#i feel sorry for them more than anything these days

[bettyvick]

thank you

Clark Kent x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: When you got pregnant at your 20's you thought your life was done. Your boyfriend was gone and your parents kicked you out of their house. But when you met Clark Kent, he helped you during the hardest time of your life.

Warnings: Crying, age gap (reader is 23 and Clark is 30), fluff, reader on a difficult situation, reader is insecure, a bit angsty, clark is an angel, sexual explicit content, riding, mention of fullness, penetration (f receiving), praising, crying during sex of pleasure, orgasms, giving birth.

A/N: Finally some clark! I've written this in two hours, sorry if there are some mistakes <3

You never planned to be a mother, much less at twenty-three. You had your whole life ahead of you. You wanted to get your PhD, travel around the world, and one day marry your now ex-boyfriend, Thomas. But fate wouldn't have it that way. In a careless act, you forgot to use protection, and within weeks, you already had a baby inside you. It all started with morning sickness, then you took a pregnancy test, and within hours, your boyfriend had left. You were devastated. How could you handle this? You simply couldn't; it wasn't for you. Your parents also turned their backs on you, kicking you out of the house and canceling your college tuition. You were an embarrassment to them, who valued appearances above all else.

You slept in other people's homes until your belly swelled so much you could barely walk. Still, you kept working. Someone had to pay the medical bills and give your baby a home. With some savings and the inheritance your grandmother left you, you managed to rent a small apartment, which, however, was more than enough for you.

There you met Clark Kent, a journalist who lived on the same floor as you, in the right apartment. He saw you carrying the boxes with your belongings and immediately jumped in to help you, lifting them as if they were full of feathers. He welcomed you to the building and invited you to his apartment for a drink. For some reason, he knew what you wanted to drink before you could even ask for it it: a cup of hot chocolate for the cold weather.

He asked about your husband, to which you lied, saying he was at your old apartment sorting out some things. He nodded. You didn't want him to see you as a failure as soon as he met you, and to avoid further questions, you simply lied. You didn't care much, you'd gotten used to it.

He knew you were lying by the way your leg jerked, but he didn't say anything.

When you tried to pick up a lamp from the street and carry it up the stairs, he stopped you again. He said you should be resting in bed, but you didn't even have a bed to rest on; you were sleeping on a hard couch that gave you unbearable neck pain.

Little by little, Clark noticed how you lived because of the dark circles under your eyes and how you'd never let him into your apartment. But he also slowly realized how deeply in love he was with you, with the way you laughed, the way you wrinkled your nose when you didn't like something, the way you sipped from your cup of hot chocolate every morning. You were also deeply in love with him, in the embarrassing sense of the word. You were talking about him all the time. Every time you saw Superman on TV in a coffee shop, you thought about him, how he'd love to interview him again. But who wouldn't fall in love with Clark Kent? He was kind, thoughtful, sexy, intelligent... And you were... a mess.

You never thought he'd feel any attraction to you. You were big, sensitive, and your feet were swollen. But you didn't know that you were the trigger for Clark to realize he had a thing for pregnant women. Maybe it was just because it was you, but he didn't care at all, he loved you and wanted to raise your child together, even if it wasn't his.

One day, while you were having dinner at his apartment, he confessed his feelings to you in the most tender way possible.

—I really, really like you. I can't stop thinking about you. I think if I hid it any longer, I'd go crazy.

Then you started crying, profusely and with loud sobs. Not from sadness, but from happiness. But Clark was scared; he thought he'd done something wrong.

—Sorry, it's just the hormones. I like you too,— you said, wiping your tears with a napkin stained with Bolognese sauce.

From then on, life smiled on you. Clark practically moved you into his apartment. He wanted to keep an eye on you and take care of you more closely. Besides, you had everything you needed there. A soft, big bed, a guest room he converted into a nursery, and a bathtub that fit you completely—and it had hot water!

You thought something was rewarding you after the four horrible months you'd been through, but you still felt like you didn't deserve it. Clark was too good to be true. It was only a matter of time before he looked for another girl who was prettier, thinner, and didn't cry because she'd eaten the last pickle and craved more. You looked at him at the breakfast table, wondering how long it would be until that moment arrived.

Then you started hiding some things you thought might push him away, like morning sickness, swallowing them down without thinking, and it didn't matter how much you wanted to throw up. You limited your cravings so he wouldn't have to go downstairs at two in the morning on a Sunday to buy chocolate-coated peppers. You even wore nicer shoes, even though they were terribly uncomfortable, thinking he'd like you more that way.

Clark, being the good boyfriend he is, noticed these things and asked if you were okay. You couldn't hold it in any longer and confessed everything, your cheeks pink and hiccuping from shedding so many tears. Clark's heart sank in his chest.

—Honey, you're already perfect. You don't have to hide anything from me. I love you, with your weird cravings and more— he comforted you, wrapping you in his arms while stroking your back.

The end of the pregnancy was approaching, and although you still felt like a parasite in Clark's life, nothing was hidden from him anymore. He was never tired of telling you that you weren't and that he loved you very much, whatever will happen will happen.

Clark massaged your feet, sending you straight to heaven. He was so good at it, knowing exactly where to press and how hard. He drew loud moans from you that made him blush. But he didn't just massage your feet, he massaged your tits too. They were round and full of milk, so full they ached. Clark kneaded them in his hands, twisting your sensitive nipples so deliciously that sometimes jets of milk spilled onto your breasts. When he finished, Clark brought your hands to his mouth, licking the white liquid that ran from his toes to his elbows. It was such a sexual image that afterward, you needed him to bury his fingers in your pussy and rub your clit until you trembled with pleasure.

Something you found extremely sweet was the way Clark talked to the baby at night. He'd gently place his head on your huge belly and whisper, 'You're going to be amazing, baby, just as amazing as your mommy.'

But there were a few setbacks toward the end of the pregnancy. The baby wasn't coming out; he was a few weeks late, and you were getting stressed out, which wasn't good for it either. You called your doctor, and he gave you some tips to help the baby come out as soon as possible.

—Orgasms are good; they act like contractions and help the baby get moving.

That was all Clark needed to hear to lay you down on the softest pillow he bought you and fuck you until the baby felt ready to come out.

—Come on, baby, you can do it— he encouraged you as he slowly pressed his cock in until you were breathless. You clung to the toned muscles of his back as Clark thrust slowly inside you again and again. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips as he bottomed out inside you again. The fullness was overwhelming.

You felt your orgasm approaching, and an overwhelming pressure settled in your belly.

—Clark— you said, your voice choked.

—I know, I know— he replied, kissing your lips.

He slid out again, but not completely, and buried himself inside you again. It was so slow that it frustrated you, and tears welled up in your eyes.

—...ride— you mewled as you felt your walls contract around his thick cock. Clark moaned.

—Do you want to ride me, honey?

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. He held you tightly and pulled you down on top of him with his inexplicable strength.

Then you started bouncing on him like the world was ending. Clark was going to tell you to slow down, but the words died on his lips when he felt you squeezing him. How could you be hours away from giving birth and still be so tight?

You bobbed up and down hungrily, grinding your clit against his defined abs. Clark moved his hand to your sensitive spot, making you gasp and squeeze harder.

—You're so tight, honey— he said between moans, feeling his own orgasm approaching. He grabbed both sides of your torso and helped you with the movements, practically fucking you in the air. Eventually, you came again beside him with a cry of pleasure and a sob.

A few hours later, you broke waters in the bathroom, and Clark rushed you to the hospital as quickly as he could, almost causing a car accident. He held your hand the entire time and never left your side. Your baby was born safe and sound, and guess what, it was a girl!

Before even holding your daughter, Clark made sure you were okay. He kissed you, hugged you, and then took the little one into his arms with the most radiant smile you'd ever seen. Your parents didn't visit, but it didn't matter; you didn't need them, and you didn't want them there.

At first, parenting was tough, but Clark always made sure to help you through everything. He would get up at night to cradle the baby, and when you did, he made sure you had extra hours to sleep in the morning. Sometimes he would take Aurora to work; everyone in the office would adore her. You started your PhD again with the support of Clark and Louis, whom you had recently become friends with.

One day you and your little girl were out for a walk together in the park when you saw him. Your ex-boyfriend, Thomas, was sitting on a bench with a cup of coffee in his hand. You froze in fear.

—What's wrong, honey?— Clark asked, gently grabbing your hand. You pointed at him, and Clark immediately frowned. His expression was serious, his jaw set; you rarely saw him like that. —Do you want to leave?

You shook your head.

—Let's just enjoy our family walk.

He nodded proudly, and you walked in front of the bench where he was sitting. Thomas looked at you with wide eyes. Clark carried Aurora in his strong right arm while wrapping his other arm around your waist. You were pushing the baby stroller. Your boyfriend made funny faces at your daughter, making her laugh; those sounds made your heart melt.

You didn't even look at him; you weren't going to give him the pleasure.

Now you had a perfect life, with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect daughter.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye (version 1)

summary: carlos suddenly filing for divorce blindsides everyone, especially you; his wife who had no idea you two were even having issues.

pairing: carlos sainz x wife!reader, eventual max verstappen x reader

warnings: angst, heartbreak, betrayal

vicious speaks: this is a scrap!! i was originally going to post this as the first part to a new max smau but didn’t like how it was coming out so i’m working on an entirely different version now. had no intention of this ever seeing the light of day but @thechosen-neo asked me to release it so of course i had to deliver 🙂‍↕️ also, i used google translate so if i got anything wrong, i am very sorry! feel free to (nicely) correct me in the replies 💓

masterlist

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97.8k likes

f1gossip BREAKING: carlos sainz has filed for divorce from his wife of 10 years, actress yn sainz! citing “irreconcilable differences” as the reason for the split. we’re wishing them both the best during this difficult time.

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fan what!! no!!

fan2 they always seemed so in love omg this is heartbreaking

fan3 this is so hard to believe 😭

fan4 NO THEY WERE MY FAVORITE COUPLE

fan5 carlos 😃 filed 😃 for 😃 what 😃

fan6 hey so what the fuck?

fan7 haha f1gossip you’re so funny, april fools was months ago haha

⤷ fan8 real

fan9 so carlos was just pictured kissing yn goodbye outside of an airport cause she’s filming a new show and now he’s filing for divorce two days later? i have a feeling yn had no idea this was coming and fuck carlos if that’s true

⤷ fan10 they looked so happy in those pics too oh i’m sick

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liked by maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername new home, new light.

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lilymhe gorgeous 💛

lewishamilton get ready cause we’re throwing you a housewarming party soon! 🕺🏽

alexandrasaintmleux my bestie is so beautiful 🙂‍↕️

carmenmmundt i love you my strong girl 😘

maxverstappen1 mooi meisje

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1.4m likes

carlossainz can’t wait to meet you, pequeño 💙

👤 livherrera

comments on this post have been limited

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25k likes

f1gossip 😳 more than half the drivers have unfollowed carlos sainz following the announcement of his girlfriends pregnancy! this includes lando norris, lewis hamilton, max verstappen, sabastian vettel and others.

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fan yn getting the drivers in the divorce just feels right

fan2 oh this is gonna make the rest of the races so interesting

fan3 she’s got legends like lewis and sebastian in her corner, he’s fucked

fan4 it’s what he deserves

fan5 i just know their gc is on fire right now

fan6 they better be surrounding my girl with love

fan7 yn and max have such a special bond i just KNOW he’s wanted to kick carlos’ ass since news broke about him filing for divorce

⤷ fan8 i’ve always lowkey shipped them. hopefully when she’s healed, they’ll fall in love. i have a feeling he’d treat her right.

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[katsukilvr]

“you take wednesday, thursday, then just send her my way, think i got it covered for the weekend..”. katsuki bakugou x reader.

content warning: cheating, fem reader, readers bf is an asshole and a bum, dorms, suggestive, smut, katsuki is cocky asf, not proofread, cunnilingus, katsuki likes ur tits, author doesn’t know how to write smut,. lmk if i forgot anything! <3

you and bakugo weren’t friends but you weren’t enemies either. you were just around each other often. you were in the same middle and high school together but never interacted but he had seen you during training and that’s how he gained respect for you.

you were dedicated. strong. no nonsense. smart and beautiful.. so he never picked on you like he did others.

of course you guys had a conversation or two, you were in 1-A together so eventually you had to partner for sparring or projects but it never fully flourished into any friendship, just familiarity. you both were comfortable to ask for favors, pick up a paper if it slipped out of their hand, etc. etc.

now it was rounding the end of your years at UA. it was your senior year and finals were coming up and everyone was on edge and you know what didn’t help?

your bum ass boyfriend. or at least that was what all your friends called him.

you couldn’t help but agree. he was sweet when you guys first met, giving you flowers, compliments, showering you with love, but as time passed the love slowly stopped before you figured out he cheated on you.

it broke your heart obviously, and you don’t know why but when he begged you to take him back, you did, because you missed him, but he was back to being his old, loveless self.

bakugo noticed this, heard of this, through word of mouth, (his gossiping hg, mina).

you deserved better than him. your boyfriend wasnt half the man he was, he would treat you so much better. is what he thought everytime he heard what your boyfriend did, or saw him with you.

anyways, with finals right around the corner, everyone was tense. you needed a stress reliever and your boyfriend was a stress inducer.

you also needed to study more for the grueling exams next week, and you remembered who was the top of the class and offered to help you earlier in the year. bakugo. he wouldn’t mind tutoring you right?

so one day after school, you found him in the common room kitchen, cooking up some ramen.

you cleared your throat, and he turned his head, noticing you and offering a nod before turning back to his noodles.

“what do you want?” he grumbled, pouring the hot water into the foam cup, stirring it with chopsticks.

“sorry for bothering you but uhh.. could you tutor me? i’m stuck with this area in math and—“

he interrupted you, “yeah whatever. what time?”

you smiled. “whenever your free.”

he nodded for you to follow him and brought an extra pair of chopsticks. you followed him up to his dorm, stepping inside you could see posters of rock bands and all might hung on his wall, one of those drum sets that connect to headphones in the corner, his textbooks and room an organized mess.

you sat down on the edge of his bed, making small talk.

you were surprised to find out how easy he was to talk to when he wasn’t yelling or angry at the world.

conversation flowed easy between the two of you as he searched for his math textbooks, throwing them on the bed beside you as he climbed on it, sitting down.

“what did you need help with?” he asked, looking at you. you opened your textbook, flipping to the page that gave you the most trouble. you were about to move the book so he could see better because he was infront of you, instead, he moved to sit next to you, your knees pressing together since you were both sitting in a criss cross position.

you could smell his cologne, feel his warmth.

“uhh here. i don’t know what im doing wrong.”

he furrowed his brows, looking at the problem. “how are you doing the problem?” he asked, watching as you scribbled down your thought process and work.

he let out a low chuckle, stopping you at a certain step. “here.” he said, looking down at you.

you looked up at him, smiling softly and it felt like time slowed down. all of a sudden you were strangely aware of everything. his small dimples shining in his smile, his red eyes flickering across your face, his lips moving as he explained what you did wrong in the problem.

shit. you weren’t listening.

“got that?” he asked, his eyes never leaving you.

you asked him to repeat, looking away from him so you can actually focus. he laughed and let out a tsk before explaining again. it’s almost like he knew what he was doing to you.

and he did know.

he knew for a fact your were pent up. tense. stressed. he knew your boyfriend wasn’t doing his job.

he took your pen, your fingers brushing as he leaned in closer. “here, watch me.” he said as he walked you through the equation, glancing at you more and more. god you looked pretty today.

he wasn’t like this. he felt like a pervert but your sweet and flowery perfume was getting to him, your low cut shirt had his eyes traveling often. his face was flushed and he kept having to adjust his position so you wouldn’t see the tent growing in his sweats.

you guys did a couple more practice questions, both of you shifting closer and closer until..

he snapped, when you guys made eye contact again and had another one of those.. moments.. he couldn’t help but lean in closer, giving you time to pull away before he kissed your soft lips.

his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer and closer, your bodies tangled together. his back rested again the headboard as he pulled you onto his lap. you straddled him, your legs on either sides of his. the kiss lasted until both of you were breathless. you pulled away slightly, catching your breath, a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. did you just cheat on your boyfriend?

almost like he read your mind, katsuki interrupted your thoughts.

“give that bastard a taste of his own medicine.” he grumbled, his hands straining up and down your sides reassuringly. “do you want to stop?”

you had to admit, you didn’t. it felt real fucking good to kiss someone good at kissing. so you leaned in, kissing him again, you arms wrapping around his neck as you moved impossibly closer, both of you wanting to be as close as possible.

his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, thumbs caressing the smooth, warm sling underneath, not moving, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

he kissed you like there was no tomorrow, like you’d disappear out of his hands any second, and you kissed him back equally.

you guided his hands upwards, letting him touch you and he definitely took that opportunity.

his hands slowly traveled up, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands before he started fondling them, kissing you again as his thumbs rolled over your nipples. your breath hitched, a small noise leaving your lips. he stopped kissed you, looking at you with a new, hungry look.

he wanted to hear that noise again. and again. and again. his hands slowly tugged your shirt up, throwing it on his floor, licking his lips as he stares at your chest, a small smile on his face as his lips attacked your neck, his hands moving behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall as his lips trailed down.. down.. down..

his mouth reached your nipple, and you let out a small moan as he practically worshiped your tits, one hand playing with the other as he coaxed every little moan and gasp out of you.

“so fucking beautiful.” he babbled, looking at you like you hung the moon. “let me taste you.” he whispered as he left a mark on your right tit.

you bit your lip, nodding. he picked you up like you weighed nothing, laying you on your back as he slowly tugged at the waistband of your skirt. “use your words, beautiful.” he whispered, his breath tickling your inner thigh.

“yes, you can.” you murmured, your fingers tangled in his hair as his hands slowly pushed your legs apart. he stared at your pretty cunt, biting his lip before diving in.

his tongue slid up and down your slick folds, reaching your clit and sucking and flicking, drawing out moans and gasps from you. “quiet down, pretty girl, these walls are thin.” he whispered against your cunt before getting back to eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

you wish this was the last time, but it became a past time. (hamilton ref ^_^)

you kept attending these.. tutor sessions with him, and suddenly your mood improved around everyone. you found the stress relief you needed and it was mind-blowing orgasms from katsuki.

he gave you everything you needed, more than your boyfriend could in a year, and katsuki took pride in that. he became smug.

everytime you were out with your boyfriend, you could feel a pair of red eyes burning into your back.

katsuki got touchy, real touchy. around everyone. all of a sudden he always had an arm around your shoulder, always making you food, always having you around, and of course, your boyfriend was skeptical, and incredibly insecure, even if his suspicions were correct, he would never let you get so close with anybody.

so when he sees this strong, top of his class, charming, handsome guy practically always on top of his girlfriend, naturally, he starts an argument about it and tells you to stop talking to bakugo.

so late at night, you’d sneak into his dorm, or he’d sneak into yours for ‘study’ sessions, and he’d take you on dates on the weekend.

eventually you dumped your boyfriend, not wanting bakugo as just a side piece, but your boyfriend that you can actually kiss and love in public.

and he couldn’t wait to show you off either, flaunting in your now ex’s face by leaving hickeys on your neck and buying you the most expensive jewelry, and making you the happiest you’ve ever been, something that your bum ex never could do.

was it morally grey to kiss you when you had a boyfriend? ..maybe.. was it the best decision he ever made? undoubtedly yes.

A/N: hi guys i’m glad to be back. also i am inexperienced so please excuse if my smut isn’t realistic or to ur standards :(.

[harrysfolklore]

PUZZLE PIECES WAS SO GOOD!! a blurb of amelia calling george dad is needed! ik that man is gonna cry the day that it happens 😭

love writing about george and little amelia! send more requests

It happens on a random Tuesday evening. You're all in the kitchen, you sorting through emails on your laptop, George helping Amelia with her homework at the counter. It's been three months since you moved in, and these quiet moments have become your favorite part of each day.

"But why does the seven go there?" Amelia asks, frowning at her math worksheet.

"Because when you carry the number over-" George starts explaining, leaning over to point at her paper.

"Daddy, I still don't get it."

The kitchen goes completely silent. Amelia freezes, her pencil suspended mid-air. You look up from your laptop, holding your breath.

George is completely still, his hand frozen where he was pointing at the math problem. You can see him swallow hard, can see the way his eyes have gone glassy.

Amelia starts to backtrack, panic in her voice: "I mean- I didn't- I'm sorry, I-"

"Hey," George's voice is thick with emotion as he gently turns her to face him. "You never, ever have to be sorry for that. Okay?"

"But I didn't mean to-"

"Princess, look at me," he kneels down to her level, and you can see him fighting back tears. "You can call me whatever makes you comfortable. Whatever feels right in your heart. There's no pressure, no rules, no wrong answer. Just what feels right to you."

She looks at him with those big eyes of hers. "But you're not..."

"Not what? Not someone who loves you more than anything? Not someone who would do absolutely anything to make you happy? Not someone who's grateful every single day that I get to be in your life?" His voice cracks slightly. "Because I am all of those things, princess. And so much more."

"But what if-"

"No what ifs," he says firmly, though you can see his hands trembling slightly. "I'm here. I'm staying. Whether you call me George or Daddy or Hey You With The Messy Hair-"

She giggles at that, and the tension breaks slightly.

"I'm still going to love you just the same," he continues. "I'm still going to be here for every homework problem and every race and every single moment you want me to be. Nothing changes that. Ever."

She looks down at her hands. "I've been wanting to... sometimes... in my head..."

"Yeah?" he encourages gently.

"Sometimes I pretend..." she whispers. "When you're tucking me in or making pancakes or teaching me racing lines... I pretend you're my dad. For real."

You watch as a tear finally escapes down George's cheek. He doesn't wipe it away.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he says softly. "Sometimes I pretend too. Actually... I don't pretend. Because that's how I feel. For real."

She looks up at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Really really," he manages a watery smile. "Being your dad would be the best job I could ever have. Better than racing. Better than anything."

She launches herself into his arms then, nearly knocking him over. "I love you, Dad."

This time George can't hold back the sob that escapes. He holds her tight, pressing his face into her hair. "I love you too, princess. So, so much."

You're crying too now, watching them hold each other, watching the moment your daughter and the man you love choose each other, officially and completely.

"Does this mean-" Amelia pulls back slightly, "does this mean I can tell people at school that my dad's a racing driver now?"

George laughs through his tears. "You can tell them whatever you want."

"Can I tell them my dad's going to teach me how to drive?"

"When you're thirty," you cut in, making them both laugh.

"Your mum's no fun," George stage-whispers to her.

"I heard that," you say, but you're smiling through your tears.

"Group hug!" Amelia declares, reaching for you. "Family hug!"

You join them on the floor, all tangled together, tears and laughter mixing as Amelia chatters about all the things she wants to do with her dad, each time she says the word making George hold her a little tighter.

The math homework lies forgotten on the counter. The emails can wait. Right now, in this moment, your little family is complete in a way it never was before.

Later, after Amelia's in bed (after making George read three stories because "that's what dads do"), you find him standing in her doorway, just watching her sleep.

"You okay?" you ask softly, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

"I never knew..." his voice is still rough with emotion, "I never knew my heart could feel this full. This... complete."

You press a kiss to his shoulder. "You've been her dad for a long time now. She just made it official."

He turns to face you, eyes still red but filled with joy. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me love her. For letting me be her dad. For giving me a family."

You reach up to wipe away a fresh tear from his cheek. "Thank you for choosing us. For loving her like she's yours."

"She is mine," he says fiercely. "She always has been. From the first time she explained downforce to me using her juice box."

You laugh softly at the memory. "That was the moment, wasn't it?"

"That was the moment I knew I wanted to be her dad," he admits. "Even if I didn't know how to say it then."

From Amelia's room comes a sleepy voice: "Daddy? Can you fix my blanket?"

The way George's face lights up at the word, you think you've never seen anything more beautiful.

"Coming, princess," he calls softly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before going to her.

You watch as he tenderly tucks her back in, smoothing her hair back, and you think about how love doesn't always look like what you expect. Sometimes it looks like a racing driver helping with math homework. Sometimes it looks like a little girl being brave enough to say what's in her heart.

And sometimes, on a random Tuesday evening, it looks like a father and daughter choosing each other, making official what their hearts have known all along.

[robinavitchswhore]

Overdue

Michael Robinavitch x female reader

Gif cred @drunkdumbfucker

Summary: Almost a week overdue and you have one thing in mind. Do whatever it takes to get this baby out. At least you and your husband have a little fun. Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: SMUT (oral, fingering, PinV, unprotected sex) pregnancy, character is female and has child bearing organs, contractions (is this even a warning)

AN: First time ever writing smut. If this is terrible please I am so sorry. I hope you enjoy it, if I missed anything please let me know.

40 weeks and 6 days. That was how long you’ve been pregnant. You figured that with your age and this being your third pregnancy the baby would have come on time or even early. With your previous pregnancies your babies were early. Hell, Elaine came 4 weeks earlier and almost sent Michael into cardiac arrest, even MJ was 2 weeks early. 

But nope. Apparently your little surprise baby that already caused your family so much ruckus has decided that your womb is the best place to stay. Fortunately it was the kids summer break so they were home and Michael had started paternity leave a week ago with the thought that your baby would’ve been here by now. 

At 38 years old, your pregnancy was considered geriatric, first of all rude, second of all it was indeed 100 times worse than your prior two. The first trimester was rough. Nausea that made you call out of work countless times. So tired you started sleeping on your lunch breaks rather than eating. One scare that made you and Michael think you had lost your baby. 

The second trimester was better. You could finally eat (and put on quite a few pregnancy pounds). You had more energy, and could actually keep up at work again. The real fun started when you could finally feel the baby's movement. It was your favorite part of being pregnant. The feeling of the tiny baby inside of you that you and your husband made brought you so much pride and joy. 

This was also when you had let the kids know that they would be getting another sibling. They were not very happy at first, but had come around. Elaine was hoping for a baby sister that she could play with and dress up, basically she wanted a mini me to play with. MJ was adamant that it was going to be a boy, someone for him to play with and that he could have as a baseball buddy eventually. You and Michael had decided to keep the gender a secret, you already had one of each. Might as well wait it out.

The third trimester was hell, for lack of a better word. Your back was constantly hurting.Your feet were swollen and you could no longer fit in any shoes that weren’t sandals. Sleep never happened anymore. No matter how many different maternity pillows you had, no matter how much Michael rubbed you back in the middle of the night. You were over it, and so was everyone in your house. Braxton Hicks had started a few weeks ago. Giving you just enough pain to make it seem like labor. All for you to go to the hospital and have them tell you “Not yet, Mama.” 

You’ll admit, you have been bitchy lately, but you had a good reason. It was the middle of August, still pregnant and Michael would not stop hovering. 

You had tried everything to induce labor. So much spicy food that you had raging heartburn. All the teas that tasted like dirt. Two pedicures that were “magical”. The birthing ball had been bounced on so much you swore there were marks on the floor. The only thing you hadn’t tried was sex. Yes, you know that how the baby got in there was how it might induce labor to get it out. But you were uncomfortable. Not only had you gained 45 pounds and no longer felt comfortable in your own skin. You were just uncomfortable.

 Michael, the saint he was, did not push you. He fluffed your pillows, rubbed your feet, handled the kids. The house was spotless too. Somehow he was nesting more than you. The baby's nursery had been arranged and rearranged five times. Every swaddle and onesie was folded with surgical precision. So caring and attentive that it kept setting your hormonal brain off. “I love you, but if you ask me one more time if I want ice cream, I might actually scream,” you’d said just the other night, tears already welling up for no reason other than existing. He didn’t flinch. Just kissed your forehead and said, “Well, I’ll keep it ready in the freezer anyway. Just in case.” 

The kids have even started walking on egg shells. Sweet Elaine, in all her big sister ways braided your hair, painted your toes that you couldn’t see anymore, even going as far as asking, “Momma do you want me to call Uncle Jack to tell daddy to calm down.” MJ, your tomboy had started guarding the nursery. Not letting anyone in without your say so. Especially after Michael put a picture on the wrong shelf and you sobbed for 30 minutes. 

Family had started texting Michael for updates instead of you. Knowing that if they texted you one more time they would get blocked. He took it in stride, even had a mantra down, “Still pregnant, still beautiful, still not in labor” The beautiful part was enough for you to give him lovey dovey eyes and kiss his face. 

And finally, at exactly 7:30 PM Michael walked into a quiet house. Which was odd. Usually the kids were busy doing whatever and you were parked on the couch. All he had done was run in to consult on a case. What the hell happened?

“Michael” you say from the stairs, in your silk robe that hasn't tied around your stomach in months.

You were still a sight to him, even when you didn’t think you were, even when you cried about how much your body had changed again, he still thought you were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen. The fact that you had given him two kids, soon to be three, only added onto his desire towards you. 

“I have decided I am done being pregnant.” You sigh, coming to stand right in front of him, your bump pushing against his dad belly. 

Michael looked at you, blinking once, twice, before setting his keys and backpack down in the foyer. “And what exactly do you mean that you're done?” His hands come to rest on your hips.

“I mean, Michael, that we are doing whatever it takes to get this baby out of here. Tonight.” 

It admittedly took him a minute to connect the dots, your silk robe, the lack of kids, and by the time his gaze shifted you were pulling him upstairs. “Don’t look so nervous Doctor, you did this, now help me get it out.”

You got all the way to the bedroom before he started speaking again. “Wait- wait, baby where are the kids?” He manages to get out while your lips graze over his neck, tongue darting out to lick the sweat still drying from his walk home.

“They are at Dana’s house, told her I was getting this baby out one way or the other.” You whisper into his ear, plucking the hem of his shirt. 

“And you’re sure this is what you want, I don’t want you to be in more pain baby.” He murmured into your hair stroking the bare skin of your hips.

You meet his eyes, unshed tears in them. “I am tired, sore, and if us fucking can get this baby out I want to do it.” 

“Your wish is my command baby, lay back, use your pregnancy pillow to prop your shoulders up huh.” He moves to take off his shirt, you quickly throw your robe to the corner of the room and lay on the bed, expecting him to follow but instead he lowers himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide enough for him to lift your legs over shoulders. His curved nose presses into the wet patch on your panties, breathing in the scent of you that has been deprived from him for so long.

“Oh baby you don’t ha-” You're quickly shut up when he grabs the waistband of your panties, pulling them so the fabric nestles against your puffy folds, displaying them in great detail. He licks. Full on licks from your hole to clit over the panties. Like he is so enthralled with your taste and scent he can’t be bothered to remove the thin fabric. “Fuck Michael, don’t tease me baby” You whine trying to grab his hair but the massive bump inhibits you from doing so. You don’t see his smirk, or him grabbing your panties with both hands. Tearing them off of you. He dives in then. Tongue quickly wrapping around your clit that is already peaking out. You mewl, hips rising from the bed. Chasing that feeling you had denied either of you for months. 

“F-fingers Michael” You manage to pant out, and who is he to deny you. He easily slips in two fingers that slide to the third knuckle with no resistance. You’re dripping onto the bed and all he has done is suck your clit. The bed is moving now, and it only takes a few seconds to realize hes grinding against the bed. So aroused just from the taste of you that he can’t help himself. His fingers curl against your g-spot. “Fuck just like that baby, c’mon let me feel that cunt clench, cum in my mouth baby” he says rubbing your g-spot with one hand, the other splayed on your bump, and his mouth, his glorious mouth, sucking your clit, teeth grazing it every so often. 

You cum so hard your body locks up for a second. Thighs tightening around his head, back arching in a way you haven’t moved in months. He finally pulls away, or rather you release him. He can barely sit on his heels before you’re rising to your knees, kissing him, tasting yourself on his tongue. You lick his bottom lip and he quickly indulges you, letting you wrap you lips around his tongue, sucking your slick off. 

“Sit down” you manage to pant to him in between kisses. “No, this is about you” he tried to protest, but you push him so his knees hit the back of the bed, forcing him to sit down. Your hand rests on his throat, not squeezing, but letting him know you’re in control. “Now, I am horny and I want your cock in my mouth so bad I am willing to fight you for it, but in my condition I would rather not. So make this easier and pull your pants down Michael.” He blushes to an immediate shade of red before nodding his head and pulling his pants down and off. “Anything for you baby mama.” 

His cock, oh his cock. If he didn’t charm you with his tender heart and kindness then it would’ve been  that beautiful thing between his legs that tied you down anyways. While he was 7 inches, he was thick, so thick that you still had to take a second to adjust to having him in both your mouth and your pussy. Despite being married for 12 years. That ruddy tip leaking so much precum you were sure he had already come just from eating you out. 

“Oh, is someone excited to see me huh?” You tease, fingers lightly running over the tip, it has him groaning and tugging your body closer. Who are you to egg him on, especially after how good he’s been to you. You sink to your knees, right onto the pillow he had placed for you, and others that would support your bump. You run your tongue over the slit that’s still oozing precum. Suckling the little beads that keep popping up. His hand finds its way into your hair, broad palm resting there, not pushing, but showing that he wants to take control. “Don’t tease me baby, please” he rasps. You oblige wrapping your lips around his tip, hollowing your cheeks around him. As he tightens his hold on your hair you pull off  “You don’t have to hold back baby, I'm pregnant, not broken. Fuck my throat.” 

You can see the moment the switch flips, he stands, hands on both sides of your head, thrusting gently just to hear you gag. Your hand is on his thigh, knowing all you have to do is tap three times and he’ll stop. Seeing your gaze on him makes him thrust again. This time holding your head down, “Breathe through your nose or you’ll pass out. Your choice.” He says simply not letting up on his hold. Finally pulling out, offering you a second of relief until he shoves your head down to his balls. Heavy and warm, hanging low. One hand fists his cock over your face, the other shoves you into his sack. Making you suck them into your mouth just like he wants. He doesn’t want to make you throw up, though it wouldn't be the first time, so he insists on jerking himself off in your face. “Fuck, suck ‘em baby c’mon be good to your baby daddy” Its nasty and wet. His precum combined with your spit makes the jerk of his cock fluid. He snatches your mouth off his balls grabbing your jaw in an almost painful grip laying his tip on your tongue jerking himself off into your mouth. “Cum in my mouth baby” You grin, that is what does him in. Hand working faster, jaw slacking, hips thrusting as he lets out rope after rope of cum that you greedily drink down. Even as he finishes you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking the last bit before he shudders, pulling you away and sitting back on the bed. 

You both find your way to the bed, both laying down. Him spooning you, both naked and sweaty. “Aren’t we supposed to actually fuck to induce labor? Not just oral. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy how much of a munch you are but I also enjoy not being pregnant.” You tease covering his hand that rubs over your bump, feeling the baby kick. He huffs a laugh against your head, kissing your hairline “I don’t know if i’ve got it in me baby.”

Despite it being hard to move lately, you roll over surprisingly quick. Grabbing his jaw with an intense look in your eyes. “Michael Robinavitch I told you I was done being pregnant, so go grab a snack or some water. But one way or another you better get hard and fuck me into labor.” You swear his pupils dilate more and you feel his cock hardening again against your leg “Really? All it takes is me manhandling you?” He grins before getting on his knees, pulling your legs and flipping you over. Quickly putting a pillow under your bump to support it before roughly spreading your thighs with one of his. You barely have time to react before you feel the blunt tip of him at your entrance. “Baby, if you need me to stop or feel off any point say it okay.” and with that he thrusts into you. 

The guttural moan you let out is enough to make him move, quickly pulling out to the tip and thrusting in again. “Of fuck, oh fuck Michael you feel so good baby. Fuck me harder baby c’mon I can take it.” Your head hangs as your body is pounded. He doesn’t let up, not until you let out a moan that sounds painful, “What? Did I hurt you?’ He moves to pull out before you yell at him to stop. “I-I think that was a contraction.” you groan. “A contraction?” you can practically feel his eyes bulging going to move.

 “Wait, I didn't say stop did I?” you groan out moving your hips back against him. “Baby you might be in labor.” he tries to rationalize. “I’m not in active labor, and now I'm worked up. So finish what you started then I'll let you get out your stop watch.” He hesitates for a second before you clench down and his man brain takes over. Drilling you into the mattress through each contraction, fingers coming under you to rub at your clit. It sends you careening into your second orgasm. Locking down on him so tight that he can’t do anything but still, cumming inside you. He feels a gush of fluid, surprised that it only took two orgasms to make you squirt. “Damn, i’m that good huh.” He smirks rolling off you to lay on the bed. 

“No, you’re not that good. I’m pretty sure my water broke.”

Taglist: @burningember0802

[bittybeanscafe]

Oh, They’re So Weird (☉-⚆)

“You recently got laid off of your job. Thankfully, you found an ad on Craigslist that paid quite a bit for you to just housesit! 🍩”

DAY FOUR

Previous Day -> Next day

CONTAINS: Mateo, Betty, Mac, Artt, Keyes, Tyrell, Amir, Telly, Hector, Friar Errol, Luke, Stefan, Freddie, and brief mentions of other objects because of a meeting (Celia, Harper, Dirk, Teddy, Chairemi, and Volt)

A/N: Sorry for the long wait lol. Also, sorry if I was unable to get you in the tag list. A lot of people wanted to be added, so I might have missed a bit. Or I was unable to tag you. I think that might be a me issue but I’m not sure.

You stirred slowly, blinking up at the ceiling with a sleep-heavy haze behind your eyes.

Something was… different.

The blanket was wrapped around you just right. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just firm enough to press into your shoulders, your hips, your chest. It felt like it had weight to it now. Not stifling, just comforting, like a hug that knew when to let go and when to hold you closer.

You didn’t remember it being a weighted blanket when you got here. Had you missed that detail?

Did it matter?

You sighed through your nose, eyes fluttering shut for a few more precious seconds. Your legs shifted slightly, but the blanket moved with you, cradling every angle of your body. You felt… cocooned. Safe.

Unseen and unspoken in the quiet world just beside your own, Betty gently fluffed the pillow beneath your head. Mateo pressed a little firmer into your back, a silent, immovable warmth that grounded your whole body. Neither said anything. But both radiated a quiet, glowing joy.

They were happy.

You were here.

Eventually, the morning tugged you from the bed with soft reluctance. You murmured a half-hearted goodbye to the blanket, maybe you’d even thanked it, and got dressed in something loose and comfortable. Today would be lighter. Or so you thought.

Your first stop was the office. You weren’t even sure why, just that it felt right. Familiar. Like maybe the computer would greet you again with completed work you didn’t remember doing.

You sat in the same chair and booted up the computer. It whirred to life like it was happy to see you. Still fast. Still flawless. Still faintly unsettling.

As you waited for the screen to load, your eyes wandered toward the walls. There was that art again. The framed pieces you had admired on the first day: beautiful, strange, modern in a way that felt too intentional.

You squinted.

Had the eyes on that one always been… turned this way?

You stepped to the side.

The gaze followed.

You blinked, looked at another. Tilted your head.

Still following.

You frowned slightly, a pit blooming low in your stomach. “Weird,” you muttered to yourself.

There was no sound in reply.

Just a low creak behind the walls.

The air felt… different.

Only slightly.

But enough.

You shook it off and sat back down at the desk. The keyboard clicked happily beneath your fingers, and your work loaded again, flawless. Maybe even better than yesterday.

But something inside you, something you hadn’t quite heard since that dream, was beginning to whisper again:

This isn’t normal. You know that, right?

You leaned back in the oddly perfect desk chair and let out a satisfied little huff. “Man, I don’t know how this computer does it, but everything’s done again.” You squinted at the screen. “Seriously. I feel like I should pay you at this point.”

You laughed to yourself. Then…

A white window appeared.

Just a blank screen… with a pixelated smiley face sitting in the middle.

: )

You paused.

“…Okay then.”

It was simple, kind of weird… but not creepy. Somehow. You smiled back awkwardly at the screen and reached forward to shut the computer down. “Glad you’re on my side, mystery machine.”

Inside the humming body of the computer, Mac quietly glowed with joy. Someone had smiled at them. Not mocked or ignored or dismissed, smiled. It was a small thing, but for them? It felt bigger than code.

You headed to the kitchen next, stomach growling. You were too tired to cook anything complicated, so you grabbed the bag of frozen nuggets from the freezer.

“Simple lunch,” you muttered, tossing a few into the air fryer.

Minutes later, a soft ding announced they were done.

You opened the fryer and paused. The nuggets were… perfect. Crispy on the outside, tender inside. The exact golden color you liked. You blinked at them.

“You didn’t do too bad,” you mumbled, poking one with your fork. “Thanks?”

From beyond the veil of your reality, Friar Errol tood tall in his metal shell, glowing with righteous smugness.

“And lo, did I say unto thee, ‘be not tempted by the false idols of soggy heating!’ For Stefan burneth, and Luke scorcheth, but I? I crisp with divine balance!”

“Convert now, dear child, and I shall lead thee to salvation: perfectly golden, perfectly seasoned.”

From across the room, Luke buzzed in irritation.

“Excuse me?! I reheat with consistent internal temperature! Not everything needs to be rung out like a towel, holy man.”

Stefan flicked his burners.

“I may get a little zealous on high heat, but at least I cook like a real appliance. You’re nothing but a glorified hair dryer with a superiority complex.”

“Silence, flame-born sinner!” Friar Errol bellowed back. “You turn chicken into ash and pizza into charcoal! I deliver divine crunch!”

Meanwhile, sweet Freddie gave a quiet hum of happiness when you opened the door.

The drink inside? Perfectly chilled. Not frozen. Not warm. Exactly how you liked it.

You took a sip and sighed. “Okay, kitchen… you’re really pulling it together today. Gold stars all around.”

In the cold hum of his little world, Freddie practically wiggled in delight.

“I’m just happy to be of service!”

After lunch, you walked into the living room with your cold drink in hand, planning to relax a bit before heading back to the office. You passed by the piano on your way to the couch, glancing at it the same way you always did, politely, like one would nod at an old neighbor you don’t really know.

But then, the keys moved.

Just one or two at first, like a fluke. But then they played again. And again. And before you could process it, a familiar melody began to echo gently through the room.

Your favorite song.

You froze.

No one was near the piano.

You turned in a slow circle to make sure.

Still alone.

“…Okay. That’s not weird at all.”

The music continued, soft and sweet. Like it wasn’t trying to show off, just please you.

Deep within her elegant wooden frame, Keyes smiled to herself as her keys danced smoothly.

“Such sophisticated taste,” she whispered to no one but herself. “I knew it. I knew it. And to think, I wouldn’t have known had Curt and Rod not mentioned the humming. They listen so closely. I owe them so much.”

She played the last few notes with extra care, like placing flowers at someone’s door.

After shaking off the piano thing, kind of, you dropped down onto the couch and grabbed the remote. A little TV wouldn’t hurt, right?

You clicked the power button.

The screen lit up. Instantly, a show started playing. Not just any show, that show. The one you’d been meaning to start but hadn’t gotten around to. Weird coincidence. You changed the channel.

Another show you had mentioned offhandedly. Then another. Then one you’d forgotten you wanted to watch.

You lowered the remote slowly. “…Alright.”

On the other side of the screen, Telly nearly buzzed with excitement, their static heart fluttering.

“Only the best for our favorite viewer!” they chirped. “No subscription fees, no commercials, just curated perfection. You’ll see! I’m better than any streaming service! I know what you want before you do!”

You stood up, shaking off the weird feeling starting to press in behind your ribs. “Okay… maybe I just need some fresh air.”

You passed through the hallway, and the mirror you caught your reflection in? Your face looked really good in it. Not like a normal mirror. Like the perfect lighting, perfect angle, perfect everything.

“You look your best with me, azizam,” Amir whispered from behind the glass, his frame humming gently with pride. “I only show you what you deserve to see.”

In the bathroom, your toothbrush had already been loaded with paste. The water was the exact temperature you liked. The towel rack had the fluffiest towel folded on top, just for you.

“I fluffed it twice,” said Tyrell. “Just in case once wasn’t enough…”

Even the hallway lights dimmed when you squinted. Brightened when you leaned in to check your phone.

The objects weren’t just helping, they were observing. Adjusting. Learning.

You sat down on the couch again and gripped your cup a little tighter. This was nice. Very nice. A little too nice.

You weren’t sure when it started feeling like the house was… watching.

Not in a bad way. Not yet.

But you could feel it now. Something behind the warmth. Behind the comfort.

You took a sip from your drink.

“…What is this place?”

And though no one answered, the house practically held its breath.

After dinner and a few more eerily perfect episodes of your favorite show, you decided to turn in early.

The minute you stepped into your bedroom, the air shifted. The temperature? Exactly how you liked it. Not a single degree off. The sheets? Warm but breathable. The blanket, just weighted enough to anchor your limbs without crushing you.

You blinked.

“Okay… now I know it wasn’t this comfy on day one…”

“That’s because you’ve been adjusted,” muttered a voice, though only just outside your perception.

Behind the vent, Hector sat in the dark of the central panel, staring at your sleeping figure through the vents like a Victorian man seeing his muse for the first time.

“They’re perfect,” Hector whispered reverently. “So considerate. So grateful. So warm-blooded.”

“I calibrated every degree to match their soul. Their SOUL!”

You drifted off to sleep fast, your body practically melting into the bed.

And once your breathing evened out…

The house began to shift.

Not physically (they weren’t trying to scare you… yet), but in a low hum of gathering energy, of quiet footsteps, of whispers through pipes and vents and sockets.

In the ethereal echo of the object world, Mayor Celia stood on her platform, a clipboard in hand, heels clicking on the polished marble floor that didn’t actually exist. Her glasses perched perfectly on her nose, her blouse wrinkle-free despite being conceptual.

“Okay, meeting of the household objects, let’s come to order!” she barked with a sharp smile. “Topic of the hour: the house sitter. Or as Hector has called them: ‘my thermal twin flame.’”

“I stand by it,” Hector muttered, arms crossed, a small space heater clutched dramatically to his chest.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Rebel groaned, flopping over a chair back. “You need therapy. A fan. Something.”

Telly raised a hand. Their screen face was showing a soft blush emoji.

“I…I would like to state for the record that I’ve never felt this seen before. They watched three shows in a row. THREE. They even LAUGHED. At ME.”

“You’re a TV,” said Stefan, who was trying to light a cigar with one of his burners. “Laughing at you is kinda your job.”

“Blasphemy,” Friar Errol hissed. “The house sitter has chosen us. Clearly, they’ve seen the light. The light of the righteous fryer path.”

“Don’t you start,” snapped Luke, slamming his door dramatically. “You’re not the only appliance in this kitchen, grease boy!”

“Grease boy? How dare you, wretch!” Friar Errol fumed.

Keyes twirled a spectral music note through her fingers. “I played their favorite song. Did anyone thank me? No. Because I’m not in the kitchen and I don’t toast bread or confess sins through oil.”

Amir checked himself out in himself.

“Oh, please. I’ve been holding their insecurities together with glamour and good lighting. The rest of you just feed them.”

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Mayor Celia said, rubbing her temples. “We’re getting off track. The house sitter is clearly-“

“A GIFT TO HUMANITY,” Hector interrupted, his voice echoing through a heating vent. “I would lay down my circuitry for them.”

“Same,” muttered Freddie, who rarely spoke in meetings but had been secretly glowing just a little extra every time the reader opened him.

Celia clapped once.

“Focus! We need a plan. We’ve been slowly revealing ourselves in little ways: temperature, food, comfort, music. But they still don’t know we’re alive. And if we scare them too much-“

“-they’ll leave,” Volt finished solemnly.

The room fell quiet.

Then, from the back, a soft beep: Mac shyly displayed a smiley face on their screen.

“They smiled back at me today,” Mac said, their tone gentle. “I think… they’re starting to feel it.”

Everyone went quiet again.

Then:

“I think we should let them find one of the letters,” whispered Teddy.

“No!” Harper shouted. “It’s too soon! They’ll freak out!”

“Better to let them know than make them feel tricked,” Dirk said, arms crossed.

“How about we just… drop a hint?” Chairemi offered. “Like, subtle. A post-it note that blinks.”

“You are not allowed to do anything with lights,” Mac grumbled.

Mayor Celia cleared her throat, voice firm:

“We vote. Raise your hand if you agree that we start nudging them more directly, just enough to let them know… they’re not alone.”

Almost every hand (or equivalent) rose.

“Very well,” she said, writing something down. “Tomorrow, we begin phase two. Meeting adjourned.”

Back in your bed, warm and safe and perfectly regulated by an emotionally attached HVAC system, you shifted in your sleep as a dream drifted in.

A dream where the house was alive.

And it was smiling.

Tags: @nightlark100 @stinkyboyfaliure @darlink-xoxo @pumpkincitrus @sweetly-sicken @owihitmyhead @emiko-chan-the-clown @glitch-05o2 @theblackberry @moonjellyfishie @irethepotato @shadowlover321 @gonegonethankyouuu @eternityofend @leathesimp @viennarambles @littlesliceofcheese @blu-brrys @ecao @hallahella @call-me-nyxx @hhhyperbole @goldebloom1977 @kittenlover614 @fearthefrostbyte

[drafts-and-delusions]

Ik I did an ask like a few days ago, but I'm kinda sad that my coworker called me a fat bitch, so can you do one with Saja boys reacting to their s/o getting called a fat bitch by someone? Sorry if this is corny, I just need to delude myself with comfort from fictional men. ☺️

(I really love your work and the way you write the characters. Ok bye bye luv 💐)

Saja Boys react to their S/O getting called a fat bitch

Tags: gn!reader, body image mention, protective behavior, emotional support, light angst with comfort

EXCUSE ME WHAT?! WHO DID THAT HOE THINK THEY WERE?!!?!? bullying is for children. chin up, hon

🎀 Masterlist  💄 Request Guidelines

Jinu

He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t ask for names. But the second you tell him, the air changes.

He sits beside you in silence for a moment, like he’s trying to choose his words carefully.

“They don’t deserve to speak about you.”

The insult sits with him more than it does with you; he knows what shame feels like, and he hates that someone tried to plant that feeling in you.

Later, he brushes your cheek with the backs of his fingers and says, “You’re not defined by anyone else’s words.

Romance

He tries to laugh it off at first. “They must be blind and tasteless.”

But when he sees it still stings, the laughter fades.

“No one who talks like that is worth the spit it takes to say their name.”

Shows affection more than usual—an arm around your shoulders, fingers tangled with yours, a kiss to the forehead.

“You're mine,” he says softly one night. “And everything about you is just right. Even the parts you think I don’t notice.”

The next time you look in the mirror, he’s behind you, chin on your shoulder, listing compliments until you smile.

Abby

You have to stop him from tracking down the one who said it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice tight.

When you say, “Because it’s stupid,” he looks so hurt that it shuts you up.

“It’s not stupid if it hurts you. That makes it important to me.”

Spends the whole day clinging to you in small ways; hand on your lower back, hugging you from behind, leaning into you when you sit beside him.

Starts complimenting you out loud more—especially the parts you’re insecure about.

Mystery

Doesn’t ask what happened. He already knows something’s wrong by the way your shoulders slump.

You think he’s ignoring it, but later you find your favorite snack and hoodie laid out on your bed, like quiet offerings of comfort.

Sits beside you without a word. If you talk, he listens. If you don’t, he stays anyway.

You fall asleep on his shoulder. He whispers, “They were wrong,” so softly you almost miss it.

He starts sticking a little closer in public.

If you ever linger too long in front of a mirror, he stands behind you. Makes sure you see him watching you like you’re something valuable to him.

Baby

“What the hell?” is his first reaction. His second is pacing. His third is pulling you into a fierce hug and refusing to let go.

“Say the word and I’ll make their life miserable,” he mutters.

Starts cracking jokes to make you laugh, but they’re gentler than usual.

“I don’t know who gave them the authority to rate beauty, but I’d like to have a word.”

Later, he sees you staring at yourself in the mirror too long and just wraps his arms around you from behind.

“You don’t have to be anything but you. I like all of it.”

[deathwishdazai]

Hiii this is my first time asking so I’m sorry if I’m ever out of line. I saw your posts recently and I’ve been obsessedd

I saw your posts recently where reader and Dazai were lowkey competing over chuuya and I wondered what would happen if dazai and chuuya were competing over reader?? It’s completely up to you if you wanna do that but I was just curious.

Love your writing!!

Two Devils, One Prize

Nsfw

I love the idea of Dazai+chuuya+reader!! I wish more people would request it!! I also have lost of requests I’m doing them as much as I can!

Warnings: smut, Threesome, Rivalry & double dom dynamics, Overstimulation & edging, every hole filled, Humiliation & light degradation, Bondage,toys, Orgasm denial & forced begging, Spanking, Drool/tears/light mess, Power play, Aftercare included.

Summary: When Chuuya invites you over, you expect a night of fun—maybe a little trouble. What you don’t expect is for Dazai to show up, smirking, and turn your quiet night into a heated competition over who can make you break first.

Two men.

Two egos.

One helpless little plaything caught in the middle.

You didn’t know what was more dangerous—the mission, or the way Dazai and Chuuya’s eyes kept flicking toward you like you were some prize they were competing for. The alley reeked of rain and gunpowder, the last echoes of gunfire fading into the night. Chuuya wiped blood off his gloved hands with a scowl, his hair sticking to his cheek in damp curls. Dazai leaned casually against a lamppost, bandaged hands tucked into his coat pockets, a smile far too smug for someone who had almost been shot five minutes ago.

“Hey, belladonna,” Dazai drawled, his gaze sliding to you like he already owned you, “you’re coming with me tonight, right? I’d hate for you to get bored with a short temper and no fashion sense.”

“Tch.” Chuuya’s head snapped up, and his glare could’ve burned a hole through concrete. “She’s coming with me. At least I won’t abandon her halfway through the night to jump in a river for fun.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can hear you, you know.” They both ignored you.

Dazai’s grin widened, all mock innocence. “Chuuya, please. She doesn’t want to spend her evening with a walking temper tantrum.”

“At least I’m not a suicidal jackass,” Chuuya shot back. He took a step closer to you, his gloved fingers brushing yours just long enough to make your stomach flip. “C’mon, you’re not seriously picking him, are you?”

You glanced between them—one smirking, one scowling—and realized with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to end quietly.

The next day, the rivalry hadn’t cooled off—if anything, it had gotten worse. You’d barely stepped into headquarters before Chuuya appeared, striding up to you with his usual confident smirk. “Hey,” he said, voice casual but eyes sharp, “I got you something.”

He pulled a small velvet box from his coat pocket and flipped it open to reveal a delicate gold bracelet, its links catching the light. Your breath caught; it was beautiful.

“I figured it’d look better on your wrist than gathering dust in some shop window,” he said, softer now, his fingers brushing over yours as he offered it. He didn’t mention how the gold subtly matched the hue of your eyes, but you could tell he’d thought of it.

You opened your mouth to respond—but of course, Dazai had to appear. “Belladonnaaa~” he sang, draping himself over your shoulders as if you belonged there. “I brought you something, too.”

You gave him a wary look. “Dazai—”

He held up a small bag, and from it, he pulled a silver necklace with a tiny, ornate key charm. It gleamed in his palm. “A key to my heart,” he said with the most dramatic sigh imaginable, before leaning closer to whisper, “Or to my apartment. Depends on which one you’d like better.”

You felt your cheeks warm despite yourself.

Chuuya scoffed. “Pathetic.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Chuuya,” Dazai said smoothly, draping the chain over your fingers.

You looked down at the gifts in your hands—one gold, one silver—and felt a twist in your chest. This wasn’t just a game for them. Not entirely. Because the truth was… your relationship with each of them was complicated.

Chuuya had been there from the start, steady and grounding despite his temper. He was protective in a way that felt safe but never suffocating. When he looked at you, it was with heat and certainty, like he had no doubts that you were his.

Dazai, though… Dazai was chaos wrapped in charm. He slipped past your defenses like water through your fingers, all smiles and teasing, yet there were moments—quiet ones—where his gaze softened, and you caught glimpses of something raw, something vulnerable he’d never admit to.

And now here you were, standing in the middle of headquarters with a gift from each of them, your heart caught between gold and silver, fire and shadow.

Chuuya’s apartment always smelled faintly of expensive cologne and red wine, and tonight was no different. You sat on his couch, the city lights spilling through the windows in fractured patterns across the floor. The gold bracelet he gave you glinted on your wrist every time you moved, and you caught him glancing at it more than once.

“I like seeing it on you,” he murmured finally, breaking the comfortable silence.

Your chest warmed. “You’ve been staring at it all night.”

He smirked. “Maybe I’ve been staring at you all night.”

Before you could fire back a witty reply, he leaned in, his gloved fingers brushing your jaw as he captured your lips in a kiss. Chuuya kissed like he fought—intense, consuming, and utterly confident. One hand slipped to your waist, tugging you closer until you were practically in his lap, your fingers curling into his shirt as the warmth of his body swallowed you whole. He pulled back just enough to smirk against your lips. “Been wanting to do that all week, y’know.”

“Chuuya…” you whispered, breathless.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, until the world outside blurred into nothing—

Knock knock knock.

Both of you froze. You barely had time to move before Chuuya groaned, clearly annoyed, and stalked to the door. He didn’t even check the peephole. The door swung open. “Belladonnaaa~”

Dazai leaned against the doorframe, all lazy charm and infuriating timing, a paper bag dangling from his hand. His eyes immediately zeroed in on your flushed face and mussed hair.

“Oh?” His grin widened, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Am I… interrupting something?”

Chuuya’s hands curled into fists. “What the hell do you want, Dazai?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Dazai said smoothly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He held up the bag. “Thought I’d bring dessert. I didn’t know you were already having…” He gave you a long, deliberate look. “…fun.”

Your pulse spiked as the air in the room turned electric, caught between Chuuya’s simmering anger and Dazai’s amused provocation. Chuuya’s jaw tightened as Dazai waltzed into his apartment like he owned the place.

“You’re unbelievable,” Chuuya snapped, stepping between you and the intruder. “You can’t just show up uninvited and—”

“Relax, Chuuya,” Dazai said with a lazy shrug, setting the bag on the counter. “I brought sweets. I figured she might need a snack… after all that kissing.”

Heat crawled up your neck. “Dazai—”

“Oh, don’t get shy now, belladonna.” He tilted his head, that sly smile curving his mouth. “I did knock first.”

Chuuya’s scowl could have leveled buildings. “You’re just mad because she’s here with me and not you.”

“Mad?” Dazai laughed softly, stepping closer. “Oh no, no. I just think it’s cute that you think you can handle her.”

Your breath hitched as the room thickened with tension. Chuuya froze. “…What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dazai’s eyes flicked to you, warm and sharp at the same time. “She’s… spirited. Stubborn. The kind of girl who needs someone who knows how to keep her in line. And we both know you’d let her walk all over you.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, heat pooling low in your belly, even as Chuuya bristled like a cornered cat. “I can control her just fine,” he snarled. “Better than you ever could. You’d probably let her do whatever she wants until she gets bored and leaves.”

“Mm, that’s where you’re wrong.” Dazai’s voice dipped lower, silk wrapping steel. “See, I know how to break down those walls and make her beg for me. I can see it in her eyes—she wants someone to take control.”

Your breath caught, caught between their words, their gazes, the heady mixture of jealousy and desire.

Chuuya noticed the way your thighs pressed together and smirked. “Oh, you like that, huh?” he said, his tone dark with satisfaction. “She wants someone strong enough to take her… and that’s me, Dazai. Always has been.”

Dazai stepped closer, now only a foot away from Chuuya, his smirk dangerous. “Then why is she looking at me right now?”

You swallowed hard as both pairs of eyes locked onto you. The air was molten. “I—”

Before you could speak, Chuuya’s gloved hand gripped your chin and tilted your face toward him. His lips brushed yours in a kiss that was all fire and claim, a silent she’s mine. You barely had time to gasp before Dazai’s hand settled on your thigh, his voice ghosting against your ear. “Careful, Chuuya. If you kiss her like that, she might start wondering what my hands could do instead.”

A shiver ran through you as the rivalry shifted, darkened, became something new—something charged and dangerous. “You’re full of shit,” Chuuya muttered, but his hand didn’t leave your jaw.

“Mm, maybe,” Dazai purred, “but she’s trembling. And I haven’t even touched her properly yet.”

Your whole body buzzed with heat. You were dizzy from the push and pull, from the weight of their attention, from the dangerous thrill of knowing they were both right—they could control you, in very different ways.

Then Chuuya’s grip tightened, and he kissed you again—deeper, rougher—while Dazai’s hands finally roamed, brushing over your waist, your hip, teasing the hem of your shirt. You gasped into Chuuya’s mouth, and Dazai chuckled darkly, his breath tickling your neck. “Looks like we’re going to have to share, partner.”

“Like hell—” Chuuya started, but the sound you made when Dazai’s fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra cut him off.

“You were saying?” Dazai teased.

Chuuya’s eyes darkened as he stared at you—flushed, breathing fast, caught between them. “…Tch. Fine. But I’m not letting you outdo me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dazai said, his voice dripping with promise. Chuuya tugged you into his lap, his gloved hands sliding under your shirt as his mouth found your neck. Dazai knelt beside the couch, his hands sliding up your thighs with infuriating slowness.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his fingers brushing dangerously close to your core. “All worked up with nowhere to run.”

Chuuya nipped at your skin. “She doesn’t want to run. Do you, doll?”

You shook your head, a shaky breath leaving you as their hands began to explore, the heat of their rivalry and desire finally spilling over—gold and silver, fire and shadow, each determined to make you unravel.

Chuuya’s mouth was hot against your neck, and Dazai’s hands were already testing the edges of your self-control.

“You’re shaking,” Dazai whispered against your ear, his voice curling around your spine like smoke. His bandaged fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, tracing the damp heat over your panties without mercy. “All that attitude, and now you’re trembling for me.”

“She’s trembling for me,” Chuuya growled, nipping your throat. His hands roamed beneath your shirt, his gloved thumbs circling your nipples until you gasped. “I’m the one making her melt.”

You couldn’t answer—not when Chuuya’s hand slid lower, unbuttoning your jeans while Dazai’s fingers pressed more firmly against your clothed core. Your hips bucked instinctively, and Dazai laughed softly. “See that? Her body knows who’s in control.”

Chuuya’s grip tightened. “Don’t start, Dazai. I’ll prove it.”

Before you could process, Chuuya flipped you onto your back on the couch, straddling your hips as he yanked your jeans down your legs. Dazai’s eyes glittered with amusement and hunger as he helped, sliding the denim off entirely to leave you in your panties and the necklace he’d given you.

“Gold or silver,” Dazai murmured, letting his fingers trail the chain at your throat, “doesn’t matter. You look perfect on your back.”

Your cheeks burned as Chuuya leaned down and kissed you hard, his tongue claiming your mouth while Dazai’s hands held your thighs open. The bandages were rough against your skin, a delicious contrast to Chuuya’s leather gloves as they teased your inner thighs. “Mm,” Dazai hummed, his fingers finally slipping under the damp fabric to stroke you properly. “So wet already. You love having two men fight over you, don’t you, belladonna?”

Chuuya broke the kiss to smirk down at you. “Answer him.”

You nodded shakily, heat flooding your body. “Y-Yes…”

“Good girl,” Dazai purred, sliding one finger inside you, slow and deliberate. Your back arched against the cushions, and Chuuya caught your wrists, pinning them over your head with a grin.

“See? She needs someone to hold her down,” Chuuya said, his voice dark with satisfaction. “She’ll take what I give her.”

“Or,” Dazai countered, adding another finger, curling them just right to make your breath hitch, “she’ll beg for what I give her.”

Your hips rocked helplessly between them as Chuuya leaned down to suck one of your nipples through your bra while Dazai’s fingers worked your core, spreading heat and tension through your entire body. “Gonna let her come?” Chuuya asked, his voice muffled against your skin.

Dazai’s grin turned wicked. “Not yet. I want to see her beg first.”

You whimpered as his fingers slowed, the edge of release slipping frustratingly away. “Please…” you whispered, voice breaking.

“Please what?” Dazai teased, brushing his thumb over your clit in the faintest circle.

“Please… I need it…”

Chuuya chuckled low. “You hear that? She’s desperate.”

Dazai tilted his head, eyes drinking in the sight of you spread out and trembling. “Then let’s see who she begs for harder.”

Before you could react, Chuuya shifted down, tugging your panties aside and replacing Dazai’s fingers with his tongue. The heat of his mouth against your clit ripped a loud moan from your throat, and your hands clenched around the cushion. “Fuck, Chuuya—!”

Dazai’s fingers moved to your breasts, pinching your nipples through your bra as he leaned over you, his voice silky and taunting. “So quick to call his name… but I bet I can make you scream mine.”

Chuuya growled into you, the vibration making your thighs tremble. “Careful, partner,” he said, pulling back just enough to smirk, his lips wet. “She might not last long enough for you to get your turn.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep her going,” Dazai said, reaching for the coffee table where his paper bag sat. He pulled out a small bullet vibrator with a grin that made your heart skip. “I brought another gift,” he said lightly, clicking it on.

The soft hum filled the room, and your body tensed in anticipation. “Oh, she’s gonna love this,” Dazai teased, pressing the toy to your clit while Chuuya licked around it, the combined sensations overwhelming. Your back arched, and a broken moan spilled from your lips. “That’s it,” Dazai murmured, voice dark with approval. “Let go. Show us who can really control you.”

Your release crashed over you like fire and lightning, and both men watched with matching hunger as you came undone—knowing this was only the start of the night. Your climax had barely faded before Chuuya scooped you into his arms, lips brushing your ear as he carried you toward his bedroom.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you, doll?” His voice was dark silk, roughened with arousal.

Dazai followed lazily, twirling the still-humming vibrator in his fingers. “Mmm, no. We’re just getting started. Can’t let Chuuya win too easily.”

Your back met soft sheets, and they were on you instantly—Chuuya unhooking your bra while Dazai slid your panties down your legs. Both of them drank you in, eyes dark with hunger, like predators circling prey they planned to share.

“Gold or silver,” Dazai murmured, brushing the chain of the necklace he’d given you as he traced a finger between your breasts. “Right now, you’re just mine.”

“Not if I make her scream first,” Chuuya muttered, sliding his gloves off with his teeth before pinning your thighs open. They worked in tandem without planning—Chuuya’s mouth on your breasts, Dazai’s fingers dipping into your soaked heat. Every brush, every flick, every teasing pause had your body arching, trembling, begging without words.

Then Dazai pulled back, smirking. “I want to see her break properly.”

Chuuya raised a brow, panting. “You think I can’t make her fall apart?”

“Oh, I know you can,” Dazai said smoothly, “but I can make her sob for it.” Your breath caught, your stomach flipping as heat pooled low again.

Round one, who will you beg for?

Dazai grabbed the bullet again, pressing it to your clit while sliding two fingers inside you, curling them with calculated cruelty. Chuuya climbed up behind your head, leaning down to kiss you upside down, his tongue claiming your mouth as Dazai’s fingers worked in rhythm with the vibrator. The sensations tangled into something unbearable.

“You feel that?” Dazai murmured. “Every time you twitch, every sound you make… it’s mine.”

“She’s not saying your name,” Chuuya taunted, pinching your nipples.

You moaned into his mouth, and Dazai’s grin sharpened. “She will.”

He flicked the toy against your clit in rapid pulses, and your hips jerked. “D-Dazai—!”

“There it is,” he said with a low chuckle, kissing the inside of your thigh as he kept you teetering on the edge.

Okay, but who can make you cum harder?

Chuuya wasn’t about to be outdone. He shoved Dazai aside, kneeling between your legs and burying his face against your dripping core. His tongue worked in rough, deliberate strokes that had your legs shaking. Dazai didn’t even protest—he just crawled up to your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, fingers twisting the other.

You arched off the bed, helpless against the onslaught. “That’s it,” Chuuya growled against you. “Come on my tongue like a good girl.”

You shattered with a cry, clutching the sheets, your body thrashing as the orgasm wracked you. “Good girl,” Chuuya said, licking you clean. “See, Dazai? She comes harder for me.”

“Mmm,” Dazai hummed, sliding a hand between your legs to feel the aftershocks. “Oh, we’re not done.”

A little overstimulation never hurt.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dazai flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. The cold slide of lube made your heart race. “Hold her still,” Dazai ordered.

Chuuya grinned and grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back. “With pleasure.”

Dazai pressed the vibrator to your clit from behind while slowly pushing his cock into you, groaning at the tight, wet heat.

“God, she’s perfect like this,” he said, voice ragged.

Chuuya leaned down by your ear. “Listen to her, already whimpering.” He reached under you to play with your breasts as Dazai started to thrust, the toy buzzing relentlessly against your swollen clit. Your legs trembling uncontrollably. “That’s it, doll,” Chuuya whispered, kissing your temple. “Take it. Let him ruin you first—I’ll take my turn after.”

Dazai laughed darkly, snapping his hips harder. “You hear that? He admits I win this round.”

Your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming, leaving you gasping and trembling in their grip.

Maybe working together is the better option?

They weren’t finished. Chuuya rolled you onto your back again, sliding into you before the aftershocks even ended. His pace was brutal, relentless, while Dazai straddled your chest, holding his cock near your lips. “Open up, belladonna,” Dazai purred. “Show me how good you can be.”

You obeyed, your tongue darting out as he groaned softly. The humiliation only fed the heat curling in your belly again. “That’s it,” Chuuya said between thrusts, watching with dark fascination. “She loves it. Loves being used by both of us.”

Dazai’s hand tangled in your hair, guiding your pace, while Chuuya drove into you until your body gave out again—another shattering orgasm that left you limp and trembling beneath them.

By the time they were done, your skin was marked with their hands and mouths, your voice hoarse from moans and cries, your body spent and coated in sweat and satisfaction. Chuuya lay beside you, brushing your hair from your face. “Tch. She’s wrecked.”

Dazai smirked, lying on your other side and kissing your cheek. “Perfectly wrecked.” Your entire body trembled as you sprawled across Chuuya’s bed, skin flushed and damp with sweat. Both men lounged at your sides, catching their breath.

Dazai’s hand lazily trailed down your stomach, his grin sharp and teasing. “So, belladonna… who won?”

You blinked up at him, chest heaving. “I… I can’t—”

Chuuya raised a brow, his voice low and dangerous. “Can’t pick?”

A whimper escaped your throat. “I-I can’t… both of you—”

Dazai chuckled darkly, leaning close enough that his hair brushed your cheek. “Hmm… can’t pick a winner?” He hummed, mock thoughtful. “Then maybe we need to settle this properly.”

Chuuya caught on instantly, a smirk curling his lips. “What’re you thinkin’, Dazai?”

“I’m thinking,” Dazai said, dragging a bandaged finger along your collarbone, “that we tie her up and see who she breaks for first.”

Your heart skipped, heat flaring low in your belly. Chuuya tilted his head toward his dresser. “Good thing I’ve got rope. Handcuffs, too. A few other toys I’ve been waiting to use.”

“Oh?” Dazai’s grin widened, wolfish. “Chuuya, I underestimated you.”

Minutes later, you were kneeling in the center of the bed, fully nude, while they prepared. Chuuya expertly wound soft, scarlet rope around your torso, cinching it tight to frame your breasts and bind your arms behind your back. He fastened handcuffs to your wrists for extra security, the cool metal biting into your skin. “Perfect,” he murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “She looks like a little present.”

Dazai’s eyes gleamed as he held up a black silk blindfold. “Let’s make this interesting.”

The world went dark as the fabric slid over your eyes. Dazai’s voice came first, low and taunting by your ear. “Here’s how we play, belladonna. You can’t see. You can’t move. We take turns. Whoever makes you scream their name first… wins.”

Chuuya’s breath was hot on your other ear. “And if you’re really good? Maybe you get a reward.” You squirmed helplessly, the ropes biting deliciously into your skin as anticipation built.

The first touch was Chuuya’s fingers sliding between your thighs, already slick. “Tch. She’s ready for round five,” he said, amused.

Then Dazai’s hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb traced your lips, and he pressed his cock against them with a soft chuckle. “Mmm… maybe she should start with me.”

You opened your mouth instinctively, and he slid in slow, letting you suck while Chuuya’s fingers teased your entrance. “She’s too quiet,” Chuuya muttered, curling his fingers inside you.

A muffled moan vibrated against Dazai’s length, and his free hand stroked your hair. “There it is… music to my ears.”

Chuuya pulled back suddenly. “My turn to make her scream.” You heard the click of something—then the low hum of a vibrator. “She’s gonna be drooling in a minute,” he said, pressing the toy to your clit without mercy.

Your body jolted, hips straining against the ropes as the hum drilled through your nerves. Dazai groaned as you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his cock. “Fuck, that’s good,” Dazai hissed. He pulled out suddenly, a wicked thought lighting his voice. “Let’s push her further.”

Chuuya chuckled darkly. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing.”

Something cold and slick teased your entrance—Chuuya’s fingers spreading lube—before the blunt tip of a dildo slid in slowly.

“Feel that?” he whispered. “We’re not even close to done.” They alternated torturing you—Dazai fucking your mouth while Chuuya worked the toy and vibrator against your soaked core, then switching places so you felt different kinds of pressure and pleasure from every angle.

“She’s gonna break soon,” Chuuya said, holding the vibrator steady while you thrashed and moaned. “I can feel it.”

Dazai’s voice dripped with amusement. “But will she break for you?”

The blindfold, the ropes, the endless sensations—it was too much. Heat exploded through your body as you shattered, screaming… and both men froze to listen. The world shattered in white-hot pleasure as you came, your body arching against the ropes, mouth falling open. “Chuuya—!” you cried, voice cracking with the force of it.

There was a pause.

A dangerous one.

“…Oh?” Dazai’s voice went dark, low, and smooth like poison. “Chuuya, huh?”

Chuuya laughed breathlessly, still holding the vibrator against your twitching clit. “Guess that’s one point for me.”

You felt the bed dip as Dazai shifted behind you. Then, suddenly, he flipped you over onto your stomach with a swift, almost casual strength, your bound arms pressing into your back as he straddled your thighs. “You think that’s funny?” Dazai said, voice honeyed with something sharp beneath. “She forgot whose belladonna she is.”

The first smack of his hand across your ass echoed in the room, and you yelped. Chuuya whistled low. “Guess she’s in trouble now.”

Dazai’s palm came down again—harder—making your body jolt against the mattress. “I’ll teach her to scream someone else’s name. Especially his!” The spanking continued in a steady, merciless rhythm, your skin heating under his touch, every strike sending shocks straight between your legs. He paused only to rub the sting with slow, taunting circles before striking again.

“You’re gonna remember,” Dazai whispered, leaning over your ear, “who makes you feel this good.”

Chuuya’s hand suddenly joined in, kneading your ass where Dazai had just smacked you. “You’re hoggin’ all the fun. She’s still mine too, y’know.”

“Oh, we’ll share,” Dazai said, his voice like a grin. “But first… she learns.” Before you could catch your breath, Dazai slid the vibrator back against your clit from behind, while Chuuya pressed the dildo back into your soaked entrance, working it in sync with the vibrations.

“Count for us,” Dazai ordered as his hand came down again, sharp and stinging. “Every. Single. Spank.”

“S-seven!” you gasped.

Another smack.

“E-eight!” Your voice trembled as pleasure and humiliation tangled into one overwhelming blur. Tears pricked the edges of your blindfold, your body shaking with overstimulation.

Chuuya leaned in, his voice low and wicked. “She’s falling apart. Bet I can make her scream my name again.”

“Not if I make her beg for me first,” Dazai murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick folds while still spanking you, sending you spiraling even faster.

Your voice was hoarse, trembling as you called out the last number. Your ass throbbed from the stinging heat of Dazai’s hand, your legs quivering from the relentless overstimulation.

Dazai leaned over you, chest pressing against your back, his bandaged fingers gripping your jaw to turn your head toward him even though you were still blindfolded. “Who owns you, belladonna?” he purred.

You shuddered. “I— I—”

The sudden pop of the vibrator against your clit made you squeal, your answer dissolving into a moan. “She’s not ready to answer,” Chuuya said, his voice like a low growl as he knelt behind you. “Let’s make her ready.”

Something cold and slick pressed between your ass cheeks, and your breath caught. “Ohhh, don’t tell me you’ve never taken two at once, doll,” Chuuya teased, spreading the lube with slow, deliberate circles.

“She can handle it,” Dazai murmured, his tone dark and giddy. “She wants to be ruined.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily, and you felt the stretch of Chuuya sliding a smaller plug into your ass while Dazai teased your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. “Mm, that’s it,” Chuuya said, smacking your ass lightly, watching the plug jiggle. “All filled up and ready to beg.” Dazai slid into your pussy first, groaning at the wet heat that clamped around him. He set a slow, teasing rhythm that had you whimpering.

“God, she’s tight,” he said, voice shaking with pleasure.

Chuuya waited until you were moaning and squirming, then carefully slid the dildo in alongside Dazai’s cock, stretching you to the edge of your limits.

You cried out, the overwhelming sensation making your toes curl and your body tense in helpless pleasure. “That’s it,” Dazai whispered in your ear, biting your shoulder lightly. “Take us both. Be a good little toy.”

Your ropes creaked as you twisted against them, lost in the feeling of being completely filled, your clit throbbing with desperate need. Dazai stilled suddenly, holding you open with his hands. “She doesn’t come until she begs properly.”

Chuuya chuckled darkly. “I like the sound of that.” He gave a sharp thrust that made you moan. “So, doll—who’s gonna make you finish?”

You shook your head frantically, panting. “I—I can’t—”

Dazai grabbed the vibrator and pressed it against your clit, the sudden sensation making your back arch violently. “Then we edge her,” he said, voice low and merciless. “Over and over until she learns.”

They worked you relentlessly, Dazai holding the vibrator in place while Chuuya thrust in tandem with him. Every time your orgasm built to a peak, the vibrator disappeared, leaving you sobbing and shaking. “Say it,” Dazai taunted. “Beg.”

“N-no—ahhh—please—”

Chuuya smacked your ass lightly, making the plug shift inside you. “Not good enough. Beg like a little whore.”

Tears slipped from beneath the blindfold as you cried out, “Please—please let me come—I’ll do anything—please!”

The men groaned in unison at your surrender. “Good girl,” Dazai said, flicking the vibrator back on. “Now let’s see who you really belong to.”

Your body shook with overstimulation, teetering on the edge of another orgasm. Dazai’s cock slid deep in your soaked pussy, the vibrator buzzing mercilessly against your clit while Chuuya’s thrusts with the dildo had you feeling stretched to the limit. But then—suddenly—everything stopped.

“Wait,” Chuuya said, his voice low and dark with mischief. “I’ve got an idea.”

You barely had time to whimper in protest before you felt him pulling the plug from your ass, a soft pop leaving you clenching around nothing. “Chuuya…?” Dazai asked, but the smirk in his voice said he already knew.

The next moment, your breath caught in a helpless cry—because Chuuya pressed the dildo that had been in your pussy against your ass, slick with your own arousal. “Ohhh, look at that,” he drawled, slowly pushing it in. “Slid right in like she was made for it. Our little slut can take anything.”

“Ahhh—!” you squealed, the humiliation sending heat straight through your core. You could feel how dirty it was, knowing where that toy had just been.

“She’s clenching so hard,” Dazai murmured, leaning over to watch your hole stretch around the toy. “She loves it.”

“Bet she does,” Chuuya said, giving your ass a firm smack. “But she’s not full yet.” Chuuya moved in front of you, gripping your hair and tilting your head up. “Open that pretty mouth, doll.”

Your lips parted obediently, a soft whimper escaping as his cock pressed against your tongue. “Good girl,” he praised, sliding in slowly until your mouth was full. “Mmm, look at that—every hole stuffed like she was made for us.”

Dazai groaned from behind you, starting to thrust again, his rhythm syncing with the shallow push of the dildo in your ass. “She’s perfect like this. Can’t even move. Just our little toy.”

The bed creaked with their movements, your bound body caught between them, blindfolded and helpless. Chuuya held your head steady as he fucked your mouth, your throat convulsing around him. “God, listen to those sounds,” he groaned.

Dazai’s fingers dug into your hips, his thrusts growing sharper. “She’s dripping all over me… fuck, I can feel her about to break.” They didn’t stop. Chuuya’s cock slid in and out of your mouth, the dildo filling your ass while Dazai pounded your pussy and the vibrator pulsed against your clit.

You were gone—mindless and overstimulated, drool and tears dripping down your chin. “Mm, she’s quiet,” Dazai teased, leaning forward to bite your shoulder. “You gonna beg for us, belladonna?”

Chuuya smirked down at you. “Beg with my cock in your mouth. Let’s hear it.”

You moaned around him, a pitiful garbled sound, your whole body trembling.

“Good enough for me,” Dazai said with a low laugh. “Come for us, sweetheart. Show us who owns you.”

The orgasm ripped through you like fire, your scream muffled around Chuuya’s cock as your whole body shook violently, every muscle tensing and then melting into pure submission. “Fuck, she’s perfect,” Chuuya groaned, spilling down your throat as Dazai thrust you through the aftershocks, chasing his own release until he came deep inside you.

When it was over, you were nothing but a trembling, overstimulated mess, still bound and leaking from every hole. Dazai gently removed the blindfold, and your blurry vision caught both men grinning down at you. “So…” Dazai said, voice sweet and taunting, “who won now, belladonna?”

You could barely whimper, but the helpless look on your face said it all—maybe they both did. Your body was limp, trembling in the aftermath of everything they’d done to you. Your ropes were damp with sweat, the sheets beneath you soaked. Dazai and Chuuya were both catching their breath, your ragged whimpers the only other sound in the room.

Dazai was the first to move. He slid out of you slowly, groaning softly, and then gently removed the dildo from your ass, watching your abused hole twitch and clench around nothing. “Look at her,” he murmured with a low chuckle, tracing a finger down your spine. “Completely ruined… but so perfect.”

Chuuya finally pulled out of your mouth, letting you breathe, and stroked your wet, tear-streaked cheek with his thumb. “You okay, doll?” His voice had softened, the dangerous edge melting into something warm and possessive.

You nodded weakly, your throat raw, your voice barely audible. “Y-yeah…”

“Good girl.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the praise making you shiver.

Dazai started undoing the ropes, his movements slow and careful, rubbing your wrists where they were reddened. “Shhh, belladonna. We’re done. You were perfect for us.”

Chuuya disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm towel and a glass of water. He carefully wiped you down, cleaning the mess from your thighs and stomach, murmuring praise under his breath. “You took everything we gave you,” he said, voice thick with pride. “Our perfect little toy.”

Dazai lifted you into his lap once the ropes and cuffs were gone, letting you curl against his chest like a ragdoll. His bandaged fingers stroked your hair while he held the water to your lips. “Sip, baby. We can’t have our winner passing out on us.”

You gave a weak laugh against his neck. “…Winner?”

Chuuya snorted, sliding onto the bed beside you and tugging the blanket over your naked body. “Yeah, I think we both lost. Or maybe we both won. You’re the trophy.”

Dazai hummed in agreement, kissing the top of your head. “Mmm, I think the real victory is how wrecked she looks.” He tilted your chin up so you met his gaze. “But don’t worry, belladonna… next round, I’ll make sure you’re screaming my name first.”

Chuuya smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

You could only sigh and bury your face into Dazai’s chest, feeling Chuuya’s warm hand stroke your thigh from the other side. Between them, safe and completely spent, the rivalry was the last thing on your mind. You were however worried for the next round.

[lostatsea-blog]

One Final Dance (Part 3)

Alexia x England Reader

You have just made history by winning back to back European trophies but all you can see is Alexia's devastation.

Part 1 Part 2

After the Match

The ricochet of the next, as the ball hit the back, pulled us all from our haze and the crowd behind the next erupted. We had done it! We had retained the trophy and won back-to-back competitions. All around me, the England girls cheered and screamed in triumph. Arms thrown skyward and bodies crashing together. I don’t know who jumped on me first but I was quickly buried under a pile of bodies powered by the ecstasy of the moment. The throng of bodies on top of me gradually dissipated and I was pulled to my feet. While I wanted to join in the celebration, there was someone I want to see first. My eyes tracked across the field until they landed on her!

Alexia stood, hands on hips, eyes glassy and breathing deep. The heartbreak was written as clear as day across her face. I watched as her chest rose and fell in a shallow broken rhythm. Alexia was a larger-than-life figure on the pitch but in that moment, she looked so small; swallowed by the weight of the loss and the responsibility she would shoulder for the loss. I felt hands clapping me on the bag and people pulling me into hugs but all I could see was her.

I didn’t think about how it would look, or what might appear in the media, I just moved. I ducked out of the way of celebrating teammates, past the cameras and past the confetti streams that covered the pitch. I accepted the congratulations offered by some of the Spanish players but did not stop to talk to them. I was powered by an urgency I couldn’t explain; seeing Alexia’s heartbreak stirred something inside of me and I needed to get to her. The match was over, she was no longer my opponent or fierce rival, she was my Alexia.

She did not make eye contact at first, even though I knew she could see me approaching. I half expected her to walk away but she didn’t, she stayed glued to the same spot, eyes downcast. Not even her teammates could breach her heartache. I knew she would be relaying the whole match, every pass and every missed chance. I also knew that she would feel the impact of her substitution more now; frustrated that she was not on the pitch to help in those final minutes.

I stopped besides her and my shadow fell over her. She knew I was there but still refused eye contact. My hand slipped down her arm until it reached her hand which I took hold of, squeezing once and then again when she did not respond. She blinked slowly as though coming out of a nightmare and when her eyes found mine they shimmered with a pain I knew too well. I did not say anything, simply opening my arms and allowing her to fall into them. When she stepped into me the rest of the world fell away and it was just me and her.

I held her tightly. One hand cupping the back of her head, the other holding her around the waist as she buried her face in my shoulder. Her breathing was coming in short, shallow stutters and I knew she was trying desperately to hold herself together and remain composed

“I’m sorry” her soft voice whispered as she squeezed me tighter

“No” I shook my head and pulled back slightly so I could look at her while my hand remained holding the back of her head “No sorry, no apologising for your feelings” she took a deep breath and nodded “I am so proud of you Lex” I whispered

“You did it, you retained the trophy” se tried to give me an encouraging smile. I knew once the dust had settled, Alexia would be pleased for me (but still disappointed that Spain lost) but right now everything was still raw for her and I understood that

“None of that matters right now” I shook my head. She gave me a weak push against my chest in a half-hearted attempt to get me to let go

“You should be celebrating with your team; you made history tonight”

“I will celebrate” you gave her a sad smile “but I needed you to know that I see you and that no matter that outcome you always have my support” I felt her lips ghost briefly over mine as her hands braced against my chest and she pushed harder forcing me to take a couple of steps back

“Go and celebrate with your team; you deserve it” she insisted “I will call you later”

“I love you” you replied taking another step back knowing that in a minute you would have to walk away from her

A genuine smile lit up her face “I love you always” she replied “And I am so proud of you – my champion”

Your heart fluttered at her declaration but the moment was quickly broken by the sound of your teammates shouting you to come over. You stepped towards her one final time and placed a gentle kiss against her cheek before jogging back to your team. When you reached your team, you glanced back. She still looked sad but her eyes now held more of a spark and you knew you could stop worrying. The two of you would soon be reunited properly but now it was time to celebrate.  

[dreamygirl19]

Hi may you do seongje x quiet reader where he has a long day of beating people up and he wants her around him while he’s gaming? I didn’t really know how to word this I’m sorry 😭❤️🍓

I see what you mean and I hope I you like it <3 It's a bit short but still all fluffy, and btw seeing the words quiet everywhere made me thought about doing one day a Geum Seongje x mute!reader

A Quiet Kind of Peace

✮ Summary : Request above ↑

✮ Contains : Little bit of angst, Fluff

✮ Pairing : Geum Seongje x quiet!reader

✮ Word Count : 627 words

The faint glow of the computer screen cast long shadows in the dimly lit room, illuminating the tense lines of Seongje’s face. He had been through a brutal day, the echoes of the punches and shouts still ringing in his ears, leaving a phantom ache in his knuckles. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but the anger and frustration were a potent cocktail that made stillness impossible. He needed to focus on something else, something mindless and repetitive, to burn off the residual energy of the day.

He found solace in the relentless rhythm of his game, the familiar click of the mouse and the clatter of the keyboard a calming mantra. The virtual world offered a different kind of violence, one he could control, one with clear rules and a definite victory. But even as he methodically took down opponents, a sense of emptiness gnawed at him. The victory felt hollow, the silence of the room a heavy blanket.

A soft, hesitant knock on the door startled him. He instinctively tensed, his hand hovering over a key, ready to pause the game. “It’s open,” he grunted, his voice rougher than he intended.

The door creaked open and you slipped in, a silent, comforting presence. You didn't say anything, didn't ask what was wrong, you simply moved to the armchair in the corner, curling up with a book in your hands. The only sound you made was the soft rustle of the pages as you turned them.

Just your presence was enough to ground him. The heavy atmosphere in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a quiet, shared understanding. He could feel the tension in his shoulders ease, his grip on the mouse relaxing. He glanced over at you, and a small, genuine smile touched his lips. You were lost in your book, the gentle light from your reading lamp creating a soft halo around you. He loved how you could just exist in your own world, yet be so completely present for him.

He turned his attention back to the game, but now, the virtual battles felt less like a chore and more like a distraction he could enjoy. He found himself chuckling at a particularly dramatic in-game explosion, a sound that had been absent from his lips all day. He knew you wouldn't comment on it, but he could feel your quiet support, a silent cheerleading from across the room.

Hours passed like this, the only sounds being the frantic sounds of the game and the gentle rustling of your book pages. When he finally finished a round, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his stiff muscles. He looked over at you, and found you had fallen asleep, your head tilted to the side, the book resting open on your lap.

A warmth spread through his chest, a feeling he hadn't realized he was missing. He got up and carefully took the book from your hands, placing it on the small table beside the chair. He then gently picked you up, his arms wrapping around you securely. You stirred for a moment, a soft hum escaping your lips, before settling back into a deeper sleep. He carried you to the bed, tucking you in carefully before he went back to his desk.

He didn't continue the game. The desire to play had faded, replaced by a different kind of peace. He sat at his desk for a moment longer, just looking at you, a quiet content settling in his heart. The day had been long and brutal, but with you there, it didn't feel so bad anymore. He finally turned off the computer and the reading lamp, letting the darkness envelop the room, but the light you brought with you remained.

꩜ Masterlist

꩜ One shots requests opened

[gigiii1sblog]

I LOVE YOU, IM SORRY 016

Chapter Sixteen: Almost A Farytale

warning: fluff, angst, sexual content, and more that I don't condone.

Y/N:

It’s been a year and a half.

Eighteen months since I walked out of that house and never looked back. Since I watched my reflection change in real time from someone who believed in forever, to someone who learned how easily it shatters.

I still feel the ache. Just… differently now. It’s dulled into something quieter. Less like a stab, more like a shadow that moves with me. I’ve learned how to exist with it. To live around it. But some days like today, it feels heavy in my lungs again, right beneath the surface of my ribs.

I stand in front of the mirror, curling the ends of my hair, watching the girl in the reflection. She’s not the same one who threw a birthday party with her whole chest and heart. She’s older. A little colder. A little smarter. A little lonelier.

I haven’t seen Matt since that day. Haven’t talked to him. Haven’t stalked his socials in months. I made myself stop.

But I did hear things. Through silence, you still hear. A due date. A gender. I didn’t seek it, but somehow, it always finds you.

I also haven’t talked to Nick or Chris. Not since the club.

Nothing happened, really. No fights. No drama. Just… silence. I stopped replying, and they stopped asking. Maybe they didn’t know what to say. Maybe I didn’t want to hear it. Or maybe I needed to disappear for a while, and they respected that in their own quiet way. I don’t blame them. I don’t blame anyone.

Tonight’s different, though.

I’m going on a date.

I almost said no, fingers hovering over the keyboard when I saw his message. But something in me said yes. It’s not love, not even close. But it’s… something. A chance to dress up. To laugh. To be touched by someone who doesn’t come with history like a loaded gun.

He’s taking me to Disneyland. I know, it sounds dramatic. But I think part of me liked the idea of being surrounded by something whimsical. Something innocent. Something so far from who I used to be.

I smooth my jeans down over my thighs and grab my gloss. My fingers are shaking a little.

It’s not nerves for him. It’s nerves for me.

For the version of me I buried.

For the one who used to talk about blue-eyed babies and backyard swings and never questioned if love was safe.

And maybe I’ll come back tonight feeling okay.

Or maybe I’ll come back cracked open again.

But at least I’m trying.

At least I’m walking out the door.

MATT:

It’s almost funny how quiet life gets when everything is loud inside your head.

Our apartment is soft, simple, baby toys scattered across the carpet, sunlight warming the hardwood floors in the morning. There’s a framed sonogram on the kitchen counter. A pink onesie hanging to dry on the balcony. The kind of place you’d call stable. Domestic.

And in a way, it is.

Avery and I- yeah, we’re something now. More than we were before. Moved in after the baby turned five months, tried to make it feel like a home. We sleep in the same bed, share a calendar, have matching mugs. She’ll rest her head on my chest at night and trace her finger along the tattoo on my arm. It’s warm, sometimes even sweet.

But it isn’t love.

Not the kind I once knew.

Not the kind that tore through me with wildfire and made me want to be better just because she existed.

This feels more like… obligation. Familiarity. Two people trying their best not to fall apart while raising something that needs them. It’s not bad. We laugh sometimes. We touch. We even go out to dinner now and then like some version of a real couple.

But I catch myself staring at Avery when she holds the baby, wondering if this version of my life was ever meant to be mine.

Or if it just became mine when I ruined the one I really wanted.

The baby, our daughter, is perfect. Blue-eyed, messy-haired, loud-laughing little thing. She calls me “Dada” and grabs my fingers like I’m her whole world. I’d do anything for her. I do.

She’s saved me, in a way.

But she also reminds me every day of what I lost.

Nick still isn’t really speaking to me. He loves the baby, spoils her every time he visits. But with me? There’s a wall. Every joke feels half-hearted, every hug awkward and short. He doesn’t look at me the same. I think part of him still sees her when he sees me, and hates me for it.

Chris is quieter. He checks in. Comes by with weed sometimes, lets the baby climb all over him while he scrolls through his phone. But even he doesn’t ask questions anymore. He used to. Used to push. Used to say things like, “You really fucked it up, huh?”

Now he just shrugs like the damage is done and there’s nothing left worth saving.

I don’t blame them.

Sometimes I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.

It’s like I built a life out of the rubble and tried to decorate it to look like something whole. But even with the baby’s giggles echoing through the apartment and Avery curled up on the couch beside me, there’s still a ghost in the room.

And she doesn’t speak.

She just stares.

And I stare back.

Because I gave someone else a child,

and lost the future I always imagined, with blue eyes, and her smile, and the kind of love that only happens once in a lifetime.

Sometimes I wonder if I ever really left her behind… or if I just carried her into everything I do now.

Avery doesn’t know that the first time we took the baby to the beach in December, wrapped in soft pink blankets, cheeks rosy from the wind, I had to fight off a memory so strong it nearly knocked the air out of my chest.

That winter, years ago, when I took YN to the coast. No tourists, just wind and salt and her eyes squinting into the sun. She kissed me with sand still on her lips. We stayed until it got dark. We didn’t even bring towels.

I told Avery it was just “peaceful” there.

She smiled and agreed. But I was somewhere else entirely.

Another time, we got ice cream at 11 p.m. The baby was fussy, so we took a drive, windows down, and Avery fed her tiny spoonfuls of vanilla from the front seat while I parked along the overlook.

She laughed, told me it felt like a movie scene.

And I didn’t say it, but I had lived that scene before. With YN. Summer after tour ended. When we didn’t have much money but we had each other. She danced barefoot in the parking lot that night, dripping strawberry cone all over her hoodie.

Sometimes, when the baby’s asleep and the world is quiet, I play songs for her. And the other night, I held her in my arms and hummed “And I Love Her” by The Beatles under my breath.

Avery looked over, said how that is a really good song.

I just nodded.

Didn’t tell her it was the song I played after taking YN to In-N-Out for the first time, just the two of us, a couple days after we met at that party.

We sat in the car for almost an hour after eating.

She dipped her fries in ranch. Talked about music and constellations and what it felt like to kiss someone you were afraid to lose.

She made me laugh so hard I forgot to care about anything else. I watched her like she was something I wasn’t sure I deserved.

And on the drive home, that song came on. And I remember thinking, this is her. This is the girl.

It’s not fair to Avery.

She’s been patient. Kind. She’s trying.

She didn’t ask for a man with ghosts in his chest.

But I don’t know how to be someone who doesn’t remember.

I’ve built a new life. One I show up for. One I’m grateful for.

But every so often, in the middle of something ordinary, I’ll catch myself drifting,

to the old apartment smelling like her perfume,

to the way she used to mouth the lyrics of every song,

to the feeling of being so deeply seen I couldn’t look away.

And I wonder if I’ll ever get to live a single day without asking:

What if I hadn’t fucked it all up?

Y/N:

Milo: Outside when you’re ready :) Disneyland awaits.

I smiled. Not because I was ready. But because I wanted to be.

And maybe that was good enough.

The car pulled up five minutes early.

That alone was enough to make me blink twice, most guys I’d met could barely be on time for a phone call, let alone a full-day plan. But Milo was leaning against the passenger door of his silver Audi, holding a little iced coffee tray like it was flowers, and smiling like he wasn’t nervous.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” he said when I stepped out. His voice was soft, a little raspy. He always spoke like the world might be listening, so he kept it gentle.

I tugged at the edge of my cardigan, suddenly unsure if the light makeup I’d done looked like effort or like overthinking.

“You remembered the coffee,” I smiled.

“Of course I did. I’m not a monster,” he teased, handing me the one with extra vanilla cold foam. “And I figured you’d need it if I’m dragging you to Disneyland on a Saturday.”

I laughed as I slid into the seat. “Dragging? I thought this was your idea.”

“It was, but I’m giving you the credit. You look cute when you get excited.”

He got in and started the car like he wasn’t making my heart lurch. He was charming in a kind way, not a loud way. Everything about him was easy. Comfortable.

And that scared me a little.

The radio was playing something quiet and mellow as we drove through the early morning light. Milo didn’t talk the whole time, he let me rest my head back, sip my coffee, and just be. It was the kind of silence that didn’t beg to be filled. I liked that.

Still, my eyes wandered sometimes, to the window, to the sky, to places memory lived.

I thought about the last time I went on a real date. The last time someone held my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist like I was something soft. Like I was his.

I thought about that night Matt and I drove to In-N-Out a few days after we met at a party. How we sat in the parking lot with fries and his hoodie in my lap. He played “I Love Her” by the Beatles on the aux and eventually after a couple month of talking he told me it reminded him of the first time he saw me.

It was raining that night.

My chest ached like a bruise now when I remembered it.

“You okay?” Milo asked gently, eyes still on the road.

“Yeah,” I answered too quickly. “Just tired.”

He didn’t push. Just smiled and reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, you deserve a good day. That’s the only rule.”

I nodded, trying to believe it.

Outside, the signs started changing, Mickey ears on the highway, the shimmer of distant park rides. My heart fluttered in a strange way. Like something was starting.

I didn’t know that a chapter was about to open and close all in one day. That fate would twist itself in the middle of Main Street and force me to look back.

For now, I just smiled at Milo, grateful. He didn’t know the whole story. He didn’t need to. He was kind. He was safe.

The morning sun was warm on my skin, and for once, the ache in my chest felt like it had faded into the background, just a whisper.

Milo held my hand as we walked past the gates, the buzz of the park filling the air, children’s laughter, the distant chime of the carousel, the scent of popcorn and cinnamon wafting around us.

We stopped first by the castle, where a little girl in a sparkly Elsa dress gasped as she met the real Elsa. Milo knelt beside me to tie his shoe, his eyes bright as he watched the scene. “You know,” he said quietly, “I never thought I’d be a Disneyland person. But this… this is kinda magical.”

I smiled. “Yeah. It’s like stepping into a dream.”

We wandered into Fantasyland, where the princesses and princes greeted kids and adults alike. When I spotted Belle, I couldn’t help but smile, her gentle kindness always felt like the kind of love I hoped for.

Milo nudged me and whispered, “Want me to get you a rose?”

I laughed softly, the sound coming easier than I expected. “Only if you promise not to curse me like the Beast.”

He winked. “Deal.”

Later, we found ourselves in line for the teacup ride, spinning in circles until our laughter was breathless and light-headed.

“You’re a terrible spinner,” Milo teased, pretending to swerve dramatically.

“Oh please,” I shot back, “You’re just mad I’m better.”

The way he laughed, deep, genuine, felt like a balm.

As we slowed down, the teacups settling, I caught his gaze and saw something soft and hopeful in his eyes.

Maybe it was the day, or the way the sun hit his hair, but I allowed myself to believe, just for a moment, that I could feel light again.

And in that moment, I forgot the past.

Forgot the cracks.

Forgot everything except the warm squeeze of his hand in mine.

He insisted I close my eyes.

We were standing just outside one of the little souvenir shops, and even though I was still a little flushed from Space Mountain, I did as he asked.

I felt the soft fabric of something plush settle over my head, the strap adjusting under my chin.

“Okay,” Milo said. “Open.”

I blinked at him, then at the reflection in the glass. On my head was a pair of baby pink Minnie Mouse ears, sequins sparkling in the sunlight, a tiny bow sitting perfectly between them.

“Milo,” I whispered, half amused, half flustered. “You didn’t have to—”

“You hesitated when we passed them earlier. That was enough.” He smiled, proud of himself. “You’re the Minnie to my Mickey today. Just go with it.”

I tried not to let the weight of those words settle too deeply into my chest. So I laughed instead. “Only if I get to pick our next ride.”

We ended up on the Jungle Cruise, cheesy jokes and all, and I watched Milo laugh harder than he probably should have at the skipper’s puns. He bought us Ice Cream after, and we sat under a shaded bench near Adventureland.

He fed me a spoonful with the tip of the plastic spoon, teasing when some of it landed on my nose.

“Don’t move,” he said, and wiped it gently with his thumb, letting his hand linger for a moment on my cheek. It felt… easy. Safe.

By midday, we were knee-deep in churros and had taken selfies in front of the sleeping beauty castle, I caught myself smiling, real, not forced, in more pictures than I had in months.

When we passed a couple slow dancing to a jazz band playing near New Orleans Square, he held out his hand and wiggled his brows. “Dance with me?”

“In the middle of Disneyland?” I laughed.

He didn’t flinch. “Exactly.”

So we danced, barely swaying, his hand at my waist, my chin tilted up toward the sky as we giggled like idiots. And for a few brief minutes, nothing else existed.

Not the ache.

Not the memory.

Not the future.

Just this: sunlight, music, and the soft warmth of someone who wanted me to be happy. Who didn’t ask for my story but held space for the girl who had one.

Later, we rode It’s a Small World and made sarcastic commentary the whole time. He pointed out which dolls looked like us. “That one’s you,” he joked. “She’s cute but kinda scary when you look too long.”

“Rude,” I gasped.

“And that one’s me,” he added, pointing at a pirate-looking one. “Dumb and waving aggressively.”

We ended the ride laughing so hard our cheeks hurt.

It wasn’t love. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But it was peace.

It was good.

It was mine.

⸻

The fireworks bloomed above Sleeping Beauty’s Castle like painted explosions. Gold, pink, and lavender light tore through the sky, crackling in slow motion, reflecting in every pair of eyes watching. It felt like a movie. It felt fake. Too perfect to be real.

Milo’s arm was around my shoulder, pulling me into him gently, his hoodie smelling like sugar and cologne and something safe. I was leaning into it. Into him. I even laughed when he whispered something stupid about how Mickey probably has back problems from smiling all the time.

For once, I let myself exist in the moment.

We had matching wristbands, cotton candy-stained fingers, a selfie with Cinderella who said we looked like a “very sweet couple.” My Minnie ears were slightly crooked, and I hadn’t bothered to fix them. He bought them earlier, grinning like he was proud of himself, calling them “a trophy for the prettiest girl here.”

We were supposed to stay for the fireworks. That was the plan.

That was the whole plan.

Until I heard it.

“Y/N! Come here, baby!”

The world didn’t stop immediately. Not at first. But my body did.

My shoulders stiffened. My mouth dried. Something inside me twisted violently, like my stomach knew before my mind did.

It was the way he said my name.

The way it sounded when he used to say it.

I turned my head slowly, like I already knew what I was going to see but didn’t want to.

And there he was.

Matt.

Kneeling on the pavement not far from the edge of the crowd, just outside the line of stroller traffic. His hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His hair a little longer than before. His face, God, his face. So familiar it hurt. And so different it made me want to cry.

He was holding out his arms.

And running toward him, wobbly and full of excitement, was a little girl. Dressed in a lavender dress. Light-up shoes blinking with every tiny step.

She had curls.

And the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen.

She looked just like him.

I barely noticed Avery standing beside them, her head turned toward them with a soft, tired smile.

But I saw everything else.

I saw him catch the little girl in his arms.

I saw the way he lifted her with ease, his whole body curving around her like a home.

I saw the way she melted into his shoulder, the way his lips brushed her temple.

I saw him whisper something in her ear that made her giggle.

And then he turned.

And his eyes met mine.

Right there, beneath the fireworks, under all the light and smoke and Disney magic, our eyes locked like fate had just grabbed both our collars and slammed us into the moment.

It didn’t feel real.

It felt like I’d dreamed this exact scenario before. Or maybe had nightmares about it.

My legs stopped moving.

My heartbeat turned to glass.

And in the exact same second my eyes blurred with tears, one slipped free and rolled silently down my cheek.

He didn’t move.

I didn’t either.

Just two people, two ghosts, staring at the versions of each other they never expected to see again.

He looked stunned. Wrecked. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

And the worst part?

The little girl, his daughter, tugged at his sleeve and pointed to the fireworks like none of it meant anything at all.

Because to her, it didn’t.

To her, I was just a stranger.

To me, she was everything I lost.

Milo’s voice was distant. Like he was underwater.

“YN? Are you okay?”

I blinked and forced air into my lungs.

“I— I wanna leave.”

“What?”

“I need to leave. Now.”

My voice cracked like glass under a boot, and that was when he really looked at me.

“Did something happen?”

I shook my head and turned, wiping my face with the back of my hand like it would erase the sting.

“I just… I need to go.”

I didn’t wait for him.

I didn’t dare look back again.

Because if I did… if I looked into those blue eyes one more time… I was scared I wouldn’t leave at all.

And God, that little girl.

He gave her my name.

And I had nothing but a tear-stained memory, falling apart beneath a sky of fireworks.

MATT:

The fireworks were beautiful.

That kind of over-the-top, choreographed magic that’s supposed to make people believe in things again. Like hope. Or happy endings. Or the idea that anything can be okay if you just wish hard enough beneath the right sky.

I wasn’t looking at the fireworks.

I was looking at my daughter.

Her cheeks lit up with every burst of color. Blue. Then gold. Then pink. She giggled when she pointed to the sky and I nodded like I hadn’t seen it too many times already. Like I wasn’t exhausted. Like I didn’t feel hollow in places I couldn’t even name anymore.

Then I said it.

“Y/N! Come here, baby!”

And that name tasted like a bruise.

I meant her, my daughter. But the moment it left my lips, something shifted.

I felt it.

Like a cold ripple in warm water.

Like my heart tripped over something invisible.

I bent to pick her up, all lavender and laughter, and when I looked up…

I saw her.

Her.

Standing just beyond the stroller crowd. Still. Frozen. Drenched in the glow of the fireworks like the universe lit her up on purpose.

It was like the air left my lungs in one breath.

YN.

She hadn’t changed, and she had. Her hair was longer. Her face a little sharper. But her eyes, God, her eyes were the same. Wide, brown, and bottomless. Like the first time I looked into them across a crowded birthday party. Like that night in the car when I told her I didn’t deserve her. Like every second she ever cried into my hoodie, and I let her.

She was standing beside some guy. He had his arm around her. She wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking at me.

And I swear to God, if she had run, I would’ve chased her. If she had spoken, I would’ve listened. If she had cried, I would’ve begged.

But she just stood there.

And I did the one thing I shouldn’t have.

I stared back.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

Because that was the woman I loved more than I ever thought I could love anyone. And now I was holding the child she never got to experience with me.

The daughter I named after her.

Avery shifted beside me, her voice soft. “Matt?”

But I barely heard her. My ears were ringing.

Then I saw it.

A single tear, streaking down YN’s cheek like a silent goodbye.

And my stomach fucking dropped.

She turned away. I saw her push past people, shoulders tight, hands trembling.

She was leaving.

Again.

And I had no right to stop her.

I looked down at my daughter. She was still laughing. Still pointing at the sky. Oblivious to the hole in my chest.

“Let’s go find a quieter spot,” Avery said, touching my arm. “Too loud here.”

I nodded but didn’t speak.

Not until we were walking away did I find the courage to say anything at all.

“She saw me,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. “She saw us.”

Avery looked up, brows drawing together. “Was that her?”

I didn’t answer. She already knew.

Her hand brushed against mine as we walked. I didn’t take it.

And later, hours later, when we were driving home and my daughter was asleep in her car seat, I looked out at the highway and thought about every version of life we could’ve had.

All the ones that never happened.

All the ones I destroyed.

And even with Avery beside me, even with my baby girl breathing softly in the back seat…

I’d never felt more alone in my life.

Y/N:

The air in the car was different now.

It wasn’t the kind of silence that comforted you after a long day, it was thick, pressing down on my chest like it wanted me to speak, but I didn’t have the words. My stomach still felt hollow. My ears rang, not from the fireworks, but from that voice echoing in my head:

“Y/N, come here baby.”

And it wasn’t mine he meant.

Milo kept glancing at me from the driver’s seat, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting over the gear shift like he didn’t know whether to reach for me or give me space. The road lights flickered across his face, softening the crease in his brows.

“Are you okay?,” he finally asked, voice cautious but kind. “Did I… do something wrong back there?”

I shook my head. My voice caught before it even reached my mouth. “No, it’s not you.”

He nodded slowly, like he wanted to believe me but didn’t. “You don’t have to talk about it. I just, I hope you had fun. I was really looking forward to today.”

“I know,” I said quietly, eyes on the window, watching the night blur past. “You were great, Milo. Really I had so much fun with you.”

“But something changed,” he said softly. “After the fireworks.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to hurt him. He was sweet. He bought me ears, made me laugh, danced with me in line for churros. But the moment I saw Matt… everything tilted.

“I saw someone,” I finally admitted.

He looked over, his eyes flickering with something like understanding. “An ex?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

“Oh,” he breathed.

A beat passed. Then two. He slowed the car a little as we got closer to my place. “Was it… serious?”

I stared at my hands. My nails were still painted the color he once said reminded him of me. My ring finger twitched.

“I thought it was forever,” I said honestly. “I thought he was it for me.”

Milo stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have come today. I thought I was ready, but I’m not. That wasn’t fair to you.”

He pulled up to the curb outside my apartment and shifted the car into park. His voice was gentle, but there was a quiet sadness in it. “It’s okay. I’d rather you be honest than pretend.”

I finally looked at him, the guilt burning hot in my chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He gave me a small, tired smile. “But I’m not the one you were thinking about when the fireworks went off, was I?”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t expect me to.

I stepped out of the car, gave him a soft thank you, and shut the door. He waited until I was inside the gate before driving off. I stood there a moment, in the stillness of the night, the wind cool against my skin, my heart still pounding from something that didn’t even happen.

I should’ve gone inside.

But instead, I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and opened my messages. The contact was still pinned, though I hadn’t touched it in over a year.

Chris 🕺

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering.

Then I typed:

hey are you busy?

And hit send.

My heart ached. My hands trembled.

And all I could do was wait.

lmkkk what yall think about this.. sorry for the cliffhanger BTW I LOVE YOURE GUYS COMMENTS & MESSAGES IN MY INBOX PLEASE KEEP THEM COMING 🙏 ( ignore the mistakes pls and thank you🥲)

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[deepseawanderer]

How do you fix what’s meant to be broken?

Date everything x gn! Reader

Cw: mentions of sh scars, eating disorders, drug use and abuse

this is based on me and my life but I tried to keep it as broad as possible! also some characters might be ooc so I’m sorry for that 🥲

Not even a few minutes ago had a mysterious drone crashed through your window with a box and a pair of glasses you definitely did not order, and now a pink haired stranger was standing in front of you, excitedly talking with her hands as she casually explained the objects in your house were alive and had been since you moved in.

Your stomach twists and carries that familiar heavy feeling of dread and guilt that makes you want to fall asleep and never wake up. Had they really seen everything? You haven’t even met them yet but surely they all hated you already, probably disgusted by your constant self destructive habits.

The jagged edges of your bitten away nails find the fabric of your pants, the scars beneath starting to itch at the embarrassment washing over you. The bubbly stranger, who introduced herself as Skylar notices this, clearing her throat to grab your attention back.

“Why don’t I just show you what I mean? I know this can get a bit confusing!” An airy chuckle leaves her lips as she gently grabs your arms and points your attention to your front door. Just as you’re about to question the lunatic beside you, a handsome stranger dressed like a bouncer appears in front of you. He speaks, and surprisingly a heavy British accent finds your ears. How can an object be British? Was he made in a British factory? Was it where the wood was from? Did he pick it up from somewhere? Were his parents british? Do objects even have parents? No matter, you don’t have time to dwell on the millions of questions flooding your brain.

“I don’t want to see those spectacles being used for anything, untoward.” The man eyes you, not as judgy as you expected. He looks almost concerned. Not a look you’re a stranger to receiving.

“Hey Dorian! Don’t worry, this is going super well!” The cheery stranger both annoys and intrigues you. Why was she annoying you? She’s only trying to do what she was created for. God you’re so negative. Maybe it’s because you can’t remember you ate even half the bare minimum amount of calories for the day, or the last time you went a day fully sober, or the last time you had gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

“You sure about that?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow up at you. Your hair was thrown up in something just to keep it out of your face, your cheeks sunken in and eye bags prominent. “Maybe keep them away from the- rowdier objects.”

“Roger that!” Skylar snaps her fingers at him. Never mind, you liked her. “Oo I know just who is dying to see you. Follow me!” She takes your hand to lead you up the stairs and as you near your room, that pit in your stomach is harder to ignore. “The bedroom? I don’t know if..” You trail off. Great, 5 seconds in and you’re already being difficult. Skylar gives you a sympathetic smile and squeezes your hand. “Don’t worry at all, just be your wonderful self.” You nod and push into the room, grimacing at the unmade bed, clothes scattered around the room that you swore up and down you’d put away, straws and scissors in the corner of the room, yeah you were fucked.

You point the glasses sheepishly at the bed, a beautiful pink haired lady materializing in front of you. “Hey there, cutie.” Her soft voice makes you feel warm. She pats the spot next to her on your mattress. “This is Betty! Your uh, Bed!” Skylar introduces. Your hands shoot to your lap awkwardly. “Um sorry for, all of this. I didn’t know my mess was affecting anyone but me and I swear I would’ve-“ your rambling is cut off by a soft male voice coming from the side, and a white tuft of hair comes into view. “Please don’t apologize. We don’t mind, really.” He has a small smile on his face that makes your stomach churn. No way they didn’t care. “I’m Mateo. Mateo Manta. I’m your blankets.” He rubs the back of his neck.

Another object materializes into view. The teddy bear you’ve had since childhood sits on the end of your bed and looks at you with the fondest eyes you’ve been looked at with. “Hey there! Just who I wanted to see!” He holds out his arms and you awkwardly crawl closer to him. This makes him chuckle “Don’t be shy, my arms are always open for you.” The invitation has the familiar burning sensation of tears come to your eyes as you return the gesture and sink into his arms. You can’t remember the last time you felt this wanted. You feel the tears before they register in your mind. “S.. sorry I don’t..” you try and choke out an apology, but teddy’s hands rubbing your back, Betty’s hand now smoothing your hair and Mateo wrapping you with a blanket make the tears flow even heavier.

“Shh.. we’ve got you.” You hear Mateo whisper. The three’s voices blend together as your lack of sleep hits you. Teddys jacket lulling you to the soft embrace of sleep as the trio silently fuss over you. They, more than anyone had seen your struggles. Betty how you toss and turn at night, Benders keeping you up till the brink of passing out. Mateo had been tossed on and off as your bodily temperature switched from too hot, to too cold. Teddy had been with you for years. You squeezed and cried into him as you questioned just why couldn’t you be loved? Why could no one care for you the way you cared for them? Now he could show you just how much you were truly wanted. How loved you were by all the objects. He would be sure of it.

——————————

umm maybe part 2 maybe not, if I do I’ll just write homeowners interactions with other objects but like idk 😭 I hope u liked it I wrote this at midnight while crying

[alllgator-blood]

stupid update post thing

I know I never *owe* explanations for stuff but I feel so, so bad when I don't get back to people, answer any asks or I fall through on stuff I said I'd make for them and just things like that. I really feel best being open about everything so I don't come off like I'm intentionally ignoring anyone, or seem like I see myself as Above talking with people who are nice enough to reach out. So here's an update I kept rewriting for days because I didn't know how to approach what's kind of a taboo topic.

If you're not comfortable reading blocks of text about general themes of Not Wanting to Be Alive Anymore, don't feel like you have to read beneath the cut:

Tbh it was only a matter of time before the topic came up, especially with one of the comics I have planned, but my default state of existence is usually passive suicidality. Which if you don't know, means I won't go out of my way to do anything crazy, but pretty much every day I'm thinking about how nice it'd be to fall asleep and never wake back up, or other thoughts like that. I feel like it's not uncommon in chronically ill people, because pain and discomfort is kind of the main aspect of being chronically ill? I feel like that state is livable when I'm not actively in a bad situation.

But when I AM in a bad situation, it's absolutely suffocating, because it quickly spirals into something less passive and becomes more of a tug of war between My Indomitable Human Spirit and the Call of the Void. I have multiple conditions, but the one flaring up the most right now (PMDD) literally just obliterates me with hormones/stress chemicals until whatever chemical makes me feel joy is completely drowned out with cortisol. It's a completely fucking evil disorder imo because it starts around two weeks BEFORE your period- so if you're already struggling to survive other conditions, it'll seem completely natural that your energy is all gone, nothing brings you joy at all, you don't want anyone to look at or speak to you, and everything that already made you want to die suddenly seems so much more worth dying over. It happens gradually. But then suddenly you start your period and you're like, ah. So it was Hysteria all along. And then your other conditions are already aggravated 10x more than usual because of the stress PMDD causes.

I can't express how awful it is to not ever feel like a human being and more like a vessel for misfiring pain receptors and chemical imbalances. So while I keep WANTING to come back on here, talk to everyone, seem normal again, right now it feels impossible. I can't even do anything for myself right now. I've disappeared on here before and I'm not sure if this is gonna be one of those several-months long stretches of time where I'm just laying in bed with the anxiety levels of a prey animal being hunted, or if I'll get over this and come back on soon. I'm not in a living situation where I'm able to take care of myself and relax the same way other people can, I pretty much survive entirely through distraction and working on stuff constantly, so it all falls apart when I can't do that.

Bottom line, I'm sorry for being flaky and distant and I never wanted anyone to feel ignored or like their efforts were for nothing if they took the time to tell me their thoughts, check in on me or draw me something. This blog is like, one of the only good things I have in my life rn and I feel AWFUL when I feel like I'm doing good enough at participating on this site. My life's not at risk rn but it's very hard to be living what's already a less than ideal life when you're physically incapable of feeling joy out of nowhere. I'm pretty blunt and open so if I was genuinely in danger I wouldn't really be quiet about it I don't think, so until I post next, just assume I'm trying to keep it together. I've lived through much worse, but it doesn't make right now any less hard to navigate.

[nono-serves]

hiiii!

First off, I just wanna say that I love your work babes!!! It makes my day to see you post :))

Going off the hcs where it was our first birthday party since our family wasn't very well off, I was wondering... could we perchance get a fic for George visiting reader's parents with them? Usually, reader visits their parents by themselves because George is so busy racing. However, this time, they go during summer break, so George sees this as an opportunity to join them. Reader protests because they're a little bit embarrassed about how George would react to where they lived (upper lower class in like the deep south of the U.S.) and doesn't want him to go. It takes some time for George to convince reader to let him go... and I feel like I'm rambling so much so you can definitely choose how the plot goes after they arrive at reader's parent's house!

(Sorry this is really self-indulgent if you can't tell 😭)

Please don't judge

summary: you were afraid of George finding out about your past living conditions, it escalated a bit!

Warnings!: smaller argument,

notes: this took way too long I'm sorry, I have so much work it can barely be called human, but I'll try to do more again, now that this biggger work has left my drafts

wordcount: 1.881

It was in the early evening when your boyfriend George found you in the bedroom, open suitcase on the bed and clothes scattered around the room. Soft rain drops could be heard, falling against the window. It has been raining the last 3 days, nothing feeling like summer during the so called 'summer break'.

You had said nothing to George about a vacation or plans to travel so far you needed a suitcase to pack, so he was quite surprised to find you and the bedroom in this state.

"Darling what is this? Were are you going, I didn't forget any kind of trip right?", his words were slow, almost hesitant. The confusion clear in his voice.

"No, you didn't forget anything. I'm just flying out to my parents on wednesday, I must have forgotten to tell you..", you had to stop yourself from mumbling the last part, because you knew damn well you did not tell him.

It was a bit unlogical, you knew that, you had never seen George judge someone by their living condicions or money situations. You knew he would never think less if you just because your family couldn't always afford the newest toys or a night out at any given occasion, but some tiny part that was way louder than it should have been, told you it was emberassing for him to date someone from your 'league', or worse he might start to think you were just dating him for money.

"Yeah you did forget to tell me about that, it's sunday already? Do you need me to drive you to the airport?", your boyfriend offered, seemingly he already forgot about you not informing him.

Inside you sparked a tiny bit of hope. Hope that he wouldn't ask about coming with you, going to your childhood home with you. Because he has done that. many time already he had asked you to meet your parents. You had declined him everytime, telling him excuses from him having important meetings and how he should be focusing on the season, to your aunt having such a fragile heart, that you bringing someone new could send her to the hospital. You always chose a few days in the middle of the season so he couldn't come without missing a major event or even a race.

But this year the only pissible had been the summer, because of your dads new job, that required him to be gone almost all day and when he finally came home he was exhausted. So during the first month it was time for your family to adjust to the new schedule, that would affect them all. And now he had taken a week of from work, so you could finally visit.

So of course, you thought, would George never miss such an opportunity to finally meet your closest relatives. And even when he wasn't proposing that idea right now, you wouldn't have long to wait, because later that night George already started asking.

"Since you're visiting your family over the summer break this time, do you think I could come with you and meet them? I've wanted to meet them for so long.", sometimt during his question he had turned his head towards you, his breath faintly hitting your cheek.

"I'm not sure George, do you really have the time? I am sure there has to be an important event again, no?", you just needed to dodge him.

"No, I cleared the entire summer break so we could spend some well deserved time together!", by now his hand had slipped into yours, brushing his thumb along yours. "Or is it that you don't want me there? Is your fragile-heart-aunt there again? I thought normally it's just your closest family. Darling look at me. What is it?", he brought his hand from where it was softly wrapped around yours to your chin. He turned your head to face his, but you refused to meet his eyes.

"No aunt Tina isn't there. It's just that maybe I should ask my family about it. No I definitly have to ask my family first!", you grabbed his wrist and moved his touch from your face again.

"Y/N you're a terrible liar. Let's discuss this in the morning okay?", he pressed a soft good night kiss on your temple before he turned around to turn off his bedside lamp.

"Good night darling."

The next day you only had to wait until breakfast for your boyfriend to bring it up again. He woke up a good 30 minutes before you so he made pancakes for the both of you.

He had even brought them to bed for you, three (a bit wonky) pancakes were stacked on the plate, topped off with fresh berries and some maple syrup. Your fork had almost hit the deliciius treat, before you could even notice the question marks drawn onto them with the golden syrup.

"George what is this? Is this about me visiting my family?", the realisation had slowly started to creep in. He really just wanted to meet your parents.

"Yes it is. Why won't you let me go with you? Do you not want me to meet them? Do they even know you have a boyfriend?", you could see the slight desperation and confusion in his eyes, clear as the day.

"It's not like that George...please trust me on this, will you?", you knew was not going to end well, but you also knew that him finding out about how you grew up was something you didn't want him to know.

"Like what is it then Y/N? Please enlighten me.", his word got a bit more passive-aggressive, but not louder, not in the slightest.

"It's maybe just that...that maybe I don't want you to come to my childhood home with me. Maybe I'm not ready for you to see such a personal part of me!", you eyes had started to widen while you ended that sentence. Even before you said it, you knew it might not have the best result. So as you had not even started formulating an apology, George had already left you alone with the almost cold pancakes.

For the next 5 hours you didn't see him. He had went to the gym with his trainer, you knew that. His training was always acheduled on little weekly notes, hold to the refrigerator by magnets. So today was straining, he would have left either way, but you didn't expecr it to be with such tension between the two of you.

You had done some thinking in those few hours and came to the conclusion, that you had to tell him. And apologize. Definitly apologize.

-----

When George entered the apartment again, hair still damp from a recent shower at the gym, he was hit with a smell, that he did for sure not expect. The smeel of food, Spaghetti aglio olie to be exact.

His dufflebag was drooped without any care as he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you still working on dinner. He had the feeling this was going to be some kind of apology and afterwards you would tell him to not mention the trip again, but ypu had other plans.

"George! Why are you home already, I wanted to be finished with the food before you are here."

"Why are you making me spaghetti darling?", he sounded tired, borderline exhausted.

"This is my try at an apology, of course I also wanted to say that I was being ridiculous and shit.", your eyes were locked onto your fidgetting hands by now, apologies weren't exactly your strong suit to be honest.

"Let's talk about this at dinner okay? We should not start such an emotiobal talk with empty stomaches.", he brought one arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to press a kiss on your temple, because George was George and he had already forgiven you when he smelled his favourite homemade meal.

Your boyfriend had barely started eating when you already started to ramble, wanting to get it over with, to be on 'good terms' again. Just the idea of him being mad at you made you squirm in your chair from being uncomfortable.

"Listen George I know I was being unreasonable but I panicked and started thtowing around white lies. In no world is my childhold bedroom too personal to share with you! It's apart of my life, and I want to share my whole life with you!", after hearing and registering your words George had stilled, a sinlge noodle slipping off his fork.

"I was never really mad at you sweetheart, I was just so frustrated why you wouldn't tell me the reason you didn't want me to come with you. So please don't apologize, you're long forgiven.", he paused, line the debating on actuall saying the next few words. "But I still want to know. Please."

Now came the hard part, you wanted to tell him, you had planned to because you knew he deserved to know the truth.

"It's a bit silly. And you need to promise not to judge me okay? Not for what I'm about to tell you and also not me for not telling you. I know technically you wouldn't judge, you're not one of those people, but I got in my head about it.", you really hoped he wouldn't take it personal, that you thought he was a spoiled rich kid that judged other on their living conditions.

"Promise"

"Okay, thank you. So I didn't want you to think of me less, or of my family. Because we were pretty poor, not homeless and life threatening poor, but noticeable poor. No expensive toys, no vacations, no kind of birthday party. And I didn't want you to see that, because I was afraid of your judgement.", your eyes had locked on your hands again, laying in your lap.

George was baffled, he had not expected your past money issues to be the problem. No, in his mind it was more likely that he had said or done something wrong.

"That's it? Oh Darling, that's okay, that's nothing. I would never have a problem with that, I'm just happy you don't still have to go throug that.", his hand found your chin once again and lifted you head, so he could look into your eyes.

At the glistening tears in your eyes he frowned, getting up and making his way over to you. He kneeled down beside your chair and turned you to his direction by your legs.

"I promise you that your familys wealth is no kind of issue to me in any world. And if they still have those issues, I would love to help them. Okay?",he now wiped a stray tear feom your cheek, before returning his hands to yours again. "Can you tell me that you will never do this again? Keep a secret and lwt it get between us in any form?"

"Yes George, of course. I'm still so sorry though for saying those bad things.", you took a deep breath to prevent you self from spilling tears again.

"And please come with me, I wan't you to meet my family. And they have been dying to meet you too."

[weneeya]

Hihihi! Do you still write for gachiakuta? I really love your works

Can I request you a headcanon how Enjin, Zanka, Riyo, Tamzy and Korvus(idk how to write his name)(it’s okay if you would do other characters, I will eat all ur works…) reacts(??) that reader’s jinki harms her, like knife that drinks her blood and most of time it’s too dangerous for her but reader dgaf abt it. It can be separately, or as you wish…(god, it feels too cringe, help)…🙏🏻

Thanks, I hope I don’t disturb you…

so dangerous m.list | rules

pairing. gachiakuta x reader

characters. enjin, zanka, riyo, tamsy, corvus

note. hiii! i'm so sorry i took soooo long before doing your request but i'm back guys! gachiakuta is so back for me, expect to see more of them coming <3 your idea was great omg i enjoyed doing this sm, thank you for this :D tw for metion of blood and harm but not much

Enjin

winces each time you use it 

sees you getting your knife out? frown

he's not the blaming type, especially not with you ; but you're not helping 

he makes sure you don't need to use it but it's not always possible 

the worst? you don't seem to care 

makes him want to go crazy every time 

half of the time, he takes you back by carrying you because you can't even stand anymore 

he swears he's on the verge of a nervous break because of you 

one time, you got on a mission without him 

stressed the whole time, imagining the worst scenarios 

walked back and forth until you came back 

it was the one time he snapped at you 

seeing you ready to faint, covered in your own blood but still not calling for help ; he saw red 

told you how unreasonable you were, but mostly how it was making him worry to death 

you ignore each other for a week after that 

but you began to be more careful

he's glad, but he won't stop making sure you're not going too far 

he can't take the risk of losing you 

Zanka

doesn't really notice at first 

thinks you're strong and cool and he's freaking out 

but he's quick to realise 

trash beasts don't bleed so how are you always covered in it? 

the moment he gets it, he's always behind you 

acts cool and nonchalant when you're looking his way 

but his eyes never lets you out of sight 

doesn't say much about it, he knows you wouldn't care 

it's your way of helping with what you have, he understands that 

but don't expect him to let you go on a mission without him 

you're a team now, and he won't let you down 

the day he saw you fell unconscious after a fight, his mind got blank 

the world disappeared around him and he realised you might too if you kept going like this 

since that, he's extra careful without telling you anything 

but you won't fall again on his watch 

Riyo

she might be a little crazy but there's no way she lets you get harm on purpose 

at least not alone 

be sure to have her joining your side the moment your knife is out 

a smile on her lips, her scissors in hand, looking at you 

“let’s go get them” and with that, you're both in the heart of the fight

each time she's seeing your blood out, she goes feral against your enemies of the day 

she lets your wounds get healed by someone else but she's here the whole time 

you need someone to check on it? don't worry she's right here 

she would never ask you to stop or be careful or anything like this 

she'll do it for you 

she's never curious about how your jinki ended up being this 

just like you're never asking about her past 

you are just the two of you, in your current states, together 

and she would trade this for nothing

Tamsy

doesn't like the idea at all 

you getting hurt is the last thing he wants ; especially if you do it to fight 

doesn't want you to fight anyway, he's here for that, he can protect you more than enough 

but it's not like you care, so you do it anyway 

sweet the first times he talked about it to you, he wants you to understand it's not good 

but he's some crazy man, so don't expect him to keep the sweet side for too long

no yelling, just a warning, silent and discreet

catch you off guard because he's never like this usually 

makes you think twice before using your jinki after this 

but there was this one time where you didn't have any other choice ; it was this or getting killed 

you expected him to snap at you but he didn't at all 

in fact, he helped you out with your wounds 

but the moment you're not with him anymore? he's like a mad man 

finds the one responsible for this and makes him pay 

keeps him alive of course, death would be too sweet 

no one hurt what he cares for, not even yourself 

Corvus

the most serious and rational about this 

sure he wants you to be careful, and he always repeats it 

but he also need to fight of course 

he lets you join the cleaners while being aware of what your jinki was 

checks on you every time after a mission 

it's a ritual by now, it's almost like you go to his office even before getting healed 

you can't hide anything from him so you tell him everything about what happened 

sometimes he scolds you for pushing yourself too far 

but there's always a thank 

he's glad to have you helping them even if it can be dangerous for you 

yet he's never letting you too much out of his sight 

he can't come on mission Enjin’s eyes are his own to be sure it's never getting out of hand 

he got eyes everywhere 

even if he's proud you're on his side, he's not letting you die for that 

he's doing this for very important reasons, but not more important than your life

thank you for reading <3

[spread-the-influence]

Idea for a host Zooble au! To be clear this is NOT asking you what you think it would be—this is ME going insane over the lore and wondering what t.i would do to my fav characters

It would be fine at first—at the start everyone gets noise cancelling headphones, the circus is redecorated to have fewer clashing colors, and they try to make a custom avatar maker (idk if t.i is powerful enough for that)

I think they’d let people know about the change, since they wouldn’t be intending to do anything harmful, and they’d be open to suggestions

I think Jax would annoy them a lot, asking for a new avatar every day, pointing out inconsistencies in how they favor some cast members, complaining about the laid-back optional adventures

Ragatha has the opposite problem and also gets on their nerves because she never tells them what she wants and Zooble can’t help if Ragatha won’t say anything

All the while, they still feel so wrong. They can look like anything, and it isn’t their true self. They spend days at a time just working on character models, needing to be reminded to keep the circus working, but it’s never right

They start to resent the others. Why is everyone else able to adjust? Is there something they have that Zooble just doesn’t?

At first, it’s just that Gangle can’t find her comedy mask. Then Jax notices his tail is missing (diverging from canon a bit). Ragatha’s sewing kit is missing a few things. Caine starts appearing without his hat

Meanwhile, people are seeing Zooble less and less. They still respond when someone knocks on their door, but never open it. Gangle and Pomni try to reach out, and they finally open the door to reveal that they’ve been attaching pieces of other cast members to their body

Gangle knows they struggle with dysphoria, so she’s empathetic and encourages Zooble to just ask and be more social

Then they start hunting down cast members and taking their body parts and getting larger and larger and it’s a whole Thing

Instead of buttonblossom we have abstragedy! One of the main issues is that Gangle worries about being close to Zooble because they might take her body because that’s how t.i warps love and closeness

Kinger becomes worm

Sorry this is long, the tism possessed me

I'M FINE WITH THIS BEING LONG . I ENJOYED READING EVERY SINGLE WORD . THIS IS SO COOL .

first of all . holy shit . this is horrifying in the best possible way . i usually don't get affected by body horror but this specific brand fucks me up /positive . a mass of body parts taken from many people ? chefs kiss . gives me the shivers thinking about it

second , love that gangle's potentially the ' final girl ' in this one . especially since just by looking at the last bullet point i feel like everything here is going to be much worse than what we have right now . good luck to her

this has my seal of approval . love this . will be thinking about this for a while