#and had like a weird light headed feeling

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.

(Steve would do the same for her).

Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.

64 and going down. Not a good sign.

Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”

Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”

His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.

“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”

Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.

“This tastes like shit, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”

The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.

Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.

57 after he pricked. Thank god.

It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.

He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.

“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.

“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”

Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.

Chrissy would love her.

He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“How’s my blizzard?”

He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.

The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.

“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”

[eclipseslayer]

PRETTY PINK PANTIES

• TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

• SUMMARY: Toji catches a glimpse of your panties one morning and then gets drunk to take his mind off of it. However, his drunk mind seems to have other plans when he finds himself suddenly in your bedroom.

• CW: DARK CONTENT! Icky!dad!Toji, panty-sniffing, masturbation, incest.

• WC: 1kish

Another night, another drink.

Toji groans as he downs his fourth beer, feeling the weight of the liquid sit in his stomach, making for a rather unpleasant feeling. He scratches his stomach while he feels his head go into a woozy state from all of the alcohol he's consumed.

He grunts.

He wouldn't have to feel this shitty if he didn't drink to get over what he saw earlier today.

The memory keeps playing back in his mind like a broken record, and it makes Toji want to smack his skull against the wall, because he knows he shouldn't think about it, but, fuck, for some reason, he can't help it.

You were leaving early this morning to go to class. Toji was making himself some coffee, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you bend over to tie a loose lace on your sneaker, revealing your tight, pink panties beneath your skirt.

Toji quickly whipped his head away the second he laid his eyes on your underwear, not wanting to stare at them a second longer because he knew it was wrong.

But... fuck. Despite it all, he couldn't get those pretty pink panties that hugged your ass so well out of his head.

You're his kid. He can't be thinking like this.

Sure, he's always been kinda a deadbeat due to your mom missing in his life, but he couldn't do this to you.

He gets up from the couch, and, drunkenly, nearly stumbles over the coffee table.

No, he can't. He won't.

His head, clouded with the alcohol, makes the decision for him despite his nagging thoughts, as his mind takes control of his feet and moves them towards your room.

She's my fucking kid... can't do this—

Toji stumbles over his feet again but he catches himself on your doorframe.

Fuck.

He huffs; a heavy breath escapes him while he holds himself on the doorframe, and his eyes scan your room, looking for something that'll remove this weird attraction towards you—anything, especially something that'll gross him out or see you in a new bad light—

Ah, shit.

His eyes widen suddenly when he sees them: pretty pink panties, sitting on the floor of your room, discarded without a thought to the mind.

Toji's heart races in his chest, his throat constricting as if all the air has vanished. He can only manage a shaky exhale, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of fear that seeps into his mind.

What the hell am I doing? Toji wonders to himself, and yet, his feet take him forward again.

Slowly, one foot in front of the other, his feet drag him along, and Toji wants to grasp onto something, anything, maybe hold onto the doorframe to keep himself from sinking into this deep, dark hole, but, the alcohol clouds his restraint, making him lose himself to his deepest, darkest desires as he reaches down and picks up the pretty pink panties.

He swallows thickly as he stares down at the panties in his hands. His heart picks up its' pace again, and he lets out another shaky breath once he feels his cock hardening just from the sheer sight of the panties alone.

He looks around, looking for you, but then suddenly remembers you're still on campus, probably doing a late-night class.

His cock strains against his pants again, as if it's telling Toji to just do it—do what he needs to do and get it over with, so, hesitantly, he listens to his urge. He slowly lifts the panties to his nose and he inhales softly at first, but, once he gets a small whiff, he becomes quickly addicted and so he inhales. He inhales strongly as the fabric of the panties stick to his nostrils, filling his head with the scent of you.

And, God, do you smell good. Your panties smell warm, and ripe, like you had been sweating in them all day. There's even little bleach stains on the lining of the panties where your discharge had been.

Fuck.

If he could get his hands on you right now, he'd be the happiest man alive, burying his face between your thighs to smell and lick your pussy to death, until you'd be cumming all over his tongue, but he can't so his hand begins to grope his own hard dick through the fabric or his pants.

He groans, leaning his head back as he lets out a shaky sigh against the fabric of your panties. He keeps them on his face while his hands move down to slip off his sweatpants where he tugs on the grey hemline, slipping them down until the fall into a pool around his ankles.

He huffs when his eyes dart down to look at his dick poking through his underwear. He should be ashamed that he's this hard after smelling his daughter's underwear, but, he's too far in now to give a fuck.

He tugs his underwear down and lets it fall down around his legs and he sighs when he finally frees his cock from their constricting confines.

He pushes the panties to the side on his face so he can spit into his hand with ease, before bringing his hand back down to his aching cock where he begins to slowly pump himself.

He groans, lowly, as he revels in the smell of your panties. His cock throbs in his hand while he continues to smell deeply, imagining that this was your pussy right here in front of his face.

God, how he wishes it were so. He wishes his tongue was pressed deep into your pussy, tasting the sweat that had leaked from your body during the day. He wishes his lips were wrapped around your clit, sucking on it fervently while you would whine and moan about his good his tongue is. He wishes his fingers were curling inside you, over and over again so he could hear your wet, squelching cunt as it would gush around him.

He'd call you his "good girl" and would kiss your thighs, thanking you for letting him explore your body—which is something he's been wanting to do for what seems like a while now, as he finally admits it to himself.

He just can't help but get hard around you. He doesn't know why, but he does. He knows it's shameful, which is why he turned around so quickly this morning from catching a glimpse from your pretty pink panties.

Nevertheless, he grunts as he continues to pump his cock in his fist.

The pace is slow and lazy at first, as he wants to savor the smell of your pussy on his nose, but then, it grows more desperate, more needy as he imagines different scenarios with you.

Maybe he'll actually be inside of you one day, if he can convince you—as now, he's convinced himself that he wants this—or maybe he'll fuck that pretty mouth of yours and hold onto your hair while doing it.

"Ugh... haa... haa..." Toji moans as his breath starts to get heavy.

His grip tightens around his cock, focusing on the head of it which sends a jolt down his spine. He squeezes it, and lets out another groan, making his body shudder.

He inhales your panties again, and his pumping turns faster. He groans.

It's a constant cycle of sniffing, inhaling, and then pumping at a quicker pace, until Toji feels his balls tighten.

He brings his other hand down and squeezes his balls gently and then—

He cums.

He groans, loudly, and finishes right there in the middle of your room, shooting cum into his fist and some of it leaks onto the floor.

Breathing heavily, he hangs his head while his chest rises up and down, letting the panties fall back onto the floor, where they were.

He huffs, and a low chuckle erupts from him upon looking at the scene on the floor and his hand, as post-nut clarity finally hits him.

"Ah, fuck. What the hell have I done?"

[thelostconsultant]

Delicate. part 1

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

note: Lando invites everyone to his New Year's Eve party, but Charles convinces you to join him on a hunt for food.

You knew this New Year’s Eve party was important to Lando, you knew he wanted everyone to be there, so you put on a shiny, dark pink sequin mini dress, applied some light makeup, then headed out to the club that he somehow managed to reserve for himself. How long he’d been planning this, you had no idea, but he surely went a little overboard this time. I just want to be alone with my friends, that’s not a crime, he defended himself when you pointed this out to him a few weeks ago. 

At the party, you felt a little out of place. This was the first time in years you weren’t entering the new year on the side of your boyfriend, the one you had broken up with half a year ago. It was a mutual decision, the spark wasn’t there anymore, so you didn’t miss him, you just missed the idea of clinging to someone the whole night. It was pathetic, you hated yourself for feeling this way, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

Your best friend knew Lando, but she didn’t get an invitation because everybody knew she spent every New Year’s Eve on a yacht in the Maldives. She tried to convince you to go with her this year, but you didn’t feel like leaving Monaco for a place so far away, especially not when she would be all over her boyfriend the whole time. They were cute together, you loved them, but third wheeling wasn’t so inviting. 

You chatted with a few people, even let someone convince you to dance a little, but then you found a couch in the back of the club that you chose as your permanent spot for the rest of the night when you sat down with a cocktail in your hand. It was nice to sit back and watch the people around you celebrate, having the time of their lives from the looks of it. Despite the weird feeling you had since you arrived, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. At least they were happy. They were celebrating. 

You? You didn’t know what to look out for in the new year. Maybe you should get a job again. After you finished your studies, you worked for a consulting company for a year, but then you had enough of the excel files and the presentations, and decided to be nothing more than a carefree heiress in the future. Your grandmother, who came from a wealthy family with a long history, had always favored you over her children, including your mother. So, when she died, she left everything to you in her will. 

The peaceful people-watching activity was disrupted when you noticed someone plopping down next to you out of the corner of your eye. It annoyed you, really, but once you turned to look at who it was, your annoyance disappeared as if it hadn’t even been there. You didn’t really know Charles. Sure, he was on good terms with Lando, sometimes you attended the same parties, but the most you exchanged were probably a total of ten sentences in the span of years. But he had that calming aura around him, one that made you feel better, as if you were suddenly wrapped in a warm blanket. 

At first, you didn’t talk, there was no need for that. He just probably needed a place to sit down until he got a little rest before rejoining the party. Sipping your drink, you continued to watch the people, completely ignoring your neighbor. But then you began to have a strange feeling, as if someone was watching you, eyes burning a hole in you without knowing, and it didn’t take long to figure out it was him who was shamelessly ogling you. 

When you turned to him with a questioning look, he quickly shifted his gaze somewhere else, acting like he hadn’t just been caught in the act of staring at you. Shaking your head a little, you decided to ignore him for now. He was probably drunk and had no idea what was appropriate anymore. Although, he didn’t seem that out of it, in fact, he just looked tired with those dark circles under his eyes. 

And then you felt his thigh press against yours, shoulders touching after he moved closer to you. “I bet you don’t wanna be here either,” he said, leaning close so you could hear him over the music. Finally turning to acknowledge him, you give him a surprised look. “Lando was quite literally begging me to come tonight. I’m only here because I promised, even though I’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else,” he added. 

“If I could choose, I’d be sitting on my couch with a blanket around me, eating popcorn while holding a movie marathon,” you admitted with a smile. “But it’s impossible to say no to him.”

“Sad, but true.” His green eyes turned to the crowd in front of you, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers played with his bracelets. “I would give up my car for some popcorn. Or a pizza. Or some pasta. Anything, really, because I’m starving,” he told you as he looked back.

The last time you were around the other side of the club, there was a huge table with a lot of food, how could he not see that? But when you shared this little piece of information with him, he just laughed, and his bright smile reached his eyes too. You wondered what was so funny about this, but you soon got your answer.

“Yeah, that was true until about an hour ago. I was just about to finally eat something, but some guy grabbed the very last of the sliders I had my eyes on. The table is empty. There’s no food. We’re going to die.” He dramatically threw his hands in the air as he leaned back, glancing down at his watch. “It’s only eleven, I don’t know how long I’ll last. Do you think I will live until midnight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his question. But you weren’t laughing at him, you were laughing with him. Now that he mentioned food, though, you realized that you were quite hungry too. “Did you really have to bring up food?” you asked him with a disapproving look. 

Charles’s lips curled into a grin. “Now you’re hungry too, aren’t you?” When you nodded, he bumped his shoulder against yours. “It’s your fault for talking about popcorn,” he pointed out. “Although… Do you think Lando would notice if we left? He seems so busy partying that I highly doubt he would notice we’re not here.”

As your eyes scanned the crowd to find the host, you let out a thoughtful hum. The last time you saw him, which conveniently happened in the restroom, he was already on his way to get real drunk, and he was having so much fun you highly doubted he would care about some of his guests escaping. So, without thinking more about this, you turned to the Monegasque next to you and told him the answer is probably no. 

“Great,” he said as he jumped up and extended his hand for you to grab it. When you just watched him with a questioning look, he leaned down to take your hand and pull you up. “Come on, I know a place where we can hopefully get food.” And with that, he took your hand and pulled you towards the exit, not really giving you the chance to object. 

The two of you walked down the street, hands stuffed into the pockets of your jackets to fight the chilly night air, and you talked about music, movies, even about how Christmas went. You barely noticed that he came to a halt in front of a little bistro in a narrow street, holding up a pointer finger to ask for a second while he opened the door and peeked inside. 

He spoke with someone in French, exchanging words you couldn’t quite make out, then he reached out for your hand with a smile on his face and pulled you inside. There was a small group of people sitting around a table, happily discussing something until they noticed you standing there. At first, there was silence. But then they erupted in cheers while someone stood up and pulled Charles into a hug.

A man in his late thirties ushered you to an empty chair by the table that he pulled out for you, then he poured both you and the Monegasque driver a glass of wine. You watched as your new companion got comfortable across from you, already deep in a conversation with an older man who explained something with wide motions of his hand. 

Whoever these people were, they clearly welcomed him like he was family. The older man he was talking to called him son at one point, and Charles didn't flinch, he just smiled lovingly as he listened to the story. He was way more at ease here than he had been back in the club. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but those green eyes came to life in this new environment.

Someone placed freshly made sandwiches in front of you, and you didn't miss the small smile on his face when he glanced at you for a moment. A little explanation would have been nice, just so you would know whose company you were enjoying, but since he didn't bother to explain, you focused your attention on your food. And when you took a bite? God, it was heavenly. 

“Good, right?” When you glanced up, you noticed that a kind-looking, forty-something woman was now sitting on the chair next to you, her long brown hair flowing down her shoulders as her blue eyes watched you with a mischievous glint. “My father,” she began, motioning towards the man Charles was talking to, “opened this place because he wanted people to have actual conversations with each other while enjoying their food. Charles can have extremely long discussions with him about literally anything.”

Once you swallowed, you extended a hand to her to introduce yourself. After you got past that, you turned your finger around to show what you were about to say was related to everyone in this room. “So, is it a family event that he just crashed?” you wondered out loud. 

Marie let out a laugh as she shook her head. “Hardly. They're all friends through my father, though. We always gather here on New Year's Eve, but this is the first time Charles came. Although, based on the way he made his sandwich disappear so fast, I guess it was the food that brought him here,” she said with a wide smile. 

Guilt rushed through your body upon hearing this, because that's exactly what happened. But he seemed happy, maybe deep down he wanted to be here with his friends. They were so different from the ones you also hung out with, the F1 drivers and other celebrities. These were normal people, having normal conversations, acting genuinely and kindly. 

You got lost in a conversation, but soon it was interrupted when she glanced at the clock on the wall. 11:55 p.m. It was almost time. She excused herself and left to fill flutes with champagne, and before you knew it, you were all standing in a circle, counting down to midnight. Charles was standing next to you, smiling so much that his nose crinkled in the cutest way.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. 

And just when you wanted to join the group as they said happy new year, you felt a hand on the back of your neck, then a few milliseconds later, before your brain could comprehend what was happening, Charles's lips crashed into yours. It was slow and soft, he definitely took his time with you as if you weren’t surrounded by people. And just as abruptly as it began, it came to an end eventually. 

“It's in the law to kiss someone at midnight,” he said with a smile as he licked his lips.

For a while you were staring at him dumbfounded, but you managed to shake off this feeling and nodded after a short break. That’s true, it was a well-known tradition. Flashing a smile at him, you turned away to clink your glasses with the others, placing friendly kisses on their cheeks in the process, but Marie decided to pull you into a hug, treating you as if you had known each other for a long time. 

It felt nice. Unlike at the party, here you actually felt like you belonged. Sure, you and Lando were really good friends, and yes, you knew many of his friends, but none of them was a close friend of yours. Yet, despite not really knowing Charles, the fact he was so relaxed and happy among his friends made you happy too. It was a contagious feeling, and maybe it was related to the warm welcome here that lifted your mood. These people were so different from the ones you were used to in your everyday life. It was charming, really. 

You all sat down when someone pulled out a board game that seemed old and unfamiliar to you. But they were kind enough to explain the rules to you, and Charles even promised to help you throughout the game as he took a seat next to you. I only began to understand it around the third time we played it, so don’t be sad if you still don’t understand any of it by the end, he told you with a laugh. You returned his beaming smile, and in the next two hours or so you laughed a lot, argued a lot, and there was even some shouting when someone accused another of cheating. 

By the time they packed up the game, you were so tired you couldn't fight back your yawns. You glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed it was past three in the morning, and you knew it was time to go home now, because even though fun’s fun, there's a limit to everything. The thought of your soft bed was inviting, like a siren calling for you from the distance, and the idea of spending the whole day in it was the cherry on top.

“Going home?” Marie asked you with her hand resting on your shoulder, her tired smile giving away that she was probably also debating calling it a day. When you nodded, she let out a defeated sigh. “I wish I could go too, but I promised my father I'd stick around and help him clean up a bit after everyone left.”

Without thinking much, you pulled her into a hug. “I'm sure you could convince him to clean up tomo–well, later today,” you finished with a laugh. 

She leaned back to look at you. “And leave the dirty plates and glasses here? No, thank you. I'll just sleep a little longer, I guess,” she replied as she let you go.

Suddenly an arm landed around your shoulder, and based on the bracelets around the man's right wrist, it was a safe bet that the man was Charles. And sure enough, the driver's face came into view when he leaned into your field of vision. You watched him with a curious look in your eyes, but he didn't seem too interested in explaining what he wanted.

“I've already told this to your father, but thank you for hosting us, even though we arrived last minute without a warning,” he finished with a boyish smile before his green eyes turned to you. “But it's late, we'll head home now.” 

Marie kissed his cheek, then she reached out to squeeze your hand as a goodbye. “It was nice to have you both here. You know you can jump in anytime. And you,” she went on, turning to you, “would better not disappear on me. Let's have lunch together someday.”

“Of course. I'll give you a call tomorrow when we're both fully awake,” you promised with a smile.

The two of you said goodbye to everyone, then stepped out on the street, standing next to each other in silence. It felt like you had suddenly run out of topics to discuss, although after some thinking, you managed to find something you could bring up.

“You could've stayed a little longer,” you told him as your eyes found his face again. 

Charles laughed as he shook his head. “It's late, I could use some proper sleep too,” he admitted. As his eyes were focused on you, he bit on his lower lip and clearly thought about something. “Can I walk you home?” 

“That’s a nice offer, but I already called a taxi. Thanks for bringing me here, though. I had fun,” you said with a wide smile. It was true, you couldn't remember the last time you had been to such a nice New Year's Eve party. Your phone pinged to tell you the taxi was arriving, and when you noticed the car pulling up, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Sleep tight,” he told you quietly, but you could feel there was something else he wanted to say. 

In the end, he remained silent, and you got in the car that took you home. As you sat there with your eyes taking in how magnificent this city looked tonight, you couldn't help but think about how the party turned out. It was nice to get to know him a little better, seeing a side of him that maybe wasn't as visible from the outside as one would expect. If you had known how fun he could be, you probably would have become friendly with him sooner.

[spiderbeam]

and okay feel free to ignore this one because ive sent a bunch already buttt 🎧+max+7

🎧 — bugambilia by nasa histoires

Max is nervous. He hadn’t realized it until the bell dinged with his entrance, until you spoke your usual greeting, until your eyes met his and a smile spread over your lips. He’s a three time world champion, an icon of the world of motorsport, a celebrity—and yet he finds himself growing jittery at the sight of you.

Of course you’d be the type to fall for the one person in Europe who doesn’t know your name, Danny had teased.

He’d denied it. He didn’t have feelings for you. He had simply developed a fondness for flowers—and he just happened to like yours most.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you this soon.” You dust your hands on your overalls as you stand up to greet him. You look pretty in overalls, he finds. Prettier even with your hair held up by a bow—alongside that lovely smile that always makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. “Thought you said you were leaving the country for work.”

Max realizes then he’s stayed quiet for too long. “Um, yeah,” he starts awkwardly, hands tucked in his pockets before he takes them out soon after. What do people usually do with their hands? “I did. It was just for the weekend, though.”

“Did you have fun?” you ask, before meeting his gaze with a playful roll of your eyes. “I know, work is work, but…”

“It was fine,” Max clicks his tongue, hoping he doesn’t sound too dismissive. “Not great.”

“Sorry to hear that.” You purse your lips, thinking for a moment. “Maybe you can rant a little while I trim these?” You gesture at the newly arrived flowers.

Max chuckles a little. He’s done plenty of ranting. Mostly in front of a camera. “Actually, I was hoping to get to hear you talk about your flowers—maybe give me a hand?”

You straighten as you stand up, nodding. “What’s today’s purchase gonna be?”

“Another gift,” he says, even though he’s ran out of friends to gift bouquets to. Twice is two times too many before they start looking at him weird.

You nod your head, ponytail bobbing. “Alright.” You clasp your hands together, smiling up at him. “Wanna look around for something that catches your eye, or are you in search for anything in particular?”

Max tilts his head at you. “Which are your favorites this week?” He asked you the same question last time, and the time before that. But, as you told him before, you can’t make up your mind—not permanently, anyway. Each time he comes around, you have a different answer prepared for him.

This time, you’re grinning. “C’mon, I’ll show you.” And then your hand is in his as you steer him towards the very back of the shop—and Max can feel his breath stuttering. He blinks in rapid succession, hoping to get himself to snap out of it. Jesus Christ, you’re just holding her hand. Pull yourself together.

Finally, you stop beside a shelf with purple and fuchsia flowers with papery petals and tiny light yellow blossoms inside them. Max feels as you let go of him, prompting him to step closer to the flowers. He leans forward, hoping to catch some floral scent like the lilies and jasmines you gave him a few weeks back. He doesn’t smell anything.

“They don’t have a scent,” you tell him. “It’s bugambilia. Bougainvillea. It’s not usually used for bouquets, though, so people rarely buy any. Except for this one woman, Marisol—she says it reminds her of home. But she only takes a few branches, doesn’t really want them as a bouquet.” You’re smiling when he turns back to you. “They don’t grow around here—not naturally, anyway. It’s why I like them.”

“Bougainvillea,” Max repeats, committing the syllables to memory. “So you’ve never had to sell a bouquet of these?”

“Not yet.” You shrug. “It’s under appreciated, in my opinion. I mean—most people just buy roses. Maybe sunflowers.”

He remembers you ranting about that last week. How impersonal is it to give red roses to someone on a date? It’s like giving a gift card. No sentiment whatsoever.

And Max, surprisingly enough, agreed. He believes in personal gestures. Gifts that proof you’ve been listening, that you’ve been paying attention. And as he side-glances at you, he can see your stare still lingering on the purple and pink flowers. He doesn’t need to think it over before he’s saying: “I’ll take it.”

You nod in approval, reaching up to take a few flowers. “I knew you would,” you say proudly, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You’ve got good taste, Max.”

Max chuckles. “Not really,” he says, shaking his head. “I just happen to know someone who does.” He’s looking at you as he says it, scratching his cheek, but he can see your lovely smile falter slightly. His brows pinch together.

You haul your selected bougainvillea onto the counter, with Max trailing close behind. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who buys as many flowers as you do—not that I’m complaining.” You try to sneak a glance at him as you’re tying off his bouquet. Max relishes in the heat that crawls up your cheeks when he catches you.

This is his chance, he realizes. But then he’s running circles again because what if you think he’s creepy? That he’s been buying flowers from you in hopes of finally building up the courage to ask you out? It’s not only creepy, it’s pathetic. It’s been nearly a month since he first met you. It’s taken him a whole month to get to this. Stupid. And since when does he get nervous like this around girls? He’s Max Verstappen.

But you’re you.

“You okay?” you ask, peering at him. “You’ve been a little quiet today.”

“Yeah, sorry. Um, I just—” He means to ask you, he really does, but this one tiny detail doesn’t escape his attention as you leave the flowers on the counter, wrapped in pretty ribbons, ready for him to take home. He stares at you, dumbfounded. “I—I haven’t paid yet.”

Your expression sends butterflies fluttering around his stomach. “Consider it a gift. For keeping me company on a slow day.”

But Max is already pulling out his wallet out of his back pocket. “No, no, I can pay.”

“Max,” you say, voice caught somewhere between soft and stern. “It’s a gift. You don’t pay for gifts.”

He scratches his cheek again, a quirk of his you’ve come to find endearing. “Doesn’t this get taken out of your paycheck?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “No one buys bougainvillea. One of my coworkers would’ve probably ended up throwing them away.”

You’re dodging his question, and Max doesn’t know how to tell you that he can afford it without making it seem like he doesn’t appreciate the gesture.

You seem to decide for him when you grab the bouquet and hand it to him. Your fingertips graze his knuckles, shooting sparks beneath his skin. He should ask you now. You’re smiling like you don’t even know the effect you have on him.

“Your—”

“Would you—” Max clears his throat, pink on his cheeks. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

You smile again, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You laugh lightly, but it doesn’t sound as genuine. “Nothing—just that your girlfriend’s really lucky. I’d kill to have someone buy me as many flowers every week.”

“My—what?” Max blinks once. Twice. Three times before the words finally dislodge from his throat. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, your boyfriend?” you amend, playing with your fingers.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Max says bluntly. He’s still cradling his bougainvilleas as he watches realization wash over your face.

“Oh.” Heat is climbing up your cheeks, and for the first time all afternoon, you’re the one stumbling over your words. “O-Oh. I just thought that—I mean, since you’ve been coming around so much, and you’re like, handsome, and sweet, so I just assumed—”

“Do you wanna go out some time?” Max interrupts, ears tinted red. There’s a pretty blush spreading his face. A giddy nervousness building up in his gut. “With me, I mean. Do you want to go out with me?”

Your lips curl upward, heat radiating from your face. Max feels flowers growing in his chest. Hydrangeas, carnations, tulips, wisteria. Purple bougainvillea flowers.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

eve’s 1k celebration 🎧

this one was very loosely based on the song more on the vibes than the actual lyrics so i might revisit this song and make another more angstier drabble in the future….. for now i just recommend giving the song a listen <3 also i’m not used to writing for max AT ALL so hopefully it didn’t feel too ooc

[suhkusa]

You shiver a bit as the cool air breezes by, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The team should’ve been released already, now all you had to do was wait for Atsumu to come out.

You’re able to see Saki at a distance. She’s on her phone, a straight look on her face. You’re definitely on edge about her. But hey, if that’s Osamu’s girlfriend, you weren’t going to judge his taste. You’d only squint at it from afar.

You jump as a rough arm swings around your shoulder, pulling you close. 

“So, are you treating me out for winning today, or what?” the familiar voice quickly turns your worry to relief.

“God, you scared me,” 

Atsumu laughs at your surprised expression, guiding you along the sidewalk, “So? Don’tcha think I deserve it?”

You being your finger up to your chin in false thought, “Hmm, I don’t know,”

“Please, they said I was MVP,”

“Nah, I think it was ‘Samu,” he pouts at your words.

“You weren’t even watching! You were on your phone!”

He was looking at you?

“Nuh uh,” you deny, “But yeah, I’ll treat you somewhere, what are you feeling?”

Atsumu’s arm finally releases you, as he cheers and begins to list off his cravings.

——

The two of you get take-out from a nearby restaurant (you pay of course), before driving to a park in the area to settle down and eat.

You’re mid-bite when Atsumu asks, “What do you think of Saki?”

Your eyes widen before you quickly gulp down what’s in your mouth, “Um, she’s… alright?”

Atsumu laughs, “You don’t like her, huh?”

Your eyes wander awkwardly, giving him enough of an answer. “Me neither,” his answer shocks you a bit.

“Really?” you say before repeating back Saki’s words to Atsumu.

“She said that?” Atsumu dusts his hands off on a napkin. “To you?”

You nod, “Weird, right?”

The two of you share your worries and doubts regarding Saki, and for the most part, you’re in full agreement.

You finish your food shortly after he did. Atsumu collects the trash and disposes it nearby. 

“Care for a walk?” he holds his hand out to you.

You hesitate a bit before taking it, “Sure,”

It’s silent for a while until he finally breaks it.

“So, the kiss,” his words knock the breath out of you. “Let’s talk about it?”

All you do is nod. You’re scared. You completely forgot about the kiss. You were so caught up in the moment that it didn’t even cross your mind.

“I’m sorry it was out of nowhere, and I didn’t even ask,” he starts, “I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable,”

Your head snaps towards him, “What? Nono, it’s okay, I- I didn’t mind,” heat rushes to the tips of your ears.

It’s silent again. Your steps are out of rhythm with his, but you still match his pace.

It’s another moment before he stops walking where he is. You take another step before freezing as well.

“I like you, Y/N,” Atsumu says, your eyes finally meet his golden ones, “Like, a lot,”

Your gaze widens just slightly, and it feels like the words slipped out of yours, too, “I like you, too, ‘Tsumu,”

It’s not very long until his lips are on yours once again, head and heart filled with him and only him.

———

Even after the sentimental moment, the car ride back was twice as awkward than earlier moments. What were the two of you now? You weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to date right away.

“Are we like, dating or—”

“Not yet,” you swiftly cut him off, still with a light tone.

He nods in understanding. 

Your hand reaches over to his free one, your thumb smoothing over the back of his hand.

You were happy. This was good and you were happy with your relationship with Atsumu.

What more could you ask for?

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — NERVES

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

new arc

atsumu would look at y/n every timeout and new set

^ and so would another certain someone

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[icallhimjoey]

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

---

I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

The Taglisted

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@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

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@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[yandere-yearnings]

Weird thought rant ‼️

I always see in smuts that the MC gets a belly bulge and all that but okay, hear me out, how about MALE belly bulge? I have no idea if that’s possible due to male anatomy but I just thought that would be something

Join the cause and support Male belly bulge 😸

dw nonnie, i'm alr w/ you😌✨ (+ for reference it is possible!!)

anyway, this, for vio bc i feel like it'd be more prominent on him than my other ocs. also as a little smth for all the vio fuckers who continue to dominate the inbox🥰

NSFW under the cut!

“Shit.” Gasping breaths. Intakes hitched harder and harder. “Fuck, please. Please, I’m sorr-”

Vio's words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when your fingers quickly found their place within the wetness oozing from the space between spongey tongue and roof. Teary greens straining to meet your gaze, pleading mercy like what you were doing to him was torture, even though Vio was the one who slammed his ass back to meet your hips each time, without fail. 

“Aren’t you a fucking mess?” The amusement in your voice was palpable, and you knew it got him off, what with the way he keened, forehead pressing to the sheets and hands fisting the fabric as though it could save his life. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard an apology from these pretty lips,” your point was driven home when he gagged, and your spit-slicked digits slipped out just for you to smear it to a shine on them, “best not start now, hm? It might make me wanna take pity on you and then-”

He cried your name, and you watched the muscles in his back ripple as he convulsed. Sweat glistening, mesmerising in the way rain droplets were when they ran races against glass windows, dripping into the divots of sacral dimples you were aching to dig your thumbs into.

“And then who’s gonna fuck you like this, huh?” Your cleaner hand reached out, wrapped around his throat tight enough to choke him, and pulled him up. It drove you deeper into him — had Vio's eyes rolling to the back of his skull, had him clawing at you with almost the same intensity as he moaned. “Fuck you this good,” your hand trailed to his abdomen, where skin stretched thin, “fill you up, make you scream. You know I’m the only one who can do it for you. Only I know who you are, what you deserve. Right, Vio?”

“O-Only you,” Vio rasped, “only you, Y/N. Please.”

“You keep saying that,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his jugular absent-mindedly. His pulse was fluttering, light and so fast in a way you thought suited the image of delicacy he’d crafted for the world. The way his body molded to your shape said otherwise, unbreaking, despite your efforts to do just that. “What are you begging for? What have I not given you?”

“Everything.” Wisps of blue flurried in your vision, and they were all you could see for seconds after Vio tilted his head back on your shoulder. The ocean, in the colour of his eyes. Lapping waves that undulated and moved towards you. “This much isn’t enough.” Seasalt at his nape, on your tastebuds, becoming addictive. “Give it all to me.” Threatening to drown you. “Y/N.”

For a second you were gone, and then his voice, weighted only momentarily, had you snapping back into reality, into motion, into him. “Greedy,” you tittered, index up his Adam’s apple to tap on his chin and push it down, “can’t you see that I already am?”

“Fuck.” Vio's eyes widened, the slightest bit — you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking. Your palm smoothed over where his belly bulged, applied a little pressure and watched his pupils blow. It was funny to you that he hadn’t noticed before. “Fuck. Y/N, wait.” Between his legs, Vio's dick twitched, clearly not as spent as either of you had first assumed, not with how it was leaking now. “Wait!”

There are things you’d never know about him; what type of pleasure coursed through his veins on seeing the strain you put on him, if it was a physical fulfillment, if it was solely the feeling, or the thought, being claimed, stretched, ruined. You never wandered about it long — after all, it didn’t matter. In seconds, the ocean overflowed for you. He spilt for you.

Vio lost his mind for you.

[dovesdreaming]

Deadpools guide to keeping you alive

Summary: You have a habit of reminding everyone to take care of themselves, even though you often forget to do it for yourself. Wade, being Wade, notices, and in his own ridiculous yet sweet way, steps in to help you remember the little things.

Request

Masterlist

-

You sat on the couch, curled up with your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media while Wade, in full Deadpool attire, was standing on the coffee table, striking ridiculous superhero poses for no apparent reason. He’d started doing it about ten minutes ago, just because he could. One hand on his hip, the other flexed, he looked like a cross between a professional wrestler and an action figure from the 90s. "Looking good, Wade” you said absently, not even glancing up from your screen. "Have you had any water today?". “Hydration is for the weak!" he declared, though he immediately reached for the water bottle you’d left on the coffee table and took a big gulp, mask and all. You weren’t entirely sure how it worked, but you’d stopped asking those kinds of questions a long time ago. You smiled at his antics and shifted, feeling a little light-headed, but brushed it off. It happened sometimes. Not a big deal. Wade, however, noticed the slight wobble in your movement. He paused mid-pose, tilting his head toward you. "Hey, babe, you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out faster than I can regenerate a new spleen”.

You waved him off, though your stomach growled quietly. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten yet, I guess. No big deal”. Wade’s eyes widened beneath his mask, and he jumped off the coffee table with a surprisingly graceful landing. "Uh, what? You guess? You haven’t eaten yet?" He checked the clock on the wall. "It’s 4 PM. That's not 'yet,' that’s 'barely survived on air alone!”. You frowned, genuinely surprised by the time. You’d gotten up early that morning, thrown yourself into work, and totally lost track of everything else. Again. “Oh…” You blinked. “Right. Oops?”.

Wade crossed his arms and gave you a look you knew well, the ‘I’m about to be ridiculous but also right’ look. “Let me get this straight: you’ve reminded me, multiple times, to drink water today-thank you for that, by the way-but you forgot to eat?” You shrugged, trying to play it off, though the light-headedness was starting to catch up to you. “I get distracted, okay? I’ve got a lot going on in my head sometimes”. Wade didn’t argue with that. Instead, he sighed and sat down next to you, pulling you into his side. “Alright, here's the deal. You’re gonna sit right here, not move a muscle- except to blink, breathe, and keep that heart pumping I guess, and I’m gonna make you some food”.

You started to protest. “Wade, you don’t have to-“ But he was already up, bounding toward the kitchen with surprising energy for a guy who’d been play posing on a coffee table moments before. “I do have to! Because apparently, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached, and I can’t have that, babe. You’d look weird without it”. You chuckled as you watched him dig through the fridge, though there was a part of you that felt a little guilty. This wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten something important. Wade had found you passed out on the couch before because you’d stayed up working for nearly two days straight. And then there was the time you forgot to drink for an entire day while binge watching a new show. Wade had quickly gotten you a glass of whatever was closest whilst gently scolding you.

Still, despite your forgetfulness, you always made sure to look out for your friends. You’d tell Wade, and anyone else, to “drink more water!” or “take breaks!” but when it came to yourself, you… just forgot. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like your brain got too full, and the little things just slipped through the cracks. You were pulled out of your thoughts by the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Wade was muttering to himself, something about "smoking chimichangas" and “how do normal people make sandwiches without a sword?” But a few minutes later, he returned with a plate in hand, two sandwiches that looked like they’d survived a battle, but were clearly made with love. “Behold!” Wade declared, placing the plate on your lap with a flourish. “A culinary masterpiece. You won’t find this in any Michelin-star restaurant, because they can’t handle the truth”.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Wade. You didn’t have to, really”. “Of course I did” he said, sitting back down beside you, much more gently this time. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you remember to do basic human things, like eating and sleeping and not turning into a raisin from dehydration”. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling instantly better. “It’s good” you said through a mouthful of food. “Of course it is. I’m Deadpool. I don’t make bad sandwiches” he replied, leaning in to nudge you with his elbow. “But seriously, you gotta start taking care of yourself. I mean, I can regenerate my liver if it gives out, but you? You get one shot at this whole ‘being alive’ thing”.

You swallowed and nodded, feeling a little sheepish. “I know, I just… I get so caught up in things, I forget”. Wade looked at you, and even through the mask, you could feel the softness in his gaze. He reached over, pulling you into a side hug. “You know what, babe? That’s what I’m here for. To remind you to do all that boring, vital stuff. You remind me to drink water, I remind you to, you know, live. We balance each other out”.

You rested your head on his shoulder, sandwich still in hand. “Yeah, I guess we do”. “And from now on” Wade said, his voice full of determination, “I’m going to make sure you never forget again. I’ll be your personal reminder system. Forget to eat? I’ll hand-feed you if I have to. Forget to sleep? I’ll tuck you in with my very own beddy-bye song. And forget to shower? Well, I’ll.. okay, I’ll just throw you in the shower with a loofah grenade”.

You laughed, the sound muffled by another bite of your sandwich. “I don’t know if I should be scared or touched by that”. “Touched” Wade said, pulling you closer. “Definitely touched. In the heart, not the weird way. Unless you want it to be the weird way. I’m flexible”. You smiled, warmth filling your chest. “Thanks, Wade”. “Don’t mention it, babe” he said softly. Then he looked down at you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Now, finish that sandwich and then we’re going to bed. Not for the fun stuff, mind you, unless you’re into that, but because you need to sleep. Doctor Deadpool’s orders”. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the yawn that followed. “Fine, but only because Doctor Deadpool said so”. “That’s the spirit!” Wade cheered, and with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you up off the couch and toward the bedroom, all while mumbling something about setting hydration alarms and taping snack bars to the walls as reminders.

And as you curled up in bed that night, Wade snuggled up next to you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Because even when you forgot to take care of yourself, Wade was always there to remind you, whether it was about drinking water, getting enough sleep, or just eating a simple sandwich.

And really, that was all you needed.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[cryslut]

Yandere 6reeze | Headcannons

「 Venti ~ Xiao ~ Scaramouche ~ Aether ~ Kazuha ~ Heizou 」

- in which you get lucky enough to be trapped in an abandoned building that you decided to explore alone, with no way out, why? you'll find out.

- gender neutral

- modern au, stalking, obsession, unhealthy dynamics, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, potentially ooc

- not proofread so probably grammatical errors 

↳ Venti

This guy is a sucker for you. When he first laid eyes on you, he couldn't help but follow you around. Using the wind to find your whereabouts. He knew the scent of your perfume like the back of his hand. He knew every detail about you so he used this to his advantage.

Especially when you, decided to go explore an abandoned worn down walmart in your city. No one knew why it's been shut down, you wanted to go find out. Venti following your every move, lurking behind every corner, you being completely oblivious to this as you tended to be all the time.

It was the only way he could get close to you in a public environment after all. Cause it's either this or he watches you sleep, right?

,

You walked aimlessly around the place, seeing the place completely trashed. The cash registers void of any change or bills. The place was dark, you turned the flash light on, the one you actually brought.

You kept hearing noises, but no one was in sight, it began to scare you. Making your way towards where you came in, it was completely blocked off, almost like someone boarded it up. There was no way, maybe you went the wrong way.

You being there for hours until you finally found a way out. That was a lesson from Venti to never go alone. He didn't have to tell you that though, you figured you wouldn't go exploring without a friend ever again. That's all he wanted, was for you to be safe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Xiao

This man couldn't bear to ever admit his feelings for you. You two were close friends and almost did everything together. He decided to go exploring with you to an abandoned building.

At some point he completely wandered off and you didn't know where he went so you of course, became very afraid. Until eventually he came back. You didn't know where had gone. You wanted to leave the building after some time, as you two got close to the exit, it was boarded off, completely shutting you two off from getting out and from anyone getting in.

,

"What do we do now? It's completely boarded up?" panic began to settle in, breath hitching. A lump like feeling stuck your throat, "It's okay, I can call Hu Tao, she can come down and help us get out?"

"Are you sure you wanna get her in trouble?" He nods his head at you, he begins to tap on his phone, dialing the very familiar girls number.

Eventually waiting for Hu Tao's arrival for her to rescue you both. It gave Xiao the time to grow closer to you, little did you know that he intentionally did this just so you two would be together longer and alone.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Scaramouche

You had received word from a friend of a friend that there's an abandoned building with little activity around it so the chances of being caught would be quite low. What you didn't know is that Scaramouche, the man himself, paid off someone to get that knowledge to you just so you would go alone.

You walked through the giant broken down building that was boarded up, it was an old mall that had shut down due to unfortunate circumstances. Scaramouche was following you the whole night, without you even realizing.

,

Until he finally made himself known, playing it off like he wasn't stalking you the whole time, "Weird seeing you here," he says nonchalantly. Your relationship with this man was just somewhat friends, you met him through a close friend, Tartaglia.

You turn around to follow the voice, your gaze meeting a very familiar indigo haired man. You were shocked but somewhat relieved that he was here. The abandoned mall was quite eerie after all, "Oh, hi Scara," you say excitedly.

Scaramouche took note of your tone, inside he was smirking and grinning but he kept a composed expression and remained the same way, "You're all alone in a place like this? I didn't even know you explored abandoned buildings," his voice coming off bratty and stern.

"Yeah, I love exploring. It's one of the many things I do in my free time, not a lot of people know about it I guess now that I think about it," you smile gently at him.

For the remainder of the night. He got closer with you, that's what he wanted. To gain your trust and bond with you more, so that one day, just maybe he could have a chance. But if he didn't, then bad things may just happen to you, or someone else entirely.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Aether

You never knew that people were disappearing just because of some simple jealousy. Those same people you had spoken to days ago. Aether wanted to help you get your mind off the recent events so he decided to force you to tag along with him to go explore an abandoned building, it wasn't really obvious what it was as it was completely trashed.

When you decided to go on ahead and look at something out of pure excitement, Aether took the opportunity to completely shut you two in the building together. There was only one exit and he just wanted to be alone with you, no matter where you two were.

Keeping you locked up in there for hours with him, talking normally as if nothing were going on until you realize. You two were further from a lot of people so you the smart little cookie that you are, put two and two together, your intuition saying it's in fact, Aether himself doing this.

Once he had realized that his plans had been interrupted, he knocked you out cold. Waking up the next morning in the comfort of your bed, you only thought it was a mere nightmare, nothing more. Aether's cover no longer had been blown.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Kazuha

He's such a gentleman at heart, so sweet and the most romantic poet you'll ever meet. You were his biggest weakness, he had written so many poems about you, they weren't ordinary though. One day he did write something for you though, sending it your way.

It was an elaborate ruse to get you to go off exploring a place that hadn't been touched in years. He wanted one night with you, and he will have it whether you like it or not. So he sent a sort of letter, a riddle as well. Luring you into an abandoned broken down museum.

Following your every move the whole night. He craved being closer to you. So eventually he sealed off any exit pretty well, just so he could "coincidentally" bump into you and well spend the night with you until he "helped" you two escape the treacherous place.

Since you were so startled by the event itself, due to Kazuha convincing you that someone might've locked you two in there, you were on edge and so paranoid. So he put the idea into your head you should stay a couple days with him just in case anyone was going to try and harm you, and his plan worked so well.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

↳ Heizou

Heizou is a detective so he can easily get away with things, brushing everything off. He's quite the master in psychology so messing with you is no brainer for him. After all, when you're vulnerable in front of him, he gets glimpses of who you are. That being said, through one of these moments and fleeting glimpses, he knew you loved dark and mysterious things, this goes for exploring abandoned buildings.

He discreetly followed you throughout the night of an abandoned warehouse, one he actually recently had the pleasure of solving a mystery of a series of murders in. It was only natural he would follow you here, right? He had to make sure his beloved was safe after all. He didn't let you know once that he was present.

Sneaking and covering tracks was not a difficult task for this man. And you made it easy to trap you inside this building. Heizou is not one for psychological torture but sometimes when he's provoked, he will do something to mess with you, without you ever realizing it. Using the abandoned warehouse, by sealing off the exits to his advantage, it scared you into submission until you finally were able to run out of there, telling yourself you won't visit an abandoned place again, at least not alone.

This was just his simple, fun way of trying to get you to come to him for help. You two were close after all. It's only natural.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ STEREO HEARTS ♡·˚

— [♡] ; gojo's infinity marks the bond you share with him, an unseen force etched forever into your skin. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: found family, tattoo, protective gojo satoru, graduation, gojo satoru being a dad, soft, emotional support, fluff.

wc. 4.1K

The wind rustled gently through the trees, carrying with it the soft scent of early summer. You stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching the shadows stretch longer across the stone pathways of Jujutsu High. The place was quiet now, a rare moment of peace that left you with too much time to think. Graduation was only a few days away, and that thought sat in your chest like a weight—heavy, inevitable, yet hard to fully grasp. The end of your time here, the end of a chapter that had shaped you in ways you never expected.

You'd fought curses, survived battles, and learned what it meant to carry the weight of responsibility, but that wasn’t what you would remember most. It was the people—your friends—who had left the deepest marks. You smiled to yourself as you thought about Nobara’s sharp tongue, Yuji’s infectious laughter, and Megumi’s quiet yet steady presence. They had been with you through everything, through moments of joy and grief, through victories and losses.

And then, of course, there was Gojo Satoru.

You could never put your feelings about him into words. He wasn’t just your teacher. He was the unshakable pillar who stood tall in the chaos, always there to pull you back from the edge when you felt lost. His easy-going smile and nonchalant attitude might fool others, but you knew better. Beneath the surface, Gojo cared. He cared deeply. He saw things in his students that no one else did. That sense of safety, of knowing Gojo always had your back, had carried you through the darkest times.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as the thought of leaving all this behind settled in. It wasn’t just the missions, the training, or the daily life at Jujutsu High. It was this—the bonds you’d made, the feeling that no matter what, you had a place here, with these people.

“Hey.”

Nobara’s voice cut through your thoughts, her presence beside you a comfort. She stood with her arms crossed, staring out at the horizon where the sun was slowly dipping behind the treetops, bathing the sky in shades of orange and purple. “Can you believe we’re leaving this place soon?” she asked, her tone unusually soft.

You shook your head. “It feels... surreal.”

Nobara nodded, her brow furrowing. "Yeah. It’s weird to think about. We should do something, though."

“Something?” you echoed, unsure of what she meant.

“To mark the end of all this.” Nobara waved her hand vaguely, gesturing at the school grounds, at the memories. “And Gojo-sensei... He’s been there for us through everything. I feel like we should honor that somehow.”

“Honor Gojo?” Yuji’s voice came from behind, startling you both. He appeared with his usual grin, though even he couldn’t hide the slight sadness in his eyes. “What, you wanna throw him a party or something?”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Please. You think Gojo would care about a party? I’m talking about something that actually means something. Something permanent.”

You frowned, thinking over her words. What could you possibly do to honor Gojo, someone who was impossible to define, impossible to thank with something as simple as a gift? Your mind raced, trying to think of something that would capture the essence of what he meant to all of you. Then, out of nowhere, an idea hit you.

“A tattoo,” you said, the words spilling out before you could think them through.

Yuji blinked at you, clearly taken aback. “A tattoo?”

Nobara tilted her head, considering it. “Hmm. I’m listening.”

“Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts, “it’s something that will always be with us. A reminder of everything we’ve been through, and of Gojo, too. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just... a symbol.”

“A symbol,” Yuji repeated, his face lighting up with excitement. “Yeah, like something that ties all of us together!”

Nobara tapped her chin, a slow grin spreading across her face. “That’s actually not a bad idea. I’m in.”

“What do you think, Megumi?” you asked, turning to where Megumi stood a few feet away, pretending not to listen. His eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he approached the group.

“A tattoo, huh?” Megumi’s voice was even, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. “If it means something to all of us, I’m not against it.”

Nobara clapped her hands together, excitement bubbling over now that Megumi had agreed. “Alright, then. We need to figure out what this tattoo is gonna look like.”

The four of you found a quiet spot on the steps, the conversation flowing easily as ideas bounced around. At first, the suggestions were playful—Yuji joked about getting Gojo’s infinity symbol across his back, Nobara proposed a cursed tool icon, and Megumi, in his typical deadpan style, suggested a frog in reference to his shikigami.

Eventually, the group settled into something more serious. You all knew the tattoo should be small and meaningful, something simple but powerful, like the bonds you shared. It would be a mark of the trust, the hardships, and the guidance Gojo had provided.

“Maybe something with Gojo’s limitless,” Nobara suggested, her voice thoughtful now. “It’s iconic, and... it represents him, in a way.”

“And us,” Yuji added. “He’s the reason we’re here, right?”

As the conversation drifted on into the night, you felt a sense of closure starting to take shape. This tattoo would be your way of carrying these memories, these friendships, and Gojo’s influence with you, wherever you went.

It wouldn’t be easy to leave, but knowing you had this bond with your friends—and a permanent reminder of everything Gojo had done for you—made it a little more bearable as the day of graduation finally arrived.

The ceremonies had ended, the speeches were over, and the official farewells had been said. Yet, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting the school grounds in a golden glow, a different kind of anticipation settled over you. This wasn’t just the end of your time at Jujutsu High. It was also the day you and your friends would reveal your shared tribute to Gojo.

You stood outside the courtyard with Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi, each of you a little nervous but also excited. The tattoo was small but meaningful, etched onto the inside of your wrists. You pressed your hand over it, feeling the slight twinge of soreness from the fresh ink. It hadn’t been painful, but the weight of what it represented made it feel significant—like something you’d carry with you always.

The tattoo was a clean, minimalist design: a single blue infinity, a simple yet iconic symbol of the man who had guided you through the toughest moments of your lives. It was a subtle mark, but it carried with it a depth that words couldn’t express. For the rest of your lives, Gojo would be with you, even if you didn’t always see him.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” Yuji said, grinning as he rubbed the spot on his skin where his own tattoo lay.

Nobara smirked. “We can’t back out now. Besides, Gojo is going to love it. I mean, how often do people get a tattoo in honor of their teacher?”

“Never,” Megumi muttered, but even he couldn’t hide the tiny curve of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

You felt the nervous energy bouncing between all of you, but it was more than that—it was pride. You were proud of the bond you shared with your friends, and proud of the silent impact Gojo had made on each of your lives. Today wasn’t just about leaving Jujutsu High. It was about showing Gojo what he meant to you all in a way that words never could.

“Ready?” you asked, glancing between your friends.

“Let’s do it,” Nobara said with a nod, determination sparking in her eyes.

The four of you made your way toward the main building, where Gojo was waiting. He stood near the entrance, his white hair catching the fading sunlight, his blindfold securely in place. He turned as you approached, his usual carefree grin already plastered across his face.

“There you are, my adorable little graduates!” Gojo’s voice rang out as he opened his arms in mock celebration. “How does it feel to finally be free? Ready to take on the world?”

Yuji laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, something like that…”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Aw, don’t be shy. You know I’ve trained you to be the best there is! So, what brings my beloved students back to me? Can’t bear the thought of leaving me behind?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Nobara, your heartbeat quickening. The moment had arrived.

“Well, Sensei,” Nobara started, her tone surprisingly serious for once, “we have something to show you.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, curious now. “Oh? What could it be? A graduation gift for me?”

“Something like that,” you replied, taking a small step forward. You exchanged a quick glance with the others, and together, you lifted your wrists, revealing the fresh ink. The small blue symbol of his infinity stood out sharply against your skin, simple yet unmistakable.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Gojo was speechless.

He blinked, the usual grin fading from his face as his gaze settled on the tattoos. The silence stretched on for a few beats longer than you expected, and for a moment, you worried that maybe he wouldn’t understand. Maybe this was too much, too permanent.

But then, Gojo’s lips curved into something softer, something far more genuine than his usual playful smirk. He reached up, pulling the lower corner of his blindfold up just a fraction so that you could see his bright blue eye, piercing and unguarded. The sight of his uncovered gaze made your heart skip a beat—Gojo rarely showed his eyes like this, only in moments that truly mattered.

“Infinity,” he said softly, his voice a little lower, a little more thoughtful. “You got this for me?”

Nobara nodded, her expression firm. “It’s more than that. It’s a reminder of everything you’ve done for us. We wouldn’t be where we are without you, Sensei.”

Yuji grinned. “And we wanted something permanent to carry with us, no matter where we go.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. Then, slowly, he reached out, resting a hand lightly on Yuji’s wrist, where the tattoo lay. “You’re all idiots, you know that?” he said, but his tone was warm, affectionate in a way that caught you off guard. “But I’m proud of you.”

Nobara snorted. “Don’t get cocky. This isn’t just about you.”

Gojo chuckled, but the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. He stepped forward, resting a hand lightly on Yuji’s shoulder, then Nobara’s, then Megumi’s. Finally, he stopped in front of you, and for a brief moment, the world felt smaller, quieter. Gojo’s eyes softened as they met yours, and he gave you a subtle nod.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of you.”

Your heart swelled with emotion. This was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the most unpredictable person you knew, and for once, he was showing you a side of him that was real—unguarded, sincere.

He stepped back, flashing you all a bright grin. “Alright, I guess I’ll allow it. But don’t think this means you can slack off now that you’re graduates. You’ve got a lot to live up to, especially since you’ll be carrying this reminder of me forever.”

Yuji laughed, the tension breaking as the group relaxed. “Trust me, we know.”

Gojo gave you one last glance, a spark of pride and affection in his gaze before he turned on his heel, heading toward the exit. “Now, go celebrate, you bunch of softies. I expect great things from you.”

As he disappeared from view, the four of you stood there, the weight of what had just happened settling over you. It wasn’t just about the tattoo—it was about what it symbolized. You’d given Gojo a part of yourselves, and in return, he had given you something equally important: his pride, his affection, and a reminder that no matter where you went, he’d always be with you.

Graduation had come and gone, and though life was changing, one thing remained constant—Gojo’s unpredictable presence. He popped in and out of your lives with the same carefree attitude he’d always had, reminding you that no matter how far you ventured into the world of jujutsu, he would never be too far away.

A few days after the ceremony, Gojo showed up unannounced, as usual, just as you and your friends were lounging in the common room, enjoying a brief respite before your next mission. He walked in with that familiar grin on his face, hands casually stuffed into his pockets.

“Well, well,” Gojo said, his voice ringing with mock seriousness, “look at you all, still lounging around. Shouldn’t you guys be out saving the world by now?”

Yuji laughed, tossing a pillow in Gojo’s direction, which Gojo dodged easily. “We’re taking a break, Sensei. Let us relax for a bit!”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, though the teasing smile never left his face. “Fine, fine. But before you all go off to become heroes, I’ve got something for you.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You? Giving us a gift? What’s the catch?”

Gojo feigned a hurt expression, pressing a hand to his chest. “Catch? Can’t a teacher show his appreciation for his students?”

With a flourish, Gojo reached into his pocket and pulled out four thin silver bracelets. Each bracelet was delicate, adorned with a small infinity charm that glinted in the light. The bracelets were simple, elegant, and strangely fitting for something Gojo would give—unassuming on the surface but likely much more than they appeared.

“Here,” he said, tossing one to each of you. “A little thank-you gift for honoring me with your tattoos. I figured you’d want something to match.”

You caught the bracelet easily, the cool metal smooth in your palm. The charm dangled softly, catching the light as you examined it. There was something about it—a faint, almost imperceptible hum of energy—like a quiet pulse beneath the surface.

Megumi, ever cautious, eyed his bracelet warily. “What’s the trick? There’s always a trick with you.”

Gojo grinned, his usual playful spark back in full force. “No trick. Just a little something to remind you that even when I’m not around, I’m always watching.”

Yuji smiled brightly, already fastening the bracelet around his wrist. “Thanks, Sensei! This is pretty cool.”

Nobara, despite her suspicion, clipped the bracelet onto her wrist as well, the infinity charm resting lightly against her skin. “Alright, what’s the real reason behind this? You’re not exactly the sentimental type.”

Gojo’s grin widened as he wagged a finger at her. “Ah, ah. You’ll figure it out when the time comes. But don’t lose them. I’d be very disappointed if you did.”

And with that cryptic remark, Gojo turned and strolled out of the room, leaving you all to stare down at your new bracelets, unsure of what exactly they meant.

It wasn’t until a week later, during a mission, that the bracelets revealed their true purpose.

Your first mission as fully certified sorcerers had been simple at first—investigating some unusual cursed energy in a quiet town. The work had been straightforward, dealing with minor curses and disturbances. But as the day progressed, something darker, far more dangerous, began to stir beneath the surface.

Before you knew it, you were facing off against a special-grade curse. Its hulking form towered over you, grotesque and twisted, with too many eyes and far too many limbs. It moved faster than you expected, and its attacks were relentless. Despite your teamwork, you found yourselves quickly overwhelmed.

Nobara barely dodged a vicious swipe, her breath coming in heavy gasps as she regrouped. “This thing’s too strong! We’re barely making a dent!”

Yuji, fists clenched, charged forward again, but even his strength wasn’t enough to break through the curse’s defenses. Megumi’s shikigami fought bravely, but they, too, struggled to keep up with the curse’s speed and power.

Then, as the curse lunged at you, its claws poised to strike, you felt it—a sudden surge of energy from the bracelet on your wrist. The infinity charm glowed faintly, and before you could even react, a shimmering barrier of cursed energy flared to life around you. The curse’s attack collided with the barrier, but it couldn’t break through. You blinked in shock, feeling the unmistakable presence of Gojo’s Infinity wrapping around you like an invisible shield.

Your friends experienced the same thing. The moment the curse came close to them, their bracelets reacted, casting the same protective barrier around them. The cursed energy radiating from the bracelets was unmistakable—Gojo’s Infinity, distilled into a small but powerful charm.

Yuji stared down at his bracelet, eyes wide. “No way... Gojo put Infinity in these?”

Nobara’s disbelief quickly turned into a mix of awe and frustration. “Of course he did. Couldn’t just give us normal bracelets, could he?”

With the Infinity protecting you, the battle shifted. No longer vulnerable to the curse’s attacks, you and your friends pressed forward, coordinating your strikes with renewed confidence. The curse grew more desperate, its attacks wild and erratic, but each one was blocked by the Infinity shields cast from your bracelets.

Finally, in a coordinated effort, you delivered the final blow, and the curse dissolved into nothingness. Silence fell over the battlefield, the tension slowly draining as the reality of what had just happened settled in.

Breathless but triumphant, you looked down at the bracelet on your wrist. The faint glow had faded, but the energy of Gojo’s Infinity lingered, a quiet reminder of the protection it had given.

Yuji grinned, clipping the bracelet back onto his wrist. “Guess Gojo really wasn’t kidding when he said he’s always watching.”

Nobara sighed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Leave it to him to give us something like this.”

Megumi, always more subdued, simply nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he slipped the bracelet back onto his wrist. “It’s a good gift.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling the cool metal of the bracelet against your skin. Gojo had always been there, watching, guiding, protecting. And now, even as you stepped into the world on your own, he had found a way to stay by your side.

The bracelet wasn’t just a gift—it was a promise. No matter where you went or what challenges you faced, Gojo’s presence would always be with you, like the infinity symbol etched into your skin and hanging from your wrist—a reminder that his influence was boundless, just like his power.

It hadn’t been long since the protective barrier dissipated, but you could still feel its presence—a reminder of how close the fight had been and how easily things could’ve gone wrong without Gojo’s help.

You glanced at your bracelet, the small infinity charm resting innocuously against your skin, but now it held a new significance. Gojo had woven his cursed energy into these simple tokens, and in the heat of battle, they had become more than just symbolic. They had been your lifeline. What you didn’t expect, though, was what happened next.

Just as the adrenaline began to wear off, a familiar voice cut through the silence. “Well, well. Looks like my favorite students had some fun without me.”

You turned sharply, and there he was—Gojo Satoru, standing casually at the edge of the clearing, his ever-present grin in place. He strolled toward you, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. His white hair shimmered in the dying light, and even with his blindfold still on, you could feel the weight of his attention on all of you.

Yuji blinked in surprise. “Sensei? What are you doing here?”

Gojo’s grin widened, but there was a glint of something sharper in his tone. “What, you think I wouldn’t know when my Infinity gets activated? That’s kind of the point of these bracelets, you know.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that revelation. So, not only had Gojo protected you from afar, but he had also been alerted the moment the bracelets had come to life. It was like he had been watching over you the entire time, even when you thought you were on your own.

Nobara crossed her arms, looking mildly annoyed, though there was a trace of relief in her expression. “You could’ve told us they did that. I was expecting a normal bracelet, not a Gojo-activated beacon.”

Gojo laughed, his carefree demeanor returning as he stopped in front of you all. “Where’s the fun in telling you everything? Besides, I figured you’d figure it out eventually. That’s why I told you not to lose them. They’re not just for protection—they let me know when you need me.”

Megumi, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward. “So, you knew the whole time that we were in danger.”

Gojo’s smile softened, though he didn’t lose his playful edge. “Of course I did. I was ready to jump in if things got too hairy, but I knew you could handle it. The bracelets are just a little extra insurance. Think of them like a safety net.”

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude, though you also felt a bit of frustration. Gojo had known, had watched, but hadn’t intervened—he had trusted you. And in the end, you had proven that trust wasn’t misplaced. Still, there was a weight to that knowledge. You weren’t alone, not really, but Gojo had wanted you to stand on your own, to fight your own battles without relying on him too much.

“We could’ve used a little more help,” Yuji muttered, half-joking.

Gojo reached out and ruffled Yuji’s hair, ignoring his protests. “You didn’t need it. Look at you—all of you. You handled that curse without me swooping in to save the day. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Nobara rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “You’re insufferable, Sensei.”

Gojo flashed her a wink. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

The mood lightened after that, the tension from the battle slowly fading as Gojo’s presence had a way of dissolving the weight of everything that had just happened. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of how close you had come to serious danger. The curse had been stronger than expected, and without the bracelets, things might have turned out very differently.

Gojo seemed to sense your lingering thoughts. He turned to you, tilting his head slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, then glanced down at the bracelet. “The Infinity… we wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Gojo’s expression softened further, and for a moment, the usual cocky grin faded into something more genuine. “That’s what it’s there for,” he said quietly. “To keep you safe. But don’t sell yourselves short. I put those bracelets on you because I know you’re strong enough to handle yourselves. The Infinity is just... a backup. You did most of the work.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, the weight of his confidence in you sinking in. It wasn’t just the Infinity that had protected you—it was Gojo’s belief in your strength, in your ability to face danger head-on.

He straightened up, slipping his hands back into his pockets. “Besides, the whole point of giving you these bracelets was to make sure you don’t rely on me forever. You’re sorcerers now—real ones. You’ve got this.”

Megumi, ever serious, nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojo’s grin returned full force as he turned toward the horizon. “Good. Now, how about you all buy me dinner? It’s the least you can do for dragging me out here.”

Nobara groaned. “As if we haven’t done enough for you already.”

Yuji laughed, throwing an arm around Nobara’s shoulders as they started walking. “Come on, Nobara, he saved our lives, technically.”

You followed behind, the bracelet’s weight light against your wrist, but the knowledge of what it represented—Gojo’s watchful eye, his unspoken care—felt heavier in the best way. Even as you stepped into the world as full-fledged sorcerers, you knew that Gojo would always be there, in one form or another. The infinity symbol was more than just a mark on your skin or a charm on your bracelet—it was a promise that no matter where you went, Gojo would always be a part of you.

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

Could you make a fic where Sam and Fem!Reader finally get a motel room alone without Dean and enjoy the night?

𝙁𝙄𝙉𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙔 𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙀

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙋𝙐𝙍𝙀 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔 𝘼𝙎𝙁

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐.

• 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆, 𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙔/𝙉, 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑, 𝘼 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝘽𝙄𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙁𝙇𝙐𝙁𝙁, 𝙈𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙇𝙔 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏.

𝙎. 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙭 𝙔/𝙉

• 🎀 • • • • 🤍 • • • ✨ • • ✨ • • • 🤍 • • • • 🎀 •

Sam and Y/N had to get a room together because of the fact that Dean, wanted to bring a woman over to the room. So that left her and Sam alone in the room. It’s not that they minded. They had slept in the same bed. But lately. Sam and Y/N had, had some kind of attraction towards each other. She just couldn’t help the fact that he was handsome. She had eyes, she could clearly see how attractive the Winchester Boys are. But something about Sam’s personality draw her in. Y/N had known the boys since they were all kids.

Sam and Y/N were always best friends including Dean. But it was mostly both of them, since they were around the same age range. Dean is six years older than them. He was always with other girls as the best friends were left alone to be there for each other. Even though they were the bestest of friends. They shared their first kiss together to get it out of the way. That wasn’t the only thing they both had shared. They also lost their virginity’s to each other.

They were each other’s first in everything, but there was no kind of feelings that came from all of that. They had both thought it was better to be each other’s first. Then to be other people’s first, strangers at that. Both of them still remember that day like it was yesterday. After that day. They had done it a few more times. That was until Y/N had gotten her first boyfriend at the age of 16. They had to stop what they were doing. But that relationship lasted a week.

She placed her bag in the only bed in the room and she sighed. “They didn’t have another room with another bed?” She asked the tall hunter as he rolled his eyes. “What? You kick hard in your sleep.” She told him as he puts his duffle on the bed same as her. “Well, then I’ll sleep on the couch.” He shrugged his shoulders and she shook her head. “No way I’m going to let you do that.” She told him as she grabs her bag and walked into the bathroom to take a good shower after the hunt they had. She got undressed and stepped into the hot shower letting it hit her body as she sighs letting the stress from the hunt melt away from her body. After she was done. She dried herself and changed into her night clothes.

Which consisted of a very short pink satin nightgown with nothing underneath. She hated sleeping with anything that consisted of undergarments. Hated the feeling of not feeling comfortable when she slept. “You going to shower?” She asked him as he snaps out of his thoughts. Unbeknownst to her. His dirty thoughts about what’s underneath the nightgown.

Sam hasn’t gotten laid in a while and being alone with the woman he’s been in love with since he was a child. Where doing things to him. He just wanted to grab her and bend her over the table and fuck her until all the people in the motel knew his Sam and the way she screamed it. Sam shifted uncomfortably as he imagined that. So, he grabbed his bag and quickly walked into the bathroom as he hid the problem he had going on in his pants. Closing the door he groans

Y/N and Sam laid on the bed with the lights off, but they weren’t able to fall asleep.

After a while Sam and Y/N turn to face each other and they sighed. “This is this suddenly weird for us?” She asked Sam as he lightly chuckled. Sam reached over and pulled her hair behind her ear as she closed her eyes. Y/N felt the bed rustling and she opened her eyes watching as Sam got closer to her, she did nothing to move. Sam closed the gap between them and places his soft lips on hers as he softly had his hand on her cheek. Y/N reached behind Sam and she ran her hands through his hair giving it a light pull as he moaned softly into the kiss as it started to get heated. Sam got in between her legs not breaking the kiss as his hands ran up her thigh up her nightgown. Sam pulled away from the kiss and he kissed down her neck slowly pulling the straps on her gown down as he softly, gently kissed her shoulders.

Y/N buckled her hips up rolling her own with him as he hissed. She moaned as she felt how hard he was, and how big he felt under his boxer shorts. She had forgotten that he had always been on the bigger side. Her nails drags along his body as she gets to the waist band of his boxer shorts and reached inside of him lightly touching his long, thick cock. “Fuck.” Sam softly whispered as he felt the pad of her fingers on the tip of his dick. Sam pulled her nightgown up to her body and looked at her body sitting back so he could get a view of that glistening pink pussy. He bites his lip as the pad on his fingers run through her folds making her gasp and arch her back off the bed.

“So wet for me.” Sam said as he lightly touched her clit. “So good for me.” He said as his finger went to her entrance teasing it making Y/N whimper as the feeling of his fingers touching her hole. Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but instead her head fell back into the pillow as Sam’s middle finger enters her. “Aah!” Her back arched as Sam went in and out of her. “Fuck, Sam. So good.” She moaned as Sam curled and finger fucked her in a steady. “Faster!” She said and gasped louder as Sam decided to add another finger into her pussy. “So tight.” He groaned.

Sam has his middle finger and his ring finger inside of her as he went so fast. His jaw clenched as she moaned louder. “God! I’m cumming, fuck!” She shook violently. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as a wave of her orgasm hits her as Sam curled his fingers. Wave after wave of pure pleasure hitting her all at once. Sam lightly moaned as he felt how her walls fluttered on his fingers. He could imagine how it felt with her around his cock as he fucked her hard.

Y/N slumped against the mattress breathing heavy as Sam slowed down taking out his fingers. She look up at him as he licked them clean making her close her legs at how sexy he looked licking her orgasm off his fingers. Y/N pulled the rest of her nightgown off tossing it to the side as Sam went and took off his boxer shorts throwing them aside getting in between her legs. He looked over at her body as he had, had dreams about her. His hands ran down her body, as it grazed her hardened nipples making her moan lightly as her back arched as chills erupted all over her body.

His hand reached her clit. The pad on his thumb rubbing it gently as she lets out a moan. He grabbed his dick pumping himself as he looked at her pretty pink pussy. He loved to her how her legs were spread open for him. He took his cock, his tip, gliding it from her entrance to her clit making her into a whimpering mess. “Sam, please.” She whined. “Beg.” He told her as she whined more. “Sam, I need you please.” She said to him gasping as his dick kept on gliding up and down on her, her legs slightly shaking as he as she clenched over nothing, breathing heavy moaning

Sam looked at her falling apart before his eyes. He looked at her and slides inside making them both gasp in pleasure. Her walls stretching as he fills her up. “Fuck! Aah!” She moaned loudly as he slowly rolled his hips into hers as he, himself groaned. “You’re so fucking tight.” Sam groaned as he pants.

“Faster, Sam!” She said. He held her hips and started to pick up his pace making her gasp and moan. Her hand shoots out to his hard abs as she gasped louder as he slammed into her. Her head rolled back as her mouth dropped open. His eyes solely on her as she was falling apart. Sam grunted as he looked down to where they both connected. His thumb going to her clit rubbing fast circles on it making her scream out his name over and over again as her hips buckled up.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as Sam’s moaning was bringing her to the edge of her climax. “God, Sam! Don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!” She shook as he pressed her down onto the bed as the coil in her stomach exploded. “Ooh god!!” She shook her whole body in a euphoric state, she was seeing stars. Sam was moaning as his hips slammed into her hips his dick twitching hissing as she clenched around him. “Sam, cum.” She said as she looked at him. “Cum for me.” She told him. Sam grunts loudly as he released his seed inside of her halting his movements as he fell forward panting her walls white

Sam groaned his eyes screwed as he grunted in her ear. “Fuck, baby.” He whispered kissing her neck softly as Y/N hugged his sweaty body against hers. Letting out a breath Sam pulled out and rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breathing, his heart pounding in his chest from his orgasm. Y/N had her eyes closed with a smile on her face her body relaxed

Sam opened his eyes and looked at her. “I love you.” He said making her snap her eyes open.

She slowly sat up and looked over at him. Her eyes were wide open as she looked at him. “I have for a very long time.” He said as he also sat up. “Since we were kids.” He said as her eyes softened looking at him. Her fingers reached over and softly puts his messy sex hair behind his ear as she lovingly looks at him. “It’s so crazy, because, I think I love you, too.” She whispered to him making smile widely at her.

She leaned forward and placed her lips on his. Sam grabbed her hips putting her on top of him. “So, you’re mine?” He asked her softly with a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know, am I?” She said back with an even bigger smirk. “I think you are.” He said to her.

“Well, then.” She said lifting his chin up with her finger so he could look at her. “Show me.” She said.

Sam grabbed her from her waist flipping her on her back making her laugh out loud and they immersed themselves into another hot love making moment.

• 🤍 • • • • 🎀 • • • ✨ • • ✨ • • • 🎀 • • • • 🤍 •

𝙎. 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

If you have any requests lmk. I’ll see what I can do. Since I don’t really do stuff like this. I can try. The only things I don’t do. Are daddy kinks or wincest, or age gap or peeing kink. But other than that feel free. I☺️ ps. I’m a destiel shipper but I don’t write destiel smut sorry.

[miguel-owhora]

little drabble at 4 am. woke up to finish this.

cw — blow jobs , consensual drug usage , not beta read

fems n minors dnf, you will be blocked.

Whatever weed you had given Micah, it was working. He felt light and fuzzy, like sinking into a field of cotton, or swimming in a pool of silk — it didn't make sense, it shouldn't make sense, but it felt nice all the same. There's an emptiness to his head that's nice, but it does make him feel a little... weird. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to keep him alert — if a little sluggishly.

Nevermind, though. You had promised him no one came out to this cliff side, neither animals nor man. And for once, Micah had trusted you — and wasn't that so crazy? Micah Bell, trusting you of all people? Perhaps it shouldn't have been so surprising, he had unknowingly found himself gravitating towards you since your first nightly encounter. It still unsettled Micah whenever he thought about it, when you stumbled upon him, without any undergarments to cover himself, how you had — 'foolishly, stupidly, charmingly,' he thought — offered to help him out with his problem.

And then what became of that. Sneaking away from the rest of the gang to more private areas, like school couples running from their peers. How many nights were spent together, drinking alcohol or blackening their lungs or drugging themselves, exploring each other's bodies in a way that would get you both hanged. In a way that was forbidden by society, outlawed.

But since when did Micah care about expectations and about following the law? He was an outlaw for crying out loud! Micah Bell didn't care about that — it was survival of the fittest, a dog eat dog world — a world where he could partake in any pleasure he wanted and not care about the consequences.

Which is how it circles back to you and Micah being fuck buddies. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, and he's sure it's not because of you licking the tip of his cock, letting the white bead of pre drop on your tongue, before it vanishes into your pink mouth.

Silver plumes of smoke slip from Micah's lips as he exhales, a low groan tumbling from his lips as he feels you throat his cock. Your throat is warm and slick, a perfect cavern. His cock twitches when he feels your tongue lick along a protruding vein, circle around his cockhead — feels you drool down his length.

Micah watches with dilated pupils, leaning back against the log, inhaling the unique scent of the burning weed. Your laying on your sides, legs curled up in a way that has your ass pressing against your pants, in a way that definitely caught his attention. Your head slowly bobs, one arm laying against his lap, whilst the other fondles with what you cannot fit into your mouth.

"You've quite the mouth on you, cowpoke," He drawls, speech more slurred from the combination of your perverse affection and from the weed. A low moan slips from his chapped lips when you hold your head down for a moment, nursing his cock before slowly lifting back up.

Your hand cupped around his dick moves, slowly and methodically, jerking him off and keeping him hard, even when the leftover spit on his dick cools without your mouth to keep it warm.

"I've had the experience," You dryly say, glancing back at him. Your eyes are dark in the night, the moonlight shyly peering down at you. But even then, Micah doesn't need to actually see your eyes to know how they stare at him; all doe eyes and pretty, making him weak, making him feel like he's going to do something even more irrational.

Micah swallows.

"Yeah, I bet you have," He snarks, resorting back to his usual defense whenever he feels out of place. "Bet you've done the same to other men, huh? To the other fellers in the gang - probably let them use that pretty mouth the same way you let me use it."

You pinch his inner thighs, and snort when he jerks.

"Micahhhhh," You drawl out, tilting your head back onto his belly. He stares down at you, shadows slithering over his face, cracks of moonlight painting his blonde hair silver. He stares at you with his usual grimace, but it's not so harsh.

"What?" He says, lips twitching as if he's fighting not to sneer down at you. You hum, plucking the joint from his fingers and place it between your lips, taking a drag. The smoke slips down to your lungs, and it burns in a nice way.

You tilt your head, having the basic decency to not blow it in his face. Not like Micah, who you've grown so accustomed to blowing the smoke in your face that you've built an immunity to a reaction. Still, Micah plucks the joint straight out of your fingers and you roll your eyes.

"Shut up." You say, to his previous question. You roll your head forward again, hand still slowly jerking him off, and lean down to lick a flat stripe over his head. You snort when he gives an involuntary jerk of his hips, and you follow his cock and slip the head inside your mouth.

You're all too pleased by the low groan that tumbles from his mouth, and you can just imagine the scruffy man placing a hand over his mouth to muffle himself. Of course the most obnoxious and arrogant and vile man you've ever had the dishonor of meeting is flustered about making noises. You roll your eyes at the thought and slowly bob your head, the routine familiar, as it the taste of Micah's cock in your mouth.

Micah's not the biggest you've taken, somewhere around average, but it feels absolutely perfect in your mouth.

It sits heavy on your tongue, the taste of it salty and musky, in a way that you try to ignore how he probably hasn't bathed in God knows how long. Not because it necessarily grosses you out, but how it turns you on. You sink his cock deeper into your throat, tongue tracing a protruding vein that snakes on his length, a testament to how much you enjoy the taste and feel of him.

Of course, you'd never admit that. Micah was arrogant enough, he didn't need to know just how much his filthy nature made you hard.

The outlaw doesn't seem to notice, head tilting back as he groaned low in his throat, the blunt in his hands wafting with smoke. His cock throbbed in your throat, and you slurped around his length, before slowly bobbing your head.

He groans out your name, low and gravelly with arousal.

"Christ," He swears, eyebrows pinching together. There's a pretty red stripe blooming across his face. His breathing is heavier than usual, one of his hand slithering into your hair and gripping it — surprisingly, it's not harsh, and he doesn't tug on it He just grips it, following your motion as you bob your head.

It doesn't take long til' you feel his cock throb, twitching. You increase your tongue movements, your bobbing, and Micah let's out a few sounds of pleasure, gasping and immediately biting his lip to silence himself as he finally, finally, grips your hair and pushes you down to the base of his cock.

Your nose buries into the golden nest of pubes, his scent stronger and heavier there. His cock throbs in your mouth, jolting as spurts of cum spill in your mouth, well, down your throat. It's just like Micah to not give you a choice in swallowing, and you find that you don't care, really.

After a few minutes, Micah relaxes his grip on your hair. You pull off his softening cock and immediately grip his face. It catches him off guard, and even moreso when you kiss him.

It's nasty, messy, teeth clinking together and your tongue forcibly slipping inside his mouth, if only to deposit the leftover cum. Micah groans, accidentally dropping the blunt, his hands coming to grip your shoulders and hold onto you. He's filthy, diabolical, and very into the kiss, tongues meeting each other and trading saliva, licking over teeth and gums, spit dribbling down both your chins as you make out like the filthy, rancid animals you both were.

You smile against his lips.

[hannahssimblr]

“Jude! God, c’mere.” Michelle thrusts me into the centre of the group, where someone has propped a card against a vase on the counter. I ensure to arrange my features carefully into some sort of surprised expression. 

“Oh, what? This for me?”

“Yes,” they cry. It’s a handmade card that says ‘you’re dead to us’ on the front. “Aw, Jesus, thanks!” I say, and they laugh and watch me while I open it and start reading some messages scrawled on the inside. There are so many of them, many even squeezed into the tiniest corners, or sideways along the edge.

‘Good luck on your big adventure!’ some say. Others share a memory, wish me luck, express jealousy at my escape. I close it. 

“I’ll read this late when you’re not all gawking at me,” I tell them, which gets a good laugh despite the lack of comedy, and as I look around at their faces, their sad, sentimental smiles and I wish the night was over already, and I was already gone. I feel exposed, like a man under a spotlight without something to say. Would they like me to entertain them? To read their messages and get emotional in the middle of my kitchen?

I catch Jen’s eye. She’s behind the others, by the patio door, dressed in a very funereal black, and an expression to match. While chatter resumes around me, I jerk my head towards the garden, and without words, she understands. She slips through the door and out into the night. 

Jen and I wordlessly follow the path that winds down from the house to the pergola at the back of the garden. We sit on a bamboo settee shielded by trees from the road, where the occasional car passes. The breeze lifts pieces of her hair that frame her face. 

She is staring towards the kitchen, its yellow light pouring out into the garden when she breaks the silence. 

“What a weird party.” 

I exhale a laugh through my nose. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even come.”

She purses her lips. “I’m not totally sure why I did.”

“Maybe you had something you wanted to say.”

“Maybe. Though I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear it.” She looks at me then, her brown eyes dark in the failing light as they study mine. “It surprised me to see Evie here.”

“Me too. I didn’t think she’d come.”

“On her own, too.”

I shrug. “Shane and Claire were busy. They were going to their debs.”

“Ah, the debs.” She picks lint from her black mesh top and laughs humourlessly. “Bet you’re sorry you’ll miss ours. I know how excited you were to suit up for it.”

Even the concept of wearing a suit makes me uncomfortable, as though an invisible tie is pulled too tightly at my throat. “You’re going, I presume.”

“Yeah, with Michelle. The two of us are kind of like the dateless losers in the year. Feels about right to end it all this way.”

“I didn’t think Michelle would be interested in all that stupid stuff, if I’m honest.”

“I think that’s what you assumed. If you’d asked her, she might have told you something different.”

“Hm,” I say. “More evidence of being a kind of shit boyfriend, isn’t it?”

An infinitesimal smile nudges at her lips. “I always said you were better apart. She really brought out the worst in you.”

“It felt that way, to be honest. When I was with her, I really didn’t like myself, or I wasn’t completely myself around her.”

“Well, then. Hopefully, one day you’ll find someone who lets you be yourself. It’s what everyone wants for themselves.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I kind of thought you’d found that with Evie.”

I sigh, suddenly irritated, while she draws into herself, hands tucked under her arms. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know the right thing to say about her.”

“I kind of wish you wouldn’t say anything to me about her, because, like…”

“It isn’t my business, and all that,” she finishes, and with a nod, she turns her face toward the bushes flanking the garden with their spiky black leaves silhouetted against the deep blue sky.

My voice trembles. “Jen, I don’t want to be angry with you right now, like, I don’t want to go off and start this new part of my life when I feel this way, but the things you said to Evie at the festival, I just… It’s like, no matter how much I think it over, I can’t come up with a reason you would say those things to her.”

She tugs the sleeve of her top between her teeth, just shaking her head. I lift my hands from my lap to look at them. They are quivering, so I clench them into fists as I continue.

“You should have been there on that second night, Jen, and seen the way she was crying. The things you said got into her head, you know what I mean? You can’t just make shit up and tell it to someone like it’s a fact. I know you love to gossip and tell stories, but this is what happens when you go too far. It has real consequences. Like, a real impact on people.”

“Yeah.”

“You told her I was staying.”

Again, she agrees, eyes still fixed on the garden. 

“Jen.”

She swallows, hard. 

“How come you said that? It’s not like I ever told you I was going to do that, is it?”

She mumbles something incoherent. 

“What? Come on, just talk to me.”

“I assumed you would.”

“You assumed? Why would you assume?”

I realise that speaking is difficult for her, as she is holding back her tears. I should feel more sympathetic towards her, but I’m righteous. With a steadiness I know is shrinking her, I stare into her face.

“Maybe it was both that I assumed and I hoped. Like, a mixture of the two.”

“Go on.”

“You seemed happy this summer, at certain moments. It was just… like,” a laboured swallow, “you’d come home late after being with her, and you were just… Happy, and talking all about her and going on and on about the funny things she said to you.”

“So?”

“So, like, I thought you’d end up going out with her in the end, and that you felt so strongly about her that you’d stay in Dublin to be with her. I don’t know, it didn’t seem that crazy an idea. You were acting like you were in love or something.” Now, she looks at me, her eyes hurt, but still searching for confirmation. Perhaps, if she were especially astute, she might have seen somewhere on my face the flash of emotion that jolted through me. I convince myself she hasn’t seen a thing and clench my jaw. 

“I think that was a fairly stupid assumption to make.”

“I don’t. You’ve always done things because pretty girls wanted you to. It’s like your life is based around chasing whatever feeling it is that you get when one of them likes you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s not,” I insist. “Look at me now, huh? I’m leaving her for Germany.”

“Fine,” she whispers. “I just thought you’d stay. That’s all.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Do you?”

She exhales, frustrated, and throws her hands upon her lap. “Yes, I know it. Look at me, here, at your going away party. It’d be pretty fucking mental if I didn’t know it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve acknowledged it.”

“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

“Before that, Jen.”

She fixes the full, passionate force of her stare at me as tears fill her eyes. “Because I don’t want you to go, do I? Because I thought if I didn’t look at it, then it’d all just go away.”

I feel a surge of emotion. My throat tightens as though clenched by a fist. “Well… It doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” as the first tears spill onto her cheeks, she wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I just didn’t want things to end. I thought if you stayed for her, then I wouldn’t have to lose you, and nothing would change.”

“They have to, though. That’s how life goes. Everything changes and everything ends, and we all just get older and things move on.”

She whimpers. “But you’re moving on without me.”

I reach out and stroke her knee with my thumb over the loose threads of the hole in her jeans. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’ll just live your life, and I’ll live mine, and-”

“We’ll be apart. How can I go without seeing you all the time? You’ve always just been there, and now I’ll have to get used to you being so far away, and never seeing you, and you’re, like, one of the few friends I even have, and you-”

“No, come on. You’ll make new friends in college.”

“I don’t want new friends. I don’t want to meet new people and have to explain these little things about me, and my backstory and what I like to watch on TV and order at the takeaway, and what sorts of jokes make me laugh. You already know it all, and you’ll know them better than anyone else ever will, because you were there when I decided I liked them.”

“Jenny, we’ll still talk, and we’ll visit each other-”

“There’s no point pretending it’ll be the same, because it won’t. You’re going to say you’ll stay in touch with me and we’ll be best friends forever, but that won’t happen. You’ll find people who are better, and just forget.”

“Never.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter three

wutiwant saraunh0ly

❝More awake inside of my dreams, was that really you next to me?

Gimme what I want, who am I supposed to please?

Who am I supposed to please?❞

previous chapter next chapter

You couldn't help but to get absolutely fucking frustrated with Kenma. After so long, the little petty act from him had gotten so deep under your skin. You weren't one to tolerate something so stupid and childish, especially when you were nothing but courteous.

Kenma had somehow caused you to stop refraining from your usual nice manner and instead seemed to have brought a hateful part of you out.

It had all started when you had changed your seat in a class, seemingly nothing right? Wrong.

Apparently, the universe hates you because as you roamed the seating options, choosing once further in the back before class started, you had dangerously realized that Kenma had this class too.

The burning hatred on his face was more than known when you also apparently took his exact same seat. He stood there with his books in hand, now a bored expression on his face as if he was waiting for you to automatically get up.

"There's no assigned seats, find another one." You side eyed him, a cold tone encasing your words. A scrunch of his face was duly noted when he walked across the room, avoiding a seat near you as much as possible.

Somehow, that filled you with excitement, giving the exact same energy back to him as he had been doing to you.

That's what his mean ass gets, you smirked to yourself. However, you couldn't help the hot and cold shiver of excitement that coursed through you. Suddenly, it was extremely hot in the light brown sweater you had picked out today.

Kenma on the other hand, knew that you had this class with him on the first day. From that day forward, he watched you like a hawk. Every movement, every sip from your pink water bottle, every single interaction you'd have with a classmate.

He'd be in the back watching you, unable to take his eyes off the way you were just... you.

He couldn't help but to act like this towards you. You messed his life up from the beginning, knowing who you were even before you guys had properly met. The crosswalk incident never seemed to have crossed your mind when you saw him. It had been in his mind ever since he saw how absolutely beautiful you looked, listening to a song he knew which made you even more attractive in his eyes.

Anyways, deep down you knew that this eventually would not solve anything between you two. You actually had to talk with Kuroo about this now, before it really got too far. That's not something you really wanted to do though.

Class had blown by in a breeze, you couldn't stop staring at the back of Kenma's head as he wrote down notes, doodled a bit in his notebook, and even stretched to avoid cramping.

You were so enthralled with him; you could sense it. You shoved that down to only wanting to be friends and not wanting to fight with your roommate.

"Kuroo, I just feel like Kenma doesn't really like me." You confessed, sitting on the couch at home, wrapped in a blanket.

"Nonsense, Kenma can be ... something, but I'm sure he just hasn't warmed up to you yet." He spoke so surely that maybe you just have imagined the past few interactions with Kenma.

Except... you haven't. Kenma truly was being a dickhead to you, you knew that much.

Kenma on the other hand, knew he was too. He couldn't stand that you actually live with them. Your presence –your scent– was everywhere even if you weren't there at all.

He couldn't bare it anymore. The lustrous thoughts of you filled his mind and he loathed it. He loathed you. But he couldn't help himself when you and Kuroo were out of the apartment, and he took a peek into your room.

He found it girlish and utterly weird to say the least, however, that didn't stop from taking an article of clothing from your dirty hamper. Kenma felt so dirty, so invasive, but he was getting unbelievably hard at the fact you might have worn these the night before.

Your pink and white dotted panties with a pretty bow on them taken by Kenma as a trophy. The dirty act of doing it sent an electrical shock down his spine, he hated you so much, to the point where he craved you so badly.

His hard cock had strained against his underwear and sweatpants he had so often worn. Seeing a dried wet stain on them was the straw that broke the camel's back for him. Kenma's eyes were lidded with lust, knowing that he didn't have nearly enough time to fully please himself with this article of clothing till you or Kuroo came back to the apartment.

You didn't have a clue of any of this, of course, only focused on telling Kuroo to talk to Kenma for you – not wanting him to hate you anymore.

And you definitely left out the bits where you've cussed back at Kenma or sarcastically responded back just because he decided to be an extra asshole like. A recurring memory strikes especially during the Saturday nights where you had made dinner for everyone on the weekends, but he insisted that he was sure it would kill him if he ate it.

"If you say so," You responded, picking at your nails, not having anything else to say or better to do.

"How about you come with me? I was going to go meet up with some friends from high school and I'm pretty sure you'd like to meet them." Kuroo says with a smile, if you hadn't known any better you would think that he was trying to cheer you up from the nonsense that Kenma was on.

"I guess." you sighed, deciding that you'd use this opportunity to make some friends outside of class and get your mind off of Kenma's antics towards you.

It was a brisk walk that you and Kuroo took, catching up on his classes and how he was doing lately since it felt like you both haven't really talked a lot lately.

He was going on about how he has been staying after lectures to help some of his classmates with work they were troubled on. In Kuroo's head, it just seemed like the perfect excuse to help you, and Kenma got along better when he wasn't around. Clearly, so far it has been backfiring.

No matter how many times Kuroo tried to talk some sense into Kenma, obviously knowing how you feel when he acts like such a dickhead to you, he just wouldn't budge. He'd claim that you're the one who is always provoking him.

"Oh, so that's why you've been wearing those so much? I thought you finally realized how well they suit your face but no, you got a compliment from a girl." You rolled your eyes, giggling at how silly Kuroo was sometimes.

"She was cute, okay?" He tried defending himself, knocking on the white apartment door you guys arrived at, blushing ever so slightly at this girl he had class with and occasionally helped her with her work.

Luckily his escape from this conversation was when a man opened the door. He was tall, broad shoulders, and had a funny spiky updo of white-gray hair that had black streaks in it – it didn't look half bad.

However, the most peculiar feature about him wasn't his build, or his hair, not even his clothes, it was eyes. Those eyes... were strange to say the least. Round, stark golden-colored eyes watched you like a hawk – no, like an owl. It was almost eerie how similar you could compare the two together.

He looked attractive and magnetic to be around, you understood why Kuroo was friends with him after all.

"Hey, hey, hey! Kubro!" The man interrupted your thoughts, embracing Kuroo into a man hug.

"Sup bro! How have you and Akaashi been?" Kuroo asked as they broke from the 'bro hug' and the man opened the door wider so you both could enter.

"We're great! Who's this little thing here?" He peered down at you, a wide smile on his face which suited him a lot.

"Hi, I'm Kuroo's roommate. Y/n." You returned a smile back at him, his joyous grin becoming infectious.

"Ah, I remember now. I'm Bokuto, this is my apartment that I share with my boyfriend!" He announced to you, which you nodded to, not really sure what to respond with.

"Kaashi! Come meet Y/n," The man loudly called for, who you were guessing, his lover.

A man emerged from around the corner of the living room, you assumed that's what it was. He was wearing a sweater that suited him nicely matched with a pair of black slacks. He had glasses on, which flattered his angled face very well. If Bokuto was handsome and magnetic then Akaashi was pretty and elegant.

"Kou, you don't have to shout. I can hear. Hello, I'm Keiji Akaashi," He extended his hand to shake yours – something Bokuto hadn't done.

"Hi, nice to meet you." You shook it, being polite and offering a smile.

"Would you like some tea?" You answered yes to the offering, turning away from what Tetsu and Bokuto were talking about and followed Akaashi into the kitchen. It was very homey here, and even smelled great. He put a kettle on and let you choose which kind of tea bag you'd prefer.

You let out a gasp, seeing your favorite tea in the mix, which was cinnamon apple spice. "This one please, I love it so much!" You couldn't help but to gush.

That caught Akaashi's attention, and he immediately turned toward you, a newfound friend he could speak to about tea.

"Tell me about it, I love the after spice it gives." He smiled; it was alluring. It made your mind wander to Kenma and how he'd look when he smiled, not his usual grimace that covered his face when you were around.

After a few mindless minutes of comparing favorite teas and even going so far to discuss different brands the topic switched to something else – or someone else. And that twisted your stomach in knots, however, you weren't too sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"So, you're rooming with Kuroo and Kenma? How has that been?" He sat across from you at the glass table, both holding and sipping the teas.

"Well..." You trailed a bit, slightly chewing the membrane off the inside of your cheek. You didn't really know how to phrase how it was going.

Eventually, you went with your gut and began, "Honestly, living with Kuroo has been a breeze. I've known him since I was in primary school so there are no bumps in the road with him." Not even bringing up Kenma until he just had to ask.

"And Kenma?" He questioned, finding it weird that you had only mentioned Kuroo and not the other roommate you were also living with.

“Uh, it’s been fine, I guess.” You were going to leave it there but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, he’s been really fucking mean. Ever since the day I moved in, it feels like he’s hated my presence and I don’t even know what I did to him.”

“He’s just so infuriating sometimes and can't even bear a simple ‘thank you’ when I try to include him in things or get him his favorite coffee.” You grumbled, letting out more and more of a rant to Akaashi who was just sitting there, looking at you so intently while you spoke. It was as if he was silently urging you to continue.

“Don’t even get me started on the sassy ass remarks he loves to give me on the off chance he’s not trying so hard to avoid me. I’ve tried everything to be his friend and he’s just not budging and I don’t know what to do.” You sighed, finally out with all of the mess that’s been troubling you for the past weeks.

You knew it had to be quite some time that you’ve held all that in since it was the end of September.

“Hm, would you like advice?” He peered down at his now half empty cup, the tea delicious.

You peered up to him, surprised.

“You’d give me advice on how to deal with him?” You asked, curiously.

“Well, yeah. I’ve known Kenma since high school so I ought to at least give you some advice on his antics.” Akaashi explained as if it was desperately obvious.

To you, though, it wasn’t. However, you still nodded him along to tell you what you should do.

“It’s simple, just keep being nice when you can. Kenma can get under peoples skin sometimes but I guess we all have known him so long that it doesn’t really affect us anymore.” He spoke with intent, getting up to put his cup in the sink.

Keep being nice? It sounded like a load of garbage to be completely honest, but Akaashi had known Kenma for a while, along with Bokuto and Kuroo. So, you guess you had no other choice but to follow it. 

Soon, the hang out was over and you exchanged numbers with Bokuto and Akaashi. You enjoyed that you had a nice advocate for you if you needed it – meaning Akaashi, or Keiji as he asked for you to call him.

You felt better about your hardy relationship with Kenma and planned to fix it too. Plus, it was nice to rant about your troubles to someone who listens very well.

They make a great couple; you thought as you and Kuroo walked on the way back to the apartment. The evening chill, flickering lights of streetlamps, and tugging your sweater close to your skin was so dulcetly ephemeral to you.

Your eyes started to lid, yearning for your bed as you couldn't keep up with the conversation of Kuroo telling you about how he and Bokuto met.

"You know, I'm really grateful for you," You suddenly felt sentimental when that left your mouth. Memories of Kuroo and you since you were young fleeted through the front of your mind.

Kuroo turned towards you with a curious look, "I'm exceptionally grateful for you, Y/n."

There wasn't any more talking till you both arrived at the apartment. You wondered in another universe if you and Kuroo had ever been actual siblings instead of found family siblings.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire smau came from @deftrow !! i made the banner

[bimbo-baggins17]

KINKTOBER REQUEST!

hear me out:

incest, boot worship, and rape (I forget the numbers oops) with Kurt Matheson.

the idea in my head was that you're his sister or daughter. because of his untreated issues and very sensitive mental state, you visit him often to check on him. you end up staying over one night, nd during that night, it became unsafe to go outside, so you're stuck with him until further notice.

he confides in you about how long it's been since he's had a woman around him, and you get weirded out and ask him to stop, which bums him out.

in the middle of the night, he comes onto you, babbling about how desperate he is and how pretty you are and how much he needs you. ofc, he's a vet and works out, so he's much stronger and can easily overpower you. you wake up out of your sleep screaming and crying, and he ends up raping you.

finally feeling some sort of control, he tells you to worship him - his body, his voice, his very being - and he starts with shoving you down onto your hands and knees, one booted foot heavy on your spine while you're forced to lick at his other boot, cleaning away the dirt and grime.

I KNOW I JUST WROTE THE WHOLE DAMN THING OUT, BUT IF ANYONE CAN WRITE THIS, IT'S YOU!

I’M POSTING THIS ONE EARLY BECAUSE I CANT KEEP IT TO MYSELF ANYMORE

I know I already told you in our messages how much I loved this but OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. YOUR BRAIN IS BEAUTIFUL BNUUY. Hands down my favorite request like EVER. I went with it being his daughter. Definitely more of a fic than a drabble. Oopsies.

TW: DDDNE!!! Rape and incest!!! Don’t like, don’t read.

One of the only times Kurt would make an exception to answering the door is when he knew you were expected. Every other week, like clockwork, you’d come with some groceries and necessities for your mentally unstable father.

“Hurry. Come in, come in.” His voice is gruff as he quickly ushers you in out of the storm before locking the door once you’re barely past the threshold.

You take a moment to look around his dimly lit space, discarded food cans litter the floor. You sigh as you set the bags of groceries down before stooping to try tidy clean some of it up. Kurt turns to come over to you, his eyes drifting to your ass as you do.

“You know, if you kept your space clean, it would probably help you a bit mentally.” You say with your back still to him. Honestly it probably wouldn’t do much to his fragile mental state but you still tried.

“You worry too much.” He says dismissively coming up beside you.

With a sigh, you straighten up and look at him, “Maybe you don’t worry enough.”

He huffs out a laugh, “You sound just like your mother. Trust me. I worry plenty.”

You shake your head but drop it instead, not wanting to argue. It was draining with him and you were always walking on egg shells. You opt for putting away the items you brought. “I’ll get these put away and then I’ll head out. I can’t stay long this time, sorry dad.”

He exhales and rubs a hand over his stubble. “Can’t give your old man a couple more minutes?”

“Sorry, not tonight. But I’ll be back next week with your med refills.”

He waves a hand at that, “Don’t. Theyre useless anyways.”

You stop and look up at him. “Are you implying you aren’t taking them anymore?”

Kurt looks away, shaking his head. “They don’t work anyways.”

“They can’t work if you don’t take them consistently. We’ve been over this.”

“Yeah you really sound like your mother now.”

You give him a look, unamused by him. “I only say that because I care.”

The lights flicker and both of you look over to the window seeing the storm has gotten significantly worse in the short amount time you’ve been here.

Your dad looks back to you again, “I don’t think I’m comfortable with you out in the weather like this.”

And that’s how you get roped into staying the night at your dad’s. You knew he worried. God he worried about everything. What led to your parents’ divorce was that exact reason. His PTSD got worse and worse until he was unable to leave the house for fear of the end of the world.

Both of you sit on the floor with a lantern between the two of you, barely giving off enough light. The sound of the storm outside drowns out the scraping of utensils in the cans you were eating from.

“How’s school been? I feel so out of the loop anymore.” Kurt speaks up, trying to make conversation.

You shrug lazily, “Alright I guess. You’d be in the loop more if you had a cellphone like a normal person.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll ignore that comment,” He mumbles. His eyes move slowly over you again. He’d be lying if he didn’t think you were beautiful, the way your curves filled out more over time, the way your breasts seemed to nearly double in size over the last year. His chewing halts for a second as he feels a familiar twitch in his pants, one he hadn’t felt in so long. “You got a boyfriend?” He questions after a moment.

You stop and look up at him, shaking your head, “No.”

Slowly he nods his head. “You should. You’re beautiful.”

You shift a little where you sit, uncomfortable with the compliment. Sure it was normal for a dad to compliment his daughter but not your dad. “Um. Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re looking more and more like your mom did in her prime.”

You look up at him again, “Uh..yeah I guess so.”

“Filling out like her too. Getting her curves.” He continues on. He probably should stop but it’s been so long and yeah it’s probably wrong but he’s so starved for pussy, he’ll take whatever he can. It’d be a waste of a perfect opportunity if he didn’t try.

“Dad?” You question with your eyebrows furrow together tightly.

He sighs and hangs his head. “Sorry. It’s just,” Kurt sighs once more and shifts a little closer to you placing a calloused hand on your leg. “It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman and I-“

“Oh my god, dad. Gross! Stop it!” You shove his hand off of you and quickly put some distance back between you too.

Kurt’s hand clenches into a fist as he brings it back to his lap. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.” He tries to suppress the disappointment in his voice.

“I’m going to bed, I just..ugh.” You were unnerved to say the least. You get up off the floor, leaving the half eaten can of food on the ground.

“You-uh..you can take my cot.” He calls after you before he’s mentally beating himself up again. This was going to be a long night.

Kurt tosses and turns for what feels like hours on the floor, his cock so painfully hard. He sits up a little to look at you on his cot. You looked so peaceful while sleeping, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest with each breath. It was pure torture to have a woman so close but not being able to do anything about it. Any rational part of his brain was gone years ago so his conscience wasn’t telling him to stop as he got up off the floor, slowly making his way over to your sleeping form.

He reaches down and brushes some hair off your face, “So beautiful,” He murmurs, letting his hand move off your face, slowly tracing down your neck over the pulse point, then your collarbone before he’s allowing himself to squeeze your supple breast. He bites down on his lip to keep from making any noise noticing you weren’t wearing a bra to sleep. His cock throbs.

Kurt palms himself to try and cause any kind of relief this way as he continues to knead your breast, feeling the pebbled nipple poking his palm. He lets out a shuddered exhale. His eyes trail down further seeing the hem of your shirt bunched up a little. A peek wouldn’t hurt right? Not like you’d know. Slowly he inches the shirt up until he’s able to see at least one of your breasts. Leaning down slowly, he presses an open mouthed kiss to it.

You stir a little in your sleep but don’t wake up. He freezes for a second to make sure you stay asleep before he envelopes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, releasing it. Making a bolder choice, he lets his hand continue its decent to the waistband of your pants before he’s slipping it in, finding your cunt with his fingers. He draws in a shaky breath feeling how you were wet. “What’re you dreaming about babygirl?” He whispers into the dark.

Against anyone else’s better judgment, he eases your pants and panties down, revealing your core to him. He hesitates for a second looking at it, imagining how tight it would feel wrapped around his shaft.

“I’m so sorry baby. Just been so long..and..and it hurts. You know I love you. You’re my beautiful little girl. I know you’d forgive your dear old dad for this.” He rambles quietly before he’s easing onto the bed between your legs as he bends them. Quickly he fishes his leaking cock out, running it through your folds.

Time isn’t a luxury he has right now. As much as he’d love to savor this, he can’t so he pushes into you, keeping his eyes on your face to make sure you aren’t waking up. Slowly he starts to rock into you, biting back moans that threaten to spill out.

“Oh sweet girl..so good to me.” He pants out, rocking his hips into you faster as he chases his much needed release. The caution he had at first is quickly abandoned as his thrusts grow harsher.

You’re stirred from your slumber feeling something that you most definitely shouldn’t be. Hazily you try to make sense of what’s going on as you come to your senses. Quickly you put together that your father is on top of you fucking into you. “Wha-? S-stop! Stop!”

Kurt’s eyes fly open and land on your face seeing you’re now awake. “Shh..it’s okay baby. I know. I know. Just couldn’t help myself-“

You claw at him to try and get him off, shoving at him but he doesn’t budge. “Dad! Please stop!!” You cry.

“No. No. Just-..nghh..be good for your dad.” He grits out.

You continue to squirm and try to fight which only serves to irritate him. He can’t have that. The years of working out and military training served well and he’s able to easily over power you, pinning you down tightly against the cot. “I said, be good.” He continue to pound into your poor pussy, taking what he wants and not caring about your protests.

“Stop! Please!” You keep repeating the words through far tears that roll down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry baby. You’re helping out your dad.” It’s his attempt to console you. As if reminding you it was your father who was fucking you would somehow make it better.

Your protests soon die off, continuing to cry and sniffle under him.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He coos before he’s cumming into you. He leans down to press a wet kiss to your chest. “Now tell daddy thank you.”

Quickly you shake your head. The worst was over, so you assumed. You’d leave after he got off of you. “What? No. You’re sick. Sicker than I thought.” You sniffle.

Kurt leans back, a scowl on his face. “Ungrateful brat.” He spits the words out.

Your eyes widen. You’d upset him, that much was clear. You shake your head again, taking back what you said for the sake of not having him rape you again. “No. No wait. I’m sorry..I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh yeah? You’re sorry, hm?”

You nod your head. “Yeah. Yes, yes I’m sorry dad.” It made you sick to call him that now.

“Show me then. Worship me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “W-what?”

“I said, worship me. Make your dad happy.”

You don’t even know where to begin, how to lie that well. Kurt is unhappy with how long you take. Slipping out of you, he quickly yanks you up and shoves you onto your stomach on the floor before you can process what’s happening, his one booted foot shoved directly into the center of your back while the other one rested by your head on the floor.

“Lick it.” He instructs.

“What? Lick what?”

He huffs in frustration, “My boot. Lick it. Show your dad how much you love him.”

You start to protest despite your compromised position, but Kurt presses his boot more firmly into your back. “Lick. It.”

You shakily raise your head and stick your tongue out, giving a little kitten lick to the toe of it.

“More.” He encourages, adding more pressure. “Clean it with your damn tongue.”

You sniffle but oblige him, knowing you weren’t getting out of this without doing so. You run your tongue along the toe of his boot, moving to the front of it, dipping down to the sole of it.

“There we go. Much better.” He praises, “Now tell me you love me.”

You suck in a shaky breath, “I-love you dad.”

He hums happily, “Good. Now my voice.”

“I..love your voice.” You sniffle.

He releases a little of the pressure on your back, “My body.”

You fight the urge to recoil at the words he wants you to speak, “I-…I love your body.” You want to puke.

“Mm. There we go. You made your dad so happy, little girl.” He praises softly, “That wasn’t so bad, yeah?”

You shake your head for the sake of appeasing him, “N-no..it wasn’t.”

“Good,” He takes his boot off of your back but then places it down infront of your face. “Now lick this one.”