#AND MY GOD. RED FLAGS EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!

[hajimedics]

I'M NOT YOUR DOLL AND I'LL THINK FOR MYSELF AND I'LL LIVE FOR MYSELF

[crowhyun]

y’all front desk guy update

okay so i’m still mad at him bcs he’s a WHORE but ey…girls gotta have fun amirite.

n e ways…

i was talking to him since the moment i came back from class. Like i went to target, came back, did some studying, and then talked to him. It makes me all giggly when he smiles when he sees me HEHEHE HE DOESNT SMILE LIKW THAT WHEN HE SEES ANYONE ELSE HE CALLED ME GOOFY TOO WHICH MEANS HE FINDS ME FUNNY HA LOSERS

but like yeah…but i was telling him about how i almost FAILED my test today and he was like “i really don’t like that >:( you gotta study and do your work, you gotta be a good girl”

YALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

imagine if i wasn’t a scaredy cat virgin, i would be such a menace. My whole class thinks i pull guys left and right but little do they know, it’s all just a fake persona, and im just a loser 😈

but imma make sure i so good on my next test so that i can make daddy proud LMAOOOO SRY I CANT TAKE MYSELF SERIOUSLY

IM SO HORNY I WANT HIM 😭😭😭

[trinitea-fics]

Shout out again to my asshole ex-roommate who (apparently) was bummed about not having a girlfriend before we started living together. And our mutual friend (apparently) was like "oh maybe you two will hit it off".

To which he responded "Isn't she gay? She seems more like competition than dating material".

Dude. I thought I was aggressively bisexual. Do I not publicly thirst over men enough???

(and then when I did find out he was an asshole, I told myself that I would try to steal his girl if he ever got a girlfriend. And thank god, I don't think he has a girlfriend)

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 

You wince."...F-Fine?" 

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 

"You look… wet." 

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 

He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 

"Yeah?" 

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 

"Huh. I guess they do." 

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums. 

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name." 

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily. 

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

_

edit: the full fic xx

[sparky-is-spiders]

*sees interesting fic*: Oh hello

*fic describes female character we know next to nothing about as stupid/arrogant/a huge bitch*: aaaand goodbye!

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

So I’m in a deeply red incredibly conservative state.  I ran a pride month 5k awhile back. The usual group of 3 protestors with an incredibly loud bullhorn showed up to yell at us about how trans people are mutilating themselves and AIDS is God’s judgement and we’re a menace to children etc. etc. etc. But they were vastly outnumbered by runners and volunteers. One of the first race announcements was that they hadn’t ordered enough T-shirts for the amount of people who ended up running, and would have to reorder, so anyone who wanted another race T-shirt should sign up now.

We’re all used to the protestors by now, they show up everywhere. We just ignore them. Interacting with them just encourages them.

I hadn’t realized how early the race date was this year compared to previous years and hadn’t prepared as much, and there were a lot of hills; not to mention there was some confusion as to the race route which resulted in the announcer referring to it post-run as a “4-mile 5k” (they are supposed to be about 3.5 miles. One guy ended up in an entirely different district of the city from where the race route was and still finished first.) I ended up walking a lot of the race, but I finished it, and did do a fair bit of running.

I had top surgery a few years ago but I’ve only gotten comfortable running shirtless this year as body fat redistribution happened. I had been trying to decide if I wanted to run shirtless or not before the protestors showed up and started yelling, then I was like ah. I will run past the transphobes shirtless like a human middle finger. And that is what I did. was wearing delightfully garish rainbow shorts I found at a thrift store and my pink triangle necklace.

Some Americorps volunteers were directing runners at one of the more confusing junctions, I high fived one and panted that I had just joined Conservation Corps. The sound of angry bullhorn shouting faded almost immediately behind us, and there were rainbow flags hanging in several of the yards we ran past throughout the route.

As in previous years, a lot of tough incredibly fit beautiful older people, mostly women, breezed past me during the race. One jogged up even with me with an encouraging “what would you do for a klondike bar!” I wasn’t sure how to reply to this and didn’t have the breath to express that I did not want anything thick or creamy at that moment, but what did come out was “you did remind me that there’s beer at the finish line.” Another lady who walked and jogged near me for awhile near the middle-latter half of the race talked a bit and complained that one of the volunteers organizing the race hadn’t set up the “water” table with fireball shots that she did for some other races and we just got a regular water and gatorade station!

Coming back to the finish line I was handed a flag and ran past long rows of cheering people. Around the corner the protestors were still lurking, but were mostly silent now. Apparently they had gotten worn out by just standing there and not running. As I passed the bullhorn guy shook himself out of his torpor enough to give a halfhearted “is it a man? is it a woman? who knows anymore?” I passed him and the sound of cheering, and then the 80s music (I remember Blondie and ABBA) they were blasting closer to the finish line.

Once most of the runners were back there was a fun run for the kids. A couple of the older ones had also run the 5k (I just know the protestors were awful to the poor guys ughh) but all of them made a lap around the parking lot and got handed medals. All of the adult volunteers and participants spread out around the middle of the parking lot so that there was someone cheering and waving flags for the kids along every step of the route.

There were free snacks, water and beer courtesy of our sponsor [brand redacted]. There was also non-alcoholic “beer”, which I thought was nice to see, I’d been thinking there was a heavily alcoholic element to a lot of local queer events. I drank a lot of water and ate some food before getting a free beer, which still hit me pretty hard after the run. While I was hovering around the refreshment table a big handsome butch came up next to me and I noticed a faded tattoo on her arm of a chain, each link a different color of the rainbow.

I went to put something down in my car just as the protestors were starting to leave, and realized that they were moving on a course that overlapped with mine as I walked to my car. I decided I wasn’t going to stop or veer out of their way and just see what they did. As I got closer they seemed to be talking about how we had definitely totally noticed that they were leaving (no one had.) They noticed me coming towards them and suddenly got quiet, avoided eye contact and skittered out of my way. Ha.

I stumbled into the nearby fundraiser to cool down and sober up in the air conditioning before I left. They were playing girl in red, rupaul, that girls/girls/boys song by Panic! at the disco, and that Taylor Swift song “You need to calm down” that some people on this site complained was cringe. The lady next to me sang along to “shade never made anybody less gay.” I bought a baseball hat.

It’s easy, I think especially if you’re very online and not very active in your local community, to start feeling like there’s no queer community in your area and we’re outnumbered by people who hate us. Unless you live in the middle of Westoboro Baptist territory that’s generally not true. I cannot stress enough how incredibly conservative and red my area is. We’ve got like 3 very loud people with nothing better to do who bother us at every event, and large amounts of people across all demographics who show up in support. I’ve been thinking about this post by @headspace-hotel about not being able to find stuff online and this is a slightly different thing but yeah. If you don’t know what there is in your area, you don’t know what you’re looking for or where to find it when searching online. If you search “is there queer stuff happening near me” google is going to shrug and recommend you Products And Services that it can Sell You. When I moved back home after spending some time in a much more blue state (but which had much less of a sense of community--I think it’s the way we band together down here when we know just what the stakes are) I felt like I was going to be the only trans person in the state, then someone mentioned to me that there was a local private facebook group for trans people to share personal posts and resources with many hundreds of members. There are more of us that aren’t on facebook. The Facebook group, though, introduced me to many more resources I hadn't known were in my area.

Get outside. Find some sort of local queer event and ask around. There will be other queer people. There is very likely something you’re interested in already happening or people who would love to work with you to start it if not. Even if you’re in a very red very rural state, you’re not alone, and chill or neutrally polite people vastly outnumber the few assholes, it’s just that the assholes are very loud and especially if you’ve been marinating in overwhelmingly toxic online environments it can feel like they’re everywhere. They’re not. Don’t give them that power.

The current legal landscape is terrifying and needs a lot of work but it doesn't reflect lived experiences. Get outside, find your local community, show up to in-person events if at all possible, it’s so encouraging.

[caraphernellie]

cowboy like me // e.w. [chapter one]

summary: a modern day princess living under outdated royal protocol in which your own existence is forbidden. in a typical state visit to strengthen your country's relations with the united states, you find it harder than ever to keep your sexuality secret when you meet the president's daughter, ellie williams, and sparks fly.

wc: 2.1k masterlist

content warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut. homophobia, governments, monarchy, politics. reader is specified as lesbian with she/her pronouns used for plot purposes i sorry, smoking, making out, femme! reader. u-haul lesbians fr. reader plays piano. ellie is a disaster lesbian lmaooooo. she's also super privileged and a bit of an ass. mostly based off of the british royal family in terms of royal protocol and all that shit, don’t kill me if things are inaccurate i’m not american, this chapter is more an intro to ellie's character and establishing tension

authors note: i'm so excited about this fic... but i might hate it in the morning so we'll see!! i've never read/watched red white and royal blue but it did inspire this fic (do not expect it to be anything like rwrb as i said i don't know what happens in it lmao). ellie's the president's daughter obvs. if your country doesn't have a monarchy just pretend there is one. if you're from the us then L 💀 play pretend

converse sneakers pelting across marble tiled floors with an onslaught of urgency, ellie makes her way through the halls. she stops at a mirror for a second, a muse in her mind– eh, good enough.

smoothing down flyaway hairs, ellie realises spending free time in the courtyard outside may not have been the best idea on a cool spring day such as this. the winter is still lingering, breezes battering the flag of red, white, and blue on the roof of the building as warm temperatures are still fresh. still- she needs as much a distraction as anyone else. as if procrastinating on something like homework, assignments, except the only thing ellie has done is make herself late to the introductory banquet of the royal family. all she knows is the president won’t be happy with her. 

bringing her wrist to her nose, ellie sniffs, though it’s less sniffing and more inhaling, trying to figure out if she has masked the smell of the cigarette she wasted or if she needs more cologne.

ellie’s caught by a housekeeper with her face stuck awkwardly into her suit jacket, furrowed brows as she inspects her own scent. pausing, a strained smile takes its place on chapped lips.

“he–”

“goodness, miss williams, you’re terribly late,” the housekeeper says, quickly approaching. “staff have been searching everywhere for you.”

“right,” ellie mumbles, straightening up her posture. “sorry. i’ll be on my way to the state dining room right now.”

approaching said room, ellie can already hear the fuss– loud and polite conversations, the snapping of photos, subtle classical playing over the speakers. christ, ellie thinks, how do i render myself invisible?

ellie’s worries ease the minute she steps inside, however, as the commotion isn’t around her own family today. it’s the royal family. and that realisation almost sparks up yet another mini freakout in ellie’s mind. she’s been looking forward to this for weeks, of course she has, a hot princess living in her home for an entire month..? that’s something she could get used to. but it’s real now, and just staring at you is sending a chill down ellie’s spine.

flash photography and yelling of the invited press is suffocating ellie as she ventures further into the room. she hasn’t even been noticed yet, thank god, so she decides to humbly busy herself at the table of finger food. until–

“ellie williams?”

a delicate voice smooth and sweet, ellie’s ears prick up to the sound of an accent unique and she knows exactly who this has to be.

fuck.

ellie makes quick effort to swallow the stupid cocktail frank she was eating and turns around, wiping her clammy hands on the ass of her slacks.

a princess standing right in front of her, of course these things only happen to ellie in her most cringeworthy moments. demolishing a table of finger food… what can she say? she’s an anxious snacker.

“ah-” ellie’s eyes meet your own and she gulps, extending a hand. “a pleasure to meet you, princess…”

get your head in the game, ellie. she clears her throat, putting on her famous, confident smile. and as you place your hand in hers, she acts purely without thinking, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. nobody was watching, but ellie drops your hand in an instant- is flirting with a princess the right move? even if it’s humorous?

your brain just about short-circuits, and ellie’s reeling. that was stupid, so stupid. acting on total whim.

the collar of ellie’s shirt feels too tight as she observes the split-second utter shock in your eyes, though she relaxes as you reward her a smile. and it isn’t that typical, media-trained smile, either.

“charming,” you murmur in response, eyes fixed on ellie’s piercing greens. however delighted you might be to be treated in this way by a girl like ellie, the way in which you hide it is effortless.

and charming, of course, is exactly what ellie is. messy, shirt creased and hair tousled and she honestly reeks of expensive cologne and faint smoke – but she has that handsome smile and that confident demeanour that the girls of washington d.c. fall for so easily.

“i hope so,” ellie says with an awkward chuckle, shoving her hands into her pockets. “that’s the aim of the game.”

you laugh similarly, politely, and make it as clear as possible to glance ellie up and down. “i’ll play.”

and the look on ellie’s face is plain silly at the least, her brows furrowed and eyes wide. “wh- uh..”

“say, it’s a little stuffy in here,” you say, gently fanning yourself, “you wouldn’t happen to know of any quiet spaces we could disappear to?”

ellie’s lips form a small o-shape as she processes the question. you want to be alone with her. a smirk crosses ellie’s face and she nods, “absolutely, your highness. my office.”

“would you be so kind as to show me to it?”

“of course, follow me,” ellie nods her head to the direction of the door. “we’ll have to sneak around.”

your heels click against the floor while ellie leads you down the hall, the sound a constant reminder to her that you’re actually walking alongside her. approaching a large door adorned by a gold plate with ellie’s name carved into it, she pulls a key from her pocket. and yet her eyes are on you the whole time.

the door clicks open and ellie holds it for you, only for her face to turn red when met with the sight of her office.

“excuse the mess,” she mutters, closing and locking the door behind the two of you. “i was uh, in here late last night. i had a speech to work on.”

“it’s alright,” you say, “some organised mess makes it homely.”

“right,” ellie nods. she’s beyond sensical thought now, just going along with anything you say. try harder. this is ellie’s issue, she eggs herself on too much, gets too overzealous, does things for the sake of doing them because her life has quite literally no direction if she doesn’t set herself these impossible dares. “just take a seat anywhere if you like. the couch is pretty comfy.”

ellie makes a pointless attempt to tidy some papers on her desk. she doesn’t necessarily do a lot of work here, though she enjoys being an activist, often writing speeches and finding causes to help others. though it did only begin in the first place as a way to increase the votes for her father’s party during the election- that doesn’t mean it isn’t genuine!

it’s just that ellie’s lazy ass needs pressure to do these things.

she gnaws her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, watching as you sit on the two-seater, eyeing the guitars along the wall of the office. “you play?”

“hm? no,” you say, watching ellie take a warm toned acoustic and sit beside you. “i’m a pianist, though.”

“pianist?” ellie chuckles, thumb stroking over each string of the guitar. “you’ll have to play for me sometime.”

you nod, watching intently as ellie begins playing a quiet tune. she can’t help but notice your rigid, straight posture. she can’t tell if you just have great posture, or if you’re uncomfortable.

but, noticing your eyes lingering over her nimble fingers as they pick at the guitar, ellie’s lips curl upwards just slightly.

she knows well when she’s got a girl worked up. she’d never expected the princess to be this easy.

“music is just beautiful,” you say with a small nod, again, that genuine smile small as ever on your lips insecurely. “nothing like it.”

“you think so?” ellie muses, and when you manage to finally stray your eyes from her hands, you meet ellie’s own soft gaze. “because i think… even the most beautiful ballad couldn’t compare to the solid view i got right now.”

you scoff, turning quiet as heat fills your cheeks. your brows furrow as you tilt your head a nod to the side, studying ellie’s features, searching for any hint of dishonesty. and it’s like she can tell that, with your gaze silently begging her to not be messing with you- she turns her expression more serious.

“you’re something else, williams,” you retort, though adjusting yourself a little closer. knees touch, and you don’t flinch away.

“yeah?” ellie grins. the room goes silent, ellie no longer continuing to play her tune. the guitar on her lap, she rests her chin over it. “something good, or something bad?”

there’s a more subtle smirk on her face now. she begins to move, setting the guitar down and leaning it against the couch as she shifts even closer.

“mmm…” you think for a moment, a smaller expression of interest visible across your features. “something that my head tells me is not a good idea, but my heart says is just fine.”

how the fuck did i get here, ellie wonders? she’s running on pure luck at this point. stumbled in late and somehow she’s got a princess way in over her head.

and ellie doesn’t leave you waiting a moment longer– the second you lean closer she’s grabbing your head and meeting your lips in a fervent kiss, one you gasp into and immediately lean into, hands falling into place with one on her chest and the other on the back of her neck.

pulling away breathlessly, ellie chuckles a bit and shrugs her shoulders, “eh- oops?” she looks almost embarrassed by her own reckless act. “sorry.”

there’s too much going on for you– just too much in your head. your first kiss, the first other lesbian you’ve ever met. her words get you weak in the knees, yet she gets just as flustered by her own actions which seem to only ever work on impulse. so you start laughing, and you can’t stop.

ellie herself laughs a little, watching you giggle at her pink face as you lean into the back of the couch and hold up a cushion to hide your face. it’s all snorting and snickering and ellie’s face is getting redder.

she snatches the cushion out of your hands and raises a brow at you, “if you keep being that cute i’m gonna–”

“sorry,” you laugh, “sorry-”

ellie can’t help but notice how much it seems like you really needed this laughing fit, the way it’s instantly relaxed you…

“that’s it,” she mutters with a chuckle, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. “c’mere.”

the yelp of surprise that ellie’s movement elicits has her beaming, holding you on her lap. she rests a hand on the back of your head, the other cupping your ass. it’s indecent, indelicate to touch a princess like that, and yet you’re not stopping her. ellie’s already found herself addicted.

because this time ellie lets herself just go, pressing her lips to yours. she swipes her tongue over your bottom lip, grunting as you gasp. with your lips parted she slips her tongue into the kiss. she isn’t just kissing you, she’s devouring. she’s making sure not to leave an inch of your mouth unexplored, nor will she allow it for your body, getting rather handsy. every pretty little sound you breathe motivates her to continue, pulling you back in every time you pull back for air.

a hand slides under your dress, gripping your thigh, the other squeezes your breast before gliding to the curve of your ass, and she slumps into the couch. her boxers are growing uncomfortably wet and she needs to do something about it, hold you down on her desk and–

a key turns in the door and her eyes snap open, as do yours. not a single word is said but the panicked look you share tells all as you move back onto the couch beside ellie, smoothing down your dress. she grabs her forgotten guitar and moves it onto her lap.

and in mere seconds, the door opens to reveal a housekeeper who had used the master key to get in. and she’s clueless, though a little discomforted by the taut smiles you and ellie offer.

“sorry to interrupt you, ladies,” she offers awkwardly. “nobody has seen either of you in a long time, it was requested by president williams that we search the place.”

“ah,” ellie muses, clearing her throat before her voice can come out as weak as it feels. “i understand. we’re alright, yes, sorry, um… we needed a quiet place.”

sitting there with that prim and proper posture once again, your leg crossed over the other, you stare at ellie, resisting the urge to reach over right now and fix her hair after having ran your hands through it with desperation.

this is going to be an interesting state visit.

tag list (msg me or find my tag list in my pinned post if u want to be tagged!!): @dinasvampgf

🙈🙈 omg this fic..

[genderkoolaid]

was gonna make a funny post abt people's reactions to the blue-green gay flag but ive thought about this too much and now im mad.

the current most popular lesbian flag, the one by emily gwen, was made in 2018 on tumblr. i remember before that seeing the lipstick lesbian flag everywhere, and now its very common to see emily gwen's flag used as the official lesbian flag.

so why is that not cringey or terminally online? why is seeing the blue-green flag being used in an official capacity a "oh my god no one but young online transmascs know about this flag why are they using it" thing instead of like. simple recognition that our cultural symbols grow and change. why is the lesbian flag allowed to do that but an alternate flag for gay men is erasing our history or being divisive. no one is forcing you at gunpoint to only use that flag and never ever look at the gilbert baker flag. are gay men not allowed to make new things. i'm sure your hatred for this flag has nothing to do with any underlying negative feelings towards transmasculinity. because any sort of culture built by gay trans men isn't real gay culture if cis guys aren't involved.

edit: sorry i wanna that the og blue-green flag was made in 2019. its literally a single year younger than emily gwen's flag. it also does have color meanings, and yk whats funny? i have never seen anyone give emily gwen shit for having an entirely warm-colored flag. even though its not all pink, its all warm/red shades. sorry is that not problematic because it reinforces gender roles. is the trans flag also bad. why do all these complaints of "its stolen" "its ugly" "its divisive" only come up when gay trans men are making the thing. hey. hey. come back here and answer me

[harusaki-hugo]

Hello! I just saw your requests open i wanted to ask how would yandere: sanzu, hanma, ran and kakucho (separately) react to reader that is also yandere for them if not more? Thank you 💗🫶

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Characters: Sanzu, Hanma, Ran and Kakucho. Genres:Yanderes Note: Ah, yes red flags trio. Kakucho is green flag forever in my heart, shut up. also, i don't know if you want hcs or short story so i make hcs. I might overdo this T-T

Sanzu Haruchiyo:

Sanzu is quite a picky at choosing his lover, he wants, no, he needs someone who similar to mikey. If Mikey his king, you either his queen/monarch or someone he tolerates.

The only reason he dates you at first mostly because of amusement, just some pawn for him to play. He accepts your confession because he thought you are easy to manipulate and he need it to stay out of police ranges because, well, mucho.

And boy he thinks he hit the jackpot because you are the most loyal and dumbest pawn he ever sees, you agree with everything he said, go along with everything he does, hell, you even turn your eyes away from the crimes he does.

At first, he thought that he keeps you around because you are a perfect alibi to use but slowly, he starts falling in love with you. like deeply in love, his amusement turns into obsession, from pawn to his new king/queen/monarch.

He now become extremely loyal to you, he become nicer and touchier, and do everything that you want. He will kill anyone who dare looking at you or has slight interest on you. He already claims you and there's no way he going to let you go.

But he never expects that one day you present him the head of the girl who insult his scars. Smiling proudly as you hold the head, a crazed look on your eyes that rival, no, more than him.

He now realizes that from the start you date him not because you found him interesting, no, you worship him more than he worships you. If he thinks of you as king/queen/monarch, you see him as a god.

You been killing all the people around him without even leaving a single trace or suspicion. You take care of his problem before he even knows about it, you make a shrine of him, you have a room with his pictures, you memorize his schedule, you know where he goes because you already put a chip on the mask he always wears.

Sanzu has mixed feeling about this, but he knows one thing, he f*cking love you.

Hanma Shuji:

For Hanma, you are just some random kid who always stalking him. Following him everywhere he goes and secretly take his picture, he thought that you were some gang informants or something, so he let you follow him around.

He thinks it's cute and adorable that you think he didn't know you follow him, the way you try to hide around the corner or act dumb. It's flattering that someone give him this much attention, and honestly, he starts catching feeling. Just a bit. Okay, like a bit too much.

When you not around following him, Hanma can't help but feel jealous and angry that you not there to pay attention to him. But if you appear again next day, his mood brightens that even kisaki weird out by it.

He became obsesses with you to the point he follows you back home, before you can close the door, he appears behind you and force himself inside your house. Telling you that next time you can just talk to him as he walks in, but his words die on his tongue when he sees that your whole house filled with his pictures.

There is a shrine with his picture and the things he throws away, hell, even the shirt with blood. He then sees that there's wall full of his past enemies that mysteriously disappear after losing a fight with him. All of them are now dead.

Oh, oh~ if he like you before he loves you now. He realizes that you are perfect for him. Someone who worship him to the point that you willing to be his slave. To do everything he order you. Surely you won't mind if he stays here, right? After all, why bother take a picture when you have the real one in front of you~

Haitani Ran:

You are Rindou friend who somehow always following the younger haitani around. Rindou sometime bring you back to home to hang out with, so ran thought that you are his brother side chick or something. Turn out you and Rindou are really good friend, you two meets when you stay at his side when he blacks out from drinking too much and you two just click from there.

Ran don't really care as long you didn't hurt his brother but his opinion on you changes when you buy him favorite Mont Blanc from expensive bakery in Tokyo. "They our friend now, rin." Ran say as he munches on the dessert.

Day by day, Ran start getting interest on you. You like the perfect friend, you know when to come so you didn't disturb his sleep, not making too much noise, buy him food every time you visit. He starts thinking, is this how it feels having a lover? He slowly getting obsesses with how you treat him and start falling in love with you and now he the one follow you around that even Rindou can't hang around with you without Ran sitting in the middle.

Luckily Rindou know that his brother smitten with you, so he uses this chance to leave you with his brother while he goes out drinking. So, like now every time you come to their house, rindou leave you with Ran. This becomes routine, heck, Ran even drag you with him to his room for a nap every time he feels like it, treating you like his personal teddy bear. So, you guys like, dating now? Yup, dating.

"You know, i never told them anything about you." Rindou exclaim one day, "I never told them you name or your sleeping schedule. Thinking back, when we first meet, they know my name already."

So, Ran and Rindou decide to follow you home and break in when you not home because they can. And much to their surprise are that your room are filled with Ran pictures from age 10 to the time they two being send to juvenile detention center and after they get out. There also a list of his enemies and half of them mark red and dead. Ran then realize that you been stalking him ever since he safe you from those bully long time ago, no wonder you look familiar. Usually, he will get creep out with this thing but it's you, the one he obsessed with. If anything, he feels flatter and proud that you love him to this point.

So next day you visit him, he told you how he loves you more now and want to stay with you forever.

Kakucho:

You, Takemichi and him are childhood friend. Well, more like he like you and Takemichi is wingman since he lives near you. Before he got in accident, he plans on telling you his feeling, but he lost contact with you after he is sent to orphanage. He thought that like Takemichi you forgot about him too, so he often stays away from you after finding out that you still live in the same house.

The only reason he finally sees you are because Izana getting annoyed of him disappear every day just to stalk you from far, so taking a lead he kicks Kakucho toward you when you walk down the road. Imagine how happy he is when you call out his name in surprise when you see him, you didn't forget about him even after he got a scar on his face.

Izana who wants the best for his servant allow him to take one month off from Tenjiku so he can spend time with you. And boy, he uses those days off wisely. Catching up with you, taking you out and make sure that he stays close to you, so you won't leave him again.

What make him happier that you confess to him, that you too like him since you two a kid. So now you two dating, and boy, he become more clingier to the point he drags you around even in Tenjiku meeting which Izana kick him.

One day you told him that you have business outside Tokyo, and it take a week for you to return. So Kakucho drag Izana to your house with excuse that someone might break in and that someone is him. He just wants your shirt because he misses you.

Imagine Izana and Kakucho reaction when he sees that your room are filled with pictures of him. Pictures of him and you, torn up pictures of him with what seem like Takemichi, pictures of him at orphanage, pictures of him with Izana. Turn out you been stalking him since forever, you also manage to find the orphanage he in and stalk him there.

Izana found a list of Tenjiku enemies on your wall, half of marked dead and half being torture. If Izana didn't approve you two reaction he is now. Which make Kakucho happy because his king approve his lover.

Next week you come back home, Kakucho greet you happily and told you how proud he is with you and how he loves you.

[yawnderu]

Attention — Keegan P. Russ x Fem!OC

Using my queens @moosch's OC Nameless for a trade we made! Go check out her amazing drawing of K-9 as an OC and her art<3

Life works in mysterious ways. One day you're helping kill 500 enemies with your bare hands alongside your comrades, and the next one, you're cuddling up to a tiny brat rescued from no man's land 3 years ago.

Keegan's hold tightened on her, hand running gently up and down on her back as she returned the favor, a much smaller hand tracing lazy circles on his back while they laid next to each other. It was one of the few moments of peace they could get, both as touch starved as they come and with a need to keep someone close.

His mind was blank for once, void of all the gunfire and images of the devastating non-stop war, simply focusing on what another person's warmth felt for once. His lips lightly touched her forehead as his eyes closed, taking a deep breath and holding onto her like a lifeline, making sure not to hurt her. It doesn't take long for Keegan to fall asleep, relaxation taking over his body before he realizes it.

He wakes up to an empty bed, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the realization that Nameless is no longer by his side. He gets out of bed hesitantly, stomach rumbling as he makes his way to the kitchen. A small smirk tugs on his lips as he sees Nameless struggle to get something out of the cabinet, approaching her before anyone else does.

''Hey there, little one... need help with getting this from the top shelf?'' She tenses up when his warm, big hand makes contact with her head, hesitantly turning around to look up at him. All he can do is offer him a smile so kind and nice that instantly makes red flags go off in her head, though she gives him the benefit of the doubt.

Keegan grabs the box she was trying to get, holding it close to her before pulling it out of her reach when she tries to grab it. His smirk grows wider when he sees the expression on her face, a slight grimace mixed in with frustration at his annoying behavior. He only relents once he sees the frown on her face as she she's about to turn around and go tell Elias he's bothering her again.

''Wait.'' The bastard was clearly holding back his laughter at the fuming expression on her face, a few chuckles managing to escape out of his lips even when he was trying not to.

''Here.'' He offered her the box and this time— despite the temptation— didn't pull it away. He noticed the fishing rod hanging over her shoulder and the stare she gave him for a few seconds before grabbing the box. He simply nodded his head, starting to get ready himself, a rifle thrown over his shoulder. What kind of man would he be if he's not there to protect the young girl? Bullshit, he just enjoys being annoying.

He grabbed a book on the way out, knowing he'd just let her fish in peace while he's keeping watch, making sure no enemies sneak on them despite the area being relatively safe.

''Let's go.'' She follows after him, staying quiet the entire walk and simply looking everywhere around her. The area was surrounded by nature, enough to give them privacy and cover in case anything goes down. They make their way to a lake Nameless found on one of her many expeditions, Keegan sitting down near the shoreline as he watches her remove her shoes, soaking her feet in the water.

''A young girl walked to the witness stand.'' He began reading, her attention now on him as she tilted her head, looking at the book he was reading. To Kill A Mockingbird.

''As she raised her hand and swore that the evidence she gave would be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help her God, she seemed somehow fragile-looking,'' He looked at her with a small smirk, making her roll her eyes and a small chuckle to leave his lips as she got knees-deep into the water, trying to find fish she could miraculously catch with her hands.

''but when she sat facing us in the witness chair she became what she was, a thick-bodied girl accustomed to strenuous labor.'' There's a small smile on his face as he reads to her, voice deep and leveled to make it more pleasant.

''In Maycomb County, it was easy to tell when someone bathed regularly, as opposed to yearly—'' He's interrupted by water splashing, baby blue eyes looking up just to see her holding a big carp in her hands, a bright smile on her face as she looked at it as proud as one could be.

''Attagirl!'' He put the book away, leaning closer to ruffle her hair despite her silent protest, a smile on his face matching hers. Not even Keegan being annoying on purpose could ruin her happiness at catching the damn thing on accident.

''C'mon, I'll cook it. Think you can catch another one?'' Keegan's annoying smirk was all the motivation she needed to take the challenge.

[humansofnewyork]

“We’re unpacking it, little by little. She held us all together. Always made sure there was food on the table, always washed our clothes, always took care of me when I was sick.  But she was fierce when we were kids. She’d get angry with me, zero to a hundred, in a second. I could never understand why. I know she had a tough upbringing: Guatemala, small town, no father. And I’ve had my own share of demons. It’s been a twenty-year struggle with alcohol. I would come over here completely blacked out, blasting music, acting like a dirtbag. There are neighbors in this building who still won’t talk to me. I also said some hurtful things to my dad. He wanted nothing to do with me in his final years. But I’m seven months sober now, so God willing we’re done with all that. Little by little I’m trying to be the man of the household. I’m suppressing old feelings and just trying to help her be comfortable. I’m not a good cook. But I kill it for breakfast. So on Saturdays I make breakfast: eggs, beans, bread, soup. She’s a very good soup eater. I try to get everyone seated at the table, and involve my daughters in the conversation. Afterwards I line up some good entertainment. She likes the television. When it’s warm I’ll take her to the park. A few months ago I brought her to a soccer game at the Red Bull Arena. It was Colombia vs Guatemala, too perfect. My father was Colombian, so we’re all half-and-half. I maxed out my credit card and bought the whole family tickets. It was unbelievable. A year ago I wouldn’t have even been able to enjoy it. I’d have been drinking beers nonstop. I’d probably have blacked out by halftime. But I was completely sober, watching the field, watching my family enjoy the game. My mom was loving it. She was cheering like crazy. Wearing her Guatemalan jersey.  Guatemalan flags everywhere, and lots of quetzals, the national bird. She was in heaven. I honestly think it was one of the best days of her life. Of course I’m seeing how happy she is, and I’m like damn. I only wish my dad was here to see all this.”

[muzansfangs]

Make up your mind.

Starring: Douma x f!reader ; Akaza x f!reader (love triangle).

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, cheating, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, manipulative behavior, dirty talk, language, slight bsdm, semi-public sex, morally grey reader, use of alcohol, poker, smoking, vaginal sex, remorse, dacryphilia, love triangle, dom!douma, sub!reader.

Plot: you had been dating Akaza for six months, when he decided to let you meet his friends. One of them, though, had set his eyes on you from the moment you first met. The allure of darkness, the red flags hanging from Douma’s back like a cape were a clear signal that you should have kept your distance. Despite that, he had you wrapped around his fingers. Slipping under was easy, way too easy, and before you knew it, he had half of your heart in his sinful hands. A twisted and toxic relationship blossomed. Your innocence was long forgotten and, when you kissed Akaza at the end of the day, before you went to sleep, you felt miserable.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

He had told you he was no good. He had told you to stay away from him, but you could not. Something about him, about the way he talked to you, flirted with you shamelessly and touched you, safe from your date’s eyes, had allured you to fall into his bait.

“He is Douma. My ‘friend’, you could say. He is a jerk, don’t mind his presence. Oh, and stay away from him” Akaza had said that infamous night, introducing you to the silver-haired man, eyeing you up and down from the stool he was sitting on. Ringed fingers, rainbow-colored eyes and a mischivious smirk curling his plumped lips, he was sipping a Bloody Mary absent-mindendly.

The moment you had entered the bar, his eyes were glued on you. He was a womanizer, chasing after ladies was his forte. Yet, there was something about you that he found irresistible. You were so gorgeous, tempting and you were not his. It irked him, the way you leant against Akaza’s shoulder as you slow-danced before his eyes, the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear and how you blushed when he kissed you. Dear God, it was maddeningly deplorable.

He could do better, you deserved better.

You tried not to pay attention to him that night. On the other hand, it would have been rude of you not to talk to him. You were kind, friendly, and the moment Douma noticed you walking towards him with a small, polite smile gracing your lips, he knew he had to take his chance.

“Woah, it looks like Akaza’s finally unleashed you. – he joked, pursuing his lips at you and gesturing for the barman to serve you – Order something, it’s on me” he added shortly, propping his chin on his hand and glancing at you from behind his dark, long eyelashes. He knew exactly what he was doing, he knew how to play his cards and you could sense something about him was off. Then again, you had just met him. Judging a book from its cover was something you were not used to.

You chuckled, your eyes darting on the man behind the counter briefly “A Cosmopolitan, please – you asked him, before locking eyes with Douma – As you can see there’s no collar around my neck” you declared, cocking your head to the side and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Ah, I see! – he beamed, nibbling at the rim of the glass to hide the devious smile curling his lips – Rather foolish of him not to put his pet on the leash. Pervs are everywhere… I could put one on you now, what do you say?” he teased you. You were still naive back then, you thought his flirty, antagonistic antics were just jokes and sarcasm, but it was not. He had not even tried to hide his interest in you right from the start.

“Are you hitting on me?” you asked, quirking your eyebrows up.

Douma grinned, downing the rest of his drink hastily “I don’t know, sweetheart, am I? – he said, tucking his hand into the back-pocket of his ripped jeans to take his wallet out – Does Akaza know you are chatting with me?” he inquired, slamming some dollars on the counter to pay for your drink. His voice was soothing, despite the devilish, dark undertone.

You blushed and flashed a thin-lipped smile at the barman, sliding the cocktail in your direction “Why? Are you really that bad?” you replied, bringing your lips to the glass to take a sip of the pinkish, alcoholic substance.

His eyes clouded over, his hand reaching up to straighten his necktie as he gestured for you to follow him “Come with me. – he chimed, hopping down from his stool and glancing over his shoulder to check on Akaza – I had promised some gentlemen over there to attend a poker match. Wanna be my lucky charm for the night? I don’t bite harshly” he said, winking at you and stressing the last word way too much for your likings. He had avoided your question.

He was mysterious, magnetic, his charm overwhelming. You pondered his offer, your grip on the glass tightening even so slightly. Your eyes searched for your boyfriend, scanning the overcrowded dance-floor in hope to lock eyes with him. But you could not see him. Maybe, you should have declined Douma’s offer, the echoes of Akaza’s words were still ringing in your head, but you thought it was his goofy way to interact with his friend.

You did not want to be alone in that place. Knowing Akaza’s friend better could have not harmed you in any way, right?

“Alright, let’s go! But, if you win, we split the gains” you agreed then, complying his request. A glint of malice sparkled in his eyes, but it was too dark for you to notice, or maybe it was the way his fingertips grazed the small of your back, once you were next to him, to distract you. His touch was far from gentle, it was subtly lascivious. Walking towards the huge, green table at the corner of the bar, you could not help yourself but feel like he was leading you straight into the wolf’s den.

He was self-assured, enticing, the smug smile on his face never faded. You sighed, half-lidded eyes peeking down at the cards on the table, as he ducked his head down towards you. His breath fanned your earlobe and you faltered, accidentally spilling a few drops of your drink on the exposed skin of your thigh.

“Careful, darling – Douma murmured, his hand sneakily slithering down your leg, until his thumb reached the wet spot beading your smooth skin – It’s curious how the cards show me two kings and a queen, isn’t it?” he purred, suavely brushing his finger against your tender flesh to collect the droplets.

If you thought it was a bold move, making you flinch, hands shaking under his sinful touch, and forcing you to settle your glass on the table, not to drop it on the floor, what he did next made you question for how long he had been planning this. Mouth agape, you watched the way he brought his thumb up to his plumped lips. His tongue swirled over it, collecting the fruity, alcoholic substance, while he never broke the intense eye-contact he had made with you.

Your cheeks flushed up, your heart thrumming against your ribcage although you should have slapped him and left him there, alone. You could not move, you were paralyzed. Zoning out, you hesitantly averted your eyes from him. The voices of the men laughing, cussing at the table, the smoke flinging all around you and the music playing a soft tune through the speakers seemed so distant. You felt dizzy, ashamed, worried. Where was Akaza?

You stood up, not bothering to warn your boyfriend’s friend about your sudden decision to go out and look for him. You needed Akaza, but you also needed some fresh air. What had happened at the table? What had happened with Douma?

You stumbled down the dance floor, pushing people out of your way, until you finally reached the door. The cool summer night grazed your naked back, but the heat on your cheeks was still yet to cool down. Douma was no good. He was insanely poisonous, dangerous, deadly.

You walked down the sidewalk, hoping to finally spot Akaza, but he was not there. He was not there and your head was spinning. You leant against the wall, dazed, your hand diving into your purse in search for your phone, but just before you could tap on Akaza’s number, a tall figure loomed over you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your back flattened against the wall behind you in a pathetic attempt to distance yourself from him, from his captivating multicolored hues. He hummed, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. He seemed to be about to devour you, the way he patently stared at you, the way he chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. He was definitely enjoying the view of you, a little girl, scared of him.

His aura seemed to strangle you. Nothing about him was good, nothing. His villainous intents were plastered over his handsome face, present in his sugarcoated words, in his sardonic smile.

A sadist. He was a sadist.

“What do you want from me?” you breathed out, averting your eyes from him.

Douma scoffed, feigning offence at your words “I was checking on you, love. – he cooed, cocking his head to the side – And, for the records, I was also going to tell you that I’ve won”.

“You won?” you breathed out, switching the topic of your conversation on something else. However, you regretted it, as he took a step forward. Then another. You watched his expensive shoes approaching you, you felt the cold droplets of sweat running down your back, while you realised that there was no where to run.

His silvery hair glowed under the dim moonlight and, once he was right in front of you, his hands reached out, resting flatly against the wall and caging you between the his strong arms.

“I play to win. – he whispered, his breath fanning your lips, reminding you that mere inches divided your mouths – And I always fucking win. It’s factual, love” he added, one of his hand flying down to your hip and stroking it in a way you hated to love in that very moment.

He was crawling under your skin.

“You need to stop” you hissed, through gritted teeth.

“Stop what, love?”.

“Stop calling me ‘love’, you jerk” you snapped, wrapping your hand around his wrist in a mere attempt to push him away from you. No matter how hard you tried, though. You did not even manage to make him take a step back. On the contrary, he sneered at you, his hand roughly grasping your jaw as he forced you to keep the eye-contact with him.

“Easy there, love. – he said, quirking his eyebrows up – Why does it bother you that much, huh? Oh, wait, I got it… Is this how he calls you when he fucks you? Ah, there it is. That’s the look I was—….”.

It was enough. You were done with him, with the things he said, with the way he was messing with your head in a way you did not think could be possible for a first encounter. What was that? How could he do that?

You watched the way his head snapped to the side for the harsh impact of your hand smacking his face. He grinned, leaning back and allowing you to finally sneak away. Watery eyes and heavy breaths leaving your lips, you jogged towards the entrance of the bar, only to hear him call after you.

“Bye, Y/N”.

You met him again at a dinner, a week later. He apologized, but you were one hundred percent sure he did not mean it. You saw the way he avoided to meet Akaza’s gaze, you saw how he had darted his eyes away from you two, when your boyfriend got tipsy and kissed you passionately on Muzan’s couch.

He clenched his jaw, when you melted under your boyfriend’s touch. It should have been him, he knew how to please you. He just had to be patient. Nothing lasts forever and your love for Akaza would have expired in a few.

After a while, Douma drew a cigarette from his packet and made his way upstairs, to the terrace. He did not say a word, no one seemed to care anyway, but you did. You watched him disappear from your sight, while running your fingers through Akaza’s hair. He was in the middle of a serious conversation with the raven-haired man and you were actually getting rather tired of it.

Out of curiousity, you planted a kiss on your boyfriend’s temple and told him you were going to call your mother for checking out on her. It was a lie, obviously. Then again, what could you do? The thrill of the hunt, the thrill of knowning him better was unbearable. Also, you needed answers. What did Douma want from you?

“Don’t worry, dear. Take your time” Akaza told you, squeezing your hand reassuringly, before turning his attention back at Muzan.

You shot an apologetic glance at them, before grabbing your phone and ambling towards the marble steps, leading you to the unknown, to the dark prince keeping you wide awake at night. You found him at the terrace, for some obscure reason you felt like he had been waiting for you. His cigarette hanged from his lips, his elbows resting on the railing as his back faced the city-line. The night breeze made his hair swing around his sharp visage, as he glanced at you standing on the veranda.

“Hello again” he uttered, taking the cigarette between his index and middle finger.

You nodded your head at him, discarding your phone on a nearby table “Hi” you simply said, folding your arms against your chest.

It was hard not to think about what had happened a week ago. Things should have been odd between you two, yet nothing weird or inappropriate had been said or done. At least, until now. Your shoulder brushed against his one, as you joined him at the railing, and you shivered. Oh, how badly you wished it was for your poor choice of items.

“What’s happened? Wait, let me guess, the king of hearts bored you stiff” he broke the ice, exaling through his nostrils. He resembled a dragon, his seraphic demeanor only fueling your imagination.

You narrowed your eyes at him, propping your chin on the back of your hand “And I assume you are the king of spades ready to save the night, aren’t you?” you sarcastically commented, smiling faintly, as he chuckled and put out the cigarette on the railing, before throwing it away.

“The king of hearts is overrated, rather tedious…” he trailed off, eyeing you up and down slowly. You were frustrated. Reading him was impossible. He was the most enigmatic person you had ever met.

Douma cleared his throat, circling you until he was standing right behind you. You stood there, frozen, heart skipping a beat in anticipation, when he pressed his chest against your back. His cold hands danced over your hips, his mouth hovering over your ear, as he whispered his scandalous proposal to you.

“Would the queen like the king of spades to show her what he can offer to her?” he purred, earning a gasp from you, when he roughly grasped your waist and ground his groin against your ass.

He was crossing the line. You were letting him touching you like that. It was not like the night you slapped him across his face. No. It was different. You were resilient, you were tangled into the web he had had no trouble in weaving around you.

Douma hummed, his calloused hands slipping under the skirt of you dress, palming your thighs, your ass as he slowly let his fingers travel up to the waistband of your panties. What was he doing? It was a public place. Muzan, Kokushibo and Akaza could have walked in any minute. People down the streets could have seen you and your cheeks flushed up at the thought of being exposed to the world.

“Wait, let’s go inside, they could—” you protested, only for him to clasp his hand over your mouth and leave a trail of wet kisses down your jugular.

“Let them see. I want them to see. – he whispered, dragging your panties down your legs – Also, this is the exciting part, don’t you think?” he asked you, giving your hair a yank to make you arch your back for him.

You blushed, the metallic sound of his belt when he unbuckled it making you realize what you were about to do. You had always been a loyal partner, cheating was not in your nature. Then again, what was happening in that goddamn house? Why did you feel Douma’s shaft line up to your aching entrance, why were you bent over the railing?

In a swift motion, he entered you. A moan of pleasure fell from your lips, as his length stretched you out in a way Akaza had never done. Douma was feral, harsh with you, but pasionate. He groaned in your ear as he bottomed out, his hand wrapped around your throat to keep you in a firm chokehold.

“You should see your face now. Come on, love, why don’t you tell your boyfriend about the lewd faces I have made you do, huh? Tell him how your pussy has been owned by me, do it!” he pressed, watching as a tear fell from your lashes for the total lack of foreplay before the penetration. Despite it, though, you were soaking wet and your walls squeezed him up perfectly.

He kissed your temple, pulling out of you until just the tip was buried into your core “Oh, make sure you’re ready to swallow, because I intend to ruin your pretty little mouth too” he singsonged, before thrusting back into you.

You squirmed, batting your eyes close and holding onto the railing for dear life, as he pounded into you relentlessly. The pressure in your abdomen was coiling significantly, second by second, and you tried your best not to melt under his touch. In a minute, he had been able to find your g-spot, your spongy walls spasming around his shaft as you lolled your head back onto his shoulder.

“Make up your mind, love. – he rasped, connecting your lips for a sloppy kiss – If it’s him the one you want, the one you love, why are you here, letting me fuck you?” he inquired, as you climaxed around him. You moaned his name and it was enough for him to pull out of your core, watching as you deligently dropped to your knees and waited for him to spill his seed onto your tongue.

Douma smiled, his eyes transfixed on the tears peeking at the angles of your eyes as he shoved his length into your mouth and released his seed down your welcoming throat.

You told yourself it was the first and the last time something like that happened, but you knew it was a lie. During the night you snuggled onto Akaza’s chest, searching for comfort or redemption, but you were corrupted to the core. How could you still look at him in the face and tell him that he was the only one? How could you do it, when you had been having a secret affaire with Douma for three months?

So, when Akaza kissed your cheek, you pretended to be asleep, because you could not bear the sight of him whispering “I love you” against your lips.

From that day at the bar, you started to hate cards.

Author note.

Hello there!

Ding-dong, I’m on my highway to hell lmao xD. I hope you have enjoyed this twisted Douma’s fic. I am a whore for this man, sorry not sorry! Anyway, I dedicate this one-shot to the lovely @doumadono ❤️

I hope not to have failed your expectations!

[i-cant-sing]

how is f1 Dabi and Keigo doing??

Losing their minds because the temptation to lock you up and run Katsuki over and over with a fucking military tank until he's roadkill is getting harder to resist.

For now, Dabi is doing breathing exercises to control his anger around you while you're in bed with Keigo who's currently icing your ankle (that got twisted when you slipped off the stairs when you were trying to stop Dabi from killing your bf Katsuki).

Keigo had explained to Dabi how you were not at fault here. You're just their sweet child who just wants a relationship so bad that she can't see the red flags Katsuki has, only because you're always trying to see the good in people🥺 And sure, Dabi is all like "No! She's my daughter, I've raised her, and I've taught her better than to fall for bleached rats like that-!" And keigo just sighs and tells him to try to see it from your point of view.

He doesn't understand why Keigo is trying to defend you on this, the blonde hates Katsuki just as much as he does! Keigo has a soft spot for you, they both do, but he's always trying to make you seem faultless, always trying to save you from punishments. God knows the amount of times Dabi had to wipe both your and Keigo's tears whenever you were put in timeout as a child. It's like raising 2 kids.

Keigo's eyes softened. "I just don't want her to end up hating us, Dabi. The more we take her away from Katsuki, the more she'll want to be with him. Her heart- it's too pure and naive to understand that we're only looking out for her."

"Then what do you propose we do?"

Keigo smiled. Ah, Dabi always came around. "Well, we could try to keep her busy. Take her to the tracks, I'll take her to the company, have her help me with some designs. Meanwhile, ill take care of Katsuki. There are legal ways to ruin his life. Immoral, but legal. Smear campaigns, drive his public image to the ground until Y/n leaves that pest herself."

Keigo wrapped his arms around Dabi, rubbing his back as he gazed into his eyes lovingly. "We could even take a loooonng vacation- I mean, we have homes everywhere. I hear Monaco is good this time of the year, hm?" Dabi nodded. He loved Monaco, and you loved travelling.

Dabi kissed Keigo, resting his forehead against his. "You spoil us both too much."

Keigo tilted his head.

"Only the best for my babies."

[misguidedasgardian]

I want to steal the bride (2)

2. Desserts, Yi-ti and old things

MASTERLIST

Summary: Aemond finds himself without you for the first time in ten years, so he starts to realize certain things 

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x BestFriend!Reader, Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Aemond goes around hehe, Criston is sort of a red flag, but that is nothing new, since its an adaptation of the movie, I will be using sort of stereotypes, and there are some jabs about marriage and married men in this part.

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Disclaimer: This is a direct adaptation of the movie “Made of honor” and its script! also the pictures of the header aren’t mine, I took them from Pinterest 

Notes: UPPSSSS

It hasn't even been a week, and Aemond already missed you terribly, he had barely spoken to you, you whined with him about not getting service anywhere, and you were almost always disconnected from him

But he had his weekly meeting with his friends and his brother, and he was ready to play basketball and keep his mind off of things for a while

He met with his brother Aegon, and his friends Criston and Adam Velaryon 

“So, how was the old man’s wedding?”. teased Aegon

“You would have liked it, the bride I mean”, he muttered while tying up his laces of his shoes 

“What was this one? the fifth?”

“Sixth actually”, he said, Aegon chuckled

“For the gods!”, he laughed, “I’m guessing you went with Looooove”, he teased

“Yes, next wedding you go instead please”, he said seriously

“Oh please, you love to find any excuse to take her everywhere”, he mocked, they walk back towards the group and find the guys arguing

“I'm not gonna be able to play today, man. My back”, whined Addam

“If we don't have a fourth, we're gonna end up with Tiny Shorts Guy”, complained Criston

“How's it going?”, Larys Strong appeared with a basketball in his hands, he was known on the court for not being very handy with the ball, and for wearing booty shorts when he played, it was not pretty, “need another?”

“No, our friend Ramsay, with longer shorts, is coming”, said Aemond, he laughed and left, cleary not getting the hint

“No he is not coming!”, remembered Addam, Myranda signed him up for some art-walk thing”

“Art walk? Are you serious? Tell me something, what do you think Myranda did with his balls when she cut them off?”, mocked Criston

“Gods”, mocked Aemond, I go to art walks with (y/n) all the time”, he defended 

“Oh, come on, guys, marriage isn't that bad”, defended Addam

“I agree”, said Criston, playing with the ball in his hand, “without marriage, there'd be no divorce. So, without divorce, I wouldn't have my condo in the Vale”

“There you go”, laughed Aegon, “Good one” 

“I'm serious, man. You're missing out on the best parts of life”, continued the only current married man in the group, now speaking only to Aemond and Aegon, “the most important part of life”

“This coming from the guy whose wife won't let him go to bars”, said Aegon

“Hey, I thought we weren't gonna talk about that, huh?”, he said back, “and besides you are you to talk?”, asked Addam, annoyed, “you are single and you've been single ever since… What was her name, in sophomore year?”

“Um, Cer-, Cerse….Ceresse!” said Criston mockingly, everyone laughed, except for Aegon

“Ceresse, that's it!”, laughed Addam, “Ceresse dumped you for him sophomore year”, he mocked pointing at Aemond

“You've never been the same. You haven't been able to sleep”, mocked Addam

“Scarred”, mocked Criston

“Yeah. You have no idea how nice it is to have someone who's gonna be there for you, no matter what, forever”, concluded Addam

“And you don't know how nice it is to sleep with a different girl every night”, snapped Aemond

“That's true”, said Criston

“Nice rebuttal”, peached in Larys

“You know, you got the best of both worlds, Aemond”, said Criston

“It's true. I can sleep with whoever I want, but I still get to hang with (Y/N) afterwards. It's a perfect setup”, he said with the brightest of smiles, only thinking of you

“Well, maybe not for her”, muttered Addam, Aemond’s smile got wiped out pretty quickly

“What's that supposed to mean?”, he asked

“Come on, Aemond. She's a woman”, continued Aegon

“Yeah, I got that”

“You sure?”, mocked Criston

“Yeah”

“Dude, she's pushing 30. You think her idea of happily ever after is coming home to you and hanging out after you got laid?”, mocked Aegon, Aemond frowned 

“Makes you think, right?”, asked Larys, sneaking into the group

“Yeah”, nodded Addam

It did made him think

You had never shown yourself annoyed when he discussed his conquests with you, you loved hanging out with him on fridays, and… anytime, yes you were annoyed when he asked you to go to his grandfather’s weddings with him, but… anyone would, right?

With a sigh, he picked up the phone, and dialed you

It rang a couple of times, until you picked up

“Hello?”, he asked enthusiastically

“Hey”, you whispered lowly

“What’s going on?”, he asked, “were you sleeping?”, he mocked 

“Its very late here Aem”, you whined 

“How's the weather in White Harbor?”, he asked

“It's great. Only I'm in Winterfell”, he had woken you up, you were exhausted 

“Oh, right. Right”, his smile didn’t waver as he listened to your voice, “So, it's sunny”, he assumed 

“It's 3 in the morning”, you whined

“Oh, right. Sorry. So it's dark”, he said

“Yeah”

“Hey, have you seen the Big black wolf yet?”, he didn’t hear anything back, so he just dropped it, “I know, a terrible joke. Anyway…”

“Is there something important?”, you asked, falling asleep with phone in hand 

“Yeah, you'll never guess what happened”, he said with an enthusiastic tone

“What?”

“They filled in the pothole”, he said matter-of-factly

“The pothole?”, you asked, frowning

“On 83rd”

“Terrific. Hey, Aemond?”

“Yeah?”, he asked

“I'm gonna go back to sleep now”

“Oh, okay. Sure”, he said, finally catching on

“Love you”, you whispered, and Aemond jumped on his seat, it wasn’t the first time you had said it, but clearly it played with his mind

“Good night. Call me Tomorrow”, he said but you were already gone, and he hadn't said it back

He was more confused than before

He loves hearing your voice, and he missed you, but he didn’t know what to think, he didn’t even know what he was hoping for, what he expected with just one phone call, if that could give him more clearance 

It hadn’t

No, he shook his head, he couldn’t, no, he couldn’t

You were his best friend 

But his male friends were right, you… were a girl… a woman, you have had boyfriends before and it's not going to be long before you get another one, maybe one day you’ll get married…

The thought frightened him, he realized with surprise

The thought of being without you scared him to death

So he came to a conclusion…

A bad one…

He invited the last girl in his little black book, to meet her in the vintage store you both liked going to, it had to work… You were going to move on from him, and even though that scared him, he had to be prepared

He was with women all the time, he was going to prove everyone else wrong, he could get girl-friends….

“This stuff's all old”, Jeyne mumbled, looking everywhere, bored out of her mind

“Yeah. That's the point”, he answered, she looked back at him and shoot him a wink and a smirk

“Let's go to Fendi”, she said, perhaps it was a mistake to tell her how much he gained

“Fendi? No. No, no”, he said dismissively

“Yes!”, she shrieked 

“We're here. Let's just stay here”, he said, trying to convinced her

“I'm not into old stuff”, she whined like a little girl

“Why are you talking like a six-year-old?”, he said, immediately regretting his choice 

“I'm not”, she answered sharply

So the next day, he invited Floris to the famous bakery, to try his luck

“This line is too long. Can't we just go somewhere else?”, she asked, anoyyed

“No. This is the best bakery in the world. That's why it's worth waiting in line”, he said simply, but as she looked terribly annoyed, those stilettos she was weaning weren’t making her any favors to stay for two long on her feet, he tried a bit harder

“Come on, we'll play a game. Wanna play a game?”, that seemed to pick her interest

“Yeah, we can play a game”, she said, visibly more engaged

“Okay, good”, he said, now more confident, “Tell me what to order”, he teased

“Why?”, she asked back

“We are playing, that’s the game! you'll see. It'll be fun.Make a suggestion.

“A cookie”, she suggested

“No, no, you have to be specific, like what type of cookie?”, he pushed

“A really big cookie”

Alright this was a bad idea 

“Aemond, your phone's ringing”, said Alys Rivers, the girl he had been seeing every week, he ran back from the bathroom to pick it up, it was you! it had to be you

“Hello?”, he desperately asked into the phone, but there was no answer, only noise, “Hello?”, he asked, but no answer

“What's wrong?”, Alys asked when she say him sighing loudly and desperately

“Missed an important call”

“That's because you're an important person”, she teased. He looked at her, she was gorgeous, he liked having sex with her

“Do you like Yi-ti food?”, he asked curiously 

Half an hour later he was sitting on the same table he used to sit with you, and Alys was right in front of him

The cart was approaching and she smiled widely

“Hey, come to mama”, she giggled, “Uhh, we will have, um, two fried dumplings, two of the wontons, and six of the, uh, fried porky thingies”, she ordered

“Yeah, but that's fried”, he said, annoyed, once her order was on the table, she grabbed a fried piece with her chopsticks 

“Come on”, she teased

“It's not healthy”, he said seriously

“Have some of the fried. It won't hurt you”, she insisted, nearing the fried piece into his mouth. She dropped it, making the piece fall into his pants and staining them

She gasped apologetically

“Sorry…”

“Thank you”, he said, rolling his eyes

This was a bad idea 

It’s been weeks, he had dated, actually taken on dates, many women, and none of them, not one, had made him feel the way you do

He missed you

He realized there was no replacing you, there is no other woman he rather be with… and… that was driving him insane

So today he decided to calculate the hour properly, and call you early, it was nighttime still, but at a  night he knew you were going to be awake 

But it was a glitchy call, he knew it from the beginning

“Hello?”, he tried, rubbing his forehead

“Hey. Hello?”, your voice, so beautiful and melodic, it made Aemond feel like everything was well, like he was at peace, relaxed 

“Hello?”, he repeated, “Love?”

“Hello?”, you asked back

“Hey”, he said, excited of actually being able to talk with you

“Aemond? Aemond, is that you?”, you asked, “Aemond?”

“Hello?”, he asked, annoyed

You could barely hear him, you were on a two day trip to a castle on the outskirts of Winterfell, it started pouring, the road was a mess and you were surrounded by huge cows, they were everywhere

“Hello?”, you asked back, actually, the thought of hearing your best friend right now is just what you needed, but you couldn’t

“You're cutting out. I can't hear anything you've said”, you whined, “I'm stuck in a thunderstorm. I'm surrounded with a herd of cows. Listen, I'll call when I get to the hotel”, you tried to explain

“Love, I can't hear you”

“Aemond?”, you asked, “Hello?”

“Hello? Hello?”, you were interrupted, and hang up when someone knocked on the window of your car, you smiled apologetically, and found yourself in front of the most handsome man you had ever seen

“Oh Hello”

“You lost lass?”

. . .

“Oh, I hate Winterfell”, whined Aemond and threw his phone away to bag, it was basketball day again, and he need to get ready

But his mind was thousand of miles away

As the days passed he realized there was no other like you, you are the only one he liked to hang around with, he loved being with you, he… he loved you 

And the thought scared him

“C’mon C’mon C’mon!”, called Criston, but Aemond was barely able to move before Addam snatched the ball from him 

“We're having a hard time”, mocked Criston, “We're having a hard time”

“Oh, yeah? Want a hand?”, asked aegon, who got the bal and had no problem avoiding Aemond and threw a three pointer from half the court

“Give it up, baby”, he mocked

“Come on, Aemond. Aemond, Aemond”, called Criston, but Addam intercepted him

“Easy”, he mocked, Aemond tried to grab him, tired of failure

“Aemond, foul. That's a foul, Aemond”, called Aegon, “what's the matter with you today??”

“I don't know”, he whined, stopping in the middle of the court, “I think I might have feelings for (y/n)”

“Oh, come on, come on. Let's just play”, mocked Criston, but Aegon and Addam shared concerned looks 

“It's just... without her, something's off”, he explained, like it pained him, “It's got me thinking that, maybe, there's more to life than just sleeping around”

“I don't understand”, said Criston

“I-I'm not following”, muttered Aemond

“Come on, let's just play”, dismissed Aemond 

“I know exactly what you mean, Aemond”, said Addam with a shy smile on his face. Aegon and Criston shared concerned looks and passed the ball to each other

“I'm gonna tell her, when she gets home… I'm gonna tell her that I wanna be with her”, he said with a wide smile, “nothing about marriage, just be together”, Addam’s smile wiped out pretty quickly

“Yeah, that's romantic”, mocked Aegon

From hare, and for the next few weeks he still had ahead of him without you, he could breathe a bit more easy

. . . 

You have one unheard message.

A message from you! Aemond was so excited when he heard it

“Hey, Aem, I'm back. Gods, I cannot wait to see you! I don't care what you're doing tonight, cancel it. We're going to dinner”,  he smiled at the sound of your voice, this was going to be perfect, he knew exactly what he was going to say. “Meet me at that new trendy place next to the small Bravoosi  place we hated that used to be the Mantari-fusion place we loved. Meet me there, at 8 o'clock. I have so much to tell you!”

He had heard the voice message like eight times already while ha changed clothes, he was so so excited, he had his apartment cleaned, his suits pressed, his cologne, - the one you liked- stocked, his hair fixed, tonight, he was going to tell you that he had feeling for you, that he wanted to explore it further

With any luck, he was going to take you back to his palace for the night

You were going to be the first woman even going up there

And he was okay with that 

He entered the new place, it was very nice, as could turn into a date kinda nice, he looked at the flowers he bought on the street for you, and took a long breath as he told your name to the receptionist who led them to the back of the restaurant 

And there you were, gorgeous, like always

He could recognize you everywhere, anywhere 

But as he catched your glance and you smiled at him, you look back to someone else, and there it was, some guy, tall handsome, he hadn't seen him, instead he hugged you and kissed your neck

Fuck no

No no no no

Who was that?

he got so distracted that he didn’t see the waiter coming at him at full speed

They clashed scandalously, plates flew as the flowers and Aemond fell to the ground, not very elegantly, on top of the poor waiter

“AEMOND!”, you called, running to him. He was whining on the floor, “Aemond. You okay?”, you asked sweetly

“I'm all right. Are you all right?”, he asked, turning to the waiter who was moaning and wheezing in pain

“I think I broke a rib”, you helped Aemond up from the floor, and he smiled apologetically at you 

“His rib. I'm fine. I'm fine”, said Aemond, helping the poor waiter up on his feet, he was fine, he hoped 

“Are you okay?”, you asked to Aemond

“I'm so sorry”, muttered Aemond, the manager approached you

“I'm sorry, sir. Here are your flowers”, she said apologetically, trying to grab them front he floor

“Oh, but…”

“You had flowers?”, you asked him

“No, they're not my flowers”, he said dismissively

“They're your flowers. Those are yours”, said the waiter, grabbing his side

“I didn't have flowers”, fought Aemond, grabbing you softly and walking away from the scene. He finally turned to you and smiled

“Hi. It's good to see you”, he purred softly, his eye shining excitedly

“I missed you”, you admitted, hugging him quickly, “there's someone I want you to meet”

Aemond wanted to be the one that broke a rib

“Oh, good”, he said, not expecting you to notice the change in his demeanor 

“Aemond, this is Cregan”, there it was, this tall, handsome, beautiful man

“oh”, they shook hands, and Aemond didn’t know what to think

So fifteen minutes later, with a drink in hand, Aemond was pinching his own leg under the table, because he wanted to scream 

“It started pouring and suddenly it was just me in a field of cows…”, you laughed, Aemond watched in horror the way you were looking at that man, “of course, we're in the North there are no street signs anywhere and it's getting dark…”

“I think she thought she was in some bad werewolf movie”, he chipped in, and Aemond even hated to hear the sound of his voice, "Stay off the moors, lassie.", he continued

He only had eyes for you

“So, anyway, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Cregan comes riding up on horseback”, your eyes are finally back on him, so he had to muster a weird smile. You laughed excitedly, Aemond had never seen you like that, “Can you believe it?”, you asked him “A horse! And asks me if I need any help”

“Wow!”, he said, faking it, not that you’d notice 

“You were a lady in distress. What was I gonna do?”, he said, Aemond wanted to throw up

Dammit Cregan, we are in a public place! Aemond was sure that if a policeman would have been here he would have arrested him, for public indecency and being a creep

“It was right out of a Valyrian novel”, you said lovingly, you could see that Aemond wasn’t that invested, so you smiled at him, what he had said that you where a “love slut” came back to you, “So, anyway, he shows me to this charming little inn where he proceeds to buy me the most awful dinner I have ever had”, you said, with a bitter taste in your mouth

Probably Aemond thought this was stupid, that you were being silly 

“Right. Okay. Aye. It was pretty bad, even by Northerner standards”, Cregan agreed with you

“Then, we just spent the next month traveling around the country, getting to know each other, and visiting museums. It was…”, you sighed, looking into Cregan’s eyes

“It was perfect”, he said right there with you, looking into yours

“So, when it was time for (y/n)  to leave, I just… I don't know, I just… I couldn't let her go”, Cregan finally found it in himself to look at Aemond

“Ah…”, he muttered

“So, I got down on one knee…”, you smiled widely, showing Aemond your hand, and the huge rock that decorated your ring finger

“And he proposed, and I accepted”, you said excitedly

Aemond was never a man who let himself be controlled by his emotions, that being said, he never thought he even had a nervous breakdown, or a panic attack… until now

He felt his heart beating sot wrongly he thought he was going to pass out 

“Wow, that's just… It's huge, it's…”, he couldn’t stand it, his legs were getting numb

“So, the wedding's coming together very quickly”, you continued

Oh suit fuck, shit, he started looking for the emergency exit, couldn’t find it anywhere 

“Ah, it sounds like it”, he managed to say, his mouth was dry

“We're gonna get married in Winterfell, at Cregan's parents' summer home”, you continued, another nail on his coffin

“It's gonna be a pretty small thing. We can't expect too many people to make the trip overseas in just a fortnight”, Cregan chipped in

“A fortnight”, he said, trying to calm himself

“Right!”, you said

“That's two weeks”, he said seriously

“It's crazy, isn't it?”, you asked him, he seemed to notice how incredibly nervous you were

“Have you ever been to Winterfell, Aemond?”, asked Cregan

“You know, I haven't”, he said, trying to smile, but his cheeks were numb too

“You should see the little church where we're exchanging our vows in”, that smile on your face, Aemond’s heart broke, if he could be the one that caused it, it was so beautiful and bright, filled with love, “It's the same church that Cregan's parents were married in”

“It's pretty spectacular. Just across the loch from our distillery”, of course

“Distillery?”

“Yeah, Cregan's family owns the largest whisky distillery in the North”, you said with a knowing smile

Did you expect him to like this Cregan person?

“Aemond, look…”, oh shit, he thought, “If you were getting married I'd expect to be your best man”, you said surely, and he paled even more, “Aemond… will you be my maid of honor?”, you asked excitedly 

“Your maid of honor?”, he asked, it felt like the knife this Cregan guy had plunged into him, was being twisted, he got up, he needed to get out of this place, he needed to run,t o scream to

He turned and BAM

He crashed against the same waiter, both ended up in the floor covered in some warm soup

“Oh, I'm so sorry”, he whined

“WHAT IS IT WITH YOU MAN?”, he screamed high pitched

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@snh96 @sagelovesreading @toodlesxcuddles @ammo23 @bananzaa @ttkttt @at-a-rax-ia

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

But first: everyone kinda teasing Blake by making it a game, let’s find more and more, harder things for Yang to crush with her thighs!

Blake gets more flustered and jealous each passing thing

I can see this being hilarious and dangerous. I love it.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Sun: Hey, Yang! (Rummages in a bag and pulls out a fresh pineapple the size of his head with the green top cut to look like cat ears) Ten lien says you can't crack this in half with your thighs.

Yang: You're on, Monkey Man! (Places the pineapple between her thighs and breaks it no sweat, sending juices splattering everywhere and hitting her chin) Pay up!

Blake: (from a distance) By the gods...

-The Next Day-

Weiss: Yang, can you help me break open this pumpkin? (Holds up an absolutely monstrous gourd in two hands) I'd be willing to pay you a few lien if you can do it without your hands since everyone thinks you're a hot shot.

Yang: Oh, yeah! No problem! (Sits on the floor of the kitchen in her gym shorts, struggles to place the pumpkin between her thighs, and grunts and growls as she demolishes it) There you go!

Blake: (standing in the doorway, swallows hard as she stares at a seed plastered to Yang’s lower lip) Oh, come on.....

-One Week Later-

Ruby: Yang! Yang! Yang! (Holds up a bushel of apples) Bet you twenty lien that you can't crack twenty of these behind your knee in under three minutes!

Yang: (rips off her pants and stands proudly in her boxer briefs) Better start counting my lien now, little sister!

Ruby: (pulls out a stopwatch) In three... two... one... GO!!!

Yang: (Starts a rhythm of placing apples between the back of her thigh and calf every other leg and pops each one so fast that it sounds like Coco's Gatlin Gun going off)

Ruby: And that's twenty destroyed in one and a half minutes!

Yang: Hell yeah!

Blake: (watching with a beet red face from the kitchen window and biting her fist as a piece of apple slowly slides down Yang's calves)

Kali: I'm thinking apple pie would be a good dessert for tonight. Don't you?

Blake: MOM!!!!

-The Next Day-

Yang & Blake: (sitting and talking/flirting on the porch)

Kali: (walks up to Yang with a coconut the size of her head) Yang, dear, can I ask you a favor?

Blake: (notices the coconut) Dear gods, no.

Yang: Oh! Uh, sure thing, Mrs. Belladonna. What can I do?

Kali: Yang, dear, I've told you before. Call me Kali. (Holds up the coconut) I don't have the muscle I used to, so breaking one of these open for dinner tonight is a difficult task. Do you mind breaking it open for me?

Yang: Absolutely! (Holds hand up) Hand it over.

Kali: (pulls the coconut away a little) Actually, I was wondering if you could do it with your legs. Ghira and I have a bit of a wager going.

Sun: Same here!

Weiss & Winter: As do we.

Ruby: (holding up yellow flags that say Yang in black) Go, Sis! Go!

Emerald: (holding a money tray filled with cash in the distance) Place your bets! Can blonde crack open the coconut with her bare thighs? What's going to give first? The coconut? Yang’s thighs? Or Blake’s horny?

Blake: (mortified but can't pry her eyes away from the coconut)

Yang: Alright (to Emerald) But I want a cut of all that! I'm doing all the work! (Grabs the coconut, places it between her thighs, and with a roar of effort, cracks the coconut into half a dozen pieces. Coconut water spills all over her lap and splashes up her chest, neck, and face) Ha! Pay up!

Blake: (so red in the face she's nearly purple as her ears flick back and forth wildly) That's it! (Grabs Yang by the collar and drags her away) No one bother us for the next hour!

Yang: (confused and struggling to find her footing) Blake! Blake! What's wrong? What did I do????

Blake: I'm going to wear your thighs as earrings for the next twenty minutes, and then you're going to snap me in half.

[racinggirl]

breaking deals || charles leclerc (part 2)

type: two shot (part 2) - click here to read part 1 pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1.7k summary: being friends with benefits with a driver on another team has its ups and downs... requested: yes! “can you please write a fic where y/n is a driver, she's friends with benefits with charles, but when he confess his love she leaves. later on, she decides to give them a chance and the end is super fluff? please show her being super cute with him and breaking the news about their relationship on the paddock!”(by anon) Requests are OPEN!!! warnings: swearing (just a little), (mentions of) a crash, possible heartbreak, just loads of fluff. emotional rollercoaster, you've been warned. notes: a little later than planned, but it's here! part 2 :) I hope you all like it, don't forget to like, share, or comment. love you all <3

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‘’So you’re telling me you and Charles have been sneaking around for half a year now?’’ Lola, your best friend, just finished her pizza, watching and listening how you poured your heart out about the Ferrari driver. You simply nodded in response, playing with the – now cold – slice of pizza on the table in front of you. ‘’And why exactly did you tell him to leave? I mean, come on y/n, you obviously have feelings for him as well, I know you.’’

‘’That’s exactly the problem, Lo, I have feelings for him, but we can not be together.’’

‘’Aren’t you leaving Alpha Tauri next season?’’ She asked, her eyebrow raising as she sipped the diet coke she brought along with the pizza. You sighed, heavily. It was true, you and your manager had some meetings with different teams, other teams than Alpha Tauri, because who didn’t want the first woman in F1 in their team? Exactly.

‘’Yeah, but…’’ ‘’No, y/n, no buts, you like him, for gods sake, go for him, at least tell him how you feel.’’ Yeah, easier said than done.

You wanted to tell him, you wanted to be with him, but it almost felt like a Romeo and Juliet kind of story. You liked each other, hell you loved each other, but both sides you were on didn’t allow the two of you to actually be together. You at the blue side, him at the red side.

‘’I did have a meeting with Ferrari as well.’’ You mumbled to your friend, watching as her eyes widened, the pizza almost dropping to the floor. ‘’You what now?’’ She gasped.

The meetings you had with Ferrari actually were the ones you looked forward to the most, but also dreaded the most, because this meant avoiding Charles, lying to him, hiding things from him. The truth is, Ferrari wanted you, Carlos going back to McLaren to replace Daniel, who would find his way back to RedBull. However, you couldn’t tell Charles, because of the contracts, because of the agreements you made with the teams.

‘’I swear if you tell anyone-‘’ ‘’Don’t worry, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.’’ Your friend smiled after you just told her your new racing suit for next season had the same color as Charles’. Yes, you were going to be his teammate.

‘’So that’s why you can’t tell him? Because of the contract.’’ Your friend sighed, making you nod in response. ‘’Yeah, if I tell him they will reconsider the contract, I need to be able to keep secrets in this team, it’s almost like a test.’’

‘’A bloody hard one…’’

And it was a hard one, one in which reality hit almost harder than one of your biggest crashes.

-

‘’Red flag, red flag, keep the delta positive, delta positive.’’ Charles heard his race engineer over the radio, his heart beating out of his chest the moment he heard it, he saw it.

‘’Y/n, are you okay? y/n, let me know if you’re okay, the medical car is on their way, medical car on their way.’’

Abu Dhabi, November 20th, 2022.

‘’And welcome, to the final race of the season, welcome, to the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix!’’ The commentators were everywhere, people cheering, screaming, a lot of energy coming from this place.

The race itself however, was less good, it was bad, really bad. You qualified P8, which was okay, but not the best so far. Charles qualified even worse, P11. Your start was okay, Charles’ start was amazing. But once the final laps approached, things got out of hand. You tried to overtake Lance Stroll, who was defending like his life depended on it. It was a battle for the final point.

The defending got a little too rough the moment you were wheel to wheel, side to side as you took the outside, while Lance took the inside. His car took the wrong route, sending you into the barriers with a speed over 150 miles an hour. Charles saw it happening, since he was about to lap the both of you.

‘’Red flag, red flag, keep the delta positive, delta positive.’’

‘’Is she okay? That was y/n, wasn’t it? Fucking hell.’’ Charles kept talking, nervously, looking into his mirrors to see the Aston Martin of Lance slowly driving behind him, the Alpha Tauri you were in, completely into the barriers, the only thing sticking out was the broken front wing.

‘’Affirm, that was y/n, no information on it yet, I’ll keep you updated.’’

‘’Fuck me, fuck! She needs to be okay, that was a big one, for fucks sake!’’ It felt like his whole word collapsed, right in front of his eyes, the way you were making the move, the smart move. And then, the way Lance lost control of his car, sending you straight into the barriers.

‘’Okay, y/n is okay, she got out of the car, but is headed to the hospital for checkups.’’

He wanted to come along, he wanted to make sure you were okay, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because reality is, the two of you hadn’t spoken in days, weeks, months. After that one time in the hotel room, you lost contact and never spoke again.

He missed you, like crazy, and so did you, because there was more than just friends between the two of you, more than just friends with benefits, there was love, true love, from both sides.

The moment he saw you in that hospital bed, bruises covering your arms, bandages on your ribs, a sob left his mouth, waking you up after the nap you just had.

‘’Charles?’’ Your voice was raspy, dry, soft, fragile, it matching the way you looked right now. ‘’y/n, please, don’t say a thing.’’ He mumbled, feet moving into your direction, his hand instantly reaching for yours.

‘’You scared the shit out of me.’’ He continued, playing with the fingers on your right hand, a sigh escaping his lips. ‘’I’m so glad you’re okay, so so glad…’’ He sighed.

Mattia talked to him, mostly about the results of this year, but also about next year. Charles had asked him if they found a new driver yet, because he knew Carlos was leaving Ferrari, going back to his former team, McLaren. Mattia decided that, since you were in the hospital, it was time to tell him.

‘’You’re going to be my teammate.’’ He whispered after a long silence between the two of you, your hands not leaving each other’s. You instantly looked up into his eyes, blinking twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

‘’What?’’

‘’My teammate, you’ll be my teammate.’’ He says again, eyes meeting yours. You swallowed thickly, a sigh escaping your lips. ‘’Who told you?’’ ‘’Mattia.’’ ‘’Oh…’’

‘’I know you couldn’t tell me, he explained it to me.’’ He mumbles, sighing. ‘’I don’t want to hurt your head too much now, sorry, we can talk about it another time, okay?’’ He kindly suggested, a weak smile appearing on your lips at how sweet he was again. You missed him, so freaking much.

That day in the hospital changed your entire life, he had you back, and you couldn’t stay away from him anymore. You were back together, this time not just as friends, but as lovers.

1 year later

‘’Well well, look who we have here, the grids favorite couple.’’

‘’Hello to you too, Carlos.’’ You shot the old Ferrari driver a smile, stepping closer to Charles as his arm was wrapped around your waist in an attempt to hold you even closer to him than before.

‘’How was your holiday?’’ The Spaniard asked the Monegasque, walking with the two of you towards the press conference room. ‘’It was absolutely amazing, aside from the fact I finally got her to say yes.’’ He smirked, intertwining your hand with his.   

‘’Really? You’re finally moving in together?’’ Carlos smiled, laughing as he patted Charles’ back the moment you rolled your eyes in a playful way.

‘’How could I say no after you practically begged me. You know he gave me a whole paragraph of reasons why I should move in with him? He even mentioned the climate.’’ You all laughed, Carlos shaking his head at his former team mate. ‘’Dude, really?’’ He chuckled.

‘’What? It’s warmer at my place than it is at hers.’’ He says, squeezing your hip as you all waited outside the press conference room.

‘’Charles, we freaking both lived in Monaco!’’

All with all, things turned out to be more than perfect. The way you broke the news about your relationship was a way to never forget.

Monaco, May 28th, 2023.

‘’And for the first time in his career, Charles Leclerc wins his home Grand Prix, Ferrari getting a 1-2 in Monaco!’’

He won, the both of you won, the way you were able to work together to get this amazing result, was one of many pro’s about your relationship, the connection you had, the communication you had, everything was perfect.

Jumping out of the cars, hugging your team, hugging each other, going backstage and preparing for the podium ceremony, something the two of you had done more than once this season. And you were hoping to achieve this many more times this season.

‘’Let’s make it one victory to never forget, shall we?’’ Charles rested his hand on your lower back, giving you a gentle push to the podium, on which you received your trophy for the Monaco GP.

Charles came some seconds later, and after the national anthem, Charles’ anthem, he put his trophy down, grabbed the champagne bottle and poured it all over you, you doing the exact same thing to him. One sip, which was enough for the both of you. You stood on the top stage of the podium, arms wrapped around each other as the pictures were taken.

‘’I love you.’’ He whispered in your ear, making you turn your head to look at him with a smile. ‘’I love you too.’’ You whispered back, your smile only growing wider when his lips met yours. People were cheering, screaming, clapping, flashes were lighting up the entire sky, the amount of pictures taken of that first public kiss, were more than all races held in the history of Formula One.

‘’I’m so glad I broke our deal.’’ He whispered, making you laugh before pressing your lips against his one more time. “What deal?” You hummed, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “Rule number one. Don’t get feelings.” He whispered, slowly pulling away from your lips which tasted like champagne.

“I broke that deal before we even made it…” Yeah, madly in love… from the very first moment.