#they might have just as well have been closed

[classyrbf]

classmate!gojo part 2!

classmate!gojo who has been losing his mind trying to figure out who his mystery girl is. He’d assume it’s someone he knows, someone he hangs around, maybe one of the well known girls in his class. But looking at them, he didn’t really get that vibe. Sure they’d flirt with him, always hang around him, and that would be way too obvious. Despite being a part time investigator along with being a college student, that hasn’t stopped gojo from chatting with you. Still, everyday, you and him are sending pictures and videos back and forth and texting.

gojo: just tell me who you are, baby, promise I won’t bite ;)

you: where’s the fun in that, hm?

you laugh at knowing he’s frustrated. You see it on his face everyday when he walks into class, looking at his phone constantly and his eyes scanning the room. He does it in the cafe area as well when hanging with his friend, looking to see if any girl might fit his description of you. But of course, he never looks your way, completely disregarding your existence until late in the night when you��re both horny for each other. You can’t help but send him a video of you fucking your self with your dildo, your phone set up perfectly where you can’t see your face, but can see everything else. And you fuck yourself until you squirt all over your bedroom floor, legs shaking as you imagine it’s his cock.

poor gojo is just losing his mind behind the screen, listening to your moans and watching you squirt over and over, but all he’s thinking about is your face. Doesn’t stop him from getting off though. Of course he’s jerking his cock. Roughly. All the frustration is really getting to him. “Fuck! You’re really fucking teasing me, baby. You know that?”

the cycle continues for several days, until one day he misses class. What’s the problem in that? It’s the fact he needed the notes from that lecture and of course his friends never write them down. So, who did the professor direct him to? You. He’s walking up to you so casually, a bored look on his face as you’re sitting in your seat, palms sweating and internally freaking out. “Don’t mean to bother you, but do you have the notes from the last lecture?” He sighs in annoyance, adjusting his backpack.

“Oh, um…yeah, let me just…” You reach down into your bag and doing so, gojo noticed the color of your nails, his brows furrowing. They looked familiar.

“Nice nails,” he said. You couldn’t be his mystery girl, could you? No, no it was just a coincidence. You’re just some quiet, shy, and nerdy girl who keeps to herself. No way you fit in the description.

You pause for a moment, handing him your notes. “Thanks,” you mutter, quickly standing from your seat.

“Wait, don’t you want these back?” He asked, curious as to why you were in such a rush.

“Keep em, I have a picture of them on my phone.” You grab your bag and hurriedly walk away from him, your heart pounding against your chest. Gojo watches as you disappear from the lecture hall, immediately pulling out his phone to pull up a saved picture of his mystery girl, endlessly scrolling through pictures and videos to find one with your hands.

He stops at a video of you groping your tits, eyes widening when he notices the same color nails and design. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No fucking way.” He shoves his phone in his pocket, quickly following after you, wherever you went. But he doesn’t know that you left home for the day, completely avoiding him.

You can’t believe you got so close to him today, so close you could smell his cologne and hear his voice in person. Just thinking about it had you so horny, so wet. And when he complimented your nails? It meant he was actually checking you out! His eyes were on you! “He talked to me!” You squealed, running to your room, locking your bedroom door and slipping your panties off from under your skirt. “He talked to me…he was looking at me…” You sink your fingers into your already soaked cunt, eyes fluttering shut as you move them faster, pressing against your g-spot.

Gojo stared at his phone, debating whether to text you. He needed to really see if you were his mystery girl. He needed to investigate a little more, meaning he needed to watch your every move before confronting you. “Can’t believe you really might be her,” he sighed, biting down on his bottom lip. “Those tits, that ass, that pussy, all belonging to a sweet little thing like you? Can’t be…” Gojo couldn’t help himself, palming his semi-hard cock through his jeans. “Shit, baby,” he moaned, undoing his jeans, pulling out his cock. His eyes shut, remembering the cute look on your face when he walked up to you, and he could smell your perfume too, and that voice…yeah, he could recognize that voice anywhere. You’re definitely her. “I hope you’re thinking about me too. Fuck that. I know you’re thinking about me,” he breathily chuckles, slowly fisting his cock to your pictures.

“You were so close to me today, mmmph—fuck!” You rub your clit in circles, watching a video of him jerking off his pretty cock. “Wish you would’ve bent me over and fucked me right there—ah!” You heavily pant, hips twitching. “I need more!” You reach over into your bedside drawer, pulling out your dildo. “Want your cock inside me, Toru,” you moan. “Please say you’re thinking about me too, please!”

You know he knows. He has to. Why else would he compliment your nails? And why hasn’t he texted you yet? You’ve scared him off. Of course he doesn’t want anything to do with you. But you’ll have your fun while it lasts.

I know I left it on a cliffhanger (I’m super evil 😈 )

[hyunjincanraptoo]

hi hi did someone already suggest prompt #4? if not omg i hope you write it! i love your stuff🥹🫶🏻

Hi, baby!! Tysm, I like your writing as well 😚🫶 honestly this was my favorite to write so far (and if someone ask me for a part 2, I might do it... Just saying)

This is from my prompt list. Pick a number and send it to my asks 😊

Warnings: smut

Word count: 1.9k

Alexa, play Are you bored yet? by Wallows

Sharing a hotel room with only one bed

The drive back from the beach trip had been filled with laughter, music, and warm sun, but as the sky darkened, so did the mood. The rain began to pour down, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up. You, along with your friends, had been caught off guard. What was supposed to be a peaceful return turned into an unexpected detour when your brother, Lee Minho, suggested stopping at a nearby motel.

Inside, it was crowded but warm, and everyone seemed eager to get out of the storm, “Five rooms please”. However, when the receptionist handed Minho the keys, there was a slight pause— only three rooms were available. The rest of your friends quickly split into groups, leaving you and Hyunjin alone in the small hallway. Without having much option, you shyly follow him to the bedroom.

You’ve known Hyunjin forever. He and your older brother have been best friends since you were six years old. And of course, you’ve always had a huge crush on him— your one and only crush. But you doubted he ever saw you as anything more than his best friend’s little sister. Hwang Hyunjin, who always had tons of casual girlfriends, the ones you secretly envied, the ones who made you believe he’d never look at you that way.

“Looks like it’s just us,” Hyunjin said, his voice cool and casual, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he threw his bag on the bed. You stood by the door with your heart racing. Hyunjin had always been the cool guy, the one you admired from afar, and now here he was— sharing a room with you. The situation was awkward, but there was an undeniable tension in the air.

“I can sleep on the floor”, you offered, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. But Hyunjin shook his head, his smile playful, “Nah, the bed’s big enough for both of us”. He unbuttoned his jacket slowly, his gaze never leaving you, "Besides, I’m a gentleman, I could never let a lady sleep on the floor". You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you both were in the small space. The way his tank top clung to his muscles, the confident yet teasing way he spoke— it all made your chest tighten with desire.

As you unpacked, Hyunjin casually leaned against the wall, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “So, are you bored yet?”. You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but inside, your mind raced, “I don’t know. I guess we could find something to do” “How about a game?”, he suggested, his smirk growing, "Strip poker?"

Your eyes widened, “W- what?”. You knew the game, of course, but never in a million years had you imagined playing it with him. With Hyunjin, the guy who always made your heart beat faster just by being in the same room. He noticed your hesitation, but it only made his grin widen, “It’s just a game. Don’t worry. We’ll take it slow.” He winked, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You hesitated, your mind racing. On one hand, it was absurd.. On the other hand, it was the perfect opportunity to get closer to him. The rain was still coming down hard, and it wasn’t like you had many options, “Fine”, you agreed, your voice a little breathless, “But you’re going easy on me, right?”. He laughed.as if he was mocking you, “Oh, I definitely won’t go easy on you”

You both sat cross legged on the bed, the tension in the air palpable. The first round was simple, just a few pieces of clothing coming off, a few laughs. But with each card you drew, the tension grew a little more. You could feel his gaze on you, lingering, heated. When you lost a round, he really didn’t make it easy— his fingers brushed your skin as he pulled your shirt over your head, lingering just long enough to make your breath falter.

The game wasn’t about poker anymore— it was about him playing with you. About his eyes, dark and intense, as he watched you with that wicked smile. You lost another round, and your pants were next. You could feel his eyes on you like it was burning your skin.

Finally, you were both in nothing but your underwear. Hyunjin leaned dangerously closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I win. You’re mine now”.

Before you could say a word, his lips captured yours— hot, needy. The kiss was deeper than anything you’d ever felt, his mouth moving along yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. You barely registered when he rolled you beneath him, hands slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, pushing it down your thighs in one single motion. He didn’t rush. His hands moved over your body like he’d waited forever for this, his fingertips exploring every curve, every inch of exposed skin, making you goosebump.

“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”, he murmured against your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, slow and warm, sending heat to your core.“Yes”, you whispered, breath trembling, eyes fluttering shut under his touch, “I’ve wanted you since forever”. His body pressed against yours, firm and warm, and you felt his boner against your thigh— hard, thick, aching. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin, soft moans escaping from your lips as he took one into his mouth, tongue swirling slowly while his hand teased the other.

Then he leaned up, his breath heavy, “Turn around, he whispered, “Hands and knees, baby”.

You obeyed, your heart pounding, face flushed as you shifted to your hands and knees. The air was thick with tension and anticipation as he knelt behind you, large hands gripping your hips firmly. You felt the head of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding through your folds, wet with your arousal. He groaned low at the feeling, resting his forehead on your back for a moment.

The first thrust was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted you to feel every inch of him filling you. You gasped, fingers curling into the sheets. He gave you a moment to adjust before pulling back and thrusting again, this time deeper, harder. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, mixed with your whimpers and his breathy groans.

“Fuck, you feel so good”, he cursed, hips moving faster, rougher. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you to meet his in each thrust. You pushed back against him, wanting more, needing more. His other hand slid around to your core, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your entire body trembling.

You moaned his name, voice breaking, and it only turned him on even more. His rhythm grew faster, the force behind each thrust leaving you breathless, eyes rolling back as the knot in your belly tightened with every stroke. You felt yourself spiraling, his name slipping from your lips like it was the only word you knew. “I’m close”, you gasped, trembling beneath him. “Me too”, he groaned, hitting your walls harder, chasing both your edges.

Your body gave in first— waves of pleasure crashing over you, blinding, pulsing through every nerve. You cried out, hips shaking as he kept moving, chasing his own release. With one final, hard thrust, he came with a deep moan, collapsing over your back, his breath hot against your nape.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing. Hyunjin eventually rolled off you, pulling you close into his arms, his lips brushing against your lips, “You’re perfect”, he whispered. But there was something in his tone, like he was trying to keep the moment a little longer.

“Hyunjin…”, you started, still feeling the heat in your chest, but you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to confess everything, all the feelings that had been bottled up for so long, but the words got stuck in your throat. He looked at you, his expression soft but with a hint of caution, “We’ll keep this a secret. I know Minho. He’s crazy about you. He’ll kill me if he finds out”

You laughed softly, the tension from before dissipating slightly, but there was still something left to say. But maybe it wasn't the moment yet. “Okay”, you whispered back, curling into him as the storm outside raged on, your body still tingling as a side effect of what had just happened.

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[rex-rambles]

➤ SOMETHING FISHY (SMAU + FIC)

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: you dress up as a mermaid for your niece's birthday, and end up rescuing a f1 driver that's convinced you're the real thing

wc: 4.3k

warnings: mentions of a minor injury - photos from pinterest

➤ MASTERLIST

Your niece wasn't your niece by blood, but that didn't matter. You had been there for your best friend through pregnancy, through labour, through the late nights when Ruby was just a newborn, and now that she was four? She was your niece in every sense of the word, which meant what Ruby wanted, Ruby got. 

Even if it was you dressing up as a mermaid for her birthday. You had rented the tail from some costume shop near the beach, set yourself up on some rocks near the shore for them to "discover" you as they stormed across the beach, more of a hunt than a party as you watch them. When they get close enough, you happily push yourself up on the rock, waving at them, and they gasp in unison. 

"It's a mermaid!" One of the younger girls says, quite easily believing in the fantasy of it all, and your best friend helps them up the rocks to sit near you, and instantly, there are little hands everywhere, grabbing the tail, the shells woven into your hair, but Ruby? Ruby is perched right in front of you, beaming with her gap teeth. 

"I told you!" She says, clapping her hands together. "A real live mermaid!" Then, she leans in close to whisper, "I know it's you, auntie." 

"Nonsense," You say, gently splashing some water up at her. "I have no idea who this aunt is you speak of. I am a Mermaid, of the Coral Sea." 

"Coral Sea is up North," Your best friend scolds softly. "I think you mean Pacific?" 

You flick water up at her with a grin. "I travelled a long way to get here. Coral Sea." 

"Are you tired?" One of the little boys asks, now intently trying to braid your hair and failing. 

"No, I made sure to get plenty of rest for your big day! I hear a certain someone is turning five!" Ruby happily shows off her birthday sash as your best friend begins to take some pictures. "I asked some of the other mermaids to join me, but they thought it was just too far." 

"Like Ariel?" Another little one asks, as you gently try to guide her away from ripping one of the fins of your tail off. 

"Well, she lives much farther away! More like...Siren-a?" You pull the fake name out of nowhere, but they all seem to accept it as fact, before returning to their questions. 

It was a precious thing, you think, getting to do this for them. They might not believe in mermaids for much longer, but for an afternoon, you get to be a real, live mermaid, taking pictures and reciting facts about fish and shells you memorized this morning. You get to hand out little mermaid-themed gifts, wave to those wandering by who also happen to stumble across a mermaid. It was a perfect afternoon, you think, until the waves picked up. 

"Oh, my." You say as they creep up on the rock, gently spraying the group with the salty water. "Seems like Poseidon is eager for me to get home!" 

"Aw, but Auntie-" Ruby pauses, sparing a glance to the other girls, "But Mer-Auntie, we don't want you to go!" 

"I'm sure you have snacks waiting for you back home! I hear you got a special cake, made of sea sponges!" They all pause to look at you, and you try to put on your best Little Mermaid impression. "Sponge cake? Isn't that sea sponges?" 

"No, silly! It's just cake." The waves pick up again, but this time, a hand appears at the edge of the rock with it, and the girls scream as they stumble away. 

For a moment you're terrified it's not attached to anything, but there's a person hanging off the edge of the rock, obviously washed in with the waves, and you and your best friend quickly grab him and pull him up onto the rock as he coughs up water. He's breathing, considering he's coughing, but he's clawing at his chest to get his life jacket off, which you quickly help remove to get some pressure off his chest. 

"It's Prince Eric!" Ruby shouts, coming to splash in the water next to the poor man. "Like the story!" 

"That's not Prince Eric, sweetheart." Then, gently from below you,

"Ariel?" 

-

Charles wouldn't call himself a gifted surfer, but he'd say he was alright. Good enough to take on the waves of one of Melbourne's beaches before the race weekend. He wasn't alone, either, an instructor and some friends joining him, and for most of the morning, it was fine, in fact, it was better than any of his previous surfing had gone. 

And then the waves picked up. He hadn't expected it, easily overtaking him and forcing him under with the current, and he had thought he was going to drown until he hit up against a rock and desperately tried to claw his way up it against the force of the tides and waves, board lost somewhere in the water below him. 

Spots began to appear in his vision as he almost broke the surface, and quickly, people pulled him from the water, helping him up onto the rock as he gasped for air, choking up the sea water and probably bits of sea weed. His life preserver felt like a weight against him as he tried to get it off, and luckily, someone from his team seemed to understand what he was trying to do and helped him out of it. 

A small voice screamed something near his ear, and opening his eyes, Charles realized rather quickly that it wasn't anyone on his team who saved him, but a mermaid. 

A real live mermaid. He must've hit his head, he thinks, as he blurry blinks up at the figure, peering over him like that scene in the movie. Your hair is woven with shells, top made from something that looks like seaweed and netting, a blue tail to accentuate it all. He lays there, panting heavily as he tries to blink away the vision, before finally coming to terms with the fact that mermaids are real in Australia, or he's died and is hallucinating a mermaid in heaven. 

"Ariel?" He creakily manages to get out, and you gently wipe water away from his face, hitting something high on his forehead that has him seeing stars as he hisses, reeling back and into the rocks and only jostling himself further. 

"SEE!" The tiny voice continues screeching, "HE'S REAL!" 

He's real? Whoever's child got loose ought to be freaking out at the fact that the mermaid currently tending to him is real. It might be the concussion, or the delirium that comes with seeing mermaids, but he can't help but think you're pretty as he manages to open his eyes again. You look blessed by the water, the kind of sight that Charles thinks would make a good siren. He'd follow you into the water, anyway. "Let's give him some space, girls." Another voice says, and very gently, your hand returns to check out his forehead. 

"Can you hear me?" You ask, voice as melodic as he'd expect a mermaid's to be. You shift closer to him, your tail coming to press up against his leg, and it even feels real. "That looks pretty bad." 

"You're real," He breathes out, hand awkwardly reaching out to poke your tail. "This...Australia has mermaids?" 

"No, no." You answer gently. "This is a costume, sweetheart. I'm just dressed up for a party." 

He squints, trying to focus on where your tail meets your waist, and he softly shakes his head. That's something a mermaid would say to try and hide its existence. After all, your tail seems to meet perfectly with your skin, which he most certainly isn't focusing on. "I don't believe you." 

"Oh?" You laugh, sitting back as Charles props himself up. "Must've hit your head harder than I thought." 

"You look so real!" He finds himself saying, hand reaching out to gently pet against one of the little side fins on your tail. "This is...like the Little Mermaid, no?" 

"Well, I did save you from drowning." Your hand comes up to find his forehead again, tilting his head towards you. "But I'm serious about that, you might be concussed." 

Then the panic starts to sink in a little at the tone of your voice. He can handle a scrape or two, but a concussion? He'd be out of the race, and he'd be out of the race for potentially a long time. "I'm sure it's fine," He says, coming up to move your hand away. "It doesn't hurt that bad." 

"Here," That other voice says, and Charles looks up to see another woman, handing you a bag. "There's some first aid supplies in there." 

"It's a real mermaid, right?" Charles asks them, and they just sort of stare at him, like one would at a delusional man. 

"It's for my daughter's birthday party." Then, giving a small pause, "They're actually a werewolf. Werefish. Fish by night, person by day." 

"Enough of that, you two." You say, beckoning Charles forward. You gently wipe over the cut on his forehead and he hisses, hand reaching out to clasp over your tail-knee, and you hum gently. Werefish - you both were mocking him. He had made the discovery of a lifetime, and you were mocking him. "Easy there, Prince Eric. I need to clean this." 

"Charles," He says finally, "My name is Charles." 

You wipe over the cut again and then apply a bandage, offering a smile that makes Charles's heart do things, and he's pretty sure it's not the seawater he ingested, or the potential concussion. "Well, Charles. That's the best I can do, for the time being." 

"Is the Prince okay?" The tiny voice returns, and Charles turns to see a young girl with a birthday sash slung over her shoulder peering up at him. 

It was a child's birthday party, and his subpar surfing skills crashed it. 

Literally. "Yes," Charles answers. "Sorry for interrupting your party." 

"It's okay," She says, gesturing to you. "We were waiting for her prince anyway. Now you can kiss!" 

"Ruby!" You say with a small laugh. "Prince Charles here just got hurt!" 

"And you can kiss it better," Ruby states firmly. "Mermaid magic." 

Then, there's a little swarm of girls behind Ruby, all looking at you and Charles intently. "I'm sorry about them," The woman says quickly. "It's sort of a mob mentality." 

"I can only kiss it better if the prince gives me permission." You say, crossing your arms over your chest, and making Charles's eyes widen. He has to give permission? For you to kiss him? He would say it's the other way around, considering you're a majestic mermaid, and he's a drowning man you just pulled from the water. 

"Go on!" Ruby says, glaring at him. "Let her make it better." 

"I-of course." He rushes out, tilting his head down. "Anything to stop the pain." 

Then, to his shock, you lean over and gently press a kiss to his forehead, and the tiny crowd erupts in cheers as heat flushes from Charles's cheeks to his ears. "Now, you all have to let Prince Charles go to get actual medical help." 

"I'll take them back to the car." The other woman says, quickly herding them away as Charles wobbly stands. 

"Sorry about that," You say up at him, and he has to remind himself that you can't stand. Tail, and all. Maybe he'll have to carry you out here, and he'll get to be the hero in reverse. Maybe, he thinks before he can stop himself, he'll get another kiss for helping. "If that was uncomfortable, or you felt forced, but-" 

"No, no!" Charles says, sounding far too eager. "It's not every day you get the chance to kiss a mermaid. I should make it up to you, and your niece, for crashing the party and all. Dinner?" 

Then, because today is truly full of surprises, you slip your phone from the bag and unlock it before handing it to him. A mermaid with a phone. Part of him thinks you'd use a shell.

Part of him thinks he might be genuinely losing his mind, and his team should come and rescue him soon. "Dinner sounds lovely, Prince Charles." 

"Will you wear the tail?" He asks over the phone as he types in his number. 

"Unless it's a swim up bar? No." 

-

f1gossip Something fishy is going on! Charles Leclerc suffered a nasty fall while surfing in Melbourne this week, only to be saved by a mermaid! the unnamed sea creature was seen tending to Charles's wounds on the rocks before returning to his crew. (We don't really know either.)

↳ carcarcar ...what timeline did we enter for Charles to be saved by a MERMAID?

↳ forza-ferrawri hopefully a timeline where Ferrari can win

↳ brocedes never letting go of the disney prince allegations 

↳ fan44 f1gossip, I think it's time for a nap...or a reality check

-

"Okay, okay-" Pierre wheezes out, barely managing to block the pillow Charles tosses at him. "Okay! Let me get this straight: you wiped out and got saved by a mermaid? With-with the tail?" Then, when Charles can't bring himself to answer, "And you believed it!" 

"You'd believe it too!" It had been a few days since you'd rescued Charles, and he was sort of still losing his mind. His team had given him a clean bill of health, no concussion, safe to race, but he couldn't stop thinking about you. It had been real, your texts to him had proven. You were dressed up for your niece's birthday but deep down in Charles's heart, a young part of him still wanted to believe that you were an actual mermaid, if only to help his bruised ego. "It was either a real mermaid or I was hallucinating." 

"You never thought it could be a costume?" When you'd just been dragged underwater and smashed against a rock?

No, a costume did not cross Charles's mind. "It looked so real! Even the tail!" 

Max appears in their little rest station, Red Bull in hand like it always is, offering a matching, shit-eating grin as Pierre's, and without having to say anything, Charles throws a pillow at him too. They wouldn't understand! He wasn't just being an idiot, or delusional, you had been so ethereal, so beautiful, you had to be magical. Magic was the only way to explain why you'd say yes to dinner with him. Magic was the only reason any of this could have happened at all. "So," Max finally says, coming to sit beside Pierre, "You were saved by a mermaid, who helped bandage you up, and who you then asked out to dinner?" 

"They also kissed it better." Charles admits quietly, and both Pierre and Max blinked at him before finally speaking again.

"You're fucked." Charles throws another pillow, now out of them on his couch, and Max catches it and launches it back, and Charles can't block it in time. It hits against his head and he hisses, gently rubbing at where you'd applied the bandage, and all Charles can think is that you technically already had your first kiss together.

He wasn't like this, with people, with dating. He didn't randomly give out his number, most certainly now that he was a driver. It had to be magic, for you to have won him over so easily, or maybe it was his injured mental state. All Charles knew is that he was, in fact, fucked, and there was nothing he could do but see it through.

"This can't be real!" Pierre says, shaking his head. 

"They are too real." Charles snaps back, already pulling his phone out to show off your Instagram. He didn't do that normally, either, stalk social media accounts, but he needed to see if you worked as a professional mermaid or something, or if you were hiding a secret mermaid identity. 

"Who, the person or the mermaid?" Max teases, and Charles pauses to stare at a new post, underwater shot of you and your tail and all, and Charles just sort of stares at his phone until Pierre and Max come over to join him. 

"Oh." Pierre says, reaching over to zoom in on the photo of you with a tail. "That does look real." 

Vindication, Charles thinks, has never looked so good. 

-

Liked by yourbestie, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername we take playing mermaids very seriously in this house

↳ yourbestie the best aunt/mermaid in the world 

↳ yourusername anything for my baby 🥰

↳ charles_leclerc how can you tell me you're not a real mermaid? look at the second photo!

↳ yourusername maybe you hit your head harder on that rock than we thought...

↳ charles_leclerc this is a conspiracy against me.

↳ f1_fanatic CHARLES???

↳ mclar_win they really weren't kidding that he was saved by a mermaid

-

It was just supposed to be dinner.

You weren't crazy, after all. Most of the world thinks you are, considering pictures have ended up everywhere of you and Charles, apparently an F1 driver, with you in a mermaid tail, but you were not crazy. You didn't just randomly accept guy's numbers, especially those you're pretty sure are concussed, but there was just something about Charles that made every little crazy thing seem normal. 

Because it wasn't just dinner, it was an incredible, five star experience that turned into drinks the next day. 

And it wasn't just drinks, it was laughing and bonding and skipping what felt like a 100 first dates and just going straight into getting to know each other. He'd told you about his race, and you'd watched it, and you told him how happy you were for him, and he didn't understand. He'd placed eighth, injured and all! He didn't seem thrilled with the number, but to you? You'd save his life, and then he'd gotten eighth in a grand prix. 

You deserved part of his points, you'd joked, and he told you he'd send every trophy he got your way. 

That's how you ended up on a boat that he'd rented, alone off the coast. Your best friend said you'd be crazy to turn him down, but now, you're starting to wonder if you're crazy for seeing this through. It wasn't supposed to be like this, but there was something about Charles that just sort of made you see it through. 

"I'm still not convinced," Charles says from where he's sprawled on a beach towel. "I think this is all a disguise." 

Even if he was still pretty caught up on the mermaid thing. "What? My legs?" You say, rolling onto your side to squint down at him

"Mermaid magic," Charles answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world, hand coming up to play with your drying hair. You'd spent a better part of the morning in the water, spending Charles's last day in Australia together, and something unspoken was stuck between you. The way you feel isn't just some fling, but you'd only known him for three days. You wouldn't blame him for moving on and forgetting about you, and all this mermaid stuff. "You don't want the world to know mermaids are real, so you're hiding it from me." 

You laugh, falling back down onto your towel, and Charles shoots up onto his elbows to offer a soft glare. "Oh, you're serious?" 

"It looked so real! This-" He pokes at your leg a few times, before his hand flattens out to smooth against your thigh, and your faces heat up in tandem. "This isn't right," Charles says finally, giving your leg a small squeeze. "Where's the fins? The shells?" 

"Do you have a thing for mermaids?" You tease, and Charles rips his hand off your leg, cheeks turning a rather nice shade of pink.

"All I'm saying is you make a very beautiful, believable mermaid, and that your secret is safe with me." A beautiful, believable mermaid. You can't immediately think of anything to say after that, stuck replaying those four words on a loop. He doesn't move to lay back down, just perched at your side, and you reach over to grab his ankle.

You'd have to address it eventually, you think. Until then, however, you'll play along, even if it's starting to grow old. "I should get my shark friends to eat you." 

"See! Proof." Charles says before rising to his feet, and he smugly crosses his arms over his chest as he peers down at you. "You're terrible at hiding your secret identity." 

"At what point do I get concerned that you think I'm a mermaid?" And, instead of answering you, Charles bends down to pick you up, an arm easily slotting under your back and under your knees to haul you up. You gasp, quick to wrap your arms around him, and pressed this close, you think he really might be a prince. 

He's wealthy enough to be, surely, but it was just the way he looked, but more specifically, the way he looked at you. You couldn't find anything particularly poetic to say about his eyes, or his hair, or that damning smile, but when Charles looked at you, it didn't matter whatever else was going on. 

You just wanted him to keep looking. "Well, I suppose there's one way to test if you are a mermaid or not." 

Then, with little grace, Charles throws you overboard.

You gasp as you hit the water, sputtering as you breach the surface, and Charles squints down at your legs pedalling in the water. You splash water up at him as he laughs, and you wouldn't take back any of the things you'd said about him, but you would add that you were getting annoyed at his antics, and fast. "Charles!" You admonish, "I'm not going to grow a tail!" 

"You can forgive a man for trying, no?" You swim back to the boat, trying to get up the ladder. "Oh come on, ma perle. Your secret is safe with me." 

"Help me up," You say, and as Charles takes your hand, you get a wonderful, terrible idea. 

You let go of the ladder, falling backward and pulling Charles with you, and he screeches as he hits the water, payback for all the ridiculous things you've put up with so far. If it were anyone else, you think, all this mermaid business would have grown old fast, but with Charles's charm, it's hard to hate it, especially when he's wrapping his arms around you again. "You," He says as his hands find your waist, and your arms wrap around his neck, "Are mean." 

"Payback." You answer happily, and Charles's eyes dip from yours to drag down to your mouth, and suddenly, the chill of the water is gone and replaced by the heat of being pressed so close to him. 

It was barely a week, you try to remind yourself. You'd only gone to dinner, and drinks, and out this afternoon, but something about it felt enticing in a way you'd never felt before. It had never felt like he was a stranger, considering he let you kiss his forehead for your niece, or the way he talked like he'd known you his whole life. 

Maybe you were the one losing it, considering all the things that meant this didn't work out in the end. He was a famous driver who lived in Monaco, nowhere near you or Australia, but it's hard to think of excuses not to kiss a man when he's currently leaning in. You meet him halfway, a clumsy thing as you try to stay afloat in the water, but it's right, like you were always meant to be pressed close to Charles like this, like this was your hundredth kiss, and not your first. Charles deepens it, hand coming up to cradle your cheek before he seems to forget that he needs to keep himself afloat and he slips underwater, breaking the moment. "Maybe you're a siren," He says as he re-emerges, shaking out his hair and spraying you with it. "Trying to drown me." 

"Maybe I am." You tease in response, and Charles feigns a gasp. 

"Proof! Again!" Then, with a grin, his hands find your waist again and he pulls you against him. "You know, you shouldn't be out here, terrorizing Melbourne's beaches." 

"Oh really?" Charles nods enthusiastically. 

"Mhm," He says, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I happen to know a prince, in Monaco, who could use the company instead." 

-

f1gossip Shapeshifter or Siren? After being saved by a mermaid, Charles Leclerc was spotted getting cozy with a certain someone in the water after his race...without a tail!

↳ fan16 why am I lowkey disappointed they aren't an actual mermaid

↳ brocedes after Ferrari's race this weekend?? man probably is trying to drown himself

↳ forza-ferrawri he already tried it with the water in his seat 

↳ totallynotyourbestie can we just appreciate how cute they are??

↳ mclar_win Charles dating an Australian Mermaid? Checks out

-

-

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Liked by yourbestie, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername he keeps pushing me into the water to see if I'll grow a tail

↳ charles_leclerc it might work, ma perle

↳ yourusername you're lucky you're cute

↳ fan16 my pearl 😭 even her nickname is mermaid themed

↳ yourbestie @/charles_leclerc i hear mermaids like the waters better in monaco...just saying

↳ charles_leclerc tickets are already booked

-

Liked by yourbestie, yourusername and others

charles_leclerc might not have any pictures of mermaids, but plenty of us

↳ yourusername you're never letting this go, are you?

↳ charles_leclerc no

↳ pierregasly no      

↳ yourbestie no 🥰

↳ brocedes the meet cute to end all meet cutes

↳ forza-ferrawri literally a fairytale

a/n: i need to be on a beach. right now. that is where this came from

[rose24207]

no wall is strong enough to keep us apart

Summary: A family torn apart by the Berlin Wall reunites in an emotional embrace the night it falls, proving that love endures even the strongest barriers.

'89s!Dad!Lando x '89s!Mum!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, historical

TW: mention of DDR, Stasi, Berlin wall, propaganda, separation, timeline is not chronological correct for the sake of the story, I know the wall has been up 28 years!

A/N: Yes I know it’s completely different from what I normally post but I really like the topic and the stories behind the families and friends that were separated back then! Let me know if you want more of historical events - btw I’m listening to Pink Floyd rn.

Navigation

Berlin, 1959

The air smelled of fresh bread and strong coffee as the bustling streets of Berlin came alive in the early morning sun. You weaved through the crowd, your fingers laced with Lando’s as your little daughter, Emma, skipped ahead, her blonde curls bouncing.

“Slow down, liebe,” (love) you called after her, but she only giggled, twirling in her little dress.

Lando laughed, pulling you closer. “She’s got your energy.”

“She’s got your stubbornness.”

“And your smile.”

Life was simple, full of love. The three of you lived in a small apartment in Mitte, not far from Alexanderplatz. Lando worked as a mechanic, saving up to open his own shop, while you worked part-time at a bakery. You didn’t have much, but you had enough.

West Berlin was only a tram ride away. You’d sometimes take Emma to see the grand department stores on Kurfürstendamm, or visit family in Charlottenburg. There were no checkpoints, no barbed wire—only a city still healing from the war, divided but still connected.

You never imagined that in just two years, everything would change.

August 12-13, 1961

The night was humid, the air heavy with something unspoken. You stood by the window, unable to sleep, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. Lando was in West Berlin, fixing a car for a client. He was supposed to come home tomorrow.

But then—

A knock at the door.

Your neighbor, Frau Keller, stood there, her face pale. “Turn on the radio.”

Confused, you hurried to the small wooden set in the corner. As the static cleared, a voice crackled through:

"Starting at midnight, the borders between East and West Berlin will be sealed off indefinitely. All crossings will be closed. A new security measure to protect the people of the DDR from imperialist threats."

Your heart stopped.

“No,” you whispered. “No, no—”

You ran outside, past confused neighbors, past uniformed officers already unrolling barbed wire. In the distance, at the Brandenburg Gate, soldiers hammered wooden posts into the ground.

The wall was already being built.

Your stomach dropped.

Lando.

Morning came, and with it, devastation.

A crude barrier of barbed wire and armed guards now split the city in two. Families screamed across the divide, reaching for loved ones they could no longer touch. Desperate people jumped from windows in border buildings, trying to land in West Berlin before they were sealed in. Some made it. Others did not.

You stood among the crowd, Emma clutching your waist, sobbing.

You spotted him—Lando.

On the other side.

“Lando!” You screamed, your voice drowned by the chaos.

His head snapped up. His blue eyes met yours, wide with horror. He tried to run forward, but soldiers blocked him, rifles raised.

“Bitte!” (please!) he shouted. “Meine Frau! Mein Kind!” (my wife! My child!)

“Step back!” a soldier barked.

Lando’s fists clenched. His face twisted in anguish as he reached toward you, separated only by meters—but it might as well have been a world away.

Emma wailed. “Papa!”

Lando pressed his hand against the barbed wire, his knuckles white. “I’ll find a way! I promise!”

Then—

A soldier raised his gun.

“MOVE BACK!”

Your scream died in your throat. Lando’s face twisted with helpless rage, but he stepped back, his hands trembling.

The last thing you saw before being forced away was his eyes, burning with a promise neither of you knew if he could keep.

And just like that, your family was torn in half.

The months that followed were a blur of despair. Overnight, the DDR had become a prison. The border was reinforced—first with more barbed wire, then concrete. Guard towers rose along its length, manned by soldiers under orders to shoot anyone who tried to escape.

Friends and family disappeared. Some fled in hidden tunnels, others were caught and sent to Stasi prisons. Fear seeped into every corner of life.

Emma stopped asking about Lando. Not because she didn’t miss him—but because it hurt too much.

One night, as you listened to a smuggled West German broadcast in secret, you heard his name.

"A man attempted to swim across the Spree River today in an effort to reunite with his family in East Berlin. He was spotted by DDR border guards and forced to retreat before he could reach land. Sources confirm his name as Lando Norris."

Your hands trembled. He was trying. He hadn’t given up.

But the wall still stood.

And so did the distance between you.

In the Night of November 9, 1989

For years, the wall had been unbreakable. But tonight, the whispers began.

You sat by the radio, Emma—now seventeen—beside you. Your hands gripped hers as the news played.

"A government official has announced that, effective immediately, citizens of the DDR will be allowed to cross freely into West Berlin."

The words hit like lightning.

Emma shot to her feet. “Mama—”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed her hand and ran.

The streets were chaos—thousands of people surging toward the border, tears streaming down faces, disbelief mixing with hope. Some shouted in joy, others in fear.

You reached the Bornholmer Straße checkpoint, breathless. Soldiers stood rigid, gripping their weapons, unsure whether to enforce the wall or let history decide its fate.

Then—one man stepped forward.

Then another.

And suddenly—

The guards stepped back.

The gates opened.

The crowd surged forward.

Emma yanked your hand. “Mama, we have to find him!”

You pushed through the sea of bodies, your heart hammering, your breath ragged. People embraced, wept, screamed with joy.

And then—

There.

Lando.

Standing at the barrier, his face frozen in shock.

For a moment, the world stood still.

Then you ran.

Your feet barely touched the ground before you crashed into him, your arms locking around his neck. He held you so tightly it hurt, his chest heaving with sobs against yours.

“Mein Gott,” (my god) he choked out. “It’s real. You’re real.”

Tears blurred your vision as you pulled back, your fingers trembling against his face. “I never stopped waiting.”

Emma stood a few feet away, her lips parted, her entire body shaking.

Lando turned, his breath catching as he saw her properly for the first time in years.

“My baby,” he whispered.

Emma exhaled a broken sob before throwing herself into his arms. Lando held her, his hands buried in her hair, rocking her like she was still the little girl he’d lost.

“I missed everything,” he whispered. “I missed everything.”

She clung to him. “But you’re here now.”

The three of you held each other, shaking, crying, whole again for the first time in years.

Around you, the wall crumbled—not just in stone, but in the hearts of the people who had been divided for too long.

And after all these years, Berlin was finally one again.

Just like your family.

One Year Later

The remnants of the Berlin Wall stood in pieces, now just another relic of the past.

Lando’s hands ran over the rough surface, his fingers brushing against the graffiti left by those who had longed for freedom.

Beside him, Emma held his other hand, her eyes bright. “I think you should take a piece.”

Lando smiled, chipping off a small fragment and tucking it into his pocket.

You leaned into him, inhaling the crisp autumn air. “What will you do with it?”

He turned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Keep it. To remind me that no wall is strong enough to keep us apart.”

And for the first time in decades, you believed it.

Because the wall had fallen.

And love had won.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[flower-blossoms654]

No bc like it’s so hard to get people who only know pop psychology to understand how severe shit can be or how things can have many complexities. It actively does harm to these groups of individuals when people just fucking say “oh they have this” so they must be evil or “someone has done this” so they MUST have this condition, associating abuse or mistreatment as diagnosis and the disorder itself. It makes it so hard to stand by your own existence because you can’t even prove yourself. I have witnessed so many conversations like that - “oh they’re a narcissist” because the person acted selfishly, automatically tying the connotation to NPD.

Then there’s my own experiences with undershooting the severity of other mental conditions, as they only know them by how the terms have been used in a pop context or by the glamorized version of things. There are so many people that’ll be like “yeah depression is so hard” and then turn up their nose when you express how hard maintaining hygiene and cleanliness has been for you. Yeah I used to not shower for 2 weeks and struggled to brush my teeth even once a day and I never flossed - and they look at you like you are disgusting when you could barely muster the energy to wake up and survive.

My sister tells me she got “overstimulated” and I’m like yeah it fucking sucks. Sometimes it gets so bad that I have to flee the room and I have to stop myself from putting so much pressure on my head that it hurts - to stop from clawing at my ears in the hope that things will just quiet. Rip the clothing from my skin and resist the urge to scratch the feeling away. And then there’s the look again - that I’m crazy even though they used the word for what that feeling is. And then I realize that oh she meant overwhelmed and she is not in fact feeling something crawl under her skin and suffocating her with a feeling that is not quite claustrophobic but something close to it.

My mom says that she is “a bit adhd as well” and I think she understands but then she mentions how she’s just sometimes absentminded. And I have to navigate if she really does experience some of the things I do or be hit with the “you shouldn’t be doing that” or “I guess it’s not important to you then” when I forget something or I sit for hours not drinking, eating, or using the restroom because the only thing that exists is what is in front of me. How I feel like crying when I’m forced to sit in a chair for just an hour and fifteen minutes of class because my body is screaming at me to move and I can’t catch onto anything my professor is saying.

I have such bad intrusive thoughts sometimes that it’s taken me years to admit that I even had them to someone else, because I knew that if I told someone they would likely view me terribly, even as I try to scream in my head to drown those thoughts. How it just makes me freeze as I tense and try to think of anything but it - until I forget that I had the thought in the first place bc I don’t wanna ever remember it existed in the first place. How it took me forever to view myself as something other than evil and terrible and monstrous—because that’s what I’ve been told that that’s how people with those thoughts are, regardless of anything else.

It all just makes it so hard to get support. To get accommodation - not even speaking in a work sense. To just get the people around you to realize how you might struggle or what you are fighting against and be there because you are not evil for the disorder you have. That hey, this person might not be able to stand the same things you can because they ARENT the same person as you. They just think you are either the same as them or not even human at all, and it makes it so isolating when sometimes all you need is someone to look at you and see you.

I genuinely can't stand pop psychology I'm not an expert on this stuff but the damage it has done to the general public's understanding of mental health and psychology must be notable. People with low empathy are evil. NPD is The Abuser Disorder. here's how your partner is subconsciously manipulating you. OCD is when you like cleaning. If you ask him a question and he looks away for one second he's lying to you and abusing you. Follow for more dark psychology tips. Letting my intrusive thoughts win and dyeing my hair. I thought this guy was into me I'm so delulu. Anyone who comes to you with their problems is traumadumping and abusive. Anyone who gives you gifts is lovebombing and abusive. Being neurodivergent means Liking Things. Neurotypicals don't like things. They are empty shells without feelings. Neurodivergent means ADHD or ASD. What, BPD? Schizophrenia?? That's not very quirky or fun. And that's what neurodivergent means. That's just weird. Being mentally ill isn't an excuse to be weird. Only Evil People manipulate and abuse. There are certain people who Are Evil by nature (people with NPD) and they Will abuse you. Loving someone means it's impossible to abuse them only Evil People Who Hate You are abusive. Have I mentioned that people with NPD are evil. I really want to drive that home

[evesbookshop]

𝐌𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐬𝐨 𝐦����𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞 ❤︎︎

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Izuku Midoriya who starts knitting as physical therapy after his last battle. Who by the time he’s a teacher has insane hand dexterity and is ambidextrous. Whose friends all have their own knit versions of their own merch. Who knits both you and himself little braided rings you both use as place holders until you marry. Which is extremely helpful cause he can just keep remaking his when it falls off without his knowledge or breaks

Izuku Midoriya, who always feels absolutely horrible when he does loose or damage one of these knit rings. And so he spends a few hours when he gets home wrecking you on extremely skilled fingers while whispering compliments and apologies in your ear. “You forgive me don’t you, baby?” Knowing you can’t see straight let alone form works.

Katsuki Bakugou, who despite being an absolute monster with Spicey food , cannot handle even a little sour. Who claims it’s just nasty , and won’t touch one with his friends around. Who falls victim when you give him a war head in place of a regular hard candy and whole face turns red just to twists in shock and betrayal before running out the room to spit it and and definitely not puke.

Katsuki Bakugou who’s a spiteful bastard, and so the next time you have sex, in the middle of moan you find lemon juice being squeezed into your mouth. Shock causing you to yelp and the juice to leak out your mouth. It’s okay though because despite hating the taste, he finds that it’s not so bad when he’s licking it off your throat.

Shoto Todoroki, who’s dense but not nearly as much as people think he is. It took a him a while to figure out he didn’t just really want to be your friend, and then stop ignoring you after the fact. But otherwise very aware of social ques and habits. Who was literally media trained as a child, but he just thinks it’s funnier to blurt things out that should probably stay private. Who acts very lost sometimes but only when it’s beneficial and gets people to leave him alone. And who after getting into a relationship doesn’t do it in private, because he refuses to lie or anything close to you.

Shoto Todoroki who despite not liking to play dense with you in day to day life is more then willing to use it against you in bed “oh right here ? Did that feel good? I’m sorry I can’t quite understand you , love?”

Eijiro Kirishima, who’s a tank of a man , the epitome of typical masculinity out side of his tender personality. Who also eats up trash reality television. Big brother, real house wives, keeping up with the kardashians, toddlers and tiaras, and the holy grail- Jersey Shore. He who has matching meatball shirts with you and that same pair of studded out sunglasses. And who because of said tv shows, has the nastiest reads in the book. A list shit talker when no one’s looking.

Eijiro Kirishima, who comes home one day to see you in the skimpiest outfit known to man, covered in leopard print. And finds himself more horny than he’s ever been in his entire life. Who is in the apartment for maybe 2 minutes before he has you face down, bent over the couch arm.

Denki Kaminari, who’s is actually a little dense and struggles with numbers and letters, due to dyslexia they caught late, but loves to consume literature. Who is might as well be a walking audible commercial. Who is an avid Colleen Hoover hater. Who eats up all sorts of books from biographies to the most jaw dropping smut books ever. Who because of his vast online book collection, is actually really smart just about oddly specific things and people.

Denki Kaminari who drags you into the bedroom because he’s trying to figure out a really oddly worded position in a book, and lets you reap the benefits of his confusion.at least when he gets it right, for the first half it’s mostly maneuvering around each other while listening to the same part of the book in utter confusion.

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ❤︎︎

[absfemme]

https://www.tumblr.com/absfemme/778302249262891008/anyway-send-me-more-fic-reqs-please-im-so-bored?source=share

ANYTHING ABT ABBY DICKING U DOWN PLEASEEEEEEE

cw ; meandomabby subreader. daddy kink. strap use. slight overstim. pussy slapping. face slapping. spanking.

“why you runnin', huh? take it. take this shit.”

a heavy slap lands on your thigh, the sting blooming into a red, abby-shaped handprint. not that you care—your poor hole is too full, too stretched and messy to give a shit. the sharp bite of pain only makes you shudder, you twitch in response.

she’s been at this for what feels like forever, keeping you spread out over her lap, making you take every inch of her. every time you try to squirm away (when did you start moving so much?), she yanks you right back in like it’s nothing.

"stay fucking still," she growls, delivering another sharp smack—this time against your dripping cunt. you jolt, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as heat floods your body. your clit throbs at the impact, sending another wave of slick dripping down the length of her as well as new fresh, hot tears down your face.

she rolls her eyes at your persistent cries, scoffing. you’re so fucking soft. it’s almost sad.

maybe you shouldn’t have begged for this—shouldn’t have pulled at her shirt, shouldn’t have whined in that needy little voice about how badly you wanted to be fucked while she was busy. please, abby. need your cock. please, daddy, please.

yeah, you asked for this.

"aw, you crying? is it too much?"

you nod, hoping for mercy, for even a little relief. but all that does is make her go harder. of course she does. fucking bully.

“but you were just begging for this dick a second ago, weren’t you?"

your nodding is frantic, desperate—like it’ll change anything, like she’ll ease up. but abby only snickers, fingers digging into your cheeks as she tilts your face up to hers. her thumb drags through the wet mess on your skin, not to wipe it away, but to spread it, smearing your own ruin across your cheek. a silent reminder of just how far gone you already are.

“nah,” she mutters, voice dropping lower, rougher. “quit with the tears. you wanted this, remember?”

her hips snap forward, forcing a choked gasp from you. your hands scramble against her arms, not to push her away—just to hold onto something. she’s so deep it’s close to unbearable, and yet your cunt takes it—likes it—clenching down like you don’t know whether to run or keep her right there.

abby laughs again, a low, mean thing. she leans in, pressing her lips to your ear, breath hot and warming.

“still wanna act like it’s too much?” she punctuates the question with another sharp thrust, dragging a broken sob from your throat. “c’mon, use your words, baby. tell me how bad you need it.”

but you can’t—you can barely even think, and she knows it. knows she’s got you exactly where she wants you.

her hand slides down, fingers wrapping around your throat—not tight enough to cut off your air, but just enough to make you feel it, to remind you who’s in control. her grip is steady, unshakable, even as your body jerks with every brutal thrust.

“thaaaaat’s it,” she grits out, watching the way your face twists. “take it. just like that.”

your nails dig into her forearm, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure builds. she knows exactly what she’s doing, keeping you trapped between the deep drag of her cock and the bruising grip on your neck.

"gonna cum?" her voice is a pitch higher now, mocking you, teasing you, but there’s something hungrier underneath it. she wants you to. needs you to.

you nod again, gasping out something that might be her name, might just be a broken mess of syllables.

abby glances down, groaning at the mess between your thighs—the way your cunt drools around her cock, thick and sticky, leaving a filthy trail of grool smeared along her skin.

"fuckin’ do it," she growls, slamming into you harder, deeper. "cum all over this dick."

the last bit of restraint snaps, and your body obeys instantly, back arching as the pleasure crashes over you, raw and overwhelming. you swear you black out for a second, the sensation so sharp it’s almost too much.

abby groans at the way you squeeze around her, her pace turning sloppy, desperate, like she’s chasing her own high through the mess of you. she fucks you through it, dragging it out, making sure you feel all of it.

even as your body trembles from the aftershocks, she doesn’t slow, her grip unrelenting as she ruts into you with that same hungry intensity.

"can’t do it?" she mocks, dragging her lips along your jaw, breath hot against your sweat-slick skin. "you asked for this.”

⤷ tags ; @blackdykegirlblogger @caninecutiez @graciedollie

[razorblade180]

Pretty like the…

Jaune:*looking at maps*….

knock knock knock

Ruby:Jaune? You awake? I need your help…

Jaune:It’s open.

Ruby:*walks in* Thanks.

Jaune:*looks up* What’s the- wow.

Usually when Ruby asks for help, it’s to grab something from a high shelf. Jaune wasn’t expecting the girl to be standing in front of him wearing a pitch black dress that fanned out into a frilly skirt. White petals were embroidered along the hemline that matched silver heels and a headband with a budding rose.

Ruby:Thoughts?

Jaune:What did Weiss sign you up for?

Ruby: A lame ass guard job at a gala and banquet.

Jaune:Is there a reason to say both?

Ruby:Apparently! Anyways, even the hired help has to dress the part. The theme is monochrome. At least the food is free and black is one of my favorite colors. Makes me look a little less stupid.

Jaune:If this is stupid then all my outfits are brainless. I think you look nice.

Ruby:Can you help me lace up the back?

Jaune:No problem!

Ruby:Thank you!!! I’m so done fighting with this outfit.

She turns around for him to let him figure out the stringy mess.

Jaune:How long is the gala?

Ruby:Gala and banquet. It’s like five hours. Something ridiculous. I still have to do a little makeup and find a decent accessory.

Jaune:It kinda sounds like you’re taking this pretty seriously? Done!

Ruby:*turns around* It pains me to say it, but I’m not immune to silent judgement. If I do this right I’ll look like everyone else and not draw attention.

Jaune:Do it too well though and nobody will keep their eyes off you. They’ll be trying to figure out who the prettiest girl at the party is.

Ruby:Eh, second prettiest at best. Yang’s coming too.

Jaune:Pfft, wow. I thought my self esteem was low.

Ruby:What!? I’m right! Yang is…Yang. Standing out is her thing.

Jaune:So? Doesn’t kick you down a peg. I’m sure she’d say the same.

Ruby:Because her sister brain is out of touch with reality. It’s always been our dynamic. Not that it’s that big of a deal. People flocking to her is second nature. Yang’s gorgeous.

Jaune:Maybe. I mean, yeah Yang is pretty stunning.

Ruby:See!? You’d be crazy to think otherwise. She’s literally like sunlight in human form.

Jaune:So what if she’s like the sun? *fixes headband* There’s always someone who’s more captivated by gentle moonlight. *smiles*

Ruby:…*red* Oh, I ummm- that’s true I suppose.

Jaune:I think I have your accessory situation solved too. Every Arc has a little something.

He walks over to his belongings and starts rummaging around before gaining a sense of relief for finding it. Jaune returns with a simple pendant with his emblem on it.

Ruby:That looks mildly important…

Jaune:I never wear it. I’d probably break it if I did. Plus it feels out of place. With you though, it just might tie the look together.

Ruby:Should you really be trusting me with-

Jaune:I trust you with my life, don’t I?

The girl is left speechless, helpless as he gets behind her again. The pendant slowly rests on her chest as Jaune connects the back. With his little contribution added, he pulls out camera mode on his scroll so she gets a good look at herself. A sheepish smile snuck onto her face that caused both of them to chuckle.

Jaune:See? Just like moonlight.

Ruby:Soooo that means I captivate you?

Jaune:*red* …Always.

The room fell quiet. Both stared silently at one another, their distance closing a little more. It wasn’t intentional, but Ruby’s feet began to raise off the ground while Jaune seemed to be leaning down slowly. Their eye lids gradually started to close before a loud shout brought them back to reality, creating the distance again.

Weiss:RUBY! IT’S ALMOST TIME! YOU WANT YOUR MAKE UP DONE OR NOT!?

Ruby:Umm I uhh, should probably…

Jaune:Yeah. Uhh okay. Good luck.

Ruby:Th-Thanks! I’ll keep the pendant safe, sooo yeah. *rushes out*

Jaune:…Well now I have five hours to rationalize all of that just now.

xxxxxx

Weiss:There you are! I’ve been yelling your name for minutes.

Ruby:Sorry! I needed help with my outfit.

Weiss:Well you look good.

Ruby:Thanks. I feel good. *blushes* Pretty even.

Weiss:That is the magic of a good outfit.

Ruby:Yeah, the outfit.

[sugarwarachan]

(･ω･)つ andy's notes: feeling sad about the todoroki brothers and wrote about shouto pining hard. cws: angsty, shouto's messy thoughts on touya x nurse!reader, the todoroki family's wack-ass dynamics

the last time shouto ever really held his brother was years ago, when touya was exhausted and dying and angry, the boiling-hot slick of his skin rolling icy-hot under shouto's palm.

it's hard to remember how much touya hated him, even harder still to reconcile the image of his brother now with the man brought into the hospital all those years ago. his rehabilitation has been slow. countless surgeries and months of physical therapy have finally brought him a degree of relief, but the prosthetics still irritate his skin and it's a rare day when he can feed himself.

"i want more than fuckin' jello."

shouto can't help but chuckle at his brother's tone from across the room. it's always better to keep his distance when touya's back from surgery.

"too bad," is your inevitable reply. you've been touya's nurse for the past year and a half, a position normally held for a week or so. touya noted you've stayed on this long because you don't take any shit. "you got out of the OR only a few hours ago." you spoon a bite into his mouth, his scowl at being waited-upon like this evident.

shouto doesn't understand his displeasure. if anything, it looks...nice. domestic. something soft and hazy that neither brother knows much about, which is how he realizes his expression matches touya's fervent, hopeful longing.

he turns away to check his phone, ears burning.

visiting his brother is a necessity. shouto wouldn't divert from this routine any more than he would stop writing to his mother, but his brain's commitment has not caught up with his heart.

"why do they keep dragging me back there?" touya snarls. his mood is particularly foul today; the pain must be bad. "it's not like they're gonna make this ugly mug any prettier."

"improving your quality of life matters," you say, a bite in your voice. "and stop calling yourself ugly. it's not healthy."

you turn to him calmly, a gentle smile on your face. he wipes his own clear. "shouto, tell your brother how much words matter."

touya saves him from replying, which is best, because shouto never quite knows what to say after you ask something of him. "god woman, i get enough of this in therapy. give it a rest."

the set of your jaw is stubborn as you stare him down.

"fine. i suppose you'll just have to record a journal entry later to help you better reflect." you smile sweetly, a hint of flirtation lighting up your eyes. "well, i'll leave you two alone now. come get me when you're done," you say to shouto before closing the door behind you.

"weaponizing a man's own therapy journal against him, honestly." touya shakes his head, a dopey grin spreading across his face. "can you believe her?"

shouto might not always know how to respond to people, but he knows that question isn't meant for him to answer.

they catch up in their awkward, patched-up way, and when he stands to leave, he tries not to let the look of relief on touya's face hurt too much.

you're waiting outside with more jello. a playful grimace dances on your lips. "his favorite," you say, shaking the cup and shouldering your way into the room.

"more?!" he hears touya shout, followed by your giggle, high and bright.

you're good for him. in his way, touya is good for you, too.

and yet -

his desire to snatch away one of the good things in his brother's life is probably the most villainous thing about himself.

he doesn't have the stomach for betrayal, doesn't even really have the will, but thoughts swirl in his head nonetheless. shouto can't imagine a world where he can live outside of his family's name, one where he might fall in love and marry in a quiet ceremony.

but he can imagine those things for touya.

and he tell himself that's enough.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, established relationship, PIV sex, period sex!!! you've been warned. WC: 3.8K

A/N: Still alive. Still writing filth. Well, trying to at least. Finally managed to finish one of these so, enjoy!

His brow furrowed at the same time that his smile deflated to form a frown.

Steve had found you exactly as he had left you – curled up on your side on the couch with your eyes squinting at the TV screen. Your arms are still wound around your stomach boa constrictor tight too, your trembling lips parted enough to let out the occasional groan or shaky whimper.

Though the sight of you like this is enough to make him feel concerned, he's relieved to spot the empty plate dusted with sandwich crumbs resting on the coffee table. Even if it did sit a little too close to the edge for his comfort, it let him know that you'd upheld your promise to eat something while he was away at work.

Taking a few quiet steps closer into the living room, Steve approaches you from behind and leans over the back of the couch to get a better look at you, his shadow stretching long to cloak you from the light coming off the TV.

"Any better?", he asks gently in lieu of a hello, slipping the question between laugh tracks as another episode of The Golden Girls commenced on screen. Your comfort show.

Steve watches patiently as you turn much too slowly and carefully to meet his eye from over your shoulder. That's when he notices how glassy they've become, unshed tears growing fatter and fatter behind your lash line, verging on spilling down your puffy cheeks. A little pout pushes your lightly chapped lips out too, mustering up enough strength to shake your head ‘no’.

Steve’s heart always hung heavy in his chest whenever he saw you like this, all pained and panting. Wanting to be closer to you, he rounds the couch and gladly takes the hand you unwind from around your sore belly and hold out to him, encouraging him to sit beside you.

To the relief of you both, there's no awkward fidgeting or clueless gestures exchanged at this stage of your relationship when Steve takes a seat. Instead, he moves with the quiet confidence of someone whose been through this very situation enough times to know exactly how to soothe you. To begin, he carefully gathers you into his lap, not wanting to trigger any more pinching pain or another cramping crick that might shoot up your back whip crack quick.

Your mood begins to shift for the first time that day, perking up as you let him cradle you, nuzzling into his chest as you settle sideways in his lap. He doesn't even have to question you when he feels your fingers circling his wrist either, letting you pluck his hand and guide it underneath your t-shirt. Steve remembers to spread his warm fingers over as much of the soft skin of your belly as possible, smiling when he sees you sigh with some relief.

He'd sit there all night with you like this if not for the little plastic shopping bag you’re yet to notice still grasped in his other hand. The shifty little sound it makes when he shakes it five minutes later draws your attention once you’ve made yourself comfortable in his lap. You blink your eyes open, curiously squinting at the bag and its familiar logo printed on the front.

"Figured I'd stop by the pharmacy before I headed home. Just to be safe", Steve explains with a kind smile, pretty crescent dimples making impressions on his cheeks. The thoughtful gesture is enough to make your body turn warm with adoration.

"So, I've got pain killers and heating pads and– ‘want me to open one up for you?", Steve offers before he lists the rest and you make sure to match his smile with one of your own that's just as sweet before you politely decline. "Can I use your hands a little longer?", you ask instead, practically purring from the way his large palm rests on you. "It feels so nice".

Once again, you're reminded of how lucky you are to have him when Steve's eyes catch the light and glitter like they always do when he does something you like. Just like a labrador lighting up at the sight of a bone.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course", he answers, so eager to please. He frees his hand by setting the bag down, once again letting you wrap your smaller fingers around his wrist and pull it closer to your chest.

You place it over your left breast and without needing to tell him how, Steve settles into a routine he's pretty much memorized by now. He grasps the shape of your breast under your t-shirt and begins massaging it gently like he’s done so many times before, aware of how sore they get when you're on your period, switching over to the other sensitive breast and then back again to the first for more.

He can tell that he's touching you the right way when he's treated to the sounds you begin to let slip out, contented sighs and soft groans, even that pinched little space between your eyebrows becomes lax enough to turn your face into a picture of bliss.

"Pills didn't do much today did they?", he guesses, earning another shake of your head.

"Neither did the hot water bottle?", he asks when he spies it lying on the carpet by the couch, knowing full well it'd probably been discarded there out of frustration.

"Just made me feel sweaty and gross", you whined back softly in reply.

"Is this helping? what I'm doing?", he asks hopefully.

"Yes, still crampy but It's already better having you hold me", you tell him sincerely, adjusting yourself in his lap so that your lips can reach his cheek and show your gratitude with a quick peck.

The next few minutes that pass with you perched on his lap is the closest you've felt to relief, his hands soothing your sensitive skin and much of the pain you'd dealt with all day.

Though not all of it.

Despite all Steve's done he can't quite snuff the pain out for you through touch alone. Your cramps continue to jab and twist and flare angrily inside you, less frequently but just as unpleasant as they had been this morning.

"Um, so listen", he clears his throat abruptly, noticing your unyielding discomfort.

When you look up at Steve you can almost feel the way his thoughts are stirring rapidly in his head, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip in the same way he does when he's deep in thought.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I could do?", he asks eventually.

You think on it for a few short moments, shrugging when nothing comes to mind.

" I don't know... like what?"

---

"You really don't think it's gross?", you check for the third time, bare thighs squeezing together as if they were bound under lock and key. "We don't even know if it'll work", you add nervously, afraid of the kind of mess you're making on the towel that's been placed under you. At least the charcoal cotton will hide most of it. You hope.

Steve pops back into sight at the sound of your wavering voice, his hair messily fluffed up in all directions from pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it into a corner of the bedroom floor. He cranes his neck and rests his stubbled chin on your knees as your heels dig deeper into the mattress. "Baby" he sighed, smiling. Loving and reassuring all in one exhale of breath that tickles your perspiring skin. "It's not gross. You know that", he squeezes your thighs reassuringly, climbing over your bent legs to kiss you quick and thaw your inhibitions.

"I just want to make my poor, sore girl feel better".

The way he says it is enough to make you feel your heart beat between your legs.

It's nothing new. Your hormones have always had a nasty habit of kicking your libido up more than a few notches whenever it was your time of the month. But this was new territory for the both of you. As much as you would have liked to in the past, you never let Steve get this far before, never acting on the urge to have him be the one to pleasure you while you bled. You usually saw to that persistent ache on your own, always in private and in the shower without Steve's involvement.

And while it was him who insisted on 'helping' you today, part of you couldn’t stop worrying if he'd really desire you as you are right now. If maybe his sweet intentions to make you feel better had gotten the best of him.

All of that and more swarming thoughts had you questioning if maybe letting him get this far was a mistake. If maybe you ought to stop him now before it’s too late, your mind becoming a winding spiral of uncertainty but that was until you felt it – an unmistakable firmness brushing against your hip while Steve helped you out of your clothes.

It made your cheeks burn hot to know that Steve’s bulge had turned swollen and hard because of you, contained behind his boxers for the time being but still very evident as he tenderly laid you down on your back again, effectively quietening some of the doubts that howled sonorously inside your head.

It makes your knees tremble next when he places his large hands on each one, gently encouraging you to let him pull them apart and see what lies between your legs.

To you, letting your legs come apart for him feels too much like you’re stepping off the steepest ledge and plummeting into a freefall. Your heart shoots up out of your ribcage and into your narrow throat, your eyes squeezing shut because you can't handle watching how your boyfriend will react.

Your weak, jelly knees make it all the easier for him to peel them apart and once he does, the blood in your veins freezes over when all that elapses is silence. Not one single word out of Steve.

Each second ticks by as painfully as the last, like scraping bone until you try to clamp your legs shut once again but Steve's too quick for you, keeping your legs pried open with his hands placed firmly on your inner thighs.

"Oh sweetheart...", is all you hear him utter, a deep, raspy rumble that curls up and out of his throat like a lazy tendril of smoke. “Just needed a moment to really look at you, pretty thing”

You make a noise too, somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup when you feel his course fingers graze your bloody folds. It's enough to make you force one eye open as he pulls them apart to observe the bleeding between your legs.

Carefully you read every little expression that dawns on his face, relieved when you notice that Steve doesn't wince. He doesn't flinch. And he doesn't turn away from the sight of your blood, completely unblinking and focused. Maybe even a little enamored if you were to guess by the way his lips lift up into another smile.

You feel it’s safe enough to ease both eyes open now and fix them on Steve as he watches you quietly and closely back. This time his silence has the opposite effect on you. Instead of frigid, piercing worry, you shudder warmly with sunny excitement while he explores you.

His gaze descends the length of your body to find a moderate amount of blood on your inner thighs. You know because you can feel the warm, thick stains cooling on your skin, smudged there like wine stains and brush strokes painting your body. It’s what pulls his focus first, his eyes lingering there before they roam between your puffy folds and over to your hole. There he finds you leaking with a glossy crimson mix of blood and slick. Bringing his face closer to it, he's able to tell that your scent's different now too. Sharper. More coppery underneath your usual soft musk. The way his mouth pulls up into a broader smile tells you that he likes it just as much.

"Can't believe we didn't try this sooner", he tells you playfully with a waggle of his eyebrows though you know he's being very sincere as you both recall all the times you’d laid in bed and in pain whenever you were menstruating.

Out of habit you very nearly ask him a fourth time if he's absolutely certain he wants to be intimate with you while you're bleeding but you’re able to stop abruptly before you can get the question past your lips, suddenly hit with a much-needed wave of clarity.

This was Steve. A man no stranger to a little blood. Be it a split lip, a blackened eye or a broken nose among other bones. The same Steve who took a bite out of a writhing demobat and spit its filthy viscera out at his dirty feet, its thick blood tainting his pearly teeth with an angry snarling red.

He's never cowered at the sight of blood before. So why would he start now? why would he when it means getting to be with you in a whole new way? when it means getting to make love to you and give you some much needed relief?

"Looks like my girl's ready now", he winks at you knowingly.

You can feel the pure magnetism practically radiating off of him like puffs of hot steam, shedding his boxers off quickly to join you in the nude. Watching his erection spring free and thwack against his lower stomach makes your tummy flutter and flip especially when you notice the splash of precum it leaves behind on his blushing skin.  

He wanted you, very much and there was no way to deny it, making you feel both eager and a little silly about how you'd fussed earlier so self-consciously.

It made you feel sexy again too. Desirable during a time you didn't consider yourself as such. With your confidence sprouting again your legs make more space for him, inviting him closer before your ankles lock in place behind the small of Steve's back. His rigid shaft settles snugly between your bloody folds as he teases you by rubbing the slick, spongy head of his cock against your swollen clit. He’s satisfied when he gently pulls whine after pretty whine out of you like unravelling a delicate flower bud by hand, petal by petal gently tugged open to reveal the beautiful blossom lying inside.

"Steve?"

"Yeah? this making you feel good?", he looks back up to search your face attentively.

"Can't you tell?", you roll your hips with a giggle, your clit catching on his tip and shaft perfectly though still not enough to quell your cramps and satisfy you.

"I want you to put it inside now. Please"

More than happy to oblige Steve smiles as he reaches between your bodies so he can guide his cock towards your waiting hole. You feel it first when it nudges at your entrance and you hold your breath as you always do when Steve begins to work his cock inside you, the thick tip of it making your hole give way and stretch until it's just about wide enough to let him pop inside.

For Steve It's a whirlpool of gooey warmth and buttery smoothness as he slowly feeds every veiny, throbbing inch inside you. Your silky walls stretch into the familiar shape of his cock, sucking him in and wrapping around him tight like ribbon.

You can't lie, as good as it feels, you can't quite shake one last whispering concern about how it'll look when he pulls back enough to see his cock all red with you – who wouldn’t be worried about that?

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you have a look for yourself, a cold chill spilling down your spine because it's exactly as you feared it would look. A generous coating of deep, dark syrupy red drips from Steve’s pale length but before you can attempt to convince him to please look literally anywhere else while he fucks you, you're pressed deeper back into the mattress as he leans forward to lightly pin you back in place.

"It's okay, baby. 'Can see you getting in your head again", he whispers soothingly, so close his lips brush yours.

"You need to understand that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, okay? you feel how fucking hard I am for you? it's all because of you. Now are you gonna be good for me and let me take care of you?"

For a moment, all you can do is blink back at him like you’re coming out of a daze.

The fuzz of his sweat matted chest hair tickles your nipples when you manage to nod back with a soft 'yes’. Now that your nerves have been settled for good, he leans down to let his tongue lap inside your mouth again, so gentle yet somehow still so ravenous. The kind of kiss that screams how much he wants you.

There's no more room for any doubt to encroach your mind again like a violent thunderstorm. It's clear Steve doesn't think the sight of you both connected like this is gruesome. He slips inside and out with ease and excitement, his cock gliding against your walls in a way that starts to make your head spin in the most delightful way.

"That’s my girl. Nothing better than having a sweet thing like you wrapped around my cock"

And that's how he starts to fuck you. Slow and deep. Push and pull. Your breath becoming shorter. Your eyes staring into his with longing as he begins to fuck into you more firmly when he thinks you’re ready for it, in every spot you cry out for it.

The cramps that plagued you for most of the day are practically being wrung out of your overwhelmed body, a much more pleasurable, pulsing ache taking its place instead. The sticky slap of your bodies meeting echoes within the confines of your shared bedroom, gasps and moans winding around each other like creeping vines as you climb further and further towards the peak of pleasure.

It’s a slower climb for Steve and that’s only because he’s desperately trying to maximize your pleasure before he can even think of his own climax and spilling into you. Your heels stay fixed behind his back, nudging at his spine and your teeth sink into his shoulder which while both a little uncomfortable, he wouldn’t dare dream of asking you to stop, not when the signs of your impending orgasm begin to shadow your face.

Steve delights in watching you trying to fight it off but fail to do so pitifully. Face contorting with arousal, slurring your words as you cry out his name, garbling as the smallest trail of drool leaks out the corner of your mouth. He chuckles into your neck when you fail to keep your eyes from rolling back too, hissing happily when he feels the heat of your nails raking at his biceps and back.

When you cum on Steve’s blood splattered cock your body turns electric, sparks and bolts erupting just like fireworks beneath the thin layer of your soft skin. All the throbbing, all the spasming waves of pain and soreness – gone. Driven out of your writhing body with pang after pang of pleasure, your clit fat and twitching uncontrollably between your legs.

He fucks you through it and when it begins to verge on too much, you will yourself to take the many thrusts that follow as Steve continues to hump into you, taking it like the good girl he keeps moaning that you are, mumbling nearly incoherently into your skin.

“Just a little longer – I know ,baby, I know. Just keep taking me like that, just a little more – yes…yes…yes", Steve grunts before his body starts to quake, shuddering through his own orgasm, shooting hot and sticky all he has to give you deep inside.

The feeling of it all collecting within your pussy is unlike any other that you’ve felt before and you can’t help but linger on it – exactly what your body had been crying out for all day. It’s made easier too because Steve’s body lay draped over yours, the weight of him on top of you is comforting. He keeps you plugged up nice and full with his softening cock still inside you, panting while you gently stroke the damp nape of his neck until you’re able to catch your own breath and thank him with words.

When Steve does finally unsheathe himself from you, he does so a little reluctantly, peppering you with kisses, making silly comments about how he’d rather just stay in you all night than part, have you cockwarm him till the sun comes up. You snicker in response and roll your eyes back at him playfully, eventually coaxing him and convincing him to pull out.

Slowly your combined discharge strings from his cock to your folds and pearly clit like a spider’s web, unable to tell where yours begin and his end. You still feel sensitive there too, the little bundle yet to cease throbbing and swell down after grazing perfectly against the thick hair that grew from Steve’s bellybutton to the base of his scarlet cock.

As more of it begins to leak out of you, you both look on curiously, mesmerized by its deep shade of rosy pink – such a pretty thing made by the two of you.

No longer bashful about the whole thing, you swipe a finger between your folds and closely observe the secretion on the pad of your index finger, wondering why, just an hour ago, you’d been so afraid of giving yourself to Steve like this.

Sure, it’s a mess but you don’t feel the least bit unclean. All the sweat and cum and blood – you're glad for it in fact, turning onto your side and resting your cheek on Steve's chest once he repositions onto his back, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

"Better?", he asks expectantly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Better than better" you assure him, basking in the afterglow with an ever so satiated smile gracing your lips.

Steve’s got one just like it shaping his plump pink lips, placing his hands behind his head as he stares dreamily at the ceiling.

"So, six more days huh? I can get used to this"

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

nanami kento does not consider himself a selfish man.

or, at the very least, he tries not to be. he lives his life with careful moderation—his money, his time, his affections, all portioned out in measured amounts. he makes rational choices, follows reason rather than impulse, and never allows himself to take more than what he deserves.

and yet, he wonders if he has been selfish with you.

it happens in quiet moments, in the stretch of time between work and home, in the silence of his own thoughts when he watches you move through life with a kind of weightlessness he can’t remember ever having. he sees it in the way you smile at the world like it hasn’t disappointed you yet, the way you move through crowded streets without the slightest trace of exhaustion, the way you speak with excitement about things he long stopped caring for.

you are all brightness, all warmth, all untamed energy.

and he—he is the opposite.

he prefers quiet spaces and stillness, the kind that lets him breathe without feeling the pressure of the world creeping in. he wakes each morning out of habit rather than anticipation, drinking his coffee in contemplative silence while you hum some song he doesn’t know, twirling around the kitchen in one of his oversized shirts, looking at him like he is something more than just a man getting through another day.

sometimes, he wonders if he is keeping you tethered to something you are not meant to be part of.

but then you turn to him, and everything in his mind stills.

the small, peaceful smile on your face as you ramble about your plans for the day is enough to make him forget his own plans, although they probably weren’t as exciting as yours. and then, you are suddenly so close to him, just content on standing by his side and beam down at him while you sip on your tea and his arm reflexively wraps around your hips, craving your warmth.

it’s easy to get distracted with you because you are so distracting, you consume all of his thoughts and all of his emotions and sometimes, nanami is fine with it.

other times, he is instead consumed by his own doubts and you, the angel itself, are already there to save him from drowning.

you’re straddling his lap, the weight of you grounding him, your body soft where he is firm, warm where he is cool. you cup his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones, your gaze searching, steady, knowing.

“you’re frowning again,” you murmur, voice hushed.

his hands rest against your waist, hesitating before settling. “am i?”

“mm.” your fingers trace along his jaw, featherlight. “you’re always thinking.”

he exhales. you know him too well for him to argue.

your touch lingers, drifting down to his collar, to the half-undone buttons of his shirt. “is it me?”

“no,” he says, too quickly, and your lips curl, amused but gentle.

“then what?”

he should lie. brush it off, let the moment pass. but your eyes are patient, waiting, and for some reason, it makes him falter.

“i wonder, sometimes, if i’m the best choice for you,” he admits.

you pause. your fingertips still against his skin, just for a moment. then, slowly, you tilt your head, considering, before a soft laugh slips past your lips.

“that’s a funny thing to say,” you muse.

he frowns. “i don’t see how.”

your arms loop around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair, twisting strands absently. “because if you weren’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

he wants to argue. tell you that people make choices all the time that they later regret. that one day, you might wake up and realize you deserve something more, someone more.

but then you lean in, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his, and everything else fades.

“i know what i want,” you say, quiet but certain. “i know who i want.”

your hands slide down, fingertips slipping beneath the open fabric of his shirt, tracing over his skin, slow and deliberate. he feels the warmth of your palms against his chest, the lazy drag of your touch, the way you press yourself just a little closer.

“and if you’re going to worry about anything,” you murmur, lips brushing against his jaw, “it should be about how i’m trying to seduce you, and you’re too busy thinking to notice.”

his breath hitches, and you smile against his skin.

“unless,” you say, softer now, more teasing, “you’d rather keep worrying?”

he doesn’t respond right away. he is too caught up in you, in the feeling of your body pressed against his, in the way your hands map the shape of him like you are memorizing him all over again.

there is a moment—a single, fleeting moment—where he thinks he should stop this. that he should pull away, put space between you, remind himself why this is a bad idea, why you deserve more.

but then you kiss him, and all those thoughts unravel.

he lets himself sink into you, into the way your lips move against his, the way your fingers curl into his shirt, the way you make him forget, just for a while, that he ever doubted this at all.

because the truth is—he cannot stay away from you.

no matter how different you are, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that this is a mistake, no matter how much the logical part of him insists that you would be better off with someone else—he is selfish when it comes to you.

and maybe, just maybe, you already know that.

[potatoplace]

start a war

Azriel x Archeron!Mate!Reader

ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | AO3 Link

Summary: based on this ask - title from Jennie's 'start a war'. Azriel is very protective of you, but you've never been bothered by it. So when your sons are protective of you as well? You're nothing but grateful for their support.

Warnings: some bullying/misogynistic shit from the Illyrians, mentions of wing clipping, I don't think there's anything else

Words: ~2.3k

Author's Note: @romantasyreader28 I'm so happy to finally have this request done for you!! Writing protective Az was sooo fun, I really hope you like it! ☺️🫶

18+ only pls

🤍💙💖💙🤍

Being the second-eldest daughter of the Archeron family, and twin to Nesta, had been tough.

But nothing had been so difficult as being mated to the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, Azriel.

Not that you didn’t love and cherish the male with all of your heart, that wasn’t what was difficult about it.

It was being a former-human-turned-high-fae that was difficult, at least when you were in Illyria with your mate. Which happened to be nearly all the time, now that you lived here with Azriel and your soon-to-be-born twin boys.

As much as Azriel detested the ways of his people, he couldn’t bear to see his children outcast by them entirely. So when he had asked you if you would be comfortable moving here, ready for you to reject the notion entirely? You had said yes, even knowing how difficult it could be.

But your Archeron upbringing had trained you well for it, right?

Wrong.

While Nesta had occasionally been cold to you, your father distant, and your mother downright abusive, your upbringing had been nothing to the scorn and hatred shown to you by the Illyrian people, for having dared to be mated to one of them.

Azriel had flown you to the mountains when you had been only three months pregnant, to have the two of you find a suitable plot of land to build your house - well, for Azriel to build your new home. He had fussed over you the whole way, his shadows wrapped around you everywhere that he wasn’t touching, making sure there was no chance that you could be dropped or having any sort of harm befall you on your journey.

You had merely giggled at his overprotective behavior, which had been present since your courting and mateship, but now that you were pregnant? He had gone overboard with it, sending at least five shadows with you everywhere you went that he didn’t, an increase from the usual two. You found it cute, how he just wanted to keep you safe at all times.

The entire time you were in Windhaven, no Illyrians approached the two of you, instead staying a safe distance away, their scornful eyes watching the pair of you closely. You had hardly noticed it at the time, but four months later, when Azriel had finished the cabin and the two of you had moved in?

It was all you could notice.

You were eight months pregnant when you moved in, and from what you had heard of Azriel’s young adulthood, pregnancy was a blessing to be celebrated by the entire war camp.

But no one came to visit with well wishes, not that you’d expected them to, and yet… You had hoped you might be accepted by your new neighbors, at least on a surface level.

You and Azriel made do with your situation, celebrating the birth of your twin boys with the company of your family, one of the happiest days of your life.

When you looked at Azriel, and then to the twin boys sleeping in your arms, you knew that whatever hardships that may come would be worth every second of joy you would have.

🤍💙💖💙🤍

Fifteen. Your twins, Kai and Keiran, were fifteen years of age now, and had already been training in the rings with the older males for five years, giving you plenty to use you cauldron-gifted powers on.

You hadn’t been given much in the way of sheer power by the mythical force, but what you had been gifted was healing magic, which was more than enough for you.

Initially, you had hoped that your ability to heal wounds would have you accepted by the camp, but it actually had the opposite effect. Your sons, and any that you healed, were seen as weak for needing their injuries mended beyond stopping death’s cold hands from taking them.

Still, you healed the younger females in secret, knowing that even with Rhys attempting to change the thinking of the Illyrian people, their lives were hard enough as it was without having scraped hands and knees.

At the current moment, you were washing laundry in the slow paced stream on the edge of the camp, a few paces away from the other mothers and daughters of the camp. They had been staring at you scornfully the entire time you’d been crouched on the bank, scrubbing at the endless pile of Illyrian leathers that your sons went through over the last week.

It wasn’t until you saw the shadow of a pair of wings covering you that you turned around, coming face to face with Devlon.

“Can I help you, Lord?” You asked politely as you set down the leathers, staring up at the male that only came around to make your life difficult.

“Perhaps,” He said coolly, staring down at you with disdain. “It appears that one of the young girls who had her wings clipped last night also seems to have had them healed soon after, leaving her able to fly. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

You blinked up at him, forcing yourself to look confused. “No, I don’t know anything about that, Lord. Perhaps your warriors weren’t able to cut the tendons properly? Also… Isn’t wing clipping forbidden under the High Lord?”

Devlon seethed down at you, raising a hand in the air as if he would strike you.

“Is there a problem here, Lord?”

Kai appeared at your side not a moment later, one wing curling protectively around your back.

“It would be awfully rude of you to strike our mother when you have no proof of wrongdoing,” Keiran said as he stood at your other side, copying his twin’s pose, arms crossed over his puffed out chest.

“Especially if High Lord Rhysand were to find out about the supposed wing clipping that you just asked her about,” Kai added cheerily.

Devlon let out a hiss of annoyance and stormed away from the three of you, and you let out a sigh of relief. You may not be as afraid of him as you once were, but you were still well aware of the threat that the male posed to you.

“Thank you, boys,” you said, giving them each a kiss on the cheek when you finally stood. “What ever would I do without you?” You asked sweetly as you looked at them, carbon copies of their father.

“You’d threaten him all the same, momma,” Kai remarked as he gave you a quick hug. “We should probably get back…”

Keiran leaned in to give you a longer squeeze, pressing your cheeks together as he had since he was a babe. “We’ll see you for dinner, yeah?”

“I’d better,” you warned as they began walking away, wings fluttering lightly in the breeze. “You boys be good!” You yelled after them when they started running back towards the training rings, shaking your head at them.

🤍💙💖💙🤍

Eight months later, Winter Solstice was upon you. This year, your sisters and their mates came to stay in Rhys’s cabin, just a short winnow away from Windhaven. That meant all of you would be attending the festivities in Windhaven, something Rhys had been attempting to do every other year since your boys were born, in hopes of improving relations between the Dreamers and the Illyrians.

Early in the afternoon, though, Azriel was called away to the Hewn City, Keir had caused a scene when Rhys had offered only a short visit from him and Feyre tonight.

You spent the time before your sisters and their mates showed up preparing your boys, dressing them up nicely in fine leathers that you and Azriel had spent the last few months making in secret.

After all, this was the first year that your boys had crushes! You wanted them to look their best for Solstice!

And this morning while you were getting ready, Azriel had surprised you with a gorgeous fur gown that he had made for you in secret as well, perfect for keeping you warm in the snowy Illyrian mountains. He had  lowered the gown over your head, then shoulders carefully before guiding your arms through the sleeves, his touch so gentle it brought tears to your eyes. It was only after he had gotten the dress in place that you pulled him in for a kiss, full of all the love you felt for your sweet, dedicated mate.

“Do you like it?” He had asked lowly when you pulled away, his lovely hazel eyes searching yours.

“Azzie, I love it! How long were you working on it?” You’d asked, marveling at the perfect stitching, the white fur trim lining the edges of the tan dress, and of course the sleeves that were fitted to the elbow before billowing out past the edge of your fingers.

“Oh, a few minutes here, a few minutes there,” Azriel had said softly, smiling at your laugh before pulling you in for another kiss, this one more heated.

It was then that Kai and Keiran had burst through your door in search of their outfits, ‘ewing’ when they saw the two of you break away from each other.

That had been eight hours ago, just before Azriel had been called away, and there was still no sign of them. The festivities had already begun, the bonfire already lit - your favorite moment to share with Azriel.

You sighed and poured yourself a glass of wine before wandering over to a bench, not wanting to disturb your sisters at the moment, who were busy canoodling with their own mates. How you wished yours would return at this moment, bringing happiness and warm to this otherwise frigid nights.

Already, you could see the disapproving stares of those around you, your family excluded. It was only a matter of time before the whispers started…

In your fifteen years in Windhaven, you had only been to one Illyrian celebration without Azriel by your side, a harvest festival that your boys had begged to go to, even though their father had been away on the Continent that week. After that, well… You always made sure that Azriel or your boys were with you, if you went to any festivities.

Tonight though, you would deal with the whispers, the stares, the leering males who took the opportunity while Azriel wasn’t around to threaten them over it.

“She looks so pathetic over there, her mate can’t even bother to spend Solstice with her,” one female whispered loudly, smiling at you when you made eye contact with her.

“I bet he’s off fucking someone else,” the person next to her tittered.

“I know I wouldn’t be able to stand touching her,” one of the men nearby said.

“I don’t know, I feel like she’s got to be a freak to keep that bastard entertained,” one of the males chortled, his eyes greedily looking over you.

You were just about to give up and go home, having stood from your spot on the bench, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, wings curling around your body next.

You looked up and back, a grin breaking over your face when you saw Azriel’s gorgeous face hovering over yours. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hello, my love,” Azriel murmured before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. After parting from you, he spun you in his arms, his eyes taking on a more serious look. “How has your Solstice been?”

“Oh… You know…” You trailed off, not truly wanting to discuss the cruel words that had been whispered in your presence.

“Who do I need to take care of?” Azriel growled as he pulled you closer, eyes looking over his wings to see who might have hurt you.

You buried your face in his chest, taking in a deep breath of night chilled mist and cedar before you said the name, directly into his leathers.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t quite hear that.”

You sighed, and pulled back from his chest to look in his eyes. “Torin, straight in front of you. And… Everyone he’s standing with.”

Azriel growled again, his eyes locked on the male for a minute before turning back to you. “Are you alright? Do you want to go home?”

“I’m alright, now that you’re here,” you replied with a smile.

Az nodded. “Good. Do you mind if I go talk some sense into them?”

Your smile only grew. “No, go right ahead my love.”

He unfurled his wings from around you, and squeezed you one last time before you stepped to the side, turning to watch as he stomped furiously through the snow over to the group, for once grateful that he hadn’t taken the time to remove his knife belts.

Maybe they would finally learn to stop shit talking you, at least within earshot of you.

In a moment, Azriel had the male pinned to the floor by his neck, one of his boots holding a wing to the ground, painfully if the male’s whimpers had anything to say about the situation.

“The next time I hear that you’ve talking about my wife, I will take you into the ring for your last time, am I understood?” He asked, tightening his hold when Torin didn’t answer. “Am I understood?!”

Torin tapped on Azriel’s arm, nodding as much as he could in his hold. “Yes, yes,” he croaked out once Az let him go, straightening out and leveling the rest of his group with a glare.

“That goes for the rest of you, do you understand?”

The group nodded, wide eyed as they murmured yes, none of them daring to help Torin stand from where he was still laying on the ground, clutching at his throat.

“Good! Now, my sweet mate, would you join me for a dance?” Azriel asked after he turned from the group, his hazel eyes soft and caring once again.

“I’d love nothing more, mate,” you replied, letting Azriel lead you over to the bonfire, where you could see your sisters and mates dancing among the others.

🤍💙💖💙🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

[cvnt4him]

mi mi.. first time sending a req but i yearn for izu putting reader in a headlock and fucking himself stupid. sprinkle sprinkle, lots of luv ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧

you got it<3

Izuku had been pent up for a bit, yearning for your touch. He needed you to make him feel better, his hand was no longer enough for him. He was just so busy that he never had the time to really enjoy what he was doing.

He'd finally gotten some time alone with you, and boy did he plan to make it count for something. Of course you didn't object, you wanted to make him feel better; to relieve him of his stress and other worries.

Izuku held you down in your bed, one hand on your hips the other on your throat. He was being quite aggressive but goodness you didn't mind. It was sexy to see this side of him, that terribly feral side. Where he acted like a wild animal who hadn't eaten in ages.

He roughly grinded his hips into yours groaning deeply with a rasp in his tone, he would pause his passion filled kisses for only a second just to breath or tell you how much he loved you. How much he needed you, how much he wanted to feel you squeeze around his cock.

The thought alone had his self control fleeting. He heard a mewl leave you as he moved his attention to your neck he knew you were sensitive there, nibbling lightly and sucking harshly hickeys onto your skin.

“ oh izuku..”

Your voice so soft and sweet silently pleading for him. It drove him crazy, what more could he have done besides rip all of your clothes off. He moves with haste, almost as if taken over by lust completely. Izuku flipped you over with ease as if you were nothing to him, pushing your back down into an aching arch a harsh slap coming to your ass warning a loud gasp from you.

Your eyes widened and your skin stung with pain. However you couldn't deny the butterflies that littered your stomach, the way your heart fluttered at the sudden excitement of this enticing side of your normally gentle and sweet boyfriend, your cunt clenched at the thought of how rough he might be with you tonight. Maybe you'd actually pass out from overwhelming pleasure....

An hour later you were a mess. Cheeks slick with tears, drool dripping down your lips past your chin and down your neck. Izuku had his fingers in your mouth while he had you in a headlock, his arm tightly around your neck as he grunted with each painful and sharp thrusts he delivered.

“ fucking hell.. take this fucking dick— take it.”

You couldn't speak, your voice raspy and hoarse eyes crossing and failing to focus on anything as you let him fuck you into oblivion. He was sweaty and so were you, it was terribly hot and him holding you so close skin against skin making you both even sweatier.

Your head was spinning and you were in pain. Izuku never pushed you past your limit but boy was tonight different, many different positions and many many orgasms. Izuku knew when to stop, he knew if you needed him to he would....right?

“ oh- oh yeah baby, so fuckin' good at this..”

You could hear his breath quicken, his pace fastening even more. He was in a daze dead set on emptying his tightening balls inside of you once more. His orgasms were always heightened, his hyperspermia had him cumming for a long time. And it was so much too, alot to take inside. But he knew you'd take it for him you were too fucked dumb to even protest.

A low groan left him, whines proceeding to leak from his mouth as well as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sweat dripping down his forehead past his eyebrow and onto his forearm around your neck, he kissed your head lightly and had his thumb rubbing your head too. It was sweet honestly, but you couldn't bother to think about it your cunt spasming around his cock and milking his cum out of him all over again.

“ gon... gonna cum...”

Izukus voice was low as it was quivering and you could hear whines leaving him. They grew louder as his hips slapped against your ass rougher, your hands squeezed around his forearm feeling his veins and the way he flexed around your neck causing you to feel lightheaded.

His orgasm came crashing onto him the way your pussy fluttered had him moaning in your ear, his hot breath was all over your body making your sweaty body even more moist. You felt his tight grip on your neck cease to exist a gush of air invading your lungs. The sharp intake of a ton of air making you choke on it, coughing and slouching forward to catch your breath.

As izuku came back to his senses it worried him, had he gone too far? Maybe he was a bit too rough with you....he could've let up a bit for you. He had put you through the ringer for a while.

“ hey, you okay? did I go too far..”

Those wide eyes of his carrying terrible guilt behind them. He rubbed circles on your back while you relaxed to his touch. You lean back against him his naked body against yours as you lay on him. He sighs and just lies down, you were both sweaty and the air you had forgotten existed felt so sweet in your moist bodies. You were pretty messy, leaking a heavy amount of his cum you figured this was either his problem or one for later.

Izuku took care of it of course.

yeah I need to do better...

[corroded-hellfire]

I was just thinking of them like moving house and there being boxes all over the place as they’re packing. Reader getting a little stressed, walking into the living room and finding Eddie sat in the floor with Eliza propped up on his knees instead of finishing off whatever task he was meant to be doing. Reader gets annoyed, he senses there’s something more than moving day stress going on. He stands and Eliza reaches for reader and Eddie holds the pair of them and asks her what’s really upsetting her, reader admits she’s feeling sad about leaving their current place because it was Eliza’s first home. She apologises and says he probably thinks she’s silly. He says of course not, it’s sweet…she’s *wrong* but it’s sweet. Reader is confused and then Eddie clarifies by holding her close and so lying his fingers across her stomach saying “THIS was her first home” Or something like that 😆 IDK the thought of Eddie being so cute about it made me all emotional 🥹 - Requested by the lovely @joejoequinnquinn

I know you requested this so long ago but I knew exactly where it needed to come in this story! I hope you like this sweet little blurb 💕

Warnings: pregnant!reader

Words: 1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can.”

Eddie grins as Eliza’s small hands smack against his. Ever since one of her preschool classmates introduced her to this game, it’s all she’s wanted to play.

“Roll it.”

Eddie copies her arm motions of rotating them around each other. She adjusts how she’s perched on his lap as the two of them sit on the floor.

“Pat it.”

Both of them tap their fingers against the palm of their other hand. The boxes that your husband’s back is resting against shift from his movements.

“Mark it with a ‘B.’ Put it in the oven for baby and me!”

“Yay!” Eddie cheers, taking her hands in his and shaking them back and forth.

“Again?” Eliza asks, looking up at him with those large brown eyes that he uses on you all the time.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer before you walk into the room and sigh when you see them lounging amongst a pile of boxes.

“I thought you guys were packing up the bookshelf,” you say, rubbing your hand across your forehead in frustration.

Eddie lifts his arm and points in the general direction behind the boxes at his back.

“All done,” he says.

“All done!” Eliza echoes.

Your hands come to rest on your hips as you look around the mostly packed-up living room. Boxes are scattered around the space, a mountain of them particularly bunched up behind the couch. They’re all labeled with black permanent marker, the handwriting from one of the five people in the house who have been hard at work on packing. Eliza’s scrawl might be the hardest to decipher but it’s the easiest way for her to contribute when she begs to help.

“Well, what about the DVDs in the entertainment unit? Or the video games?”

Eddie’s brow furrows as he takes in your hunched shoulders and tense posture. Gently, he moves Eliza off of his lap and pushes himself to his feet. A strained groan escapes his lips as his back cracks from the movement. He steps in your direction but Eliza reaches you first and lifts her arms.

You give your daughter a strained smile as you bend down to scoop her up. It’s harder for her to sit comfortably in your arms with your bump growing more and more. In fact, you feel bad that soon you’re not going to be able to lift Eliza at all due to your third trimester creeping closer.

Eddie reaches the two of you and tilts his head as he looks at you. You don’t return his gaze, your annoyance growing as you feel like you’re being inspected.

“What?” you snap.

Eliza frowns and Eddie sighs at the terse tone.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, taking another step closer. He rests one hand on your back and the other on Eliza’s. “What’s going on, hmm? What’s really bothering you? I know it’s not the movies or games.”

Tears flood your eyes and you do your best to swallow them down. You rest your head against Eliza’s and take a deep breath.

“I’m just sad,” you admit in a whisper.

The little girl wraps her arms around your neck and the kind act causes tears to fall.

“Why sad, Mama?” she asks in a soft voice.

You lift your head and press a kiss to her curls.

“Sad leaving this house,” you say, looking over and finally meeting your husband’s eye. He gives you a sympathetic smile. “There are a lot of good memories here. Got married while we lived here. Liza’s first home.”

“Aw, baby.” Eddie gently cups the back of your head and presses a kiss against your forehead. “I know, it’s hard. We’ve had really great times here. And we’re going to have really great times at the new house.”

You nod and sniffle, causing Eliza to gently wipe your cheeks with one of her small hands. She kisses right in front of your ear and you give her a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry,” you say and shake your head. “You must think it’s silly.”

“Hey, hey, no.” Eddie’s voice is strong as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s not silly at all. In fact, I think it’s really sweet. You’re wrong about it being Eliza’s first home, though.”

“What?” you ask as Eliza questions, “Huh?”

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and lowers his hand to lightly rub across your bump.

“This was her first home. Just like it’s the twins’ first home now. And you’ve made such a nice, warm place for all of them.”

You give him a watery smile.

“Right?” Eddie gives you a bigger smile in return, hoping to lift your spirits a little more.

“R-Right,” you admit with a nod.

Eliza reaches up and starts rubbing from your forehead onto the top of your head. It takes you a moment to realize what she’s doing; she’s trying to soothe you the same way you soothe her by smoothing her curls back and away from her face.

“And we found such a nice house,” Eddie continues. “Right, Lize?”

“Yeah!” she cheers. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief at her excitement because the four-year-old was not a happy camper when she first learned you’re all moving. “It’s so big!”

“Well, it’s gotta be!” Eddie pokes her tummy. “There’s gonna be five of you kids!”

“Oh boy,” you exclaim, still finding it hard to believe that you’re going to be a family of seven.

“My room has a pretty window!” Eliza reminds you.

“I know! You get to look at the big backyard,” you reply.

“And I don’t have to share a bathroom with my stinky brothers!”

Both you and Eddie laugh at that. The master bedroom, Eliza’s, and the twins’ room are all upstairs in the new house while Ryan and Luke are downstairs—by their choice, sort of. They actively pleaded to have the lone two rooms farthest from their parents. It made you both immediately suspicious but since you need to keep the youngest ones closest to you, you had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “They can keep their own smelly bathroom down there clean, right?”

“Right!” She nods her head. “Is gonna be good, Mama.”

“I know it is, sweet pea.”

“So,” Eddie says, clapping his hands together, “should we box up those movies?”

Eliza holds a hand out in his direction.

“Marker, please.”

[babsf1world]

THE BEST SOLUTION.

pairing. Charles Leclerc x fem! Red Bull driver! reader

synopsis. After your crash with Charles, he finds the best solution how to calm you down.

warnings. cliché, me 🤝🏻 writing situationships, nothing just an inchident on the track, reader insulting Charles.

BEING A WOMAN IN THE HIGH-STAKES WORLD OF FORMULA ONE WAS ALREADY A BIG DEAL. The pressure to perform and prove yourself among the best drivers in the world was intense. But having something between friendships and relationship with Ferrari’s star, Charles Leclerc, made things even more complicated. You were sure you were more than ordinary friends, but it didn’t feel like relationship. The risks were high, it could cause problems for both your career and personal life.

Things got even trickier because you were also fighting for the championship with McLaren’s Norris. The two of you were not just competitors on the track; you were fierce rivals, both trying to win the ultimate prize. Every race felt like a fight, and every point counted.

This season felt like a rollercoaster for you. Winning a race made you feel on top of the world, but coming in second felt like a huge defeat. Many people started to dislike you because of your success. Maybe they weren't okay with a woman winning. The negative comments and criticism were hard to deal with, but you stayed focused on your goals.

You were disliked by many, but touched by none. The loneliness and isolation that came with your success were tough, but you found comfort in your situationship with Charles. The stolen moments, whispered conversations, and shared pressures made your bond even more special.

You were winning, you were losing, but never crashing. Your consistency on the track was unmatched, and you had earned the respect of many, even those who were initially skeptical of a woman dominating the world of Formula One.

Well, at least until Ferrari car sent you off track a few laps before the end. It was an intense race, and the competition was fierce. Your tires touched, and in an instant, everything changed. The impact was sudden and violent, sending you spinning off the track and out of contention for the podium.

Charles sent you off track.

Because his hand slipped.

The disbelief and betrayal hit you harder than the crash itself. How could this have happened? Charles, the person you had trusted and shared so much with, had made a mistake that cost you dearly. The disappointment and anger welled up inside you.

Of course, it was ruled an incident. Maybe you got too close, and in the high-speed chaos of the race, such things happen. But from your perspective, you saw it differently.

"Charles!" you shouted after him as you saw him walking into his driver’s room. The adrenaline from the race was still coursing through your veins, fueling your anger. You were already changed, but he wasn't. He was still sticky from all the champagne, holding his trophy for 3rd place. The contrast between your composed appearance and his celebratory one only heightened your frustration.

Your anger had been simmering since you jumped out of the car, and now it was about to boil over. The memory of the race replayed in your mind, each detail more infuriating than the last. The disbelief and betrayal you felt were like a knot in your stomach, and you had to confront him. You had every right to be mad, regardless of what situation was between you.

You slipped through the space as he was closing the door, determined to confront him. He didn't even look at you, and maybe that was what made you even angrier. "Charles, what the fuck was that!" you shouted, your voice echoing in the small room.

"I already said it was an incident!" he tried to defend himself, his voice rising in frustration. Yeah, it was an incident, an incident that might cost you the championship.

"Because your hand slipped?" you asked sarcastically, your anger boiling over. "Your hand can't just slip, you fucker!" The words came out in a torrent, each one fueled by the betrayal and frustration you felt. You hurled every swear word you knew at him, but he didn't seem to care about the insults.

He just looked into your eyes, the corner of his lips forming into a smile with every swear word you hurled at him. The sight of his relaxed face only fueled your anger further. "It might cost me my health! Or even worse, my championship!" you yelled, throwing hands.

But his expression didn't change. The calmness in his demeanor was infuriating, and it felt like he wasn't taking the gravity of the situation seriously. The frustration and betrayal you felt were overwhelming, and you needed him to understand the impact of his actions.

"Oh my god, Charles, why are you so—" Before you could even finish your sentence, he closed the distance between you and connected his lips with yours. The suddenness of the kiss took you by surprise, and for a millisecond, you wanted to push him away, to fight against the overwhelming emotions.

But then, you got lost in the moment. The intensity of the kiss, the raw emotion behind it, and the undeniable connection between you both melted away your anger. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in that small room, caught in a whirlwind of passion and confusion.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a mix of emotions—anger, desire, betrayal, and love—all swirling together. The complexities of your situationship with Charles were laid bare, and in that moment, you realized just how much he meant to you, despite everything that had happened.

You pulled away, your breath heavy and your mind racing. The intensity of the kiss had left you reeling, and the myriad of emotions swirling inside you made it hard to think clearly. "What the fuck?" you said, your words much softer now, the anger mingling with confusion. The raw emotion in your voice betrayed the turmoil you felt inside.

"Just needed to shut you up somehow," he shrugged with a smile, his casual demeanor infuriating yet disarming at the same time. His confidence and ease only added to your frustration, but it also made your heart skip a beat. The conflicting feelings of anger and attraction made it hard to know how to react.

"Doesn't mean we are okay now," you pointed at him, crossing your arms defensively. The hurt and betrayal still lingered, and you weren't ready to let it go so easily. Your mind replayed the moment he sent you off the track, the fear and anger you felt in that split second.

"It does," he said, his voice steady and confident. The certainty in his words made your heart skip a beat, but you weren't sure if you could trust him again. His unwavering belief that everything would be fine only added to your confusion. How could he be so sure, when you felt so uncertain?

You had told yourself that maybe the championship isn't everything, but in the heat of the moment, it certainly felt like it was. The weight of the season's challenges and the pressure to perform had taken their toll on you. Winning meant everything—not just for your career, but for proving your worth in a sport that had been dominated by men for so long.

But now, standing there with Charles, his calm demeanor contrasting with your storm of emotions, you began to question if the championship was truly worth all the pain and anger. Maybe there were things more important than a trophy and a title.

[andy-wm]

Moving out, Moving in

Mission accomplished by sleight of hand?

This is just a collection of thoughts so it's probably full of holes, but it seems to me that Jimin and Jungkook always have a plan in motion.

I guess it's not surprising since they live and work in a fast paced environment in which most of their waking hours are scheduled to the max. It's not just the day to day that's planned down to the wire, their albums and tours are planned years ahead of time and coordinated with military precision.

Their lives run on plans and schedules

Random anecdote: Someone I was friendly with a couple of years ago worked on the BTS Samsung ads as a translator. She described how she was expected to be awake and ready to take calls and edit copy at literally any time of the day or night. Hybe does not sleep. There are staff all over the world, working around the clock. Time is money.

We've all heard these stories, right? So we can imagine the project/event management going on there. The place must run like a Swiss watch.

When you live like that it becomes your normal, so i have no doubt ALL the members are used to planning out their lives.

Also, when you have hardly any free time you use it carefully. If you want to do anything you have to plan and schedule it.

I'm not suggesting they project manage all these things on their own. What's the point of having an endless well of money if you can't hire people to help you make life happen the way you want it to. But I am saying they would know that if they don't plan it, it aint gonna happen.

So, back to Jikook and their plans.

Solo albums

Despite how different their solo album were in terms of musical styles and themes, their promotional materials were astonishingly similar. From colour palettes to photo styling to identical outfits they were far too similar for it to be a coincidence. In fact, if those albums had been people walking down a street they would have been couple dressing without a doubt.

Are You Sure

The travel adventures they squeezed in between deadlines and performances must have been carefully orchestrated too.

Home sweet home

And let's not forget Jungkook finding time to design, plan, and execute the building of the Itaewon house in between everything else.

They plan down to the fine details. And they also play the long game. It's how they're used to operating.

Keep that in mind as i move onto the next thought. This is the interesting bit...

Military service.

It's a reality for every able bodied man in Korea. For a group like BTS it's another thing that would have been carefully considered. Enlistment timing, yes, and every other variable they could choose: locations, divisions, roles etc.

They would have been thinking about their options for MS from the time they were eligible to enlist. Jungkook would have been acutely aware that his tattoos would prevent him from doing anything in security. But that didn't prevent him from inking up his whole arm.

So, we can assume other plans or priorities for MS existed even then.

And those plans included a major decision:

Companion enlistment.

They would have thought carefully about this, having heard all the horror stories of how it can go wrong.

Besides that, despite being dismissed as no biggie by most of the fandom it is extremely rare for idols to enlist as companions.

I did the research. There might be one other occurrence of this. Enlisting at the same time does happen (still rare) but as companions... almost never.

It meant their enlistment was even more newsworthy. They must have known it would highlight their closeness. Was that a conscious choice too?

Maybe.

Everyone, not just jikookers, knows they're inseparable now. It's proof for those who needed it that their relationship is genuine and not fan service.

If they were concerned about how their relationship was perceived i guess thats a bonus. But they coukd have just been more visible in Seoul.

So I'm still asking myself... why?

Why take the chance? Why risk the relationship? So many couples just have to deal with the MS separation, it's simply a fact of life. All the other members had to go through it alone. Jimin and Jungkook could have done it too. They spent months barely seeing each other when they were on solo schedules.

And I'm absolutely not denying they most likely wanted to be together if at all possible. But besides that, what could be gained? Its a long game, remember... so what could be their ultimate goal here?

Where will this lead?

What comes next for them?

Logically the biggest thing for any of the members one they've completed their MS, is their adult life. On a personal level it's the next step.

Nobody is naive enough to think these guys are still going to play boyfriend to the fandom. Not when Hobi our sunshine, who wouldn't even show his armpit on camera, describes the Sweet Dreams lyrics as BEST HOT SEX and then adds 'am I right?' with a smirk because he knows ARMY are all adults too (or that's the part of the fandom he's choosing to engage with).

There's going to be an expectation - or for some ARMYs a resigned acceptance - that the members will actively date, maybe settle down and have a long term partner or a family. But it's only acceptable for those who are going to date or marry a woman. It'd have to be an unknown and discreet or better yet totally secret lover if they're with any other gender.

Which brings us back to Jikook

So what might adult life look like for our lovebirds?

<<content warning: unbridled speculation>>

As a person who believes they're in a long term intimate relationship with plans for a future together, i think they'd want to share a home.

Could they share a home & future?

Imagine the absolute pandemonium that would ensue if Jimin and Jungkook suddenly paired up and set up house together. It would be wild. Possibly the most scandalous thing to ever happen to kpop. The press would roast them, carve them up, and serve the to the nation for dinner. Every conservative right wing mouthpiece would have an opinion on their morality. It would be hideous.

Unless....

Unless they didn't need to suddenly pair up because they were already living together!

Like maybe... as companion enlisted soldiers. And not just any ordinary soldiers but cream of the crop, highly commended, much adored soldiers. Soldiers who have done their nation proud together.

By enlisting together they've already bridged the possibly fatal social chasm they needed to navigate (aka rampant homophobia) if they wanted to move in together.

They ALREADY live together

They've done the hard bit.

It would be no big deal, really to continue to do so. All they'll be doing is relocating to the house in Itaewon.

And my goodness what serendipitous timing... the build was completed while they were snuggled up in their barracks so there's no awkward in between stage. They can just slide right in to their cosy new home and nobody can really say a thing.

What a cunning plan

Now before anyone yells at me of course i have no idea what their plans are. Zero. Nobody does except their trusted circle. This is entirely fabricated. But ya know what?

It's also entirely possible.

💜🏠💛