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thethief1996 · 1 year ago

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I can't stop thinking about the news out of Palestine. Israel is sieging al Shifa hospital. Videos of people's limbs being severed off are haunting (graphic video tw). The hospital has ran out of fuel and 39 babies in incubators are fending for their lives by themselves, because Israel has stationed snipers around the hospital and is shooting all medical crew that walks into their sight.

First, the narrative was Israel would never bomb hospitals. Now, the hospitals are Hamas bases. Then, we respect journalists. Now, we have a fucking kill list of journalists because they are Hamas collaborators. First, we are not letting fuel in until the hostages are released. Now, we are not accepting the hostages back because that would stop our ground invasion and let Hamas win. And I could go on about every single lie they're making up. If you look up "Hamas rape" on google, the first link leads to Times of Israel saying Israel has found no forensic evidence of sexual violence, and only one eyewitness testimony out of 3.5k people attending the rave. If you Google "Hamas beheaded babies" the top links say they have no evidence for the claim besides word of mouth from extremist soldiers. Israeli extremists think about the ugliest goriest scene they can make out in their sick heads, tell that to a international journalist and they run away with it like it's gospel.

And children are being killed in the name of these lies. Thousands are being displaced in images that remind me of the pictures of Tantura 75 years ago, with their hands up so the tanks don't shoot them. Amputees are leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs hours after their surgeries because they are being shot at. Elders who survived the Nakba on 48 are having to walk towards Southern Gaza on foot (imagine walking from one end of your city to the other on foot), displaced again. People are cheering for the haunting images of white phosphorus bombs being dropped over Gaza. Gazan workers who were arrested in the West Bank are being thrust back into the bombings wearing numbered labels.

This is not normal. We are seeing the early stages of the settler colonial genocide of an indigenous population. Native leaders who have visited Gaza say its refugee camps look eerily like reservations. We can stop this. For the first time we are able to see wide scale accounts from the hands of the people suffering the genocide, and Israel is so scared of it they have cut all communications in Gaza.

This is our litmus test. I think we have never seen more clearly, with Palestine, Armenia, Congo and Sudan how colonialism has made our world a rotten place to live in.

The South African apartheid collapsed due to boycotts. We have to do everything in our power to stop Israel's hegemony. Even talking to a group of friends about Palestine changes the status quo. There's no world where we can live peacefully if Israel accomplishes their goals.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.

#free palestine #free gaza #save gaza #gaza under attack

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yandere-daydreams · 11 months ago

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Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oneshot #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #toji x reader #yandere toji #fushiguro toji x reader #yandere fushiguro toji #hybrid au

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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

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♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, dehumanization, dollification, patronization, condescension

♡ FEM reader

This is his playroom. It’s got puzzle-piece foam flooring and is filled to the brim with all sorts of different toys—including you. He’s got stuffed animals, pretty dolls, toy soldiers, Lego builds, and a gaming station with all types of fun—and parental safety restrictions, of course, no talking to strangers for you. Your controller is a pretty baby pink, and his a cool camo-green. But today, they’re left on the floor, untouched.

Because today, he only wants to play with you.

“You’re gonna be so pretty…” His voice is as grating as always—synthetically childish, making you grit your teeth. Sitting with you between his legs before the mirror, working diligently.

You look at the floor to avoid your reflection.

He’d gotten you a brand new baby-blue dress and painted you himself—done your eyelids up in matching clear skies, black lashes moth-like and fluttery, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips a sheer gloss extra plump and pretty—no need for tint—you bite them so cutely, they’re already his favorite color. Your hair’s done up in curls and ringlets, so bouncy and soft, beribboned with plentiful white bows.

“This color suits you so well. Makes you look like a cake-topper. Bite-sized. I could eat you right up.” He hums behind you, fiddling with the many intricacies, doing them up perfectly—no rush.

Looking up, the person staring back at you looks no different from a life-sized porcelain doll. Pristine, mint condition, fit to be put behind glass. In your frilly dress, petticoat and stockings. Just like Alice down the rabbit hole.

The only thing that betrays the illusion is the leather collar on your throat and the chain running from it to the middle of the floor. But no matter.

He’s got a giddy smile on his face— chest swelled with pride at his work. You’re his most prized possession. You really are! There isn’t a single toy in this room that can compete with you.

He’s not wearing anything special to match. Bedhead, undressed, still in his pajama pants. Why wouldn’t he be? This is his playroom, after all—his downtime—where he can be a boy with his toy. Though, calling him a boy isn’t exactly right—what with him being nearly in his thirties. Not to mention that he’s about two heads taller than you, with abs like an athlete, toned and chiseled and hard to the touch, hard enough to strain your wrists when he bears down on you. Oh, and that thing in his pants.

You bite your tongue and steal yourself. It would be easy to cry, but he only gets weirder about it then. So you stifle it, even though you look so stupid you want to act like an animal. Tear the dress to shreds and rub your makeup into a mess—scream, bite, spit on him. You’d done all that once before to no avail other than punishments that still keep you up at night. Once was enough. He didn’t play nice with you.

But then again, when does he ever?

“Hmm, think I’m done…” he announces after having dallied with the lace of your corset for a quarter-hour—it’s so tight you have to appreciate every breath. “Time to have some fun.”

He treats you no different from a doll either. Scooping you up into his arms like an inanimate object and carrying off to the princess bed—the one that looks like a girl’s birthday cake with a veil on top, and mountains of pillows all too soft.

He places you down on top of the duvet and it seems to swallow you like an ocean. He dives after, covering you like a fishnet. You take a final breath before he can drown, your hand on his chest, holding him at a distance.

“I was thinking, uhm…” you start, the words coming out odd, barely recognizable as your voice—only noticing now how long it had been since you’d spoken last. “I was…” you restart, but it’s still no easier. His eyes are large and unblinking, staring down at you as though he’s just as surprised as you are to found out you speak. “Hoping we could play… a little differently this time?”

He blinks at the request, having fallen completely still above you.

“Really? How?” The suddenness of his words make you flinch. You don’t know what you had expected—maybe a smile and something dismissive. It had been a while since he’d spoken directly to you like that—and not to himself in absentminded comments about you.

You recover some time, seeing him stare down at you all expectantly in wait. He follows when you guide him into sitting instead of looming over you, putting yourself in his lap—straddling him. “Mh, like this. Maybe?”

It’s a gamble. He’d never had you on top before, nor ever shown an interest in it. Setting aside the time you’d been sprawled on your belly over his thighs, his hand riddled in your hair and his other hand branding your ass with his very own toy company logo.

His expression is unreadable—perhaps a little confused if you were to take a guess.

“Oh!” he erupts with a smile you hope is the good sort. “You mean I play the toy and you the master?” He laughs brightly, falling on his back with a hand over his face, cackling through his fingers as though it were the most absurd proposal he’d ever heard.

But despite his obvious amusement, you still feel it—his toy poking into you from beneath.

He settles after a moment. “Alright then, why not?” Looking up at you—his hair a tousled mess splayed upon the bed, eyes as gleeful as the quirk on his lips. “Who knows… it could be fun.”

He props his arms behind his head, lounging comfortably.

“I did call you a cake-topper, after all,” he snickers. “I’ll lie perfectly still, like a good toy, while you play with me. Sound good?”

You can’t believe how open he was to it. Still a little apprehensive, you nod your head.

And then the game begins…

He doesn’t exactly stay true to his word. But you suppose that would be too much to ask. His head still rests pretty on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling in satisfaction—for now, sated with your performance. Groaning in absentminded bliss, “You’re right. This is fun~”

But he hadn’t stayed perfectly still like he’d said. He’d reached out when you’d finally begun riding and now his arms keep you snug against his chest, fine-pressed sweaty skin against your frilly bust, more in a lock than a hug. It makes it kind of difficult to do what he wants, but you try your best—knees and toes planted in the mattress for stability as you jerk your hips on his lap. It’s awkward, but riding him like this is still better than the alternative, after all.

You keep your arms around the back of his neck, resting your face in the cradle it creates beneath his chin, panting lowly—eyes closed in focus away from the pain, brows tight with your tongue between your teeth, trying to maintain the rhythm despite the blossoming ache that’s started to spread from your hips down your thighs—another ill sting in the small of your back crawling up your spine. It’s hard staying bent over like this, and your movements are turning sluggish…

There’s a sigh from above you, pitchy and just awful. “Aww, is it really time already?” he whines—previous satisfaction dwindling—bordering on something else entirely now, the opposite and so much worse—boredom with a hint of disappointment—a spoiled child with a toy that’s run out of battery.

You shake your head, burying your face in his neck and tightening your grip, stealing yourself with newfound strength to maintain the tempo you had before while muffling out a desperate, “No, I can keep going—”

He lets out another sound, this time in thought. “Hmm...” It doesn’t give you much confidence—how lax a sound it is—as if he isn’t even close to being spent yet. “I don’t know… You’re so slow. I’m gonna get soft if this is all you got, y’know?”

He starts moving—sitting up. He takes his own hold on your hips, and you know what that means. And you can’t handle being played with, not when he damn near breaks you each and evert time.

“No, wait! I can keep going, please, just a little longer?” you insist, both palms pushed flat on his chest with your round eyes looking at him hopelessly in plead for a second chance—even though you know he isn’t one with the patience to give you one.

He stares blankly back, big-eyed in surprise at your outburst. Though still not convinced it would be worth humoring you. If he was being honest, he’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would but had now had his fill and wanted to take charge as usual and finish the job. However…

Oh, you’re being so uncharacteristically cute today—and that pathetic look of desperation on your face is truly something else…

He smiles deceptively softly, so brightly it reaches his eyes. He very nearly looks innocent like that, but you know him too well—so well that the sight of his lips curling gives you nothing but a churning stomach.

“Okay then, doll. You convinced me.”

Suppose it doesn’t hurt letting you have your way sometimes. You have been on very good behavior lately, after all. He ought to reward you.

“I’ll be your toy a little longer.” He murmurs with a lazy smirk, nose-kissing you—patronizing, as though he’s doing you a big favor.

It doesn’t grant you any peace, and neither does the way he keeps his hold on your hips, rubbing smooth circles into the fat leisurely, letting you know he wouldn't be removing them—it serves as some type of encouragement as you start moving again.

It’s easier now when you’re upright. Holding his shoulders, you can jump rather than buck—up and down, up and down, up and down—it’s simple enough. Or it was for a moment, at least, before he planted your hips down.

“Not like that,” he shakes his head softly. “Like this.” He moves you after his will, wanting you to grind instead—putting you back in square one.

Your movement staggers, and you mask a wince with a moan—fuck, your muscles are so sore, maintaining this movement is enough to make your loins scream, feeling all but set on fire.

With one hand keeping you seated, the other takes hold of your leash and pulls you in close, his lips on the dew of your rouge-dusted cheek—you feel the grin, and like prey threatened by a hunter’s teeth, you shiver in respect of it. “Come on, dolly, ride or die, faster,” he simpers, voice laced with mockery and amusement.

Your thighs are shaking now, tightened up in anguish, begging for a break—soon to take it without your permission. How much you can take reaches a point, and everything goes slack not a second too soon.

“And now you’re done,” he snickers hotly under his breath, planting a kiss on the side of your glossy lips while you exhaustedly and gingerly take your break with a feeling of defeat. He speaks low, and you dread every eerie lick of his words, “My turn to play.”

You want to protest, but you know it’s no use. He’d made up his mind now, and challenging it any further would only turn you into a nuisance—toys are supposed to enjoy being played with, after all—best take it with grace and shut up before he reminds you.

He flips the both of you around with ease, reclaiming his spot—on top. He loves you like this, splayed out beneath him like a puppet—just waiting to have all your strings pulled.

It was good while it lasted, you think—maybe if you get better, you can make him finish and not have to endure what comes next.

“Don’t pout, dolly—that was fun,” he kisses you lips as they start to tremble. “But you suit being my toy so much better.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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pressplay-if · 5 months ago

Text

demo (prologue + ch.1 & 2, 118k words)

please mind the content warnings! asks are open, but please note that I am currently not accepting/answering RO scenario requests and questions concerning RO details, i.e. ROs' favorite color, height, etc. All relevant info regarding ROs can be taken from this post or the game itself.

cog forum post

You are one of the most famous yet mysterious characters of the 21st century rock scene.

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. You and your friends formed a band, and after years of practice in a garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It’s a meteoric rise— until it isn’t.

And now, a decade after your band has disappeared from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be.

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/possibly stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac… and all sorts of music-related drama.

TW: themes of mental illness, unhealthy relationships, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, SA-related trauma

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Stevie is tall and skinny with light brown skin and extremely long, curly black hair which she always wears in a wet look. She has big, dark brown eyes and a soft face.

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.

Paul is very tall, broad-backed and thickly muscled with light skin, shoulder-length slicked back brown hair and bottle green eyes.

Paulette is of average height with an hourglass/slim thick figure. She has dark brown hair with parted bangs and light blonde strands dyed into it. Her eyes are bottle green.

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past.

Angel is of average height and build with a warm beige complexion and long black hair. He has a square jaw with an occasional five o’clock shadow and brown eyes.

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Lincoln (m) is short and lean, with an angular face and wavy blond hair. His eyes are cobalt blue.

Lincoln (f) is petite and tan, with a youthful, round face and chin-length blond beach waves. Her eyes are cobalt blue.

Others:

Maddox Wells (m), drummer

Another one of your oldest friends. You don’t much like to talk about what happened with him.

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they used to try to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean, to be honest.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

Addendum: NSFW alphabet masterlist

Zima pt. 1 and pt. 2

Stevie

Lincoln

Angel

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Please consider reblogging <3

#interactive fiction #choicescript #hosted games #romance options #if wip #choose your own adventure #if: wip #music inspired #demo update #demo available #dashingdon

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starsofang · 5 months ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SIX

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Morning came, and when you woke, the Captain wasn’t by your side. Rather, the pair of shoes Soap had gifted you, left behind in the brig during the overwhelming visit from Price, laid neatly on his side of the bed. A note was placed on top, the telltale sign of Price’s handwriting written, one you recognized from the brief glimpse of his secretive map.

“Soap urged me to return these to you. Join us for breakfast when you wake.”

Tossing your legs over the side of the cot, you meticulously strapped the shoes to your feet one by one, tying them with careful hands. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore shoes, and the feeling was foreign.

Wiggling your toes for good measure, you found you had plenty of room. Taking a few steps around the room guaranteed they stayed. Soap had somehow observed your previously dirtied and battered feet and somehow sized them to his best knowledge.

They were perfect. You felt brand new.

New clothes and now new shoes. Bathed and scrubbed clean without a speck of dirt tainting your skin.

Perhaps you could give them a chance. At least, until you were able to get back on land again and say a silent farewell to all four of them. That was what you still wanted after all, right? Freedom, regardless of how kind they were trying to be.

Stepping out of Price’s quarters was that first taste of freedom you’d had in a while. Not a man to guard you like a dog, teeth bared if you tried to bite back. This time, it was peaceful.

The sea was calm with the waves lightly lapping against the sides of the boat. The scent of saltwater filled your nose and put all worries at ease. The sun was shining brightly above you, beating down with a lovely warmth that tickled your skin.

For a brief moment, it felt like you were home again. It was nothing like it, while mirroring it all at the same time. A bittersweet feeling it was, to feel a touch of serenity in a place so far from the place you knew.

You dared to think that this was somewhere you could rebuild a home with. In a way, this could be the freedom you’d been seeking. Far from entrapment on an island with no way out, with the feeling of sea legs on a boat that could take you to places you never knew existed.

You shut the thought down quickly. At the end of the day, the ones halting that dream were four rugged men who wouldn’t dare let you live out the fantasy long enough to cherish it. They were your captors. Not your friends.

It was fairly easy to figure out where their dining hall was. The boat was large, but the sounds of burly laughter and banter billowing through the breeze was unmistakable and it led you right to where you needed to be.

Your initial walk in wasn’t acknowledged. Not because they were ignoring you, but because they were far too occupied to realize. And by they, you really meant Soap and Gaz.

The two were bickering puppies. Mouths full of food, like ill-mannered children, spewing complete nonsense.

The first to notice you was Ghost. His gaze was chilling, eyes locked on you. While being uninterested and almost bored, there was also that glint of annoyance that came from your mere presence.

That alone was your subtle reminder that these men weren’t your friends. Your reality was not so lucky, and a few spouts of kindness given from the other three weren’t enough to warrant any comfort on your end. You were still in an unfair situation, one that you simply had to grow used to for the time being.

Ghost was a force, though. Just from his stare, you could feel the foreboding threat that lingered deep within. The mask he wore certainly didn’t help. In fact, it made him almost inhuman, like he was a vessel for something far more dangerous.

Eyes were the window to the soul, yet all you saw was an empty void.

Ghost’s shift in attitude seemed to transfer to the others. Next thing you knew, all eyes were on you, peering at you like a pack of wolves when an enemy entered their turf.

You felt severely underdressed. You weren’t much of a sight in your old rags, but now, clad in Price’s sheer clothes that ended near the knee with Soap’s new shoes clinging to your feet, you felt a sense of embarrassment.

The men were dressed appropriately, white shirts with billowy sleeves down to their wrists, heavy coats with a dizzying amount of buttons undone that fell to their knees, as well as classic breeches and thick boots. The colors were bland, yet the jewels they displayed were beyond comprehension.

You hadn’t taken much notice before of the extravagant gems.

Soap adorned that of sapphire, dangling from his neck and worn along his fingers. The blue glinted in the dim sunlight that peeked through the windows of the dining hall, shining brightly.

Gaz wore ruby, the deep red jewels clashing with his clothes and skin near perfectly. It accented the warm tone of his eyes that stared back at you, swirling with uncertainty yet a hint of curiosity.

Price preferred pearls, and it made complete sense. He was Captain, and pearls were the heart of the ocean. The waters were his home, and he held a piece of it wherever he went.

Ghost’s jewelry was the one who mirrored him completely. Black onyx, glistening on nearly every finger, paired with silver bands that held the precious jewels. The only difference was the single skull ring that stuck to his ring finger, staring back at you tauntingly.

You felt like a parasite in comparison. Jewels were something you could only dream of.

“Hungry, dove?” Gaz broke you out of your trance, raising his eyebrows at you. His tone was soft, holding no previous resentment. The man was a mystery, picking and choosing when to butt heads with you or express his displeasure. Yet not, it seemed that had all begun to melt.

“Quite,” you murmured in response, shifting uncomfortably from where you stood. You made no effort to sit next to them, deeming yourself unfit and unwelcome.

Gaz stood in an instant, leaving the table and fluttering to the kitchen. Your eyes followed, watching the swinging doors sway behind him as he disappeared.

“Sit,” Price gruffed, nodding his head to an empty seat across. You stared for a moment, unsure, before hesitantly taking the seat next to Soap.

Soap had said nothing yet, but his eyes never left you — or more specifically, your feet. The shoes, the one he’d specifically sought out for you that fit perfectly on your feet. They were a nice gift, despite the events that transpired after.

“They fit,” Soap stated, finally looking up at you when you sat. You gave him a brief nod, eyes peering down at the table. “Do ye like ‘em?”

You shifted your toes in the shoes, wiggling them around in the bit of space left. They felt comfortable and they’d protected your feet from the splintered wood of the ship when you made your way to the dining hall.

“I do,” you confessed quietly.

You felt strange. You felt almost shy, as if nervous to disappoint Soap.

His face broke out in a boyish smile, seemingly pleased with both himself and your answer. “I’m glad,” he sighed in relief, returning to his meal.

Price and Ghost remained quiet, though Ghost continued to stare. It was harder than before. Now, it felt more like a glare. You could practically feel the intensity of it toying with you.

You risked a glance at him, which only worsened the hit. In an instant, his eyes narrowed, a growing fire burning fiercely. It caused you to feel unsettled, and you wondered what you had done to make him agitated.

Sure, he wasn’t nice before. He was an angry brute from the very beginning. But it had never been this… personal.

The table shook when Soap knocked Ghost’s shin under the table. Ghost’s head whipped over to switch his glare to Soap, who only gave him a warning look in return. Price, seeming bored and rather used to the banter, simply sipped at the drink in his cup.

“Don’t mind him,” Soap dismissed sheepishly. “He’s just…”

“Jealous?” Gaz mused from behind you, and when you turned to look, he was holding a plate of hot food. He placed it in front of you before taking a seat on the other side of you.

Ghost let out what sounded like a scoff, muffled under his mask. He stood from the table, the force of him shaking it once more, before he set off to the upper deck without a spared glance.

Jealous? That was a strange way of describing what you witnessed. What Ghost held seemed far from jealousy, and resonated more with hatred.

“Jealous is a nice word,” Soap hummed, stabbing his food with his fork and popping it into his mouth.

“Why would he be jealous?” you asked hesitantly. “Are you…?”

“Aye, that’s complicated territory yer gettin’ into, dove.” Soap gave you a grin, full of food. You grimaced, resorting to your own food.

The three men fell into simple conversation while you remained the outsider. It was how it had been up until this point, something you were growing used to. After all, you were still a prisoner, even if you had a shed of freedom now, and you were still supposed to resent them.

“Awfully quiet today, dove,” Price said. His tone held no mockery. “You had quite a lot to say last night.”

Images of last night flashed through your mind, the ones where the two of you came to an agreement of getting along. No bad blood, as he said.

Quite a bit had happened last night. So quickly, too. One moment you were in the cell, awaiting a punishment for a failed attempt at fleeing their crew, then the next you were bathed and asleep in Price’s bed. Now, as the morning came, you were offered a meal rather than more unkindness.

You wondered if it was all a test. You had even snooped through the map laid out on Price’s desk, memorizing the poem scribbled on scratch paper. It seemed all meticulously planned, and you prayed it wouldn’t be your downfall.

“I have nothing to offer to the conversation, Captain,” you replied meekly. “I am quite bland.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” Price mused. “You were rather witty last night with your jest.”

“A jest?” Soap piped in, curious. “Ye got her to joke with ye, Captain?”

“Aye.” Price nodded. He crossed his arms, leaning back on his chair. “She’s a part of the crew now, after all. Isn’t that right, Soap?”

There was unspoken conversation between the two men. Gaz seemed just as lost as you, before something dawned on him. You remained clueless, separated from a secret agreement.

“Aye,” Soap agreed with a nod. He seemed prideful of something, but that you weren’t sure of.

Had they spoken of things without you? Perhaps it was the reason Price let you off so easily. Where you were expecting to be lashed out upon, angry words of your stupidity spewed your way, you had gotten a softer side of Price. An understanding one.

You sat dumbly, confusion evident on your face. Your mind swirled with every possibility of what they could mean, but nothing useful popped up.

You felt like a fool. You were a pawn in a game, and this you knew from the beginning. It had everything to do with your capture and the hidden reason as to why.

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

The answer was right in front of you, yet it felt impossible to grasp.

“You will stay with Soap and Gaz tonight,” Price said. You were zoning out quite a lot today. “I have business I must attend to in my quarters.”

You blinked at the Captain, turning your head to Gaz. You couldn’t fathom Soap having an issue with the arrangement, but Gaz was a unique case. You weren’t friendly, nor were you enemies.

Ever since throwing your food on him nearing the first nights, there was an awkwardness, but it certainly wasn’t bitter. It simply felt like two people who had gotten off on the wrong foot.

Gaz stared back at you before turning away. You weren’t sure how he felt about you staying in his quarters. He didn’t make it obvious.

You just hoped it wasn’t as awkward as it was right now.

Gaz and Soap came to collect you when the night began to fall. Price had let you bathe once more before sending you off, where the two men stood waiting for you outside.

“Hello, dove,” Soap greeted warmly. He seemed bashful that you were staying with him.

He was a strange one, for sure. He was also the most welcoming from the jump.

You didn’t let it fool you, though. You’d seen a side of him when you ran from him during your time on shore, and you knew he had a personality that made him the feared pirate he was, just as the rest of them.

Gaz offered you a nod in greeting, and you gave one back.

The two guided you across the deck and to the other side of the ship. It was quiet between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or strange. What was strange was sharing a bed with two grown men.

“Come in,” Gaz said quietly, opening the door to their quarters and allowing you in first. It was gentlemen-like, which was unforeseeable coming from his background, but you took it with grace.

The quarters were much more cluttered than Price’s, and you safely assumed it was from Soap. Gaz didn’t seem the messy type, though you could be terribly wrong.

“Sit,” Soap ordered, grabbing you by the shoulders and plopping you down on the edge of the bed. You watched as he shuffled into a small closet, your ears picking up on ruffling fabric.

Gaz stood silently, deep in thought. You didn’t bother to ask.

“Here ye go, dove,” Soap offered, returning with new clothes.

Would this be a pattern?

“Will I be using all of your clothes?” you asked, taking the folded shirt and placing it in your lap.

“We will get you new ones soon,” Gaz replied. “Once you don’t wish to flee again.”

Soap snickered, finding it amusing while you mulled in your own humiliation. At least they were being humorous rather than crude.

“Understood,” you grumbled with a small huff, standing with the shirt in hand. The room stood still while the three of you stared, shifting between each other. “I’d like to change now.”

Soap’s mouth gaped, before he sputtered out an apology. Gaz scruffed him by the collar, dragging him out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your thoughts wandered as you changed into your fresh shirt. While you would’ve worn Price’s shirt some more, used to the old rags you collected grime in in the beginning of your capture, being offered new clothing for a second time was nice. It was kind.

You didn’t like to admit it, but despite weeping bloodshed and performing heinous acts upon the innocent lives of those on islands, such as your own people, they really were just… boys.

Boys with a sense of wonder, a sense of joy that was smothered by their titles.

They were still guiding through the world in their short lives, learning how to live as people. Just as any other. It was their first time living, too, even if their actions could be cruel at best.

When you stepped out of the room to let them know you were finished, you only found Gaz,

leaned up against the wall. He spared you a quick glance upon seeing you, offering you another nod like before.

“That certainly fits better than Captain’s,” he murmured, acknowledging the shirt that didn’t quite reach your knees anymore.

“Yes, it will do,” you replied quietly. Your hands fumbled in front of you, that familiar awkwardness filling the air.

With Soap, it was easy. With Price, it was witty. Ghost was an entirely other story.

But Gaz? Why did it have to feel so strange? Like a lingering cloud of tension?

“I am grateful to the Captain for allowing me a chance of redemption after I… fled,” you continued.

The sparkling of stars shone brightly above the two of you, and you made your focus on admiring them rather than on Gaz.

“I don’t know how he did it, but Soap convinced him of your worth in all of this.” Gaz joined you in staring up at the night sky, his fingers picking at the loose string of his shirt where it remained untied by the collar. “We fucked up your life, after all. That’s on us.”

“Soap?” you asked, baffled. “What does he have to do with it? The Captain came to me willingly.”

Gaz turned to look at you, his head cocked in confusion. You mirrored him, eyebrows pulled taut.

“He spoke highly of you after you attempted to flee,” he explained carefully. “Price was angry with you. Soap was your voice of reasoning. Even got me on your side, too. I had my reservations at first for obvious reasons.”

Ah, so he was still bitter about the porridge you’d thrown at him.

You allowed his words to digest, letting them sink into your bones and simmer. All this time, you thought they thought of you in disgust. You were an inconvenience.

Except… you weren’t. They had their formed opinions on you, but you were clearly worth more than they let on. It was why you were spared, why you weren’t rotting away to flesh and bone in their brig.

All along, you thought they simply hated you, that they were unkind, mean pirates.

But just as you thought moments ago — they were boys deep inside. Human. Navigating through life without a compass or map.

“With time, things will begin to connect,” Gaz continued, voice softer. “We are not as cruel as you may think. There are far bigger fish out there, and they are much, much worse.”

You prayed that you would never have to face it, for as long as you remained on this ship.

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stevieschrodinger · 4 months ago

Text

Part One Seventeen

TW for biological functions I guess? In a fantasy setting? And brief mention of blood.

“Stee,” something nudges Steve, rocking him a little, and then there’s another, whispered but urgent, “Stee.”

Steve blinks the rest of the way awake, squinting in the morning light, “you okay?”

“No. Ow.”

Steve’s all the way alert immediately, “where? What’s wrong?”

Eddie takes Steve’s hand, pressing it real low on his tummy, “ow.”

“Oh,” Steve says, leaning over and pressing a little bit.

Eddie immediately seems to panic, dragging Steve’s hand away and shoving one of his own right up between his legs, pressing hard. He looks uncomfortable as fuck.

“Oh! Baby, do you need to pee?”

“Called pee?”

“I-it’s when- you know what never mind, just come with me.” Eddie comes with Steve into the bathroom, and Steve shuffles him over to the toilet, “you need to pull your pants down.”

Eddie looks at him uncertainly.

“Here, these,” Steve gives Eddie’s sleep pants a tug, and Eddie soon joins in on pulling them down. “Uhm,” Steve says intelligently, faced again with that slit between Eddie’s legs, “I didn’t...I guess you should sit?”

Steve guides Eddie down, and he perches on the toilet.

“Now just, relax I guess? Let it happen?”

“Stee,” Eddie says, plaintive and confused and clearly fucking uncomfortable.

Steve squats in front of his knees, which is so new it takes Steve by surprise all over again, and he rests a hand on Eddie’s brand new bare knee, just because he can. Just to feel it under his palm, smooth and...maybe there's a little stubble growing on Eddie's thigh. He uses his free hand to gently press at Eddie’s lower stomach.

Eddie yelps, grabbing Steve’s hand away, “ow ow ow ow ow,” Eddie’s bloodshot eyes water, and then there’s a splash and very loud and insistent stream of urine that goes on for quite some time. Eddie’s breath is shuddering throughout, his eyes squeeze closed and he grips Steve’s hand and shoulder desperately.

It’s finally done, and Eddie's left panting, “many ow. Many.”

“Uhm...it doesn’t usually, maybe because it was the first one? No ow next time?”

“Next time?” Eddie repeats, sounding distraught.

“Yeah, sorry baby. Pee a few times a day.”

“Called few?”

“Few...not many.”

Eddie sighs through his nose, kind of relieved by the news, “not many.”

“Just wait until you gotta’ poop.”

“Called poop?”

“I-it’s- you know what, lets just cross that bridge when we get there.”

When Eddie stands, pulling his pants back up, still a little uncertain on his feet, the toilet bowl looks like it’s full of blood. Steve drops the lid and flushes it away, trying desperately not to worry that Eddie’s kidneys are like, failing, or something. “Yeah, hopefully the next one will be okay, like with what you coughed up...you should probably drink plenty of water today.” It’s not like they can get Eddie to a doctor.

“Water,” Eddie repeats, “brush teeth?”

“Yeah baby, we can brush our teeth.”

Eddie does, standing next to Steve. Steve watches them both in the mirror, but Eddie appears to, mostly, be frowning at himself. Once he rinses, he touches where his eyebrows were, then runs a hand over the top of his head. “Different. No hair. No Eddidie.”

“Oh baby,” Steve reaches out, touching gently, “hey, there’s a little bit of stubble, here, feel,” Steve guides Eddie’s hand. The first sign of hair is so minute as to be not visible yet, but Steve can definitely feel it, “your hair will come back.”

“Tomorrow?” Eddie asks, more hopeful.

“No baby...it’ll take some time,” Eddie pouts, “but it will.”

By the time they get back to the bedroom, Eddie is pulling a face, “wet,” he tells Steve, pulling at the crotch of the sleep pants.

“Oh...right. I guess we’d better wipe next time, hang on, I’ll get you a clean pair.”

“Clean pair,” Eddie parrots back, sitting on the bed, all long flailing limbs. He struggles a little, getting tangled, but he doesn’t ask for help, so Steve just waits and watches; he’s going to have to get the hang of this at some point. “Breakfast food?”

“Sure thing.”

Eddie stands, and his pants immediately fall down. Eddie looks down at them, pooled around his ankles on the floor, “pull pants down.” Steve can’t help but laugh.

Eddie’s pouting, but Steve can tell it’s good humored, a little smile hidden underneath. Eddie hasn’t changed at all; still just happy to be involved. Happy that he’s made Steve laugh.

“Okay, lesson one I guess,” Steve goes and stands next to Eddie, “come on, you can get them.”

He’s awkward in his movements, and Steve stands close to make sure he doesn’t like, fall over and face plant or anything, but Eddie manages to bend and grab them, and then pull them back up, clutching at the material.

Steve pulls the drawstring cords tight for him, tying it securely, “all my stuff it going to be way too big for you.”

“Too big.”

Eddie sits on the stairs, and Steve waits half way down. He sits for a second, looking at Steve, thoughtful. And then he stands back up, both hands awkwardly gripping the rail, “oh boy,” Steve sighs, “okay, but carefully.”

“Carefully,” Eddie hovers a bare foot out, wobbling. It takes him a second to coordinate bending his knee, and his foot lands on the next step with a thump. Steve never really thought about how much easier up is than down, but it definitely is.

Eddie gets a rhythm going, still white knuckling the rail, but they get there, and he’s much more confident by the time he gets to the bottom.

Steve looks at the sad contents of his fridge and sighs. He’s not giving Eddie a cold bowl of cereal, he’s not doing it.

“Wait there,” he heads into the garage, rummaging through the freezer. He comes up with a couple of frozen pizzas, and prays he’s not setting a bad precedent with pizza for breakfast...but then it occurs to him what day it is, and he thinks fuck it, it is Christmas.

Steve gets both pizzas in, dealing with the pot of peas they had abandoned on the stove top last night.

Steve makes himself a coffee and Eddie another glass of water; Eddie looks at it mistrustfully, and Steve figures Eddie has already made the link between drinking and peeing, “you need to,” Steve tells him, pushing the glass closer.

Eddie sighs like a man going in front of the firing squad, but he does sip it.

“Pizza good good good,” Eddie says, licking his fingers clean of cheese grease.

“Yeah, I like it too. You done?”

“Done?”

“Finished?”

Eddie looks sad, “no yes,” and rubs his tummy.

“I get that,” Eddie has half his Pizza left, and Steve three slices of his, “but we can eat the rest later.”

Eddie perks up, “lunch?”

“Yeah, we can eat it at lunch time. You want to see what’s on TV?”

“TV.” Eddie stands up, determined. Steve watches; Eddie uses any furniture in reach, and then the wall, to make it to the kitchen doorway. He stands for a second, faced with the gulf between the doorway and the couch. Slowly, and a little uncertain, Eddie makes the trip.

He sits, and Steve watches it dawn on him that he needs to get back up again to turn on the TV. The sigh that comes out of Eddie is spectacular, but he gets up, and he does it.

Steve feels like he just watched Eddie sink a winning basket, or something.

Eddie’s fallen asleep again, Steve can feel it in how his breathing has evened, how his body is lax. They’d watched 'A Wonderful Life' this morning. Granted they missed the first little bit, and Steve is sure Eddie didn’t really follow the plot, but Steve just...couldn’t resist it.

Clarence earns his wings, Eddie got his legs.

Eddie had finished his pizza at lunch time, and had more water, but only because Steve bribed him with half a beer for afters. And then came Eddie’s second ever pee; almost clear this time, with maybe the faintest trace of pink. To say Steve was relieved is an understatement.

Steve figures he’s right, just like with the crap that came out of Eddie’s lungs, there must be some sort of trauma when it comes to using body parts that are brand spanking new.

Steve’s not really watching the TV any more; there’s another Christmas movie on, something about Prancer the reindeer. It makes nice background noise as Steve decides Eddie has the right idea and allows himself to doze.

He’s very nearly asleep when the phone rings, startling both Steve and Eddie awake.

Steve’s halfway up, Eddie flopping off him onto the couch when it hits Steve; he hasn’t told anyone. Shit.

He answers the phone, already half certain the it’s Robin, “Hello?”

“Hey,” it is Robin, “look, Steve, I know you said no and everything but I’m really worried about you, and it's Christmas so I really don’t think-”

Steve cuts her off, “Eddie’s fine. He’s here he-”

“What??!”

“Yeah, he, he came out of the pool last night. He’s like, completely fine.” Steve smiles as Eddie appears in the doorway, one hand resting on the wall.

“So he’s just- alright? Like, what happened then, why..?”

“Oh. Oh shit, no he has legs Rob!”

She squeaks down the phone, “legs!”

Eddie moves closer, careful steps that are already about a million times more confident than yesterdays, “called?”

“It’s Robin, you want to say hi?”

“Birdidie.”

Steve hands the phone over, watching as Eddie holds it to his ear, “hi Birdidie.”

Steve can hear the noise Robin makes, it’s so loud, Eddie completely startles, dropping and then fumbling the phone and nearly stumbling himself. Steve manages to grab Eddie by the tops on his arms to steady him, and then takes the phone back, he can vaguely hear Robin saying, “hello? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, Robs, you just scared him a little.”

“Okay, yeah, okay yeah that’s fair. Sorry. Can I come over? I should come over-” and Steve cannot blame her at all, but he does kind of wish their little bubble had lasted a tiny bit longer.

“Okay Robs, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup yup Mom will drop me, I’ll bring left overs!”

Eddie sits with his legs pulled up, trying to tuck them under himself like he would his tail; it isn’t really working.

“Birdidie in?” He asks looking distinctly uncomfortable, plucking at the frayed edge at the bottom of his sweater.

“Yeah, Robin's coming to visit.” Eddie looks distinctly unhappy at the prospect. “What’s wrong? You don’t want Birdy?”

“Eddidie-” he starts and the stalls out, “Birdidie good bad.”

“Okay, can you tell me why?”

“No Eddidie,” he says, a hand going to the top of his head.

“Oh...you’re worried about you hair?” Eddie nods, “baby, no ones going to care.” Eddie just looks, if possible, even more downhearted, “but you care, don’t you?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay. Okay I can sort this, wait there.” Steve heads upstairs, raiding his mother’s wardrobe. It’s arranged by season and then occasion, so all of her ‘skiing’ – drinking too much in a lodge – outfits are all clumped together. Steve finds three hats, they’re all bobble hats and all distinctly feminine, but Steve takes them to show Eddie. On his way out, his eyes catch on the jewelry box.

All the rings in here are probably too small to fit Eddie properly, but Steve takes a plain silver band that might fit Eddie’s pinkie finger. He takes his haul back down stairs, kneeling in front of Eddie where he’s sitting on the couch.

Steve lays out the three hats across Eddie’s thighs, “okay, here we go, what do you think.”

“Called?”

“It’s a hat,” and then Steve commits a personal cardinal sin, he pulls one on to demonstrate.

Eddie seems to brighten as he understands, touching each one individually. He chooses the one Steve hoped he would, it’s the subtlest of all of them, black and white herringbone with a black edge and a grey faux fur pompom, which Eddie quite likes the softness of if his stroking is anything to go by. He pulls it on, smiling, “hat good.”

Steve reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little silver trinket he found, “and this.”

Eddie brightens again, touching the ring where it lays on Steve’s palm. He clearly wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing, but he doesn’t have the words. Eventually he points to the lights on the tree, opening and closing his hand to imitate the slow blinking of the lights.

“Those are lights...they're shiny,” Steve tilts his palm, the ring catching the light, “this is shiny.”

“Shiny...good.”

“Pretty”

“Called pretty?”

“Uhm...so if something looks...good. So if you like shiny lights,” Steve points, “or…” Steve struggles through Eddie’s known vocabulary, “trees, trees can be pretty.” He touches Eddie’s sweater, “blue, pretty blue.”

“Purple more good than blue,” Eddie informs him with some certainty, making Steve laugh.

“Okay, purple pretty,” Eddie nods, “so, you want this on,” Eddie gives his left hand over easily. His fingers are actually much slimmer than Steve had really anticipated, and the ring spins loosely on Eddie’s pinkie finger. Steve moves it to the one next door, where it fits well, snug against the last vestiges of Eddie’s webbing, “okay?”

Eddie leans forward to kiss Steve, “thank you Stee.”

Part Nineteen

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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quantum1mmortality · 1 month ago

Note

i- i the Curly obsession has been sparked i-

Curly with reader on her period? can be sfw & nsfw; love your work ty <3

I'm going to cry I love writing period fics sm ❤️❤️❤️ also guys I wanted to let you know that the expected release date for my full length Curly slow burn is Christmas day, it might be done before that but I'm gonna put it off for Christmas as a gift ❤️

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, mentions of blood kinks, mentions of cunnilingus, normal nsfw stuff

Not proofread

Sfw

Idc what you guys say this man knows what a period is and is going all out to make sure you feel comfortable.

If you were to text him while he's at work, saying you're on your period, he's dropping everything and showing up at your doorstep 30 minutes later with chocolates and ice cream in one hand and pads and tampons in the other.

He didn't know what brand of pads/tampons you preferred, so he got a variety of boxes and just hoped for the best.

If you get period cramps, Curly is going to have a bottle of Tylenol in his back pocket just to have on standby. He is NOT going to let you suffer 🙏🙏

I feel like he'd run warm baths each night for you, just to help you clean up a little bit before bed. Is this aftercare? Yeah. Yeah it is. IM the writer, I can write whatever I want, and I'm saying these baths ARE aftercare

You probably won't need heating pads if Curly is staying over. He's a human furnace and would be more than happy to cuddle you. Just tell him where you're hurting and his hands will be there.

Nsfw

If you think blood is going to scare this man away, you're dead wrong. Curly would literally preach, "a real man isn't afraid to get a little blood on his sword", you aren't turning him off by leaving a metallic taste in his mouth 😭

Speaking of which, yes, he'd still eat you out if you were on your period. Blood just doesn't weird him out, so practically everything would be the exact same as it would be otherwise.

Chat this is a hot take, but blood kink. I'm definitely NOT projecting, Curly has a slight blood kink.

I think that he just likes the sight of blood covering your inner thighs and his face after he eats you out. I'm not sure why he's into it, but he is.

Sex with Curly while on your period is mostly the same, but he would be a LOT more gentle. Which, doesn't really say much, since he's already very gentle with you.

His grip on you wouldn't be as tight as it usually is, his thrusts would be more slow and rough, but most importantly, he lets you top.

I've gone over this already, Curly is a switch that mostly tops. But, you're on your period, things must be rough for you, he knows that! So he lets you take control, get a little rough with him. You know what you need in those moments, so he'd rather you take control as opposed to him not giving you what you need.

A/N; hhhhhhhhhhhh

#curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing smut #captain curly x reader #curly x reader smut #curly x reader #captain curly

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pha55ed · 5 months ago

Text

Song Abt Your Break-Up || Formula 1/2

type :: angst tw/cw :: none contains :: lando, oscar, ollie, kimi, paul, summary :: singer!reader make a song about their ex and your fans go crazy - for the better or for the worse. you hope their pr team can fix their reputation... f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Lando Norris | 04 "happier than ever" - billie eilish || fc : gracie abram

yourusername : happier than ever out now! filming was a blast despite the many tears :") thank you for all of the love on this song - hope you enjoy it!!! <3

ㅤㅤ→ user 01: LANDO WHEN I CATCH YOU!!!! LANDO WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU!!!! OH MY GOD 📢📢📢

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 02: BRING ME WITH YOU!!!!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 03: guys (y/n) said to not bring any hate to him! she said in an interview that they're cool now!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 04: did you... even listen... to the song....? obv she's lying - she wants the mans balls cut off

ㅤㅤ→ user 05: "you call me again, drunk in your Benz - you scared me to death" OH MY GOSH??? Lando is literally fucking evil who tf does that. Revoke his F1 seat bruh, that shit is so irresponsible

ㅤㅤ→ user 06: everything about this is so perfect omfg, the sadness, the anger, the exposing?!?!?!

ㅤㅤ→ user 07: this is literally giving me flashbacks to my toxic ex, i'm glad she got out

You and Lando were the new "it" couple for F1 for a long time, almost two years of being the top couple. But that was quickly ruined when you both cut each other off after a huge nasty fight. Everyone was speculating on why you both broke up, even stalking you to your house to ask questions.

So you decided to just make a song, a song with all the answers that those big nosed reporters wanted. And holy shit, the crowd ate it up. The song was just supposed to be a hidden song on Spotify, but it got over 200 million streams, getting you awards and so much recognition. You even got a brand deal with Lego, which was a bit random but who would say no to that???

As you arrived at Lego's headquarters to discuss plans with the company - you ran into someone you knew way too well. Lando Norris. You completely forgot that one of McLaren's newest sponsers was also Lego... Did Lego fucking set you up???

But that didn't matter. Because now you were trapped in the awkwardest elevator ride with your ex, the man who once made cry from laughing so hard who is also the man who made you cry for days after ghosting you for a week to party in Miami after his win, doing only God knows what.

You both stood on opposite sides of the elevator, you were hoping he would take the stairs to respect your space - but he didn't. The silence was driving you crazy, and what's even crazier is that Lego's headquarters is fucking 45 floors and you were only on the 3rd floor after 2 minutes.

"(Y/N)", Lando said quietly, as if he was trying to not break you. You didn't move your head or body to face him, only your eyes. "Uh,"

It was as if he collapsed from your glance alone. As if the guilt from losing someone as amazing as you finally hit him as he looked at you. You were no longer his, no longer giving him a soft glance with your gentle smile.

From one simple glance at him, you shattered his harden facade - just like you always do. The tears welled up in his eyes, his jaw slightly shivered from the nervousness he had. But he did his best to keep his composure as he stared back into your cold eyes.

Oscar Piastri | 81 "i wish i hated you" - ariana grande || fc : idk :(

yourusername : the most intimate mv filmed - but it was so worth it <3 thank you for all of the love on the song and an even bigger thanks to my besties who helped me get through filming haha :")

ㅤㅤ→ user 01: i know she said she could never hate him but I CAN!!!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 02: girl she literally has no hate for that man,,, they ended on good terms

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 03: oscar even said he listened to the song recently and said he liked it, but his fav is "bye"?!!!??!?!! like bro he's making a joke out of it

ㅤㅤ→ user 04: oscar pulled a baddie, broke her heart, and she doesn't even hate him??? his rizz is fucking insane

ㅤㅤ→ user 05: her VOICE CRACK IN THE SONG!??!?!?! (Y/N) I WILL LITERALLY JUMP OFF THIS BUILDING

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ yourusername: pls dont omg 😭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 05: yes ma'm!!! 🫡

Oscar and you didn't end on bad terms, just simply were getting pulled in different directions. Your music career was blowing up and work slowly consumed your whole life. Same goes with Oscar, as he was pushing himself to his limit just to try and get his first win. Which he did recently, you couldn't help but smile and like his post. Although your break up was heart-breaking for the both of you, you couldn't lie and say he was a bad boyfriend.

You were getting ready to head out for your first show of your world tour. Of course, you had to start in Australia, your home town and also the home of most of your fans. It was a huge stadium, packed to the brim that you were questioning the legality of having this many people in one spot.

But somehow, despite the thousands of people in the crowd, you made eye contact with a stupid boy with a stupid smile and stupid bright orange outfit... Oscar, he came to your first show while still in his ugly McLaren polo and jeans outfit, it was painfully obvious that he got an instant flight here just to watch you.

Despite him wearing the outfit you hated so much, you couldn't help but smile at him. His attendance meant so much to you. What meant even more to you was the fact that he was holding up a small poster, perfect size to not block anyone's view:

"Play "i wish i hated you." I need an ego boost"

Of fucking course he couldn't be serious for a second. Your smile only grew as you chuckled at the sign, you couldn't say no to his request after he put in the effort to make a whole poster , even if the poster looked like shit.

Ollie Bearman | 03 "second best" - laufey || fc : marissa long

yourusername : lots of therapy needed to make this song... but it's finally done! second best is out and i hope it becomes you're first choice! (something i never was)

ㅤㅤ→ user 01: praying to fucking god that this isn't about ollie PLEASEEEE

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 02: i think it is, sadly :( they both unfollowed each other and haven't been seen in public since last month...

ㅤㅤ→ user 03: "kissed me with somebody else in mind" OLLIE HOW COULD YOU?!?!??!?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 04: even crazier is "you swung me around in that midsummer dance, held me in close as you thought of your past." cause that's fucking VILEEE to do to a girl

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 05: literally!!! looking back at old photos of them, she seemed so deeply in love while he just looked spaced out :((

ㅤㅤ→ user 06: (y/n) is better than me cause i would have spilled gasoline on his car during a race

Turns out those 8 months with Ollie were for nothing. Those sunsets in his arms, cold nights in his jacket, and those kisses in the rain meant nothing to him. He did his best to hide it, but you always had a feeling deep down that he wasn't fully committed to you. You just ignored it to keep him longer.

But you couldn't ignore it forever, so you let your curiosity loose as you looked through his phone while he was sleeping. It was wrong to do, but what's even more wrong is for Ollie to spam his ex with over 300+ messages within a span of 6 months begging for a chance with her... So basically throughout your entire relationship, he was missing her.

Fucking 6 months, of Ollie texting, calling, even emailing her, for another chance. Love letters upon love letters proclaiming that you mean NOTHING to him and it's just to distract him from how much he misses her. That he only picked you because you looked like his ex, that you sounded like her, that you would never ever replace the hole that she left in Ollie's heart.

It was insane how much of a poet he was with her and yet you couldn't even get a kiss in public.

But his ex never responded to any of his messages, the last time she checked his messages was about 10 months ago, the exact time they broke up. You're pretty sure she blocked him and he's just messaging a brick wall. But that doesn't matter at all. His words hit you like a train at 200 mph, crushing your heart into a million pieces.

You broke up on the spot, never seeing him again since that day. But he can't say the same. If anything, it's like you haunted his phone. You were constantly on the radio, his for you page, on billboards, God he couldn't escape his guilt even if he tried.

Your song didn't help his regret at all. Now that the fans had a glimpse into the cause of your break up, Ollie was receiving huge amounts of hate every single day, even during interviews with fully grown adults. One time a reporter straight up asked him if he was going to make a diss track on you? Why the fuck would he do that??? That's besides the point, the point is: everyone knew about this drama, no matter their age, job, or interest.

Once again, Ollie went to his favorite restaurant in Italy. Well, actually it was your favorite restaurant, you showed it to him and ever since then, he's never found a place with better pasta. It's ironic since the restaurant he doubted so heavily but ended up loving and never leaving - was the same exact story he had about you...

Although he would beg for his ex for months on end, the second you left he felt the biggest regret and guilt he's ever had. His ex completely left his mind, despite the fact that she finally unblocked him and was texting him back for once. He couldn't give two shits, because he realized what he lost, you.

He spent hours every single day beating himself up for losing you. Hours in the gym to try and run from his problems, but he couldn't because everything led back to you. His favorite pair of shorts that you gifted him, the small sticker on his headphones you placed, the little stuffed animal you both got at a carnival together - God he didn't want you back, he NEEDED you back.

Ever since you left, he was a completely different person. His racing skills dropped, he crashed more than ever, and yet he couldn't even seem to focus since his mind could only think of you. So as he sat in his seat, waiting for his pasta, he glanced around the room to see the back of your head.

It's just a head of hair, is what an outsider would say, but to him, it was your shiny hair that was so easy for his fingers to comb through. How could he ever forget what you looked like. You were all he thought about, after all.

As if his body moved on his own, he stood up from his seat and walked over to you. His mind completely blank on what to say, despite his body being so eager to meet you.

Before he knew it, he was standing right before you. His eyes wide as he looked down at you, his breathe unsteady from nerves, and his hands shaking from how scared he was. Now he was stuck in front you, awkwardly staring at you as if he was hoping for words to magically come out about how sorry he is.

Kimi Antonelli | 04 "two slow dancers" - mitski || fc : rebecca armstrong

yourusername : two slow dancers out now! one of the hardest songs i've ever wrote but i hope you all love it <3

ㅤㅤ→ user 01: literally gonna rip off my skin why would you make this right when i broke up with my boyfriend

ㅤㅤ→ user 02: "it's funny how you always remember, and we've both done it all a hundred times before, it's funny how i still forgot"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 03: STOP I'M GONNA CRY OMFG

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 02: "to think that we could stay the same, but we're two slow dancers, last ones out." IM THROWING UPPP AHHHHH

ㅤㅤ→ user 03: i can't even hate kimi since the song is so fucking good likeeee

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 04: REAL!!!!! the fact he hurt (y/n) to THIS DEGREE??? to make this master piece is both a blessing and curse

ㅤㅤ→ user 05: (y/n) needs to put her fucking pen down... i can't take it anymore....

Kimi and you broke up on rough terms, but not in the usual "rough" way. Instead of any cheating, fighting, or pain: it was a gradual change within both of you. As he grew, his passion for racing only flourished even more and now he even has a chance at being in F1 next year. Meanwhile, you were still trying to make it big as a musician while struggling in college. The distance between you two grew not only in milage, but also romantically.

You both agreed to split: allowing both of you to grow in your careers fully without having to feel the guilt and pressure of a relationship that was no longer filled with love. It was gut-wrenching, to say the least, to say goodbye to Kimi for the last time for good before you left for college and he left for Italy to train.

The song you made blew up, with millions of people posting about how the relate to it, cried to it, and screamed to it. This was your huge break through song, which only made the rest of the songs on your album a massive hit. You were the brand new rising star of the year, and you were overjoyed.

You were invited to Italy to do a brand deal with Miu Miu, a huge honor and amazing deal. As you wiped the sweat off your hands and let your makeup artist put some light powder on your face, you walked out onto the small stage to do your interview.

But the second you step foot on stage, you couldn't help but make eye contact with someone too familiar: Kimi.

As if time froze, you could feel your smile drop as your heart sunk. Although you knew the break up was for the best, you could never lie and say that you didn't miss him. That you didn't miss his bad jokes, his curly hair in your lap as he slept, his sweet encouragement as you showed him your new songs.

Your eyes stayed stuck on him despite moving towards the seats, that suddenly seemed as if they were a mile away. His eyes stared back into yours, as if he was able to read the hidden affection and small hint of regret of your break up. But Kimi wasn't any different, his face and body said the same exact thing, but in a more forward way.

It was as if his eyes were screaming, "I miss you." a thousand times into your head. As if he was begging you for a chance of redemption, as if he waited 6 months purely to see you in person just to tell you that he still loves you. That he still needs you by his side, and he always will.

Paul Aron | 17 "logical" - olivia rodrigo || fc : _jannah on ig (she's stunning omfg)

yourusername : filming logical is done! mv is coming soon >:) thank you for all of the love for this song. i didn't think so many of you would relate,,, i hope you're all okay <3 connecting with you all has been so healing

ㅤㅤ→ user 01: literally a child of divorce rn... i can't believe paul and her broke up :(

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 02: it's not confirmed for sure if they're broken up though!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 03: (y/n) def wrote this about him,,, "february sky" paul's bday is in february, "i'm sure that girl is really your friend" hinting at his childhood bsf who lowkey ruined their relationship, she's even filming in the desert because she wanted it to be the exact opposite of who she wrote it about - and paul is from the snowy regions of estonia...

ㅤㅤ→ user 04: PAUL ARON BETTER SLEEP WITH HIS EYES OPEN.

ㅤㅤ→ user 05: l'VE SCREAMED THIS IN MY CAR NONSTOP I CANT WAIT FOR THE MV OMGGGG

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 06: "ARGUEMENTS YOU HELD OVER MY HEAD!!! BROUGHT UP THE GIRLS YOU COULD HAVE INSTEAD!!!" 🗣️🎤😭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ user 05: "SAID I WAS TOO YOUNG, I WAS TOO SOFT!!!! CAN'T TAKE A JOKE!!!! CAN'T GET YOU OFFFFFF!!!!!!" 🗣️🗣️🎤🎤💔

You always knew deep down that Paul wasn't ready to settle down. He even told you himself while drunk once, but you ignored it just to keep him around for longer. But eventually, he started to feel stuck - his fear of commitment becoming too strong. He started to talk to other girls, not fully cheating but setting them up to be a rebound if he were to ever break up with you.

And the idea of breaking up wasn't far fetched, since it happened almost every week. You two got into arguments over almost everything, ending up with you in tears and Paul storming out while you sobbed alone. But, only God knows how, you two always managed to patch it up just enough to ignore the issues and act normal again.

But it was draining both of you - mainly you. Paul was good at hiding his emotions, pushing them down and ignoring them for months. You, on the other hand, were more emotional and aware of the subtle resentment you both held for each other.

As months progressed, you made a pros and cons list for him... Your relationship was doomed the second you even thought of that. When you made that list, it seemed as if the cons never ended while the pros could barely even start.

Paul planning his future rebounds, his extremely close girl best friend who never treated you kindly, him hiding you from him family, him not wanting to visit you after his races, him ghosting you for days because he "needed space" despite the fact that you would leave voice memos of you barely able to breathe because of how depressed you were - and so so SO many more.

You ended the relationship, which was extremely hard on your part. Especially since you were the one trying so hard to keep the relationship afloat. But, you never felt so free since the break up. It was as if a ship-load of issues and fear were lifted off your shoulders, you were able to geniunely smile and laugh for the first time in ages. You took care of your hair and makeup again for once, your fashion upgraded massively too.

Although you only broke up about a month ago, you already had so many changes in your lifestyle and yourself that you barely even thought about Paul - unless it was late at night when your depressing thoughts came out. But you always slept those away, ignoring them and suppressing them, something you just learned how to do.

You made "Logical" while dating Paul, you only got the guts to post it after about a month after the break up. Since then, "Logical" was EVERYWHERE. So many people could relate to it, which concerned you, but you were happy to help a community of heartbroken people. But, while your community was flourishing - Paul's was the opposite.

People were wondering how he could fumble someone as talented and gorgeous as you. Everyone knew Paul was cold and apathetic at times, but so many clips arose of him flat out ignoring out. Even worse, a paparazzi released a super old photo of you and Paul arguing in public, with you crying while Paul stormed off like usual.

The hate he was receiving was so extreme that his entire PR team was on fire - making him go on a month long break to try and hope that the internet just forgets about him. It was slightly working, but the hype behind the song was still too high to let Paul come back to film any videos or do interviews.

All of the hate started to crack down on him, making him finally open his eyes and realize how awful of a boyfriend he was. So, he decided to make the first step in improving himself: reaching out to you.

When you saw his number in your phone, your heart sank. A single notification crushed your entire day, making panic rush through you like a broken dam. But, you were able to open it.

When you opened it, you were met with a huge text, a text so long that it could classify as a dictionary. It went on and on and on, about his regrets for hurting you, how he was such a dickhead, how he knows you most likely will never forgive him, and how he loved your song...

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

#formula 1 #formula 2 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oliver bearman #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #paul aron #paul aron x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f2 #f2 x reader #f2 imagine

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smileysuh · 17 days ago

Text

model cowboy - TEASER

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You maintain eye contact until the moment your lips meet, and then, you do your best to just relax, to forget about the cameras pointed at you. You allow yourself to melt into the kiss, following Jaehyun's motions, following the gentle notes that soon become more heated. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and on instinct, you open your mouth for him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. You try to convince yourself that you’re leaning into this for the sake of the scene, that you’re just being good actors together, but there’s something underneath it all. There’s a desperation. You can almost taste it below the spearmint on his tongue.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, dry humping, breast worship, slow and adequate foreplay/pussy stretching/prepping, pussy eating, fingering, praise, slight switchy power dynamic but Jae is generally the dom/top, slight overstim, face riding, slight hair pulling, precum (jae is horny), dirty talk, sappy sex, alcohol, etc… I pet names: (hers) superstar.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.2k

🍭 aus.actor!Jaehyun, singer!y/n, fake dating au, enemies to lovers au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.

“Talk to me,” Johnny says lightly, giving an air of friendship despite the fact that he’s still in his role as manager. “Talk to me about this whole PR, fake dating thing.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Those fake tabloid pictures of you and y/n from yesterday on set dropped an hour ago, they’re trending on Twitter,” Johnny points out.

“It’s called ‘X’ now, actually.”

Johnny narrows his eyes. “I’m never going to call it ‘X.’ It’s fucking Twitter.”

Jaehyun can’t help but laugh, for real this time. He loves Johnny, loves him for all of his little millennial quirks.

“Honestly?” Jaehyun sighs, feeling his energy sift again. “Y/N’s super uptight, but… she can act like she’s not, and that’s a different side of her that I wasn’t really expecting.”

Johnny is quiet for a few moments. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“That song from her first album, ‘Forget About Him,’ was that written about you? Is there a past here?”

“Nah, it wasn’t about me,” Jaehyun assures his manager. “As far as I know, she’s never been interested in me like that. We had this other costar, Haechan-”

“Lee Donghyuck?”

“Yeah, him. They uh, I think there was something there between them, for a little while at least.”

Jaehyun can feel Johnny’s assessing gaze, and he averts his own eyes.

“It almost seems like you’re jealous, Jae.”

“Yeah, well, Haechan never went on to become a brand ambassador for Prada or star in movies, he was just some little child star.” Jaehyun can taste the bitterness in his words, but he can’t help himself.

“You know who’s not just a child star?” Johnny asks. “Y/N. You two are, without argument, the most successful people to come out of the show you were in when you were younger.”

“We’re both very driven,” Jaehyun admits. “I do admire that about her, she has a Grammy for fucks sake.”

“What I’m getting from this,” Johnny concludes, “is that you’re completely fine with this whole fake dating arrangement.”

“Well, as my manager, you should know I’m a good actor."

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.4k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday the 13th of December 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

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#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun smut

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lcriedlastnight · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write something with Oscar based on this post

https://www.tumblr.com/girlonabreak/744982039484366848/may-i-offer-you-something-water-food-my

i’ll try my best anon! thank you very much for your request, i hope you like it!

tw: fem!reader, swears, lmk if you want anything added.

w/c: 2.3k

oscar was a little nervous to have you over. the relationship was fairly fresh and this would be the first time you would be at his place. he’d spent the week prior cleaning every single nook and cranny he could find, then going on tiktok and finding out how to clean the ones he didn’t even know existed. not that you would be inspecting the space behind his fridge for it’s cleanliness.

three days before, when he’d gone shopping, he texted you asking if you liked this specific brand of chocolate and if you would like some for when you stayed over at the weekend.

oscar had gotten more blankets, pillows and even got you a new teddy bear, scared that you would forget the one you couldn’t sleep without. he was determined that you were having a good nights sleep with him. you had slept together before, but not properly. those had only been you falling asleep during a film after a date or oscar coming over to yours the day after the race weekend and feeling so jet lagged he fell asleep on your couch two minutes after you started carding your fingers through his hair.

you had always made him feel so welcome at yours so he was desperate to make you feel the same. even though this was a bit different than those times he was at yours.

oscar pottered around fixing things that didn’t really need fixing at all. he triple checked the fridge incase all the food inside had gone missing. then he checked his bank account to make sure he still had his money and he hadn’t been hacked, just incase you wanted to order in or even go to the shops.

a soft knock at his door shoves oscar out of his thoughts, he runs to the door to answer. you were on the other side, weekend bag in hand. you had little to no makeup on and your hair was thrown up not too messily. oscar then thought about if you would want to shower and how he only had manly products. how could he forget to buy you shower stuff?

“osc?” you ask as you stand in the doorway. oscar blinks once, twice, then is scrambling to take your bag off you.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry. i don’t know where i was there. you look gorgeous. come in.” he says as he spins around and stands to the side to let you walk inside first.

you slowly walk inside and the first thing you notice is the amount of candles he has lit. it give the living room the most homely feel.

“your place is lovely, osc. it’s so cozy.” you tell him turning around from looking at the kitchen to face him. oscar grins at your words.

“thank you, pretty. you want me to put your bag in the room?” oscar asks, feeling a lot less high strung now that you were actually here in front of him. that usually did help calm him down.

you nod. oscar tries his best not to leave you standing all by yourself in the living room for too long. he basically sprints to his room and back. a blink and you didn’t even know he was gone, type of situation.

you’re not standing in the living room when he comes back thought. you’re sitting on the couch. you look like you belong there. it sends a wave of affection to oscar’s heart.

“you want to watch a film?” you ask him from the couch. you already had the remote in your hands.

“‘course, what kind are you feeling?” oscar asks, heading to the cupboard in the hallway to get the massive blanket he’d bought at the shops a few days earlier.

“dunno.” is your reply. oscar can tell you have a film in mind but you may be a little embarrassed to ask to watch it. as he comes to sit down beside you, he throws the blanket over the top of you and it almost suffocates you. instead of commenting on it you just get comfy. oscar rakes his brain for previous conversations about films to find the one you could watch everyday and not get tired of. as he remembers he snatches the remote off of you to bring it up. you don’t say anything but you watch on skeptically.

“this one seem okay? i’ve never seen it before but i heard you like it.” oscar says, a cocky smirk on his face as he sees the look on yours after you realise the film. you grin.

“yeah i supposed we could stick this one on and give it a go.” you pretend like you couldn’t quote the dialogue in your sleep. oscar pressed play on the film and instantly feels the need to be touching you. you had chosen to sit in the corner of oscar’s L shaped couch, an incredibly you thing to do, oscar thought. but because of where you decided to sit oscar was unsure how to go about touching you. he gives up trying to think of ways to get you in his lap.

“come sit in my lap.”

you turn your head from the tv, the opening credits rolling in the screen. “okay.” you reply, shuffling to follow his request.

it ended up that oscar was laying in the corner of the couch and faced the tv. you were sitting to his side with your legs slung over his, shoulders brushing against each other with every breathe. oscar holds one of your hands underneath the massive blanket, the other traces his name on your ankle - just above your socks.

a quarter of the way through, you shuffled around to get comfortable again, your head ended up resting on his bicep as you had moved down a little more. oscar had to hold back the coo that threatened to escape him as he felt your check squash up against his skin. oscar throws his focus back on the tv, as hard as it is he wants to know the film you love so much.

at the end of the first act, oscar moves his attention back to you, he wonders if you’re hungry but are just too scared to ask. or if you were waiting on him to offer you something. were you tired and just wanted to move to bed right now? it wasn’t that late surely. what if you actually did want to go for that shower right now? would he have enough time to go buy some flowery shampoo and body wash so you wouldn’t end up smelling like him?

“can i get you anything to eat?” oscar asks, thumb rubbing over your ankle bone. he wonders if this is the ankle you broke when you were five, or if it was the other one.

“are you hungry?” you ask oscar, head turning to look up at him. the aussie almost melts at your expression. “i am if you are.” you say to him.

this confuses oscar but he decides that eating wouldn’t hurt. he doesn’t care if you don’t eat it all.

“you want to order in or just make something here?” he asks again. it makes him feel bad making you choose but he wants to make sure you’re completely comfortable with him tonight. the time when he can just know what you want and do it for you was right around the corner and he couldn’t wait for it.

“order in.” you say after a few moments of silence. “don’t want to move from here until bed.” you explain. although oscar didn’t think you needed to explain, he thought it was cute. he thought the same thing anyway, not having felt this content in months.

“fine by me. i’ll order it and it should be here soon.”

your film finishes and you and oscar finish the food. you talk a little at the end of the film, asking him about how lando and zak were doing and how strong the car was. don’t get oscar wrong, as much as he loved his job and the fact that you took so much interest in what he did, he just wanted a day where he could sit with you and hypothesise whether or not spider-man was too young to be spidering across the city. instead of telling you this he changed the topic, comfortably so you don’t notice.

“it’s getting late. are you getting tired, pretty?” he asks. he can see the way your shoulders are a little more slumped as you sit in front of him, the film behind you having ended and instead playing a trailer for some unrelated tv series. you nod to answer his question. “a little, yeah.”

“c’mon then. bedtime for us.” oscar says picking you up by your waist and flinging you over his shoulder. he carries you to the bathroom where he sits you on the counter. you are laughing all the way there. oscar’s already thinking about which ring would suit you more. he goes in the cabinet underneath the sink and grabs a pack of two toothbrushes. one pink, one blue. it’s so domestic, oscar nearly burst when he seen them in the shops and thought of giving the pink one to you.

“i know you brought a bag full of stuff and you probably have a toothbrush with you but i thought you could keep this one here and i could maybe clear out a drawer for you in my bedroom for you to keep things here so you don’t have to go back and forth for clothes.” oscar rambles as he puts toothpaste on both brushes and hands yours to you. it’s like oscar keeps forgetting that this is the first time you’re sleeping over, mind already thinking about the next time, and the next and the next.

oscar shoves his brush in his mouth to stop his mouth. you laugh at him. “i would like that. thank you osc.” you say before copying him and brushing your teeth. oscar watches like you were doing something really interesting, his eyes darting over your face. tonight he learns another new thing about you, you’re a really messy brusher. toothpaste slipping down your chin as you brush. he has to hold back the laugh that longs to escape him, not wanting to cover you in more toothpaste than you already have all over you.

oscar spits into the sink then quickly rinses his mouth with mouthwash, then spitting that out too. you follow his actions, hopping down from the counter to spit into the sink, standing in front of oscar. before you can rinse your mouth out with mouthwash though, oscar turns your face to his with a gentle hand.

“you got a little something..” you smile at his words. oscar belonged in a romcom for sure. the boy’s thumb coming out to brush away the leftover toothpaste on your chin. you smile at him in thanks but your smile falls as he wipes it on the shoulder of your t-shirt.

“oscar! why would you do that! what’s wrong with you!?” you squeal. oscar laughs hard, his head thrown back in joy. you’re not really mad, the smile on your face hard to miss. it’s hard to be angry at the boy in front of you who literally looks like the human version of the sun.

once you’ve finished in the bathroom - oscar yapping away as you take your makeup off and done your skincare at the sink - he pulls you to his bed.

“you want to change in here or do you want me to go to the bathroom?” oscar asks, throwing you the t-shirt he’s just washed (and maybe sprayed with his cologne before you came over). you catch it before hesitating with your answer. oscar answers for you.

“why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and i can get a big reveal, seeing you with my t-shirt on?” oscar asks, giddy at his own idea. you nod, if only just to please him, although you do like his idea, thinking it’s cute he wants that.

you’re quick to get changed, your hair taken out of the ponytail to hand down, it will probably get in your face tonight. you hurry out the bathroom to find oscar sitting on top of the bed in his own pyjamas. oscar’s eyes light up at the sight of you.

“jesus christ, pretty girl. you’re going to kill me.” he says standing up, arms outstretched like he would die if he didn’t touch you in the next ten seconds. you happily fall into his embrace. face against his chest. oscar’s nose in your hair.

“you smell like you and me.” oscar smiles as he pull away from the hug and pulls you into bed instead. you laugh at his discovery. “as long as i smell good.” you tell him.

after a quick okay fight over who was getting what side of the bed, you are both cuddled up to each other. it most definitely won’t stay like this all night because what oscar doesn’t know yet is you move a lot in your sleep. he’ll find that out in the morning, but for now he’s happy to have you right where he wants you. oscar is big spoon as his arms are wrapped around you, big hands under your top and on your warm, soft skin. leg over your hip, keeping you trapped under him, not that you would ever complain about that.

the teddy bear oscar had gotten you incase you forgot yours was laying at the bottom of the bed, while you clutch yours to your chest. one of your hands ghosting over oscar’s on your stomach.

the tv is on, playing some sitcom you’d asked for. oscar never usually sleeps with the tv on but for you? he would sleep on a bed of nails if it made you comfortable.

“g’night, pretty baby.” oscar mumbles into your hair, not bothering that it was in his face. you mumble something of the sort back, he knew you were basically asleep. ‘this is my future.’ oscar thought to himself before he fell asleep.

#oscar pastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x you #op81 fluff #op81 x y/n #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81 #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lcriedlastnightrequests #lcriedlastnight

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