#this has been my baby for a long time now

[cloudtransprncy]

One Drink

Wonyoung X Male Reader | 1600 words.

Your girlfriend is a lightweight. Not the 4-5 drink kind—the 1 drink and she’s already pawing at you, whining for your cock, drunk off her ass and desperate to be fucked stupid in the backseat.

The restaurant buzzes with conversation and clinking glasses, the soft glow of wall sconces making everyone look better than they actually do.

Not Wonyoung, she always looks good.

Wonyoung sits across from you in a booth, her tight white top hugging her curves, dark hair swept up in a messy bun with strands framing her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the "just one drink after dinner" she promised – the one that's already empty. Now she's holding up her second drink – a margarita with salt-rimmed glass and lemon wedge – posing with this slightly exaggerated smile, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of her top. She winks as you take a quick photo, that mischievous look in her eyes that always means trouble.

"Babe," you sigh, eyeing the drink warily. "You're about to be fucked up."

She giggles, already tipsy, her free hand reaching across the table to brush against yours. "Noooooo," she protests, wagging a finger at you with an exaggerated pout, her voice light and teasing, though her eyelids are already a little heavy. "I'm totally fine."

She takes a slow sip, ice clinking as she swirls the drink, her tongue flicking out to catch a stray droplet at the corner of her lips. The way she shifts in her seat, stretching her long limbs, the delicate dip of her waist leading into toned curves, makes your throat go dry. She's effortless, glowing under the restaurant lights, the teasing way she leans forward making it impossible to look anywhere else.

You know better. You know her. One drink is enough to get her warm, giggly—two, and she's draping herself over you as you leave the restaurant, her long fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, her lips at your ear, whispering filth in a breathy voice. By the time you make it to the car, her grip on your arm is tight, and she's already stumbling into the backseat, tugging at your belt before you can even shut the door.

The air in the car is thick, humid with heat and the faint scent of her perfume mixing with something more raw. Her pants are gone, panties pushed aside, shirt shoved up, leaving her sprawled beneath you, her long, creamy legs spread wide, trembling as she struggles to keep up. Every inch of her feels impossibly soft under your hands—smooth skin, the taut curve of her waist arching under your touch, her thighs trembling as her pussy stretches around your cock, snug and dripping, molding to you perfectly. Her bare skin glistens under the dim car light, completely shaved, puffy, and glistening as you watch her take you inch by fucking inch. The obscene stretch has her eyes rolling back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream before a sob chokes out, overwhelmed by the way you're filling her up.

"Fuuuuck, s'too big," she babbles, clawing at your shoulders, nails digging in as her body trembles beneath you. "Oh my god, baby, love you—love your cock—feels sooo fucking good—" Her words slur together, her drunk mind barely able to form coherent thoughts as pleasure crashes through her.

Her hands are everywhere, sloppy and desperate as they paw at your body. She shoves your shirt up, nails raking across your abs, grabbing at your flesh like she's starving for it. You feel her grip on your biceps, her fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, feeling you flex with each brutal thrust.

"So... so fucking hot," she slurs, eyes unfocused and glassy as her palms slide across your chest, grabbing and squeezing at random. "Been thinkin' 'bout your cock all night."

Every savage thrust makes her tits bounce, forcing these fucked-out little whimpers from her throat. You grab one breast roughly, pinching her nipple between your fingers until she squeals. Your other hand finds her throbbing clit, rubbing it in tight, mean circles that have her whole body jerking like she's being electrocuted.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she gasps, hips bucking wildly, completely out of rhythm. Her hand fumbles between your bodies, groping clumsily for your balls, squeezing them as you slam into her. Her movements are uncoordinated, drunk and dick-stupid, but the sloppy eagerness just makes it hotter.

She's a complete wreck, head thrashing against the seat, eyes unfocused, mascara running down her flushed cheeks. Drool glistens at the corner of her mouth as she tries to speak, but all that comes out are these broken, animal sounds. "Can't—hnnng—s'deep—too much—" she whines, her words melting into incoherent babble.

The car reeks of sex, windows completely fogged, the wet, obscene sounds of your cock pounding her cunt echoing in the small space. Every thrust has her walls clenching around you, sucking you back in, her body desperate for more even as she sobs from the intensity. Her nails leave angry red trails down your back, breaking skin, marking you as hers.

You grab both her wrists, pinning them above her head against the foggy window. She's completely at your mercy, helpless and spread open. You lower your head to her exposed armpit, dragging your tongue along the sensitive skin, tasting salt and the raw scent of her.

"Wha—what the fuuuck," she gasps, body jolting from the unexpected sensation. Her cunt clenches violently around you, her surprise turning to something primal and needy.

You bite down on the tender flesh, feeling her squirm beneath you, trapped and loving it. Your tongue laps at her armpit, occasionally scraping your teeth against the delicate skin. She's fucking losing it, the new sensation short-circuiting her alcohol-soaked brain.

"Holyshitholyshit," she sobs, her free hand yanking at your hair, pulling you harder against her most vulnerable spots. "Don't stop—feels so—fuck—"

Your cock jackhammers into her relentlessly, your thumb rubbing her swollen clit raw, your mouth attacking this new sensitive spot—she's completely overstimulated, brain and body drowning in sensation. You can actually feel her getting wetter around you, her cunt practically gushing as you work her over.

You let go of her wrists to grab her thigh, hooking it over your shoulder, folding her nearly in half. The new angle lets your cock hit places that have her eyes crossing, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Her freed hands paw at you desperately—one grabbing your ass, nails digging in hard enough to leave half-moon marks, the other running up your sweat-slick back.

"Mine," she slurs, barely conscious, just running on pure instinct. "Fucking mine."

You grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. She whimpers, completely surrendered, eyes glazed and vacant. You bite down on her neck, marking her, and she moans like a bitch in heat.

You shove your fingers into her mouth, feeling her suck them eagerly, tongue swirling sloppily around them. Drool leaks from the corner of her lips as she gags slightly. "That's it," you growl, grabbing your phone to snap a picture of her completely fucked-out face. "Look at you, fucking brain-dead on my cock."

She nods frantically, too far gone to even speak, just making these pathetic little whimpering noises with each brutal thrust. You angle your phone to capture the way your cock stretches her cunt, the way her whole body shakes every time you bottom out inside her. She loves this shit—begs for it, gets off on watching herself get absolutely ruined later when she's sober.

Your hand moves from her clit to grab her tit, twisting her nipple just hard enough to make her yelp, her back arching into the pain. Her walls clamp down around you, her body betraying how much she loves that sharp edge.

"Look at this sloppy cunt," you growl, grabbing her chin, forcing her glazed eyes to meet yours. "Fucking dripping for me. Taking every inch like you were made for it."

You grind your hips in a cruel circle, digging your cock into her deepest spots. Her eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent scream. Her hands are everywhere at once—scratching your chest, groping your shoulders, sliding down to feel where your bodies connect, like she can't believe how full she is.

"Gonna watch this tomorrow," you grunt against her ear, your voice harsh and low. "Just like you always want. Gonna see yourself like this—drunk off your ass, drunk on my cock, completely fucking mindless." You bite her earlobe hard enough to make her gasp. "See how that greedy cunt swallows me up. See how fucking desperate you are to be stuffed full."

You spread her legs wider, holding her down as you pound into her without mercy. Your fingers find her clit again, rubbing it ruthlessly, the stimulation so intense it borders on painful. Her hands scrabble uselessly at the seat, at your arms, at anything she can reach, completely overwhelmed.

"Can't—can't—oh fuck—there—right fucking there—" she babbles, words slurring into nonsense. Her eyes aren't even focused anymore, just staring blankly at nothing as pleasure consumes her.

She lets out this broken, animal sound as her whole body seizes up, her cunt clamping down so tight it's almost painful. She's coming so hard she's practically convulsing, back arched impossibly, nails drawing blood as they rake down your back. Her pussy spasms wildly around your cock, milking you as she falls completely apart beneath you.

You don't let up, fucking her through it, prolonging her orgasm until she's sobbing incoherently, not even forming words anymore. Her hands push weakly at your chest before grabbing at you to pull you closer, her body not knowing what it wants except more.

"Too much—can't—fuck—don't stop—please—" The contradictions spill from her lips, her hips still grinding against yours even as tears stream down her face. She's ruined, absolutely wrecked, and still begging for more, her body addicted to the feeling of you inside her.

She's completely yours like this, drunk on booze and your cock, mindless with pleasure, nothing in her head but the need for more, harder, deeper. Her hands cling to you desperately, her legs locked around your waist, her whole body surrendered to the raw, animal sensation of being completely, thoroughly fucked stupid.

...

Morning light streams through the blinds of your apartment, coffee brewing in the kitchen. You glance over at Wonyoung curled up in the armchair, legs folded up beneath her, wearing nothing but your oversized t-shirt. Her hair is a mess, makeup from last night still smudged around her eyes despite her attempts to clean up. She's staring at her phone, teeth sinking into her lower lip, cheeks flushed pink.

The tinny sound of her own voice filters through the phone speakers: Oh my god, baby, love you—love your cock—feels sooo fucking good—

She gasps, free hand flying up to cover her face, peeking through her fingers as the video continues. You can hear your own voice now: Look at this sloppy cunt. Fucking dripping for me. Taking every inch like you were made for it.

"Oh my god," she whispers, legs pressing tighter together. "Did I really say all that?" But despite her embarrassed tone, you notice how she's squirming in the chair, how her breathing has quickened, how she keeps rewinding to certain parts.

You shake your head, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing smile. "You always act shocked."

She looks up at you, still covering half her face. "I was so drunk! So embarrassing!"

But you both know the truth. By tonight, she'll be asking if you want to make another video. She always does.

[ofbatsandballads]

have a little Jason drabble inspired by me going to my work bestie’s bachelorette party tonight. yes, yes I did imagine all this while getting ready and what about it? also consider this a part of my jason gets the girl series.

Jason Todd is a worrier. You knew that the very first night you met him when he automatically assumed that you, a woman living alone and wearing fuzzy pajamas, would be a danger to him. You know that now by his incessant questions that he’s been pelting at you for the past hour.

“You’ll keep in contact with me, right?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Of course, Jay,” you reply as you twist like a contortionist while shaving your legs.

“I know it’s a bachelorette party, but please don’t drink so much that you don’t know what’s goin’ on around you, baby,” he says, voice raised so you can hear him over your hair dryer.

“I know, Jay. I’ve not forgotten where we live!” you shout back as reassuringly as you can.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to stay here with me?” he asks, only half joking, as you flip through the hangers in your shared closet looking for what to wear.

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” you concede as he kisses down your neck. “But no. Alas, I cannot be a shitty friend.”

“Fine. But at least wear somethin’ that goes with the jacket I got you,” he grumbles.

You laugh under your breath. This man. He’s such a worry wart. But you get it. Jason goes out every night into the belly of the beast, sees the worst of the worst. He knows what happens to vulnerable young women in this city, and you can’t blame him for his overprotective nature. So if wearing the tan leather jacket, a smaller replica of the one he wears as Red Hood, that has a tracker sewn into the interior is what he needs to ease his anxious mind, you’ll do it without complaint.

“It’s a gorgeous jacket, Jaybear. It goes with everything,” you say as you scratch soothingly at his scalp.

“You know where you’ll be tonight?” he asks from the foot of your bed, watching you as you put on your makeup.

“Uh huh. We’re not going to any bars or clubs or anything like that. Maid of honor just rented a penthouse in the Diamond District. We’ll probably spend the night eating pizza and drinking cocktails,” you answer as you try not to stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand.

Jason makes a little grunt of agreement. You idly think that he sounds just like his dad, but you also don’t say that because you’re not a complete idiot. Also because you once told Jason he looked like Bruce and how miraculous that was since he was adopted, and he spent the next three days mumbling 'don't look anythin’ like the old man’ every time he glanced in a mirror.

You glance behind you in the vanity mirror to see the love of your life. His expression tugs your heartstrings. He looks so…melancholy. Emotions are storming in his sea green eyes and all you want is to ease his worries. You lay down your makeup brush and pad over to him, settling down in his lap. His hands come up automatically to rest on your hips, thumbs stroking over the softness.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you whisper, smoothing out the creases between his furrowed eyebrows with the tips of your fingers.

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, tries to find the words he needs. “I’m not tryin’ to be overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those guys that tells their girl what to do.”

He takes a breath and you stay silent. He has to get this out and you’ll wait as long as it takes.

“I just…worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t,” and his voice breaks like stained glass. “I wouldn’t survive it. I know this is fuckin’ stupid. Me actin’ like this over a bachelorette party but I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about all the things that could happen.”

Oh. Oh, your sweet, loving, heaven sent boyfriend. You know his past haunts him, that this city haunts him. You wish you could take all his worries away and wrap him in a nice warm blanket. You’d tuck him away from the world, keep him safe and happy and cared for all his days if you could.

“Jason, look at me,” you tilt his head up with your fingers under his jaw. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to be as safe as possible. I won’t drink irresponsibly. I’ll make sure to text you if anything, and I mean anything, starts to get weird. It won’t, but if it did you would be on speed dial. And trust me, angel, I have no intentions of staying the night.”

You don’t. Good friend or not, you can’t sleep well if you’re not wrapped in the strong arms of the man beneath you.

“So I expect you to be waiting on that tricked out bike of yours to pick me up,” you beam at him, run your hand through his hair because you know it makes him melt into your touch.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you,” he says, a solemn promise that extends far beyond tonight.

“Good. Now that being said, I will be bringing home all the dick decorations because I wanna plant them in your brother’s apartment. Just to fuck with him,” you giggle.

Jason lights up for the first time tonight. His green eyes gleam with mischief and adoration.

“Oh, you are my fuckin’ soulmate, baby. I’ll help you break in.”

[diaperswitch91]

Her parents left 2 hours ago for their annual month long anniversary cruise. This is the first time Sarah gets to stay home alone instead of being sent off to some relative or a baby sitter. She’d been wanting to talk to her boyfriend about her…needs. But had been to afraid to do so. So she decided to show him. She invited him over and told him she would be waiting on her bed with a surprise.

Now she is afraid of what will happen when he arrives to find her sitting on her bed in a diaper. And if he doesn’t get here soon. It’s going to be a wet diaper. She only hopes that he’d rather change her, then run away. Finding a boyfriend to be her daddy that is her own age has been difficult.

Luckily for her, he is ready for the challenge. When he walks in, he is shocked, then asks her about the diaper, she explains that she’s never been able to control her bladder very well and at this point has given up trying. He doesn’t run, or laugh or make fun of her. Instead, she hears a phrase she has dreamed of for years. “Well, you should have told me sooner. Over my lap, my little girl needs a spanking for hiding her diapers from me. Then we’ll get you into a fresh clean diaper and get you dressed.”

I think this will be the beginning of a long beautiful new life for Baby Sarah.

I've been gone from tumblr for so long! I hope you'll all give me a warm welcome back! I'll be posting my pics here as well as on other platforms~

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Coming Home to You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: it’s senior night a very big night for Paige indeed.. and you can’t miss it not when you’re each other’s home

For the past few weeks, keeping this secret had been absolute torture. Every time Paige texted me about how much she wished I could be at her senior night, my heart ached. I wanted to tell her, wanted to ease that longing in her voice, but I knew it would be worth it. Everyone was in on it—her teammates, the coaching staff, even her parents. The only person in the dark? Paige herself.

Now, as I sat on the plane with my niece squirming beside me, I felt the anticipation bubbling in my chest.

“Auntie, are we there yet?” my five-year-old niece, Aria, whined, her little legs swinging beneath her seat.

“Almost, baby,” I reassured her, smoothing down her curls. “Paige is gonna be so happy to see you.”

She grinned, showing off the gap where she had just lost a tooth last week. “She’s gonna be so surprised, right?”

I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, she has no idea we’re coming.”

Aria giggled, kicking her feet harder. She adored Paige, and the feeling was mutual. Anytime we FaceTimed, Paige always asked about her, sending little gifts and promising to teach her how to dribble properly one day.

As the plane began its descent, my stomach tightened. I had spent months away from Paige, only seeing her through a screen, listening to her talk about the season, about how it felt knowing this was her final year in a UConn jersey. She deserved to have her people there, and I needed to be there for her—just like she’d always been for me.

By the time we landed, the rush of excitement made my fingers tingle. Paige’s mom picked us up, greeting us with a warm hug before driving straight to campus. The plan was simple: hide in the tunnels until the seniors were honored, then walk out as they announced her name.

Aria bounced in her car seat, unable to contain herself. “I wanna run to Paige first! Can I? Can I?”

“Of course, baby,” I smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She’s gonna love it.”

Game Night: Gampel Pavilion

The energy inside Gampel was electric. The crowd was buzzing, the students loud as ever, and the court gleamed under the bright lights. My heart pounded as I hid just behind the tunnel entrance, holding Aria’s hand tightly while the announcer began reading out names.

Each senior walked out to cheers, their families meeting them at center court. Paige was the last one to be called.

“And finally, our captain, our leader—number five, Paige Bueckers!”

The crowd erupted. My breath hitched as I peeked around the tunnel, watching Paige step forward, waving to the fans, her eyes already glassy with emotion. She thought her parents were the only ones waiting for her—but that was about to change.

“Now,” I whispered to Aria, squeezing her hand before letting go.

She took off like a shot.

“PAIGE!”

Paige barely had time to turn before Aria’s tiny body launched herself at Paige’s legs. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Aria, shock flashing across her face before realization dawned.

“What—? Aria?” Her voice cracked, looking down at the little girl clinging to her.

That’s when I stepped out.

The second Paige’s eyes met mine, everything around us seemed to fade. Her mouth parted in disbelief, her hands still frozen around Aria as if she thought she might be dreaming.

I smiled, my throat tightening. “Hey, baby.”

The moment shattered as she let go of Aria and practically ran to me, wrapping me up in the tightest hug imaginable.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice trembling against my ear.

“I’m here,” I murmured, holding onto her just as tightly. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She pulled back slightly, cupping my face with both hands, her thumbs brushing over my cheeks as if she needed to make sure I was real. “You—you flew all the way here? When? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I laughed, my own tears welling up. “Because I wanted to surprise you. Everyone knew except you.”

She shook her head, laughing through her disbelief. “You’re evil.”

“You love me, though,” I teased.

Her grin softened into something more tender. “Yeah,” she murmured, pressing her forehead to mine. “I really, really do.”

The crowd was still cheering, the moment stretching between us as if we were the only two people in the gym. Paige’s hands never left my face, and I could feel her heart racing just as fast as mine.

“This is the best surprise ever,” she whispered.

I bit my lip, glancing down at Aria, who was grinning up at us, completely unbothered by the fact that she had just helped execute the best senior night surprise in history. “I had some help.”

Paige laughed, ruffling Aria’s curls before scooping her up into her arms. “You little sneak,” she teased.

Aria giggled, hugging Paige’s neck. “I missed you, P!”

“I missed you too, munchkin.” Paige pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning back to me. “God, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you finish this without me,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You deserve to have the people who love you here, Paige.”

Her expression softened, and she tugged me close again, this time pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispered.

I smiled. “I think we both got lucky.”

She let out a soft laugh before glancing at the crowd, then back at me. “You’re staying for a while, right?”

I nodded. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Her grin turned into something mischievous. “That’s a dangerous offer, baby.”

“I’m serious.” I squeezed her hand. “I don’t wanna be apart anymore. I wanna be with you.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, and then—right there, in front of everyone—she leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft, sweet, and full of every unspoken word between us.

When she pulled away, her eyes were bright, full of something deeper than happiness. “Then stay,” she murmured. “Stay with me.”

I grinned. “You don’t even have to ask.”

She kissed me again, and this time, I knew—no matter where life took us, no matter what came next—I would always come home to her.

Paige’s POV

The adrenaline from senior night hadn’t worn off, but the moment we stepped inside my apartment, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. The last few hours had been a blur—cheers, speeches, hugs, and the overwhelming joy of seeing her again. Seeing them again.

Aria clung to me the entire time, refusing to let go even after we left the arena. Every time I tried to pass her off to her aunt, she just tightened her grip around my neck, mumbling, “I missed you too much.”

I wasn’t gonna fight her on it. I missed her too.

Now, after a well needed shower, the little girl was curled up against my chest, completely knocked out, her tiny fingers still clutching the front of my hoodie like she was scared I’d disappear again.

I glanced over at the love of my life—because that’s what she was, no doubt about it—as she set her bag down by the door, stretching out her arms with a soft groan.

“You look dead,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper.

She shot me a tired glare, but the small smile on her lips told me she wasn’t really mad. “I feel dead. That flight, the sneaking around, wrangling her—” she gestured at the sleeping child nestled in my arms. “I deserve a medal.”

I laughed, adjusting Aria slightly so she wouldn’t slip. “You deserve a lot more than that.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer, reaching out to brush a stray curl from Aria’s forehead. “She missed you like crazy, you know.”

“I missed her too,” I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Aria’s head.

Her eyes flickered to mine, something unreadable in them. “And me?”

I smirked, tilting my head slightly. “You? Who’s that?”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, okay. That’s how we’re playing this?”

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh, but the playful glare she shot me made it impossible. “Come here,” I said softly, and the teasing faded from her face.

She stepped between my legs, resting her hands on my shoulders as I pulled her closer with one arm, the other still supporting Aria.

“You know I missed you,” I murmured, letting my forehead rest against hers.

Her breath hitched, and I could feel the weight of the months apart in the way she exhaled, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.

“I hate being away from you,” she admitted quietly. “I hated every second of it.”

I tightened my hold on her waist, pressing my lips to her temple. “Then don’t be.”

Her fingers dug into the fabric of my hoodie. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “You said you wanted to stay. So stay. I don’t care how we make it work—I just know I don’t wanna go another night without you.”

She swallowed hard, searching my face like she was trying to memorize every detail. “Paige…”

“I’m serious.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek, letting myself get lost in her warmth. “I love you. I don’t wanna keep doing this long-distance thing when we both know where this is going.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she let out a shaky laugh. “And where’s that?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Where do you think?”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering between mine, and I could see the exact moment she realized I meant every word.

“You mean—”

“I mean,” I cut her off gently, “that I see forever when I look at you.”

Her face crumbled, and she let out a soft, shaky breath before pressing her lips to mine. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—just right. Just home.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against mine, and she whispered, “I see forever with you too.”

I smiled, feeling something settle deep in my chest. “Good.”

A tiny, sleepy voice suddenly mumbled between us.

“Paige?”

We both froze before glancing down. Aria stirred slightly, blinking up at me with half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah, munchkin?”

Her tiny hand reached up to touch my cheek, her voice drowsy. “Don’t go away again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding her just a little bit closer. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

She sighed contently, snuggling deeper into my hoodie.

I glanced at the love of my life, who was watching us with nothing but pure adoration in her eyes.

Home wasn’t a place. It was this. It was her. It was the sleepy little girl in my arms, the steady heartbeat against mine, and the unspoken promise that we’d never have to say goodbye again.

I had everything I needed right here.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[tsunodaradio]

pick your poison, babe (i'm poison either way) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

♫ and i'll tell you one thing, honey: i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x dj!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity, mention of alcohol consumption. unspecified monza race win, feelings realization/denial, lando has a crush. title from taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback. ꔮ commentary box: feels apt to dedicate my first post on this blog to the person who introduced me to F1, @norrisradio. papaya forever, baby. this feels like something that could be part of a bigger story, but for now! enjoy a down bad lando. <3 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Monza podium still feels like a fever dream. The kind of night he should be spending at an over-the-top afterparty, champagne showers and all, with people yelling his name like he hadn’t just spent two hours driving for his life. 

Instead of basking in the glow of P3 with the rest of the grid, Lando finds himself tugging the brim of a McLaren cap lower over his eyes, slipping past the bouncer of an underground rave.

He mumbles something unintelligible when the bouncer glances at him for a beat too long, and the guy doesn’t press. Maybe he doesn't care, or maybe he just thinks Lando’s another kid trying too hard to look mysterious. Either way, Lando is grateful. 

Lando hurries down the narrow hallway, his trainers squeaking against the concrete floor as the bass rattles through the venue like a pulse.He tells himself he’s here for the music. That he’s been desperate for a proper night out, a way to blow off steam without the whole world watching. 

But the truth is, he knows exactly who’s playing tonight. He’d seen the lineup on Instagram— your name sandwiched between two other local DJs— and something in him short-circuited.

You’ve met a couple of times, exchanged a handful of words over mixing decks at a mutual friend’s house party in Monaco. He picked up DJ-ing as a hobby a few years back, a way to kill time between races. 

He had become painfully aware of how much of an amateur he was the moment you’d started playing. You made it look effortless. 

He’d been hooked since.

Not in a crush way, obviously.

That would be ridiculous.

Lando shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows the glow of LED lights deeper into the venue. The air smells like sweat and cheap liquor, the crowd a chaotic mess of limbs and blurry faces. People bump into him, and Lando mutters apologies swallowed up by the music.

He clocks you at the DJ booth almost immediately.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he finds you. How his eyes cut through the sea of bodies like they’ve been trained on you this whole time. 

You’re lit up in shades of red and blue, fingers dancing across the soundboard with a kind of swagger that makes Lando want to rip his cap off and run straight back to the paddock.

He tells himself he won’t get too close. That he’ll hang back, maybe grab a drink and nod along like he’s just here for the vibe. But then you glance up from the decks, and your gaze flickers through the crowd like you can sense him there. 

Lando panics, jerking to the side and bumping into someone holding a full cup of beer. “Mate,” the guy groans, shaking liquid off his arm, but Lando doesn’t even register it. 

His pulse is hammering, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Must be the heat, he thinks to himself. 

He’s not nervous. 

He’s not.

Lando leans against a graffiti-splattered wall, heart in his throat as the bass thrums through his chest. He’ll stay for a bit. Maybe until your set ends. Maybe until you step off the stage, and he can casually, accidentally cross paths with you.

Just to say ‘hi’. 

Nothing else. 

The beat thrums through the floor, reverberating up Lando's spine like the aftershock of a race. Bodies move in synchronized chaos under the strobing lights, but he only sees you.

You, perched behind the DJ booth, fingers deftly turning dials and sliding faders. Your hair is damp with sweat, the glint of neon catching on your skin. You look like you belong here— like the music isn't just something you play, but something you breathe.

Lando tells himself he’s just appreciating the artistry, the technical skill. 

It has nothing to do with the way his chest tightens every time you flash a grin at the crowd.

His feet start moving before his brain can catch up. He snakes through the crowd, heart hammering harder than it did on the podium. He angles himself perfectly— or so he convinces himself— lingering just by the side of the stage. 

When you descend, your set concluded, your shoulder brushes his chest. Lando executes the most intentional accidental bump in history.

“Oh, shit— sorry!” 

He barely registers your words. The second your eyes meet his, he knows he’s completely screwed. 

Recognition blooms on your face like a firework. When you smile at him, it feels like the entire world tilts.

“Lando Norris?” you laugh, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He tugs his cap lower, hoping it might shield him from how devastatingly charming you are. “Just thought I’d check out the music scene,” he lies, his voice failing to land anywhere near casual.

You cock your head, suspicious but amused. “And you just so happened to end up at my set?”

Lando swallows, throat tight. “Just my luck,” he says, the words brittle on his tongue.

You laugh, the sound bright and sharp despite the dozens of other noises warring for his attention. The music hums through Lando’s body like a second heartbeat, but it dulls to a murmur the longer he stands next to you. 

He’s keenly aware of every movement you make. The way you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, the lingering adrenaline in your smile, the subtle shift of your weight as you rock on your heels.

“You here with anyone?” you ask, voice still pitched a little louder from your set. “Want anything? A drink?”

Lando shakes his head so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He licks his lips, nerves writhing in his chest like live wires. And because he’s a masochist, he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Here with anyone.”

You tilt your head, brows lifting. For a second, Lando thinks he’s made a mistake, that you’re about to brush him off, but then you shake your head with an easy grin.

“Nope,” you say. “Just me.”

The knot in Lando’s stomach loosens, and the relief is instant— almost shameful in how palpable it is. He feels a little steadier now, a little more like himself. The familiar tinge of confidence edges its way back into his voice.

“Well,” he starts, just on the right side of teasing, “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Your gaze lingers on him, contemplating. Lando swears his pulse stutters.

After a beat, you shrug. “Nowhere better to be.”

A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it back. “Guess that makes two of us,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The bass thumps back to life, rippling through the crowd like a living thing, and you tilt your head at Lando, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do pretty little drivers like you even know how to rave?” you ask, voice raised over the music.

Lando scoffs, the sound drowned out by the beat. He lifts his chin, his usual cocky edge peeking through. “Do pretty little DJs like you know how to drive?” 

You laugh; Lando thinks he could live off the sound. Before he knows it, you’re tugging him back into the crowd, bodies pressing in on either side as the music surges. The neon lights flicker across your skin, and Lando, without really meaning to (or maybe meaning to a little too much), lets the crowd shift him closer to you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, arm to arm, fingertips grazing as you both move to the rhythm.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch you, and he’s pathetically grateful for it.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the occasional flash of a camera, the way he subtly angles his face down to keep the shadow of his cap in place. You lean in, close enough that your lips nearly graze the shell of his ear. Instinctively, he tilts his head down so you can reach him without straining too much. 

“Tell me, Norris,” you tease, your voice a low hum that curls through his chest, “are you still racing?” 

“What?” he sputters out with a laugh. 

“Answer the question,” you insist, unable to hold back your own laughs. “Are you racing away from something? Racing towards something?” 

Lando knows the answer. That doesn’t make things any easier. And so he does what he does best— play it off, be incorrigible. “Pardon?” he asks, feigning the hardness of hearing. “You have to speak up!” 

You roll your eyes, the expression making you look a lot cuter than Lando cares to admit. “Nevermind,” you holler, pulling away. 

The pang of loss he feels is incomparable to his relief. For the next hour or so, that’s how he dodges your more invasive queries. 

“Why are you really here, Norris?” you ask at one point, voice raised to cut through the noise. 

Lando cups a hand around his ear and squints at you like he’s struggling to understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

You shake your head but try again. “Why are you here?”

“Did you just ask if I’ve got hair in my ear?!”

You smack his shoulder, but he only grins wider, reveling in the way your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. “You’re impossible,” you huff, but your smile softens the words.

A beat passes, and then you add, quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lando’s chest tightens. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He recovers fast, though, leaning closer until his forehead nearly bumps yours. “Yeah,” he says, voice low but clear despite the music. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, catching him out. “So you can hear me!”

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, feeling very much like he won for a second time that night. 

The night wears on. Lando could keep going, really, but then your hand grazes his wrist. A fleeting touch before you beckon him with a tilt of your head. Lando follows without a word, the warmth of your fingers lingering on his skin like a brand.

He keeps his head down, tugging his cap lower as you weave through the venue. He glances around often, wary eyes flitting to clusters of people, to the occasional glint of a camera lens reflecting the strobes.

“I promise you’re not going to have dating rumors come tomorrow,” you say, catching his unease. Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s a sincerity beneath it that makes his chest ache.

“Promise?” he asks, trying to match your tone, but his voice wavers.

You smile, throwing a casual look over your shoulder. “Swear on it.”

Lando doesn’t know how you manage to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the venue, weaving through bodies and shadowy hallways with practiced ease. You take him through a side door and up a flight of stairs, the clatter of your footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

At the top, you push open another door. Suddenly, you’re outside. The rooftop stretches out before you, bathed in the glow of the distant city lights. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and lingering smoke. From up here, the music is a distant hum, the chaos below reduced to a quiet murmur.

You walk over to the edge, resting your elbows on the ledge. “Better?” you ask, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Lando exhales all the tension in his body before settling next to you. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Better.”

The view is breathtaking. Monza sprawls out beneath you, a patchwork of golden lights against the darkened landscape. Lando watches you tip your head back to look at the sky, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the glow from the streetlights. 

You’re radiant. 

It’s not fair. 

“Is this your usual post-set ritual?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the ledge.

“Kinda,” you answer vaguely. “Helps me clear my head.” 

Lando hums in agreement, though his head feels anything but clear. His heart is still pounding— not from the dancing, not from the adrenaline of sneaking around, but from being this close to you.

You half-turn to face him, your shoulder brushing against his. “So,” you start, playful but quiet. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Ah.” Lando laughs at your attempt to double down. “So that’s what this is. A trap.” 

You arch a brow. “I mean, it’s a fair question. Podium finisher skips team dinner to go rave in Monza?”

Lando squints at you, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wait,” he starts slowly, “you knew I podiumed?”

“Everyone knows,” you deflect, looking back out over the city lights.

He inches closer, eyes gleaming. “You checked.”

You don’t even hesitate, barreling on where Lando might’ve sidetracked. “Of course I did,” you say. “I wanted to know if you’d win.”

Lando blinks, caught completely off guard. The rush of exhilaration that barrels through him is almost disorienting. “You were rooting for me?”

“You act like that’s weird.” You glance at him again, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I may not know much about racing, but I know enough to hope you’d end up on top.”

Lando’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to process the fact that you— the person who makes him feel like he’s spinning out even when he’s on solid ground— had been watching, keeping tabs.

He clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I had to come celebrate with my number one fan, then.”

You snort. “I never said I was your number one fan.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch. Brutal.”

You laugh, the sound echoing into the night, and Lando fears it’s becoming his new favorite noise. Much better than the squeal of tires, the roar of crowds, the electronic dance music that’d been spun downstairs. 

“So?” you prompt, turning to face him fully. “Why are you here, Mr. P3?”

He tilts his head, mouth curling up in a sly smile. “What was that?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

“Couldn’t hear you,” he quips, cupping a hand to his ear. “Something about my heart?”

You push off the railing. “I swear, Norris—”

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, hands raised in surrender.

The second your expression softens, though, he falters. 

The truth sticks to the roof of his mouth like honey, too sweet and too heavy to spit out. He glances down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I just… wanted to unwind. Long weekend. And…” 

Fuck it. Lando swallows. Scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I wanted to see you play.”

The words slip out like he’s admitting a felony. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid of what he might find in your face. Amusement, pity, or worse— understanding. Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, figure him out. Because you probably already know what he’s danced around this entire evening.

He risks a glance, and his heart stutters.

You’re smiling.

Not in a way that mocks or patronizes, but something softer. Something that knots him up inside.

“Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head.

Lando exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he can physically scrub the embarrassment away. He takes a careful step closer, shrugging like the confession doesn’t carry the weight of the world.

“Okay, probably,” he relents. “But, like, only a little.”

You hum, pretending to think it over, and Lando swears his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest.

“I can live with that,” you say after a moment. 

It’s not much. It’s not a denial, not an acceptance, but it’s not like Lando is asking for anything, either. 

He could, he realizes. Ask what you have planned after this, ask if you’d like to chase each other through Monza’s streets like one of those old romantic comedies his mum would make him sit through. 

Instead, he only manages a soft, almost breathless, “Yeah?” 

The hope in his tone is a dangerous, treacherous thing. It’s almost as damning as the way he shifts just a little bit closer to you, the two of you leaning back against the railing. 

Lando isn’t going to kiss you tonight. He knows that much. 

Not tonight, but maybe—

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds just like his. Tender, hopeful. A whisper of I don’t mind seeing you, a promise of next time. Wherever and whenever that might be.  

Your shoulders press against each other. 

Neither of you pull away. ⛐

[yelenasbraid]

JOE BURROW — curing nostalgia

summary — post-grad is lonely. your boyfriend attempts to help.

warnings — fem!reader, angst, fluff, self-indulgent because post grad is slowly killing me, some random names used for friends, so sorry if i use yours on accident!

note — sorry for being MIA. depression has been kicking my ass ugh :( anyways! i’m back! and this is to help push y’all over while i’m finishing maintaining professionalism part 6.

tags — @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @jburrgf @wickedfun9 @hotburreaux @softburrow @kazsbrckkers @iosivb9 @ebsmind @burrowdarling @blairsworld22 (comment/send an ask if you want to be added!)

YOU FLIPPED THROUGH PHOTO ALBUMS. The pictures of you and your friends, the memories that rushed to the surface. You gently lined the page with your finger, remembering the moments illustrated on the pages. You remembered loving physical photos in case something happened and all of your digital photos were erased. You cherished these moments, and you wished you could go back and live that life again. You lived so far from your friends, living on different paths. You were proud of them, but you wanted to see them.

Life in cincinnati was bliss. You lived with your boyfriend, and you made friends with some of the WAGs, but nothing filled the hole that was left after college. You shoved it aside for a couple of years, but every now and then, seeing your college football team play, it would churn up memories. The cups of overpriced alcohol. The upsets. The hugs from friends. You still had the jersey your mom bought you for your birthday one year.

But you were living a different life, now. Your friends knew that, too. You didn’t tell Joe, though. What would you tell him? That everytime you drove on the highway, you got flashbacks to driving to school? That you still grieved the loss of your college years?

You turned a page as footsteps came into the living room. You looked up and saw Joe walking in, sitting next to you. He looked comfortable with his sweats and his baby pink sweatshirt. His eyes were soft, holding yours in his.

“What’s that look for?” you asked him, a smile blossoming on your face.

“You only pull out the photo album when you’re feeling nostalgic,” he gestures to the album. He understood how hard it was for you. After college, you uprooted and moved back home, and then moved in with him. Because of the distance, you’ve not seen your friends in a long time. Your schedules weren’t exactly on the same timeline either. He knew you thrived off of your friendships. He also knew you missed them, and it’s been especially hard.

“Yeah well, guess i’ve been feeling nostalgic,” you joked. It’s only been two years since you graduated, but it still felt weird. You should be back there, with your friends, eating sappy dining hall food and too-sweet campus coffee. It didn’t help you still followed your college’s football team on Instagram, silently watching and hoping for wins, despite not being there.

Joe leaned against you, gently placing his chin on your shoulder, looking over and observing the pictures. He remembered some of these moments, he remembered you telling him about them. One picture in particular stuck out to him, the one with you at the coffee table in your apartment, homemade tacos in front of you and your friends.

flashback

“I’m so nervous, Joey, are they going to like them?” You were on the phone with Joe while ground beef browned in a pan.

“Y/N, babe, you’re an amazing cook. They’d be crazy not to like your food. Plus it’s tacos, you can’t go wrong with tacos,” he assured you. Doing long distance was hard, but you made it work.

“You’d be surprised,” you chuckled, continuing to stir the ground beef around.

“Your heart for your friends is evident, love, and they should see that over whether or not they like your tacos,” he told you. Joe saw the heart you gave to everyone, and he was lucky enough to get just a slice of that.

“You’re right you’re right,” you sighed after a few moments. There was a knock at your apartment door, and you turned to walk to the door.

“Sounds like your guests are here,” he hummed.

“They are, I’ll talk to you after?” you suggested before you unlocked and opened the door.

“Of course, I need to know how those tacos tasted. Send me pictures!” he told you, sounding like his mother.

“I will,” you giggled, opening your apartment door and greeting your friends with open arms.

end of flashback

“Have you talked to any of them recently?” Joe asked as you turned a page.

“I talked to Leslie the other day about one of our other friend’s engagement, but I haven’t spoken to her since,” you replied. Leslie was one of your closest friends, but she worked hours away in a different state. Getting together was hard; you could barely manage phone calls.

“You should plan a trip to see them,” he suggested. As much as Joe loved coming home to you, seeing you here with him, and just being around you, he couldn’t deny you the human need for friendship. What kind of person would he be if he did that? A bad one, that’s what.

“I just don’t know when. They all have very different schedules and I’ve tried to get with them, but it never works,” you sighed, closing the book. It sounded pathetic, but you yearned for the friends you made in college. You weren’t diminishing the friendships you made in ohio, especially with some of the other WAGs, but you didn’t have as deep of a relationship with them as you did with your college friends.

Joe wrapped you in his arms, bringing you into his lap. You cuddled into him, taking in his scent and his touch. You loved him, and you loved being around him. He was your best friend all while being your boyfriend, but there were some needs he couldn’t fulfill. He knew that, and you knew that.

As he held you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, an idea came to life in his head. What if your friends came to you?

a few days later

You shuffled around the kitchen, your fingers flitting over the brownies you were making. Joe told you that his parents were joining you for dinner, so you decided to make brownies.

You spread the chocolate concoction in a glass, buttered pan, humming along to soften music that played through your phone. The kitchen was warm, the heat prickling your skin as you slid the pan of brownies into the oven.

Just then a knock echoed through your home. You wiped your hands on a towel as Joe stood from the couch.

“I got it,” he grinned. It was the kind of grin that crinkled his eyes, that lit up his face. He loved his parents, but his brightened expression told you that he had something up his sleeve.

You watched the entryway wearily, your view obscured by a wall. Your ears strained for voices, the door opening and voices sounding through the hallway.

“She’s in the kitchen,” you heard Joe whisper. Why was he whispering? Your heart slammed against your chest, your palms sweaty with your nerves. What the hell was going on?

He wasn’t the one to come back into your field of vision. A shorter woman was, and your eyes widened. Your body froze as Leslie’s eyes lit up, as she ran to you, enveloping you in a bone-crushing embrace.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you saw the rest of your college roommates file in. You wrapped your arms around Leslie, your chest stuttering with the breaths that you took. Warmth spread over your body, your limbs numb from the sheer joy that lit your face.

Your friends were back. After years of being apart and seeing each other through a screen, you finally had them again. Your other roommates encased you, the four of you standing together in the kitchen. Their arms were a fortress, a place to go for refuge. You held onto them, and as you pulled away, Leslie held your cheeks in her hands.

“Didn’t think you’d be living in a mansion,” she joked, and you laughed. You wiped your watery eyes, giving individual embraces to each of your friends. Each embrace was intentional, filled with your longing and a display of how badly you’d missed them. You finally pulled away from them, wiping your eyes with shaky hands.

“This is crazy,” you chuckled, feeling tears burn your eyes again. These were your friends, your people, and they’d found their way back to you.

“What’s crazier is me getting a DM from your boyfriend a few days ago,” another friend, Sam, spoke up. Your eyes narrowed, intrigue dawning on your flushed features.

“What?”

“Yeah, Joe messaged us on Instagram a couple days ago asking if we were available to come visit. Luckily we were, so he booked us flights and we found ourselves in a castle of a home,” Leslie spoke up, making you chuckle. Your eyes flicked to Joe, who leaned against the doorway. He’d definitely snapped photos, something else to add to your photo album. But he was just happy to see you happy, to see the tears in your eyes from sheer joy.

You parted from your friends, walking up and throwing your arms around Joe. He welcomed the embrace, wrapping his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck, his heart clenching in his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his neck, your heart warm and steady. Your stomach was full, but it growled with the desire for brownies.

“Don’t thank me,” he hummed against your neck. He pulled away, cupping your face into his hands. His eyes were soft, filled with affection and a warmth that only he had for you. He kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there.

“Go and have fun, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you come back,” he promised. Seeing joy fill your chest was something he’d never get tired of seeing. He’d never get tired of being the one to make you happy, even if he brought the joy to you. He knew you needed your people; he wasn’t the only important person in your life.

“Ok,” you smiled, the bubbles of excitement and a foreign yet familiar sensation of giddiness making you giggle. You kissed him sweetly on the lips before you returned to your friends. They had plenty of thoughts on your intimacy with your boyfriend, to which you blushed and argued back. Joe just watched for a moment, watching you indulge in the friends that made you.

He pushed off of the wall and walked up the stairs and into his office. He could hear your laughs from his office, and it only served to make him smile. He knew you’d always come back to him, but right now, he knew you needed your girls.

[joelmillerisapunk]

💥🔥 SCREAMING. CRYING. THROWING UP. 🔥💥

I don’t think you understand how dangerously good this is. The tension. The dynamic. The way every line is dripping with raw intensity and undeniable chemistry. This isn’t just smut—this is a whole experience.

Lucien?? Lucien has me in a CHOKEHOLD. The way he knows what she needs, the way he gives it to her without question, without hesitation. How he understands that this isn’t about love—it’s about something deeper, something darker, something only he can satisfy. And god, does he satisfy.

And the writing?? Absolutely filthy in the best possible way. The details, the pacing, the push and pull of dominance and surrender—I need this BURNED into my brain. The teasing? The control? The absolute wreckage he leaves behind? I’m ascending.

And that ending. The cigarette. The quiet. The unspoken longing. “Till next time.” OH. MY. GOD. This is the kind of dynamic that makes me feral.

I want to personally thank you for ruining me. I’ll never recover. 🔥🔥🔥

Some of my favorite parts down below because honestly this whole thing set me on fire:

ohhh you calling me out now? lmao “See, baby? That's your problem, you always push people away. You're scared to be loved. And that's why you always call me.” WAHHHHH  “You think that? But who's gonna love you like I do, baby?”“And how do you love me?”“My way,” he said, coming closer to you, a cigarette resting behind his ear. This motherfucker was the hottest man you knew. The biggest red flag you’d ever met. OMFG IM SCREAMING cause same for him raw all the way “No. You’re the only dick that I fuck raw.” OH THIS IS DELICIOUS “Come on baby, let me in,” he said against your lips, his familiar tobacco breath invading your nostrils a little more. “And I'm not talking about your cunt, she’s already droolin’, right?”

holy fuckkkkk this man is hotter than lava “Come on, baby. I’ve been thinking about fucking your mouth since you called me,” he said, slowly jacking his thick cock with his fist, his stare full of lust. 

mhmm yes chains please two chains resting at the bottom of his neck. 

im fucking dizzy He remained standing for a few moments, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. His hard cock pointed towards the ceiling, slowly jacking off again after spitting into his palm. Even though the precum was flowing from his reddened slit.

smoking bad men smoking like this HOT HOT HOT He was so good that sometimes he would make you come in less time than it took you to finish your cig. Then he’d grab it from your trembling fingers to take a drag while you were still trying to catch your breath. 

Shameless

3k1 | Lucien de Leon x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: you ask Lucien to come over and he does exactly what you need him to Warnings: 18+ mdni. Oral (f/m), size kink, cigarettes, rimming, ass play, piv, creampie, pet names (baby, baby girl), reader has no specific physical descriptions but wears a dress

a/n:  Thank you for the inspo @gothcsz 🙏❤️ (tumblr free Kat FFS§§§) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for everything, ily so, so much 🥹💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“Come on baby, don't play like this now,” he said, full of self-confidence, leaning against the wall in front of your door in his stupid shirt. The mountain of shit he had been dragging behind him for years had never damage his self-esteem.

“I don’t know why I keep calling you,” you said, bitter and unfair towards him. “Every time I regret it. Before or after I fuck you.”

“Mmmm… So you regret it now? You want me to leave? Ok,” he added, turning around, before you could even answer.

“Fuck, wait, Lucien!”

He didn't hide his smile as he turned around. 

“See, baby? That's your problem, you always push people away. You're scared to be loved. And that's why you always call me.”

“Yeah, right. And you’re perfect for that, because love’s not your thing.”

He leaned against the wall again, a soft smile on his lips.

 “You think that? But who's gonna love you like I do, baby?”

“And how do you love me?”

“My way,” he said, coming closer to you, a cigarette resting behind his ear. This motherfucker was the hottest man you knew. The biggest red flag you’d ever met.

“You always say you wanna be good but you keep begging me to come over,” he said, moving closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. Damn, you just wanted to kiss him. To fuck him.

“Because no one can touch you like me, that deep,” he added, brushing your lips with his before pulling away.

“I’m not just talking about here,” he said, pointing at  your heart with his finger. “But also here,” he added, grabbing your pussy. “You need me. No one can fuck you like me. That deep, right?”

You swallowed loudly. Fuck, you needed him, deep and rough. He probably saw it in your eyes, but instead of leaning in and kissing you, he grabbed his cigarette and lit it. He smiled as he let the smoke out.

“Come on baby, don't give me that ‘piss off’ look. I’m gonna give you what you want,” he said, pressing his hard cock against the fabric of his black pants and pushing himself against you. He turned the cigarette over to offer it to you, and you took a drag.

“Yeah, whatever,” you said.

“Had some good dicks in the last few weeks?”

“Fucked a few. Can’t say they were that good, though.”

“Awww,” he said dramatically, before adding, “you fucked them raw? Do I have to use a condom, baby?”

“No. You’re the only dick that I fuck raw.”

He chuckled and threw his cigarette on the ground. You rolled your eyes and in two seconds he was fully against you, crushing his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

He was never aggressive or possessive, always beautifully sensual and free. No strings attached, and that's exactly what you needed. Someone who wouldn't ask you something you couldn't or wouldn't want to give.

Each time he’d kiss you, each time you’d fuck, you never knew if it was the last time. Didn't know if you'd end up getting bored with him like with everyone else. 

You doubted he would, on the other hand. He was always patient, never seemed to take your mood swings badly. He never said ’no’ to you, even if he knew you just needed to use him, somehow. Even if you were sometimes hard on him. 

He was probably right: he loved you in his own, unconventional way, and that twisted relationship was oddly the most stable part of your life.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he kissed your neck, your eyes already rolling to the back of your head just at the feeling of his soft mustache brushing your skin, then his rougher beard that he loved to rub against the soft skin of your neck. Just like he loved to graze it against your inner thighs each time he ate you out.

He straightened up to look at you then licked your lips with the tip of his tongue, your mind suddenly blank.

“Need it bad, huh,” he chuckled. It wasn’t a question. Yeah, you needed it bad, but still, you shrugged.

“Come on baby, let me in,” he said against your lips, his familiar tobacco breath invading your nostrils a little more. “And I'm not talking about your cunt, she’s already droolin’, right?”

You didn’t answer and just pulled away from him to lead the way inside your house, to the dining room. You could feel his eyes fixed on your ass. You didn't even have to sway your hips to know he'd follow you anywhere at that moment.

He pushed the front door behind him, quickening his pace to be right behind you and caress the roundness of your ass before seizing your hips to make you stop.

“Mmmm, baby… I never get enough of this body,” he murmured in your ear, his hard cock against you. You wanted to say something clever, or at least something with your usual “whatever” attitude, but his touch was overwhelming you.

He slid his hands up to your breasts and cupped them sensually, his nose against your hair, he breathed it in as he said, “damn you’re so hot,” almost to himself. 

He squeezed your breasts slightly, perfectly, then pulled down your neckline, freeing your nipples swollen by desire. His hand slithered down your spine to your ass and then he grabbed his bulge.

“Shit, I’m so fucking hard,” he said, his voice not as playful as usual. “Turn around baby,” he added. You did as he asked, trying to get your composure back as you looked up at him.

He cupped your tits again and took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and licked it, making you whine “shit” softly, as you ran your fingers in his hair and pressed his face against your skin. He chuckled, so sure of himself, that he was even hotter than a second before, and sucked your other nipple. He coated it with his saliva then peppered your chest with kisses, up towards your neck and finally your lips, his tongue quickly pushed through yours, while he grabbed the hem of your short dress then pulled it over your head. He was in a rush and your head was dizzy.

His hands were rubbing your body as if he didn't know what to touch or where to stop, but he finally covered your pussy with his full hand, his fingers brushing the wet garment.

“Mmm yeah…” he said, and you didn’t take your eyes off him as he unbuttoned his shirt then freed his hard cock from his pants. The most gorgeous cock you'd ever seen, with a fat tip and a large vein that you loved to roll under your tongue.

“Come on, baby. I’ve been thinking about fucking your mouth since you called me,” he said, slowly jacking his thick cock with his fist, his stare full of lust. 

He was insanely beautiful and hot as hell, with his shirt open over his broad chest, two chains resting at the bottom of his neck. 

“Yeah? Well I’ve been thinking about cumming in yours since I called you,” you replied.

“Damn, you’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?” he smiled. 

“Mmm… clothes off, red flag guy,” you told him, then sat on the couch, feet firmly planted on the ground, legs spread. Shameless. 

Panties still on, you knew he loved to remove them himself. 

“And light me a cigarette, big boy, will you?”

You were in charge again. He was letting you be. 

A silent game between the two of you with rules that never needed to be stated.

He took his pack out of his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette then handed it to you, letting the smoke escape from him towards you. Then he undressed, slowly and sensually.

You watched him getting naked in front of you, dragging on your cigarette from time to time, arm resting along the backrest. He always made you feel safe, free, powerful.

He remained standing for a few moments, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. His hard cock pointed towards the ceiling, slowly jacking off again after spitting into his palm. Even though the precum was flowing from his reddened slit.

He knelt down and placed his hands on your knees before moving up the inside of your thighs, the soft rub making you shiver. When he grabbed the hem of your panties, you lifted your hips to help him to pull them down slowly, revealing your glistening pussy and the butt plug you had inserted just before he arrived.

“Shit, baby…” his husky voice and eyes full of desire made you drool a little more. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Fuck… Take a drag, baby,” he asked, unable to take his eyes off your two holes. He spread your thighs wider by pushing on them with his shoulders. You exhaled the blue smoke slowly, looking down at him, kneeling between your thighs. So broad, so strong, but still at your knees, leaving you in full control of your femininity. It made him even more beautiful, even more attractive, even more sensual. He grabbed one of your thighs and kissed the sensitive skin, then placed it on his shoulder.

“Fuck you're so hot. A true free spirit, aren't you?”

He didn't let you answer and leaned down, running his nose up your folds. He growled as he licked them with the tip of his tongue, then moved away slightly to look at your cunt and ass.

He seized the plug and pulled on it slightly, until the widest part reached your ring, making you moan.

“Shit,” he said, unable to say more as he watched your muscle tighten every time the metal spread it apart.

“You always let them go down on you?” he asked, moving the plug deliciously back and forth, before sticking his tongue into your wet cunt. You let your head fall back against the back of the couch. He had always been a really good fuck, but he always ate you out divinely well, leaving you breathless as soon as he dived in.

“Mmm?” he insisted.

“Shit… you’re the jealous type now?” you pantered.

“No. It turns me on to think about it,” he answered, grabbing one of your breasts with his hands.

“Damn, Lucien you're twisted…” you whimpered. “Not always… shit… I… not all men are good at it,” you stammered. 

He chuckled, so sure of himself, pushing a finger into your cunt already stuffed by his tongue. It was like he was all over your body, boobs, pussy and ass, and it was intoxicating.

“I think you forgot about your cig, baby,” he said, teasing. He wasn't one of those men. Of course he wasn't. He was so good at this. 

You crushed the cigarette in the ashtray by the armrest. He was so good that sometimes he would make you come in less time than it took you to finish your cig. Then he’d grab it from your trembling fingers to take a drag while you were still trying to catch your breath. 

His hand left your tit to press your hip against the sofa and he pushed his tongue into your drooling hole. 

“Gonna come for me? Yeah, you're gonna come for me. Soak my face, baby girl.”

You used him to get off, rubbing yourself against his nose, hands tight on his head, thighs spread as wide as possible, giving him full access to your core. You were so aroused that some of your wetness was leaking down to the plug, making it even easier for him to fuck you with it.

“Lucien,” you whined. His hand tightened on your flesh, letting you use him like you needed until you came in his mouth.

He pushed two fingers in your cunt and looked the way your body was squeezing his thick digits pumping your cunt and the plug, until it finally stopped. 

He pushed the metal all the way in then stood up and brushed your cheek as you looked up at him and straightened up, his cock inches from your lips. He held it tightly and you licked his shaft from his fingers to his tip, unable to tease him more. He growled when you took him in your mouth, focusing on the tip at first then deeper and deeper, getting your throat used to his width, and your saliva started to flow down his shaft to his fingers. Your hand caressed his balls full of cum.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” he murmured.

You pushed his hand from his shaft and jerked him off slowly, licking his balls that you could never resist for long. He whimpered when you took one of them in your mouth, the thin skin rolling between your lips. 

“You're so easy, Lucien,” you chuckled. It was your turn to make him fall apart, and you loved it.

“Shit, yeah, I'm easy with this damn mouth,” he agreed. “That’s it baby. Keep licking them.”

You pulled them up then tasted the skin behind them, gaze looking up at him but his eyes were closed, his hands resting on your head.

“You don’t want a cigarette, Lucien?” you bantered, then licked him again from his scrotum to his ass that you teased with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck… I can barely breathe, no I can’t smoke right now, you little minx,” he whimpered as you took a ball in your mouth. You finally released it with a needy moan. Your core was already filled with warmth again and begging for release. 

“Shit, you need it deep, right? Wanna ride it?” he asked as he held your elbow to get you up.

“No, want you to fuck me.”

“Come here then, baby. All fours. Lemme see that ass.”

You settled and he knelt behind you, rubbing his cock against your soaked folds, before grabbing the plug and pulling on it slightly, making your ring contract instinctively as it was stretching you.

He chuckled, then mocked gently, “that’s cute. As if he doesn’t want to get fucked.” He nestled his fat tip at your sloppy pussy then pushed in, and you stopped breathing for a minute under the feeling of his cock splitting you in two.

“How do you need me, baby? Need me to fix you up for a while, until next time?”

You moaned, feeling him push in your two holes.

“Tell me,” he insisted, filling you with his whole length and brushing against your cervix.

“Yeah, fuck…. Yeah, I need you to fix me.”

“Damn, baby,” he said, pulling out to eat your pussy from behind, and he removed the plug to press his nose against your ass before coming up to lick it.

“Oh god,” you whined, eyes rolling in the back of your head and fists squeezing the sofa cushions. He spat on your ass and watched the saliva run down and slide inside before licking at it, pressing his tongue against it then pushing in. Your ass opened up to let him reach inside and you couldn’t hold back a loud moan as he was lapping at your hole.

He spanked you and focused his tongue on your most private place before grabbing your ass with his two hands. You wanted to beg him to stuff you until he’d fill you with his seed. 

“Lucien, please… Fuck me.”

He straightened up and pressed his tip against your cunt, pushing in slowly to let you feel all of him sliding in.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined.

Leaning on your forearms, you didn't move, letting him thrust into you, filling you so slowly that you could feel the vein of his cock brushing your insides.

“Oh, god, that’s good Lucien, fuck…”

“Yeah? Always takin’ me so good, baby…”

He started to fuck you, his thumb pressed against your ass, growls and moans escaping from his lips. He was watching you contract on his digit as he was filling your two holes. 

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Harder, please,” you whined.

You knew he would do it for you, in the way you needed, even though you knew he would want to take his time, to get you used to him. But he had quickly understood why you called him. Because he would answer your needs, because you were safe with him. Because his cock was so big it was perfect for what you were looking for, to forget everything else. He knew you were scared to be loved, or to love, and didn't want that kind of relationship. That this way of fucking was what you needed. For now anyway, and maybe forever. He always smiled when you called him a red flag, unaware of that game he was still playing for you. He could find it funny, how wrapped he was around your finger, although you didn't even know it. Or maybe you just didn't want to see it.

He was rolling into you, faster than he wanted. Harder than he wanted. Because if it was the only way he could have you, he would never say no. Because he knew you wouldn’t fall for him, and it was probably for the best.

“Fuck, baby… your little cunt is squeezing me so hard… You know I can never say no to you, right?” he asked, sliding his hand down to your clit, eager to make you come. His entire length was pushing in and out, fucking your insides like no one else could. Not as deep, not as wide.

“Make me come, Lucien, please,” you whimpered.

His balls squeezed him painfully, waiting to give you what you wanted. When you came, tightening on his cock so fucking hard, it was enough for him to spit his cum deep into your core while he panted even louder than you, mouth crushed against your shoulder, nibling at it, his weight pushing on your back. You leaned forward and felt his length leave your cunt and his cum flowed when you lay down on the couch, under him. Already feeling so desperately empty.

He leaned towards you and kissed you. He knew you didn't want more, and wouldn't allow more. Didn't want some bullshit proximity.

He sat on the couch, putting your calves on his lap, while you stayed lying there. He lit up a cigarette for you, then another one for him. You smoked them silently until he got up and put his clothes on.

“Till next time?” he asked.

“Till next time,” you replied.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[highway-143]

baby take my hand - nishimura riki

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: nishimura riki x fem reader

warnings: loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, pain, etc.

summary: your relationship with riki has always been amazing, but youre finally ready to take it to the next level.

song: connected (bang chan) - stray kids

(proofread)

"riki stop!" you giggle as your boyfriend tickles your stomach. a movie played loudly in the background, drowning out both of your laughter. your arms and legs flailed around riki as he continued to tackle you into the couch, his hands running around your abdomen

"i cant!" his bright smile shows itself in the dim light of his living room, making your heart flutter. "youre just too adorable!" he chuckles and finally takes his fingers off of you. you admittedly miss his touch, but thankfully he lies next to you, pulling you in his arms to close the gap between his chest and your back.

"you smell good," he says, his lips against your neck muffling his voice. "i could smell you forever"

you blush and lace your fingers through his, your intertwined hands pressed against your stomach, holding your bodies close together

riki loved being close to you. cuddling, holding hands, and soft kisses were frequent when the two of you spent time together. you were practically inseperable at this point.

you loved riki so much, it felt like a physical pain in your chest to be away from him for too long. he was the most precious piece of your heart now. nothing in the world could change that

so now you began to think. about sex. a lot.

you havent had that... discussion... with him yet, its always been a little too embarrassing and nerve wracking to bring up.

but you couldnt deny the steady feeling of emptiness between your legs, especially at times when he held you this close. you were getting more and more ready to jump that next hurdle, with his hand holding yours along the way.

"ki?" you ask, rubbing circles over his knuckles with your thumbs

"hmm?" he hums against your neck

"can we talk?"

"whats up babe?" he sits up and pulls you so you are facing eachother, cross legged and still on the couch.

you squint your eyes and clench your fists, very nervous. "i want to have sex with you."

he stares at you in shock. his eyebrows furrow adorably, and his lips slowly form a smirk.

"you want to.... let me finally fuck you? for real?"

"yes i-"

before you can finish he pounces on you, pinning you under him. "ive been waiting for you, babe" he whispers sultrily in your ear. " you dont know how long ive wanted this"

your face flushes under his intense gaze. "if id known i would have said so sooner, im so-"

"ah! dont be sorry. not even for a second. i want you to be ready when you are ready, not when you want to appease me because my dick is hard."

if its even possible, your face reddens further. he lets out a sexy laugh at your embarrassment. "what, do you think thats weird?"

"no, its just different... i dont know what to do or how to do it well, and im nervous, ki"

"dont be nervous, babe. you know its both of our first times. you dont need to be embarrassed with me. especially not with me"

"thanks, baby"

you wring your hands and look around the room. nothing seems right. its too bright, too cramped, too quiet, even with the movie in the background. the silence between you and riki is deafening.

"so did you just say that in general or do you want to do it now?" he teases, a wide grin forming on his insanely kissable lips.

you slap his arm. "yeah i mean now, i just dont really know what to do." you cast your gaze downward, looking at the hem of your shorts that was being rumpled in your fingers.

"then lets find out together." riki grabs your hands in his and pulls you off the couch, guiding you down the hallway of his small apartment.

when you reach his room, he puts you on the bed, shutting the door and turning off the lights. the faint glow of dusk seeps through his windows and spills into the bedroom, lighting the room in a romantic haze that has your senses on high alert. every slight motion has you on edge, anticipation rising as riki steps closer and closer to you.

"what do you want to do?" he asks, eyes softly gazing into yours, looking for any response

"i... god this is so embarrassing!" you bury your face in your hands, and riki chuckles in amusement.

"babe, look at me. please." he pulls your hands down by your wrists, bringing your gaze to him. "this isnt about being perfect. or looking perfect. its going to be sloppy, its going to be hard. but i know that we can both take it, and that we will love each other no matter what. right?"

you nod your head slowly, tears threatening to fall onto your cheeks.

"words, please" riki begs from his kneeling position below you

"right"

he smiles "okay. so where do you want to start?"

"i... i guess we should maybe take off our clothes?"

"probably a good idea"

you both start removing your clothing. your hands tremble under your fingers as you pull your shirt over your head.

and although you cant see it, riki's are too. he nervously pulls his pants down, hands shaking like he had roo much coffee.

you and riki take eachother in. your whole body heats up as his gaze trails over your bare skin. it felt so irregular. nobody has ever viewed your body this way. you stare at riki's gorgeous abs, slowly making your way to his cock.

it was half hard, not fully aroused, yet still bigger than what you thought it would be. you worry how youre supposed to fit him in you. but damn, it was just to beautiful. the tip was a pinkish color, and you could just make out a vein traveling down his shaft, dissapearing into his pelvis.

"holy shit, youre beautiful." riki says, jaw dropped as he rakes his eyes over your insecurities. you dont mind your body, but hell, you couldnt ignore the curve of your stomach, or thickness of your thighs. you use your hands to cover your stomach, but riki mives them away.

"dont you dare try and cover yourself. you are absolutely gorgeous. do you hear me?" his voice is practically a growl as he tuggs your wrists

"oky, ki." you say, smiling up at him.

he takes your lips in a soft kiss, pulling your face to his by cupping his hands on your cheeks.

"i love you so much" you say, pulling back to look at him

"i love you more" he whispers into the darkness. "what do you want next?"

"no, its your turn to choose what we do," you try to be teasing, but only feel nervousness

"well lets get on the bed. go put your head on the pillows." he points to the empty bed behind you.

when you are settled, riki climbs over you and places soft kisses on your face, caressing your hot skin with his lips as his sturdy arms hold himself up above you. you let him kiss his way down to your neck, slowly sucking on the skin near your collarbone as you wrapped your arms around his back.

he pulls away and kneels at your waist, looking at you for any sign of regret.

"are you ready?" he searches your eyes for uncertainty, but you nod in approval

"words"

"yes," you breathe

he pulls himself in between your legs and spreads them wide, getting a perfectly unobscured view of your glistening pussy

"already wet for me babe?" his eyes dialate from pure enjoyment. "and i havent even touched you yet"

"please," you scoff, "you know what youve done"

"mmm" he moans as he slowly aligns his tip with your entrance "are you ready?"

you gab his wrist and grip his hand tightly. "lets do it ki." you grit your teeth an he slowly pushes his tip onto your opening, only for it to slide up, refusing to enter.

you moan from the friction of his dick rubbing your cunt. he chuckles and pushes back do your entrance, even slower in entry this time.

but again, he slides right out.

every time he tries to breach your walls, they tighten and refuse to let him in. by the eleventh time, riki groans in pain. his cock now fully hard and throbbing in need, and his tip is coated in a smeared mixture of your combined pre-cum

you lay back, squeezing his hand as if its your life force as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. "i... i cant do it, ki" you sob. "its too big, i cant do it.... i cant do it..."

your tears paint trails on your face while riki squeezes your hand even harder. "you can, baby. i know you can. do you want me to try and stretch you out?"

you nod and choke back another sob, pulling yourself together.

this time, riki doesnt ask for words. he sees how distressed you are, and places a kiss on your hand, still held in his.

his free hand works its way between your thighs, finding your entrance. he smoothly slides one finger in, rubbing it along your gummy walls as he stretches your hole further. he slides a second finger in. then a third. and a fourth

your cunt burns from the pressure as his fingers glide inside you, not with the intent to pleasure, no. that was for his dick tonight.

riki removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he moves his cock back to where he was before.

you stare at him, completely in shock, as he slurps your juices off of his own digits, a slutty smile curving the corners of his lips as he sucked on the sweet liquid

when he pulls his hand out of his mouth and back to its guiding position at his dick, you ready yourself, holding his hand tightly.

he spreads your legs as wide as they can go and finally shoves his tip into your pussy.

you gasp at the stretch. it was definetly more than his fingers, but fuck, it felt like heaven once the stinging subsided

riki moaned in joy as your core squeezed him nicely. "oh fuck, babe, thats fucking tight"

he slowly pushes deeper and deeper into you until he cant go any further. only 2/3 of his length fit inside of you, but it fit in you perfectly.

"baby, you are fucking wonderful. im so proud of you" he says, giving your hand a faint squeeze "do you want to see if we can fit the rest of me in?"

your eyes look wild at his words, darting from his face to what you can see of his abdomen.

"you... you meant thats not it?" you ask, ready to cry again. "i dont think i can"

"thats okay baby, youre doing wonderful" riki takes your other hand and squeezes both "this feels fucking perfect"

"im sorry, ki" you say, the tears that were being held back slowly falling down your cheeks now "im sorry i cant take all of you. i want to take all of you, i do, but its so much"

he looks down at you with soft eyes. "how about we try something else?"

you nod again, and riki slowly pulls out of you and picks you up. he flips over so you are straddling his waist, and he is where you were

"now try," he says, helping you position yourself on him.

you slide his dick into you, sinking down on it inch by inch until you finally have all of it inside.

you and riki grin in satisfaction as you settle down onto his pelvis, but that doesnt last long. he smoothly flips you back to where you were before, only now he is buried fully inside your aching core

"do you want me to move?" he asks, gripping your hand again

"fuck yes. please go"

riki starts pulling out, then thrusting back in. his motions start out lazy and slow, wanting you to feel pleasure instead of pain.

"faster, ki. i can take it"

he immediately quickens his pace, his hips slapping hard against your ass. his hand grips your thigh, leaving marks on the skin as he held you open

his other hand still held yours. you squeezed it as you felt his dick pounding deeper and deeper inside of you, making you see white

"shit, baby... im- im gonna cum" riki groans, his head hands limply off his shoulders, the tips of his hair slightly ticking your stomach

"then- ah- do it ki, cum in m- me"

your body shudders as you feel your orgasm building up, the band threatening to break while riki thrusted hastily into you

he holds your thigh tighter as orgasm takes over, thick jets of cum spilling into your cunt, filling up what little space you had left

your body snaps from the feeling of being so full, twitching and clenching with riki as you both rode the high, hand in hand.

riki slumps next to you, pulling his dick out. it left you with an emty feeling, but he pulled you closer to his chest to make up for it.

that didnt last long though. he immediately shot up and walked into the bathroom, only giving you a "stay there" to go on

he walked back out, his boxers back on, with a towel in his hand. he pressed the cool cloth to your forehead, slowly working it over your body until it cleaned everything, even the dripping mess between your legs

he tosses the fabric away and lays back down, pulling your back to his chest and wrapping his arms around you again. you take his hands, whispering into the darkness of his bedroom

"ill hold you forever" you say

"and i will hold you longer"

a.n.- dear god im crying. this was so sweet to write. riki is def the type of bf who isnt afraid to tease but fs knows what he needs to do to make you feel good. but now my heart is hurting bc man, i need this boy in my life like right now. okay time to put me back in my cage before i say smth more out of pocket

please reblog if you liked it, and comment with ideas bc i need more XD

[teenidlegirl]

⠀✸⠀⠀𝓑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝓞𝐅 𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓜𝐄𝐒𝐒⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟏⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀you’re nine months pregnant and your baby could arrive at any moment. you and miguel are excited until he’s called back for a dangerous mission, left to deal with the hardest decision ever, leaving you and the baby.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, heartbreak, arguments, emotional distress, firearms, mentions of violence, mentions of death, military shenanigans, sorta hurt/comfort

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter⠀ ❜

time has passed and you’re 9 months pregnant and your due date is three weeks away. while feeling utterly exhausted, you and miguel are excited for your daughter to come and start your life as a family. everything is prepared when the time comes. hospital bag filled with everything you need, nursery set up looking pretty for your baby girl, the entire apartment is baby-proof which was miguel’s doing. until you find another apartment or a house, which miguel has been house-hunting for months now, your apartment will be your home for your little family. you two couldn’t be more excited for this.

you, especially, are excited to pop out this baby because damn you are tired as hell. you told miguel no more babies after your first because pregnancy is exhausting. well, at least no more babies for a long time since who knows if you and miguel wish to have more in the future. he can’t blame you after seeing the exhaustion on your face during these last few months. but for right now, this baby is all you need and you can’t wait to meet her.

“i just realized we don’t have a name yet.”

you and miguel sit outside the patio of your apartment, sunbathing while enjoying a bowl of fruit. you wear a simple periwinkle babydoll dress with daisies, your large baby bump sticks out adorably in it. the bowl of fruit rests on top of your belly as a table, a tiny plastic bowl of course, easier to eat from. your legs rests comfortably on miguel’s lap as his large, calloused hands caressed them.

“oh, you’re right. we haven’t thought about one.” his brows furrowed slightly, thinking as miguel takes a few grapes from the bowl.

“all this time, three weeks until she’s born and we still haven’t thought of a name for her.” you giggle, munching on a few of your favorite fruits.

miguel huffs, grinning. “great parents, huh?”

you think as you feed him a strawberry. “any ideas?”

he ponders for a moment of possible names but nothing comes to mind. “not really, ¿tú?”

no ideas popped in your mind. “nope.”

“what about your name?”

you wipe off that smirk on his stupid handsome face by feeding him another strawberry.

“we’re not following that damn hispanic tradition of naming your first kid after you.”

miguel chuckles at your bluntness. “just an idea.”

“my sister wasn’t named after my mom because she hates her name and didn’t want to do that to my sister so we’re gonna do the same thing.”

“you hate your name?” one of his thick brows arched.

“well… no. i didn’t say that! there’s one person in this family with my name and that’s me.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “i’m just messing with you, bebé. but i love your name.” he leans forward and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you roll your eyes, shyly smiling. “thanks.”

while munching on fresh fruit, no name ideas popped in either of your heads.

“ugh! why is it so difficult to come up with a name?” you slouch in your seat grumpily.

“we still have time, we’ll figure out something.” miguel reassures you, rubbing your swollen belly. “don’t stress about it, okay? it’s not good for both of you. it’ll come to us one day.”

a sigh escapes your lips. “hopefully.”

another kiss on your forehead. “for now it’ll be princesa.” his hand caresses your swollen tummy which results a kick from your baby. “she likes it.”

you hum happily, leaning against him. “i love it when you call her that, it melts my heart.”

his arm wraps around your shoulders, embracing you comfortably as his other hand grabs the bowl from on top of your belly and holds it. “i’m glad to know. she is mi princesa y tú mi reina.”

you lift your head up and look at him with a loving smile. “té quiero, mi osito.”

miguel’s heart flutters every time you call him that. you consider him your big teddy bear and he loves it. resting the fruit bowl beside him on the sofa, his hand gingerly cups your face as he leans closer and captures your lips in a gentle, loving kiss. your hand does the same and cup his cheek. the kiss is interrupted by a faint kick in your tummy.

you pull away with a giggle, caressing his cheek. “every time we kiss, she always kicks.”

“maybe she’s happy that her parents are in love.” a silly grin plastered on his face.

“they are and her parents love her.”

you and miguel go in for another kiss, resulting in another faint kick. you agree with miguel, your baby girl is happy that her parents love each other. you want nothing more than your daughter to grow up with loving parents and who love each other, to demonstrate a loving relationship.

later in the evening, you and miguel just finished having dinner. tonight was ravioli, a craving of yours which miguel had no problem making. he loves cooking for you, one of his many acts of service. you also love his cooking, he could be a chef as a side job. you told miguel once that he should have his own cooking show. he laughed and said that you should be the one with a cooking show, he adores your cooking. maybe a couple cooking show.

you rest on the couch watching a movie while miguel cleans up the kitchen. the man won’t let you touch or lift anything, just like throughout your entire pregnancy but is even more insistent about it since you could pop at any moment. in the beginning you were against it but not so much anymore considering your basketball sized tummy. besides, you get to watch your boyfriend maneuver around. admiring those bulging muscles ripple as he moves. biceps, shoulders, back, thighs. all so scrumptious.

once the dishes were washed and stored away, miguel makes a quick visit to the bathroom but not before leaving a kiss on your forehead then finally making his way over there. after doing his business and while washing his hands, he feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket. quickly drying his hands with a towel, miguel reached behind with a hand, grabs his phone and sees who’s calling.

‘IRONHEAD’

flash is calling him and that’s not a good sign. there are only two reason why he would call him: either for a mission or get-together with the team. miguel really hopes it is the second option even though he isn’t in the mood to go out, not with you about to give birth soon and he told the guys that.

exhaling deeply, miguel presses the green button and brings up the phone to his ear. it was a very long, hectic conversation. frustrated groans, mumbling, and swear words thrown around. it was so long that you eventually got worried since he has never taken that long in the bathroom. miguel knew you would eventually make your way over here. finally, he hangs up and heads back to the living room with not so good news hanging heavily on his shoulders.

you’re about to get up until miguel enters the room. the relief smile on your face falters when you notice his anxious expression. thick brows furrowed and eyes filled with apprehension.

“what’s wrong?” now your brows furrowed.

another long, deep breath of anxiety escapes his lips. “we need to talk about something…”

suddenly, your heart starts beating fast with anxiety. oh that isn’t good and honestly you’re scared. the moment miguel sits down next to you, the tension settles in. thick, heavy, and unsettling. both of you are nervous wrecks but miguel is more anxious since he’s about to tell you the worse news imaginable. he can already envision the tears of anger and frustration that will soon come in a few seconds.

“flash called me…” miguel starts off, his hand seeking yours and gently holds it. god, he feels like dying of anxiety. too afraid to speak the truth but mainly your reaction and where this conversation goes. “there’s a mission that i can’t back out.”

your brows furrowed a bit more. a mission, okay. the man is in the military, it’s bound for missions to come up. however, they can vary and the apprehension on miguel’s face say this isn’t an ordinary mission.

a shaky breath escapes his lips as miguel prepares to spill the unfortunate news of all.

“it’s in south america and… i don’t know long it’s gonna take and i have to fly out tomorrow.”

you feel your heart drop so suddenly. a plague of anxiety invades your veins completely, coursing through your body so viciously.

“t-tomorrow? what do you mean tomorrow?” you panic. “you can’t leave, not right now.”

“i know, baby, i know.” miguel squeezed your hand reassuringly, his heart breaking at your panic state. “i don’t want to leave either but i can’t back out on this, i have no choice—”

“you do have a choice!” you stand up abruptly, as much as you can due to your heavy tummy. “you don’t have to leave, miguel! you can’t leave!”

his heart continues breaking. “mi reina, siéntate por favor.” miguel tries to reach out for your hand to calm you down but you back away from his attempt.

“no, miguel! you can’t leave! she’s almost here and you’re leaving?! i need you here! she needs you here!”

he knew it would reach to this breaking point. you panicking, crying, and begging to him to stay. each cry is a stab to his heart. miguel hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the reason for it.

miguel stands up, a remorseful look in his eyes. desperate to reach out and pull you back into his arms. “mi reina, i know. i want nothing more than to stay here with you and be here for you and our daughter. i don’t wanna leave you two, it’s the last thing i want and i fucking hate leaving you. i told flash no many times, that i refuse to go. he understood, he and the guys don’t want to do this either but command left us with no choice and said the mission won’t be successful without me.”

all you do is keep shaking your head no, refusing to believe this is happening. the love of your life, the father of your child is leaving you for god knows how long before the birth of your daughter. suddenly, it feels like your world is crumbling. everything is crashing down like a paper plane. one minute you were enjoying fresh fruit and sunbathing while discussing possible baby names, then your boyfriend has to leave you and your baby for a mission in another fucking country for an unknown amount of time. how the fuck did things change so drastically?

“no, you can’t.” you keep shaking your head in denial as tears spill uncontrollably. “you can’t leave. she’s almost here, miguel. she’s almost here and i can’t do this alone, please don’t do this.”

miguel’s heart continues breaking immensely at the sight of your tears. it triggers his own tears to fall. “lo siento, mi reina. lo siento mucho.” he attempts to reach out for your hand and you don’t fight back, bringing you closer to him into his hold.

“miguel, por favor.” you look up at him with pleading, glossy eyes. “please don’t leave me… not again…”

fuck, that shatters his heart completely.

he left you once, broke your heart, broke your trust, and he forever hated himself for that. now miguel has to do the one thing he swore to leave do again, only this time he had no choice. now he hates being in the military. he has to leave you and it fucking hurts, especially to leave you when your baby will arrive soon. miguel doesn’t want to miss the birth of his daughter. he needs to be there for her, for you.

why did it have to be now?

at this moment, he hated being in the military.

“lo siento mucho, mi reina.” his calloused hands gently cup your face and wipe your never-ending tears. “i don’t wanna leave you and our baby. not again, mi reina. i’m so so sorry…”

your apartment is filled with the sounds of your sobs. both of you are crying at this moment. you completely break down and miguel doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his chest and embrace you tightly, feeling your trembling figure in his arms. afraid to let you go, doesn’t ever want to let you go.

the rest of the night was a sobbing catastrophe. the four walls of your apartment concealed with your heartbroken sobs and pleads.

what if he doesn’t come back?

what if he’s killed in combat?

what if, instead of celebrating the birth of your daughter, you are mourning the death of your boyfriend?

the excitement of becoming a family now ruined.

the day you and miguel have been dreading has come. the day he leaves for south america. since you’ve been crying all night, you feel utterly exhausted besides feeling depressed. you sat there in bed all miserable watching miguel pack up and get ready for his departure. every time your eyes meet, miguel had a guilty, remorseful expression. it pained him to see how miserable you looked. those tearful eyes silently begging him to stay, stop packing, dive back into bed with you, and stay with you forever. miguel hated this just as much as you do.

despite how much he hates to leave you, there is only one person miguel trusts to take care of you while he’s gone. he contacted his mother and ask her to stay here with you until he returns. the woman did not hesitate to agree and make her way over. you didn’t bother to argue, too busy being miserable. but truth be told, you actually don’t mind conchata staying here and helping out. you would love to spend more time with her, you know she’d do anything for you and the baby. she’s pretty much your mother-in-law. you agree with the plan. however, you still wish for miguel to stay.

through teary tears, you watch miguel return from the bathroom clad in all black attire. even feeling miserable, he still manages to take your breath away. he approaches the nightstand, opens the drawer, and takes out his pistol that he keeps here ever since he’s been staying at your place. protection purposes of course. miguel won’t take any risks, especially when it comes you and the baby. no harm has come yet the man is accustomed to securing and protecting. after checking the clip of ammo and putting the safety on, miguel shoves the pistol in the back of his pants and covers it with his shirt. his eyes meet yours once again but this time you look away, concealing the tears already spilling. his heart aches every time, so much guilt plaguing his body.

eventually, conchata arrives to see the heartbreaking sight in front of her. her son prepared to leave for another dangerous mission and her future daughter-in-law silently crying. you and miguel are in the living room by the time she gets there. she greets her eldest with a hug and kiss before approaching you.

“oh mija…” she gently pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace which you accept immediately and softly sob into her shoulder.

miguel observed solemnly, heartbroken for you and dreading his departure. he really doesn’t want to go, not to leave you crying and begging for him. he didn’t want this yet he was left with no choice. the ringing from his phone snaps him out of those depressing thoughts. a text message from flash saying he and the guys are here waiting in the car outside.

it’s time to leave, unfortunately.

breaking your embrace, conchata gives your arms a comforting rub with a soft reassuring smile before walking over to say goodbye to her son. miguel embraces his mother, exhaling deeply.

“té amo mucho, mijo. lo prometo. cuídate mucho, mijo, por favor.” she glances up at him. “make sure to come back to your family.”

you and your daughter. his beautiful family.

miguel silently promises to not allow his mother to lose another son, to not leave you a widow and single mother, to not leave his daughter without a father.

he will come back, he’ll make sure of it.

“lo prometo, mamá. té amo.” he plants a kiss on her scalp and embraces her one last time before he moves on to you, conchata stepping aside and turning around to give you both privacy.

instinctively, your head starts shaking as tears swell in your eyes for the nth time. “please don’t go…” you grip onto his shirt as if you’re terrified to let him go.

his heart continues to shatter. “lo siento, mi reina.” miguel’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to him, as much as your swollen belly allows you which is lightly pressed against his abs. “i promise to come back to you and our baby. i swear it, mi amor. i will come back to you both.”

his sincere words make you break down uncontrollably. you know miguel will do everything he can to come back home to you and the baby. you know he doesn’t want to leave as much as you do. you sob into his chest as his arms tighten around you, holding your trembling form. one last hug before he disappears for who knows how long. one last time to be with each other before parting ways.

miguel leans down, you reach up and capture each other’s lips for one final kiss. a kiss that you wish it could last forever. calloused hands gingerly cup your face. you grip onto his wrists tightly, afraid to let him go. savoring this one final kiss, savoring the taste of each other before drifting away. miguel gives you one last kiss then kneels in front of your swollen tummy and adorns it with loving kisses. your fingers gently brush through those soft brown curls one last time.

“i promise to come back to you, mi princesa.” he whispers against your belly, earning a faint kick which makes you both smile sadly. rising to his full height towering you, he cups your cheek. “i’ll come back to you, mi reina. té quiero tanto.”

“té quiero.” you desperately reach out to tug on his dog tags and bring him down for another final kiss which is sadly interrupted by miguel’s phone ringing, making him groan in frustration.

miguel whispers you a final ‘i love you’ before parting ways and grabbing his black duffle bag from the kitchen counter. you start sobbing more as you watch him preparing to leave. conchata turns around and approached you with open arms. sighing heavily, miguel turns around to look at you both one last time with a remorseful expression before opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him. you broke down once again as you watch the love of your life leave for the second time. conchata brings you into her arms and embraces you deeply as you sob. the four walls of your little apartment conceal the heartbroken sound of your sobs and wails.

your life is changed once again by a unfortunate incident. however, this time hurt much more.

that same guilty, agitated expression never faltered as miguel geared up and sit in his seat of the helicopter. his clothes covered with tactical gear. bulletproof vest, tactical helmet with night vision goggles attached, another pair of goggles that are ballistic meant for eye protection, his pistol as a secondary weapon stored the holster strapped on his right thigh, and additional equipment. a rifle in his hands while waiting for takeoff.

the rest of the squad are strapped in. flash next to miguel, ben and kaine seated across from them. as the engine starts, flash notices miguel’s somber expression which causes him to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. miguel flinched at the contact but immediately recognizes his teammate.

“you’ll make it back to her, both of them.” the blonde gives his teammate’s shoulder a light pat.

miguel sighs heavily, lowering his head with a head shake. “i feel fucking terrible leaving her. leaving at the worst fucking time imaginable.”

the blonde frowns remorsefully. “i know man, i gave command shit but of course they don’t give a fuck. lets just hope this shit isn’t a long one and you’ll be back in time before your kid comes.”

the brunette simply nods. miguel really hopes he’ll be back in time before the baby is born so he can be there for you when the day comes. sitting by your side, holding your hand in his as you welcome your daughter into the world. a dream he wants to come true. he’ll do anything to make it come true.

“appreciate it, ironhead.”

flash pats his shoulder a once again. “always, man.”

the helicopter finally takes off and the men’s journey to south america begins. throughout the flight, miguel only thinks about you. never once you left his mind. he knows you’re struggling with his departure but his mother is there to care for you. he knows you’re safe and being taken care of. but the guilt still lingers in his heart. he would rather be at home with you than stuck on this damn helicopter. however, miguel will do whatever he can to come home to you.

he won’t disappear forever this time.

𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[ssentimentals]

Hiii!! It is been a long time since i got here 🤧, I hope you are doing good. I saw the new request prompts and the number 47. Sickfic/caretaking has attracted my attention, so I was going to ask you if you could write a woozi x reader who has bad migraines and maybe it is mixed this time with back pain.

You can change it if it is too specific or do not do it if you don't feel like it!!

hiii angel, you should come here more often 💜 i am good, hope you're well too! i definitely can, thank you for requesting!

prompt: sickfic/caretaking

woozi could see it. you tried your best to hide it and he gotta give it to you - it took him few days to catch up. he hates how you go all out to help and support others, but don't let others do the same for you, always ignoring your problems because they are not 'big enough'. he knows that probability of you admitting you're in pain is as low as snow during summer, but he still tries: 'how are you feeling, babe?'

you look up from your laptop, your face illluminated by blue screen. you were grimacing few seconds earlier but now you're trying to smile at him: 'all good, just a bit tired.'

your lie falls flat. woozi is always careful, always tries not to voerstep and make you start lecturing him on whole 'i am independent and strong woman, i can take care of myself' thing but his patience snaps. without saying anything he comes closer and points at your laptop: 'save your work. save your work and close your laptop.'

you blink at him. 'what-'

'do it yourself before i take that laptop away and just turn it off without saving shit,' he bites, not caring that his tone is off. 'you work can wait, we need to stop your migraine first.' at this your eyes widen and woozi quirks an eyebrow at you: 'you hid those pills well, baby, but not well enough.'

you have nothing to say. those migraines started few days ago and yesterday they got so bad that your eyes dtarted watering against your will. add back pain on top of that and you turned into a one big exposed nerve and you knew that your boyfriend saw right through you and your attempts to hide it. lie that you're fine is on your tongue but you swallow it, following woozi to the bedroom. you don't like admitting but it feels nice to be taken care of, to have someone else fret over you. woozi is not very expressive, but you can feel all of his feelings even when he doesn't say much. right now you know that he's worried and annoyed at your for not saying anything, for example.

'we can try cold and hot packs on your neck, which one do you prefer?' he asks in a business tone. when you get under the covers, his hands instantly smooth the blanket and he fluffs the other pillow, making sure you're comfortable. 'i'll turn off the light, do you want lavender oil? i'm not giving you another pill, i'm sure you've taken plenty already.'

'cold pack,' you answer, grimacing when back echoes in pain once you fully lie down. 'and no oil for now, i think.'

woozi nods and quickly gets to work. in few minutes you have cold pack pressed to your neck, light turned off and window open. he places cup with a herbal tea nearby and gingerly lies down. woozi is not used to seeing you like this - his usually strong girl never looks this fragile. it pains and angers him; he reaches out to take your hand in his. 'never hide this from me,' he asks quietly with a slight tremor in his voice. 'i don't want you to suffer alone. i'm always here to help you.'

'it's just a migraine,' you whisper and a sudden pain that shoots from your neck straight to your head makes you gasp. 'oh god.'

'nothing is 'just' when it comes to you,' he mutters and leans closer, worried. 'is cold pack not helping? if it's very bad-'

'give it time,' you interrupt. 'ten minutes or so. we can change it to hot pack if this one won't work.' you open your eyes, squinting at him. 'i am sorry for not telling you sooner. i thought it'd go away. didn't want to bother you.'

'you never bother me,' he instantly says, scowling. 'stop thinking that. nothing about you is ever a bother. let me take care of you.'

you sigh and close your eyes. a bit later you feel cold lips pressed on your forehead. woozi kisses your forehead, tip of your nose, both of your cheeks. you smile and lips press on yours in a light kiss. 'try to sleep,' woozi whispers. 'i will change packs. rest, baby.'

'i love you,' you whisper back without opening your eyes. cold pack helps with the tension, easing the pain. 'thank you.'

'i love you more, my strong girl.' woozi kisses your forehead once more. 'now rest. i'll be right here when you wake up.'

putting his phone on 'do not disturb' woozi lies down next to you and carefully wraps one arm around you. he'll be right here for you even if you can't ask that out loud. he'll still be here.

a/n: hopefully you liked it!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[xoxochb]

dated february 28

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

this has been the most uneventful and boring and stupid week of my life.

I’ve been sick since saturday with the flu and while it is for the most part gone it’s still there faintly.

but at least I get to be babied by percy. or really that’s until I start complaining and complaining and then he ignores me. I pull his hair and that gets him talking. kinda like a children’s toy !

I think he’s been doing something differently because he’s looked extra nice this week. maybe he’s pregnant and that’s why he’s glowing. he told me once that female seahorses get the males pregnant because they have a pouch which can carry the eggs.

I asked him once if he’d like to be seahorses with me so I could get him pregnant. he said “no thank you” but offered to impregnate me instead. unsurprisingly, I said “no thank you” and to wait until we’re older. that made him happy so I was happy too.

but I seriously think he’s doing something though. or maybe it’s just because summer is on the horizon. I can’t wait until it’s hot outside and I get to see him shirtless every day. though I do during winter too anyways…

on that thought, I do everyday. but you get the point, it’s still nice.

he convinced mr. d to let him take a week long trip to see his family. which I’m happy for him because I know he misses them. but I’m going to miss him too! maybe even more! :(

but luckily I’ve prepared myself for this moment! I took a couple of his clothes back to my cabin so he can’t find them so when he leaves, his clothes will still smell like him so I can wear them. and cry in my bed maybe possibly probably.

percy asked me not to cry while he leaves but it’s hard not to because we’re together 99% of our lives and when he’s gone it’s kinda boring.

and it’s sad because I’ll miss him.

but I won’t think about this until the time comes.

today I made a playlist for us. it’s songs I like that remind me of percy and some of him and me both. I almost let him help me find the perfect songs but I knew he’d end up making it just a bunch of led zeppelin songs so I decided against that idea.

but I did make him sit through the entire playlist and rate each song. he said it was a 10/10 playlist because I made it. I guess that’s progress!

percy told me he was going to make a playlist himself for me so I’m kinda excited to see what he’s putting on it. and kind of nervous you never know with him.

he’s kind of suffocating me right now. he passed out after we shared a bowl of ice cream but I presume that any minute he’ll be up and bouncing off the walls. by then I would become sleepy. that’s a later problem though…

for right now I’ll just enjoy watching his peaceful state. I like watching him sleep it’s nice. he’s very pretty and I like his hair. and his eyes, sea green is my favorite color. but his eyes are closed right now. I’ll take a look later.

I think I should go to sleep before he wakes up so well actually get around to sleeping tonight because most nights we don’t sleep and stay up until, like, three in the morning and that’s usually when he crashes.

then we miss breakfast and he cooks me something for brunch. today he made me heart shaped pancakes and they even had chocolate chips!!!!!! I gave him a large kiss in return. he asked for more since he had even taken it upon himself to add powdered sugar. I told him tonight.

and that idiot remembered. so as he asked, I granted.

but I just keep talking….. I should rest my eyes and my wrist before it falls off.

xoxo, sweet girl <3

[daylighted]

omg!!. i love how u write sam and love baby!reader !! im so excited to see journal!reader and more sam :]]

I LOVE N ADORE YOU !!! this is the perfect excuse to write for lore & sam rn thank u beloved.

not the start chronologically ... but sam meeting lore HEHEHEHE

"dean, what is this?" it's comical, how similarly sam reacts in the face of the exact same thing he'd already once been through. this time, instead of the winchester family car standing in front of him, it's baby and another half-naked girl. you. what the hell was sam's life right now?

you smile widely at him, your hands flap in the pockets of your big brown coat, flailing excitedly. "hi, sammy!"

sam's eyes flit over to dean, then, narrowing in on him. "what is this?" repeated again, because dean's silence was loaded with answers sam probably didn't want to hear but needed to anyways.

you don't even seem deterred by him refusing to address you properly. like, how were people supposed to address journals? you didn't know. this seemed fine. anything sam did was fine.

dean's head drops to look at the ground, his dimples deep in his cheeks, giving away his grin even as he hides his expression. "listen—"

"dean."

"baby was lonely..."

baby was oddly, uncharacteristically silent until then, when she chimes in, of course, to defend dean. she always does. it's not a surprise that she jumps in but a surprise it took her so long. "i was!"

"so..." dean doesn't even try this time to stifle his amusement. he's laughing. sam's staring at him like he's grown two new heads, and he has, just in the form of girls that didn't used to be girls, and dean is laughing. "so she told me—"

"i did. i did tell him." baby grabs your hand, lifting it into the air and dragging her toward sam, to which sam instinctively recoiled a step. "this is your dad's journal."

a lot of pieces were missing. baby tended to do that, too: defend dean, and forget the rest of the story in favor of skipping to the ending. trying to teach her to read some of sam's favorite books was a nightmare.

it takes him a long minute to process the end of the story she'd said, too. he stares at her, a little disbelieving laugh falling out of his mouth. "what?"

his gaze flicks between you, to baby, to dean. again, he asks, "no, what?" dean's shoulders lift in a shrug as if he wasn't partially liable for whatever this was. "dad's journal? that's not true. can't be. i left it on—"

"the desk," you speak up for the first time since arriving here, that same warm smile on your lips, "you left it on the desk over there, and at 11:03 am, baby put it in her pocket."

baby nods fiercely. "my pockets are very big. it fit right in there."

"and dean took her to a witch," sam's eyes narrow at that part of your story, flicking back up to dean's with blatant irritation. dean fucking giggles, the bastard. "and baby asked very nicely to turn the book into me! so you had someone, too!"

the fact that this was a normalcy, now, in sam's life was completely fucking baffling. he bypasses dean and his little bursts of giggles and turns his attention to you, fully.

your coat looks familiar. almost like the one he'd brought with him from college, just a little more worn and faded, somehow. a pair of glasses rest on the bridge of your nose, stains that look suspiciously like coffee and beer on the big cream-colored t-shirt you wore. your legs—

sam did not, in fact, look at your legs. he caught a glimpse of tattoo ink on the bare skin and promptly looked back up, clearing his throat. "this is insane."

you break into a grin, clapping your hands together. "insanely good!"

he did not forget about baby. dean was to blame for encouraging and entertaining baby's ideas, but it was baby who started this. he puts on his best stern face, trying to pretend that he wasn't for a moment thinking that it was sweet that baby had done all of this for him.

"you can't just go to witches and demand they turn things into people for you." what a crazy sentence to say, but okay. this was just sam's life now. "you could have... i dunno, bought me a tamagotchi instead, if you wanted me to have something to care about." sam knew he would have killed that tamagotchi, but you didn't need to know that, and neither did baby. he is trying to instill good behavior into the chaos that was the both of you, damn it. "but it is very nice, that you thought i needed..."

he trails off, his eyes drifting back over to you again. what, exactly, did baby think he needed? she usually spelled it out to him in harsh, honest words, not knowing any better. in any other case, baby would have just told him straight up, like, you need to write better. i can't learn to read if you are just scribbling, which was something he'd heard plenty of in the last few weeks.

but this? he couldn't tell her intentions, or dean's intentions on going along with it. instead, all sam had to go off of was you standing in front of him, looking like a dream and like you thought he was a dream too.

"lore," he whispers it, like it was a thought that just occurred to him, sticking in his brain and unrelenting. "it's nice to meet you, lore."

with baby, she'd been absolutely hellish about calling her anything but the name dean gave her. with you, your face seems to light up at the name. as if it lived inside of you all along, the name melds into your features and sits as easily on your skin like your glasses do.

"technically, you already met me," you say, moving the t-shirt collar away from your clavicles and pointing at yet another scrawl of ink, this time— sam falters.

an idle doodle he'd done as a kid, sitting on the corner of the table while john scribbled notes into one side of the pages, and he'd been left to draw in the margins on the other side. three messy, uneven hearts over your left clavicle, and his even messier handwriting, spelling his name.

his smile is involuntary, dragging up on his lips and punctuating in his cheeks. "well, come on," he says with an exaggerated sigh, nodding toward the rest of the books sitting on the desktop, "we've got a case to work on."

notes. i cannot go a post without forgetting something on god !!! anyways here is lore <3 !!! if u saw this without the taglist pls mind ur business. i am a busy woman rn ok !! i should could maybe write an intro for indy & soldier boy later but i also need to lock tf in ON SO MANY OTHER THINGS. my writing schedule is so chaotic but brings me sm joy

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @angelicalm3ss @nperoconelcositoarriba @impala67rollingthroughtown @h8aaz

[bingbongsupremacy]

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

[wernerherzogs]

the thing is. i can't even fully make fun of bucktommies for their tommy takes given what continues to be done to my man eddie diaz. like at least tommy's a canvas blank enough that even batshit insane headcanons with zero basis in show's canon are like. eyeroll worthy to me at most. because that man does not matter longterm at all. but with eddie it's like some of you can't envision gayness if it doesn't fit a Recognizable Media Stereotype. so he's been repressed his whole life and hasn't lived a single genuine experience ever yet and everything he does is a performance and he doesn't know how to be A Man because he's secretly an elder sister. despite nothing in canon even remotely indicating that as he's been perfectly normal about being a man who's a single parent all this time. he literally only worries about the emotional side of him not meeting the societal/parental standards of Being A Man Who's A Single Father. his ptsd is a not mental or canon enough a canon mental illness you guys are now forcing an entire dsm-5 on him. he secretly longs to be a weho fag who wears cashmere sweaters and has a purse dog or a cat and he's only overcompensating with his truck because god forbid his fashion sense or current hobbies were genuine. meeting kim was a psychotic break instead of a network procedural character dealing with seeing a dead copy of his late wife in a genuinely the most normal way possible under the circumstances. like why are you twisting this guy into shapes he's not because otherwise you just can't buy him being queer/gay like... do you only know bi sluts and formerly repressed broadway gays in real life with no in between? is that it. because buck is another fascinating part of this. his characterization seems fairly consistent no matter where on the top-bottom spectrum people put him. is it because bisexuality has a smaller amount of stereotypes associated with it so you don't feel the need of implying he's been performing everything his entire life like what's going on. and being a Bi Slut has actually canon room to exist here, so it's naturally never been an issue. but he can be a late bloomer bi and yet no one accuses him of only overcompensating with his truck or being a passenger princess despite tommy driving him around and he can be your dom top while still regularly displaying an affinity for things stereotypically viewed as female-coded (as cooking/baking, even for his girlfriend taylor, or cooing after newborn babies like a fic-worthy omega in heat). those specific things either get ignored or dialed up to eleven in fic but he's still ol' good fun buck who aches and wants to be loved and has his abandonment issues and sex issues and so on and so forth but remains fairly recognizable and mostly true to canon every time in the eyes of bajillion different writers. why is he immune while eddie isn't why are you respectful of canon when it comes to buck but eddie's suddenly in a hbo show and not a network procedural when transported into the fic realm can someone explain this.

[fukunagas]

Comforting Luigi when he has a nightmare 💝

link to his givesendgo <3

pure fluff

not proofread literally just off the cuff in my notes app and copy pasted here because i’m twisted

A loud gasp left Luigi’s mouth as he was woken up by a nightmare.

Panicked emotions stuck with him in the waking world as he tried to steady his breathing. You were curled up in his arms, warm and soft and such stark contrast to the memory fueled jail cell in his dream. Luigi’s hand reached for yours, pulled it to your chest, and started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb to self soothe. He knew he was safe here, but the fear and anxiety wouldn’t go away. Grounding techniques from years of therapy pushed themselves into his head, and he took another deep breath as he attempted to come back to reality. He could hear the hum of the floor fan, his own heart beat, the whistle of the wind as it blew between apartment buildings. Luigi focused on smell now. Hints of the pine incense that you burn in the living room combined with the jasmine, cinnamon, and musk; the smells of your perfume. The smells of you.

you, you, you, you, Luigi thought to himself.

Without even thinking he buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking in a deep, shaking breath. the smell of perfume is faint but still there, mixed with your olive oil bath soap and your natural scent. His hand continued to play with your fingers as he drank in your presence, only broke from his reverie by the sound of your soft giggles.

“Whiskers, ‘Gi,” you mumbled sleepily, referring to his face scruff. “tickling me.”

Guilt immediately flooded through Luigi for waking you up.

“Sorry,” he croaked, his voice immediately betraying the emotions he’d been feeling for the past 15 minutes.

As soon as you heard the strain in his voice you turned to face him, instinctively reaching one hand up to card through his hair, feeling the anxious sweat on his forehead.

“‘smatter baby?” you mumbled out, half awake.

Luigi didn’t answer immediately.

“Bad dream?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly, situating himself so his head is on your chest.

You offer the hand not playing with his hair for him to hold. Luigi fiddled with his own hands when he was nervous, but playing with yours was different, more comforting to him. They were so you. These hands that held him, comforted him, cared for him. He swore he memorized every line, every crease, the perfect softness, the lighter callous on your thumb, the uniform length of your nails, how your hands were so small and so easily enveloped by his. You pressed a few loving kisses to his temple, encouraging him to relax and open up to you.

“It was the one I always have. It just felt extra real this time. The cold, the isolation, the constant yelling of other inmates…” Luigi trailed off.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry for waking you up. It’s the same shit every time, I just need to push past it. I hate that i’m bothering you with this over and over again —” Insecurity and shame edged his words, but you cut in before he could lay into himself, instantly more awake now.

“But Lu, you don’t bother me—“

“Y/N, please, a grown man waking up anybody at 2 in the morning crying is embarrassing and annoying.” Luigi snapped.

His voice is thick with frustration and he internally winces at how harsh he came across.

“Good thing I’m not anybody then.” you retorted, silently vowing to be more stubborn than your boyfriend in this moment.

Without pushing him off your chest, you reach out for the bedside lamp and flick it on.

“Luigi, look at me,” you don’t give him the option to comply as you tilt his chin upwards.

Exhaustion and sadness is written all over Luigi’s face. Glassy brown eyes gaze up at you from underneath his long lashes. You can tell he’s been chewing on his lip, and his cheeks are flushed.

“Sweetheart…” You murmured. Your gaze was soft as you met his.

You deserve someone stronger, Luigi thought, and as soon as the idea entered his mind he felt the floodgates start to open.

His chest tightened and lip quivered, and he moved to hide in the crook of your neck, but he knew you could feel his tears on your skin. His big arms were wrapped around you now, as if any moment you were going to get up and walk away. Your hands rubbed soothing circles along his big shoulders as he shuddered against you. It was quiet for a bit, the only sounds being the drone of the fan and Luigi’s quiet sniffles.

“‘m sorry for pushing you away, ‘n being stubborn. I love you so much Y/N. I just wish being with me was easy.” he mumbled, removing his face from the crook of your neck and resettling on your chest.

“I love you baby. But I don’t want easy. I want you,” you drive your point home with a forehead kiss.

“But —“

You shut him down with your thumb against his lower lip, and he looks up at you with slightly widened eyes.

“But nothing Luigi. And besides, you need to be nicer to yourself,” you murmured. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about, you know.”

The corners of Luigi’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. You were his favorite intellectual sparring partner for a reason. You always knew just what to say to leave him speechless. It was begrudgingly impressive when you were winning an argument, and awe inspiring when you were shutting down his negative thought spirals.

“You’re the best.” He whispered.

A steady but comfortable silence fell between you two. You were running your nails over Luigi’s back in up and down motion, how you knew he liked. His eyelids started to feel impossibly heavy, both from exhaustion and your soothing caresses. Just as he was almost out cold you shifted him gently, moving him from your chest to right beside but facing away from you. Your arms wrapped around his middle and he felt the tops of your thighs against his butt. Often times the size difference between you two made you both swoon, but something about the way you would spoon a big man like him man his heart soar.

“Goodnight, my little jetpack.” he murmured, smiling when he heard your soft giggle in reply.

“G’night Gi.”

Unbeknownst to Luigi, you stay awake. Once you hear his soft snores and evened breathing, you press your lips between his shoulders and let sleep take you.

[3liza]

Really curious about your experience taking and deciding to take finasteride. I’m transmasc and I’ve got diffuse thinning from autoimmune/ autoimmune meds/ low dose testosterone, and would actually really love to have less body hair. I wonder how you balanced the possible side effects given that there’s a huge contingent saying anything from “I took it for 2 weeks and now have debilitating brain fog” to “I took it for a year and my dick shriveled up but I kept taking it and now my dick is stuck like this” etc.

long post

i'm not on T at the moment, the only hormone im taking is 5mg progestin/day for menstrual suppression, so idk how helpful my information will be. but here it is anyway

im taking 1mg a day finasteride, sometimes forgetting to take it, and i got mine from AllDayChemist. tthe effects i've noticed are first, that my nails are now growing annoyingly fast, but unfortunately they dont seem very strong so i have to cut or file them every couple days. this seems promising because as recently as a couple years ago i was still growing genetically long, strong nails just like my mom and my nail decline over the past couple years seems to suggest some sort of problem with them.

as for hair, i already have very long hair, and it's properly spiral curly, so determining exactly how much longer it has gotten in a period of time can be tricky, but i THINK it is also growing faster. when it's wet in the shower is when i can see where it is reaching relative to my back/hips, and it seems like it has grown back down to my tailbone very quickly since the last trim. I also see a lot of baby hairs around the observable areas on my hairline, and my widow's peak (which has always been very defined even when i was a kid, it's not a pattern baldness widow's peak) has a handful of what look like new hairs that are the appropriate length to have started growing since i started finasteride. also, and this is the biggest relief, when i brush my hair i am shedding a LOT less. like maybe 20-30% of the hair that i used to lose in my hairbrush is there now. i initially started this finasteride experiment because my shedding was getting so bad and i was noticing significant volume loss, so only seeing a fraction of the hairball size in my hairbrush as i used to is really great

naturally i neglected to take any "before" photos because im just not that organized, so my data sucks.

as for other effects.....i really havent noticed any at all. my brain fog is bad all day everyday at my baseline, so it's possible that anything finasteride is contributing is just being lost in the background noise. however, on the other hand, the obsessive self-monitoring of the sick person may also mean im in a good position to notice that kind of thing. i dont know.

i think my eyelashes are being affected positively. i forgot to take finasteride for about three days last week and noticed that i lost about six eyelashes that day, so i think they were finasteride lashes but who knows.

as for feminizing effects, like i said, i usually pluck my beard hairs (im fem-presenting rn) on about a monthly basis, and i have about four or five of them on my chin, and a peach fuzz mustache with five or six darker hairs that i shave or pluck sometimes too. since starting finasteride most of the beard hairs just havent grown in. i haven't noticed any breast tenderness or body feminization, i think i look about the same naked as i always do, so i dont think im getting any body fat redistribution either. i havent noticed any sexual effects either but i'm in a semi-asexual period at the moment anyway so im not sure how much i would notice finasteride changing that stuff anyway.

i think the online drug effects anecdotes are a valuable source of data, but that the data is generally low quality. the people reporting on what they think are side effects are extremely impressionable and also suck at noticing confounding factors, and stuff that's very personal and very psychological like erectile dysfunction are basically impossible to get good data for outside of a lab. it's one of the most vulnerable factors to placebo/nocebo effects, and erectile function declines with age anyway at about the same time people start taking finasteride, so i just dont think reddit posts are trustworthy on this topic. someone could easily have turned 35, started taking finasteride because they were losing enough hair for it to bother them (normal at that age), and then also started experiencing age-related erection decline at the same time for reasons unrelated to finasteride, and just done the human thing of associating the two unrelated events. on the other hand hormones are weird and theres every reason to expect an exogenous drug thats doing stuff to your "masculine" endogenous hormones could affect your penits. its not unrealistic at all.

drug companies bend over backwards to hide side effects that only come to light many years after a large general population is exposed to a drug. so i dont think you can discount this stuff either. i just tend to assume most of the reddit side effects are partially bad data and partially exaggerated, even as i take them seriously.

in conclusion hormones are truly weird and have unpredictable effects. i think it's probably not the case that trialing a low dose of finasteride for a few months would permanently damage you, but i cant state that with certainty because idk,. shit happens and there are edge cases for everything.

edit: i just remembered i used an epilator on my legs around the same time i started taking it. i dont have a lot of body hair normally so idk how good this data is, but i THINK my leg hair has been growing back less, and thinner, than it was before i yanked em all out. kind of hard to tell since epilators usually cause really bad ingrowns on me, i dont really have the right hair texture to be using one in the frist place. but this epilation growback SEEMS less hairy than it usually is.