baby is asleep, he takes his turn milking your sore boobs and eating your pussy, you did such a hard work, you deserve to be worshiped.

Yandere monster husband who you think he's gonna calm down after the first pregnancy, but the second one is the exact same. And the third one. And by the time you have three toddlers, he's so obsessed with them as he is with you. He threatened at least four parents because their kids made your kid cry. He threatened the principal of the school because they tried to say the scratches on your baby girl's arm were just an accident. So it doesn't surprise you when they forbid him into school perimeter, he has to wait in the car as you go and talk to the teachers. He grunts all the way, but you are secretly glad, he always makes people uncomfortable.

But you love it. You love how protective he is. How caring and obsessed with you and your children, how much he takes care of every single one of you. You are in love with him even if he's a bit... too much sometimes.

[boltwrites]

Kitty

Fandom: Marvel; X-Men Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine / Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: M Tags: Suggestive, Logan's cat ear hair, Teasing

Synopsis: Sleep-addled and maybe a little horny, you ask Logan if he does his hair like that on purpose.

A/N: Fun fact about this one - you could replace reader with Deadpool and the fic would probably be the exact same (but probably with more stabbing). Enjoy! Also I almost titled it Kittyuuuuuhhhh but decided against it LMAO. Is this good? No. But I needed to expel it like some kind of demon. Anyway-

You made a soft pleased noise, arching your back as you stretched as far as you could under the thin sheet of your shared bed. Muscled warmed, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking blearily against the morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

You smiled - sleepy and sweet - as you propped yourself on your elbows to see the figure sat at the foot of your bed. Logan was already awake and halfway dressed, jeans hugging his hips as he leaned over to tug on his boots. Meanwhile, here you were - still in the oversized T-shirt you used as pajamas, your hair messy from sleep.

On that thought, your eyes drifted from where they had been admiring the taunt planes of his back, to Logan's own styled hair. He'd already brushed it, those little tufts that curled into what looked like tiny devil horns neatly defined in the soft morning light.

You frowned. Hmm, no, devil horns wasn't quite right. Not really.

You sat up, a hazy plan dancing through your mind as you crawled your way to the end of the bed. Logan glanced back at you - your heart flipped at the soft smile he offered you, making no effort to shy away from your touch.

"Hey, you don't have to get up because of me," he chided. You didn't listen - instead, you draped your arms around his warm shoulders, leaned in to pepper little kisses along his jaw, even if his beard caught most of them. You didn't mind how it tickled.

"But you're wearing my favorite outfit," you insisted, doing your best not to chuckle. You did like him in worn out jeans and no shirt. It looked good on him. Everything looked good on the man, though.

"I'm wearing half an outfit," he replied, turning just enough so that he could press a proper kiss to your lips. You sighed, pillowing your head on his shoulder as his lips met yours - lazy, gentle. Those weren't words you'd use to describe his kisses at any other time of day, really. This was special.

"I know," you replied, offering him a silly smile as you leaned against his shoulder, arm around his chest preventing him from dressing any further. He didn't seem to mind, though, as your free hand carefully carded your way through his hair - making sure not to displace any of his hard work.

"But something I don't know..." you continued, twirling a finger around the tip of one of the tufts. "Is why your hair ends up like this. Do you do it on purpose?"

"Do I do what on purpose?" he asked. It was laced with a chuckle, like he thought this was one of your half-awake musings. And, perhaps it was, in a way. You were, technically half-awake. But you weren't making things up. It was a real question that had crossed your mind on several separate occasions.

"You know-" you insisted, releasing that little bit of hair from your grasp. "The kitty ears."

"The what?"

He laughed it, pulled away from you if only to make sure you caught a glance of his expression - a mixture of shock and amusement that telegraphed to you that he still wasn't taking you seriously.

You rolled your eyes at him, removing your hand from around his shoulders to scratch along his scalp, up to that little tuft of curled hair. He closed his eyes, made a low rumbling noise in his throat that only seemed to further the illusion that he was really just some big cat in disguise.

"The kitty ears," you insisted, "do you or do you not purposefully style your hair so you have these little kitty ear things?"

You sat up on your knees, reaching both your hands up to curl in the tufts - tugging them just hard enough to make his eyes flutter open as he looked up at you.

"Cat ears," he deadpanned, doubt lacing his words. "You think my hair looks like cat ears."

"Kitty ears," you clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "And you didn't answer my question, which means you absolutely do it on purpose."

"No-" Logan started, tone exasperated. But, unfortunately for him, he was already in too deep.

"Nope, sorry-" you laughed, sitting down behind him to wrap your arms around his bare chest, brushing through the downy hair there. "You're my little kitty now."

"Jesus Christ-" he groaned, rolling his eyes as you kissed his cheek. You made to kiss the corner of his lips next, but he turned his head ever so slightly, trying his best to quell the smile that was spreading. He'd just wanted you to pay attention as he insisted:

"I'm not a fucking cat."

"Why not?" you teased, kissing just under his ear with a little smile. "You've got the ears..."

You snaked a hand up to card through his hair again - making sure to rake your blunt nails along his scalp like you knew he loved. And, despite his dismissive tone, you caught his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parting ever so slightly.

"The claws..." you teased, punctuating each word with a new open-mouthed kiss to his neck - the last dotted with a touch of teeth that issued a sweet rumble from low in his throat.

"The fur-" your free hand slid down his chest - down the dips and curves of his defined abs, to tangle in the thicker hair that disappeared below the waistline of his jeans.

"And, I know how to make you purr," you chuckled, fingers dancing at the edge of his belt as your other hand weaved through one of those silly little kitty ears.

Logan wasn't immune to the way you touched him - when he laughed at your ridiculous comments, it was a bit breathless, even if he sounded absolutely exhausted with your antics.

"I have to get dressed," he insisted, his hand drawing over your own where you'd just started to wiggle your fingers under the tight denim. "And you're being ridiculous."

"Hmm," you hummed, nipping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The muscles there jumped, tensed, then relaxed - and where he'd been grasping at your hand, your fingers briefly intertwined.

"If I remember correctly..." you pondered, nuzzling against his neck. "Kitties don't wear clothes."

"Oh, come on-" he groaned, laughing as he leaned back against your chest, his head pillowed on your shoulder. You grinned down at him. "How long are you gonna keep this shit up?"

"Until you're sick of it," you promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. "Or, you take your pants off."

"We both know you'll keep saying it even if I take my pants off," he countered, his hold on your hand the only thing preventing you from inching your way into his pants.

"Touché. But -" you bargained. "I'd be distracted."

He laughed, loud and full, and your smile grew even more. That - that's what you really liked. When you could finally get some honest joy out of him. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, even if it was brief. His hand squeezed over yours - soft, possessive, loving. That made your heart flutter even more than the thought of getting him undressed.

But he was right - you were never going to let him live this down.

[ridingthatd]

₊˚₊‧⁺˖ ITADORI AND HIS OLDER BROTHER

₊˚₊‧⁺˖ itadorixfem!reader, sukunaxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, fucking him and his brother, choso is fucked up, stalking

itadori was such a puppy coded type of boyfriend, he was such a sweetheart, he was the type of boyfriend who would pick you up playfully and spin you around just to earn a giggle from you in return, he's the type to insist to take a shower with you, he had a rule that both of you should always bath together- whenever you plan to shower, yuji is already taking his shirt off, revealing his chest covered tattoos, getting ready to join you. he's the type to cuddle you all day whenever you had period cramps-

but he was also the type to fuck you through it, insisting that filling you with his warm cum would make you feel better, insisting that him sucking on your sore boobs would relief the pain, insisting that him licking your blood-soak pussy would make you both feel good- he wasn't lying, a thing that always set you off that yuji acted differently in sex, whenever he would fuck you, it wasn't a sweet love making type, it was the type that would almost make you pass out from being to stuffed with his monster of a cock, that would have you drooling, crossed eyed, out of your mind, that would leave bruises-marks on your body the next morning.

itadori was the type to love you with all his heart, to do anything for the people he loves, the people he care about, and the only people he cared about was you-

and his older brother choso, he looked nothing like your boyfriend- while your boyfriend held such a nice, approachable era around him, his brother was quite the opposite.

his whole era screamed not approachable, a cold glare was always painted on his face, he had a long dark hair that he would usually throw in a bun, he was tall a bit taller than yuji was, and of course he had tattoos, their gang tattoos- yea your boyfriend was in a gang, to be honest you already knew quite awhile before yuji decided to tell you, it was because your boyfriend always had difficulties in lying he made it so obvious that you weren't surprised once he told you.

both of them had the same exact tattoos, but choso had one tattoo itadori didn't have- it was the tattoo on his face, a straight line painted on his nose.

choso have always wanted you- more like him and his little brother have always wanted you. they been stalking you for a year, ever since they saw you in the club where they had a gang meeting, you wouldn't leave their mind, so they stalked you, they both were fucked up in head, loving the feeling of watching you, your every step, everything you do without you knowing, loving the feeling of watching you moan, and whine in the shower as you use your little fingers to get off.

choso insisted that his little brother should get with you first, claim you first, before anyone else gets to do that before them- he knows he wouldn't let that happen, he would shred whoever dare to lay as much as a finger on you expect him and itadori.

choso sit on the guests bed, he was in the apartment of his little brother, staying in for a little, he always do his causal visits. loving the way you try so hard to hide your attraction to him, staring at him with your fuck me eyes, so tempting.

what would it feel like? to have your warm, wet pussy clutch around him, have the tip of his dick catch at the tight entrance and not let him go, demanding him right back in until he’s sheathed balls deep, his throbbing shaft engulfed and secure and feeling so good. and the day has finally come-

tears and hick ups falls from your lips, as your boyfriends brother, tease you, not letting you cum for the 3rd time. drool leaves your lips connecting your tongue to itadoris tongue as he pulls back, after he spat inside of your mouth, that was half opened the whole time not being able to stop your whines.

"aw look at her, such a pretty little baby, you wanna cum on my brothers tongue? you wanna squirt on his face?" yuji darkly speak out, as he harhsly twist your nipples between his thumb and index finger, rolling it.

you glance down between your thighs to see choso already hungrily staring at you, groaning and slurping on your pussy as if he's feasting on his prey, his huge thick fingers roughly going in-out of your cunt making loud wet noises.

"cum" this is all choso needed to say before you arch your back, your thighs shake, and clear liquid comes out squirting, gushing his whole face with it, choso opens his mouth and let it land directly in his mouth as if he's drinking from a fountain of a goddess. yuji couldn't help but groan at the sight, mouth watering wanting to taste your juice too.

as you limblessly lay down, not having the energy to move a muscle after all the teasing, your boyfriend pick you up and make you lay down on his chest, as he coo at you, showering your face with kisses- you were about to relax into his embrace but you feel his huge cock, rub on your pussy and make it's way inside of you- you whimper.

"shhh it's okay, it's okay leme keep my cock warm and good inside of your pretty little pussy yea?" itadori whispers next your ear, sucking on the tender spot on your neck, you feel chosos huge hands grab your ass and roughly lift you and slam you down his brothers cock, you gasp- he didn't leave any room for you to breath as he keep repeating the process, shoving you up-down, as he lean in, his chest on your back.

"you like that? is my little brothers cock filling you good?" he whispers next to your right ear, trailing his nose down your neck, as yuji suck on your bouncing nipples- clearly to lost in your pussy to keep on what his brother is doing.

you stiffen once you feel a cold metal on your asshole, not quite sure what it is, you don't realize what it is till you feel the warm, twitching cock of choso- it was a piercing, choso had a piercing on his cock. he slowly spread your cheeks, and circle your hole with his cock, before he gently start making his way in, tearing through your ass.

"fuck she got even more tighter fuck fuck fuck" you glance down at your boyfriend he was rocking his hips up your pussy, fucked out his mind, this sight of him was such a turn on that you lean down to suck on his lips, while making clear access for choso to shove his entire cock in.

you choke not being able to breath, " to- to much to much to much" you cry out crawling your nails on yuji chest trying to escape his brothers cock that teared into your ass. choso laughs darkly- it was the first time you heared him laughing before he grabs your hips and shoved you towards him.

"you can't run little pet, now you're finally mine i won't ever let you go" he roughly grabs your hair and slams into you, ignoring your cry out, itadori grabs your chin, leading your lips to his, as he keeps humping up your pussy.

you were so filled that you think both of their cocks might come out your nose, your mind was fuggy to much pleasure on your body, all you could think about was their massive cocks, thoughts only circling around dick, dick, dick, dick.

"we going to cum inside of both of yours holes baby, fill you in so so so so good" itadori whine, as he spills his warm white liquid inside of you- you can feel his thighs shaking, eyes crossed so fucked out. just like you were.

"now it's my turn" choso groans out before he fills your tight ass, not stopping till every single drop was inside of you. you soon follow him squirting on yujis cock helpsly being sandwiched by both of them.

"round 2?" itadori grins.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ end ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ

[lixiesfreckless]

Breathless | h. j.

➸ synopsis: Was it dumb? Yes. But when has that ever stopped you and Jisung?

➸ starring: han jisung x female reader

➸ word count: 2.5k

➸ general content: best friend!jisung, accidental Friends With Benefits reference, both characters are dorks, jisung is kind of a menace(uncharacteristically good with women), smut

➸ warnings: sexual content, swearing, fingering, protected sex, very tame bondage

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: watched FWB today and was gagged when the literal opening line of this fic was used in the movie in the exact same context. it came out in 2011! how does that even happen—anyways enjoy this old fic since it reminded me of it lolllll

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! Feel That - Junny

“What the hell are we doing,” he giggled into your mouth, peeling off your outer layer as he pushed you into the comforter. Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his flannel, desperately trying to get rid of the unnecessary fabric between you two.

“I don’t know, but I kinda like it.”

It had all happened so fast; one moment you and Jisung were lazily watching whatever talk show that the tv program was playing and the next, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

This was probably the most reckless decision you two had decided to make since you became friends in middle school. Why on earth would best friends be trying to undress each other in the late hours of the night?

“Wait.” You pushed him away slightly and let go of his shirt. “Is Hyunjin coming home anytime soon?”

“No.” Jisung chuckled, lifting the edges of your band tee. “Him and Seungmin are on Jeju Island, they won't be back until next week.” You nodded, raising your arms for him to take off the shirt before pulling his neck towards you again, resuming your heated kiss.

The rest of his buttons came undone quickly, your hands desperate to feel his burning skin under their fingertips. He leaned back to take the fabric off, chucking it to a random corner of his room, before freezing at the feeling of your hands tracing his abs.

“When did you get built Ji?” You whispered, staring at the subtle definition in his skin. A light scoff left his lips before he rolled his eyes, leaning forward to cage you with his toned arms.

“I’ve always been this way baby.” He raised an eyebrow, eyes trailing all over your exposed skin.

“Are you trying to be sexy?”

“Is it working?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, him attaching his lips to yours immediately and letting his hands roam your skin.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way his fingers traced foreign trails up to your jawline. Touching you like this wasn’t something you had previously wished he did, but now you felt like you should have been doing this all along. His skin felt so warm on top of yours, your fingers pressing around the back of his neck to gain leverage into the kiss as he groaned in contentment.

Your bra came undone rather quickly, and you’re reminded that Jisung is somehow very experienced, a thought that made you visibly shudder under his fingertips.

“Wait,” you broke the kiss, and he took this opportunity to kiss your jawline, each press leaving you more and more desperate for his touch. “I don’t really know any of your likes or dislikes…in bed I mean.”

His lips hovered over your neck for a moment, as if he were trying to decide what he should and shouldn’t tell you.

“I like hair pulling and scratching,” he answered, lips pressing under your ear. “And don’t call me anything weird.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you nearly moaned, trying not to lose your mind over how his thumbs were dipping under the waistband of your jeans and massaging your hip bones just right.

“And you?”

You fell silent, face blooming red as you remembered what turned you on the most. And he noticed quickly, stopping his leisurely painting session on your neck at your reluctance.

“Hey, this is a two way street you know.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes, seemingly ignoring the beet red tone covering your cheeks. “I’d feel horrible if I overstepped-”

“...bondage.”

“W-what?”

“I have a bondage kink-”

“I know what you said,” he laughed, leaning off of you to rest on his heels. “I’m just shocked that sweet little y/n likes being tied up-”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, looking away from the topless brat.

“If you insist.”

His leather belt came off next, nearly making you scream in both excitement and horror from his newfound knowledge about you. But he simply set it aside, climbing back over you and dipping back into your neck.

You instinctively let out a sigh as his lips went back to caressing your skin, his hands now smoothing their way up your waist as well as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“Hickeys?” He asked, though positive that you wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing so.

“Please.”

The boy wasted no time in landing one right at the curve of your breast, lips working hard to redden the skin underneath them to get the color he wanted. Your hands rushed to his head, holding him tight against you with tufts of his ash colored hair between your fingers.

He let himself relish the sensation of you tugging on his roots for a brief moment, humming against your skin before he stopped sucking, reaching for the belt that he left beside you.

You could feel your skin tingle as he removed your hands from his hair, holding them in one hand as he wrapped them with his belt with the other, before expertly tying them with the leather band. He then raised your arms so they were above your head on the pillows, leaving your torso completely at his mercy.

“Can you keep those there for me baby?” His voice had a sultry kind of quality to it; one that you couldn’t find in yourself to resist as you nodded breathlessly.

He then went back to the task at hand, licking and biting and sucking everywhere on your upper torso, making sure to leave enough marks for you to not think that what was happening was just a fever dream. And he made sure to revisit your lips every so often, swallowing all of your little moans every time he thought you’d earned it.

Working his way down, he tugged the rest of your bra off, letting it drop to the floor and kissing around your left nipple while flicking his thumb over the right. You gasped, immediately pulling on the belt restraint around your wrists.

“Sensitive, are we?” He smirked, and you’d sworn that if it were anyone else, you’d choke the hell out of them.

But this isn’t just anyone. This is Han Jisung, and guessing from the surprises this night had already brought, he’d probably like that.

So you settled for a moaned yes in response, and what a good decision that was; not even a second after he had his lips wrapped tight around your nipple while letting his fingers play with the other. Your back arched prettily off the comforter, pushing your chest further into his grasp as he chuckled against your skin.

Thighs pressing together as to provide yourself some friction, a senseless string of pleads left your mouth, begging Jisung to please get on with it because it felt like your body would burst into flames if he kept going. But he didn’t stop, no; the hand that was pulling against your nipple dipped lower to find the button on your jeans, a small indication that he did intend on going further tonight.

Even though you were already over the moon with what had happened already.

Whether he was being intentionally slow or it was just difficult to undo your jeans with one hand, you did not know; but he finally worked the button free, quickly pulling the zipper down afterwards to allow room for his hand that would need to fit inside momentarily.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here,'' he mumbled, smoothing his hand from your abdomen to the top of your underwear, pausing slightly to check for any hesitance before pressing on.

“Oh, god…already?” Your face couldn’t possibly have gotten any redder as he ran a lone finger along your slit, catching the wetness that pooled there immediately. “We’re just getting started-”

“Then hurry up, Ji,” you whined, clenching your thighs to get some friction.

He smiled, suddenly aware of his weak spot for your begging before finally adding friction to the place where you wanted it most.

This wasn’t his first time pleasuring a woman– you were aware of that much –but it took him a minute to figure out what you liked and where you were the most sensitive, essentially playing with you until you made the right sounds. Once he started getting it right however, it finally dawned on you just how much trouble you were in, your chest heaving and toes curling at his ministrations.

It wasn’t long before he changed the game, bringing two fingers inside of you and curling them just so, and an obscenely loud moan left your mouth to his delight.

“Good?” He questioned, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t moving too fast for you as he leisurely pulled his fingers out.

“G-Good, don’t stop-” You were cut off by another moan, and decided to give up on speech altogether as you felt another bubble up in your chest.

He took it a step further, lightly leaving pecks across your bruised chest, and then a step further, purposefully pressing his palm against your clit every time he delved into your core.

Not only was it good, it was also unfair and even embarrassing, considering how quickly he was bringing you to your peak.

He had you twisting, clenching, whimpering and writhing under his grasp within three minutes, and even if he stopped it wouldn’t prevent the white wave of euphoria that was approaching.

“God, Jisung, I-”

You broke under him right then and there, shaking and gasping as your release overtook you in blissful waves of pleasure. Jisung helped you through it, pressing his fingers into you until your moans turned into whimpers and your shaking into trembling.

It took you forever to completely come down from your high, but Jisung used this time to get himself ready, leaning back on his heels and unzipping his own pants as you tried to catch your breath. You could almost feel him smiling at you before you opened your eyes, chest still heaving as he flashed that shit-eating grin in your direction.

“That good, huh?” he chuckled, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough so his length could spring free.

“Oh fuck me.”

“One step ahead of you.”

A cold shiver ran up your spine as you finally registered what he was doing, your core clenching on nothing despite it being only a minute since you came. In any other situation, you would have snapped back at him for being so snarky, but with the hollow feeling in your core being somewhat uncomfortable, you figured that keeping your mouth shut would have him filling you faster.

One condom later and you were seconds away from the anticipated moment, watching through lidded eyes as he carefully brought your wrists down to untie them. Your pants were next to come off, and his soon followed, but only halfway; you assumed that your impatience had finally caught up to him.

And you couldn’t even blame him—he looked painfully hard after the show you had put on for him.

He pumped himself only three times before leaning over you again, and then a strange look crossed his face as he froze.

“Wait, I’m okay to do this right?” He asked, looking between your eyes and where your hips met. “I just realized I never asked-”

“Han Jisung if you won’t I will,” you pleaded, urging him on, and he gave you a crooked smile before drawing in a deep breath.

He pushed inside of you slowly, ignoring every painful urge he had to quickly bottom out inside you and alleviate the burning need in his lower abdomen. A string of hushed curses left your mouth; this wasn’t your first time, but it might as well have been with how much the feeling of being stretched out was overwhelming you.

He made it to the end with a small whimper, dipping his head forward into your shoulder as he tried to steady himself.

“Can I move?”

“Knock yourself out,” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut from the sensation of adjusting to him fully.

He started out slow, each drag of his cock against your walls eliciting a low whine from you as he rolled his hips against yours. One hand pinned your hips to the bed, while the other held him up next to your head, giving him the option to lean down and capture the skin of your neck between his teeth whenever he pleased.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he groaned, grinding deeper into your core with every thrust. At his words, you could only pull his face down to meet yours, silencing him with a kiss in hopes that he would talk less. Otherwise, his pleasure-ridden voice alone would bring you to climax.

He happily kissed away all of your moans and whimpers, sucking on your bottom lip until you both were panting too much to keep a cohesive liplock.

His hips were starting to slam against yours now, that erotic sound of skin on skin slapping finally reverberating around the room and joining the chorus of your moans. Your toes curled, body barely able to process the pleasure building inside of you as moans helplessly tumbled out of your lips.

“Tell me what I h-have to do to get you there,” he choked out, worried that he might not get you to finish again in time.

“Fingers- ah, please-”

He knew exactly what you meant, moving the hand that was on your hip to your clit and gently rubbing it in the way that had you moaning his name before.

His breaths became heavy and his thrusts started to lose their rhythm; both things that you were sure were signs of his release drawing near, but you could barely focus on that when yours was practically hurtling toward you, threatening to spill you over the edge before he broke.

“Jisung, I c-can’t—” Words finally left you as you felt your whole body start to tense up, and Jisung let out a loud moan from the sudden tightening around his length.

“Come. Come all over me baby,” He whispered breathlessly, using the last bit of his stamina to thrust harder into you, until you couldn’t take it for another second.

You came undone for the second time that night, shaking and moaning beneath him as he pounded into you twice more, before he caved as well, just barely holding himself off of you as he emptied his load into the condom. Careful to not wait until he was too soft, he pulled his length out of you, subsequently falling onto the sheets next to you as he caught his breath.

“So I take it we’re not just friends?” He mused, a cheeky grin poking out from under the sheets. You slapped his back playfully, rolling away from him before he caught your hips with his hands, pulling you flush against his warm chest.

“Shut the fuck up.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

Hiiiii couldn’t help but see you do requests, could you do something where after a hard race reader placed on the podium but felt sick and Max catches her when she collapsed after getting out of the car? Maybe with the words "I can't... my legs... everything's tingling..." and him being super worried. Basically a little angsty with a fluffy end where he’s checking on her, can be established relationship or not.

OH ANON. this was so fun.

Enjoy!

Heatstroke In which, as it turns out, Max wasn't just 'Maxplaining' the difficulty of Singapore to you after all

Pairing: Max Verstappen X FerarriDriver!Reader Warnings: fainting, getting sick/weak, max being a knight in shining armor. Word count: 2.2k Masterlist

Max tried to warn you. Lando tried to warn you. Checo and Lewis had tried to warn you. Hell, the entire fucking grid had tried to warn you that Singapore was a different beast. You had thought they were just coddling you and being over dramatic, as the boys tended to be with you. It was a hazard of being the only woman on the grid, which frankly, drove you bat shit crazy because you had earned your way into the red Ferrari seat next to Charles on your own, thank you very much. You didn’t need to be coddled and you didn’t need to be warned off anything. 

But they were right. 

Singapore was a different beast. 

The heat during the day was oppressive but at night? There wasn’t any relief once the intense sun went down either. You were from Michigan though, that midwestern state being famous for its hot and sticky summers so you had thought you’d been prepared.

As you claimed into your sleek red car, lining up P3 behind Max and Lando though you knew you were in trouble before the green flag waved. The thing about sweating in the humidity like this is that there’s no where for the moisture on your skin to go, the air already too heavy so that slick sweat sticks to you, making you even hotter than before. 

“Fuck, this is going to be brutal.” You mumble, hoping that the braid you tied your hair in would stay for the entirety of the race. Suddenly, shaving your hair into a pixie cut like Fred had been suggesting (mostly jokingly) for weeks seemed like a good idea.  

The formation lap is fine. 

The first ten laps are fine, if not a little squirrely thanks to your car being wildly loose. 

The first fifteen laps are fine, if not a bit hot. 

But on lap 23? All hell breaks loose. 

First, your hydration system fails and you’re completely unable to get any water through the tiny straw that you usually flip into your mouth on the straightaway, just like Danny taught you. You’re sweating up a storm with no way to replenish those valuable electrolytes. 

Then, you’re so busy focusing on the fact that you’d give your first born child for a sip of water you nearly slam into the same exact wall that took George out on the last lap of last year’s race. You yank the steering wheel around so hard, you feel something in your wrist pop. The searing pain causes you to over correct and you nearly drive right into your own fucking teammate. 

“Fuck. Tell Charlie I’m sorry.” You groan over the radio, telling your engineer to pass on the message to Charles. 

“Focus on your race.” Your engineer tells you, voice obviously strained just as yours is. “Charles is fine.” 

Well, I sure as fuck am not fine. You think as you fight the car down towards the starting line. 

On lap 45, you’re granted a reprieve when a Sauber goes into the wall, bringing out a yellow flag. The leaders all duck into the pits, including yourself. There’s nothing anyone can do about your water situation and at this point, your instincts have kicked it. 

Max was right and you knew it. Singapore was hell. He had tried to tell you last night, as you had been snuggled up in bed with him, a ritual that you both had become dependent on this season. It seemed cliche, you falling for one of your rivals. You hated it but there was no denying that there was a magnetic chemistry between the two of you that had started the moment you had met last year while you were still driving in F2. 

You had resisted his charm for a while but things had taken a turn the night it was announced you’d be driving for Ferrari alongside Charles. Several of the drivers that lived in Monaco full time insisted on taking you to Jimmy Z’s to celebrate and who were you to say no to a bunch of handsome men paying for your drinks? 

The night ended just as you might expect it: Max drunkenly confessing his year-long crush on you and you drunkenly kissing him in a dark alleyway as you waited for your Uber. What had started off as a drunken confession and your reckless response that wasn’t supposed to mean anything had turned into one of the greatest things that has ever happened to you. Max and you? The pair of you were endgame. 

But none of that mattered now. Not here, in the raging heat and humidity of Singapore. You knew that Max was going to give you shit for not being better prepared the moment you got out of the car. You knew you were in for an ‘I told you so’ lecture on the plane ride back in the morning. You knew Max was right and you had been stupid to underestimate the power this track had over drivers. 

Looking back on your first race in Singapore years later, you don’t quite know how you managed to finish those last laps. Pure determination and stubbornness, Max would insist later on that night. But before you’re able to fully wrap your head around how dangerous of a situation you’d gotten yourself into, the checkered flag is waving and you’ve crossed the finish line in P3, right behind Lando and Max. 

Your third podium of the year. If you had been more coherent, you probably would have been elated. But all you could think about as you pulled your car into parc ferme, right behind that little cardboard 3 sign, was the ice bath you knew was waiting for you somewhere in the paddock. 

Your red racing suit is soaked through and through, you can feel it before you even get out of the car. It takes a mammoth effort to pull the steering wheel out of it’s dock and for a moment, you worry you’re so weak you can’t even do that. In front of you, you see Lando pop out of the car in the P1 spot, elated to have won with a healthy margin of over 20 seconds for the second time that season. 

Max is out of the car too, albeit a bit slower than Lando. There’s a distant buzzing in your ear that sounds eerily like your engineer’s voice asking if you’re okay. But you’re completely unable to focus on anything beyond the tingling sensation in your legs. This wasn’t something you’d ever felt inside a race car in all your years of driving. Everything stung, like a million little fire ants were making a meal out of your flesh. It took every ounce of strength, of which you didn’t have much, to hoist yourself up out of the car. 

Your head swims the moment you stand up straight, and you feel your legs collapse under you. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Max calling your name but you can’t look up, your helmet suddenly feeling like it weighs 300 pounds. 

Crouching in your car, you desperately try to pull yourself together before anyone notices you’re struggling. You didn’t want to give the media the satisfaction of pulling another ‘look, another woman who thinks she can hang with the rest of the F1 drivers.’ Like they’ve been attempting to do all season. 

Your eyes are closed but you still hear the faint call of Max’s voice somewhere off in the distance. The entire world is reduced down to a singular pin prick of light while you fight to stay conscious, the heat and humidity wrapping their ugly little fingers tightly around your throat. 

Just as you’re about to surrender to the warm quiet of the darkness that seems to be calling out to you, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you out of the car like you weigh less than a bag of potatoes. You go limp in the arms of whoever has come to your rescue, collapsing under the strain of what you just put your body though. 

“Baby, please. Look at me.” 

Somehow, your helmet has been removed and you find yourself blinking up at Max. 

When did he get here? You wonder idly, not realizing it was him that pulled you out of the car. 

Max had gone practically feral when GP told him that you’d gone nearly 3/4 of the race without water. He knew how brutal this race was, and the humidity was unusually high tonight. He had gotten out of the car fairly quickly but had panicked when he saw your helmet tipped forward, resting on the halo device and you not moving. 

You lift your head, still wondering where your helmet was and instantly found yourself staring straight into the baby blue eyes of your boyfriend. “Maxie?” You croak, throat feeling like you just dined on a three course meal of sand and gravel. 

“Hey…” He coos, bringing you closer to his chest. “There’s my girl. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He rubs soothing circles over your back, not caring that the press is having a field day with this. 

“I can’t…” You stutter, struggling to make the words in your head sound coherent when your mouth tries to form them. “My legs…everything is tingling.” 

If you had been a bit more coherent, you would’ve seen the look of absolute panic cross Max’s face. He frantically looks around as he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other cradling your back against his chest. He knew you were going to absolutely murder him when you come around and see the pictures. You hated being coddled and hated showing affection on the grid even more. You and Max weren’t really hiding the fact that you were together, most fans knew and it was common knowledge around the paddock but the causal fan might be surprised to find out the lore between the two of you. So this outright show of concern, affection, and panic over the state of you that Max was showing right now? It was absolutely not a common occurrence 

“Interviews are going to have to wait.” Max barks at Jensen, this weeks post-race presenter. “She needs medical attention.” 

Jensen simply nods, allowing you to pass. 

Fred and Charles intercept you half way to the tent, insisting that getting you in the ice baths will be the thing to help you the most. Max, nearly delirious with worry because while your eyes were open and you were somewhat alert, follows their instructions and takes you back behind the garage area where the ice baths had been set up. 

It’s all you can do to stand upright as Max unzips your race suit. It’s so heavy with your sweat that it practically peels off of you with no effort, gravity doing the work for Max. And then your left in just your fireproofs. If you hadn’t been in the middle of the paddock with thousands of people and cameras around, Max would have stripped you down to just your underwear, but that wasn’t an option. 

WIth Max and Charles’ help, you’re able to hoist yourself into the waiting ice bath. The shock of the frigid water jolts some awareness back into you the moment your body is submerged in the glacial water. 

“Holy fuck.” You grit out, eyes closing in pain. 

“I know…I know, schatje. But it’ll get you feeling better so much quicker than anything else. 

You nod, still not fully aware of how you got here but thankful for Max’s steadying presence beside you. He’s crouched down so he’s eye level with you as you ball yourself up to get as much heated skin under the cold water and the worry etched all over his face is enough to steal your breath. 

“Max. Holy fuck. That was…you weren’t just Maxsplaining to me last night, were you?” 

A chuckle finds its way out of his lips, despite the state of panic Max is in. “No, I was not just ‘Maxsplaining’ anything last night, silly girl.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’ve got your fire back, I see. I think you’ll live.” Max leans in to press a kiss to the crown of your head before dropping another kiss on your temple, then your cheek, and finally his lips find their home on yours. Right where they belong. It’s not a lingering kiss, or a passionate one. No. This kiss is filled with gratitude and relief and sheer dumb realization of how much this man loves you. 

Your eyes are open more now, a few minutes in the ice bath doing your heat stroke symptoms good. It takes you a few moments to really grasp the severity of what just happened. How close you came to passing out mid-race. How it was Max that got you out of that car and was at your side before anyone else. 

All around you, the paddock is bustling to life. The scene Max created by hauling you over to Ferrari’s garages has somewhat dissipated. Only a few onlookers are stopped still, but your team remains solidly around you, faces a mask of concern. But the only person you see is Max. 

“Thank you, baby.” You murmur when he leans in for another kiss. 

“Anything for you, schatje.” He rasps, emotion clawing at his throat. “Anything.” 

[prythianpages]

But the Worms | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Azriel is woken up by your daughter in the middle of the night to answer some of her questions.

warnings: fluff, dad Az

word count: 943

a/n: Just a short little fic that can be read as a stand alone. This was inspired by a scene from Bob's Burgers lol.

Rain pattered against the window steadily, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. Every so often, the sky would flare with a jagged streak of lightning, briefly illuminating the room with a cold, blue light before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was a familiar, comforting backdrop to Azriel’s slumber.

But his shadows, ever vigilant, stirred with a whisper of unease.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open, drawn by the shift in his shadows. That’s when he heard them. The faint, hurried sound of small footsteps. His shadows fluttered toward the door as they sensed the hesitant shuffle against the wooden floor.

He didn't need his shadows to tell him who was on the other side. Had it been his first born, he'd never hear the steps as she loved to sneak up on him,. The door would've been open abruptly with no hesitation whatsoever but it's been years since she last had a nightmare. A nightmare she didn't welcome, at least.

That was not the case tonight. It was his second-born. Sweet little Alora, who, true to her name, should be dreaming of unicorns and rainbows as she loved to recount to him every morning, rather than being awake.

His gaze flickered to you. While Azriel was a light sleeper, you were a heavy sleeper and truth be told, you were sound asleep, back turned toward him. A shadow tenderly caressed your back before he shifted his attention back to the door. He was already sitting up in the bed, blinking away the sleep or at least trying when the door opened quietly, muted with the help of his shadows.

Alora stood at the door. Her hair, the exact shade of yours, was disheveled, the bangs she cut herself last week splayed over her forehead awkwardly. A rite of passage, you had called it, reminding him that your first born had done the same.

Her eyes, the exact shade of his, were wide and glistening, and there was a pout on her face.

Azriel’s chest tightened at the sight, wanting nothing more than to soothe whatever troubled her, despite his fatigue. He extended his arms out, and Alora ran right into them, her small frame immediately enveloped by his.

Cradling her to his chest, he pushed her bangs back and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“No. I haven’t slept at all,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Azriel frowned, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and his eyes were begging for sleep, lulled by the rain falling outside. “Is it the storm?”

Alora placed her hands on his chest, pushing herself up slightly. She spared a glance to your sleeping form before leaning in closer to her father, careful not to wake you with her voice. Though, Azriel doubted you'd wake at all.

Her hazel eyes, so innocent and pure, stared into his own. “Do you think worms have dreams too?”

Azriel's heart softened further. Her worries were so small, so wonderfully trivial compared to the burdens he had carried as a child.

“I’m sure they dream,” he murmured, gently pulling his daughter's head back to his chest, wishing for her to always have such simple worries. He also hoped she’d be content with his answer and finally drift off to sleep herself.

“But what do they dream?”

“The same things you do.” He replied, trying to stifle a yawn. He snuck a glance at you, still oblivious to your daughter’s insatiable curiosity.

“Do they get nightmares too?” 

Azriel fought back his groan. He loved his daughters deeply and strongly. He would go through all ends of the world for them. Any other time, he would entertain this conversation fully, but it was late, and Alora should be fast asleep like her sister. 

“Mel says worms come out when it storms so that we don’t hear their cries.”

Speak of the little devil herself. Mel was sure to get an earful from him. Tomorrow morning, or rather, in a couple of hours. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to muster the energy to explain, his body aching for rest.

Azriel could hear the thoughts swirling through her mind as she continued. “Why would they cry? Is it because of the bad dreams?”

“Don’t listen to your sister,” he said gently, running a hand through Alora’s tousled hair.

“But you told me to listen to her yesterday morning.”

“I did,” Azriel replied with a slight grimace, regretting that decision immensely at this very moment. Granted, he had said that after Mel told Lor to stop riling up Sprinkles, her pet scorpion. “But that’s different.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and weariness.

“But the worms–”

“The worms don’t have nightmares and they come out during storms because they love the rain. Now, go to sleep. Please.”

Alora let out a small gasp, her hand losing its tension against his chest. “You promise?”

“Yes.” Azriel replied quickly, not certain what exactly he was promising. He'd deal with it later.

“Okay.”

When he finally felt her body relax in his arms, he let out a breath of relief. He held her tighter in his arms, shifting them to face in your direction before settling Alora between you both. He didn’t have the energy to take her back to her bed.

He gladly gave in to the heaviness of his eyelids, his eyes closing shut and ready to embrace sleep under the comfort of the rain once more--

"Daddy?"

He didn't bother opening his eyes. "Yes?"

"I love you."

His lips tugged up into a smile. "I love you too, my sweets."

Alora snuggled closer to him, tiny hands grasping onto his larger one and placing it over her face. She always found comfort in his touch, despite the scars that marred his hands. It was something that never failed to make his chest swell with warmth. Along with the way both his daughters always looked up to him, eyes full of affection and admiration.

His thumb caressed her cheek, soothing her as his shadows settled back into their corner of the room, curling into the bed Alora had gotten them for Solstice this year.

For centuries, his shadows had slept among other shadows, usually underneath the bed or in the corners of rooms. But Alora had felt bad for them one night, and when shopping for Solstice this year, she had asked you to take her to the pet store and picked out the softest bed for Azriel’s shadows.

Though his shadows had never complained or shown any interest in comfier sleeping habits, they had vibrated with excitement at the sight of the gift. Now, they slept there every night, happy and content, snuggling amongst one another and curling into a ball.

As his thoughts began to blur and drift, the world around him softened, the edges of his awareness becoming fuzzy and indistinct. Now that he knew your daughter was okay and her curiosity satiated, he could go back to sleep.

His breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the gentle rise and fall of your own breath. Just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep–

“Daddy?”

He could barely manage a grunt in response.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

Oh, this was definitely your daughter.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "