#I just feel so overwhelmed. I feel like i felt so much more confident in previous finals seasons

[writeriguess]

instead talking about Bakugou a little older than the reader? he in comparison has had a lot of experiences compared to her, but she in fact feels insecure about this, and would like some reassurance, but at a certain point Bakugou has a fit of jealousy and at that point she makes him understand how much he loves her, it would be too cute🎀 (+smut) THANKS

You had always admired Bakugou Katsuki from afar. His fiery personality, his unrelenting drive, and his overwhelming confidence made him impossible to ignore. Now, being with him felt like a dream—but sometimes, that dream turned into insecurity. After all, he was older, more experienced, and you often found yourself wondering if you measured up.

You sat at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with your fingers. Bakugou was pacing the room, towel draped over his neck after a long, hard day. His messy blond hair was still damp from the shower, and the muscles in his back flexed with every movement. As you watched him, the words that had been bothering you for days finally tumbled out.

“Katsuki… you’ve been with more people, right?”

His movements froze mid-step, and he turned to look at you, brows furrowing in confusion. “Huh? Where’s this coming from?”

You lowered your gaze, unsure of how to voice the insecurities swirling inside you. “It’s just… you’ve done a lot. Been with people, had more experiences. And I’m just—well, I feel like I’m behind. What if I’m not enough for you?”

His eyes softened, but there was a fire flickering behind them. In a few quick strides, he was standing in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. He lifted your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Are you kidding me?” Bakugou’s voice was low, almost a growl. “You think I care about any of that?”

You blinked, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little. “I mean, you’ve done so much already, and I’m just… I don’t know, Katsuki. I feel like you deserve someone who’s on your level.”

His scowl deepened, but this time it wasn’t directed at you. “Tch, you’re an idiot sometimes, y’know that? You think I’m with you for your ‘experience’?” He crouched down to your eye level, his intense crimson eyes burning into yours. “I’m with you because you’re you. Don’t need anyone else, don’t want anyone else. Got it?”

You felt your heart swell at his words, but before you could fully process the warmth, Bakugou’s expression darkened, and he stood back up.

“Wait… is that why you’ve been talkin’ to that extra from your class? The one always hangin’ around you?” His fists clenched, and you could practically see the jealousy bubbling up in him. His jaw tightened as if just the thought of it made his blood boil. “You think you need someone like him instead of me?”

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t mad at you. He was jealous. Bakugou, for all his confidence and bravado, was actually worried about losing you.

“Katsuki, no,” you said, standing up and grabbing his arm. His muscles were tense, but you held on firmly. “He’s just a friend. No one comes close to you. No one could ever replace you.”

He turned his head away, still refusing to meet your eyes, but you could tell his resolve was cracking. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat filled your ears.

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whispered against his skin. “You’re all I need. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that.”

Bakugou’s hands hesitated before they finally settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His grip tightened as if he was scared to let you go.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to say that,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “I love you, idiot.”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart flutter. You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. He responded immediately, his hands sliding up your back, his lips demanding yet gentle against yours. The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself being backed up against the bed, your legs hitting the edge.

“Katsuki…” you breathed out as he guided you down onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours.

His eyes darkened with desire, the jealousy from earlier replaced by an intense need to remind you just how much you meant to him. He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, fingertips pressing into your skin as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your collarbone, his voice rough with need. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to see you like this.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him. “I’m yours, Katsuki. Only yours.”

Bakugou’s lips crashed against yours again, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing the curves of your body. You gasped as his touch ignited a fire inside you, and before you knew it, your clothes were discarded, leaving you bare beneath him.

He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your body as if he was trying to commit the sight to memory. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in it made your heart skip a beat.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “Katsuki… I love you.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerable side of him that he rarely showed anyone. He leaned down, kissing you softly before whispering against your lips, “I love you too.”

Katsuki’s hands were anything but steady as he started fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. His fingers, usually so sure and precise, trembled slightly in a way that was endearing—like even he was nervous despite how confident he usually seemed. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his eyes locked onto yours as his brows furrowed in frustration.

“Damn thing,” he muttered, his impatience getting the best of him.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to still his hands. “Here, let me help,” you whispered, your fingers gently brushing against his. His gaze softened for a moment, and he watched as you slowly undid the rest of the buttons yourself.

As the fabric parted, revealing more of your skin, Katsuki’s eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He slid his hands over your now exposed skin, his touch sending sparks of warmth through your body. You shivered, not from the cold but from the electric connection that pulsed between you.

“Katsuki,” you breathed his name, drawing him closer as your blouse slipped off your shoulders, landing softly on the floor. His mouth found yours again, but this time, his kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hands moved to your waist, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of the possessiveness he had over you.

“Don’t know why you worry so much,” he murmured against your lips before kissing down your jawline to your neck. “You’re all I ever want.”

His words melted your insecurities, and you tilted your head back to give him better access. Each kiss, each graze of his teeth against your skin, sent a wave of warmth coursing through you. Your fingers tangled in his messy blond hair, pulling him closer as his lips moved lower.

“You’re perfect, you hear me?” Katsuki’s voice was rough, breathless, his jealousy from earlier forgotten as his focus shifted entirely to you. “No one else could ever come close to making me feel like this.”

You couldn’t help but smile through the haze of warmth and desire that clouded your mind. “You always know what to say, Katsuki.”

His response was a low growl of approval, his lips grazing your collarbone as his hands roamed lower, exploring the newly exposed skin. Every touch, every kiss, reaffirmed what you already knew: you were all he wanted, just as he was all you needed.

Katsuki’s lips trailed down your chest, his hot breath fanning across your skin, leaving a tingling sensation wherever it touched. The tension in the room thickened, his hands now tracing over the curves of your waist, gripping your hips with a possessive yet tender touch. As his lips hovered just above the edge of your bra, he paused, glancing up at you with those intense crimson eyes.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, laced with need. He kissed the swell of your breast softly, almost as if he was holding himself back.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers still tangled in his hair. “Katsuki…”

Hearing his name on your lips like that seemed to spark something in him. His hands moved to the clasp of your bra, and this time, there was no fumbling. He made quick work of it, tossing the fabric aside before lowering his head, lips grazing the newly exposed skin. His kisses turned hotter, more desperate, as his tongue flicked over one of your nipples, making you gasp and arch into him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his hands roaming your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. Every touch set your skin on fire, each kiss pulling you further into the storm that was Bakugou Katsuki.

You could feel the tension building between you both, the room growing hotter with every second. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off him in one swift motion, eager to feel his skin against yours. His muscles flexed under your touch, his body hard and warm as he pressed himself closer to you, almost as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, your voice shaky with anticipation. “I need you…”

The words seemed to unravel something inside him. His lips crashed against yours again, and in a rush, his hands went to the waistband of your skirt. In one swift movement, he pulled it down, taking your panties with it, leaving you completely bare before him.

He paused for a moment, eyes raking over your body, as if he needed to take you in—every inch, every curve, burning the image of you into his mind.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he was on you again, his hands sliding down your thighs, parting them gently as he settled between them. The intensity in his eyes, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly despite his strong grip, only fueled your desire. You reached for him, tugging at the waistband of his pants, needing to feel him, needing to close the distance that still remained between you.

“Katsuki, please…” you whispered, your voice heavy with need.

That seemed to snap whatever control he had left. In a blur of motion, his pants were discarded, and he hovered over you, his skin warm against yours as he pressed his forehead to yours. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you—nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words raw, almost vulnerable as he aligned himself with you.

Before you could respond, he thrust into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelmed your senses. Katsuki groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck as he held himself still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

“You feel… so damn good,” he breathed, his voice strained with the effort it took to stay still.

You wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging into his skin as you whispered his name, urging him to move. And he did, slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours with a delicious rhythm that had you trembling beneath him. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your mind going hazy as you lost yourself in him.

Katsuki’s pace quickened, the desperation in his movements mirroring your own. He pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you even closer, deeper, as if he wanted to merge with you entirely.

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your breath hitching as the coil of pleasure in your stomach tightened with every thrust. “Only yours, Katsuki…”

His response was a low growl, his grip tightening as he drove into you harder, faster. “That’s right,” he panted, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re mine… all mine.”

The intensity of his words, the sheer possessiveness in his voice, pushed you over the edge. With a cry, your body tightened around him, pleasure exploding through you in waves as your climax washed over you. Katsuki followed soon after, his body shuddering against yours as he found his own release, groaning your name as he buried himself deep inside you one last time.

For a moment, the world was silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing, both of you clinging to each other as you came down from the high.

Katsuki collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your hair as he held you close.

“I love you,” he whispered again, quieter this time, but just as sincere.

You smiled, snuggling into his warmth as you whispered back, “I love you too, Katsuki. Always.”

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[charlieg1rl]

𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭:  “𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬.” “𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅..”

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

You had just finished another exhausting round of rehearsals, with Minho standing across from you, watching you leave with that same smug smirk you had grown to hate over the years. Of course, he was just as talented, if not more, and it infuriated you. Every time the two of you were in the same room, it felt like a competition.

After grabbing your things, you headed back to your apartment, but as soon as you got inside, you realized something important was missing—your keys. With a heavy sigh, you knew exactly where they were. Right there in the practice room. And worse, you knew Minho was probably still there.

Making your way back, you tried to steady your nerves. You didn’t want to deal with him again so soon, but there was no other choice. Pushing open the door, you found Minho lounging against the mirror, clearly still recovering from practice but looking as infuriatingly confident as ever.

His eyes met yours the second you entered, and before you could say anything, his eyebrows lifted in amusement.

“Back so soon?” he teased, his voice a little too smug for your liking. “I didn’t realize you missed me that much.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “I know I was just here, but I think I forgot my keys.”

He didn’t move, just stayed leaning against the mirror, watching you with that infuriating smirk. “If you needed an excuse to see me again, you could have just asked…”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tried to brush past him, searching for your keys in the corner where you’d left your bag. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t waste my time just to see you.”

He pushed off the wall, slowly walking closer, his eyes never leaving you. The room seemed to shrink with every step he took. “Come on, admit it,” he said, his voice lowering. “You love the banter.”

You shot him a glare, feeling your heart race as he got closer. “You’re delusional.”

“Oh, am I?” He was standing right next to you now, his presence overwhelming as you fumbled with your bag. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like this. The back-and-forth. The tension.”

You finally found your keys, gripping them tightly as you turned to face him. He was too close, way too close, but you weren’t about to back down. “I think you’re the one who likes this.”

There was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words. His eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, and your breath hitched, but before you could say anything else, he stepped back, giving you just enough space to breathe.

“Maybe,” he said quietly, a rare softness in his tone. “Maybe I do.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Minho turned away, that usual cocky attitude fading just slightly as he moved back to his corner, leaving you standing there, keys in hand, with a thousand thoughts racing through your mind.

As you left the room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this rivalry wasn’t as simple as you thought. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than just the constant competition.

The days following your unexpected exchange with Minho were different, though not in a way you could easily describe. On the surface, nothing had changed—there were still the cutting remarks, the glares from across the practice room, and the subtle battle for dominance in every shared space. But underneath it all, you could feel the shift.

Every glance felt longer, every insult had an edge of something unsaid. And as much as you tried to ignore it, you found yourself thinking about that quiet moment in the practice room—about the way his expression had softened, just for a second, before he pulled back.

Today was no different. You and Minho were part of the same team for another dance rehearsal, forced to work together to perfect a new routine. The friction between you two only heightened the intensity of each movement, each step.

“Keep up,” he muttered as you missed a beat, the slightest smirk playing on his lips as he passed by.

You shot him a glare, determined not to let him win. “Worry about yourself, Min.”

By the end of rehearsal, your legs were aching, your shirt clinging to your skin with sweat, but you refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him. Not after he had taunted you all day.

As everyone else packed up, you stayed behind to run through the routine one last time, not wanting to leave until you were satisfied with your performance. You didn’t realize Minho had stayed too, quietly observing from the back of the room, arms crossed as he watched you move with determination.

You spun, lost in the music, until a voice cut through the silence.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Startled, you turned to see him standing there, his expression unreadable. It wasn’t like him to offer anything resembling concern, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying to brush it off, though your body was betraying you with exhaustion. “I don’t need your input.”

He stepped forward, his eyes still locked on yours. “I’m not saying you need it. I’m just telling you what I see.”

“Why do you care?” you snapped, more defensive than you intended.

Minho tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I just hate losing to someone who’s half-dead on their feet.”

You clenched your fists, biting back another retort. “I’m not losing.”

He came closer, closing the distance between you until you could see the faint glisten of sweat on his skin, the way his hair fell into his eyes. “You always think it’s a competition, don’t you?”

“Isn’t it?” you shot back, trying to regain control of the conversation, of yourself. The proximity was making it difficult to think clearly, the space between you charged with something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Minho’s gaze never wavered. “It’s not always about winning or losing, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath. “Then what is it about?”

For a moment, the room was silent. He looked at you like he was trying to figure something out, trying to find the right words. And then, with a quiet sigh, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

“It’s about this,” he said softly, his touch lingering for just a moment. “Whatever this is.”

Your breath hitched as his words hung in the air between you. It was the first time either of you had acknowledged it—the tension, the pull that had always existed but never been spoken aloud.

You felt your pulse quicken under his touch, your defenses crumbling just slightly. “I don’t even know what this is,” you whispered, your voice betraying the confusion and frustration that had been building for so long.

He stepped even closer, his face inches from yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Maybe you don’t,” he murmured, his voice low. “But I do.”

Before you could react, his hand moved from your wrist to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. It was such a gentle, unexpected gesture that it left you frozen, unsure of what to do next.

“Minho…” you started, but the words died on your lips as his eyes met yours, something soft and raw in his expression that you had never seen before.

“I’ve been trying to figure this out,” he admitted quietly. “Trying to understand why you get under my skin so much. Why I can’t stop thinking about you, even when I tell myself I shouldn’t.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sank in. The rivalry, the constant back-and-forth—it had always been more than that, hadn’t it? It was never just about winning or losing. It was about the way he made you feel, the way you made him feel.

“I thought I hated you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you looked up at him. “But maybe I don’t.”

Minho’s hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer. “Maybe we both got it wrong.”

The space between you disappeared as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was careful, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away, to tell him this wasn’t what you wanted. But instead, you found yourself leaning into him, deepening the kiss as your hands found their way to his chest.

For a moment, everything else faded—the rivalry, the competition, the tension that had been building for so long. All that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dazed, you could see the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Still think it’s about winning?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing small circles on your neck.

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “Maybe it’s about something else.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about winning or losing. You were just thinking about him.

And somehow, that felt like the biggest victory of all.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy p.6

Hi guyss, here's the new part and part 5 if you've missed it. Let me know what you think about Lando's secret, revealed in this part.

You had thought—hoped, really—that it would take a few days for the rumors to spread. After all, the video from yesterday still needed to be edited and published. Surely, you had some time before the media circus descended on you and Lando. But by the time Friday rolled around and you walked into the paddock with your colleagues, you were proven very, very wrong.

The moment you stepped foot inside, the air seemed to shift. Journalists’ heads turned, their eyes locking onto you like you were fresh prey. You barely had a second to register the shift in energy before you were surrounded. A sea of reporters, cameras flashing, and questions being hurled in your direction from all sides.

"Is it true about you and Lando?" "How long have you been seeing each other?" "Was it love at first sight?" "Is this a paddock romance?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to navigate the sudden onslaught, feeling trapped by the sheer number of people crowding you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Panic surged through you as the cameras pressed closer, the barrage of voices overwhelming.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. "Hey! Back off!"

Carlos.

Before you knew it, he was by your side, his tall frame creating a protective barrier between you and the journalists. His presence was like a lifeline, grounding you as he expertly guided you through the crowd, waving off the reporters with a sharp glare.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Carlos muttered under his breath, keeping a firm hand on your shoulder as he steered you toward a quieter area behind the paddock.

Once you were finally out of the media's reach, Carlos turned to face you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?”

You exhaled shakily, still trying to process what had just happened. “I didn’t expect this to blow up so fast,” you admitted, your voice small and slightly breathless. “I thought we had more time.”

Carlos’s eyes softened further as he nodded, his usual calm confidence still present but tinged with concern. “Yeah, well, things in this world don’t stay quiet for long,” he said, offering a small smile. “But if you need anything, or if it gets too much, you can always count on me. I’ve got your back.”

You looked up at him, grateful for his protectiveness. There was something so reassuring about Carlos in moments like these—the way he didn’t make you feel weak for being overwhelmed, but rather like he understood the pressure and was ready to shield you from it when needed.

“Thanks, Carlos,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “You don’t need to thank me. Just… don’t be afraid to ask for help, alright? I know Lando’s involved now, but this place—it can be intense. You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone.”

His protectiveness was palpable, a comforting presence in the whirlwind of everything that had happened. You nodded, feeling the weight of his support.

“I won’t,” you promised.

As you walk back to your team’s section of the paddock, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Carlos’s protectiveness, the way he stepped in and shielded you from the press—it had caught you off guard in the best way. You weren’t used to him being so attentive, so present. It felt… nice. Almost like the plan was working.

With a smile tugging at your lips, you pull out your phone and quickly type a message to Lando.

You: So, guess what? You: I think the plan’s working—Carlos totally noticed me more today.

A moment later, Lando’s reply comes in, and you can practically picture his smirk on the other side of the screen.

Lando: Oh yeah? Told you it would work. Carlos can’t help but pay attention now. Lando: How was he?

You: He was great, actually. He helped me get away from the press—really protective. It felt like he actually cared.

You pause, biting your lip as you type the next part.

You: What about your mysterious girl? Has she reacted to the news about us?

For a few moments, Lando doesn’t reply. You wonder if maybe you’ve hit a sore spot, given that this whole fake relationship plan was also meant to get his crush to notice him. You know how much he cares about her, how he’s been pining for her, waiting for her to finally see him the way he sees her.

When his response finally comes through, it’s a bit more subdued.

Lando: Yeah, she’s noticed. Lando: Since we started this, she’s been paying more attention to me. But… she still doesn’t see me like that.

You frown at the screen, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. Lando’s always been so easygoing and lighthearted, but you know how much this mysterious girl means to him, even though he’s never revealed who she is.

You: I’m sorry, Lando. That sucks. You: But maybe she just needs more time? I mean, this whole thing with us is still new, right? Maybe she’ll come around.

You mean every word, wanting to comfort him, to give him hope. He’s been nothing but supportive through this whole fake relationship ordeal, and the last thing you want is for him to feel disheartened.

What you don’t know, what Lando hasn’t told you, is that the girl he’s talking about—the one he’s been trying to get to notice him—is you.

From the beginning, this plan wasn’t just about helping you with Carlos or boosting his public image. It was about spending more time with you, being close to you, and seeing if, maybe, just maybe, you’d start to see him as more than just your partner in this scheme. But for now, Lando keeps that secret to himself, his heart heavy with the irony of his situation.

His next message comes through, lightening the mood once again.

Lando: Yeah, maybe. Who knows? At least we’re both getting what we want out of this, right? You: Right. Partners in crime! Lando: Always ;)

You smile at his response, completely unaware of the deeper feelings hidden behind his words. To you, this is all just part of the plan. But to Lando, it’s something so much more.

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @gtwdahhh, @edsmunsonsgirl, @under-seasoned-pasta, @marshmummy, @weekendlusting, @jaimeleannavanlloman

[lovelyatomicpeace]

The silence between us

Plot: Steve and y/n have been friends all their lives, separated during adolescence. Thanks to what happens in '83 the two will be able to meet again and build a stronger friendship than before. One day y/n proposes to Steve to go to the beach together, he will accept, but what will happen during this week? and especially once they return to Hawkins will the two have the opportunity to understand what happened between them or something horrible is going to happen?

Good morning guys, today a part came out that I was particularly fond of and I hope I managed to tell it to the fullest... as always let me know if you liked it by leaving a comment ❤️

Sixth and Last Night (part 3)

Steve POV

I squinted against the strong light of the beach club. y/n was standing next to me, wearing tight light-blue pants and a crisp white blouse: the fabric danced along her curves, teasing the edges of her sun-kissed skin whose rays were caught by her hair. God, there was too much space between us.

"Let's get something to drink," she suggested, her eyes shining with mischief. "I need something strong to relax me."

"Well, lead the way" I said; the bartender greeted us with a confident smile, immediately captivated by y/n "What can I get you, beautiful?"

"A vodka tonic, please. And will he take...?" He turned to me, playfully raising an eyebrow "Surprise me," I said, in turn raising an eyebrow, which earned me a complicit smile from him. "All right, let's see if you really live up to the reputation of 'party animal," he said in a tone of voice that combined defiance and mockery.

"There you go!" The bartender set our drinks down on the counter shortly after, with the glasses catching the disco lights from above. Y/n lifted his own, sparkling with anticipation. "To the last night of our adventure!"

"To good memories," I toasted, watching his face light up with joy. I took a sip, the coolness of the cocktail bringing relief to the warmth that enveloped me. We drifted back into the chaos.I watched her, half amused, half anxious, as I sipped my drink, hoping it would help quench the inexplicable desire simmering inside me. We made our way through groups of people dancing, "Come on!" he shouted over the cacophony, grabbing my hand, his grip surprisingly firm. The moment was electric. When our hands joined, the world melted away. I could feel the warmth radiating from her, and for a split second, all the boundaries we had drawn faded into the background: y/n pulled me closer to the crowd, her laughter infectious, and I couldn't help but join her, our movements synchronized as if orchestrated by an invisible force. Waves of music swept over us, and we closed our eyes, losing ourselves in the rhythm.

"I could get used to this," I shouted over the pounding beat, in an attempt to convey something deeper than just the excitement of the party, "Me too! We need to do this more often when we get home!" he replied. Something in her tone sounded wistful; I wanted to seize that fleeting moment, to tell her that I would always be there, ready to say yes to adventures with her. How could we remain just friends when the line between friendship and something more was thinning? In that moment, I forgot everything: the walls we had built, the unspoken words that lingered in the depths of our friendship, all trapped in the cloud of despair that emanated from us. We were two stars in orbit around each other, not quite colliding but in an ever-approaching dance. I made her laugh, a musical sound that made my chest flood with warmth.

Just as the people around us lost themselves in passionate kisses and heated embraces, the idea of us enveloped only by the dance floor came closer. y/n's body brushed against mine, an electric moment when I felt time hold my breath. Why couldn't we break this barrier? Why was it so complicated?

I was overwhelmed by the sensations: all I wanted was to reach out toward her again, pull her closer, infinitely closer....

but the sound of thunder interrupted me, drawing our attention to the sky where dark clouds had gathered. "Looks like the party's coming to an end," said y/n, with the corners of his mouth turned downward in disappointment. That's when the first drop of rain fell, barely perceptible against the wave of sound around us: the clouds unleashed their grip and the downpour swept over the party, forcing the outsiders to disperse.

"Hey, let's go! We can find shelter along the catwalk." A wave of determination swept over me. As we ran, the rain fell hard, harder now, and all I could think about was that undeniable bond we had almost overcome: we huddled under the fronds of a palm tree, but it was a fragile barrier against the fury of nature. I focused my attention on her: her hair, tousled by the breeze, now framed her face, wet but radiant, rain dripped from her eyelashes onto her cheeks, and I could see the way her dress clung to her skin, transparent and revealing enough to make my heart flutter.

"Steve!" she shouted, her voice barely audible above the storm. I could barely hear my heart beating, louder than the thunder that surrounded us. "What do we do?", I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her closer, trying to protect her from the cold and wind. "Let's go back to the motel,"... but before we could go, an uncontrollable impulse assailed me. I felt as if the world had narrowed to us, just to that moment. Without thinking, I moved closer, capturing his lips with mine in an impromptu kiss that felt like an explosion of emotions. It was violent and unrestrained. My hands entwined in her hair, pulling her closer, as if I were trying to fuse our bodies into one. Water cascaded around us, the world beyond our messy intimacy lost in the storm. Her lips were soft, hesitant for only a moment before she melted into me, returning the kiss with an urgency that made my head spin. His body pressed against mine was intoxicating: each brush of skin sent electrifying impulses through my veins.

I could taste the rain and salt on his lips, a chaotic mixture not unlike the storm raging around us. We were outlaws, fugitives from the world summoned in a reckless moment, our heartbeats synchronized in time with the thunder above us.

I turned away, breathless, and peered into her eyes: deep furrows reflecting surprise and something akin to despair. For those brief seconds, the storm ceased to exist: Time seemed to stand still as I pulled away, her eyes wide and surprised, as if I had stolen a piece of the storm itself. My heart was pounding, not from fear, but from euphoria, the kind of euphoria that made the boundaries of my reality fuzzy and bent.

She stood there, motionless for a blink more, confusion engulfing me completely. Had I frightened her? Had I ruined everything? My heart sank, the chaos around me suddenly all too real, the storm now echoing inside my soul, "y/n?" I asked softly, my voice cutting through the flood like an invocation. "Are you okay? I'm sorry," I stammered, the gravity of our kiss hitting me all at once. His silence lingered as the rain continued to pour down. And then the most unexpected thing happened. Without another word, he moved closer, his trembling hands found my shoulders as he leaned down, his lips meeting mine again.

~~~~~~~~~

In the motel room, the air was thick with desire. I closed the door behind us, the soft sound of the latch clicking into place amplifying the silence that hovered between us. The atmosphere changed; tension electrified the air, making each breath heavier with possibility.

I turned to her and searched her eyes for something, a recognition of the whirlwind that had swept over us. "Y/N..." I dared to take a step forward, my voice barely a whisper.

"Steve," she replied, in a low tone, as if unsure where this path would take us. But in that instant, it didn't matter. My heart was loud enough to cover the sounds of the storm outside, heartbeats mingling in a shared rhythm that promised something new and intense. As I reached out to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear, I realized that that night was not just about the storm outside; it was about the storm we were igniting inside each other, two souls drawn together by an unexpected spark, wrapped in the tension of the unknown.

Our hands began to explore our bodies, discovering each other in the way only people who have longed in silence can do. I could feel her heart beating fast, in tune with mine, a rhythm of excitement and raw need. The air was charged, heavy with unexpressed desires, each touch sending sparks dancing through my veins. She hesitated when I brushed her waist with my fingers, but there was an invitation in her eyes that made my pulse quicken. In that room, in the midst of the storm, we became more than just friends. We were explorers, navigating the wild territory of newly found love, passion intertwined with uncertainty. As we held each other, the night transformed; we embraced the wonderful chaos together.

I moved closer, feeling his warmth draw me in like gravity. "Are we really doing this?" I murmured, my voice barely audible. The question hung between us, flickering like a candle flame. She nodded slowly, her breathing stopped slightly, and I felt a fierce need to protect that fragile moment, to honor the intensity of what we were about to share. "You are so beautiful," I murmured, in a low, rough voice. Y/n's cheeks blushed with a hint of shyness, but she met his gaze with fiery determination. She knew what she wanted and would not let the opportunity pass her by. She moved a step closer, bridging the distance between them, and whispered, "Show me how much you want me."

My hands began to tremble slightly as I unbuttoned her blouse, which slipped off, revealing the delicate lace of her bra. Quietly, never taking my eyes off hers, I did the same and dropped it to the floor. Her breasts were leaking out, a perfect handful, I was hesitant to touch them but y/n took my hand and rested it on one of them and that's when I felt the weight and warmth of them. I kissed her neck, my tongue dancing on the sensitive skin, making her gasp.

Her hands reached for her belt and, with trembling fingers, unfastened it, The sound of her zipper echoed in the room, y/n took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, the muscles in her abdomen rippling as she moved, her chest heaving with each breath. I moved closer, pressing my body against hers: my hands slid over her hips, gripping her firmly as she lay on the bed, the coolness of the sheets contrasting with the warmth of our bodies, causing us to shiver.

I kissed her deeply, her tongue exploring my mouth as her hands roamed my body, leaving a trail of fire. Her hands found their way to my boxers, sliding them down. I groaned, letting my eyes roll back in pleasure.

With a swift move, y/n stood over me, and eagerly wrapped her legs around my waist. She felt his tip at her entrance and gasped, her eyes opening to meet his. He paused for a moment to look at her, savoring the look of pure lust on her face. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he thrust into her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, and she moaned my name as he began to move. His rhythm was perfect, each thrust hitting just the right spot, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She tightened her grip on my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as she went along with movements and her hips rose to meet me.

The room was filled with the sounds of our lovemaking: the slap of skin against skin, our mingled gasps and moans, the rustle of the sheets beneath them: as I increased the pace, she felt the pressure inside her grow, a delicious tension begging to be released with her body shaking from the force. I watched her and my arousal reached new heights as I felt her tighten around me. With one last, powerful thrust, she peaked, her body convulsing as I filled her with my release. We stood there, panting, hearts beating in unison, lost in the aftermath of shared ecstasy.The world around us vanished, leaving only the sound of our labored breaths. My hands clung to her hips, my fingers dug into her soft flesh as I pushed deeper into her,y/n, out of pleasure, she threw her head back, her long hair falling over her shoulders and onto her back, and the sensation of wetting myself against her was driving me crazy, and I knew I couldn't hold on much longer.

With one last, desperate cry, Y/n shattered, her body reaching orgasm. And I followed her, our bodies locked in an embrace that seemed to defy gravity. We clutched each other, hearts beating wildly against their chests, as the world around blurred into a haze of pleasure and need. For a brief, perfect, instant there were no interruptions, there was nothing but the two of us, lost in passion. But reality had a way of intruding, and as the aftershocks of our orgasms subsided, we became aware of our surroundings again. The room was silent, the only sound being that of our panting breaths and the thunder outside.

We lay there for a while, our bodies embraced, and finally the weight of unspoken words settled over us again like a shroud and I realized that I could not ignore the elephant in the room forever. I pulled out of her gently, rolling onto my side and resting on one elbow. I shook a strand of hair from her face with a serious expression. "We need to talk." Y/n nodded, her eyes seeking mine.

"I know," she whispered, her voice a little rough from screaming. "But not now. Not yet": for now we had this moment, this perfect slice of time when it was just the two of us, our bodies and hearts entwined in a symphony of passion. And that was enough for the moment.

We stayed there, wrapped in each other's arms, with silence speaking louder than any words. The weight of what we had done hung between us, a silent promise of something more to come, a pact sealed in sweat and passion: for the moment we were content to bask in the glow of their illicit encounter, with minds racing with thoughts of what was to come, hearts beating in sync like a secret rhythm that only they could hear.

We had crossed a line and there was no turning back...

[butterfly-in-progress]

I was born with a mask

Or I might as well have been

I didn't even know what my own face looked like

As the years went on

I added to it

Layers upon layers caked onto my face

A protective shell

But you were by my side when there were cracks in it

You loved me when the mask was still new and didn't cover much

You were with me for so long, through so much

I thought

That after the long and arduous process

Of hammering at this ceramic

To chip away the layers

And let my face feel the sun

You would rejoice as I did at seeing my face

But instead I have to wonder if you ever loved me in the first place

And chip you off of my heart

[bare1ythere]

-

[luveline]

could you write plss write something about JJ’s confession and spencer is with bombshell reader and loves her entirely but she gets extremly scared and insecure??

Your usual confidence is shaken after JJ’s confession, but Spencer is emphatically in love with you. fem, 1.5k

Spencer gives you a rundown after every case. Not just as a colleague who missed it, but as his partner who he loves. This one comes out slowly. Maybe even reluctantly. 

He’s recounting the moment JJ had been forced to tell a secret. “She told me she’s always loved me, but that things are too complicated now.” 

You freeze in total bewilderment, your mug of hot tea swelling over the rim to warm your fingers. Further overwhelmed, you set it down on the coffee table. 

You’re in pyjamas on the couch. Spencer sits in sweatpants on the other end of it, his own cup of tea in hand. He’s watching you carefully. You’d felt generously comfortable only moments ago, riding the high of his continued survival, but now you’re feeling sick.. 

“She told you she loves you?”  

“That she was too scared to tell me before.” 

“And what do you think about that?” 

“I think if I never met you, I would’ve spent half of my life calling after her.” His lips quirk into one of those typical awkward Spencer smiles. “What should I think?” 

“I can't really tell you what to think, Spencer.” 

If he never met you, he’d still want JJ? Or if you weren’t in the way, he’d be with her now? Or what? 

You’ve never been the insecure type, to begin. You met Spencer when you were both rookies trying to establish themselves in the BAU, Spencer as a new member, and you as a hopeful applicant. Each time you liaised, or came around to annoy your good friend Derek Morgan, Spencer would be there, looking cute and lonely as ever. It was easy to become his friend. Easier again to fall in love with him. 

Not easy to convince him you truly wanted to be with him, but you were persistent, and… honestly, you’ve never been in love with someone like you have Spencer. That’s why JJ’s confession sends ice water down your back. 

He lets you steep for a few minutes, but ultimately can’t take the weird silence. 

“Hey,” he says, clear worry in his tone as he puts his own mug on the coffee table and moves to sit beside you, his hand falling onto your knee. “Hey, what’s that face about?” 

“What face?” you ask, schooling your expression. 

“That face.” His head tips to the side. 

“I’m not making a face.” 

“I know you…” he says, a tenderness to him as his hand slips under your leg, his fingers pressing into the softest skin behind your knee. 

“What else did she say?” 

He nods with understanding. “She said she was too scared to say it before, and that things are complicated now, I guess because everything’s changed so much.” 

“She has a family.” 

“Angel, even if she didn’t, you think that would make a difference?” He finds your hand for kissing. “What do you think I said to her? I love you. I told her I love you, she already knew that, but I told her again. I said there’s nothing complicated about it.” 

You stare at him. 

“Nothing complicated about it,” he repeats, pressing your kissed hand to his neck and covering it soundly with his own.  

You’re not expecting the insecurity of it. You and Spencer have never been on surer footing. Every day with him seems to guarantee the next. He just has to look at you and you know he’s your person, but you forgot he could just love somebody else if he wanted to. You forgot he even liked JJ to begin with. This sudden reminder is like having your legs kicked out from under you. 

You panic. 

“I love you,” he says, your hand moving down, pressed with fever to his chest. “More than anyone.” 

“I love you too… I just– I guess I thought JJ was my friend,” you say. 

“She is. She said she needed something that would shock the UnSub… I don’t think she expected anything to change. We just needed to get out of there.” 

He almost died and you’re thinking about JJ. Shit, JJ could’ve died. 

You bow your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, no, for what? For what?” He sandwiches you to his side. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair. It puts you in a bad position. But you don’t have anything to worry about, I love you, and I don’t have any feelings for JJ.” 

You wonder if that’s true. 

You’re being unlike yourself. Embarrassed, you hide your face in his collar and let him hug you gently. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I have no idea what to do right now.” 

Insecurity isn’t your style, but it’s not something that can be helped. You have, through everything, pioneered desperately to put your best foot forward. You wear clothes ordered to fit and then tailored for good measure, you take care of your appearance in a way that others might find objectionable. Who you are outwardly is just as important to you as the inward, which makes this all the worse. You hate being out of control. 

Spencer can make it better, despite his insistence on cluelessness. “You know it could never be anyone else but you, right?” he asks softly. 

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m not angry because she didn’t have a choice, but do you really believe she didn’t mean it? She could’ve made up a hundred different lies.” 

“I think she meant it,” he says, still speaking softly. 

“You understand why that would freak me out, right? If you never met me, you could be with her.” 

“I can’t imagine a universe where we don’t meet,” he says. 

Spencer delivers it with that sincere yet shy honesty that he tends to say many things. Like it’s simple, like he’s aware of how cleanly cut it is, and like he’s worried you won’t agree with him. 

You try not to act so small, straightening your back, and sewing an arm behind his neck and over his shoulder. You’re not feeling a hundred percent just yet, and so you press your forehead to his cheek, his hair kissing your  ear. Spencer drags your leg across his thigh and lets you stew for a little while. 

“I don’t want to be with JJ.” He squeezes you closer, nearly has you in his lap. “Is that what you’re worried about? If I never met you, I wouldn’t want to be with her, because she had no interest in me, or– or maybe she did, but she didn’t show it. I know exactly what it feels like now to be loved without remorse, to– to never be told I’m too much. JJ is one of my best friends in the whole world, but you’re my heart. You’re the only person who’s ever liked me for me, all of me, even when I know it wasn’t easy.” 

“It’s always easy,” you murmur.

“That’s not the only reason I love you, but it’s important. JJ’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s such a good mom, but she’s not you. She could never be you, and I don’t want anyone that isn’t you.” 

You don’t want him to say cruel things about JJ and you’re glad when he doesn’t, but you definitely need his assurance that he prefers you. Then you feel silly, because it’s your bed he comes home to, your hip he’s caressing as he waxes poetic for you. 

You feel less like he doesn’t love you and more like you’ve made a fool of yourself for even suggesting it. “Am I your best friend?” you ask (childishly, depending on who you ask). 

“You’re my best friend. You’re the best friend. Every day I get to be with you is perfect.” 

“That’s really romantic,” you mumble, nearly not quite kidding as you rub the tip of your nose into his cheek. 

“You bring it out of me.” 

You sigh and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Thanks, Dr. Reid. I think you fixed me.” 

“You’re still making a face.” 

“You almost died today, baby. JJ isn’t the sole thing on my mind.” 

“Almost died is an exaggeration. We almost die all the time.” 

You sniff his hair at your discretion. When he holds you like he’s doing now, you realise you have no need to worry. How can he squeeze your soft sides and chase your nose with his if he doesn’t mean what he says? Spencer’s not like that. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” you say. 

“I don’t think you did. But would you feel better if I say it’s okay? Because it’s okay. I’m sorry for telling you something I knew would upset you, but we don’t–”

“Have secrets, I know.” 

You give him a teeny kiss by his ear. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs pleasantly. 

You press another right on top of the first. Slower, you peel away to stroke his hair. His eyes hold all the proof you need —you’re loved without competition. 

[chastiefoul]

love and deepspace men when you keep telling them you love them

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel fluff fluff and fluff

zayne

“is that how you’re going to reply to anything i say today?” he asked in a serious tone, although the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. you smiled just a tad wider, gaining a reaction from the man whose lap you’re sitting at. “i love you,” you say once more, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. zayne just looked at you, he gazed at you so adoringly with eyes that told you millions. a hand cupped your jaw as you leaned into the touch, his hand felt warm. his thumb rubbed your cheek, then he let out the slightest smile to himself. “i can never win against you, can i?” he asked, kissing your lips as you could feel his smile against yours he mumbled, “i love you too.”

xavier

xavier offered you his sweetest smile as he stared at you. “i think i like this game.” he pulled you close, his arms around your waist as he leaned it, his breath ghosting over the skin of your cheek. you laughed at the ticklish feeling. “and i think i love you,” you replied, grabbing a hold of his face with both of your hand to stop his mischievous movement. xavier smiled once more, to a point where looked like he’s practically beaming. “again,” he whispered. “i love you, xavier.”

he chuckled happily, the sound filled your chest with an overwhelming sensation. “again?” he rested his forehead against yours, a gorgeous smile still loyal on his lips. “i love you so much, xavier.” xavier closed his eyes, as if basking the happiness that he thought could last for two eternities. he pressed a kiss on your lips, “i love you.” he pulled away before leaning in once more. “i love you, (y/n). always.”

rafayel

he looked almost smug on the first one, a coy smile painted his feature. “i know that,” he said as he crossed his arms, looking a tad too proud of himself. “rafayel, i love you,” you said once more as his demeanor changed slightly from the confident man to someone who looked a little unsure. “oh.. uh.. y-yeah you said that already,” he rubbed the back of his head, a pretty color of pink rose to his cheeks. you chuckled quietly at the expected reaction. you put your arms around his neck as you once more said, “have i told you that i love you so much rafayel?”

his blush now has spread all the way to the tip of his ears. “yes, yes you did, enough please!” he face palmed, trying to cover half of his face which proved to be futile since he left enough space so he could still look at you. “you never have mercy on my poor heart,” he mumbled, finally reciprocating the embrace. you squinted your eyes, expecting a certain sentence to be said back. “fine, fine. i love you too. happy?” he said, teasing. you exaggerated a frown as he laughed. “i love you, (y/n).” he said sincerely, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

[sunsburns]

been thinking about dating college!art and you get into a really big fight until he decides to show up at your dorm *cough* make up sex *cough*

i had wayy too much fun with this… SMUT 17+

“i’m still mad at you, you know.” there’s no real bite to your bark, not when your voice is breathless, your cheeks are flushed, and your hands keep running through his hair.

“yeah, i know,” art drawls, his voice softening. he says it because a part of him knows it’s true, but he can’t help the faint smile that grows on his face. he knows you won’t stay mad for long, but he still feels the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. he’d do anything to make it up to you. with every press of his lips, he mutters a quiet “i’m sorry,” against your skin, then grazes his teeth along your ankle before making his way up your leg.

he’d thought of a million different things to say to you, how he would stand his ground or cave to your defences. but all of it was thrown out the window the moment you opened that door. you were wearing his shirt—or maybe it was patrick’s, maybe even tashi’s—and a pair of panties. the sight of your messy desk, covered in textbooks, notebooks, and your open laptop, reminded him you were doing homework, or trying to. but the ache in his chest at the thought of you hating him was overwhelming.

it was killing him knowing you were upset, and he was the cause of it. that’s why art had taken a trip to the nearest farmer’s market the moment he was off the court, and he bought you flowers and your favourite snack and knocked on your door.

now the flowers are forgotten by your desk, the snacks on the floor, and you’re still trying to keep up the act that you’re mad at art. but the truth is, you can’t even remember what you were mad at him about in the first place. 

the way he looks at you, with such earnest remorse and tenderness, makes it hard to hold onto your anger. you sigh, running your fingers through his hair again, feeling the tension between you start to melt away.

“i hate how you do this to me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. art’s eyes meet yours, and he pauses, his lips hovering just above your knee.

“i know,” he says again, his voice filled with a mix of regret and hope. his hands roam up the sides of your thighs, fingers brushing your ass before they turn into the curve between your legs. “but i’m here now,” he presses a kiss against your hot skin again, making his way up, up, and up. “and i want to make it right.”

as he continues his gentle kisses, moving slowly and tenderly, you feel your defences crumbling. the anger that once felt so strong is now just a distant memory. art’s presence, his touch, his voice, his words, all of him- it’s all you can think about.

he looks up at you, sitting on the bed while he kneels before you. you’re watching him, waiting for his next move when he is still between your legs. 

when you run your nails against his scalp, art doesn't bother hiding the quiet whimper that slips past his lips before he closes his eyes and leans his head towards your arm. 

he lets you hold him while his hands trail up your sides, reaching and groping anything he can before his fingers tug at your panties, and he carefully slips them off you.

when he kisses your clit, you rest your leg over his shoulder, heel pressing against the muscles of his back. his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer while he starts to eat you out. 

art starts slow, calculated strokes of his tongue against you, running it in tight circles against your clit, dipping it lower when he gets a little more confident. when you arch your back and whine, pushing his head closer so you can ride his face, he starts to pick up the pace, hoping to hear that sound come out of you again.

when his tongue pokes at your cunt, it draws a loud moan out of you, blood rushing to your ears. “fuck, art,” you whimper, grinding against his face. “feels so good.”

art seems to like it more than you, eyes closed in bliss, humming and moaning against your cunt, each vibration from his mouth making you spiral. his hips buck up into nothing, but he doesn't seem to mind as his hands hold onto you tighter, as if he is afraid to lose you. 

“you’re so pretty like this,” you barely manage to get out, your heart thumping against your chest.

art moans again at your praise and finally opens his eyes to meet your burning gaze. his low, nearly pathetic whine with his eyes on you was what it took to push you over the edge.

art lets you ride it out, he lets you grind against his face, he lets you use him again and again and again until you’ve had your fill and there is nothing left of him.

and when you cup his cheeks and bring his face to yours and kiss him like you have a one-track mind, he has an inkling feeling that you're not mad at him anymore. you press your forehead against his, hand cupping the back of his neck, and he lets out a sigh and you breathe it in. 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, one more time, to make sure you know he means it.

you smile, offering him half a shrug and another kiss. “just let me return the favour.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you please do one where the reader is Stan and ford’s childhood friend? I’d imagine that they would both be SUPER protective, and later in adulthood they move in with does to help with his research. Stanley and ford secretly developed a crush on them over time but neither have admitted their feelings 🤭🤭

I made this one too fucking long as well the to might need to make a part two as not to overwhelming people.

You probably threw sand in some bullies eyes when they didn’t leave poor Ford alone/ and or comforted Ford alongside Stan afterwards bc confrontation wasn’t your thing. Either way it didn’t take long for you, Stan and Ford to become a well known trio in the town of New Jersey, one was never seen without the other two trailing behind.

You three were inseparable.

Ford was the brains and intellect

Stan was the protective fighter

And you were the mediator, the confidant, the person who’d encourage the twins to keep moving forward for that was the only way to go.

The mystery trio you called yourselves as you’d spend countless hours on the beech, searching for the abnormal and mysterious with nothing but your flashlights and determination to make a name for yourselves.

You didn’t give a shit about Ford’s six fingers, you thought they were cool and told him often that you were jealous.

‘Why?’ He’d ask.

‘It’s cooler to be different than it is to fit in the norm.’ You’d tell him as you’d both sit somewhere overlooking the beach, hearing the cries of seagulls and the crashing of the waves against the sandy beaches. ‘One day everyone is going to try and find something abnormal about themselves to fit in, as though they weren’t the same people who’d shun people for being a little different. They’ll never admit that they’re the bad guy and all they want is attention and will throw a tantrum when they don’t get it.’

You then placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘So don’t listen to them Stanford, you’ll make a name of yourself one day and they’ll all flock to you like moths to a flame. High six?’ You raised your hand.

‘High six.’ Ford replied as you high-fived/ high-sixed each other.

Their dad didn’t like you but you didn’t give a shit because you didn’t like him all that much either with how he treated Stanley in comparison to Ford and would often refuse to go to their house when you knew he was there.

Shermie pines however adored you for keeping her boys in line and being their friend and practically adopted you into the family as she would then move her attention to her sons.

‘So which one of you is going to fall for them first?’ She would ask as Stan and Ford look at her with flustered cheeks.

‘They’re just a friend!’

‘Yeah a friend!’ The twins defective words would overlap which didn’t help their matching blushes that looked like cherry tomatoes by now.

Shermie would then throw her arms over the boys’ shoulders and said. ‘That’s what they all say until it becomes harder to ignore what you truly feel for them. Now it might be platonic but what about later on in the future where you look at them and suddenly think about planning a future with them.’

Now at this point neither Ford nor Stan truly understand what they felt for you at the time, they only thought they were being your protective friends who’d glare at whoever from behind your back if they caught them looking at you weird. They thought they were looking out for you much like you did for them as they stood on either side of you like two towering towers.

After all they didn’t have that many friends besides each other form such a young and so having you in their corner made you all the more special to the brothers.

You and Stan would playfully rough house, doddle in the margins of a notebook or write in code that you’ve only just made up on the spot to one, another and just do dumb goofy stuff in your spare time.

You and Ford would read, come up with theories about the things in New Jersey to make them more interesting than they were, go on a ‘monster chase of the week’ type of adventures when you were bored and in need of thrills.

Stan and Ford were your boys and you would have their backs no matter what as they always had yours in return. Much how like you made Cathy’s life hell after she threw punch at Ford, thinking that standing in solidarity with him as you and Stan both threw punch at each other and making a right ass of yourselves in order to make Ford feel better.

You and Stan then tp’d the bitches house and probably caused property damage but if they couldn’t see the person who did it, then did it actually happened in the first place? (Stans logical explanation to why tp someone’s house in the dead of night was a great guise.)

Or the time you had gotten stood up on a date and Stan threatened the beat the little shit up while Ford - equally as upset at the coward who stood you up- was more focused on comforting you and reminding you of your self worth and how it should be dictated by you alone and not some temporary crush.

You thought that it would be you, Ford and Stanley against everyone, that you’d get to live with them until you were old and grey but life ultimately took you and Ford in different directions from Stanley, who at this point had resorted to conning people for a living after being kicked out of the house by his cunt of a father.

The rift between the brothers that you though wouldn’t split from another for more then five minutes was larger then you’d like to admit, and it broke your heart to see them stand across from one another rather then beside each other.

Your parents refused to take him in afterwards despite your begging and pleading that you’ll do better in school if they house Stanley for a while. Needless to say you were gutted about not having your friend in your life that you didn’t take to your parents for a good while.

You did fairly well in school and ended up in Backupsmore university with Ford, who found a new friend in fiddleford and spent countless days and nights in the library doing extensive studies on the abnormal and the mysterious. You and Ford didn’t have as much time for each other as you use to as kids, that and you couldn’t contact Stanley who was god knows where, god knows what and getting into a fuckton of trouble. You missed it when days were a hell of a lot more simpler but that’s not how life worked and you were being told this constantly.

Ford was excelling at everything while you were average at best and while Ford tried to help, he could tell your heart wasn’t in to listening what he had to say and he knew the reason why.

‘You miss Stan.’ He says one day when you came to his dorm for help.

‘And you don’t seem to miss him one bit.’ You replied as you doodled a cartoon version of yourself, Stan and Ford celebrating a well earned victory over some weird lake monster that had a comedically large bump on it head.

‘He ruined his own life y/n why can’t you accept that.’ He reminds you but it was obvious that you weren’t so willing to hear him out as you use to be. ‘I could’ve helped him Ford, I could’ve!’ You cried.

‘But he didn’t want your help, he was on the path of self destruction and he didn’t want you getting caught in the aftermath of it all.’ Ford said as he placed his hand on your shoulder, much like you did to him when you were younger. ‘Stan is stubborn but wouldn’t avoid you for no reason.’ Ford adds as you look at him.

‘And how would you know that?’ You asked, brow raised.

‘Because I wouldn’t avoid you for no reason either.’ Ford admitted and you swore your saw a blush cut across his face. This conversation never gets brought up again by Ford as no matter how often you reminded him of it, he’s try to change the subject to something else entirely with a nervous laugh and shifty eyes.

You knew something was up and hated being left in the dark but you knew Ford was equally as stubborn as his brother, whether that’s something he’d like to admit or not. However life moved on and so did you as soon you found yourself becoming Ford’s assistant and moving to Gravity Falls, a small town not on any map but had a reputation for being a little odd much like its residence.

[chuluoyi]

i love your comedy and fluff! but my masochistic heart is itching for more angst to fluff for gojo🥲 and i have this brainrot ever since i read "baby", "protect" and "wife": childbirth gone wrong, that's why he is sooo concerned about your wellbeing during your maternity leave~

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 09:45 P.M 」

tw: childbirth. there are two very same ask for this now and so that's the cue for me to practice my crack/angst more :3 okay this is basically an extended version of protect's epilogue and oh, it's a happy ending! mini sequel -> 11.10 p.m

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always doing whatever you want! ow!”

“deep breaths, sweets. deep brea—”

“easy for you to say! you don't contribute anything other than shoving that damn stick into me! and now i’m left with the consequences!”

“i kindly remind you that you very much enjoyed my stick that night—”

“i hate you!”

satoru looked at your tear-streaked face and patted you in the head—his notable love language, erupting into laughter. “of course you do.”

lying on the hospital bed, tears welled up in your eyes as you roasted your husband and your contractions kept getting closer together. three hours after you woke up to your labor pains, all you could feel was that you were ready to burst.

gripping his hand tight, you purposefully dig your nails in just to spite him. “i’m serious. i hate you. you’re not putting me up for this again!”

“you say that now, but the moment we are home, those words are going to be null and void,” satoru snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood, ignoring the slight pain you inflicted on him, because what was this compared to what you were going through?

but his facade dropped as soon as breath was knocked out of you and you whimpered. he instantly gathered you in his arms.

“hey, hey... take deep breaths...” when you did, he planted a tender kiss on your damp forehead. “that's it, there you go... the baby's going to be here real soon, okay?”

you panted, limp in his hold as dull pain overwhelmed you. “yeah... your baby.”

“our baby, love. not just mine,” he corrected, smiling. he had one hand on your swollen belly, palming the subtle firmness, and gently rubbing it. “our munchkin.”

“i’m just the container though.”

“heh, no,” he chuckled softly. “you're everything.” his eyes crinkled affectionately, a hint of laughter still in his voice, and your heart actually melted when he whispered: “my everything.”

truthfully, despite your bravado, you were scared shitless. yet, as you nestled your head against your husband's strong chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his reassuring heartbeat, and when you gazed into his eyes, you were sure, because he exuded confidence as if he had no doubts that this was going to go perfectly fine.

and so holding onto him you did. he held your hand through it all, talked you through your pain, and you were so, so grateful to have him by your side.

the next hour was a blur, as excruciating pain blinded your senses. you were wailing when everyone told you to push, and you gave it your all. you kept it up even as you felt like being torn apart.

and before you knew it, cries unlike any other, ones you had only imagined until that moment, echoed through the room.

“he's here!” satoru's hitched voice reached your ears, and you went slack, falling back to the sheets.

you were completely spent and all you could register was that the cherished baby both you and satoru had been waiting for was here. you shivered, your mind tuning in and out—lightheaded, wondering why you felt so drenched down there.

“holy shit! i can't believe it! i can’t—” if you were awake enough, you would realize that it was one of the rarest times when satoru was choked with emotions. he turned to you. “i—”

and suddenly you felt strange. an eerie chill seemed to engulf your entire being. your hand slipped from satoru's grasp as your vision dimmed, the world growing darker.

“are you okay? hey—” his voice sounded distant, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. satoru finally realized that something was wrong, as his six eyes discerned the rapid dwindling of your cursed energy, and the room reeked of the tangy scent of blood.

you barely made out the nurse's shouting next. “blood pressure is dropping!”

"come on!" now he was utterly panicked and tried to get a hold of you, shaking you slightly. “hey, stay awake—look at me, i’m right here, please—”

but to his horror, your head lolled back as you lost your consciousness. soon, he was thrown out of the delivery room. just like that, in one sick twist, his world was crumbling down hard and fast.

a sense of helplessness washed over him as he stood outside the room, barred from being by your side. inside, you were bleeding out, and he was unable to do anything but wait.

didn't he say he would protect you with everything he had? once again, gojo satoru was humbled—not everything was in his grasp. he couldn't save those chosen by fate not to be saved.

suddenly, it felt like suguru all over again, except the stakes were higher. he shuddered—his fist clenched so hard that it drew blood, while his other hand clutched his chest, desperately willing the searing pain away.

would he really lose you this way? the sheer thought made his ears ring. no fucking way. even hell knows he'd go berserk. would fate really let him decimate anything in his path? surely, no... right?

he was unaware that he had been murmuring these silent prayers when the doors slid open, revealing the doctor who had been assisting with your delivery earlier with the news. it was a case of a postpartum hemorrhage, she said, an unfortunate incident.

all things considered, you were going to be okay. that knowledge alone was enough to make him breathe freely once more.

when he was allowed to see you, the moment your eyes blinked open, the first thing he did was burying his head in the crook of your neck.

and there you have it—the first time you had ever seen him really shaken to the point of shedding tears.

“you scared me,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “i—i can't stop thinking— if you really left me—”

“i’m fine now...” you were somewhat wonderstruck by the knowledge that you had this potent hold over him. oblivious to how your soft voice calmed the depths of his soul, you stroked his hair, and he breathed in your scent, grateful to every force imaginable for returning you back to him.

“sleep,” he gently pulled away, his eyes rimmed with red, his fingers caressing your cheek. “you need it. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

“the baby—”

“they just cleaned him up. he's resting too,” satoru reassured with an impossibly tender smile, and his next words made your heart lurch.

“my strong girl, you did it. you're a mother now… thank you. thank you... for making me the father to our child.”

you felt like you might burst into tears. you felt so loved, so secure, even after you went through the most challenging ordeal in your life. and as you drifted to your rest, you could hear the love of your life whisper in your ear ever so lovingly—

“i know i have said it before, but i’ll say it again. with everything it is that i have, i swear to you, nothing will befall you and our baby, for i will spare nothing and give everything for both of you... even my own life.”

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — fucking your enemy doesn't really sound like a good plan or wait, maybe it does! <3

warnings — enemies to lovers, fingering, playful childe, fem! reader

childe always approaches you with that damn smirk on his face, his gaze intense and unwavering, a sprinkle of confidence playing on his lips.

the harbinger had always been your enemy, the embodiment of danger and excitement, and despite the many battles the both of you had fought, you couldn't lie to yourself but admit that there was an undeniable pull between you— a connection you refused to acknowledge, even to yourself at times.

"ah, you fought well today," childe's was barely out of breath as he throws his hands up in the air to feign defeat, his voice low and husky, a dangerous edge to his tone, "but you're not as strong as you think you are, heh."

without batting your lashes, you glare back at him with your body tense of anger, every single nerve inside on edge, "—and you're still as arrogant as ever, childe."

fuck, how much he adored it whenever you showed him a little of your sweet temper, it's a little salty too but he doesn't mind that— in fact, it gets him going and arouses something deep below.

naturally his smirk widens the moment you say it, his eyes darkening with something far more primal that he'd originally let on, "me? arrogant? oh am i? or am i just confident?"

you roll your eyes and before you could even find a good enough response, he instantly closes the distance between you in a swift stride— without haste, folding your spirit in half with his presence becoming overwhelming.

in an attempt to turn around and leave his hand grabs towards your arm, gripping your wrist with a surprising gentleness that was never experienced before by you, yet with the strength you've known far too well, one that left no room for escape.

"you think you can hide it from me? i can see it in your eyes, you know," he murmurs underneath his heightened breathing, slanting towards your face closer and closer until you could feel his warm breath against your ear, "the way you look at me, you see? the way your body reacts when I'm near like that— ugh, you're so shy, but I know you've been dreaming about this, as have i, or haven’t you?"

your heart races at the absurdity in his sentence— or was there even a sprinkle of a lie inside of it? how long until you cannot run from the feelings you harbored for him anymore? or was it simply lust that kept the drive inside of yourself working.

a mixture of fear yet also excitement floods your senses— you really wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the truth was, his words struck a deep chord within you, you're doomed and yes, in fact, you had dreams about him— of feeling him inside you, feeling his cock twitch and thicken while he's grinding himself in you, fucking your tight cunt as the fantasies of surrendering to the raw, forbidden desire consumed you.

you knew he must be good in bed, amazing even, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't with that striking personality of his.

"cut the crap childe, i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer back, but my dear, don't you hear? your voice betrayed you just this second, right in front of his eyes as you began to tremble with the weight of your secret longing dying to be set free.

"oh? but i think you do," he whispers before saying your name so sensually that it felt like someone's set your body on fire.

the man continues as his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck;

"you've wanted this for so long, right? this—"

and before you could muster a response, his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss that made your brain rewire, the touch of his lips strong and ruthless as one hand slid up to cup the back of your head, holding you firmly in place.

you weren't surprised by how childe kissed you, in fact, you imagined how it felt like— granted, it was better than you originally fantasized.

the kiss was rough, as if he was looking for an answer, and it shattered the last bit of your very resistance as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body igniting with a fire you had tried so hard to suppress— yet, was it actually bad that you went against your own beliefs? just this once?

of course, you both were on different sides, supporting different agendas but this— fuck, this, it felt so good, why was the darkness childe expelled so mesmerizing? like biting into a poised apple and still relishing in getting tainted?

the harbingers hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he had every right to do this and his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine before he pushed you against the cold stone wall, the contrast between the cool surface and his heated skin only heightening your needful senses.

although before going further, he abruptly stopped the kiss, at last lapping across your bottom lip and seeking your gaze, "tell me you want this, i need this," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising energy, "tell me you've dreamed of this moment too."

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt the grip on you tighten. each one of his touch, his breath hitting your skin and his words played into your beating heart and you couldn't, you just weren't able to stop your body from liking this.

your back arches a little as to show him without words, without needing to admit it— right now, you weren't sure if you could ever say it out loud.

like snowfall, his touch was cold, but it felt oddly comforting.

but you let him move forward as one hand slips beneath your clothes, finding your wetness between your thighs, your folds messed up and puffy for him. "childe i— i... i want this too," you admit against your own volition, the words tumbling out before you could even stop them, "i’ve dreamed of you, childe, maybe..."

you got him now— or, does he have you wrapped around his finger instead? regardless, his eyes blaze with a glistening triumph hanging over his irises as he captures your lips again.

he begins slowly, his fingers working around your hole with expert precision, circling your entrance and collecting your slick with such precision which you originally only knew of his ways of fighting as he coaxes out every inch of your pleasure.

you're writhing and hiding your moans into his chest, the volume of your whimpers growing when he pokes one finger in.

with a growl, he rips your shirt aside to expose your breasts, the fabric tearing in his haste— and before you knew it, his own jacket followed as you helped discard them quickly.

"look at me," he commands, "feel how i touch you there," as his voice resembles a rough whisper.,"i want to see the look in your eyes when i touch and touch you,"

you obeyed, meeting his gaze, your breath hitching as he thrusts one finger into you with a single, powerful flick forward.

the sensation was immediately overwhelming, not due to the fact that he was beginning to stimulate your hole with fast thrusts of his digit fucking in and out of you but the sole thought of childe doing it was the final nail in the coffin.

your heart was beginning to hurt from riding his fingers, furiously rattling against your ribcage as you threw out the last amount of dignity you had inside your body, becoming one with the movements of his hand before starting to seek it.

his wet tongue drags from your neck towards your collar bones before reaching your nipples, immediately taking one in his mouth as the heel of his hand began to press into your clit painfully hard, the feeling only multiplying when you shoved yourself into it more, better and deeper, until your body flashes you with a heat you cannot escape.

one more finger, more, and each pump turned rougher and moredemanding with the pace of his hand being relentless, cruel as you almost climaxed by just looking at him— how his wet lips left a trail of saliva on your slicked chest and ugh, that delirious glimmer in his eyes. 

childe truly likes the feeling of you clenching around his knuckles, he might become addicted to it, and he believes he'd actually die a happy man if he'd be able to feel you squeeze around his thick cock like that.

but you have to do it just like that, with your pussy drooling over his desperately and touch depraved, so he could taste you right after, yeah? have you all around his tongue.

he's not sure if he can even fit inside, ah, how excited he gets when he imagines your eyes glow and turn all big and pretty when he lets you see him from below his clothes— he knows for a fact he will make it fit.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[nerdy-novelist017]

Little Bunny (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

First time writing fanfic in years but what can I say? I see Austin Butler smoking a cigarette and giving Bedroom Eyes™️ and I'm suddenly a poet. Enjoy!

Part 2 here

Word Count- 2.7k+

Summary- Being surrounded by loud motorcycles, drunk bikers and hungry eyes was not something you'd ever experienced before. Neither was the intense blue gaze of a certain blonde biker.

*****

You didn’t belong here. That much was obvious. You in your white dress blowing softly around your thighs from the summer’s evening breeze. You in your kitten heels sinking into the mud beneath you. You . . . holding your Tupperware filled with homemade cookies. You felt the eyes of just about every person there burning into you as you walked across the grassy field, trailing slightly behind your friend as she made her way to the picnic benches in the center of what looked to be a makeshift race track. 

This is not at all what you pictured when Kathy had told you last night about a cookout and race she was going to. She had said that it was hosted by one of her friends in a club and that you should come to. You were just going to gently shoot her proposition down, but with one of your New Year's Resolutions being to push yourself to be more outgoing and attempt to break the shy vice that often gripped you tight, you reluctantly agreed. In a pathetic attempt to get the nerves to go away, you were up all night baking, something you found to be therapeutic as it gave your hands a task other than nervously tapping on something. Kathy didn’t specify what kind of club she was in, but she was always friendly and outgoing so you really had no idea what to expect, going in blind. When she made a comment about your choice of heels for the environment, you raised a brow, offering to run back inside to change. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she had said as she grinned at you from behind the wheel. “I think the club is goin’ ta love you.”

Standing here now . . . you would have never guessed this was the kind of club she was a part of. Sure, you noticed how her clothing changed some and she smoked a lot more, but seeing her interact with these bikers was shocking. She was like a different person. No, not different. She was still the same Kathy you had been friends with since 8th grade. She was just more confident now.

“Hey, who’s your new friend, Kathy?” someone called from your left. You glanced over at the many sets of hungry eyes that raked over your body as if they were a pack of wild dogs and you were a small rabbit. Your eyes widened as you looked to your other side to find a crowd gathered there too. “Introduce me to your little friend.”

“Fuck off, Richie,” Kathy called out nonchalantly, not even sparing them a look. You quickened your pace to be right on her heels, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the possibility of being left alone to these people.

“Kathy, I–I don’t think I should be here,” you whispered but if she heard your words, she ignored them. “When you said club, I was expecting a–a book club or something. . .”

“Don’t be silly.” She glanced at you over her shoulder, a smirk capturing her features. “I didn’t think I belonged neither, but look at me now. ’Sides, this club is way more fun than books, trust me.”

Before you could protest anymore, she led you to a table and you nearly collided into her when she stopped abruptly, your eyes still jumping around to the leather jackets and grime covered faces. You move to stand beside her, attempting to grab her arm and signal that you wanted to leave but she didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she pointed a finger at the man sitting in the middle, legs spread leisurely, cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

“This is Johnny, he runs this club,” she introduced, moving along down the line. “That’s Brucie and his wife Gail. This big dumb idiot is Cockroach.” He throws a beer cap at her but she ducks out of the way. “That’s Cal and Corky behind them. . .”

With each member she introduced, you felt your courage sinking further and further into the ground. They each (including the woman) had an air of intimidation that screamed don’t fuck with me. Their leather jackets and ripped jeans hardened their appearances and you felt extremely out of place with your perfectly curled hair and manicured nails. They looked like people your parents had warned you to stay away from your entire youth. Growing up with difficulty making friends has left you somewhat naive and you’d never been around a crowd like this.  Yet suddenly, here you were, a helpless gazelle tossed directly into the lion’s den. Your heart pounded in your chest and you’re sure every person here can hear it echoing off the metal bikes surrounding you. 

“. . . and that’s Benny,” she finished and nodded in the direction of the person on the furthest left. Your eyes travelled up his long legs which are stretched out over the seat, up to where he’s sitting on the table. Your gaze lingered for a moment over the cigarette smoke pluming from between his lips before finally locking with his, and it took your breath away. It was like all the boys you had ever known in life, the ones you had been out on boring dates with, were just that – boys. This was a man. That was evident in his furrowed brow, his dark and unreadable expression, the way his piercing gaze moved from your face down to your toes and back up again. Trouble, his aura screamed, run far away from me. And you desperately want to grab Kathy’s arm and beg her to take you home, but she’s already moved away, making her way over to a cooler of beers, leaving you standing before them like an offering. You think maybe she had asked you if you wanted one before she left, but it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of your heart in your ears, and even harder to focus on anything besides not breaking the intense eye contact the blonde in front of you was maintaining. 

“Whatcha got there?” someone from the table in front of you asked and you blinked, snapping back into the present. 

Benny had never seen anything like you. He watched from his seat atop the table as you blinked down at your pink Tupperware bowl. You looked like a doll freshly plucked straight from the box, every hair perfectly in place and not a speck on your pretty dress. The thought of running his hand up your thigh and dipping beneath the hem of that pristine dress, leaving a smudged trail of grease along your clean skin corrupted his mind, setting his teeth on edge with desire. The sun was just beginning to set over your left shoulder casted you in a warm glow that seemed almost ethereal, a picture of innocence and unspoiled charm. Your eyes, almost comically wide, glanced back up to him only for a second before moving to the others to find the owner of that previous question.

“Cookies,” you said so softly that Benny could barely hear you from where he was. And he knew then and there that he was a goner. 

The familiar pop of a motorcycle backfiring echoed through the air and you practically jumped out of your skin at the sound. You were just a little bunny, he mused, a smirk pulling at his lips. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself off the table, flicking the rest of his cigarette butt to the ground and stood to his full height. Driven by a fervor burning deep in his belly, it only took him a few strides before he stood in front of you, close enough to smell the sweet perfume you were wearing, close enough to see the blush tinting your face, close enough to touch you.

“What kind of cookies?” he asked in a low voice, hoping not to scare away this little bunny.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the parked cars and, for a moment, Benny thought you might try to book it, but then you moved your chin back and suddenly you were gracing him with your beautiful gaze again. He noticed the slight tremble of your slim fingers as they removed the lid and held the bowl out in an offer. In that moment, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken connection, a promise of worlds colliding. No, he’d never seen anything like you.

“They’re chocolate chip,” you replied, eyes fluttering to the middle of his chest to avoid eye-contact. 

He lifted a hand slowly, dipping his head in an attempt to catch your eyes once more. He waited patiently until your gaze fluttered back up to meet his before he raised a brow in question. You gave just the slightest nod, and he dipped his hand into the bowl, retrieving one of your cookies.

You were locked into place, knees weak and head swimming as you watched him bring your cookie up to his lips. You wanted to look away, hell, you wanted to run away. But you couldn’t. You were drowning in his ocean eyes, unable to breathe as he bit into the cookie. Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth as he swiped at it with the back on his hand, the muscles of his forearm flexing beneath tanned skin.

“Take her for a ride, Benny!” someone shouted from behind him and you suddenly remembered the rest of the group.

“Show her how to ride, Benny!” More egging. You took a hesitant step back, holding the bowl to your chest as if it would somehow deflect their teasing. You peeked around Benny trying to get Kathy’s attention, but she’s already sat down at another table, conversing with a small group of women. The women looked just as mean and tough as the men and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You take another step backwards. This was a mistake. You should have never come here. You needed to go home. These people – these animals – would eat you alive. The idea of just walking home crossed your mind briefly. But you were miles from your house, and you weren’t exactly sure where you even were – some farmhouse out on the other side of town. You needed to get Kathy aside to ask her to drive you home. 

“You ever been on a motorcycle before, Little Bunny?” Benny asked you, his voice hushed and almost drowned out by the razzing from behind him.

Your brow furrowed at the nickname. Was he making fun of you? Daring to look into his ruggedly handsome face again, you attempted to read his expression for any signs of malice. Surprised to find something kind swirling in his eyes, your lips parted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. “Mm-mm,”

He flashed a glimpse of his white teeth with a secretive smile as he took a step closer. “Can I be your first?”

“What?” Suddenly your mouth felt as though it were filled with cotton. 

He nodded over at the lineup of motorcycles to your left and waited for his question to fully sink in. You tilted your head, wondering if the double inuendo was intentional or if everything that came out of his mouth dripped with an underlying sensuality.

Trouble, trouble, trouble. That word rang out in your head like a siren, attempting to warn you and that’s when you realized that there wasn’t an ocean in his eyes. It was a blazing fire. There was a fire in his eyes and it threatened to burn every complacently comfortable thing inside you, threatened to burn every perfectly built wall surrounding your heart. 

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I don’t like going fast and I know that’s what you . . . bikers do.”

Was that a polite response? You weren’t sure because the smile on his face grew despite the fact that you just declined his offer. Any time you’ve ever rejected a man’s offer, they’d frown, grumble under their breath and walk away. But this man — Benny— just stood there, sliding his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket, tilting his head slightly as he stared down at you with a smile. He was confusing!

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you sidestepped him, quickly approaching the picnic bench Kathy had migrated to. Your cheeks burned as a few members of the crowd whistled. You set the Tupperware bowl on the table and several hands dipped in to retrieve the goods as you planted yourself next to Kathy. 

“Is this a gang?” You whispered to your friend and she laughed into her beer bottle. Since when did she drink beer?

“Gee, that Benny sure is a hunk, huh?” She deflected your question as she raised an eyebrow at you suggestively. 

Feeling his gaze still burning into you, you didn’t risk a glance back at him. “I don’t feel comfortable here, Kathy.”

“Do you want a beer?” She asked as she placed a cold one in front of you. 

“No,” you replied quietly. “Can we go now?”

She sighed. “Alright, fine. Can I finish my beer at least?”

You nodded but your relief was short lived when another biker woman sat down from across Kathy and began talking with her. Agonizing minutes ticked by. You drummed your fingers on the worn wooden table top, watching as Kathy sipped leisurely from her beer. Someone shouted as the racing bikes fired up, startling you. That’s it. 

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” you told Kathy and ignored the disappointment on her face as you stood and spun. You halted in your tracks when you find Benny still standing where you left him, still watching you. You kept your head down as you walked past him quickly making your way to the car. 

Weaving in between other cars and motorcycles parked in the far field, you breathed a sigh of relief when you made it to Kathy’s car. Once sitting inside the passenger seat of her pickup truck, you slammed the door shut behind you. Embarrassment burned your core and you groaned as you brought your hands up to cover your face. They probably thought you were some niave girl who was afraid of her own shadow. And you probably were but you clung to the slight relief that you would never have to see any of these people ever again. 

You jumped at the knock on your window. A tall figure stood outside your door and your heart jumped into your throat as you scrambled to roll down the manual window. Benny stooped over and held up your pink Tupperware bowl. 

“You left this.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “I’d say they were a hit.”

You glanced down at the empty bowl in shock. You had baked two dozen cookies and they were gone within minutes of leaving it on the table. A smile tugged at your lips at the thought of someone appreciating your hard work. “Thank you.”

You reached for the bowl, fingers brushing softly against his. A jolt of electricity traveled up your arm, through your chest before settling hotly in your lower belly. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as he lowered himself to lean against your door, arms resting over the window frame. His eyes roamed over your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. Your mind struggled to find something to say to him to get him to go away but all thoughts were halted in their tracks as his eyes found yours again. Instinctively, you felt yourself leaning in a little closer to him, your faces only inches apart. 

“Can I at least give you a ride home?” His gravely voice broke through the thick silence. 

“Kathy is—” you started as you glanced over his shoulder to the direction of where you left your friend. Your words died on your tongue as you noticed her surrounded by a small group now, a fresh beer in her hand. 

Your gaze returned to him and you felt heat creep up your neck. “I—I’m wearing a dress though. . .”

“I’ll be sitting in front of you. Nobody will be able to see anything.” 

You fixed him with an incredulous expression before looking away. Silence settled between you again and you waited for him to walk away. Only, he never did. He just . . . waited.

"Are you just going to keep asking?" you griped as you turned to look back at him.

"I like to think of it as more of an offer." There was a teasing undertone laced in his words and you narrowed your eyes at him to keep from smiling.

“I won’t drive fast,” he said softly and your heart fluttered at the gentle promise. 

Trouble. Your head still reminded you even as you found yourself getting hypnotized by the intense blue of his eyes, so close to yours. Despite the sincerity in his eyes, there was still that darkness, that fire that burned through. That burning fire, threatening to cover a dark past. And you could see it, there was a dangerous undertone in that fire. Trouble, and yet you couldn’t hide the smile as your fingers reached to open the door. 

This fire you needed to touch — at least once, just to see how hot it truly burned. 

[eriscary]

Reference sheet of Tear who finally made their appearance in Passing Ghost. I have been waiting to post them, wanting to have that sweet reveal in the comic before it. I am withholding some info due to spoilers or because I want it to be known after the comic is done, which shouldn't take long prolly. Here we go… __________________

Biography: Tear!Sans is a puppet body possessed by a Napstablook whose greatest wish was to become Sans and see the multiverse. He created his body from mix and matching puppets made by Error!Sans. This [REDACTED]

Appearance: Because Tear’s body is a puppet, his bones are plush and have visible stitches. He wears white gloves to hide stitches, but his forehead has the most obvious line of them. He also wears Napstablook shaped headphones and a white coat with a purple hood. Its backside has a pattern of two tear drops forming an upside-down heart. Underneath it is a beige scarf, white shirt and black shorts.

Personality: Tear used to naively believe that everyone is good hearted and tried to be polite even in situations he shouldn’t. His AU got a lot of Sans variant visitors that he observed curiously from afar. Through observation he learns of the multiverse and wishes to experience it. Even wishing to become Sans himself, so he would feel important, loved and blend in more with the multiverse travelers. Finally achieving a feat of possessing a puppet body with a resemblance to Sans, gave him some momentary confidence. [REDACTED] finally understood not everyone is sunshine and rainbows. This made him more nervous of new people than he already is. He spends much of his time training to behave like Sans, failing at making good puns and stressing over not being lazy enough for Sans standards. He works too hard to be one, believing it would give him everything he wanted and [REDACTED]. After all, Sans surely blends into crowds with ease. They saw it with their own eyes. Tear also goes as far as using a great deal of effort into shaping his tears to be gaster blasters and bones. It hinders his speed, although even with this he is as fast as an original Sans, but fails at matching him in damage. Most of the time he feels like he isn’t good enough, both as his old self and Sans. The new life makes him believe it’s his responsibility to do everything Sans took care of too. He blames himself for everything. [REDACTED][ACCESS DENIED]. As a ghost, he felt very touch starved.

Abilities: - Tears: When Tear!Sans cries, his tears hurt anyone on contact. He can manipulate his tears and cry on command. They also leak out naturally. - Shaping tears: Tear!Sans often controls his tears to take a certain shape like his top hat, but usually gaster blasters and bones in hopes of mimicking Sans. Such objects cannot be held by anyone else, as they would take damage. Tear!Sans cannot replicate blue attacks. - Phasing: Tear!Sans can will his body to phase through things, just like when he was a ghost. His body gets more transparent or straight up invisible. Unlike his ghost self, this time it requires magic. When too emotionally overwhelmed, he will unintentionally phase. It will stress him more if it's a comforting touch he was about to receive but couldn't. - [REDACTED]

In battle: Tear's strength is on par with Classic Sans. He doesn't hit as hard, yet keeps up by attacking faster. But because he loses speed by shaping his attacks, he is overall weaker. His boss fight is also shorter because of him spending a lot of magic uncontrollably, before and during the fight. Unlike a Classic Sans or [REDACTED], Tear doesn’t remember SAVEs and RESETs. - [REDACTED] - [REDACTED]

Relationships: - [REDACTED]

Trivia: -Tear’s name has a double meaning. ‘To shed a tear’ and ‘tear something apart’. Different characters will say their name differently, depending on the personal opinion of them. - He is very soft to hug. - He is very light and his steps leave no sound. - His favorite food are Blueberries, or as he calls them, Boo Berries. - He occasionally calls the Player by a pet name “treasure”. - [REDACTED] - He gets excited at seeing any Sans or Papyrus, no matter how they look. - Used pronouns are He/They. - When terrified, Tear can unintentionally water blast the person through his eye sockets. - [REDACTED] __________________ Considering most AU sanses are stronger than Classic, Tear is prolly one of the weakest out there lol. He tries

[nathaslosthershit]

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time. 

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family. 

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?” 

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Love your writing! Can I request a hero that likes being controlled by the villain because they get relief from their anxiety/stressful life but they are denying it because they don’t want to admit to being overwhelmed?

"Oh god, you're back."

The villain smirked at that particular greeting and inclined their head in acknowledgement. "Long time no see, hero mine."

Anticipation had the hero's heart drumming double time. They shifted their weight, hold tightening on the battered strap of their rucksack. The street was empty, all curtains conspicuously drawn, but there was nothing actually blocking any exits. They could run. They weren't far from home. They might even make it.

"It's okay," the villain said, tucking their hands into their pockets. "You can try, I won't be offended. I know you prefer pretending that you don't like this. That you don't crave this."

"I don't."

"No?" The villain's tone was soft, but their eyes gleamed in the glow of the lampposts. Their gaze was somewhere between gently mocking and not so gently fond. "You're lucky you lie so pretty. It means I'll let you off with a warning. Just the one, because I've heard you've had a rough week."

The hero swallowed.

The week had been exhausting. Atlas would have buckled beneath the weight of the last week too. Anyone would. Wouldn't they? Maybe that was why, beneath the panic of seeing the villain again, there was a much more terrifying chasm of relief. Dizzy, desperate relief. The kind of longing that left a person brained by it. Dumb.

"You heard about that?" the hero asked, in a small voice, even if it was entirely not the point.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

The hero shuddered, to hear the villain say it so bluntly. Maybe if they hadn't, the hero could pretend - what? That somewhere along the way monstrosity and miracle had blurred together like wet watercolours?

"You could walk away," the hero said.

"I could," the villain agreed, placidly. They didn't move though.

"Would you if I asked you to?"

The villain's head tilted, considering the hero at that.

"Mm, I don't think so," they decided eventually. "Then you'd feel like you had to ask. It goes better when you don't have any choice in this matter, doesn't it?"

"You can't just - you can't say that."

"No?" the villain's lip curled up again. They closed the gap between them, casually confident. "You asked."

"Well, yes - but." The hero didn't have a good way to finish the sentence. Mainly because they should have been horrified. They were horrified! It was only..."You're not supposed to say it." The crack in their voice felt far too much like confession. "It's not right."

"Yeah. I'd say you should stop feeling so guilty about liking it so much, but honestly it's entirely too delicious watching you squirm."

The hero made a choked, incoherent sound in their throat. They took a step back, not remotely surprised when the villain's hand snaked eel-fast around their back.

"Ah, ah," the villain said. "You already had your chance to run. Go easy."

The hero felt the very moment that something switched in the villain's voice, their powers humming a siren song in the hero's bones. They felt their body turn to putty as they blinked at the villain, wide-eyed. Their hands settled comfortably on the villain's chest, not pushing back.

It wasn't...it wasn't exactly that their brain switched off, only that everything in them suddenly refused to fully recognise the danger. And there was danger, they knew that, but...

But for the first time since they'd last seen the villain, the knot in their chest loosened. They didn't feel one small straw or loud noise or well-meaning question away from bursting pitifully into tears.

"Good," the villain murmured. "Just like that. There you are. Deep breaths."

Up close, the villain took a moment to study them properly. The hero let them look. Minutes ago, they might have tried to hide, ashamed by the blatant dark circles under their eyes, by everything that the villain would see, but in that second...

The villain's lips thinned a fraction. "I've been away on business for too long, haven't I? Sorry about that."

"How was business?"

The villain didn't bother answering that question, more concerned with grazing their thumb along the swell of the hero's lip where they'd bitten it raw. Their eyes darkened further.

"You look annoyed," the hero said.

"You could have called me, you know."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why would you-" For a second, it seemed like the villain might say something. Then, they simply sighed, and shook their head, muttering something under their breath. They pivoted, so they were at the hero's side instead, snagging the hero's heavy bag onto their own shoulders.

"Walk." The command hummed through the villain's voice again. "I think we've both had enough of your idiot brain for today. You're done for the week."

Every time the villain let them go, it was harder to force themselves to leave.