#trying to put into words how I feel on days like today isn't easy so this is an attempt

[ben-learns-smth]

today is the 17th of may aka IDAHOBITA* (international day against homo- bi- inter- trans- aspec-hostility). officially it's "phobia" but I've chosen to adapt the practice of (german) queer activists to speak of queer-hostility. while you may argue it's based in a fear of the unknown, the related actions be it individual or systematic are not. they're hostile and threatening to queer lives.

today I'm thinking of those who have experienced (and continue to experience) queer hostility. those who experience it as violence. those who experience it as a legal system. those who experience it from the people meant to support and protect them. those who experience it from strangers. those who experience it and can't talk about it. thise who experience it and are vocal about the injustice. I'm thinking of you and I'm sending you a hug, a shoulder squeeze, a handshake, an affirmative nod. the suffering will end, the hostility will end, we deserve to live peaceful and joyful lives

today I'm asking cis, hetero, allo & endo people to become our allies, to seek out information how to support the queer community better. how to take allyship further than "yeah I'm chill with that". I'm asking you to speak up, to get loud, to get active. I'm asking people who aren't genderqueer and/or trans to become allies to trans and genderqueer people. I'm asking endo people to become allies to intersex people. to make space for conversations about gender, not only about breaking binary stereotypes but about allowing a multitude of complex relations to the idea of gender (including the rejection of it! not everyone has a gender, agender ppl exist!). I'm asking allo people (queer or not) to become allies for the aromantic and asexual community. love is love is a beautiful slogan, but love is not all there is and tbe split attraction model is a thing. amatonormativity is real, different forms of complex relationships are real and conversations about these and the experiences of aromantic and asexual people deserve space and attention.

today is a great day to learn about the hostility queer people experience, to show solidarity, to celebrate our wins and fight for more

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[bi-writes]

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

[chheolie]

do we have a series with seungcheol being the father of a little girl in elementary school?

you always manage to handle everything, even though it's very tiring. your ex-husband isn't one of those absent fathers; on the contrary, he's always available for your daughter.

but today was particularly awful! you felt exhausted, inadequate. you put your daughter to bed earlier, but of course, she wasn't sleepy. you just couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

hidden under the comforter, your eyes were swollen from crying so much. this past year since the separation hadn't been easy. seungcheol still held a huge space in your heart, and dealing with his absence was a difficult battle.

your daughter, always observant, noticed your mood swings and the sadness that occasionally showed in your eyes. this time was no different; she just accepted lying down even though she didn't want to sleep. while you tried to pull yourself together in your room, she sneaked out of hers and quickly grabbed your phone, dialing her dad's number.

seungcheol was in a meeting with the members after a day of rehearsals when his phone rang. seeing your number on the screen, an immediate concern arose in his heart.

"hello? y/n?" he asked, worried.

"appa..." she said in a small voice, making seungcheol even more concerned.

"hi, my love, what's wrong?" he tried to keep his voice calm.

"appa, i think omma is sick," her little voice sounded on the phone, full of worry. "she's been crying for a long time."

seungcheol's heart tightened at hearing this. "sick? what else did you see? did she say anything?"

"no, she's just in her room, crying. what should i do?"

seungcheol felt a lump in his throat. part of him wanted to run to you, while another part hesitated, fearing to reopen old wounds. but his concern for your well-being spoke louder.

"don't worry okay? i'm coming over."

he hung up the phone, determined to do whatever it took to make you feel better. he said goodbye without giving many explanations to the members and headed to his car.

as he turned off the car, he took a deep breath. he tried to focus his mind on helping you and forgetting the feelings he'd been repressing for the past year.

your ex-husband opened the bedroom door slowly, looking cautiously. seeing you under the comforter, he knocked gently. "y/n...? is everything okay?"

you emerged from under the comforter quickly, startled by the voice you heard. "seungcheol?" you asked, confused, sitting up and drying your tears, but your eyes were sunken and red, making his heart ache at the sight. he approached slowly, sitting beside you, hesitant but unable to stay away.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, still trying to understand.

"our daughter called me, she was worried about you. i... i needed to come." he said calmly, trying not to falter.

"oh... i'm sorry seungcheol. i'm sorry she called you and made you worry. i... i should have been more careful; i didn't want her to worry like this." you said, looking down.

"you don't need to apologize, y/n. our daughter did what she thought was right. she was worried about you, just as i am." he said firmly. "what happened, y/n? what made you cry?" he asked with a tone of sadness.

you looked at seungcheol, the tears starting to fall again. taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions.

"seungcheol, i... i'm so overwhelmed. everything is so hard without you here. i feel like i'm carrying the world on my shoulders, and sometimes, i just can't do it anymore. i miss you so much."

seungcheol swallowed hard, leaning in a little more, his eyes full of concern and guilt. "i didn't know it was this hard for you, y/n. i... never wanted you to feel like this."

you continued, the words pouring out in a torrent as if a dam had broken. "i've been trying to be strong, for me and for our daughter, but it's so lonely. i look at the place where you used to be, and it's like a part of me is missing. i don't know how to move on without you."

seungcheol held your hand, squeezing it gently. "y/n, i'm so sorry for all this. i'm so sorry for not being here for you. i never stopped caring about you, never stopped thinking about you."

you looked into his eyes, feeling the connection between you still strong. "i miss you so much, seungcheol. i don't know if i can keep going like this. everything feels so empty without you."

he pulled you into a hug, his voice soft and full of regret. "i miss you too, y/n. maybe... maybe we can find a way to make this work. i want to be here for you, in any way you need."

"appa, can you stay with us tonight?" your daughter asked, her eyes shining with expectation, startling you both as you were hugging.

seungcheol looked at her, letting go of the hug, hesitant. "my dear, i... i don't live here anymore. i can't just stay."

disappointment crossed your daughter's face, and she looked at you with a pleading expression. "but, omma, please ask appa to stay. i don't want you to get sick again."

you felt your heart ache at seeing the sadness in her eyes. looking at seungcheol, you saw the same hesitation and concern in his eyes. taking a deep breath, you just nodded to him, and he understood what you wanted to say with your look.

"okay. just for tonight." he said, turning to your daughter.

your daughter let out a little squeal of joy and ran to hug her father again. "thank you, appa! thank you, omma!"

you smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at seeing them together. even if it was just for one night, having seungcheol there brought an indescribable comfort.

the night passed slowly, with a mix of feelings hanging in the air. while seungcheol read a story to your daughter in the living room, you watched them from the hallway, your eyes still swollen but now with a glimmer of hope. his voice was calm and comforting, each word conveying a sense of security that you so desperately needed.

your daughter was snuggled in her appa's lap, laughing and having fun, momentarily forgetting the whirlwind of emotions she'd felt before. the sound of her laughter was like music to your ears, a reminder that, despite everything, there were moments of happiness and peace.

seungcheol looked up and met your eyes. a gentle and understanding smile lit up his face, and you felt your heart warm. he was there, even if just for one night, and that made all the difference.

when the story ended, your daughter fell asleep in her father's arms, tired but with a peaceful expression.

seungcheol carefully placed your daughter on the couch, covering her with a blanket. he then approached you, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene with a mix of gratitude and longing. without saying a word, he enveloped you in a tight hug, as if his actions could convey all the apologies and regrets that words couldn't.

"i'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked. "i'm sorry for everything you went through alone, for not being here when you needed me the most."

you let the tears flow, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. seungcheol's embrace was a safe harbor in the storm that had been the last year. "i'm sorry too, i know it's been hard for you too," you whispered, the words coming out amidst sobs. "i miss you so much, seungcheol."

he held you even tighter, as if he wanted to ensure he'd never let you fall again. "i'm here now, y/n. and i'll do everything to make sure this night isn't the last. i'll do everything to be more present, until i can be here every day."

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "thank you for coming," you said, feeling a comforting warmth spread through your chest. "even if just for tonight, having you here means so much to me."

he smiled gently and wiped the tears from your face. "whenever you need, i'll be here. and i'll do everything so that, in the future, we can be together again, as a family."

[leah-lover]

Comfort. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Smut 18+

You loved your job. Being a surgeon brought you glory, validation, the opportunity to help others, and make your environment proud of you. However, it introduced a great amount of fatigue, grief, and mental overstimulation.

Today was especially hard, you had lost 2 patients in the span of 3 hours. Once your shift was done, you hurried home to find any sort of comfort.

When you got home, you showered and curled up in bed immediately. Your girlfriend wasn't home yet, they still had a few hours of training. You didn't realize you had fallen asleep, you woke up gently after you felt a dip in the bed. You felt mapi’s soft touches on your hair before you opened your eyes to look into hers.

As soon as you saw her you moved closer, persuading her to open her arms for you and hold you. You situated yourself on her chest, and she positioned herself on the head board.

“ Rough day amor?” She whispered softly.

“ 2 died.” You respond.

“ Nena, it's not your fault, okay. You did your best.” She reassured you by giving small kisses to your temple.

“ Need Ingrid too please.” You ask .

“ She will come up any second now.” She responds.

She didn't lie, it only took Ingrid a couple minutes to come to your bedroom. When she enters the room you feel mapi mouth something to her. She then comes to the other side of the bed and lays next to you.

“ I am so proud of you for pushing through the baby.” She says before she too kisses your temple.

You needed more than they were giving you, but you were too shy to ask for it. Ingrid noticed you open your mouth and close it a couple of times.

“ Baby what is it?’ she asks while looking you in the eyes.

“ Nothing. It's nothing.” You say trying to shut her down.

“ You know I don't like lying.” She claps back with a stern look.

“ I don't want to be too much. I already bought this gloomy mood on you and I didn't ask you how you were doing it.” You say hesitantly.

“ Baby I won't repeat it again, what did you want to say?” She asks again without losing her serious expression.

“ I need more of you. I want more from you.” You say looking in her eyes.

“ Maria, I think our love doesn't know how much we love her.” Said Ingrid to Maria.

“ Yeah the hesitation to ask us for attention isn't something that should happen again I don't think.” Answered Maria from behind you.

“ I think she deserved to be taught a lesson about how much we love her, no?”

You see the world flying between them without any of them opening their mouths.

You then feel mapi slide from behind you leaving only the pillows to support your body. You reposition yourself only for Ingrid to hover on top of you.

“ Hi.” She whispers before giving you small sweet kisses. She knew that when you were in this state it was easy to overwhelm you. She wanted to move as slow as possible at first.

She gradually moved faster, more dominant, and hungrier for you. You moved at her pace tugging her body more on top of yours needing something to grind on as your core becomes more greedy.

Ingrid then moves to your neck leaving bruises and pink spots all over it. She helps you strip off your shirt and bra before moving to care for your breasts, giving each one as much care as you wanted. She doesn't leave any part of your body unmarked, or kissed, or touched. Your mouth hadn't been closed since she started, allowing for the smallest moans and whimpers to escape your lips.

Ingrid noticed your back starting to arch so she asked you her usual question.

“ What do you want, baby.” She asked looking up at you.

“ You.” You whisper breathlessly.

“ More words Nena.”

“ I want your mouth on me and your fingers inside me.” You whisper shily.

Inggrid didn't wait any longer doing exactly as you say.

She put her mother on your clit and pumped 3 fingers inside of you. With both being on the same rhythm you were quick to become a mess. Your moans were getting louder by the minute. “ Can I come please please please?” You ask Ingrid.

“ Don't ask me “ she responds before resuming her actions.

You look over the room trying to find maria. You find her on the couch adjacent to your bed. She was naked, her hand massaging her breasts, her legs wide open, and her core dripping. She was laser focused on Ingrid who was between your legs while touching herself.

“ Mapi, please can I come please.” You beg her.

“ Only if you moan my name while coming.” She demands.

After hearing that Ingrid sped up her pace. You start to uncontrollably moan Maria's name louder and louder before you come.

You were blissful when you came back down from your high. When you opened your eyes you found Ingrid making out with Maria. Maria wants to be as loud as you. She quietly.

You noticed mapi putting her strap on after she was done and started to look at her with worried looks.

“ I know you are sensitive today baby. This is for the princess.” She resured you.

Feeling cold you put on Ingrid's shirt which was tall because she was.

You moved to the side allowing for more space to the couple.

They start making out again In Front of you, Maria playing with Ingrid's hair after releasing it from the ponytail it was on.

They were both standing on their knees, whispering words to each other you couldn't hear. You loved seeing them act like the couple they were before you came. They have a deep sense of understanding of one another without letting you feel left out.

Maria then flips Ingrid so that her strap lines with Ingrid's ass. Ingrid throws her head on Maria's shoulder when she starts inserting her strap in her. Ingrid went loud either she just moved her mouth without making any sound as mTia worked her way inside of her. Your eyes never left them as Maria worked her way harder and faster inside Ingrid soliciting a few moans from her.

“ Enjoying the show amor.” Asks maria.

“Uhmm.” You respond, your mouth open.

“ I want to come mapi '' Ingrid didn't bed Maria but when she demanded to come the former allowed her.

“ Look at our baby while you do.” She said,

Ingrid looked eye contact with you as she fell forward after her orgasm hit her.

Maria them disposed of her strap and next to you. She opened her arms for both you and Ingrid. You both simultaneously lay on her chest.

“ Are you okay?” Ask you, Ingrid.

“ Yeah.” You respond.

“ I love you “

“I love you too “ they both say at the same time.

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist ! kinda took ur idea and ran with it, i love getting requests

Bellamy Blake- Arkadia

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ It wasn't uncommon for you to flirt with Bellamy, but it was unusual for him to flirt with you back. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, plot, nsfw

Flirting with Bellamy was my forte, brushing me off was his. I had stopped counting the number of times he'd dismissed my advances, not really caring. Most of the time it'd be a joke, and most of the time it wouldn't be.

Today was no exception.

I was walking down the halls of Arkadia to the bar where I 'worked' when I passed by Bellamy.

"Hey, hot stuff." I greeted as I always do with a smile.

"That's not my name, y/n." Despite his words, I could always hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

Bellamy always said it was inappropriate, that we were just friends, but that could never stop me. I knew he'd have to give in at one point, who wouldn't with me?

"Right, where are you off to looking like that?" I looked him up and down, he looked good. Though he looked like that every day. Literally.

Bellamy had a look of confusion as he examined his own outfit before connecting the dots and rolling his eyes, "I don't have time for this," He said before turning heel and continuing his walk down the hall.

"You know you love it!" I yelled before doing the same.

Life at Arkadia was simple, the grounders had stopped attacking around a month ago, and our hunting parties would always come back with feasts, it was how life should be.

And I didn't always flirt with Bellamy or shoot terrible pickup lines his way.

I knew when the time was right to do it, most saw it as a funny bit, most saw me as desperate or wierd, and some saw me as a girl trying to find her way which I found completely unrelated to the situation at hand. People usually made it known where they stood on the pyramid; either by their actions or words. But I wasn't sure where Bellamy stood on the pyramid; I was sure his stance fluctuated as the days passed.

Funny.

Desperate.

Weird.

Lost.

Those were the four trifectas of the pyramid.

There were days when I thought I should find my luck elsewhere- like Murphy or Monty, people who would fold the second I even glanced their way. But that was the easy way out, and Murphy wasn't exactly the cutest tool in the shed. I liked the chase with Bellamy; it was exhilarating. The constant back-and-forth banter on how it was inappropriate, how there were better times for flirting, and how bad the pickup line was.

The chase wasn't the only thing that fueled me, it was not knowing the outcome. Despite my confidence, I was sure how this would end with Bellamy, this could go on for years to come, and he could get a girlfriend. I wasn't sure how that thought made me feel- well I did; I just didn't know how to put it into one word.

Disgust, jealousy, hurt.

For my own brain's sake, it was a less-than-appealing thought.

"Hey, Sinclair!" I yelled, entering the back of the bar.

Jasper was already in his usual spot. He sat there every day for 43 days since they got rescued from Mount Weather, the only time he left was when we called Miller to carry him out.

I always asked Sinclair to just ban Jasper from the bar and save us the trouble, but Sinclair said to just let him cope after the trauma he'd been through, having lost someone special to him. So after the first 10 days, I stopped pitching the idea. I wasn't sure what else he was on, it was a sore sight for the other regulars who weren't drinking their way into the grave. It was a sad sight for anyone, but nobody but me had the guts to say anything to him.

I wasn't sure where Jasper was on the pyramid, when he wasn't drinking he was smoking, and when he wasn't smoking he was drinking. The only time he isn't doing either is when he's sleeping.

I like the think that the old Jasper would find it funny.

"So, what is it? Day 40 already?" I ask Jasper while pouring a new batch into the bar's fountain.

Jasper didn't turn to look at me, he didn't try and do anything, he never did. Though I didn't know how he felt since I've never lost anyone I loved.

"Day 43." His head was resting on his arms as he stared down into the half-empty glass, he didn't even feel like drinking, too consumed in his own sadness.

I didn't try to continue the conversation further, knowing the fun, easygoing Jasper was already drowned out by the buzz and taste of the drink in his hands. And I didn't openly argue with him, I already knew he was arguing with himself.

"Two minutes late, y/n." Sinclair said, appearing from the open door next to me.

Sinclair was like a mentor to me, he was tough on me but it kept me in line when I needed to be.

I knew where Sinclair stood on the pyramid, he thought I was trying to find my way in this burned world; which was only half true, the world was factually burned.

I wasn't lost, I wasn't trying to find my way. I thought people were taking it far too seriously for their own good. And no matter what I said, they would always think that.

"Salvation isn't easy, Sinclair." I joked, directing my attention from Jasper.

"Salvation lies within." Sinclair walked by me, taking a seat on the stool behind the bar.

"Salvation," I look to him, "Can kiss my ass." I smiled.

"Language," Sinclair warned, though a smile showed through his frown.

"Nobody deserves forgiveness," Jasper spoke up, in his self-deprecating pity.

I turned to look at him, his glass was now empty and he tossed me a familiar look.

I grabbed his cup and refilled it under the fountain, "Miserable quote of the day, Jas?" I handed him back his drink.

I joked to keep my own sanity around Jasper, his sadness had a way of infecting people. You could've been the happiest person but one minute around Jasper and you're drinking your way to an early grave.

Did it with half our regulars.

Jasper didn't reply, instead, he gulped down the thick liquor and stood abruptly. It wasn't a surprise, it was his usual routine. He'd drink until he felt tired of drinking, then dance until he felt tired of dancing.

All this sadness got me thinking back to my happy memories, I wonder what Bellamy is doing right now.

"You pass by Bellamy?" I ask turning my head towards Sinclair who was absentmindedly watching Jasper find music.

"Yeah, why?" He asked, resting his head on his palm with his elbow propped up.

"Just curious. Is he on watch today?" With how much I think about him you'd think I'd have his guard days down- but I don't- I'm not desperate.

Sinclair sighed, "For the first half, I think."

I smiled widely at this.

Serving at the bar was great, it meant I could socialize, and learn more about people, but most of all?

I could see Bellamy nearly every day.

Everyone used the bar room as a hangout area and eating area, it's where everyone went when they wanted to chill. It's where Bellamy always goes.

And like clockwork, I saw Bellamy's tall build walking into the bar with Miller and Clarke at his sides.

Miller was a nice guy, despite his total resting bitch face which intimidates most- if not all- people. Though, when it comes down to serious situations he isn't one to joke around. I, unfortunately, learned that the hard way when we were talking defense plans and I had the great idea to hit on Bellamy.

I was on guard watch for a week after that.

It was easy to understand where Miller landed on the pyramid, most of the time, he thought I was desperate. He believed I could get anyone else I wanted, and that I should give up on the delusion of Bellamy.

It really pushed my buttons when people couldn't grasp the joking aspect of it all, but I was too deep in the joke to stop.

I could tell Clarke didn't like me by the way she looked at me and by the way she talked to me. I didn't like her either. I wasn't sure why she didn't like me, it's not like I openly talk about hating her.

And it's fairly easy to know where Clarke stood, she told me every time I brought it up, she thought I was weird. Her words never got to me though, nobody ever did, I was very confident in myself.

Not wanting to suffer through my firting Sinclair patted me on the shoulder and took his leave, sad for him, I've been thinking of new ones this entire time.

Bellamy walked up to the bar while Miller and Clarke took their seats at a table, watching Jasper dance very tiredly.

"Let's hear it," I heard him say, already expecting my antics.

I smile, "Hear what?"

"Don't play dumb, I've been waiting all day for this one." My smile was quickly returned with a grin as he leaned on the surface.

"Why don't we skip the talking and go back to my room." I placed three cups full of liquor on the bar.

I was expecting him to laugh my comment off, return to his friends, and make some witty comments.

"Might take you up on your offer if you keep dressing like that,"

His tone was the opposite of his smile, he sounded serious.

Maybe he was drunk.

But he hadn't even drunk.

This was the first time he didn't brush off my flirting.

I felt all my confidence go out the window, finally not having a witty comeback I stared towards the ground. Feeling my face fog over with a deep red I hoped he didn't notice, I hoped he took the drinks and left.

But the world never worked in my favor.

"Look at me," Bellamy said.

I didn't hesitate to obey his command, looking up at him to be met with a cocky grin.

Bellamy noticed the red lining my cheeks, he didn't know I'd fold this fast.

"That's a good princess." I watched as he took all three cups in his big hands and turned his heel towards Clarke and Miller.

I was left stunned.

"Can I get another drink?" Jasper slurred.

"Shut up..." I breathed out.

I watched Bellamy's figure that entire night, he knew it too, I didn't try to hide it. But I knew he was watching me too, he watched as I interacted with people, while I poured drinks, and watched me watch him.

Why was I so nervous over two simple sentences? I was supposed to be in control.

The night was full of shameless staring, eye fucking each other from across the room. A complete switch from this morning.

My mind imagined what was under his clothes, what was below his waistline. The thought made my whole body shiver.

The hours passed by antagonizing slowly. Jasper got mad and voluntarily left the bar while Clarke and Miller took their leave, and once they left so did the rest.

But Bellamy didn't leave.

He stayed until the bar room was empty and the only thing you could hear was the low hum of music from the bar's old iPod recovered from Mount Weather.

Knowing it was just me and Bellamy left in the bar I felt nervous.

Was he going to leave too? Turn heel and pretend it didn't happen? What did happen? Why am I asking so many questions?

Bellamy was sitting at a table in the middle of the bar, gazing at me as I emptied the fountains into buckets for the night. Thanks, Jasper.

My hands were trembling the entire time, I was too focused on trying to look normal I didn't even notice when Bellamy stood up, I didn't notice when he walked to the bar, and I didn't notice when he leaned on it.

Placing the lock on the barrel I stood up once again, being startled when I locked eyes with Bellamy.

"Got anything else for me?" He asked, looking me up and down.

Confidence.

"I need you..."

That is not confidence.

"Go to your place, I'll be there soon." Bellamy stood up correctly while speaking, his body now towering over mine from across the bar.

I wasn't sure if it was because I felt intimidated or curious, but my chores had been long forgotten. My only goal now was to listen to Bellamy.

He stared with a smile, watching me walk out of the bar and down the hall towards my room.

Thousands of thoughts were racing around my mind.

Maybe he was just pranking me, or standing me up, finally getting payback for all the inconvenient times I've hit on him like a desperate dog.

One thing was for sure.

I knew where I stood on the pyramid.

Sneaking into my room I realized the mess I left it in when I woke up late this morning.

"Shit!" I whisper-yelled, quickly tending to the mess unsure of how much time I'd have.

What was I meant to do in these situations? Undress and look sexy on the bed? Just stand here and wait? Stare into the wall and think about my actions that led to this point? Only one of those options sounded good to me at this moment.

And it was definitely not the first one.

But what if he was expecting that?

I shut my mind up when I heard three knocks.

I didn't need to check to know it was him. What do people do in these situations? Do I wait before answering?

Confidence.

Opening the door I was met with Bellamy looking down at me. He wasn't in his jacket and he carried a serious face.

"Do you, um, wanna come in?" I ask, my voice wavering.

My confidence once again crumbled at the sight of him.

"I wanna do more than that," Bellamy said before walking inside, once the door was closed he pressed his lips to mine.

Something primal took over Bellamy, he kissed me wildly as we walked backward towards my bed. We didn't part once, not even when he roughly dragged my pants down and undid his, or when he tore my shirt to get to my breasts.

The cold air hit my nipple but was soon covered by his big, calloused hands. I moaned into the kiss and he smiled, parting from the kiss to get a full view of my chest.

I bit my lip as I watched him, his gaze shifting from my breasts, down my stomach, and towards my cunt hiding behind my panties.

"You were so cocky this morning," His hands roamed down underneath my panties, "What happened, princess?"

The feeling of him exploring my body made me shiver and let out a breathy moan.

I couldn't believe Bellamy had me crumbling and melting under his gaze and touch. It was everything I'd been dreaming of, I knew I wouldn't last long with his praise.

"Stop teasing." I breathe out, bucking my hips up more into his hand, needing more than his fingers.

He smirked and snaked my panties down my thighs at a teasingly slow pace.

"Careful what you wish for."

He gripped my thighs and spread them apart, my lips parting with them. Bellamy used one of his hands to lower his boxers just enough to reveal his hardened cock.

I shivered at the contact it made with my cunt, "Please."

With a smirk, he lined his tip up with my entrance, and with a light thrust, he only inserted the tip.

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched his tip enter me, despite the little amount he was giving me I still felt the pain of the stretch. I needed more, I needed him; all of him.

"Bell, please, more," I said in a whiny voice staring up into his brown eyes.

"Brave princess, huh?"

I wasn't expecting him to thrust fully into me, but I was glad he did. The feeling overtook my entire body with a shake of my legs causing me to throw my head back with a loud moan, despite the pain a soft smile appeared on my face.

Bellamy let out his own series of groans at the tightness around his cock, the sight of me such a mess over his dick was beautiful to him, knowing he caused this, knowing I could follow his orders so well.

"Good fucking girl." He groaned out, running his hands down my thighs and to my hips, gripping them tightly as he began thrusting into me roughly.

I couldn't keep my eyes open, pain being mixed with pleasure making me shut them tightly.

"Keep your eyes open, princess, I want you to watch,"

I opened my eyes and watched as his cock pounded into me, the wet coat clearly visible despite the low lighting.

Bellamy used one of his hands to start circling around my clit as a reward for listening to him.

I was already reaching my climax, his fingers guiding me to my peak.

"I'm so close, Bell," Lewd sounds filled both our ears.

"Let it go, it's okay," He deepened his thrusts when he leaned forward, ghosting his lips on my cheeks and giving kisses to my jaw.

My entire body shook as my orgasm hit, I grabbed onto his back and dug my nails into the flesh; needing to grip onto anything while he fucked me through my high. The pleasure was unlike anything I've ever felt, him being so close causing me to breathe in his scent- it was intoxicating.

"That's my good girl, just like that," Bellamy exaggerated out the 'just.'

Bellamy pampered my neck with his kisses, leaving surprises I'd find in the morning. But I was too starstruck to care, only thinking about how well he fit in me.

I could tell Bellamy was close, he sounder louder with his grunts, and his hips couldn't keep up with his thoughts. I ran my fingers from his back and into his hair, gripping it slightly.

Bellamy began thrusting more wildly and faster, chasing his high until he finally reached it.

"Princess," He pulled out and rested his dick on my stomach as he came with a loud groan in my ear.

Coming down from his high Bellamy pulled away from me, letting me see his cum that decorated my stomach. Before he could grab a cloth I scooped the cum up with my fingers and stuck them in my mouth as he watched; the salty taste invading my mouth while I bit my lip at his reaction.

Bellamy only smirked at me before zipping his pants back up.

"Want me to stay?" He asked, watching me crawl under the fur covers.

"Of course I do, hot stuff." I scooted over giving Bellamy enough room to slide in next to me.

"That's not my..." He cut himself off, "Alright, princess." He smiled as he pulled me into a small kiss.

I learned two things that night.

Bellamy was amazing in bed.

And I didn't care about the pyramid anymore.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[unclewaynemunson]

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

[enbyfvcker]

[Puppy porn star]

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1,8k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Wade helps to distract his grumpy boyfriend from alcohol withdrawal by forcing orgasm after orgasm from him.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Smut, rim, anal sex, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise kink, slight degradation kink, hair pulling, sex tape, sub/dom subtones, bottom!logan, top!wade, fourth wall break.

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.

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It was a rough fucking day. When Logan normally tags along with Wade at his casual hit jobs, they don't usually stress him out so much. They just get the job done easy, peasy. Kill some bad guys, yada yada and all that. And it was nice to do something once in a while so that he wouldn't just rot in the apartment he now shared with his mouthy boyfriend and a blind old lady. (Logan was definitely not used to calling Wade that but it was a working progress. Besides, it has just been a few weeks since they put a name to what they have.)

But no, today drained him. He's been more testy lately if he actually thinks about it...

It was probably the fucking withdrawal. It was getting worse.

Turns out the cons of having a boyfriend now is that for once, when he acted like the self-destructive little shit that he is, he now felt like he was dragging Wade along. Fine, it wasn't really a con... It's just that Logan was used to being miserable, used to kicking himself down and drowning himself in bottles and bottles so he could escape from his own thoughts for a little while.

But Wade 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 cared. Wade cared, and Logan could see it whenever Wade took care of him when he'd come back to the apartment stumbling and barely able to hold himself up until he passed out on the couch after spending hours on a random bar. The seventh that he had been banned from in this universe already.

So maybe he hesitantly gave in and let the merc convince him to try and stay sober.

And fuck if it isn't hard as hell.

Logan was exhausted and pent up and grumpy and god he craved a drink more than anything. Several, actually.

But Wade... Well, he had his ways to distract and ease him. So it wasn't all bad.

Al was out for a date for plot convenience, and right now they were on the living room couch and Wade has his grumpy boyfriend with his back glued to his chest and grunting as Wade pumped his over-stimulated cock mercilessly. Logan's thighs were trembling, and he could barely form any coherent words, his eyes rolling back into his head as he rested it on Wade's shoulder and Wade was fucking mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

"You don't look so scary when you're all pliant and desperate in my arms, baby girl. You're just a little kitty cat, aren't you?" Wade coos in Logan's ear.

"Shut the f-fuck up-" Logan grunt in annoyance but Wade could feel his boyfriend's cock twitching in his fist and he couldn't help but smirk. Logan mind was dazed. He's lost count of how many orgasms Wade pulled out of him, his thighs and abs in a mess of his own cum. The pleasure was bordering on painful, and yet he couldn't get enough, his body overwhelmed and desperate for more. His healing factor aiding his torture, reliving his libido right after he thought he couldn't take anymore.

"Can't take you seriously when you look so sinful covered in your own juices, princess. God, you look pornographic. You think we should make amateur videos? I think they'd be a hit. The freaks reading this would surely eat it up."

"Wade-" Logan warns through gritted teeth. He lift his arm and his claws pricked out an inch and threatened to come out, but Logan's mind was too focused on the overwhelming stimulation to get them out properly.

"Ah, ah, ah. Down, boy." Wade scouts, tightening his fist on Logan's cock and using his other hand to rub the palm of it against the sensitive tip, earning a desperate whine from his lips, the claws coming back to his arms fully. "Behave."

Logan could hear the grin in Wade's voice and he wanted to fucking mutilate it out of his face, but he didn't had the energy to do much more than whimper like a bitch in heat.

"That's a good boy." Wade praises and Logan felt his cock throb at the words. "God, if you had a tail it'd be fucking wagging right now. That's it, peanut, take it like a good puppy."

"Fuck-" Logan growls, and his hips rut desperately into Wade's hand before he stills and shakes while another stream of thick ropes of cum paint his thighs. Wade 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 loved digging into Logan's praise kink.

Before he could even catch his breath he gasped out a strangled whine as Wade's hand returned to it's previous movements, unrelenting.

"W-Wade!" Logan cries out, his legs trembling.

"Tapping out already, baby girl? Come on, give me one more." The merc coos, licking and nipping at the back of his neck and suckling marks that desapeared in seconds. "Do you want me to stop?"

"N-No... Please," Logan whines and he hates how desperate he sounds, but he also don't fucking cares. Right now, his mind's all fuzzy and his inhibitions said goodbye long time ago. He felt safe with Wade, like he could just let go. "Don't."

Wade rewarded him by pumping faster, his free hand squeezing Logan's pec and pinching his nipple in a movement that made Logan arch his back and whimper, his ass rubbing against Wade's raging hard on. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺.

"W-Wade, I..." Logan pants, his cheeks warming as he tries to find words that wouldn't make him want to blow up in shame.

"Hm?" He feels his boyfriend tightening the grip in his cock. "Use your words, peanut, go on."

"Shit- Wade... Want your cock." He moans, his cheeks flushing as he clench his fists tight. He could just feel Wade grinning behind him.

"Yeah? How do you want it, baby cheeks?"

"You know how." Logan grunts in response, whining when Wade slows down his hand almost to a stop, pumping in a torturing slow pace.

"Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it, baby."

"Just fuckin- Fuck me already before I impale you in my claws, jerk." He growls.

"Good enough." Wade shrugs with a grin and switches their position in a quick movement, putting Logan on all fours on the couch, making him gasp. "So pretty for me." Wade praised, spreading Logan's cheeks. "You're dripping all over my couch, baby girl."

"Stop fucking calling me th-" He's interrupted by his own groan as Wade dives in and licks his rim, opening him up with his togue, reaching as deep as he could. Logan cries out, not sure if it was too much or not enough. "Wade... stop fucking teasing me, just do it already before I regret it and rail 𝘺𝘰𝘶 instead."

"You're extra bossy today, huh?" Wade chuckles, giving one last lick before moving to grab a bottle of lube in his pants pocket and desposing of them right after, spilling the liquid over his lenght. "Don't worry, I'll turn your brain mushy soon enough, cutie. Be patient for daddy."

"I swear to fucking g- oh 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬." He growls as Wade slides in roughly, his initial grumpiness replaced by a rush of pleasure. Wade takes a punishing pace, forcing desperate moans and whimpers out of him. Logan's arms were trembling, and he slacked his torso onto the couch, his back arching in a filthy angle that has Wade drooling.

"God, I wish you could see yourself right now..." Wade grunts behind him, a clear grin on his voice. "All strong and tough and fucking slutty just for me. Such eye candy."

Wade looks into an invisible audience and grins. "Yeah, I'm talking Hugh Fucking Jackman on all fours in the goddamn void level type shit, but like 10 times better."

Logan snarled but he could barely think of a retort to reprimand Wade, his mind buzzing in pleasure, lewd moans escaping from his lips that would have him blushing if he weren't completely cock drunk right now. He could feel himself leaking pre-cum at the merc's words and 𝘨𝘰𝘥 he feels pathetic, but he fucking likes it.

He shivered as he heard a goddam camera sound behind him and when he turned his head to the side he saw Wade grabbed his fucking phone and was taking pictures of him in this position, and it really shouldn't have sent all his blood straight to his cock the way it did.

"The fuck are you doing, bub?"

"Oh this one's definitely going to my wank material album." Wade just smirked in response.

"I'm gonna rip your fucking fingers out-" He moans loudly when Wade grabs his hair in his fist and tugs it back, arching Logan's back even more. Fireworks pop inside Logan's head as Wade's cock hit his prostate and brushes against it over and over in a quick pace.

"Shh, now kitty, just take it." Wade moans as he presses the record button. "My little porn star, so fucking hot."

"Shit- fuck, fuck, fuck," Logan whimpers, his cock twitching repeatedly, his balls growing tighter as his body prepares for yet another orgasm, probably the fifth of the night or something, he wasn't sure.

"Go on, Wolvie. Show me the good little cockwhore you are for me, kitten.

"Gonna cum, gonna-" A series of whines leaves his throat. His claws come out in a flash and dig into the cushions as he paints the couch with his seed, his eyes rolling back at the intense wave of pleasure hitting him like a train.

"God-" Wade wasn't far behind. He gaps and thrusts roughly a couple more times before spilling inside Logan with a desperate moan, as if he's been holding back just to bring his boyfriend to the edge first.

Logan was now boneless in the couch, his mind fully empty as he swims in the afterglow. He wasn't thinking or worrying or craving any drink, and it just felt like heaven. When his heartbeat comes back to normal he unsheathed his claws from the poor couch, sliding them back into his skin.

After a few seconds catching his breath, Wade pulls out with a grunt and records with a smirk as his cum leaks out of Logan's puffy hole before tossing his phone aside. He leans down and wrap his arms around Logan, settling them until they're spooning in the cum soaked couch, barely fitting them both layed like this.

"We should get up and clean this mess before Althea gets home wonder why the house smells like bleach." Logan sighs gruffly, but he doesn't make any move to leave, his body too exhausted.

"Mhmm. Just five more minutes, mom."

Logan roll his eyes.

"God, you're insufferable."

"Yeah, well, you love me anyway, peanut."

And he doesn't reply anything, not a mean retort or an annoyed growl because it was true.

He does love this idiot.

[seillarium]

melt my heart and claim it as yours

tl;dr. the classic 5+1 fic for my one and only love

pairings : portgas d. ace x reader

notes : mild angst (?), happy ending, no pronouns used (as far as i know) but written with fem reader in mind, no proofread, lowercase intended, a few profanities, english isn't my first language, overuse of italics lol, PORTGAS D. ACE LIVESSSS

word count : roughly 3.5k words

sincerely, sei : AAAAAARGHHH OMGOMG I FINALLY FINISHED IT ACTUALLY HOLY SH 😭😭 anyway, please lmk if there are grammatical errors, or typos, hopefully i don't fumble this, i think it's not rlly good. but to be fair, i was experimenting 😥

I.

you're a new recruit of the whitebeard pirates, having been rescued from an organization that experiments on people—honestly you didn't think you'd live this long with how things were going with your life.

you were hesitant at first, meekly greeting the members of the seemingly kind pirates around you. as far as you knew, pirates were pictured as barbaric, evil, and cruel. but all that you see are warm people that see each other as family. it left a foreign feeling in your chest, one that you can't seem to decipher.

but you have only one thing in mind: do you belong here?

-

your first day on the moby dick was chaos. good chaos, you convince yourself. you were utterly overwhelmed by the amount of people, and holy fuck, did you just get a thousand siblings in less than a day??

they threw a party, for the new nakama, they said. it was heartwarming to say the least, and a small smile appeared on your face for the first time ever since you were put into that hell.

you try to put your mind into what was happening now, 'stop thinking about that, you have a new life ahead of you.' there were a lot of people introducing themselves, though you can't understand most of them. you were dragged, pushed even, as the dining area was suddenly filled. maybe the term 'barbaric' was fitting for them, after all.

the first to approach you one on one was the first division commander; marco. he had checked if you were doing alright, and all you did was smile and nod—biting your tongue, trying not to mention how you think he looks like a pineapple.

the second would be thatch, he was a tad drunk drunk and his mind is cooked. his flirtatious words were slurred. he called you multiple names, he claimed that your smile is quite fetching. you weren't really affected, he is amusing, though.

a few more approached you, some just greeting briefly, some were inviting you to drink (you didn't, the taste of alcohol is shit anyway), and some just gave you a warm "welcome to the crew!"

they sure are a rowdy bunch, you think, as you were leaning on the railing. then another person approached you. he leaned on the railing next to you, copying your position.

when you finally looked at him, your mind short-circuited for a moment. the mysterious man was certainly attractive. he's topless, that's what stupefied you for a second. not that you never saw any other guy who walks without any shirt—this one just has a nice figure, definitely easy to look at.

"hey there! you're the new recruit, yeah? my name is portgas d. ace, it's nice to meet you."

his voice startled you, whoops, you're staring, how inappropriate. he's bowing politely, and it baffled you for the nth time today because; what is this, a pirate crew whose motto is 'we're different from other pirates'?! you had never met a pirate this polite your whole life. you ought to pinch yourself; maybe this is a silly dream after all.

"hello? earth to you, er.." he waved a hand to your face, only then did you look to his face. great, so you were looking at his open tits first?

"(name). it's nice to meet you." you greeted back with a small smile, and he grinned. oh, he looks so... kind. you felt your heart thump—or did it actually stop?

"(name), huh? what a pretty name for a pretty face." oh, cheeky. he's got a coy grin on his lips now. he's like thatch, then. but he succeeded to make you blush slightly.

"thanks...?" wow, way to go! you honestly didn't know what to reply, given that you were locked up for about 5 years with almost no social interaction with others.

he didn't seem to mind, in fact, he looked pleased at your answer. though, he did seem to notice your uncomfortable shift. he props his elbow to the railing, resting his cheek on his hand. "you're adorable."

and your mind clogged again, face exploding into a deep red as you furrowed your eyebrows, forming a confused expression. he seems sober, and he says it like he means it. the temperature just skyrocketed, must be from how flushed your cheeks are.

he laughed at your expression, and you found yourself liking the carefree sound and his boyish grin. he gazed at your eyes again, slightly pink cheeks and a grin that screams mischief. more compliments spill from his mouth. looks like you're in for an embarrassing night.

-

once the night ended, ace slapped a hand on his mouth, his cheeks flushed—fuck, he's on fire, literally. he was mesmerized by you, thus, the sudden compliment escaped him. he didn't mean to, but with your reaction? oh he wanted more. he honestly thought flirting would be a good way to take your mind off of things, thank god he didn't fumble. such a miracle you didn't notice how his back was on fire the whole time...

II.

weeks had passed since you became a whitebeard pirate. you learned a lot of things. one, you were living under a rock, literally and figuratively. the lab that you were once in was underground. you've been there since you were 15, causing you to lack knowledge about the recent happenings in the outside world.

two, it was hard to keep up and remember each of their names. your overwhelmed brain is turning into mush at this point, thankfully they're kind enough to say their names over and over again for you.

three, ace. that's it, ace. you learned that he's some kind of lost dog. trailing you everywhere you go, not that you're complaining. honestly if he wasn't sticking to you, you'd be sticking to him.

there's this magnetic pull that drags you to him, seems like you couldn't resist his warm nature. like a moth to a flame you were attracted to him. and you feel yourself burn, not in a bad way—like you were succumbing to his very fire and you think you'll be fine as ashes if it meant you'd be closer to him.

but it's like, his fire flickers when you move forward. he let's you near, but never close. it's like you know about him, but you don't know him. like he's keeping you at arm's length.

that does not stop the flirting, though.

"hey, I'm lost, can you give me directions to your heart?"

"if you were a triangle, you'd be acute one."

"aren't you tired? you've been running through my mind all day."

you're becoming a puddle of goo, it just gets embarrassing to the point you can't even form words.

"hey, (name), do you have a pen and a paper?" he suddenly approached you as you were walking around the ship. you shook your head 'no', surprised he's not making moves today.

"damn, no pen, no paper, yet you still draw my attention." he said with a shit-eating grin and a wink. "...."

"wait! (name)!!"

III.

a day alone with ace in a strange island is absolute havoc. you wonder how it's possible for one person to destroy half of a forest. well, to be fair, he is fire.

"are you a dumbass?!" you screeched, running away as fast as you can while a strange lion goes after you both. ace tried to pet it, you almost did too and out of a sudden everything went haywire.

"i didn't know it would be immune to fire!!" he screeched back, holding your wrist and practically dragging you.

"why the hell did you even try and pet a wild lion in the first place?!"

-

you're now sitting by a bonfire, lit by yours truly. you hug your knees to your chest, watching as the fire dances in the air.

the lion incident has passed, finding out it's actually frightened by water. you crossed a river and found a hilltop—which is where you are right now.

"you still cold?" he asked, sitting next beside you.

"kind of," not really, you're not exactly freezing, you just want more. of him, preferably.

he scooted closer, your shoulders touching. and heat immediately seeps through you. and for a moment you just relished his body temperature.

then the next thing you knew, your whole being was enveloped by his warmth. his arms looped on your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. he sent you a smile, and god, everything about him is warm.

"are you a campfire? because you're hot and i want s'more." and just when you though you could sit in peace.

"ace, you're literally the hot one between the two of us." you answered, exasperated to your wits' end. "aww, you think I'm hot?" you didn't know if you want to slap the smirk off his face or bury yourself 6 foor under.

"n-no?! i mean, you are, literally—" his grin widens. "y-you know what i mean!! and I'm cold.."

"think i can make your heart melt?" oh he did. you sighed, does he really mean all of this? you never really gave him replies, not that you could even form words with how your brain turns into a puddle when he throws you the most cheesy ass pick up line ever. where does he even gets all of these?

"Is it chilly out, or is that just the chill you send down my spine every time I see you?" a scoff escaped you. "it's cold right now."

"well, thank god i brought some socks, you're giving me cold feet." he said rather dramatically, his body sagging against yours.

"do you really mean all of this?" you asked out of the blue. is he just messing with you? is he really gonna burn you after all? maybe his flames would just combust your lonely heart to oblivion, then leave it to heave in the remaining smoke.

"of course." he replies almost immediately, his eyes seeking yours. sincerity swam in his dark orbs, a soft yet genuine smile on his lips. oh. maybe he was just trying to cradle you with his warmth, after all.

-

he takes a mental note to take this more seriously. thus, you didn't fail to notice how his lines were a bit more genuine, it still has a hint of playfulness—but everytime he looks into your eyes, it seems as though he's swallowing each emotion in them, fully drowning in you with those obvious lovesick orbs.

IV.

the night was cold, so was your heart. thatch had died, murdered by the hands of his own family. his own nakama. you sat on your bed, blank eyes staring to the window. it was pouring, as if the clouds were affected by the loss. the raindrops fell harder and harder, jut like the pounding in your chest as his death sinks in.

there were sudden knocks on your door. you didn't have to sit up, you knew who it was. "come in.." you croaked, voice breaking slightly.

the door opened and revealed a disheveled ace. he was quiet as he invited himself in, the familiar scent of your room filling his senses. "hey.." he greeted, yet it lacked the familiar warmth he always held. it was replaced by the bitter cold, gnawing at his insides.

"hey, you." despite his state, you felt warm. everytime the pirate comes into view, your heart is immediately filled with fervor. sparks surging through your veins.

ace wordlessly sat down beside you, head hung low and you know why. "I'm going to kill teach." he muttered, his resentment surfacing with each passing second.

"what?" you gaped, and you don't know whether to let him go or not. you weren't sure if the awful pit on your stomach was something worth noting. before you could speak further, his voice cuts into the air. sharp and determined.

"and you can't do anything to stop me." and for the first time ever, he made you cold. unpleasant shivers went down your spine and your heart dropped to the depths of doubt. and before you know it, protests escapes your lips while you shake him. it's unsettling, how you're holding onto him yet he's so cold.

"i don't care if it's dangerous, he killed thatch, he betrayed his own!" he raises his voice, but you can't find it in yourself to even flinch, still seeking that certain fire in his eyes. it's there, it's ignited, but not the kind of flame that you're looking for.

"i just... didn't want to leave without telling you goodbye." he mumbled, voice softening significantly.

"are you saying this will be the last time I'll see you?" you can't ignore it anymore, tears are stinging your eyes.

".... i—" he hesitated, breath hitching. "of course not, I'll come back for you."

for you.

his words rang in your ears, he sounds so genuine yet so full of doubt. and as your gaze on him lingers, all you could see is a lost boy, his judgement crumbling right before your eyes.

"come back alive, okay? I'll wait for you." you told him with such warmth and affection, your hand cupping his cheek.

at that moment, he looks like he'll break, your warmth seeping through his freckled cheek and straight through his heart and soul. it felt so surreal for him, he's made of fire, but it feels as though you were burning him.

"i don't know, it's like you're already killing me here, 'cause you took my breath away."

sigh.

V.

you're on fire.

not literally, but it may as well be with how you can feel the intense determination and fear in your bones. you stood near pops, the tense atmosphere wafting through the thick air in marineford.

ace is there, at the execution grounds—chained, bruised, bloodied, and regretful. you could see him clearly, yet he feels so far away.

and once the war started, you did your best to avoid the attacks sent to you, sprinting straight towards ace. you knew it was futile, the marines surrounding him far too strong compared to you. but you can't stop.

I'm coming for you, ace. the rapid thumping of your heart is all that you could hear, ignoring his desperate pleas of 'don't come here! it's not worth it!'

ace, ace, ace. you repeat his name in your head like a mantra. ace, ace, ACE. you screamed this time, voice breaking.

you legs stopped once you saw the dark hair of a young boy—screaming his lungs as he calls for his dear brogher, along with the intense surge of his haki. you weren't weakened by it, but you felt a sense of relief as he ran through the sea of marines ready to take his life.

instead of heading to ace, you sprinted to the boy—luffy, you assumed based on the countless stories from his brother. you helped fight off anyone in his way, putting all your trust in him.

you watch as he somehow freed ace. in awe as they fought alongside together, having perfect harmony.

you could only watch as he finally ran, straight to were you and the others were. and you felt so light seeing him, alive and well.

yet, you could only watch, as he was provoked by admiral akainu. you could only scream at him to stop, to just let it go. but of course you knew it was pointless. he's ace, he'll never let anyone dare to throw dirt on the name of his savior. he wouldn't let anyone insult the man who kindly called him as his son.

and thus, you could only watch as magma seeped through his chest. the ring in your ears eating up all your sanity, you couldn't even hear nor feel as the others dragged you away—unaware that you were running to him again.

you only watched as he whispered words to his brother, hugging him helplessly.

then everything became a blur.

VI.

the morning birds chirped, or was it the seagulls handing out the newspapers? nonetheless, the light from the window indicates that a new day is starting.

a new day, as you sat next to ace's bed. you never left his ever since you woke up. his organs were ruined, and you wonder how marco and the others had healed him.

but you didn't care about how. all you could ever care about is ace. he's alive. still, he's yet to wake up.

it's been a week, the familiar routine of sitting next to his bed was slowly embedding in your mind. you want nothing more than to see his eyes again, to see that bright smile that makes you think that the sun was nothing but an irrelevant orb up in the sky.

his chest was filled with bandages—another reminder of an ugly memory. you stared at him solemnly, fingers tracing his freckled cheeks.

then he stirred, and you flinched. your mind went blank. the gears in your head only turned once he gazed at you with those pretty eyes—effectively pulling you into the depths of your emotions.

"why are you crying?" were his first words, his voice was strained, his throat dry. only then did you realize everything was blurry.

"y-you—!" clutching his arm almost desperately, you found yourself crumbling in front of him. "you said you'd come back alive!"

"but i am alive." he said matter-of-factly.

"what if you died?!" honestly, you didn't know nor cared if you were making a point. all you did was sob his name over and over again, you arms coming up to wrap around his neck. crying as the man stroked your unkempt hair.

"...is this real?" he then asked, and the doubtful tone you once heard was at it again. you looked into his eyes, witnessing a broken man who looked as though he couldn't believe what has happened. "I'm actually alive?"

"of course you are! you're here, ace. you're fine." you said, partly to yourself, but mainly to him who looks like he'll break you with how he's holding you.

"you're alive. thank god you're alive, ace." and he cries. he cries and sobs and you don't know what else to do but to hold him.

"do i deserve to live? do i really deserve to survive?" and you felt your own tears falling. he sounds so broken, so lost, so doubtful.

you didn't question why he was asking that, rather, you cupped his cheeks and stared lovingly in his eyes.

"you do, ace." was all you have to say. was all he needed to hear. it won't be easy to remove those thoughts, no. but for now, it was enough.

"yeah?" he sniffled, a lopsided grin on his lips. you kissed his tears away, as he closed his eyes in bliss.

"yeah."

he grinned from ear to ear, and you returned it. and you both sat there, just giggling to each other.

"can i borrow your sunglasses? i can't stare at you too much 'cuz you're hotter than the sun." instead of laughing or blushing like you always do, your eyes softened.

"really? your eyes must be weak then. i can stare at you for hours." and before he could even so much as react, you continued.

"you know, you're like the sun. so bright, so warm. and every time i see you, i don't know whether i should bask in you or to hide because you burn me. god, you set my heart on fire, ace. and i don't care if i turn into ashes as long as i can be beside you all the time." you finished, staring at him like a lovesick fool.

he was out of words, his face exploding in a bright red and you wondered how much restraint he has right now to not burst into flames on the spot. he gaped at you as you stared at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"i love you." he muttered. now you were the one rendered speechless. no words can express how he makes you feel. and you all but grinned, giddy and drunk off of the feeling of his love.

"i love you too." and before you two could lean in and share that sweet sweet kiss, the door opened and you saw the half of the crew falling down from their pile. looks like they've been eavesdropping.

and they didn't even had any shame as they cheered, chanting 'kiss, kiss, kiss!' loud screams of jovial voices filled the cabin once you two actually did.

familiar warmth seeped through your body and cradled your heart. and you had an epiphany at that moment: you belong here, right at this very moment, forever and more.

ps. : NAHHH CAN YALL TELL I GOT LAZY AT THE END im sorry it took so long i procrastinated for like 2 days �� thank you for reading!!

taglist : @captainportgasdace @malxoxo (there's so many of yall who liked my previous post, my lazy ass could never, i might tag yall later tho if i get my energy back <33)

[ist4rgirlo]

────────── 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜.𝐟

ONE SHOT !

they did say that when two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find a way back to each other. however, are you ready to open your heart again to a person who has broken it in the past?

SEQUEL TO : you’re losing me

───────────────────────────

“They say that your first love never dies. You can put out the flame but not the fire”

It was true, for me atleast. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t love Conrad, because I do, I still do — no matter how much he had hurt me before, a piece of my heart is still beating for him.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

It wasn’t easy to move on, he made me feel things — things that I never felt before. He was different, he just was.

For two years, I had done my best to put the past behind me, but still, I would often find myself thinking of Conrad and wondering what could have been.

Until one day, when an unexpected text message popped up on my phone. It was from Conrad, of all people. Confused but curious, I opened the message. The only thing that it said was 'Are you free today?’ Could he possibly still care about me, after all this time?

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I thought back to the words we had said to each other; the heartache that had been so painful that it had taken so long for me to move on. But still, here he was, wanting to see me. Was I willing to open my heart up to someone who had broken it so badly in the past?

───────────────────────────

Conrad asked me if we could meet at the beach near Cousins. I dont know why why I said yes, maybe I wanted closure — maybe I wanted to hear his side.

I stood on the dock, the ocean air getting caught in my hair. Although the sun was out and the sky a brilliant blue,

I couldn't bring myself to take in the beauty of the day. I was too consumed with my thoughts, instead glancing around, distracted and flustered.

I saw Conrad — standing at the end of the shore, a better vision than the view of the ocean I had become accustomed to.

I swallowed hard as I stared into his eyes - the same eyes that had shattered my heart months ago. He looked different. Older, strong, different from the man I had said goodbye to all those months ago.

But there he was, standing in front of me, arms crossed — pain pierced through me like a hot knife as I remembered fond memories I shared with him. Memories that were now tarnished by the hurt he had caused me.

I took a deep breathe and stepped forward — walking towards him.

“Hey Conrad,” I said tentatively.

He looked up with surprise, then quickly looked away. “Hey y/n,” he muttered.

“It’s been so long huh?” Conrad asked. I looked at him before answering “Yeah, It has. I just want to get to the point already. Why did you want to see me?” I asked him.

His eyes met mine, filled with regret and longing. "I never stopped thinking about you," he confessed, his voice laced with raw emotion.

I listened, my heart warring between the past and the present. Memories flooded my mind - stolen kisses, whispered promises, and the crushing pain of betrayal. And yet, beneath it all, the flicker of what once was remained.

"You broke me," I replied, my voice steadying.

Conrad reached out to gently touch my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Please, Y/n," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "What I did was fucked up, you didn’t deserve that — you didn’t deserve to be ignored, I-I should’ve paid more attention to you”

"I messed up, I admit it. I was a fool to let you go. I've regretted it every single day, and I wish I could turn back time and change things." He said, taking a step closer.

I blinked back tears, trying to resist the pull I felt towards him. "Conrad, it's not that easy. You hurt me so deeply, and I've spent so long trying to heal." I said, backing away from him.

"I know," he murmured, his voice cracked with emotion. "But I'm here now, and all I want is a chance to make things right, to prove to you that I've changed. I want to be better for you.”

His words tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Could we really find a way back to each other? Was it possible to rebuild what had been broken?

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool, baby, with me

The sound of crashing waves filled the silence between us, punctuating the weight of the moment. I looked into Conrad's eyes, searching for sincerity, I’m scared — scared of risking again. Scared of getting hurt again.

“I-I don’t know, Conn-“ I said looking down, he walked closer — his hands reaching for mine.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, just.. just let me love you. Let me be a better man for you.” he paused “I’ll wait for you”

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

I looked up at him, I saw the glint in his eyes — he was genuine, his voice sounded hopeful — his eyes filled with love. It wouldn’t hurt if I tried again right? maybe now, it’ll be right.

[chosokamosbf]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖙.

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x gn! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic about brat taming with a needy jason who's trying to make up for an argument. in his own way.

WARNINGs: 18+, dom! gn! reader, sub! jason, no penetration, brat taming, shoe humping/grinding, (minor, on reader's part) degradation & praise, (minor, on reader's part) slapping, partial nudity & begging on jason's end.

WORD COUNT: 1700+

NOTEs: second person & no plot. first smut & not beta'd. this insert is more of a mean type until the end. [guy, and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

It's never easy to get him into that 'sub' mindset. He's always catching on to exactly what you're doing. At every turn, he's struggling against you, making sure there isn't a moment of vulnerability with how easy it can be to crack down the tension into something enjoyable. Sometimes.

The mere thought of giving away someone else that control is enough to stir nausea in the pit of his stomach.

And it stays there. For days, if it wants. Jason's head never makes it easy. Even through the fog that wraps around him in the most gentle manner that can be mustered, the worst possibilities always stand at the back of it. It makes him regret even letting himself be touched; no matter how much he's reassured you'll never take advantage of what's given.

The other half of the time, he craves it like air.

Finally, it's not only the ache. His head doesn't have to be caught on solely about how bad his legs are still burning up on the inside, be it from patrol or whatever the hell else he was doing, because he can grasp onto the sweat-slicked memories that came with the previous day despite it. 

The sting remains, and yet. Wounds are carefully tended to afterwards, and bite marks from a completely separate source are kissed until enough is enough, and you are pushed away with whatever laughter his sore throat can still give.

Today is one of the better ones.

The earlier thoughts aren't biting away at what can be considered rational. His heart isn't running a marathon in the cage around it, but Jason's breathing is still one of the loudest sounds in the room, other than the bed creaking under your weight as the space between the two of you is closed.

Under thick lashes, hazel eyes stare up at you from the floor, and you groan at the obvious intent to get back into good graces. "C’mon, don’t look at me like that."

The argument that brought up the act was, honestly, not the worst. Another misunderstanding, something taken out of context. Words were left unsaid, and the 'wrong' ones were spoken out without much thought other than they'd dig deep. Compared to the start of the relationship, it's been getting better.

Jason tries with what little he knows and pushes past the urge to cut everything off at the roots. He could've left for weeks—leave entirely without a single message. Instead, he's not going to put you through that again, but it'll never be easy for him. And so, he takes a different approach.

He's on his knees in front of the bed with a wounded, puppy-eyed expression. With the bottom of his outfit stripped, he's left all alone in a hoodie and jockstrap as dark as the night outside your guys's little hideout. The black straps stretch around his thighs, and with his pants forgotten somewhere around the apartment, the bulk of his scars are out in the open.

His underwear gives away at the bulge underneath. Even kneeling in front of you alone made him unreasonably needy.

The remark has Jason nuzzling his head on top of one of your legs. Black curls envelope your knee.

"'M sorry. I wanna be good, I swear," He purrs, and he wants to try and smile to play the part, be cute, and let anything else fade into background noise, but he's not suited for that. Eyes scan over your face, looking for some semblance of understanding. "Feel good. All for you."

Your foot presses against the bulge enough for him to feel it down almost the entire length. A hiss breathes through his clenched jaw, and he lets a whine slip and curls forward, resting his cheek on your leg.

"Hmm—don’t know. You sure you can do that without barking at me like a dog tonight?"

He takes full advantage of the indulgence, dragging his face against you in slow motion while he pushes down the edges of his lips. Well aware he's won, his hands come up around your leg, palming at you for the chance the contact might be taken away as easily as it was given.

The act drops instantly.

"What, you can’t handle it?" His eyes shut for a second before staring back at you with heavy, glassy lids, mouth agape as he practically drools in panted breaths. "I'm not a fucking dog."

In small, janky movements, so it isn't obvious, Jason rocks his hips forward. He stops complaining, though, when your hand comes down to pet his curls.

As much as your boyfriend's merciless begging and apologies are usually enough to get the better of you in these quiet moments, it hasn't been hard to notice how he's been exploiting the niceties to compromise with you over every act in bed.

It's difficult to get him to let go of control despite the obsession and encourage him to rest in a healthy manner once in awhile if it's just so easy to swindle you into doing what he wants. He seems to think he'll get everything he wants with a few pretty sounds, and that's been cemented in his head.

So, tonight—maybe if the cards are played right—can be a good teaching point. Just to show you aren’t going to put up with his bullshit.

“You can cum with my shoe, right, Jay?”

His brows furrow, but then he dips his back to the floor while his eyes flicker close.

Yeah, no. The summer heat isn't kind to the city, leaving your shared room smoldering apart from the fan in the corner, so every motion forces him to suck in more heated air. At the very least, he could be up there with you. It wouldn't be some plain clothes sticking to his skin from the sweat.

The floor, though padded with carpet, is getting uncomfortable real fast.

"Please—please, can you use your mouth or hands?"

And much to his surprise, you press on his dick uncomfortably hard. He tries not to shift in place as it happens, taking in a harsh breath all the while listening to you—listening to the words sink in through his racing head.

"What, is my foot not good enough for you? Little brat."

All his plans turn into nothing. He thought it'd at least take awhile before you'd get this harsh. He wasn't even trying to be that, but it's good enough.

The lump in his throat is swallowed past, and nothing sounds out. Jason shakes his head lightly, refusing to even lift his bottom lip from where he has it pinned under his teeth.

"Good. Then hump my foot." He lets out a pitiful whimper, hoping to coax some sympathy out of you.

It doesn’t work. So slowly, he pushes his hips forward and back.

And he does that for awhile, and it doesn't even feel that good. It's embarrassing being forced to listen to himself heave through every breath.

Gradually, pre-cum soaks through the jockstrap. It makes it easier, but it's still a fucking shoe. It's all he can focus on. He struggles to not dig his fingers into the thick of your leg, to get his mind to focus on anything else but the sting that comes with moving them at all. His knuckles are pressed firmly against the wrap around them—his knees hurt.

He's cursing himself out in his own head. It doesn't help with the burn at the edge of his lids, obviously.

He wipes the beginning of the waterworks against your pants, doing it along with each drag so it isn't too clear what he's doing while his forehead is pressed to your knee, but it doesn't stop. So, he spares himself a bit of the shame and tries to use it to garner some pity.

"Please, please—"

"Do you even know what you're begging for?" You know what he's doing. As hard as it is to ignore the pretty sobs that always distress you, you continue, "What are you crying for, brat?"

He really should've taken that glass earlier without letting his thoughts get the better of him, forgetting everything else you've done for him in the years you've known each other in favor of an intrusive thought.

Jason's voice sounds as rough as it feels as he wails and grips your leg tighter. "Please—touch me. Touch me; I'll be good."

"You sure? You going to listen for once?" You lightly push down on his bulge once again, and that just gets him to grind more frantically in the moment.

A light slap comes over the side of his face, and finally he peers up at you while your hand comes around to tilt his face up by the jaw. Your thumb runs over the streaks of tears, drying that part as you make sure his attention is on you alone.

"You gonna be a good boy for me and listen to me?"

His eyes seal after a moment.

And then a groan slips by undeterred. He leans into your hand, nodding while he does. His hips buckle without any protest, grounding against the leather of your shoe, because if he doesn't do something fast, the heat building up in his stomach is going to burst into nothing but a spark.

Your voice draws him in further: "Alright then, then do what I said."

The last few stray drops are dried by your pants. And just like that, he is cumming. You rub against his clothed cock, coaxing him through the short scene of euphoria as his cum leaks through the underwear.

It's not much, but it helps to glide your shoe nicely over the twitching length.

You don’t stop the stroking, and he begins to hiccup at the overstimulation. Jason doesn't do anything but shudder in response; he can't bring himself to. As much as it'd be nice to pull away now, the top of your hand is inching into his hair, your fingers brushing through it just barely.

Your foot eases off.

Once he catches his breath, the long sleeves of a hoodie wrap around your leg wholly, and during that, he uses it as a clutch while practically collapsing forward.

"There’s my boy."

With the exhaustion wrecking him altogether, Jason lets himself smile without punishment for once. His head begins to nuzzle into the warmth of your hand.

[borderlinereminders]

I got upset today. I felt like words were being put in my mouth that I didn't say, and it was a trigger of mine. It is a trigger of mine because of things from when I growing up.

I'm not sharing this for sympathy, or anything like that but as a reminder that I am not perfect. I get a lot of asks about how easy I make it all seem, and how lucky I am to not be struggling anymore. And the thing is, I do still struggle. I am still recovering. I am still learning to deal with my triggers and not take things so hard.

My recovery isn't over. My quality of life is so much better than it used to be, but I still have a lot to learn.

Part of my point is that it's okay to struggle. Recovery isn't perfect. Recovery isn't linear. I had a bad day, and probably shouldn't have engaged as much I did in the conversation. I got upset and had urges to delete my blog. In the end, I used a coping mechanism. I called my best friend and ranted to her, and talked it out with her. I felt calm, and much clearer.

So while I did struggle, I still handled this much better than I would have before. I didn't give into urges, and I handled my feelings in a healthy way. But I also want to say that even if I didn't do that... Even if I had fallen back on a bad habit, my recovery progress would still not be undone. The lessons I learned are still there. And I could always try again.

Please don't beat yourself up when recovery is hard, or when you relapse or fall back onto old habits. It's okay to take a breath, and try again.

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝒢ℰ𝒯 𝒰𝒫!

༉‧₊˚. 𝓈𝓎𝓃ℴ𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: it’s reiner’s special day! what better way to start his morning than by treating him to a sweet surprise?

༉‧₊˚. 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈: ( 1k+ words of . . . ) reiner braun x fem!reader, slight fluff, nsfw/smut, modern au, fem!reader (black coded), established relationship, consented somnophilia, oral (m. receiving), use of pet names (ex. sugar, baby, honey, mama), lowercase intended, all characters are adults, explicit language, minors shoo!

༉‧₊˚. 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇: happy birthday to reiner fuckin’ braun, my favorite man in the whole wide world!!! he deserves a million big fat wet kisses and a billion more hugs. i can only convert my love for him into a smutty little drabble, so here we have it! (title’s kinda-sorta inspired by new jean’s song ‘cause it was on replay while i wrote this . . .) just wanted to put out something sweet for papa reiner’s big day, hope y’all enjoy! 🎀

the calendar’s graced with the change of a new month– the first of august.

today’s particularly special; reiner turning a year older. the sheets of your shared bed rustle about as you make attempts to stretch, but you’re stilled by the weight of reiner— particularly his extended arm strewn over your hip. it’s futile to try and move, especially when your husband sleeps like a log.

it’s amusing to observe his stillness; your drowsy eyes fixate on reiner in what you can only call pure adoration. beside you he rests, the breadth of his naked chest rising and falling in tandem with every puff of air that comes and goes. wispy fringes of blonde fall across his forehead, slightly outgrown as it’s been a good month or more since his last haircut. reiner’s generally furrowed expression is now easy and light, with his lips parted in the slightest to release subtle snores. even in a haze of sleep, he looks nothing short of ethereal.

you wonder what you could do to start his day memorably; breakfast in bed isn't even an option, considering that reiner might wind up spilling orange juice and breadcrumbs on the covers.

still, you intend to spoil him however you can, so you opt on waking him in the best way imaginable– a lovingly nasty blowjob. he’d mentioned it a couple nights back, how he wouldn’t mind if he arose to the sight of you sucking him off. carefully, you slink out from his hold and delve beneath the sheets, pressing chaste kisses wherever you can manage to reach. the brush of your lips aren’t enough to move him. reiner doesn’t wake, not just yet.

with limber movements, you continue to work your way further down, dragging off his plaid-print boxers until you’ve gained enough access. there his cock lies, soft against the thick expanse of his left thigh. he’s girthy, even without any stimuli. reiner’s always had some width to him, though he’s softer right now— easier to take into your mouth. your plush lips separate, eagerly so, trapping his dusty-pink tip between them. your head lowers, easing inch by inch into your pliant mouth. a tiny groan escapes him, and you pause. he tosses left, but remains at rest.

reiner doesn���t yet know how doting you’re being; lathering him in wet kisses and spit-smeared kitten licks, curious to see how much it’ll move him. saliva seeps past your mouth, down your chin and makes a mess of his now-twitching shaft. you know how much he’d love such a view.

the bob of your head is lax and controlled, suckling his cockhead until it pulses on your tongue— growing bigger and hotter until he eventually awakens. reiner squints at the beams of sun that pour into the room, rolling his muscular neck around to loosen any stubborn fatigue. his hair’s cutely tousled, golden eyes hooded with sleep. he displays a dazed half-grin, one that proves he’s currently unaware, but fuck, does he like whatever it is he’s feeling.

“ooh— g’mornin’, baby,” a dozy reiner manages to rasp out. the low bass of his voice channels from deep in his throat, and the addition of sleepiness atop it makes you throb. reiner peels the milk-white covers away, gladdened by the sight of you between his legs, as vulgar as it may be. his sizeable palm reaches for your face, caressing with gentility.

“happy birthday, rei,” you mumble out, a sliver of spit tethering your puffy lips to his big cock. it takes him a moment to register your words; he’d been much too focused on how nicely your mouth felt wrapped around him.

“that’s today already, huh?” he recalls amidst an eye-watering yawn. it’s ridiculous to think that he almost forgot his own damn birthday . . . it’s just that you’re working him so well, the pleasure must be dumbing him down. at times, you think you take his birthday more seriously than he does himself.

“i booked us a reservation for later tonight, baby. it’s at that steakhouse you like,” while sweetly carrying on with conversation, your unoccupied hand curls around his dick. each stroke is firm and well-paced, with just the right amount of pressure to make reiner shudder. “mm, t-that sounds nice, sugar,” he’s choking on his words already. soon enough, he’ll reach his limit. you dip your head back down with a sense of resolve, hoping to pry a good and thorough orgasm out of him.

you moan around him, and his toes curl against the duvet. your cheeks hollow, going faster as a means of prompting him closer to ecstasy. those pretty eyes of yours shining so earnestly, peering up at him with such a strong aim to please might just be the very thing that ruins him completely.

reiner allows his thumb to run across your cheek, though the motion’s done a little shakier than normal. you can't blame him much; he’s hardly able to stay composed when you’ve got the entirety of his cock shoved down your throat. “you’re so good to me, honey,” reiner groans out. his voice drops a bit, sounds a little fainter. you can’t tell whether it’s the doing of his impending orgasm or sheer gratitude. “— always so fuckin’ good to me.”

your tongue traces down a protruding vein and swirls around the base of him. you can feel his twitching grow all the more rapid, with each passing second.

“gonna cum?” you coo to him, receiving the hasty nod of his head in response. “mhm . . . keep going, mama, please,” is his low whine, and you’re quick to comply. today, he’s getting whatever his heart desires. your mouth runs hot against him, and you bring a hand to tug at his girthy underside. suctioning lips, touchy hands— it’s the merging of both that undoes him. breathless moans and profanities flow, and he just can’t help but throw his head back at how lewdly you’re drinking up his cum, sucking him dry. you swallow all he has to offer, leaving not a droplet to go to waste.

a hefty sigh escapes him. you crawl your way up his broad frame, making abode upon his chest with your face to his pecs. you crack a smile over the fervent hammering of his heart’s rhythm against your ear.

“love you so much,” reiner says in a breezy whisper. he cranes his neck downwards to present a kiss to you. smoothly, his lips slide against yours, colliding effortlessly. he can taste remnants of himself on your tongue.

“and i love you,” your manicured fingertips dance along his collarbone. from the angle you’re admiring him in, reiner appears serene. happy, better put.

‘fucked out’ is certainly a good look on the birthday boy.

[sweetiesicheng]

dk - retirement

word count : 840

-

"y/n!" seokmin shouts and runs over to you. with your trophy by your feet, you open your arms and practically jump into his. "you did so amazing out there, baby," he says to you and pecks your lips.

"thanks," you reply with a smile. "did you get some good shots?" you ask.

"yea. gonna have a lot of editing to do, but it'll be alright," he says to you and puts you on the ground.

you look around and notice someone looking at you. it looks like they're trying to get your attention so you can be interviewed.

"i think i gotta go, babe," you say to him.

"hm? oh," seokmin nods, "go. i'm going to get some more shots."

you go over to an area to be interviewed and people are almost swarming you. some security guards have to settle everyone down before you can be interviewed.

"y/n! how does it feel to have won your last race?"

"people say your performance when you were in monaco was better. any comments?"

"y/n, why did you decide to retire?"

you take a deep breath in before speaking. "today's race was an honor to be a part of. despite the difficulty, i think all of the participants showed themselves today," you speak in front of many mic packs that are being held by reporters. "the decision to retire wasn't an easy one, but today's race was my last race as a professional. i have been honored with being one of the many professionals in this field, and i can't wait to see what the future has to bring for the future for me as well as others."

more questions start being thrown out, and you answer them as you can. the questions start to focus on about your retirement, but you don't mind. the news was slowly let public because of how well liked you are.

when you're done getting interviewed, you meet with your crew.

"dinner on me, alright?" you say to them, "and you guys gotta meet the kid."

"chan, right?" one of your crew asks. "think he can keep up?"

you grin, "just because i'm not driving doesn't mean i'll be gone. i'll make sure he gets everything straight."

"you don't need to help us, y/n. we got everything," another crew member says to you while some of them pack up stuff.

"you sure?" you ask.

"yea, don't worry about it," they reply.

"thanks."

you look around and find seokmin taking photos in the press area. you don't want to bother him yet since he needs to get his photos, so you go to another area and change out of your suit. when you're done changing, you pack up your backpack and sit in a room where a few of the racers are.

you're pretty friendly with most of them, but you didn't feel like talking to them right now. honestly, you're getting pretty sad since everything's over. your career that you started off years ago is now over. however, you know you won't be away from the races. maybe you'll end up being a commentator once in a while.

but for now, you'll live your life.

—

"baby?"

you look up and see seokmin walking in with his backpack on. it looks like he's done working for the day since his camera isn't out.

"you okay?" he asks when he walks over to you.

you nod, "yea. just a little sad," you reply.

"i bet," he replies and kisses your forehead. "you know, we'll probably be back here to watch a race in a few months," he says, "and you can just take mingyu's car for a little joyride on the course when we go to a race."

you chuckle, "i definitely will do that."

"ready to go?" he asks, holding his hand out to you.

you nod and take his hand, "let's go."

you and seokmin leave the building together. there's still some paparazzi lingering, but you give simple waves and smiles to the photographers. you meet with your crew and all of you decide to head to a restaurant for dinner.

"hey y/n," one of your crew members calls. he holds your trophy up, "i think you should bring this one with us."

"bring it to dinner? and have seokmin drink out of it again?" you ask.

"oh come on, you did that before i did," seokmin says to you.

"and i'll do it again if it means you'll do it," you say to him. "hand it over," you say and receiver your trophy.

"wait, stop right there. you look cute," seokmin says and suddenly takes his backpack off. he fishes his camera out and turns it on. "gotta show off the best racer in this industry," he says and takes the lens cap off.

you smile, "she's retired now," you remind him.

"doesn't matter. she'll be number one in my heart for the rest of our lives," seokmin says and holds up his camera to take a photo of you.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

“let me love you!” “i’ll never hurt you.” “you’re easy to love.”

from the prompt list with Billy please 💗

(in my head this time it's reader that needs to be told this because she is insecure, i see a lot of hurt/comfort fics about billy being comforted and while i absolutely love those, i feel like the idea of reader being the one that needs to be taken care of not is not explored enough in the Billy fandom 🤍)

am I projecting ? - yes absolutely

Thank you for this request! Literally loved writing this! I hope you like how it turned out :) I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if it isn't please let me know

Is this billy? no. Do I care? no. I love writing billy as a fluffy man and if you don't like that, that's okay <3

This week has been rough, honestly things have been rough for a while now but this week has been the worst of the worst.

All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay swallowed by the blankets. You didn't want to deal with anything or anyone anymore for a hot minute. And as you drive home you can feel the waves of emotions finally starting to wash over, you when you pull into your driveway your vision starts to blur. You slowly trudge up to your front door and immediately start to undress before crawling into your bed, ready to sleep the day away.

You fell asleep without even noticing. You slept through the seven phone calls Billy left you, you slept through Billy unlocking your door with the spare key you gave him, and you slept through him calling for you as he wanders into your home.

"Babe??? I'm starting to actually worry here!" He yells out before reaching your bedroom. He is about to yell your name again but he freezes seeing you buried under all of your blankets. "Fuck babe..." He kicks off his boots and crawls next to you in bed.

"Baby...come on wake up for me sweetheart" he whispers to you as he moves your hair out of your face gently. You slowly open your eyes and smile once you're greeted by the sight of his bright blue eyes. "Hi baby" you greet him sleepily and snuggle into his chest slightly.

Normally this would melt his heart, however, this time his heart fills with worry. To anyone else, they may have missed how your eyes seemed dull, or they would've shrugged it off as you being tired but he knows better than that, he knows you better then he knows himself.

"Want to fill me in here? What happened today?" Asking this question broke down your walls again and tears started filling your eyes before you could stop it. "I--well it was um..." You clear your throat trying to stop the feeling of it closing in on itself.

"Do you think I'm hard to love?" once those words were out in the atmosphere you squeezed your eyes tightly in hopes that if Billy did hear you that you closing your eyes tight enough would make you disappear. Billy did hear you though, he heard you loud and clear and that broke his heart in two.

"You're easy to love." He says matter of factly, leaving no room to argue. "Let me love you, Let me prove that what you said is so wrong." His brows furrow as anger started to flow through his veins. Who said this to them? Who put those thoughts into their beautiful mind? How long have they been thinking this? As these questions started to flow through his mind more anger started to flow through his veins.

You shake your head not wanting to think about this anymore. "I'm just so tired. I'm tired of feeling hurt, of getting hurt, of being let down. It's been such a shitty week. Been such a long, exhausting week." You ramble on before Billy makes you stop. "I'll never hurt you." Billy says in nearly a whimper. The thought of hurting you in any way destroys his soul and if he ever did hurt you he truly believes he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"I'd never hurt you. Anyone that has hurt you are the worst, most stupidest group of people to ever live let alone breath. I don't know if you know this, if you realize this, but I...god I really love you and that isn't easy for me. If I ever hurt you I'm done for."

Your eyes filled with tears for a whole different reason. You've never seen Billy so vulnerable, you've never felt so loved before either. From how you were laying on his chest you leaned up and kissed his chin softly. "I love you too Billy, more than you'll ever know" He smiled softly and kissed your head as you rest your head on his chest one more time before falling back to sleep. As you sleep Billy starts to play with your hair and continues to whisper how much he loves you.

[leftoverghosts]

dirty money isn't that good

strugglin' for my survival.

It's like winning the jackpot when Patrick is tasked with keeping an eye on you. But honestly? How dare he try to keep work and pleasure separate? Your ego can’t take the hit.

patrick zweig x reader. mentioned tashi x art.

warnings: some curse words. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. age gap. pat is probably thirty two and reader is twenty three. not beta read.

nori says: i was writing conartist!patrick and this came to me instead. oops. send me ideas if you want to! xoxo.

word count: 1,454

His cousin's voice was desperate as she pleaded, "Come on, Pat. It'll be easy money. A couple grand for just a weekend's worth of work? And you don't have any matches for the next few days— I already checked." She paused and added with a knowing tone, "just think of all the tennis rackets you could buy with that kind of cash."

Anora, a lawyer by trade, was one of the few remaining Zweigs who still kept in touch with Patrick. She knew that whenever she needed someone to do odd jobs, she could count on his desperate need for money. This particular task, however, seemed unusually peculiar.

"All you have to do is keep an eye on the brat for a few hours and make sure she doesn't get into any trouble, it’s just babysitting," she had persisted in trying to convince him.

Despite his hesitation, Patrick eventually caved. The promise of an easy payout was too tempting to resist, especially for someone as cash-strapped as he was. "Fine, I'll do it," he sighed into the phone. "But this better not be anything shady.”

To his initial satisfaction, Patrick discovered that the person he was being asked to look after for seventy-two hours was not a child, as he had feared. Instead, it was the spoiled twenty-three-year-old daughter of one of Anora's affluent clients who was embroiled in legal troubles for defrauding investors.

Twenty four hours in now, and he still refused to refer to it as "babysitting," even though it essentially what he was doing, because the immature little thing seemed hellbent on getting into his pants.

You had him under your control, dictating his every action like a trained animal. You brought him along as you shopped for lingerie, making him choose colors that would compliment your skin tone and standing by while you changed in the dressing room.

He even held your bags and endured being gushed about by women around the same age as you, as if he were invisible. One of them thought they recognized him, but you quickly silenced her. Patrick was a new toy that was meant for your enjoyment only. You had never liked to share.

It was obvious that you were frustrated by how he remained stoic. Business was business to Patrick and he hadn’t given you anything to work with. Not even a single fucking comment about the revealing outfits you had specifically chosen for his enjoyment.

Today, however, you decided to stay in and relax. That's how he found himself on the opposite end of a luxurious Jean Royère couch, his mother would have loved, pointedly avoiding looking at the monster occupying the other end.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't try to escape again," Patrick explains for what feels like the fourth time. “Your dad needs you to lay low and not cause any trouble.”

“So what you just like to watch little girls?” you taunt, trying to get under his skin.

Patrick doesn't respond immediately, clenching his jaw as he weighs whether or not he wants to engage with your insults. "You're not a little girl," he finally says, tearing his eyes away from the TV. He had already seen you naked and both of you were aware of the intentions behind your actions.

You grin and let your gaze roam over him - from his worn-out shoes to his gym shorts, then up to his Black Keys t-shirt and handsome face. You can't help but think about how much better that nose and those lips would be put to use as a seat.

"But I'll always be my daddy's little girl, won't I? Otherwise, you'd be out of a job." He sighs and your smirk widens, almost sinister. "But you are older than me, right? You seem like someone who has been through a messy divorce and has three kids running around. Where’s your ex-wife?"

“Definitely no ex-wife.” He quirks an eyebrow like he’s thinking about the second half of your statement. “And no kids.”

“Girlfriend?” Patrick shakes his head no, “boyfriend?” Again, no. “Well, what do you have?”

“Tennis,” he replies with a shrug.

“Tennis?” You quirk an eyebrow, confused.

“Like the sport? You hit a ball, someone hits it back?” He says exasperated, looking at you as if you’re the dumbest thing in the world but you don’t miss how his eyes flicker down to your cleavage.

“Like the sport.” You mock him, tits bouncing as you move closer to his end of the couch. “Are you any good at it? I had a tennis coach for a few years when I was younger. Maybe that’s why my dad picked you.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and doesn't give away any information, but you're determined.

“Show me.” That perks his interest.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Patrick chuckles at the racket you hand him from the gear shed by your private court. Your eyes flicker down to the limited edition tour and then back up to the brunette. "Not a fan of Art Donaldson?"

"He's alright, I guess," Patrick responds with a shrug, but there’s a cockier air about him now.

"You guess?" you snort, twirling a second signed Art Donaldson racket in your hand, he’d given both to you personally. Your mom knew Tashi Duncan-Donaldson, and she’d shown you some tricks. You weren’t really big on her husband, but fuck Tashi was a Goddess. "He's won six slams. That's more than 'alright'."

Patrick gives you a curious look, as if questioning whether or not you are actually good at tennis or just a fan of his former best friend. In those short shorts you're wearing, he wouldn't be surprised by either possibility.

"Sure," is all Pat says as he smirks, getting ready to serve.

As the game progresses, you find yourself struggling to keep up with Patrick's power and swift movements. It's clear that he takes his tennis seriously, and you can't help but admire the way he effortlessly dominates the court. It makes your mind drift to how he is in bed, and your game suffers for it.

However, once you focus and despite your initial doubts, it turns out that you're not half bad at tennis either. In fact, you surprise yourself with how well you're able to return some of Patrick's shots.

"Not bad for someone who claimed to have just had a coach when they were younger," Patrick goads as he hits an expertly placed shot that has you scrambling to reach it.

You give him a cheeky glare before returning the ball with as much force as you can muster. The two of you continue, each trying to outwit and outplay the other. He’s mostly toying with you, but you’re in high spirits and that makes it fun.

After what feels like hours, both of you are panting and sweating from the intensity of the game. But there's also a sense of exhilaration and excitement that comes from such a competitive match.

Finally, Patrick hits a shot that is just too fast for you to return. He grins triumphantly as he scores the winning point.

"Well done," he says with genuine respect in his voice as he offers his hand for a high-five.

You gladly accept it, feeling proud of yourself for keeping up with someone like Patrick on the court.

"I have to admit, I was impressed," he says as the two of you make your way to the bench on the side. Him, a few steps behind, eyes glued to your ass. This is like Christmas for him.

"Thanks," you reply with a smile, more authentic than any you’ve given him thus far.

"Just don't let it get to your head," Patrick teases playfully, nudging your shoulder with his own.

You laugh and roll your eyes at his cocky attitude. But deep down, you can't deny that there's something about his confidence that is incredibly attractive.

The sweet scent of freshly cut grass from the nearby gardens intermingles with the musty, earthen aroma of the man next to you. Your hand trembles as you grab your water bottle and take a long swig, savoring the cool liquid rushing down your parched throat.

As you tilt your head back down, your eyes meet Patrick's and you see him watching a bead of sweat tracing its way down your neck, disappearing into the valley of your cleavage. A lump forms in your throat as he licks his lips hungrily, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

In a split second, he pulls you close and his tongue dances its way into your mouth, overwhelming you with an intense desire that leaves you gasping for air and unable to form a single thought.

Game, set, match.