#and that's also how people decided what to keep and what to toss - something else i think people need to be aware off

[nervousimposter]

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read. 

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. 

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch. 

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes. 

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting. 

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. 

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets. 

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us. 

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else. 

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think. 

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you. 

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper. 

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best! 

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial. 

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.  

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner. 

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

[ihadlife]

poly task force 141 and their service animal irish wolfhound hybrid!reader

tags: 18+, dubcon (because of reader being a hybrid), poly relationship, fem!reader, hybrid!reader, tall reader, unprotected sex, oral sex, impact play, praise kink, dom/sub, rough sex, semi public sex, implied threesome, let me know if i forgot something else

price who sees that his lads are too stressed and it's negatively affecting their job performance so he decides it's time to get a service animal. that's where you come to the scene – an irish wolfhound hybrid that's supposed to keep the boys' tension at bay and make them happy. with your almost imposing height, sturdy bones, and gentle and affectionate nature, you're the perfect addition to the team. being taller than soap and gaz, people around the base who don't know you find you intimidating and leave you alone, but behind closed doors, your tail wags quicker than a lap dog's. 

soap is the first one to take a liking to you. having a puppy dog personality himself, it's very easy to connect with him rather quickly. he's also very handsy with you right from the start – scratching your scalp, gently massaging your floppy ears, rubbing your belly. he never reprimands you for licking all over his face in your excitement, on the other hand, he welcomes it. he also loves to play fight with you, testing your strength and not being afraid of tossing you around since he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you due to your size. he's also the first to have sex with you. figured it would be him to step over the notional line. it starts with you two play fighting as you usually do; you roll over and manage to get on top of soap, pinning his hands to the floor. except you're not stronger than the professionally trained soldier so, in a few seconds, his hands are on your hips and helping you grind against him, having popped a boner during your play fight like a damn teenager. it's like this most of the time afterwards – you on top, riding soap while he tells you what a good job you're doing, how well–behaved you are. he's a bit selfish with it but he makes you feel good too, so you can't complain. 

gaz is so sweet to you. he's by far the sweetest in the group, praising you for every little thing you do. wagging your fluffy tail when you see him? licking his palm as he pets you? just sitting on the couch in the rec room, watching the tv and looking cute? he's immediately on you, petting you everywhere he can reach and complimenting you endlessly. he is the second one to get to know you intimately. hearing soap boasting about your sexual escapades, he slowly gets bolder with his touches. he starts gently tugging on your ears while petting them as if to gauge your reaction. his fingers tease your lower abdomen while giving you belly rubs, drifting lower and lower, just barely touching around your heat. it feels like an eternity to you before he finally fucks you but it's so so worth it. gaz is the most doting owner you've ever had, spoiling you beyond belief and making sure that everything he does makes you feel good. this in turn makes you so eager to please him, to reciprocate, to return the favours. sometimes he lets you, watching you as you happily slobber all over his dick and lick and suck on his balls, nuzzling your face as close as you can to his groin. and sometimes he doesn't let you and instead focuses all his energy on you, making you feel like you're on a cloud nine. 

ghost is the hardest nut to crack. you learn pretty quickly that the soldier doesn't like you eager and sweet like the rest of the team does, instead, he finds that behaviour of yours annoying. you adjust accordingly, giving him his much-needed space and always approaching carefully and calmly. if ghost can't handle your excitement, then you'll tone it down. you'll do anything to make your new owners happy. sometimes you have to sit on your own tail to physically stop it from wagging happily when he lets you sit closer to him and then eventually even rest your head on his lap. it takes time but you and ghost find your way to each other and it becomes almost second nature to you to calmly come to him when he's relaxing or lounging around, sit on his lap and cuddle with him. despite your best efforts, ghost never bites the bait and never fucks you. he never even touches you properly, even though you're sitting on his lap, thighs spread over his own, whining and trying to get any kind of friction. he can be pretty mean to you too – when you get too whiny or squirm around too much, he'll slap your puffy pussy to make you behave. there's no real force behind those little slaps but they shock you every time nonetheless. 

it's price who you then come to afterwards, all teary-eyed and miserable, a proper crybaby. as you understand it, price is the pack leader and he's your favourite out of all your owners – he was the one who chose you for his family and the one who looks after you the most. he's not as playful as soap, nor as doting as gaz, nor as serene as ghost, but there's something about him that makes you trust him the most. you know that he's fair and that he will look after you no matter what. which is why you come to him regularly after your cuddle sessions with ghost, all pent up and frustrated, silently complaining to him and waiting for him to do something about it. what he does most often is he sits you on his lap, your back against his chest and your legs spread over his thighs as he plays with your sloppy pussy and pushes his fingers in and out of you in a languid rhythm. he asks you questions in the meantime and makes you answer them. 'What exactly did Ghost do that got you into such a state?' and 'What about Soap, did you have fun last night? Tell me exactly what you did.' and 'You should pay a visit to Gaz after I'm done with you. You will, won't you? You will be a good puppy for me, right?' you nod your head and try to answer as well as you can but it's hard when his fingers pick up speed and are pushing against the spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll into your head. he only ever fucks you after making you cum on his fingers or on his tongue. and when he does, it's rough. it's rough because he knows you can take it. and you love it. he oftentimes presses his forehead against yours, or holds your hand during it, still praising you for being such a good puppy for him, keeping his task force happy. and you're so happy you have tears in your eyes as the force of his thrusts jolts you up and down on his office table. he doesn't stop even when there's a knock at his door, when one of his pack members walks into the office, the question they had dying on their lips as they watch you getting fucked out of your mind. he even invites them to join the two of you after he fills you with the first load of his hot, sticky cum.  

all works © ihadlife. all characters are already adult, or aged up. do not copy, plagiarise, or promote my works on any platforms. i do not own any characters unless specified. 

[gogotti]

Michael Myers/GN! Reader - NSFW

Here we go again with another Michael fic, this time it’s Kinktober and not just me horny posting on main LMFAO

This fic's prompt was Humping

WARNINGS: Michael humps you so nsfw, Michael pins the reader down but reader is into it. This is the tamest thing I’ve written in months so there’s not much else I can add warning wise.

It wasn't often that the massive man who occupied your home needed something from you other than basic necessities, but it was a nightmare trying to figure out when he did. Michael didn't talk and didn't bother trying other ways of communication, so he was basically a brick wall that moved around and routinely demanded food from you. Most days, when he'd decided that he wanted to be difficult, you'd struggle endlessly trying to figure out what he wanted, but this time you tried something different. Your plan was to give him a list of all of the things you could offer him at the moment, and then get him what he needed, simple enough. You went through the entire list, even adding things onto the list that you didn't even want to do, just to not get any response from him. After the second attempt, you didn't even bother anymore, instead staring at him in silence. He still didn't acknowledge you at all, not even by tossing an unopened piece of candy in your face like he normally would have. To say you were confused was an understatement, and you couldn't help but let fear crawl up your spine.

You didn't think he was sad or anything since he wouldn't be sitting on your couch clean if that were the case, and if he were hungry he would have already picked you up from your spot at the other end of the couch and placed you in front of the fridge. You slowly scooched over to him, keeping a safe distance just in case he was in one of his choking moods.

“Michael? You okay?”

Obviously, he didn't respond, and a part of you wanted to go back to your comfy spot and relax again, but you knew whatever his problem was would become a you problem if left alone. You reached out to touch his shoulder and Michael quickly took the opportunity to grab at your wrist and use his strength to twist you around and lay you flat on your stomach. You could only sigh uncomfortably, letting him adjust you to his liking before resting his body weight on you. You couldn’t stop him, you could only let your eyes widen slightly as you felt the source of his problems rest on your ass.

“oh.”

He huffed at you, grabbing your waist and seemingly feeling things out for a while. He didn't make much noise as he did this and only seemed to get impatient since he couldn't properly help himself. You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating whether or not to help him or let his frustration get the better of him, which would most likely end up with someone's dead relative on the news the next moring. You sighed again, you were not going to let innocent people die all because the infamous Michael Myers couldn’t figure out how to hump you properly. 

You arched your back, trying to angle yourself into a good position to make things easier for him. You succeeded in this, as the next time Michael grinded against you he let out the shakiest of sighs. You couldn't help but feel accomplished as he quickly found a rhythm; you also couldn't help the fact that with every low groan Michael let out above you, you felt a shock of pleasure hit you where it counts.  

He suddenly repositioned, now using one hand to grab onto your hip tightly and the other was placed above your head for stability. He picked up the pace as he humped you, the change in stance now giving him the friction he needed, and you could hear how much he enjoyed it. Low groans, grunts, and occasional growls left his mouth and left you a silent mess. You didn't know he would be so noisy but you couldn't care less, as every sound that spilled from his mouth you happily relished in, letting your mind wander to places you wouldn't have dared think about before this moment. 

You felt his humping become sloppy, and listened to his groans turn into huffs as he got closer to cumming.  Suddenly, he came crashing down on top of you, his arms now positioned above your head and his body completely engulfing yours, still humping you desperately as he almost silently whimpered at the feeling.

Once he stopped moving, he breathed heavily above you, and you relaxed your body, muscles slightly sore from holding the position for so long. The peace only lasted a short moment before Michael got up, not caring about you resting underneath him. You could only peek at him as he walked to the bathroom, catching a quick glimpse of the dark spot on the sweatpants he was wearing. 

You sat up slowly, the only things on your mind at the moment were mentally reviewing everything that happened for fuel on lonesome nights, and the creeping suspicion that this might become a regular occurrence. Either way, the result of either thought didn't bother you. In fact, the thought of the big bad Michael Myers humping you as if his life depended on it was something you quietly hoped for.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

A Haunting

dannymay day 26 art/fic switch

dp x dc crossover

1905 words

Danny was so done with Skulker. It was one thing to chase him and try to catch him to hang his skiing above the mantle, but it was a totally different thing to yeet him into an alternate timeline/dimension. Danny didn’t really care which. And he was extra annoying about it too. 

Skulker had been chasing Danny through Amity when a natural portal had opened up. Danny had been distracted and Skulker had used the opportunity to grab him and throw him through the portal,

And that was it. 

And so here Danny was who knows where, who knows when, for who knew how long. Well, Clockwork knows but that’s the equivalent of no one knowing because the Ancient doesn't know how to communicate.

Maybe Danny should sick Jazz on him to teach him the importance of communication. And also sick her on Skulker to teach him that it’s rude to launch your adversaries into unknown portals.

But first things first. He was hungry and required sustenance, preferably the greasy kind. 

Invisibly and intangibly he floated down to search for some food. Just in time to miss a bat swooping down onto the roof.

=-=-=-

Red Hood had been in the middle of…persuading one of Falcone’s members to talk when he saw a flash of green in the corner of his vision. He tossed the man aside and turned to see a crack in the sky the same color as the Lazarus pits open up above an abandoned apartment building. He could just see something falling through before the crack in the sky closed up. 

He was moving before he really thought about it.

It took him less than 5 minutes to land on the building's roof but as far as he could see there was nothing.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching up to his com.

“Oracle, I need you to pull up any feeds around the old Adam Apartments.”

“What am I looking for?”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

“What do you mean… oh. I’m patching everyone else in.”

“What is it, Oracle?” came NItghwing’s voice amidst the sounds of fighting.

“Hood spotted an anomaly over the Adam Apartments. It looked like a Lazarus Pit.

There was silence for a moment, then…

“What do you mean a Lazarus Pit!?”

“Are there any League members nearby?”

“Do we know where Talia is?”

“Are you sure Hood saw a pit?”

“Quiet! Hood tell us what happened.: came B’s voice.

“I was doing some business when I spotted a green tear in the sky. Something or someone fell out but when I got to the building I couldn’t find anything.”

“Alright, Nightwing heads over to Hood’s position and help investigate. Oracle, keep looking through any nearby cameras.  Everyone else, stick to your normal patrols and keep a lookout for any other anomalies.

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ and ‘will do , B’ sounded before the coms fell quiet.

=-=-

After Danny had eaten, a burger he had to swipe because apparently money was different in this dimension, he decided to explore. After all, there wasn’t much he could do except wait for a natural portal to show up. He stopped a few crimes because why not. And, he had to admit, it was hilarious to spook people with his slightly more eldritch form. Though, the muttering about another bat was confusing.

After flying through the shadier parts of town he came across some large mansions. And, well, Danny had always wanted to try his hand at haunting. 

-=-=-

Danny had only just started exploring the mansion and he had already found out that the owners were either furries or vigilantes. Then again, this was a different dimension. Maybe everyone here had secret basements and furry costumes. Danny shouldn’t assume. Then again again, his parents had a secret basement (kind of) and he was a vigilante (kind of). So, he totally had the right to assume. And judge. Who dressed up like bats and traffic lights?

Though, it would be cool to have a whole big lair with lots of gadgets instead of just hiding things under floorboards and in walls.

At least now he knew why the criminals he scared kept muttering about bats. 

But now it was time to start haunting!

-=-=

Time knew he should be in bed. Had been told repeatedly that he should go to bed. Had been  threatened that if he didn’t go to bed there would be consequences. But, well… he was technically in bed. Even if he wasn’t sleeping, or resting, he was sitting in bed. That had to count for something. Besides, he’d sleep as soon as he finished updating this case file. Maybe. He reached for his cup of coffee (decaf if anyone asked) and went to take a sip. But nothing came out. Tim frowned; he was sure he had just refilled it recently. That’s why he kept the secret coffee maker in his closet. He looked away from his computer to his cup and his frown deepened. His coffee was frozen.

-=-=-

Dick was staying at the manor over the weekend to help finish up a case which would probably now be delayed because of the Lazarus green anomaly that had been spotted. Oh well, that was a worry for tomorrow. Right now he was ready for a nice hot shower to relax his muscles and then a good sleep before waking up to a delicious Alfred made breakfast. 

After walking out of the shower he found his window open. Dick frowned. That was strange. He was sure the window had been closed. He shrugged, it was probably one of his siblings. He closed it and went to pull his sleepwear on. He was about to turn his lamp off when he saw that the window was open. He narrowed his eyes. He closed it again and watched it, but nothing happened. He turned towards his bed when he heard the window opening. He turned quickly but there was no one there and the window was open again.

-=-=-=

Damien had just laid down when his door creaked open.

“Who is it?” 

No one answered. Damien huffed and got up to close the door. It was probably Drake or maybe Todd. Regardless, Damien thought as he walked back to his bed, he would find out who and would show that they shouldn't mess with an Al’ Ghul.

His door creaked open again and Damien growled as he stalked open and slammed the door closed. Before he could turn around the door creaked open.

Damien inspected the door but couldn’t see how someone would be opening it remotely. 

He closed it again and when nothing happened headed back to bed. Had just closed his eyes several minutes later when the door opened again.

=-=-=

Jason had debated going to his safehouse but, and he wouldn’t admit this to anyone except maybe Alfred, he was nervous. Anything related to the Pits made him nervous. He didn’t want to fall back into a murderous rage. So, he’d stay at the manor just for tonight.

He still felt a little off. The Pit felt like it was stirring, but he didn’t feel angry. It felt like the Pit was calling out to something. Jason tried to ignore it as he made his way to his room where he hung up his leather jacket. Which promptly fell down. Jason rolled his eyes and picked up, he shivered his room felt colder than usual. He hung his jacket up and turned around only to hear it fall again. He scowled. If one of his brothers had done something…. But no, the hook looked normal and his jacket was fine.

But it wouldn’t stay hung up! Everytime he hung it up it promptly fell back down.

Well fine! If it wanted to lie on the ground then it would stay there. He was going to bed.

-=-=

Bruce was typing up tonight's report on the Batcomputer when the screen shut down. He frowned, The Batcomputer wasn’t supposed to randomly shut down. He turned it on but when he clicked on the report it opened up a video with some music video with some guy sign ‘never gonna give you up.’ Bruce scowled harder and clicked out and went back to the file. But this time when he tried typing no matter what keys he hit the only words that appeared on screen were the same lyrics.

He sighed. This was undoubtedly one of his kids trying to get him to go to bed. But just in case.

“Oracle, is there anything wrong with the Batcomputer?”

“Not that I can tell. Oh wait.”

Bruce tensed.

Oracle sounded like she was laughing.

“What is it?” 

“It looks like someone activated the “Rick Roll Procedure.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about, it was probably one of the boys.”

“Oracle, what’s the “Rick Roll Procedure”?

“Sorry, B. Got to go.” she signed off.

Bruce grunted. Fine, he’d go to bed, if only to please Alred.

=-=

Alfred was in the kitchen beginning preparation for tomorrow's breakfast. The scone dough was ready, all he needed to do was add the apples and then he could b=put it in the fridge to bake tomorrow. When he reached for the bowl containing the pre-cut apples his hand found nothing. He turned and saw that the bowl of apples had been moved farther away and a bag of chocolate chips had been placed near his mixing bowl. Alfred raised an eyebrow and went to retrieve the apples, but just as he reached it the bowl slid further away. 

Alfred froze. He looked around the kitchen but didn’t see any of the boys. But his eyes caught on an odd shimmer in the air near the apples.

Well then.

“Hello, there. I was unaware we had a guest. If you’ll allow me to take the apples I’ll make another batch of scones with chocolate chips.”

Nothing happened for a moment, but the bowl of apples slid towards him.

“Thank you very much.” Alfred said before returning to his work. He’d let Master Bruce know tomorrow morning that they might have a new family member soon.

=-=-=-

The next morning at breakfast there was much glaring and staring at one another through squinted eyes trying to establish guilt.

Finally, Damian spoke up. “Alright, which of you kept childishly opening my door?”

“What are you talking about? The real question is who messed with my coat hanger?” Jason said, pointing his fork at Damian.

“Well someone kept opening my window.”

“And someone froze my coffee.”

“What are you boys talking about?” Bruce said, setting down his newspaper.

“Someone’s been messing with things around the manor and it wasn’t me,” Jason said.

“We’re being haunted!” Dick said with way too much enthusiasm.

“What?” Bruce asked, sounding somewhere between confused and concerned, a common occurrence when it came to his sons.

“Are you discussing our guest?” Alfred asked as he came in carrying two plates of scones. “It is thanks to them that we are having both apple cinnamon and chocolate chip scones.”

A clamor arose.

“What!

“Who?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What is their purpose here?”

Alfred cleared his throat and everyone fell silent. “Perhaps, they’d like to introduce themselves?” He looked toward the back corner of the room, one eyebrow raised.

Everyone turned to stare just as a floating figure materialized. “Hi, I’m Danny, you’re resident Casper.”

[the-little-ewok]

Only yours

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 3700 (ish)

Warnings : Explicit / PIV (unprotected sex) / praise kink / mild possessiveness / mentions of oral sex (m&f recieving) / dirty talk / thigh riding / brief fingering / mild Dom Din/ fluffyness / pinning / finger biting (idk is that a warning?) / The helmet comes off / consent is sexy/ aftercare

Prompts / Summary : I love it when you talk dirty, Open your mouth, I'd hold onto something if I were you / A second of playfulness leads to a night of passion with the Mandalorian

A/N: Please go easy on me this is the first time I'm writing smut for Din… sorry it got a bit well … you've seen the warnings….

Also I slightly changed one of the prompts because it sounded better. Just changed a word that's all :)

Dedicating this to my absolute angel of a beta @beldroxramscal ! Thank you for putting up with me!

If you enjoy this fic please reblog and tell me your thoughts! Reblogs keep writers writing :)

—--

Honestly, what had you been thinking? Time, place, person, all wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

All the Mandalorian had tried to do was shush your chattering, pressing his finger against your lips as he watched the bounty in the distance. And you, in all your wisdom, had decided to open your mouth and playfully bite down on a gloved finger.

His head had snapped around so quickly you're surprised he didn't injure himself. And you, you still had grinned at him, his finger trapped in your teeth, as your reflection in his helmet grinned back. What exactly was the reaction you were hoping for? Certainly not the one you got.

The long moment of silence that followed had made your grin falter, and you opened your mouth to release his finger. The Mandalorian had stepped away from you without a sound, going back to hunting his bounty in silence.

And he hadn't said a word to you since. He'd been silent, stoic, and well, stampy.

Even now you can hear his pacing footfalls ringing out against the metal hull of the ship. Each one seemed to ring out how stupid you were. The Mandalorian. Of all people to do that to, you just had to pick him.

Clunk. Stupid. Clunk. Stupid.

You had tried to go to him and apologise, but he was clearly avoiding you, and each time you tried to speak with him, he made excuses to busy himself somewhere away from you.

After everything, after working your way up to an easy friendship, after finally getting him to relax a little, you had to go and throw it all away because you couldn't help your childish behaviour; because you couldn't stop thinking about him in ways you really shouldn't.

You toss, kicking the covers off for the thousandth time since you went to bed, turning the pillow, punching it for good measure and trying to settle down to sleep.

But sleep isn't coming. And all you can hear is the clunk, clunk, clunk, of the pacing Mandalorian.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It's all you can hear and Maker, it's irritating. Can't he go and be mad away from your door, instead of reminding you with every step of your colossal fuck up.

With a growl of annoyance, you roll out of bed and slam your hand on the control panel to open the door, letting out a yelp of surprise when you're met with your shimmering reflection in the Mandalorian’s helmet.

You try to recover quickly, fixing him with a stern frown, trying not to glance down to fully take in the fact he's dressed only in his undershirt and pants.

"I-I can't sleep with you pacing up and down!"

"I didn't realise I was keeping you awake. I apologise." It's the most words the Mandalorian has spoken to you since you arrived back at the ship, and it softens your annoyance just a little. After all, this was your fault, and there was no point taking it out on him.

"It's okay. Did you need something?"

"No. I was just… walking past." Both the Mandalorians' hesitation, and the fact your room is the last on the ship with nowhere else to go, tell you that is a bare-faced lie.

You twist your hands nervously in front of you, trying to figure out what he could need from you in the middle of the night, and come up with only one thing.

"Did you want to talk about what happened earlier? Because I'm really so-"

"Open your mouth."

"rry-what?" You frown, watching as he slides off one glove, then the other, slowly.

"Open. Your. Mouth," he states again, his modulated voice dark. It's not a question, it's a command. It's how he speaks to his bounties. It should scare you, but it doesn't, he doesn't.

But even so, your breath catches, your heart hammers against your chest, and you feel a prickling heat creeping up the back of your neck. From desire or concern, you aren't sure.

The silence stretches out for a long moment, neither of you moving, before swallowing hard, you take a breath and open your mouth.

"Good girl."

Kriff. How hard your pussy clenches is almost painful.

Closing the distance between you the Mandalorian raises his hand and slips two thick fingers between your parted lips.

You don't wait for further instructions before you swirl your tongue around his digits, sucking hard before biting down softly, listening to the hitch in the Mandalorian’s breathing.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock."

The surprise at his words makes your eyes widen at first, but then a flood of heat follows, the mental image of you on your knees for him making you moan around his fingers.

"You like that Cyar'ika? You like thinking about my cock down your throat?"

His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, and he waits. He's actually waiting for you to answer.

You stare at your reflection for a moment before your eyes slide away, looking off across the ship, cheeks heating in embarrassment.

"I just like it when you talk dirty," you admit quietly, all too aware that out of the corner of your vision, you can see your saliva glistening on his fingers. Not that you minded the thought of taking him in your mouth either. But there was something deliciously naughty about the Mandalorian speaking filthy words.

"There's no going back if we do this." The Mandalorian states suddenly, changing topics faster than he shoots. "I won't let you go if this happens."

It's such a strange contrast from the tone he used just moments ago it throws you for a loop. Your brain scrambles to catch up with not only the change in pace, but his words.

At your lack of response the Mandalorian takes a deep modulated breath, his shoulders slump and he turns on his heel to walk away from you.

Panic scrambles up through your chest, making it tighten uncomfortably.

"Wait, Mando, wait," you beg, reaching out to catch his arm. Your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt, keeping him in place but he doesn't turn back to you.

"I don't want to go back," you admit, desperate for him to be close to you again. "I don't want there to be a going back."

The way he slowly turns to face you once more feels dangerous, intimidating.

"There's no going back for me now," you whisper as he steps close to you, crowding you back against the doorframe.

"No," he agrees, raising an arm above your head to lean over you, trapping you in place, as the other reaches up to cup your cheek, "there was never any going back."

Your dazed reflection blinks at you in silver and black as his thumb traces your lower lip. You have so many questions, but none of them seem right to ask now. You hope there will be time for them later, that what he says is true, and there is no going back, that there is only forward now.

"Close your eyes," the Mandalorian commands, "and keep them closed."

You do as he tells you without question, shutting your eyes tightly, accepting the inky black and burst of colour behind your eyelids.

At first, his thumb continues to trace your lips, pressing between them briefly to drag along your tongue before his touch disappears.

There's a hiss, a clunk, then absolute silence. All you are left with is the sound of your own heavy breathing.

As the silence stretches out you start to worry that perhaps this is some revenge, some power play to teach you to listen to instructions, to teach you a lesson for your earlier playfulness. Your eyes flicker, almost opening for a moment before -

"Don't."

You squeeze them shut once more, your breath catching in your throat, forgetting how to breathe as the unmodulated, crisp, deep voice warns you.

"Don't open your eyes." He reminds you again. "And breathe."

You're suddenly all too aware of the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. You take an embarrassingly gasped breath, sucking in all the air you can, desperately, as though you've been suffocating for hours.

"Slower," he instructs. You slow your breathing to a more normal pace, or as normal as you can manage given the sudden change in situation.

You can feel the heat from his body as he steps closer to you, forcing you to try and concentrate to keep your breathing steady. For all the times you've imagined this, him, you had not expected him to have quite the powerful effect on you that he does.

He cups your cheek again, his palm warm against your skin. His thumb traces your bottom lip slowly, and you feel him leaning into you, his breath fanning out across your lips.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" He asks.

You nod, not trusting your voice to waiver with thick desire.

He obliges without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours, gentler than you were expecting, as though testing the waters, expecting you to suddenly pull away and put an end to this.

Instead, you press yourself up against him, moulding your body to his, opening your mouth to press your tongue to the seam of his lips.

It's clear at that moment, he has been holding back, perhaps giving you the space to adjust in the turn of your relationship, but the moment your tongue presses against his lips, he snaps.

His arm slips around your waist, holding you tight against his chest as his tongue presses against yours, his kiss insistent and demanding.

Your hands tangle in his hair, exploring previously uncharted territory. As you tug the soft strands lightly the Mandalorian groans into your mouth, pulling back to bite sharply at your lip.

"I should have thrown you to the ground and let the bounty go," he growls passionately, pressing you hard against the doorframe, slotting his thigh between your legs, drawing a gasp from you as he presses it up against your core. "Is that what you wanted? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted me to fuck you then and there?"

It wasn't, not entirely. Well, maybe it might slightly have crossed your thoughts that in the heat of the moment, he might have done something. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that exact scenario had passed your thoughts more than once. So, maybe. Maybe you had wanted that.

"I wouldn't have minded if you had," you admit.

The Mandalorian hums, and without being able to see his face, it's impossible to tell if your answer gives him satisfaction or not. Either way, it doesn't seem to matter as his mouth crashes back into yours.

As his tongue dips once more between your lips and you can't help but cant your hips against his thigh, grinding down as his tongue licks into your mouth. It's like your body has a damn mind of its own and is hell-bent on finally getting the high you need from him.

You groan into his mouth, the friction against your aching core just feeling too damn good. The Mandalorian presses his thigh tighter against you as he pulls away, growling lowly against your lips.

"That's it, take what you need."

You don't hesitate. You grind yourself harder against him, aware of the wetness soaking your sleep shorts, and the stain you must be leaving on his pants. Your breath comes out in short gasps as you feel your body tighten, the coil of pleasure inside you winding tighter and tighter.

"Can you cum like this pretty girl?"

Could you? You're certainly pretty close, the material of your shorts dragging up against your clit in just the right way. His next words almost send you hurtling over the edge.

"Then after I'll make you cum on my cock?"

You whine. Any other time you would have been embarrassed by the noise that escapes, but there's no room for that here. There is only you and the Mandalorian, who is making your body sing in ways nobody else has.

"Let go. Let me see you cum for me." It sounds almost like a beg, but you know it isn't, it's a command. You have to cum for him.

Your body reacts before your brain has caught up. You tremble, crying out as the wave of pleasure takes over, the coil snapping, throwing you high in your climax as you ride it out against his leg, shameless in your pleasure.

You barely have time to come down before the Mandalorian removes his leg, and suddenly pulls away from you.

"Bed," he orders roughly.

For a split second, you go to open your eyes, acting on pure instinct to look where you are going, before he stops you a second time. "I'll guide you."

He takes your waist, and slowly walks you backwards, step by step. You have no choice but to trust him and follow, your legs still trembling from your orgasm.

As he pushes you down, you sit tentatively, reaching out your hands to feel for the edges of the bed, slowly backing up onto it. You feel the thin mattress sink with the Mandalorian’s weight as he joins you.

He takes your chin in his fingers and turns your face towards him before he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

"Do you want this?" He asks softly, keeping your face turned to him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Maker, you absolutely were not going to survive the night if he keeps asking these types of questions. Your pussy clenches in anticipation.

"Yes." You manage to pant out.

He wastes no time in undressing you, practically tearing your shirt over your head before guiding you to lie down. You move your hands to remove your shorts but he stops you, pushing them down onto the mattress and hooking his fingers into the elastic, sliding your shorts down slowly, exposing you fully to his gaze. There's a hitch in his breathing and wish you were able to see him, take in his expression, watch him lick his lips as he surveys you.

Instead, you have to make do with your imagination.

You jump involuntarily as his hands suddenly grip your thighs, sliding his palms up your skin until his fingers rest just below your throbbing core, spreading your legs wide.

"You are soaked for me, pretty thing."

There're no words coming that you can answer him with, just the gasped breaths and the lift of your hips to encourage him to touch you.

He tuts at your actions with a sigh.

"Next time, we will work on you using your words to ask for what you want."

Next time? There was already going to be a next time? You almost forget to breathe again, but at that exact moment, the Mandalorian runs two calloused fingers through your wet heat, making you suddenly suck in a gasp of air, your hips arching towards his touch, even though you are still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.

He slips a thick finger into your wet heat, drawing a soft mewl of pleasure from your throat. The Mandalorian hums in appreciation of the noise, pressing a second finger to join the first, twisting and curling them as he stretches you open, filling you better than your own hands can.

"So fucking pretty," he praises as he thrusts his fingers, your soaked pussy making an embarrassingly lewd sound.

Suddenly and without warning his fingers leave you, and for a moment there is silence before the Mandalorian lets out a broken groan.

"You taste divine."

Heat spreads across your cheeks, prickling at your skin when you realise he must have tasted you from his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, fisting the covers as your body shudders in desperation. You can't wait any longer. You've waited long enough to be here with him.

"Fuck me, Mando," you burst out, taking his words to heart, that you should ask for what you need.

The Mandalorian lets out a dark chuckle before you hear the whisper of fabric, the soft flump of clothes hitting the floor, and then his weight is over you, pressing you down into the mattress, his thick cock pressing up against your core.

"You can call me Din, when we are alone."

Din. The name rings in your ears. Din. You don't know what this means, that he's given you his name, but something aches in your chest at the trust. There really was no going back now.

"Please, Din. I need you. I want you."

He groans as his name passes your lips for the first time, his cock rutting up against your wet folds, soaking himself in your slick.

"Good girl, finally asking for what she wants."

Lining himself up at your entrance he presses into you slowly, inch by inch, allowing you to adjust as he stretches your walls. Every feeling is heightened without your vision — his weight over you, his arms caging you in, the fullness of his cock as he bottoms out, splitting you open, the wet squelch of your pussy, the way his whisper sounds like a yell as he leans down.

"I've thought about you like this so much. Filling you," he delivers a devastating thrust that tears a moan from your throat before you can stop it. "Made myself cum so many times thinking about how you'd taste. How good you would be, all pretty spread out for me." Another hard, slow thrust. "How you'd cum on my tongue over and over until you can't take anymore. And then I'd fuck you, slowly."

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, desperate for him to stop talking before you cum too quickly, or maybe to keep talking, you aren't sure. All you know is nothing could turn you on more than the thought of him, cock in fist, whining your name as he thought about eating your pussy.

"Please," you whine helplessly as he rolls his hips deep and slow, pressing up against that one spot that makes you see stars.

"This is mine now. You are mine now," he growls, continuing his leisurely pace.

"Yours. Only yours. Always yours," you agree with a helpless nod, arching your back, pressing yourself against him, taking everything he offers.

Except it isn't enough. The unhurried thrusts press against all the right spots, but it's only enough to leave you frustratingly close to oblivion, but never enough to throw you into the abyss.

"Din, I need…i-i…n-uhh," you cut off into a moan as he delivers another deep thrust.

"I know Cyar'ika," he groans, pausing deep inside you to capture your lips in a messy kiss that's all tongue and teeth. You're not sure if the entire lack of movement is somehow worse.

When the Mandalorian finally pulls away he growls in your ear, a noise that makes your pussy clench around his cock.

"I'd find something to hold onto if I was you."

He pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you, before he thrusts back in, setting a hard fast pace that has you cambering for purchase on the bed. Your fingers curl around the edge of the mattress, trying to hold yourself in place as each hard thrust pushes you further up the small cot.

It's too much. When you think you can't possibly get any fuller, he somehow finds a way to thrust deeper, making your eyes roll behind your closed eyelids.

The pleasure at the pace and depth is more than you've ever experienced. It verges somewhere between pain and rapture. It's consuming, drowning, it's everything you need.

You all but scream his name as you finally cum, your body taunt and trembling beneath him, aching fingers gripping the bed for life. Your blood pulses in your ears, white explodes behind your eyelids, it's impossible to get enough air into your lungs.

You might black out for a moment, because when you finally come back to yourself, limbs heavy and shaky, Din is whispering soft praises in your ear.

"So good for me. Taking me so well. Pretty little pussy so good," he slurs, pressing deeper into you as you bury your whines against his neck, trembling with overstimulation. His thrusts are sloppy and mistimed as he rambles in your ear, whispering filth and praises, before he suddenly pulls out of you, letting out a long groan of relief as he splatters your stomach with hot bursts of cum.

For a long moment afterwards, there is only the sound of heavy breathing between you, then his lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

It's gentle and slow, it's more than just a kiss between lovers, it's a promise, but for what, you aren't quite sure yet.

"Stay here," he instructs gently. This time it actually sounds like a request.

The mattress moves and creaks as the Mandalorian gets up, leaving you alone, sweat drenched and covered in cum. It isn't exactly how you pictured your night ending, but you certainly aren't complaining.

Just as you are starting to get anxious that he's been gone so long, you hear soft footfalls and the bed sinks again.

"I'm going to clean you up," he informs you, before a warm wet towel swipes across your stomach, cleaning up the traces of his climax, before he moves down, to clean your slick from your thighs. You're thankful he doesn't make a meal of cleaning your sensitive cunt, clearly taking note of the way you hiss in overstimulation when he swipes the cloth over your folds.

When he's done he settles himself next to you in the small cot, pulling you to lay on your side, his arm thrown casually over your waist, keeping you close.

"So," you speak quietly, not wanting to disturb the stillness that has settled around you, "you weren't mad about the whole finger bite?"

The Mandalorian chuckles, a genuine amused laugh, that makes your chest ache with affection. You want to make him laugh again. You want to make him laugh every day.

"No, Cyar'ika," he sighs, "I wasn't mad. Just frustrated."

"With me?"

"With myself," the Mandalorian answers quickly, his fingers softly tracing your skin. Since he doesn't elaborate, you decide not to ask anything further. Maybe one day you can both explain how this took so long, but this isn't the time.

"What does Cyar'ika mean?" You question, changing the subject, and if you were honest, using talking as an excuse to keep him in your bed a while longer.

"It's a term of affection. An approximation of darling I suppose. But I can call you something else if you prefer?"

"No," you shake your head passionately. "I like Cyar'ika."

"Good," he answers simply. "Now if you are done with your questions, open your eyes."

It takes a moment for his request to sink in and for the first time, you don't comply.

"B-but-"

"Open your eyes," he cuts in quietly, a hand wrapping around your thigh, pulling your legs open as he shifts between them once more, pressing you to lay back against the mattress. "I want to taste you, and this time, I want to see those pretty eyes when I make you scream."

Your heart jumps, your mouth is dry, your thighs tremble.

You open your eyes.

—-----------

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please take the time to reblog and let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from readers more than anything!

[specialagentlokitty]

Thorin x reader - same secrets

thorin with reader who has been hiding an injury from him and he notices reader's lack of sleep and when he goes to confront reader he realises that reader has been injured - Anon💜

You were nearly running out of supplies to keep your wound cleaned and healing and you didn’t know what else to do.

You couldn’t do anything, you couldn’t ask anyone for help, no one could know.

Especially not Thorin.

Sitting against the cool stone of the cave, you sighed to yourself as you stared out the entrance, admiring the moon and what stars that you could see.

Everyone else was asleep, aside from Thorin, who was on watch that night, but he was on the other side of the cave.

When he looked over you pretended that you were sleeping and after a few minutes you peaked an eye open to see if he had brought it.

He wasn’t there so you assumed he had, but when you opened your eyes you found him walking over towards you, creeping over everyone else until he was in front of you and he sat down.

“My dear, why are you awake?” He asked quietly.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” You smiled softly.

Thorin frowned.

He looked at you and he could see how tired you were, the dark circles under your eyes, how you would try hide your yawns when you thought people were looking.

When you thought he was sleeping next to you he would notice how you would shuffle away from him and go sit on your own.

“Please you haven’t slept for a long time now, what is bothering you?”

Thorin looked at you, holding his hands out he waited for you to place yours in his.

When you did he noticed that your skin was slightly cool to the touch, and even in the dim light of the fire you looked slightly pale.

“What’s really going on?” He asked softly.

You shook your head and smiled him a little again, taking his hands in yours you brought them up and kissed the backs of his hands.

“Nothing my love.”

“Then will you sleep? I will stay right by your side.”

You nodded your head and held in your groan in as you shuffled down.

Thorin sat next to you, resting his back against the cave wall as he let you rest your head in his lap.

He ran his fingers through your hair, smiling down at you as you looked at him, taking his free hand, holding it against your chest.

“Sleep dear…” he whispered.

It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep, he felt your hand relax against his but still holding it, your breath evening out.

He kept a close eye out for anything that could pose a threat, but he also kept a close eye on you.

Putting small braids in your hair, but when you started to move he stopped and raised his hands.

You moved a little more before you stopped, blanket falling down and Thorin laughed a little, reaching down he went to grab your blanket but he stopped.

Your shirt had rose slightly, and as much as he wanted to look away something made him stop.

He reached over and gently pulled your shirt up a little more, showing a bloodied bandage and he gasped softly.

“My dear… why didn’t you say anything…?”

Thorin wanted to wake you up and ask but you were finally sleeping so he decided against it.

Instead he grabbed his bag and pulled his own medical supplies out and changed your dressing slowly and gently trying his best not to wake you.

Once he was done he put everything away and pulled your shirt down, covering your back up.

It must have been an hour later when Dwalin woke up and nodded his head.

“Get some rest.”

“Thank you friend.”

Thorin grabbed his blanket and tossed it half over you, half over himself and laid down, using his bag as a pillow.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and buried his nose in your neck, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent before falling asleep.

You woke up to Thorin holding you tightly against him, and you smiled as you laid there, head on his chest.

You never told Thorin you were injured, and he never told you that when you were sleeping he would tend to your wound until it was fully healed.

You were finally sleeping right, and every morning you woke up in his arms and that was enough for the both of you

[solarmorrigan]

💙 for the prompt game?

Hello! Thank you for the prompt! I'm sorry it took a bit to get to, but if you're still around I hope you get to see this!

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

Prompt from this post

CW: alcohol use

-

Steve is, Eddie has learned, an impressionable drunk.

This means that in his days of house parties and post-sportsball revels and bonfires out by the lake, or whatever else it is that the popular kids had done, when he was surrounded by drunk teenage shitheads, he also tended to act like a drunk teenage shithead. It had reportedly been pretty damn easy to talk him into following through with dumb dares, and everyone at those parties had lived for the moment someone would hear Harrington say, “Hold my beer.”

Now, though, when he only tends to drink around good friends, around safe people he can trust, where the atmosphere is mellow and soft–

“Oof.” A breath of air rushes out of Eddie as Steve tosses himself into his lap without warning, nearly toppling Eddie’s own drink as he cuddles up against his chest and presses a soft kiss into the crook of his neck.

–now, he mostly just acts like an overlarge, deeply affectionate housecat.

“Hey,” Steve says, laying another quick kiss at the side of Eddie’s neck before pulling back to smile at him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright enough to suggest he’s just a bit past tipsy now. “I have something to tell you.”

“Was it possibly a warning about how you were about to try to crush me to death?” Eddie asks drily, setting his drink on the end table by the couch, where it will be safer.

Steve frowns for a moment, as if he’s really thinking about it. “No,” he decides. “But it’s important.”

“Is it?” Eddie asks, not even bothering to keep the smile off his own face.

“Yeah.” Steve nods. He sits up as fully as he can while still draped sideways across Eddie’s lap, then crooks his finger at Eddie in a silly little come-hither gesture. “C’mere.”

Obligingly, Eddie leans in.

Steve shakes his head. “Closer.”

Eddie leans so close that there’s barely a handful of inches between their faces.

“Liiiittle closer,” Steve murmurs, hooking his finger in the collar of Eddie’s t-shirt and tugging.

Eddie is close enough now that he can feel the puff of Steve’s breath against his face, but before he can ask just what’s so secret that Steve has to tell him at this distance, Steve cups his free hand under Eddie’s jaw and pulls him in, kissing him soft and full on the lips.

“Hi,” Steve says, pulling away after a few moments, just far enough that Eddie can see his ridiculous, smitten smile.

Eddie knows he’s probably mirroring it.

“Hi,” he says. “Was that what you wanted to tell me?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head again, and leans forward to give Eddie another kiss. “I love you,” he says, this time with his lips still brushing Eddie’s. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Eddie can’t help it. He laughs, bright and clear, before curling an arm around Steve’s waist and pulling him in more tightly, offering him a kiss of his own. “Love you, too, sweetheart.”

[alwaysonf1]

beauty and brains?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

Though the game the night before had them arriving at their hotels late production had them up at what felt like the ass crack of dawn.

Charles fought for his life to wake up and was happy he’d thought through pre-ordering room service because it arrived not long after his shower. He ate his food in silence, sleep still clinging to him and the coffee they sent not doing much to help bring him back to life. A late night didn’t usually do this to him, but he thought maybe despite his early arrival to Louisiana the jet lag may still have gotten to him.

He tosses the covering for his breakfast back onto the plate and sits back on the couch. His phone vibrates and though he’s half asleep and wanting to stay that way he picks it up, barely noticing it’s a call before he puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Hello?” Daniel mimics. “Open your door.”

If Charles had it in him, he’d roll his eyes, but he hangs up and pulls himself off the couch with a groan. He undoes the locks and the door swings open, nearly knocking him over as the three men walk into his room like it’s their own space.

Daniel takes his spot on the couch while Carlos and Alex take the other two. Charles gives them all a look, but besides Alex, who looks sheepish, they look as if they’ve done nothing wrong at all. It’s a losing battle, so he sighs and plops down into the love seat perpendicular to the couch.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Carlos shrugs. “We were up and restless, thought we’d come here and wake you up if you weren’t.”

“Well, I’m awake.”

“And we’re bored,” Alex says.

A second eye roll in what has been less than two minutes. He enjoys spending time with these guys, more so with how much closer they’ve become due to filming. But they were also annoying in the way friends could be.

“You cannot entertain yourselves?”

“We can, but we were talking, and we know you’re still as mind blown by this as the rest of us. Who knew Lewis had a secret sibling,” Daniel says.

Carlos nods. “And that she’s American.”

All of them nod in agreement, because even if that isn’t at the forefront of Charles’ mind it is something that they couldn’t have seen coming. They got to speak to her a little after the game before she was whisked off elsewhere and her accent threw him off. It wasn’t the one you default to for Americans, but it was clear that it belonged to some section of this country. Her mother’s was the same, which is why it was a little silly that they weren’t prepared to hear it come out of her.

To be fair to them there was a lot to keep up with this.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t have been a shock. But hey, there was a lot going on. That dancing though, it’s like things I’ve seen before, but not. Ya know? I asked Lewis and he said they’re called majorettes. I looked it up last night and it’s almost always this good. Especially since little Hamilton became captain, people sing her praises. There’s one that has millions of views on twitter alone. I’ll send it later.”

The others speak amongst themselves, and Charles feels his mind wander off. He thinks about how confusing and brilliant last night was. Every part of it. He’d never watched American football on a college level, and it was as entertaining as at a professional level. Then the band was in peak form. It got his brain working on music again in a way it hadn’t in a while. And of course, the dancing. If that was what the majorettes had to offer, then he was eager to see what else they had going on. 

“I’m a little surprised that’s how they decided to let us meet her. Lewis seems to be the protective type and that could have gone either way,” Carlos says.

“He trusts us not to be weirdos, even if he didn’t, we wouldn’t have been stupid enough to say anything on camera for everyone to see. You know F1 will put out anything, even if they have to apologize for it later,” Charles says.

Daniel snatches a bottle of water from the table and nods. “Plus, I’ve seen that man win multiple championships and I have never seen him prouder and happier than that. He clearly supports her and would want to showcase her talent.”

“True, but I wonder what that means for today. I’m guessing it’ll be something school related. If they have me do school work under pressure,” Alex says.

“Like Carlos when he forgot that he should be able to drive an F2 car.”

“Hey!”

They all descend into laughter, while Carlos glares at them, arms crossed, and eyes clearly showing he’s not here. Probably imagining how he panicked himself so much it was like someone asked him to drive Nascar.

A knock on the door puts a stop to the laughter and without a word they all gather their stuff and head toward it. Their main producer, Anne, is there and she looks worried. Then she notices the number of people and Charles watches her relax.

“Time to load into the van, everyone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel says.

They head out of the room, and with the weird speed of the elevator, are in the lobby in less than a minute. Lewis and Lance are huddled together laughing and some of the production crew linger around talking in groups. When everyone sees them, they head out to the vans awaiting them. 

When they get in Daniel and Lewis take the first row of seats while Alex takes the front and the other three in the back. The moment the seat belts click the cars are moving and Charles watches Daniel lean over to Lewis with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Any clues?”

Lewis looks contemplative and then he laughs.

“Hm… prepare to feel dumb.”

Daniel laughs. “So regular day at work?”

“You have no idea.”

From there it’s silence, but the kind where you can tell everyone is still a little tired. All their starter energy exerted, so now they need a moment.

It’s being tired and wanting to prepare himself for Charles. He went in yesterday with so little and he knows it showed, but he wants it to be a little different this time. There can be shock, but he doesn’t want to seem like anything they do and what she’s there to show them is something he didn’t expect of her. He’d hate to seem like he has any preconceived ideas of who she is. People who don’t like him would latch onto that and misinterpret, and there’s a possibility Lewis might too, but mostly he doesn’t want to offend. 

After twenty minutes of mindless scrolling, they pull up to a building. From their surroundings it’s clear that this isn’t where they should park, but it’s clearly been made so that if one needs to it can. 

Everyone piles out of the vehicle. And despite being the one who should get up first of the three, his friends are children who push him down and get out before him. Charles is on his third eye roll of the morning and the last to get out. And just as he does Iman emerges from the building and stands at the top of the steps with a smile. Today she’s in utility pants and a shirt that has a familiar emblem on it. 

“You're late,” she shouts.

“You told me eight, it's seven forty-five,” Lewis yells back.

“True, but I’ve had a man in here squealing about meeting a seven time champion and multiple F1 drivers. Have mercy on a girl who was forced to take an eight a.m. in her last semester will you?”

Everyone laughs at that, and they walk up the stairs toward her. She waits and then turns toward the building, but she pauses and turns around to face them.

“Where are my manners?” she asks, then points at Lewis, “And yours.”

“What did I do?”

She rolls her eyes and turns toward the other five drivers with a smile that makes Charles give her one of his. 

“I know all of you know my name and I yours, plus we kind of met last night, but let me properly introduce myself. I’m Iman Hamilton, little sister of this dweeb, captain of the SU Dancing Dolls, and a college student on her last semester close to losing her mind.”

She steps toward Carlos, hand out, and she shakes his. He gives a small greeting, and she goes down the line to each of them doing that. As Charles takes her hand, he notes her hands are soft, but the shake is firm.

“I’m Charles, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

“You as well.”

She also greets all the staff individually and then retakes her position in front of the door.

“Are y’all prepared for the horrors and wonders of an eight a.m. hands on class?” Her voice is fake cheery, and it makes Charles and Daniel laugh.

“Speaking of what would this class be?”

Iman throws her head back and laughs, then glances toward Lewis. “He is smooth.”

“Don’t let him get you.”

“Ooh, they talked about me,” Daniel jokes.

That sends laughter through everyone, and it lifts a weight that Charles didn’t realize was there. He was a little nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. But at least he could feel with the shift in everyone that it was a mutual feeling.

Without another word Iman turns and pulls the door open. Charles ensures he’s in after Lewis and catches a glimpse of someone rocketing back into a classroom. It must be the man that Iman was talking about. The excitement is flattering.

As they walk down everyone, especially the cameras, take in the space. There are pictures and many didn’t contraptions lining the walls. Probably as a representation of what goes on in this building. There was a sign on top of it, but it was too high to see where they parked. So, Charles looks up at the wall at the end of the hall and there he sees: School of Mechanical Engineering.

His eyes go wide unintentionally, but he reins it in and nudges Carlos. It takes a moment before the Spaniard sees what he does, and his reaction is very much the same. The others have already seen the sign and they look from the sign to the woman leading them and back. 

The smile that forms on Charles’ face reflects the pride he feels. Of course, he knows what it’s like to be happy and proud of his siblings' success in their fields, but in that moment, he understands why Lewis feels it. He understood last night, but when his mechanics and friends spoke about how engineering as a degree takes a lot out of you, he was sure. They spoke of sometimes struggling with it and normal life, so he couldn’t imagine an extracurricular that was probably as consuming.

The feeling dumb was definitely already starting.

When they reach the door to her class it’s wide open and in the center of the only space without tables stands a man old enough to be a teacher and students in similar clothing to Iman. Most seem giddy, some seem mildly interested, and there are one or two that look like they don’t care at all. Good for the ego.

Iman leads them to the center, standing directly across from her class and the drivers so she’s facing neither. Her hands go wide, gesturing to either group.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet drivers currently a part of the F1 grid. F1 drivers, welcome to Advanced Internal Combustion Engines. We’ll be here for three hours, so I’ll leave the more personal introductions to you.”

She pauses and there’s a chorus of greetings that come from both sides. Charles watches as her lips part to presumably say something else, but then the man who is obviously the instructor takes center stage with a giddy smile. It’s a little amusing, but mostly nice to see him so excited about this. Worry about how roping siblings in this would disrupt their lives, even for a short time, has been a thing since the beginning. Especially when they may not have people to work for or with that would love this kind of thing.

“It’s nice to meet all of you. My name is Dr. Malcolm Johsnon. I’m a big enjoyer of F1 and racing in general, just as many of the students in this class are. My industry background is predominantly in IndyCar, which is why this class focuses a lot on the types of engines used in those kinds of race vehicles. Today as much as you’ll be getting a peak at Iman’s life, you’ll see what the students learn here and a glimpse at the parts that make your cars go. I’m open to any questions you might have at any time. 

Alex raises his hand. “Oh, if you worked or work for IndyCar, how did you end up teaching? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He hitches a thumb in Iman’s direction, “Her mother can be very persuasive. She’d also taken a stint teaching as a break from working with IndyCar teams, so she had much to rave about. Plus, she wanted me here to make sure they taught her child right.”

That earns a few laughs, but Charles sees the odd look from a few students who are displeased but already knew this knowledge. Though it doesn’t feel like they’re displeased with their instructor, just Iman. An expected response to someone who uses the connections she has or in this case the connection just stepped in for her.

Which makes Charles pause. Wait, did he say Sherri?

“Your mother works in IndyCar?” he asks, his eyes on Iman.

“Has since before I was born. Racing is a family affair. Though more of us are on the engineering side than in the driver seat.”

When she says it, a fist extends out toward her from the corner of Charles’ eye and she bumps her fist against Lewis, smiling wide and winking at her older brother.

“But enough of that, though we’ve all agreed to this we still have a project to work on. And surprisingly multiple three hour classes aren’t enough time.”

There are several mutters in agreement and with that students disperse to the tables scattered throughout the massive room. Iman goes to one in the back with three other people. They get to work without a word and production and Dr. Johnson step closer to the drivers, forming a circle.

“Our focus is Iman and her life and what she does, but we don’t want all of you to just crowd her. As much as we want shots of what she’s doing and your interaction, we want this to be a learning experience just like the other times were. Engage with the other students without crossing any boundaries and maybe even see if any of that knowledge you get from your own mechanics is familiar here, okay? We’ll move you guys if we feel you linger here or there too long, but just go where you feel pulled. Also, there are some students who have little flags attached to their tables to signal they are most comfortable with questions, so look out for those but don’t shy away too much from the others. Got it?” Anne asks.

Everyone nods. She then gestures for Dr. Johnson to take the floor.

“And things get a little hectic, so over there is some PPE for y’all to use. I want this to be safe for them and for you. Cool?”

“Yes, sir,” Lewis says, and identical sentiments follow.

“Then let’s get started!”

Lewis is the first to break off and head toward the table. He grabs the goggles, a dingy rag, some sort of apron, and a pair of gloves and then makes a beeline for Iman’s table. Lance follows suit and that makes the first decision for everyone else. Charles sticks with Carlos as they grab their PPE and then head toward the closest table. There is a flag over it, but neither of the men say anything. They watch as one of the students takes apart their engine. It looks around the size of the ones inside of their cars, but something is different about it. Something off.

“Wait, did you grab the wrong piece?” A man, whose shirt has the name Stephen on it, asks.

Everyone pauses and looks to him and then to the engine.

“Uh, I don’t think s… Oh for fuck’s sake,” says the woman, Jennifer.

The curse is said so softly that almost all of them have to stop themselves from laughing, Charles has to cover his mouth and Carlos turns away, but you can see his body vibrating with silent laughter. Jennifer catches all of them and glares before walking off toward what looks like a storage space at the back of the room.

When shes out of sight they all laugh out loud. It takes a minute to pull it together, but they manage it.

Stephen turns to Charles. “You noticed it too? I saw you looking at it weird.”

This isn’t really his wheelhouse, so Charles feels himself get a little unsure of how to answer, but he reminds himself that these are students, and they expect some sort of failure when learning so even if he sounded silly it wasn’t like they’d look at him too harshly. At least he hopes.

“Um, yes. It looks like the one we use, I’ve seen it a few times and though it may not be the same, something about it didn’t seem right. Though I’m not fully sure what.”

Stephen nods.

“It’s definitely something that would stand out if you’ve seen them enough. It’s why she’s mad, she’ll usually catch it when we do it. But if ya want we can walk y’all through it. This is just us kind of playing around with ideas at this point, so we have the time.”

Charles finds himself excited again and he takes a few steps closer to the table.

“We’d love that. It’ll impress and confuse our mechanics if we come back knowing more than we did before,” Carlos says.

All the others introduce themselves and when Jennifer returns, they dive deep into what they’re trying to do. Though they only planned to half take it apart they disassemble it completely and get Carlos and Charles in on putting it back together. How they explain it is half dumbed down and half with the understanding that the pilots would have some knowledge of what they’re doing. Though everyone else has rotated, an hour passes before a producer pulls them away from the table. It’s with a little grumbling from both of them, but they get why.

The rest of their adventure is much the same, though for shorter bursts. Even the tables without the flags are more than open to answering questions they may have and as time goes by Charles realizes that with each table, he’s able to understand what the hell they’re talking about. And it makes him think back to all the times he’s been confused listening to his mechanics about a million things. It’s all clicking for him.

“Hey Sharl!” 

The voice startles him, and he turns toward it to see Lewis back at his sister’s table. The man is waving him over so Charles excuses himself and walks over. Daniel is making the table he’s at laugh at something and it’s probably some off the wall joke that sometimes has Charles looking at him like he’s lost it.

“Hi,” he says once he reaches the table.

“Hey. Saw you haven’t been here yet,” Lewis says.

“It was the next stop.”

“Mhm.” When Lewis says that there’s a look in his eyes that Charles can’t quite decipher so he doesn’t try to. He’s used to him keeping things a little close to the chest.

“Are you harassing that poor man, Lew?” Iman asks, without looking up.

“I’m not doing anything?” 

“Mhm, sure you’re not.”

“I’m not! Tell her I’m not harassing you, Sharl.”

Charles finds himself laughing at the two. It’s like something he and his brother’s would do. High pitched voice while defending themselves and all.

“He’s not harassing me. I promise,” he says.

Iman finally looks up, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

“You sure you’re not just taking up for him, Charles? He’s not that big and bad, I promise.”

“I’m sure.”

“Let me know if he does, I’ll deal with him.” 

She winks at Charles and then gets back to her work, explaining why she felt the need to lubricate a piece more than is usually called for. Her partners look unsure, but they go with it. As she does it, she explains out loud what it should do to the two pilots and Charles is having a hard time splitting between Lewis’ pouting - which is losing steam by the second - what she’s explaining and watching her. She’s so focused and even when the piece gives her problems she keeps going, barely getting frustrated. 

And when she works, her smile is genuine and bright. 

[sagesskies]

just played Binary Star Hero, loved it, amazing, chefs kiss, Hals can take my heart and soul. Love them sooo much.

And an idea just struck me: Awkward Yandere Hero who is also your ex, meanwhile you're the guy who manages his tech.

The guys running the agency wanted him to be presented as the perfect, ideal man, and in this heteronormative world, the ideal man was straight, so they had him start dating another superhero. You got that, you could handle that, but what pissed you off was that he couldn't at least fight for your relationship when the higher-ups wanted him breaking up with you.

so you take the initiative, and don't let him keep beating around the bush, and break things off first. Good riddance honestly, what need do you have of a man who wasn't even willing to fight for you?

You keep working for the same agency, managing their tech, fixing it up after any errors, making sure everything runs in tip, top shape. But you refuse to do anything for him, no. They can get somebody else to do that.

everytime you two speak, it's always tense. him, the 'strong' 'virile' and 'masculine' hero practically cowering before you, the glorified tech support.

"Uh, h-hey [Name]!"

"... Helios."

"How... how are you?"

"I'm fine. What do you want?"

"Uh. To talk?"

"... Leave."

"I just want to chat-"

"Now."

"Okay. Goodbye. Take care. Love you- I mean, uhhhh, t-take care- Wait shit I already said that- Uh. Uh. Bye!"

Your colleagues tell you to pity him more, he had no choice you know? The agency paid his bills, they gave him a job, they were the reason why he wasn't taken to the government testing labs and made a labrat like all the other non-hero superpowered humans. So he was in no position to say no to their demands.

So were you supposed to pity him? To constantly let him do whatever he wanted? Let him miss all the dates, the dinners, to focus more on work than your relationship? Were you supposed to pity him when he didn't bother to explain himself when pictures were released of him going into a hotel room with some model? To let it slide without a single explanation?

You have too much respect for yourself.

When you try to hit the dating scene again, to be able to fully solidify that you are truly moving on from your ex... but for some reason, said ex always ruins everything?!

every single place you take your dates, it's suddenly infested with your ex's fanclub as hundreds of people all clamor around, disrupting others as they all try to at least look at the famed hero Helios who was reported to have been sighted, just your luck, in your general area!

and not to mention, what happens when he decides to approach you in public, while your on a date, and the other guy just so happens to be a big fan of his and all of a sudden you're just tossed aside as your date gets his fucking forehead signed by your ex.

and still, still, he has the audacity to try to strike up a conversation with you.

"Hey, [Name]!" Helios- No, Hollis, greets you cheerfully.

You don't bother to respond, focusing on fixing the dents in Liquid Steel's metal suit. Slamming the hammer down on the outward dents, grunting when you accidentally move the dent inward and use the dolly to fix it.

Hollis, hesitantly, comes closer to you. Despite the fact that you were holding a hammer, he wasn't afraid. You know that he's sturdy and durable, more than other supers, but he is still flesh and bone. If you caught him off guard...

"So, uh, since the other mechanics are a bit busy... I was wondering, could you-"

"I won't, Helios," You glare at him, "Just wait for one of them to come back or something."

Hollis chuckles awkwardly, "Ah, well, I'll actually be needing it fixed soon," His eyes wander around your workspace, before going back to focus on you, eyes a brilliant gold, "I'm... gonna be sent on a mission."

You recall when he'd miss your anniversary dinner, and told you he had to be called out for an emergency extraction. He was fidgeting the entire time, hand rubbing at his neck where you saw lipstick stains that he was doing a shit job at hiding.

Looking at him now, you can tell he's lying the same way he was back then. But for different reasons now.

"No." You say with finality.

"But-"

You drop your hammer, and grab him by the collar of his shirt. Pulling him closer till your foreheads were pressed against each other. His eyes widen, and he gulps.

"I said no," You snarled, spit flying against his face, "Why can't you fucking get that into your thick skull, hm?"

Your hands grasp tighter onto the fabric of his shirt, nearly tearing it off, "You've been a right fucking creep, yknow?" You give him a cruel, crooked grin, "I know what you're doing- You've been fucking stalking me, haven't you?"

"[Name], I-"

Maybe it's the stress from work, the breakup, the failed dates, Hollis himself, his mere presence being enough to tip you over the edge. Whatever it is, you snap.

"Shut up!" You scream at Hollis, "I hate you- I hate you so, so, so much!"

More than you hated Hollis, you hated the situation. It's more than just sabotaging your love life, and always bothering you with his awkward small talk, you wished he started trying before you ended it. You wished it didn't take you leaving for him to beg for you to come back.

You feel like the gear that you're in charge of fixing. Some heroes take care of theirs like it's their baby, always careful, but never getting enough work done because of it. Some are able to tolerate it getting damaged, and do their duty. But some? Some are willing to let it suffer intense damage, nearly become irreparable, all for the sake of their job.

Hollis is like that, you think. He let your relationship decay, rot, and fester, till it became nothing more than a shell of what it used to be. But you were too tired to fix it. Why bother anyway? You were old news, software that needed to be updated. So like any person with common sense, Hollis got an update.

Your face grows warm, you think it is from the shame for your outburst, before you realize it is also wet, and that you are actually crying. You don't want to, but you slump against his chest, and bury your face into the warmth of his shirt.

You beat weakly at his chests, "I hate you... I hate you Hollis." You sob.

Hollis shifts, you think he's about to pry you off, but then you sense a familiar presence over your back, and then a hesitant, but comforting hand is rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"It's... It's okay [Name]," His voice is shaky, and you think he's crying too, "No matter how much you hate me, I'll always love you."

[everythingne]

KINTSUGI - AKIN TO A PRIDE VERSE - MV1

When brought to panic by ruthless reporters, Reina snaps and hits a reporter out of instinct. In desperation, Hana flies Max to London help her daughter out of a depressive episode caused by Reina thinking that she's more like her father than she ever wants to be. And Max realizes some things about who you call family.

warnings: reporters grabbing reina, mentioned rumors of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse and past/current broken metacarpal (hand) bones (wow look at me being sciency?), many assumptions about max's childhood, reina has a whole break down, reminder this isn’t a romance series, also btw I changed reina's age to make her 20 (legit go back and look LOL) and that totally isn't something for silly foreshadowing purposes no no, my comeback after going to college LMAO

I'M FUCKING SCREWED. I'm so fucking screwed. I can feel the anxiety coursing through my arms as I stand there, my teammates off to my side as we try and fight through the media pen. We weren't even supposed to be here but Ollie Bearman had decided he was bored and dragged me and Kimi Antonelli along to see some other drivers by wandering along the pit lane. We were all pretty civil with one another, save for one or two weird rivalries here or there, so we were quick to amass a group that eventually Trident broke up when they needed Richard back.

And then media had shown up, and we'd gotten quickly swarmed with no real way out.

Luckily, Kimi had called someone from the paddock to come get us and help us out so as we slowly pushed through the crowd as politely as possible, someone was actively coming to us.

And then I had gotten split off.

"Ollie!" I shouted, trying to grab his attention, but my voice is lost among those of the reporters who chase after him. How theres so many reporters here, I have no idea. It's not normal. And then again, nothing about this season really was normal because of the whole siblings thing.

"Miss Matsumoto!" someone shouts and a camera is shoved in my face, I try to keep a calm composure, nodding sharply in greeting as I try to continue through the crowd, "How are you feeling about your race tonight?"

"I think I'll be alright," I nod, pulling the rim of my hat down a bit further, "My team has grown a bit with Max's personal trainer giving us some tips for my physical training and it's been really interesting seeing how just changing my diet and training has made drive different."

"How is your relationship with Max?" Someone else shouts and a smile happily crosses my face, okay, I can do this. Just keep talking and just keep pushing forward. Do what Max taught you.

"He's been incredible, a lot kinder than people give him credit for." I make sure to point that out as I walk. A few more questions about Max are tossed my way, what exactly he's been teaching me (how to train for Formula One specifically, different ways to keep my brain sharp, physical training adjustments, how to cope with the drastic difference between F2 and F1, which both Logan and Oscar had already told me about), if I've met Kelly and Penelope (I have, Penelope adores me for some reason), who I've met in Red Bull (Daniel, Max, Christian, Geri, a few engineers, some other drivers who now raced for other teams, and such.)

And then someone asks something that makes my stomach crawl, "Can you tell us why we haven't seen your father in the paddock this season even though his racing company is one of your main sponsors?"

"It's only the third race. I'm sure we'll see him in Sakura." I smile, trying to keep my voice level, but the reporters have found something to latch onto. I took too long to respond.

"How is your relationship with him been impacted since moving in with your mother?"

"The timezones make it hard to speak, but he is still my father, so," I shrug, trying now a bit more desperately to shove through the crowd. They're not letting me go. I can hear Kimi telling someone to move, his voice is sharp and annoyed, but the reporter doesn't listen.

"Is it true your father abused you?"

"What?" I gape, but reporters flash cameras and shove over each other to get to me. My reaction fuels them.

"Is Project Matsumoto a real thing, or just a mimic of Project Verstappen?"

I can't even recover from the last question as I gasp out, "I'm sorry?" I don't even know what they're referencing.

"Did Red Bull pick you to be Max's sibling due to your similar childhoods?"

I can't get words out now, the berating is on, and all I can do is try and back away. I can see Ollie waving a hand, trying to beckon me through the crowd, and now FIA officials are coming to move the reporters away. It's a mess of shoving and screaming, people in my face as they repeat themselves until their voices pitch to shouts and screams. I can't move through because any step I take is immediately countered by a shift in the tide of cameras and voices, blocking my path.

"Was your fathers attitude is Sakhir last year reflective of your childhood with him?" "How did your parents divorce effect your racing career?" "Is it hard to be living away from your Japanese roots?" "Why did your mother accuse your father of emotional and physical domestic abuse when they divorced?"

A reporter steps forward and grabs me and I rip back from him. Ollie's shoving a reporter to the side, trying to grab me before he's closed off by the ocean of people around me.

"Is the rumor of your fathers mistreatment of you true?" The man asks again, trying to grab me and I stumble back in a panic. My hat is pulled off by him instead, and I just let it go as I bring my arms to my stomach and wrap around myself.

"Please! Everyone, wait--!" I cry out, the obvious panic in my tone making my skin flame with embarrassment.

"Answer the question!" The same man shouts, shoving a reporter aside as raising his hand with his microphone. All I see is the raising of a fist in the shadow of my father, and my brain reacts before I can really think about what I'm about to do.

Crack!

I gasp as soon as I make the connection. It's hard. Max's training paying off well. Ollie's infront of me, grabbing my wrists and gently pulling me to the side until he can get me out of the crowd. Prema's around me in seconds, closing me off as I stare at my hands and feel the blood seeping across my knuckles.

I'm so screwed.

They get me into the paddock, voices over my head and slipping through my ears. I'm sat in my drivers room, Ollie and Kimi being peeled from my sides to go off and get ready for the race. I can't hear, can't think, a constant ringing ruining any conscious thought. My knuckle is split. My ring finger. I stare as one of the medics begins to clean up the wound.

Not even the sting can pull me from the thoughts racing through my head.

I hit someone. Struck a man out of fear. He had grabbed me, knocked my hat off, I had every reason to hit him. Yet, I had hit someone. I could hear my father's voice ringing in the back of my head, warnings of inheritance and passing down genetics I had shaken off to make myself feel better.

I was not my father. Never would be my father. I was so sure of that. Until today.

When the medic lets go of my hand and sets it on my lap, I feel fear strike my bones. And when René comes to get me, my silence is terrifying to everyone. I stand silent, straight faced, not even cracking a smile. The cameras watch me twice as much, I react a thousand times less.

Max is sitting on his bed, Penelope happily napping on his chest as he watches the pre-race bullshit for Reina. He had off today, oddly enough, and Kelly had gone out to do some sort of PR management event which left him to watch little Penelope. No problem at all.

The pre-race is what he's expecting, he can see Ollie dragging Reina and Kimi around and amassing a small group of F2 drivers outside of Trident. He laughs when Kimi hoists Reina into his arms, loudly announcing her by her nickname of Little Lion and making the rest of the boys cheer. What he isn't expecting is when they break up from the rest of the drivers to return to their paddock. Ollie's leading Kimi and Reina back when they get cut off by a mass of reporters. F2 hadn't been prepared for their usual amount of media to almost multiply by ten, and apparently it had been causing all sorts of issues.

Like this.

The questions are easy enough. He feels a weird swell of pride when he notices how easily Reina answers the reporters compared to before he'd started teaching her some media techniques.

And then the questions shift.

He can see Reina's panic after the first question, actually he sees it as soon as the word 'father' is brought up. He sits up a bit, gently readjusting Penelope as he turns the TV a bit louder. The camera swings away for a moment to show Ollie and Kimi pause when they realize Reina's not there, and their quick turn around before the camera swaps to show Reina.

She looks horrified. Max feels a burn in his chest as he sits up and leans forward, almost willing Ollie through the crowd. He can see multiple Prema people attempting to shove through, but every attempt is in vain. Nothing is working. It's a Sisyphean task.

Then the reporter tries to grab Reina and Max has to hold himself back from getting up and shouting at the TV. Not that it's gonna change anything. Reina steps back, and her eyes are darting around, trying to find a weak spot to escape. She can't, Max realizes, as the reporters close in.

The next thing he sees is her arm jut forward, a loud crack sounding over the speakers. His jaw drops, the sight of Reina hitting someone so foreign to him. Silence falls over the crowd as Ollie grabs her and pulls her away, someone else shouting for her to come on as Prema swarms her in a protective bubble. The feed cuts there and leaves Max on a cliff hanger for thirty minutes until they are just about to start the race. The anthem is playing. But, the Reina he sees on the screen is not his Reina.

She's silent, stone faced, frozen still and almost robotic. She moves soft as a dancer, but her gaze is sharper than an ice skaters blades. She wins, sure, but he can't get her haunted look out of his brain. She carries it even through her podium, not even able to smile when she hoists the trophy above her head.

The call from Hana the next day is expected. The invite to their flat in London is not.

"She just needs someone who understands what she's going through." Hana had pleaded on the phone, "I know it's wrong of me to say it, but you were treated a very similar way when you first got into F1 and especially when you started winning. You had a similar past, you both have similar struggles. She needs your help, Max.”

Max had wanted to suggest a therapist, a psychiatrist even, but he knew Reina would rather throw herself in front of a Le Mans car, probably the Porsche 936, than talk about her problems. Which left the question of if she would even talk to him.

But he tells Christian and Geri what's happening for a second opinion, and he is told he should go.

So he's on a flight to London three hours later, about a weeks worth of clothing packed haphazardly. He thinks he forgot a toothbrush and aftershave, but he doesn't care to check. After careful conversation, Hana had agreed to let him get a hotel close by, so he could give Reina space. Hana had been so certain Reina needed him, but Max wasn't even sure if Hana had tried to reach out to her daughter herself. Apparently Reina wasn't eating, doing her training, or even the sim. She had been in bed except for when she was forced out, and luckily there was a bit longer break than usual, it gave Max time.

He gets to the flat around eleven in the morning, twirling the keys of his rental car in his hand. He tells Hana he's coming inside and she gives him the code to the lobby and to the flat. The second one isn't needed, the woman is waiting for him in the hall.

“Thank you so much for coming out here.” Hana sighs when she sees Max and he’s shocked to see the usually classy woman in such a disheveled state, he gives her a hug in greeting but allows her to ramble through it.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a mess, I just—Reina hasn’t done this in so long it’s genuinely frightening to see it again.” Hana wipes her face, sniffling as she shakes her hands to sort of shake it off, “I’ve been trying to get her to do anything and she just won’t, she’s usually twice as active after a race, not sedimentary! I don’t know what to do—“

Max cuts off her rambling with a soft, “Hey, relax. You’ve done all you can. You go and take care of yourself, I’ll talk to Reina.”

It must be what Hana needs to hear (it’s something he’d been told by his mom when comforting Victoria growing up) because Hana barrels into his chest in a hug, thanking him probably thirty times in a row before stepping back and letting him in.

The apartment is gorgeous, Max can’t lie. It’s got big windows and tons of natural lighting, bright bold colors in decorations he’s sure Reina picked out. Which, he guesses, makes sense, because it will become her apartment soon. Hana points him in the direction of Reina’s room, but seems so genuinely distraught she can’t go near.

And this is where he’s stepping off the dock.

He hesitates to knock, but does eventually. It’s soft enough he’s sure Reina won’t hear it, but then he hears the most broken, teary and bitter, “what?” from the other side of the door.

“It’s Max.” He presses his hand to the handle, eyes staring through the wood as he leans in to the door itself, almost as if trying to see Reina through it, “can I come in?”

There’s a long enough pause he thinks she’ll say no. But theres a soft, "okay."

He pushes the door open to the darkness of Reina's room. One Himalayan salt lamp is on in the corner, providing a slightly warm glow to the room. The blinds are drawn tight, blackout curtains hastily thrown over them, and Reina's head is the only part of her body that's visible under her mass of blankets. Her room isn't quite messy, just cluttered with partially empty water bottles and a plate of cold breakfast. He remembers this. The shutting yourself off part of this all, of being raised like they had. Or, the lack thereof.

"Mornin'." He says simply, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. Reina blinks a few times, like she can't even believe Max is there, and slowly sits up.

"Why are you here?" Her voice is groggy but not in the sense of just waking up, it sounds more like shes been sobbing for hours. A claim backed up by the redness of her swollen eyes and sniffly nose.

"Your mom called." He doesn't sugarcoat, never has, "I saw the punch. What did the FIA give you for that?"

“Five second penalty. Kimi was behind by six. Didn’t matter.” She grumbled, looking over at him from where she’s bundled up. She looks miserable, and though Max knows he’s started to crack through to get her to talk, he needs to keep trying.

“Did they fix your brakes?” Max asks and Reina nods, then sits up and sighs.

“I know you didn't fly all the way from Monaco to London for small talk. What’s wrong?” She asks, scrubbing at her red cheeks as she crosses her legs and grabs a large plush Hello Kitty and buries her face in it.

“Your mom said you’re not handling it well,” Max hums, leaning back on his hand and looking over at Reina as she curls a little bit tighter around her plushie.

“I hit someone.” She whines, “I hit him.”

“He grabbed you.” Max says, looking over at Reina and letting out a tiny non-committal hum, “the reason the FIA gave you such a little punishment is because it’s self defense.”

“But Max, I hit him.” Reina emphasized and Max blinked. What the fuck was she getting at here? His confusion must be all over his face because she shifts slightly closer and he can see where she'd split one of her knuckles open. Hana hold told him the finger was technically broken, but Reina refused to wear her brace on it. Something about having already worn one in the past. Not that Max would know. But when Reina goes to ball her hand into a fist, he notes her pinkie and ring finger don't close. Daniel's injury rings in his mind for a second, but he shoves the thought away as Reina continues to repeat herself, more broken, more panicked.

“Reina," Max attempts to soothe her, scooting a a bit closer to place a hand on hers, hiding the injury from her sight, "what are you getting at here?"

"I..." She stammers, eyes darting around his face, and then she huffs out a question he's not expecting, "Are you afraid of being like your father?"

Max blinks. The silence encompassing the room for a long while before he sighs out a soft, "Yeah, terrified."

"Me too." Reina nods, flexing her hand again. Max watches the way her eyes dart down to her injury and he realizes she's trying to cue him in. It's like a puzzle, and he has to put together the pieces to get the picture. She doesn't say anything next, leaving Max to figure it out himself, so he just watches Reina.

She's fidgety, fingers tapping along her injured hand, but he notes she keeps poking her pinkie. She'd injured her right ring finger, not the pinkie, so he's not sure what she's trying to do. She's not concerned over her current injury, but the past one. His eyes trail along her clothing, her mothers old NASCAR jersey, the rest of her hidden under mass amounts of fuzzy blankets. Her hair is braided back, greasy, and knotted, her skin is dull but still clear save for one or two pimples in her hairline. She wasn't taking care of herself, he could see that, it was a classic depressive episode.

Max meets her eyes and sees shes trying to pick him apart too.

But why? What did she need to know? Max was pretty open with her, he'd told her more than he told most people. Geri had encouraged it, hell she'd even asked if she could tell Hana some stuff from when he first got to Red Bull. The first time he'd snapped at Christian, expecting to be shouted back at, but was shocked at his calm tone. The first Christmas, when he had no one to go to, and Christian invited him to their home and though Max was slightly out of place he'd stolen the attention of the kids in a heartbeat. That was the day he'd become almost like a fifth kid to the Horners. Geri had asked if he was comfortable talking about his childhood with Hana, and he had, though it was a difficult conversation. She'd asked wonderful questions about healing and growing up and moving on, asked how much moving to Monaco and being on his own at eighteen had helped. Being on his own was freeing, he'd said that much, and though he kept some parts out he knew Hana could piece it together.

Hold on.

Max had snapped because he thought Christian would be like Jos when he'd failed to overtake on a turn.

Max hadn't had anywhere to go that Christmas because it was the first time he was celebrating without any family in the same home.

Max became an unofficial Horner because his own familial issues.

Max had moved to Monaco to get away from his father.

Reina was afraid to be like her father.

Reina was always looking to Max for validation, even with how short they had known each other.

Reina's injury, from what little Max knew, was caused after she had crashed out of a race--in heer drivers room. The last time she'd seen her dad after she'd left their house in Fukushima.

Shit.

"Reina." Max starts, not sure if he even knows how to approach this. He'd been the messy one, the one to snap, the one to shout, the one to lash out. It was evident of an 'avoidant attachment style' from his childhood or whatever the hell that meant, therapists always confused him with technicalities. Max wasn't gentle, he wasn't soft like this, he was hard edges and half-broken promises. How does one avoid their own sharp edges when trying to handle something so soft? How can Max be sure he won't break Reina?

"What happened to your pinkie?" He asks, gently prodding the knuckle with his own. Reina meets his eyes. He can't find her in her own gaze.

"Boxer's fracture." She murmurs, "Like Daniel's."

"I know that, but how did it happen?" He pushes and when Reina freezes up, he whispers, "Listen, it's just us right now. I'm gonna keep you safe, yeah? Like a real brother would."

Max had enough experience protecting Victoria.

"My dad." Reina starts, then swallows and closes her eyes. She leans forward, seeking out Max, and he moves so she can rest her head on his shoulder, staring down at her hands covered by his, "Last year, when I crashed out towards the end of the season. I was living with my mom by then, so I never really saw him. I didn't even know he was at the race. I got to my drivers room and we got in an argument. My mom tried to split us up and he slapped her so hard she fell over. I pushed him to get him to leave her alone and..."

Reina struggles to find the words and whatever she had gone through is a thousand times worse than Max could've ever expected.

"He grabbed me by the wrist, I grabbed a door to get away and he slammed it on my hand. Broke my metacarpal in two places, I needed surgery, so I never finished the season. Finished thirteenth."

Max is still. So still he's not even sure he's still breathing. Reina sniffles, and Max feels her tears hit the back of his hand.

"You don't wanna wear the brace because it takes you back." He says and Reina just lets out a soft hum. He doesn't know what to do. So, he does what Geri had done the few times she'd had to comfort him. One arm around her shoulders, the other on her head, and he pulls her taught to his chest to cradle her there.

The sob she lets out shatters his heart and he tries to pull her impossibly closer. They're flush to one another, theres no more space to close, but he still tries as Reina breaks and shatters in his hands like fine china. He attempts to piece her back together but there's not enough of him intact to repair her. Max, for his benefit, has dealt with Penelope's tired melt downs and so he gives Reina a waterbottle and wipes her tears, lays her down admist her blankets and tucks her in tightly. He sits on the floor by her face, running his fingers through her hair as best he can, gently running his thumb along her shoulder.

He can tell shes not just crying because she'd hit someone, but theres more to it. And an hour or so later, when the tears subside, she finally opens her heart to him.

"I hate my dad." She whispers after maybe five minutes of silence, no longer broken by her sniffles.

"I do too." Hate his dad? Hate hers? He's not sure. But he stands up to open her curtains and blinds, hands itching to do something rather than just sit silent. The noon sun warms the room almost instantly, and Reina lifts her head to shift into the sun. He turns and speaks as he bends down to pick up a stray bottle, "Why do you hate him?"

"Just... everything he put me and my mom through." Reina sighs, "There's a lot he did I can never forgive him for."

"What did he do?" Max sits down again and Reina reaches out to his hand, which he obliges, and she pokes at his fingers.

"When I was growing up, I started karting in Japan with my father. He wanted me to race rally cars since I was born, even with his obvious disappointment I wasn’t a son. I competed for the first time on my fifth birthday, and won. I got scouted that day and my dad completely changed. It went from a little hobby I could have to a future career, especially when my mother learned she was infertile after my birth." Reina speaks monotonously, eyes distant as she recalls, and though Max has read up on her past he knows he's getting a new raw look at her life.

"My dad finally got me in rally when I was ten, a year before the divorce. I did it for three years. The worst three years of my life." Reina shifts so she's laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding Max's eyes, "everything that my father had just simply said became physical. Every single time I made a mistake, I was hit. Every time I talked back, ignored him, walked away, did anything he deemed to be incorrect, I was hit. Sometimes just a whack to the back of my head in annoyance, most of the time closed fists. The only thing I was allowed to do was race, extracurriculars, and school. And that includes sleeping, eating, showering, and such."

"On my thirteenth birthday, my mom came to visit us in Japan for a race I had in Fukushima. I finished second because of some dirty play and my dad was so angry at the company for not catching that, he took it out on me completely. My mom and her boyfriend at the time saw the entire thing, a huge fight broke out, the cops got called, it was a whole thing.

"My mom sued my dad for only my custody, no payment, nothing. And he dug his own hole, the court found out he was spending all the money my mom sent for me on himself, I had saved years of evidence... my mom ended up getting full custody without a challenge, and a payment that amounted to all her payments of child support and then two years worth of payments of my fathers child support in advance. That all happened around the time I switched to Formula racing. The entire time I've been racing Formula I've been living with my mom and my dad has been sending child support."

"When he got... aggressive with you, was it always physical?" Max hums and Reina shakes her head. Max slowly starts to undo one of the braids to redo it, trying to ignore the greasy feeling on his hands, and she leans into his touch so much he has to pause as he feels her face rest against his arm.

"No, it was just shouting until I got into rally and then every once and a while he’d hit me. And the most he did before I got into rally was slap me once when I was like, six? But it was mostly just him ignoring me or screaming at me, or making me race to exhaustion." Reina sighs as she then rolls to curl up against his side and Max adjusts so that he's half laying down with Reina curled up on his chest. It's similar to the way he'd gotten the youngest Horner kids to sleep when he'd visit or babysit over the years.

"My father is one of the worst people on the planet," Reina stares out the window. Max hums non-committedly, moving a little bit closer as Reina speaks in the most dead tone he's ever heard as she says, "and I have always been his favorite punching bag."

"I was my father's favorite too." Max admits and Reina nods.

"What was he like?"

"Just a lot more manipulative and way less physical. A lot of it was just him ignoring me, leaving me places, shouting at me, pressuring me. A lot of manipulation when I'd call him out on it." Max hums, finding the braid he'd half undone to fully pull it out. Reina grabs a brush off her nightstand and hands it to him so he can start to brush out her hair. It's weirdly remnant of Victoria and Penelope. Reina hums and as Max brushes out her hair, he feels the way her body relaxes.

“So did you pick me or did Red Bull?” Reina asks maybe five minutes later and Max hums, fingers finding loops of her hair to slowly braid it again. Practically hearing Geri’s voice instructing him on how to braid because it was ‘something good to know for Penelope.’ He was glad he had listened to her. It was a good thing to know.

“They told me I was gonna train you, then told me I was gonna train Ollie.” Max hums, “Ollie’s great but… I dunno. I just knew I should mentor you. Call it divine intervention but I knew.”

“Im glad you chose me.” Reina murmurs against the fabric of his hoodie and he realizes how odd this moment is. He’d packed up in thirty minutes, gotten on a two hour flight, and spent an hour coaxing his mentees trauma out so he can help her. He could’ve just said he was busy, and yet he’d already given so much of his heart to Hana and Reina he knew he couldn’t just abandon them. Reina needed him just as much as he needed her.

"I'm glad I did too. And... listen, Rei, you hitting this guy because he scared you doesn't make you an abuser." Max watches as Reina picks her head up, resting her chin on his sternum to watch him, "and Reina, you being afraid of being like your father tells me you will never be."

"But I just... I hit someone like he hit me and it was just an echo. He always told me I would grow up to be like him." Reina closes her eyes and Max takes a hand to cup her face, running his thumb along her wet undereyes.

"But you hit out of fear, not out of anger or with the intention of abusing someone, thats the thing that will never make you like him."

Reina nods, and Max knows it'll probably take him the whole week to convince her of that. But, as Reina lays her head back down with a soft thank you, he feels like he's done enough. Only twenty four hours ago he had Penelope sleeping on his chest. Now Reina’s in the same spot, her hand reaching out to cup the setting sun with her injured hand.

“Kintsugi.” She says softly, then sits up. Max watches her, head tilting as she moves to her closet and swings the door open. Grabbing a stool, she clambers up to the top shelf and starts rustling around. From his vantage point on the bed, Max can see deep scars running the inside of her leg and wonders briefly where they’re from before Reina settled back in front of him on the couch. She sees him looking and swallows, digging something out of a box from her closet.

“Also from my dad.” She says, eyes flickering up, “same day my mom was in Fukushima.”

“Ah.” Max nods, and lets Reina continue to rustle. He wants to ask questions, but he’s curious as to what she’s doing. She sets down her brace and a thing of gold paint and hands a brush to him.

“What is this?”

“Okay. It’s kinda stupid because this is no where close to what you’re supposed to do, but hear me out,” Reina raises her hands in defense. Max let’s her have the floor, he’s not gonna judge her.

“Kintsugi, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery or dishes or whatever with urushi lacquer mixed with powered gold or whatever and I don’t have lacquer and this isn’t technically broken but!” Reina pauses her rambling, chews her lip, and looks away from Max and to the window, “When I had my first hand brace, my Jiji—my grandmother, she painted it with this beautiful gold design. She told me it was my kintsugi. That I was broken, and that she was mending me. And… she’s always been my biggest support. Besides my mom, Jiji sacrificed so much for me, almost all her salary went to helping me get into F4 because my dad stopped helping me pay for racing until he started sponsoring me last year. And… Kintsugi is our thing. If she breaks anything she waits for me to fix it.”

There’s something hanging here, something so vulnerable, so Max asks with plenty of pause to show his trepidation, “Why did you give me the brush, then? Where’s Jiji?”

“In Washington.” Reina hums, “And… you… you’re a really big supporter to me. And you mean a lot to me, Max. I’ve only known you for half a year now but… you’ve helped me with a lot. And you sacrifice a lot for me. You flew all the way here to help me because my Mom asked. And don’t think Christian didn’t tell me about you trying to anonymously sponsor me.”

Max laughs softly, “Guilty as charged.”

“I want you to paint something on it. Anything. I have a—“ Reina starts to dig again, “a gold marker too. I do this all the time with things I break—like my phone cases or my hair ties. This is a whole bin of knockoff Kintsugi.”

She hands Max the marker and then rolls off to the side to curl back into her blankets, but rests her head on his thigh. Max sits and stares at the brace in his hand, rolling it around in his grasp as he thinks of what to write. There’s about a thousand things that ring through his head, and none he can settle on.

And then he gets an idea.

While Reina watches him focus, the golden light of the sun haloing him, she wonders briefly if she’s found her own form of Kintsugi in him. Sure they weren’t perfect, and both deeply troubled in their own right, traumas rooted deep within them, but they had each other and that was what they needed.

And Max knew he found Kintsugi in Reina.

Reina sits up when Max hands her the brace back, making an odd face when she sees its written in Dutch.

“laat u niet definiëren door uw naam. Do not be defined by your name.” Max says simply, and Reina looks up at him and tears prick in her eyes immediately. When Max helps her put it on, he adds a bit more gold flare to the boring black brace and smiles.

“Now you can wear it, yeah?” he says, and Reina leans up to wrap her arms taught around him. He laughs softly and hugs her back, letting her bury her face in the side of his neck.

If she sobs, he doesn’t comment, just lets her lay there until she’s run dry.

A week later, Max is unpacking in Monaco when he notices something new in his bag. He finds a small little keychain, a little blue ribbon tied to a clasp he knows he can snag on his keys. It’s in Japanese, but the note attached makes him smile a little watery smile.

‘Max,

Thank you. That’s all I can say. For everything you were supposed to help me with, and everything you chose to do on your own. I hope I can return the favor.

Reina.

ps. it says ‘do not be defined by your name.’ just like my brace,’

The keychain hangs off the zipper of his work jacket instead. And if anyone asks—and Yuki is the first to ask the meaning since he knows what it actually says, he simply smiles and says it’s a gift. No other explanation needed.

Except for when Geri asks, and he tells her the whole story, and then Christian ‘yells’ at him for making Geri cry.

reinamatsumoto made a new post!

liked by gerihorner, logansargeant, maxverstappen, and 458k others...

reinamatsumoto: [come back soon, big brother]!!

viewing translation from japanese

tagged: maxverstappen

misshanatanaka: [so sweet! glad having him by helped sweetheart!!]

user1: CAPTOIN HAS ME IN FUCKING TEARS

user2: MAX IS HER BROTHER !!!!!!

logansargeant: did our sushi date meaning NOTHING.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: GOD YOU WANT A POST FOR FUCKING SUSHI??

⤷ logansargeant: YES?

⤷ oscarpiastri: please rei he's pouting.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: fine. anything for my favorite white boys.

⤷ user6: my favorite prema survivors <3

user3: CRYING OVER HER CALLING MAX HER BROTHER. OH. IM SO NOT WELL.

user4: so are we gonna talk ab her punching a reporter? bc shes hot for that.

oscarpiastri: PERONI??? FOUL.

gerihorner: so so so cute!!!!!

⤷ reinamatsumoto: thanks mom!!!

⤷ maxverstappen: thanks mom

user5: logan crying in the comments is so real

yukitsunoda: [max is a big softie!]

⤷ reinamatsumoto: [I KNOW !!!]

taglist (thank you for your support!!)

@vellicora @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

[or0ch1maru]

I don't know if you're still doing requests but ahhhh

Could you maybe do one with the Akatsuki where y/n and a member are having play banter/teasing eachother for a bit but then one says something too far/or mentioned something their sensitive about and it hurts the others feelings? .3.

I love your writing:3 especially Kisame stuff *giggles*

Here’s a big smooch *MWAHH😘*thank you so much love😩 I love kisa so much and I feel like he’s SUPER underrated.

Here’s a gift from me to you as I write about our big teddy bear🧸

•you’ve been with the akatsuki for about two years now, and they’ve become more than just comrades. They’re family

•and with family comes some hardships, arguing about something like bills, or missions

•then there are the times people bicker between each other like siblings; some that you’ve heard or been apart of that consisted of “move your fat ass Tobi, I wanna sit down” said by Deidara when he wanted a spot on the couch. Then there was the one time someone ate your Onigiri, you questioned everybody and couldn’t find out who the culprit was

•but for the other 95% of the time, you guys love each other and get along as best friends

•today is like any other day

•you find yourself looking for a snack in the kitchen

• “whatcha lookin’ for short stop?” Asks Kisame when he enters, watching you rummage around for something that catches your interest

•everybody, except for Kakuzu is short compared to Kisa, you just happened to be the shortest. Which of course Kisame finds hilarious, but also really adorable.

• “I need sustenance” you comment back lightly, pushing boxes of pancake mix out of the way in the closet to see what’s behind them

•you take a step back, your body hitting Kisame’s torso, you tilt your head, craning to look up at him as he starts shifting things around on the higher shelves. Helping you out

• “we’ve got chicken noodle soup, clam chowder. I’ll actually take that. We also have a few boxes of noodles up here with sauce if you don’t mind waiting a bit.” He lists off

• “hand me a box of noodles, don’t care which, we got pesto up there?” You ask, trying to see if there’s a jar of the green sauce. “Hm” Kisame hums out as he searches. “Ah, here we are. He grabs a container and brings it down to you. You take the jar of pesto and the noodles from him and slip out of the pantry

•as you put a pot of water on to boil you hear the snap of the can opening behind you. You watch as Kisame grabs a clean spoon from a drawer and digs into his soup

•you roll your eyes playfully, “do you not want to heat that up? Or at least put it in a bowl or something?” You ask. Most of the time when out on missions, all you guys bring are canned food, or things that are premade. Not really having much time for anything else.

•you’d think at home, most of your comrades would put a little more time into what they eat

•he shrugs, finishing up the last of the chowder by drinking it out of the can, tossing the spoon into the sink.

• “so uncivilized” you mutter playfully as you dump the noodles into the water. You put another pot on the stove, this one much smaller as you dump the pesto in it. Keeping it on Low so it can be nice and warm

• “I am civilized” Kisame responded, his tone cheerful as it is most of the time, especially when around you

• “hm, whatever you say” you joke, now stirring your pasta to keep the noodles from sticking to the bottom

• “list five times where I came off uncivilized” Kisa says from behind you, leaning up against the counters on the opposite side of the kitchen

• “I’m not gonna go into full detail but you remember that one time Pain decided to treat us to a nice dinner in that village nearby?” You start, holding back giggles when you remember how bad that dinner ended up

• “oh fuck” Kisame replies, trying and failing at holding in his laugh. “It wasn’t my fault their chairs weren’t up to the task of holding me. I didn’t mean to crash into the waiter!” He exclaims, holding his sides as he defends himself.

• as the two of you calm down from laughing , you dump the noodles into the strainer.

• “but but-..” Kisame starts, clearly getting ready to burst into laughter with whatever he’s going to say next. “You remember when we were visiting the Hidden Leaf and you snapped at the waitress because she spilled hot tea in your lap? She looked so embarrassed. Think it musta been her first day or something”

•you shake your head, “yea yea, get it oughta your system. I apologized to her” you mutter as you scoop noodles into a bowl and cover them evenly with your sauce. You mimic Kisame’s earlier movements and grab a fork from the same drawer before haphazardly blowing on a mouthful of noodles

•you shove the still hot food into your mouth, puffing your cheeks out as it burns your tongue. You turn away and swallow, not wanting Kisa to see how ridiculous you just looked as you burned your mouth

• “then remeber when we had that one mission where it was you, Konan, me, and Itachi?” He asks, small giggles slipping between his lips

• “you and Konan were both irritable as fuck because of your periods syncing up or some shit like that?” You freeze, you tried pushing that out of your head. Mid travel, Kisame had noticed that you got blood on your cloak, and he thought it was from the enemy you had taken out an hour prior. He even tried using an old rag to scrub it out for you

•it wasn’t until he saw the look of horror and embarrassment on your face that he knew he was missing out on something

• “I can still remember the face you made. Oh my fuck, it was so funny” Kisame blurbs out, and your face heats up with embarrassment. You and Konan sent Itachi and Kisame off ahead of you two while Konan gave you a spare tampon since you had bled through the one you were wearing.

•it definitely wasn’t one of your proudest moments but you gotta do what you gotta do

•luckily your back is still turned towards your large comrade, giving you a chance to blink away the tears that are now burning your eyes, threatening to fall

•you sniffle, bringing your sleeve up to wipe them away quickly. Acting like you got food on your face. But even you know, the effort is futile

•Kisame is always able to pick up on mood swings(before they even happen), can hear when one’s heart rate changes, and you’re pretty sure he knows whenever you or Konan are ovulating(only because he’s always distant during that time)

• “ah shit…” you hear Kisame mutter quietly. You go to turn, ready to act like you’re fine, putting on a brave face when you’re met with Kisame’s torso right in front of you

• “I realize now what happened. I’m sorry” Kisa says from above you. Your cheeks flush and you cock your head to the side, trying to hide your slight embarrassment

•you feel two large hands on your back, pulling you towards him until your face is buried in his chest. The scent of his cologne filling your nose. Something about that and being wrapped up in his arms is soothing.

• “it’s ’Kay” you mutter into his chest, your words coming out muffled.

•something about how you sounded causes both you and Kisame to burst out into another laughing fit.

•Kisame bends down to hug you tighter, causing your giggles to hitch, and come out sounding broken, which in turn, make you two laugh even harder. Your sides hurt, and you know his must too

• “if you-ever-bring that story up again, I will kill you” you threaten playfully from his chest.

• “I’ll hold you to that short stop”

(Guys guys! Who here would like a Kisame x ovulating reader blurb?!?! Because it came to me when I was writing this and omg)

[wooziswonderfulworld]

Overdoing It

Tw: drug use, overdosing, drug caused seizure, suicide, teen death

———-

Floyd watched in silent shock along with everyone else, hands covering his mouth momentarily stunned

He’d just been set free, he was alive, Velvet and Veneer where about to be arrested when Velvet collapsed

At first they thought she was acting dramatic. But then she started shaking, bad, her eyes rolled back and her limbs seized wildly

Everyone gasped seeing the former pop star having a full on seizure on stage, Veneer was panicked, trying to protect his twin from the camera

“Help me!” He cried out looking desperately at the trolls

Velvet was seizing from how much Troll essence she had consumed, she essentially overdosed herself

No one really knew what to do-But Floyd did, and no matter how much the two hurt him, he wasn’t going to sit back and watch

Floyd looked at Veneer, with seriousness “protect her head” He instructed “how long has it been since this started-?” Floyd asked “Veneer! Her head” Floyd repeated seeing him frozen but it seemed to knock him back to reality and he quickly held her head

“About a minute” Branch said “okay-keep timing it” He said earning a nod “Is there an ambulance coming?” Floyd asked the police “yeah they’re on the way” they said

John Dory seemed to notice some people in the crowd recording “HEY DIP SHITS-PUT YOUR DAMN PHONES AWAY THIS ISN’T A LAUGHING MATTER” His voice echoed, luckily Trolls naturally could echo their voices to be heard, it made sense with how small they where

Viva and Clay managed to find away to turn the large screen off so now it was near impossible to see what was going on

“Veneer-I’m going to need you to remove her shoulder pads” Floyd said “But-her head??” He asked eyes brimming with confusion (and tears)

Poppy, Bruce, and Clay extended and formed their hair into a cushion, luckily troll hair was pretty thick so that also helped

Veneer swallowed thickly before taking the shoulder pads, glad his sister was sensible enough to wear something underneath

“I-I don’t understand why this is happening!”

“Well I assume neither of you did your research before deciding to huff Troll essence. We’re basically Drugs to other creatures” Clay said “using us to much can cause an overdose and well this”

Veneer looked teary eyed, he should’ve done his research! Damn it damn it damn it!

“Veneer! I know you’re beating yourself up, but now is not the time-“

“Guys-I don’t know much about seizures but it’s been 7 minutes” Branch said, the ambulance pulled in and just in time Velvet stopped shaking but she was still unconscious

Veneer quickly followed jumping in

Floyd didn’t care about a thank you nor did he expect one

“I warned her” Floyd stated sadly, She might have abused and tortured him consistently for 2 months, but he didn’t want the teen to over do it

Which is exactly what she did

“Shut up troll! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Velvet sneered after spraying herself a total of seven times

Despite the agonizing pain Floyd still tried to get into her head “Velvet-I do know! I’m literally a troll!”

Velvet just rolled her eyes tossing him to the side

“Floyd-come on man, we need to go home” Bruce said bringing him back to reality

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Poppy asked, Floyd was silent “no” he answered solemnly “fame can do stuff to a person, especially one so young” He said shaking his head

A few days into their trip home they heard the news

“Former teen superstar Velvet was pronounced dead after overdosing on “Troll essence” Her twin Veneer is currently in prison for the crimes the two and will be up for parole in 4 years”

Floyd sighed, He knew it would happen, but it was still sad. The two were what? 16, 17? Velvet ended up killing herself wanting to be the best, and Veneer wanting nothing more than to make his sister happy, and now he was all alone.

“Is it weird that I feel responsible?” Floyd asked no one in particular

“No…You didn’t ask for them to do that, I’m sure you warned her. I mean, even when the Bergen’s wanted to eat us they knew better then to have more then two trolls…at least that’s what Bridget told me”

Floyd nodded softly looking over at the pop queen who had spoken “I did warn her, she didn’t listen though, too caught up in the fame and luxury I was providing for her with my talent”

“Do you think…this will get us classified as some type of illegal drug?” Poppy asked, Floyd was silent, would they?

“I would assume so, at least over there, maybe other places too. More laws in place because of us”

“What do you think will happen to her brother?”

Floyd looked up thoughtfully “hard to say-He really loved Velvet…It’s gonna be tough for him but, he has potential to continue his life as a better person, I just hope he knows that too”

“You sound unsure” Poppy said looking at him, Floyd sighed “he saw his twin seize in front of him and probably saw her flat line and then got thrown into prison. He lost his only family and other half and got his freedom taken…he’s only 17 too, and it’s not like he can be released on bail considering his crimes involved kidnapping, torture, attempted murder.”

Two months later they got the news

“Two months after being put in jail, former pop star singer Veneer was reported dead in his cell, MRPD have yet to issue a cause of death but it’s safe to assume suicide due to losing his twin Velvet after she overdosed on Troll essence which has now been deemed as an illegal drug.”

Floyd was afraid this would be the outcome, unfortunately he was correct.

“So, I guess that means we can’t go back there huh?” Clay asked “I mean if we’re considered an illegal drug now, it’ll be hard for us to go anywhere outside Trollstopia”

“I mean, Vacay Island doesn’t really have a law enforcement? At least that I know off, everyone knows each other and I’m the only trolls there and they’ve never tried to use me to get…high, or something so I think we’ll be safe going there, but other places with other species…aside from the Bergen’s, I’m not sure” Bruce said

“I assume you expected this outcome?” Poppy asked looking at Floyd “as unfortunate as it is…I did, I hoped he wouldn’t but, I’m not surprised” He said shaking his head

Some might say this was karma, they did say Karma was a merciless bitch

Floyd shook his head, He didn’t care about how ugly karma could be, despite being tortured and used for months, Velvet and Veneer didn’t deserve to die

Velvet who wanted to be noticed, heard, loved and Veneer who wanted to be with his sister. So caught up in what he provided for them, Velvet ended up using two much that it killed her, despite knowing it would she didn’t stop…was that also suicide? and Veneer who couldn’t stop her because he knew it made her happy and he got to spend time with her. Now he didn’t have her, he had no one anymore, he felt so hopeless that suicide seemed to be the only answer he could think off

At least they were together again. Twins could never be separated for to long after all.

Floyd glanced at his white roots, a reminder off what happened, he wondered if others would accuse him off murder, he was the cause of everything after all

“You told her though, you told both of them, they didn’t listen” He reminded himself, He was still recovering from his time locked up. He didn’t need to add guilt to that list

Walking out of the bathroom he laid in his bed and fell asleep. He didn’t know things would pan out this way, or maybe he did and didn’t want to believe it would. Life was fucked up though, you couldn’t really do much to change what happens to people

He��s just glad that now there will be more precautions around using Trolls for personal gain, he just hoped others were smart enough to listen.

[the-s1lly-corner]

GENERAL JAX HCS

mix of a bunch of stuff, probably going to be writing random stuff while waiting for requests to come in so i have something to do side note i never actually felt a knot in my neck form, only wake up with them after getting them in my sleep... until today, felt one form right in the back of my neck while i was just. standing and oh my god it sucks so much i hate knots but actually feeling it. develop. right there. sucks more i think anyways this is a mixed bag of just basic jax hcs + stuff that can tie in with other characters or the reader, we'll see since i write these notes before doing anything else

would this really be a jax hc post by the silly corner if i didnt mention the fidget headcannon? literally the hc that i bring up the most in my posts when theres readers who have accessories or tails or what have you?

i think hes going to mess with anything he can get his hands on; usually passing them between his hands or perhaps tossing them around in the air and catching them.. if its something bouncy hes going to be bouncing it along the ground while he's walking.. i think sometimes with other characters, he does try to mess with them out of habit (plus given how he snatches zoobles arm it kind of. shows hes comfortable doing that sort of thing, you know?)

sometimes messes with ragathas bow, or zoobles antennae (though with zooble its more on purpose and to annoy them).. i think you get the idea

speaking of ragatha i think they would be good friends, i mean i personally think if ragatha didnt like jax she would keep her distance from him (though to be fair we still only have the pilot so far + i think ragatha would still be polite if she didnt like him)

as for his dynamic with zooble i think they kind of egg each other on, but on the rare occasion they do agree on something they do so begrudgingly

i think his ears twitch when hes thinking or when hes irritated, not huge movements... mostly little... twiks, you know?

i dont think he really has fur personally, and if he does its really short and smooth... in my opinion he looks like he would be made of the same material as those small squishy animal toys

these ones, i got a handful of them and theyre genuinely so soft and squishy, me thinks jax would feel like these things

on the off chance he needs to cook for whatever reason, hes a terrible cook. like i think he can make one meal but outside of that hes a disaster in the kitchen... also doesnt make a good kitchen partner because hes going to think its funny to hand you the wrong thing when you ask him to pass something

malicious incompetence but hes doing it to annoy you and will probably give you the right thing after a few rounds of messing with you

no one is safe from his antics, assuming he and ragatha are good friends, shes still subject to his jokes at the bare minimum

so.... if youre friends with him youre at least going to go through the same thing

i dont think he would be a good secret keeper most of the time. like yeah sure if its something serious and important i think he would put aside his douchbagie-ness for once and keep it

but if its something outside of that? yeah no you're have more luck confiding in caine, who imo would pounce on the opportunity to gossip

probably shouts random stuff, like "hey caine, (reader) thinks youre (insert outrageous lie)!" just to mess with you. does this to other people, usually ragatha or gangle... sometimes does it to kinger, i think... only reason he doesnt do it to zooble is because they will get his ass, and hes giving pomni a 'grace period' before he decides to drag her into his shit

hes an ass but i dont think he would just jump on someone/j

speaking of, while he can be mean to some people i do think he has his limits, like hes not going to kick you while youre already down or make fun of you for something you cant really control or manipulate you by hanging something over your head (see the secret keeping thing, while he will tease you about more basic stuff if its something serious hes not going to do it imo)

you know?

though i do think hes the type to steal something from someone in order to make them talk to him; especially if he has a crush on someone... hes just a little shit like that

has this LOOK on his face when the person comes to retrieve their thing, and tbh... i can also see him waving it around over their head (hes tall, and if they can still reach it he probably jumps.. gets on his toes.. stumbles away and holds them back ect) just to keep them around for just a little longer

whether this is actually successful in getting with the person romantically depends... personally it wouldnt work for me but hey, some people find that behavior endearing and/or will be able to eventually pick up on what hes doing

does not like being vulnerable, this goes for really anything regarding feelings as he thinks it ties in with weakness (spoiler, it doesnt)... probably has a "eeeewww feelings..." mindset (though might still let you vent to him... will act uninterested but if he really didnt care hed just walk away.. more actions than words, this one is)

rarely talks about how he actually feels about things if the feeling in question is anything less than indifference or amusement... though hes not opposed to expressing anger or annoyance... will let you do what you will with that information...

naturally because of him being weird about his feelings, romantic feelings fall into the "eeeeeewww feelings..." category so hes not going to be blunt, again, actions over words here... and even then the actions here are mostly him messing with the person and trying to get them to spend time with him as a result (even if its not... hanging out..)

[berryhobii]

Hiii! I recently discovered your account and I'm so in love with you writings 😭. Can you do a namjoon x f!reader where namjoon gets really jealous and possessive so he picks a fight with her but then he regrets it when he saw her crying so he decided to remind her who she belongs to?!! Thanks in advance 💜

Thanks for your request! I actually kind of forgot what you specified so by the time I finished and read it again, I realize that you asked for reader to cry. I totally forgot. I’m sorry! I did include some tears of pleasure though. Hopefully that makes up for it. I also made Namjoon super toxic in this🫣still, I hope you enjoy!🩵🩵🩵

~

“You’re such an asshole! Why do you always do this?!” You slammed your purse down on your vanity, the furniture rocking under the force. You didn’t even care about your expensive makeup tumbling off it. That blush was $30!

“Why do you always insist on parading yourself around like you’re not in a relationship?”

Your head whipped around so fast that the tips of your braids smacked you in the face.

“You’re acting like I have For Rent sign hanging off my pussy, Namjoon!”

“You might as well!”

This wasn’t the first time you and your long term boyfriend had gotten into an argument like this. Specifically about this particular topic. It was honestly exhausting. Why did you even stick around?

Namjoon had been your on and off boyfriend for close to a decade. You two met in a little after high school. While he went off to college, you immediately started working, deciding that college wasn’t really for you. You worked a lot of odd jobs; mail carrier, retail worker, security guard and now you were a personal assistant at a company you actually really liked. It was good pay, good benefits, you even got your weekends free.

Working at a company meant company dinners. Normally, you’d decline. You’d tell your coworkers that you were tired or that you were spending time with your boyfriend and they’d take that excuse.

But the real reason you didn’t go was because your boyfriend was bat shit crazy.

Your hands waved around as you yelled back, “I’m not fucking anyone else, Namjoon! And I’m not trying to. Why the hell are you so paranoid?”

“How can I not be paranoid when my girlfriend is at a bar in a pair of jeans showing her ass?”

You ran a hand down your face, your laugh spiteful and exasperated. “I have a fat ass, Namjoon! What do you want me to do? Take it off and leave it on the dresser? Do I tell you to keep your dick at home?”

He was being completely unreasonable like always. You were a thicker girl. That would show regardless of what you wore. The fact that he almost blamed you for your body type and clothes as if they didn’t attract him in the first place was absolutely ridiculous. He could barely go 15 minutes without slapping it or telling you how sexy you were. It’s like he didn’t like you even existing outside of your apartment. Some irrational fear that you’re popping your coochie for other people. It was ridiculous.

He watched with rage filled eyes as you started walking around the room, removing your jewelry. He didn’t know why he was so upset. Just seeing you in that bar, laughing and with all those male coworkers around you.

It filled him with something more than jealousy.

Envy. Possessiveness.

You were his. No one else’s.

Honestly, seeing you so frustrated with him made his cock stir. The desire to force you back into submission was heavy on his shoulders and mind.

“Who was that guy you were talking to? I thought you didn’t date short guys.”

You were starting to get a headache. Tossing your earrings in the little dish on your vanity, you said, “his name’s Yoongi and I don’t want to date him. I’ve also never said I don’t date short guys. You’ve been my only boyfriend and it just so happens to be that you’re tall. Why are you putting words in my mouth?”

He could still remember how you laughed at whatever that guy said. Your hand pushing him because you had a tendency to hit people when you were laughing. Who the hell was this Yoongi guy to even be able to make you laugh? Namjoon should be the only one seeing you that joyous.

“It’s like you’re intentionally trying to piss me off. Do you get a kick out of making me angry?”

“If you’re pissed off at my body existing, that sounds like a you problem.” You went to your closet to start removing the bad jeans and your shirt.

“You should have known how I’d react.”

There it was. He was trying to flip it and blame you for his reaction.

Why did you even stay with him? He filled your days with unease. You weren’t the kind of person to let people control your actions. You were an adult. You’ve been handling yourself just fine. You knew deep down that you didn’t need him, the stress he brought.

But Namjoon was familiar. He was the only man you’ve been in a relationship with. He was all you knew. You couldn’t just let him go.

Liar. You could. You could pack up right now and leave him forever. Why haven’t you?

Pulling your night shirt over your head, you walked back out of the closet to see him sitting on the bed. He was manspread and staring at you with dark eyes. If you weren’t so peeved, you’d probably drop to your knees and give him a blowjob so good that it would knock him unconscious. “You know what, Namjoon? I’m so over you. When will you get it through your thick head that I’m not fucking anyone else and I don’t want to?!” You sighed. “In a minute, I won’t even want to fuck you anymore. Not while you’re acting like this.”

Just as you were about to turn around to walk to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you down onto the bed. With a practiced quickness, he was hovering above you, his dragon like eyes staring holes into your face.

“You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Don’t get mad at me because I don’t want you acting like you’re single.”

You tried to fight out of his hold but his huge body kept you down. Damn it, why did he have to start going to the gym? He was easier to overpower when he was still his lanky self. Now he’s beefed up and while you liked it, it really worked against you in these situations.

“How is me wearing jeans acting like I’m single? It’s not like I sucked anyone’s dick.”

His grin pissed you off even more.

“You probably wanted to. You always have been good at it.”

Fuck being on thin ice. He was in shark infested waters now.

You smirked back. “Yeah, it put your quick nutting ass to sleep everytime.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, not pressing hard enough to cut off your oxygen but enough so you could feel the pressure. You hated yourself for getting excited, pussy clenching. For all the times for your vagina to betray you, it had to be now?

“Take that back.”

“Make me. Bitch.”

His jaw clenched. “Oh. I’ll make you alright.”

That was all it took for him to lift off of you, stalking over to your bedside table. Squinting your eyes suspiciously, you tried to peek past his broad back. You only kept a few things in that drawer.

Shit.

The clink of those fuzzy blue handcuffs made both excitement and slight nervousness radiate down your body. You hardly used those since Namjoon didn’t have to do much to pin you. If he was getting them, that could only mean one thing.

“You son of a bitch!”

He had lifted the vibrator off your clit, once again denying you of your orgasm. That was number 8 and neither of you were backing down. Your brown skin was slick with sweat, as was your pussy in arousal. Your abused and overstimulated clit throbbed, begging for enough to push you over the edge but this asshole wasn’t having it.

While you were completely naked, he was still fully clothed. Something about that just got to you—the pure dominance in him still having clothes on was sexy as hell but you’d never tell him that. His own erection was painfully straining against his pants. He so badly wanted to just whip it out and fuck your gushing cunt until you were begging for him to stop. But that would be too easy. You didn’t deserve his cock nor any orgasms. Not until you said sorry.

“Apologize and I’ll let you cum.” His jaw tightened letting you know he was getting more and more irritated. Ha!

You glared at him, mentally wishing for him to burst into flames. Sadistic bastard. You’d never say it. It’s his fault for being paranoid. You weren’t about to apologize for his reaction. Your pride wouldn’t let you.

“N-never.”

He sighed before pressing the vibrator back against your clit. Your hips jerked up, hands pulling against your restraints as your orgasm rushed back to you.

This has been going on for almost an hour. Namjoon could see you were still holding strong and he hated it. He wanted you to break, wanted you to beg for his forgiveness, for you to go back to being his good girl. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just be obedient.

Ah well. He liked putting you back in your place. He signed up for it when you two started dating anyway.

“Why do you have to be such a brat? Just say you’re sorry and we can move on.”

You were so close. So so close. Every nerve in your body was set alight with pleasure and absolute malice for your boyfriend. You were a brat? Why was he such a controlling piece of shit?

“Fuck you.” You gritted out.

He took the vibrator away again, your orgasm fading once more. You slumped back against the bed, chest heaving and stubbornness starting to fade.

Maybe you should just apologize. It’s not like you’d actually mean it. It would just stroke this sadistic motherfucker’s ego and make him feel like he has some power over you.

Turning off the vibrator, he tossed it to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. The action itself was way sexier than it was. Was he finally about to fuck you? That would make you cum instantly.

No, he wouldn’t. He knew you came super easily from penetration. If you knew him like you think you did, you know he wasn’t giving up.

His hard cock sprung out of his pants. Your lust filled eyes locked on it. God, why did he have to be this way? You were already thirsty for him, you only wanted his cock. So why did he think you wanted to screw every man you came across?

He stroked his cock a few times, yet another action that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.

Gripping the back of your thigh, he pushed it into your body, your other following out of instinct. He smirked at your movement and you wanted to kick him in his face.

Lining up with your hole, he began pushing inside. Your back arched at the wide intrusion, relief flooding you at finally having his cock stretch you.

But when you didn’t feel the rest of his cock inside, you lifted your head. It looked like he was struggling himself, breathing out a shaky breath at your tight walls. You were a brat but you had the best pussy he’s ever had.

“What the hell…..?”

He lifted his head to look at your desperate and confused face. Hook, line and sinker. You were too easy.

“You don’t deserve my whole cock. If you don’t want to apologize, I’m not gonna give it to you.”

“So you’re just gonna give me the tip?! You bastard!” You tried to kick your legs but he held them in place.

Best believe, he wanted nothing more than to bury his cock in your slick walls and pound you through the mattress but he had a lesson to teach. You couldn’t keep getting away with this behavior.

A few small thrusts and he already felt ready to bust.

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to sink deeper but he backed up to keep just the tip inside of you.

“You ass! What the hell is your problem?”

“Apologize. Last chance.”

Your blood boiled in your veins. You wanted to cum so badly but you refused to say you were sorry. You’ve had enough of this ass pushing you around.

But……………

His head hung low as he thrusted a few more times, one stroke going just a little bit deeper and brushing past your sweet spot.

Fuck this!

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry okay?”

That grin was back. Easy work.

He adjusted himself before ramming his entire cock into your walls. His fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to bruise.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

You didn’t even have the nerve to retort. All you could focus on was the feeling of his cock. Your orgasm was right there once again and you were confident you’d finally reach it.

A sudden pain to your breast caused your back to arch. You lifted your head just as it happened again.

Namjoon twisted your nipple between his fingers, the sharp pain only adding to the thick haze of pleasure.

“See how good it feels when you just do what I say? Say you’re sorry again.”

He twisted your nipple again, your mouth opening to scream out an, “Sorry! I’m so sorry!!”

“Good girl.”

Picking up the vibrator again, he clicked it to its highest setting before pressing it back on your clit, his hips still delivering deep strokes to your fluttering walls.

Your throat ached from the Bloody Mary scream you let out. Tears pricked at your waterline, your chest feeling tight as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had slammed into you.

Your legs kicked sporadically, hips bucking as you humped against the toy. Black dots danced in front of your vision as you rode out the almost endless orgasm. The first one didn’t even have a chance to come down before you were floating into the next one.

Namjoon cursed as you squeezed him impossibly tight, little droplets of liquid hitting his pelvis.

The hand that wasn’t holding the toy went to wrap around your throat, shaking you a little and forcing you to focus on him.

“Whose pussy is this?” He needed to hear you say it.

Your mouth dropped open but no words came out. Tears streaked down your face, your mascara getting all messed up.

You were perfection to him. His perfect little toy.

His fingers pushed down over your pulse point before he asked you again, “I asked you a question.” He growled. The headboard was crashing into the wall, leaving an indent you’d complain about tomorrow but he didn’t care. He’d just fuck that out of you too.

“Yours! It’s yours! I’m sorry!” You slurred, yet another orgasm coursing through you, your toes curling hard enough to crack. You didn’t even think you were still in your body. Your mind was somewhere else. That let you know that he had effectively fucked you dumb.

“That’s right. It’s mine. Don’t you forget it. Now thank me for my cock.” He pressed the toy harder on your clit, thrusts speeding up. If not for the handcuffs and his hold on your throat, you would have been slammed through the wall.

“T-thank you, thank you, thank you! Fuhhhhhhhhh—uuuuccckkkk….”

With one last vice like squeeze of your walls, Namjoon pulled out of you, releasing your neck to pump his cock over your stomach. Hot splashes of his release painted your brown skin, your eyes falling shut at the sensation.

Your legs fell from their folded position, your body squirming away from the vibrator. Namjoon clicked it off before dropping it to the ground with a loud thud.

Both of your chests heaved from exertion, your body still twitching in the aftershocks. You felt ready to pass out.

Namjoon stared down at you—your belly covered in his cum and your skin already darkening just a little from his grip on you.

You couldn’t see his smirk but it was there.

You were his. And it would stay that way.

[sunflowerskies00]

sun to me, part 3

but she was layin' there across me

series masterlist

I hated syllabus week. Don't get me wrong, the lake of homework was great, but sitting there and listening to professors go through the syllabus page by page when I could just go through it on my own and not have to come to class, was torture. Literal torture. I sit there pretending I'm looking at the syllabus when I'm really doing anything else on my laptop that's open in front of me.

By the time I get through my second and last class of the day, I'm heading to my car as fast as humanly possible. I felt like my brain was mush, not because we did anything remotely close to learning, but because if I had to hear the words deadlines, and final papers, one more time, I was going to lose my shit. It was the first day of the semester, and I didn't want to be thinking about the giant ass papers I'd have to write come the end of November.

I get home as I get a text from Luke telling me he'd be there in ten minutes. I dump my backpack in my room and toss my car keys onto my desk before going back downstairs. The only one of my roommates that's here is Lindsey. Ava and Josie both have class until later on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"Ready for your date?" Lindsey teases as I slide my Birkenstocks back onto my feet.

"Not a date," I point a finger at her.

"Right," she nods. "Does your brother know you're spending the afternoon with his friend and former teammate?"

"Also no, he doesn't need to know what I'm doing," I say. My phone buzzes with a text from Luke saying he's here. "I gotta go," I look back up to Lindsey.

"Have fun on your date," She calls as I walk out the front door.

"Not a date!" I yell as the door closes behind me.

Luke is looking at his phone when I pull open the passenger door of his car and climb inside.

"Hey," I smile at him as I pull the buckle across me. He smiles back at me. "Are you going to tell me what we're doing yet?" I ask him as he backs out of my driveway.

"That would ruin the surprise."

"What if I hate surprises?" I ask.

"Do you?"

"Not the good kind." He just shakes his head at me.

"How's your brother?" He glances over at me.

"Ew, you want to talk about Ethan?" there's a hint of amusement in my voice. I don't give him a chance to respond, instead answering his question. "He's fine," I shrug. "We don't really talk about anything important ever," I explain. It's not that I don't like talking to my brother, I do, it's just that we really don't talk that often when we're at school. We're both super busy and staying in touch just doesn't become a priority, which is unfortunate because as much as I love to hate on Ethan, he's my best friend.

"Why didn't you go to U Mich?" He asks me. Everyone's favorite question to ask me. Especially people who knew Ethan, he'd tell them that U Mich was my original plan and that I ditched him for the East Coast.

"I was going to," I start. "It was my plan, I liked it, Ethan was there, I could play hockey, but then Garden State offered me a full ride, and they have a better women's hockey program than Michigan, so I decided to come here instead," I give him the quick explanation.

"Are you going to keep playing after college?" He asks.

"I don't know, it wasn't something that I had ever even thought about until last year. It wasn't even an option until last year. Ethan brings it up all the time actually, but I don't know if I want to keep playing after college to be completely honest," It was the first time I had actually said that out loud, and to Luke of all people.

"Then don't, it's your life, you don't have to keep playing hockey just because people think you should. If you have other plans or whatever, then who cares." Me, that's who cares. I feel like I'd be letting people down. I don't say that thought, that conversation is far too heavy for someone I've just become friends with. So I shrug and nod in response. He pulls into a parking lot and I look at the building, raising an eyebrow at him.

"We're mini-golfing?" I ask him.

"Why not," he lifts a shoulder in response.

"This feels awfully date-like," I climb out of the car.

"Nope, you said not a date, this is just me making sure you don't rot away doing homework or freeze at the ice rink," he smiles. I roll my eyes, but can't help the smile that creeps onto my face.

__

After I absolutely demolish Luke in mini-golf, we end up at some little sports bar place to get food.

"You definitely cheated," Luke says for the 100th time since we left mini golfing.

"You are a sore loser," I point my finger at him. "I didn't cheat, I'm just that good. Or maybe you just suck at mini golf."

"Please, I'm so good at mini golfing, that's why I'm saying you cheated."

"If it helps your fragile little male ego, then sure, I cheated." He just shakes his head at that.

By the time Luke pulls back into my driveway, it's dark out, which is when I actually look at the clock and realize that I have been hanging out with him for 7 hours. My roommates were going to have a field day with this.

"Thanks for this," I wave my hand in a vague gesture. "I had a lot of fun," I smile at him.

"Anytime, you're pretty good company Edwards," He grins, calling me by my last name, something most people who knew my brother only called him.

"I'm gonna go before the tirade of roommates come out, but we should do this again sometime," I open the door, ready to call it a night.

"Sure, I'll text you," the smile doesn't leave his face, and he sits in the driveway until I open my front door and step inside.

[chiiyuuvv]

kei as a boyfriend ¡! ❞

bf!kei x fem!reader 0.5k words requested

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

From all the videos I have watched, I find that Kei is a very caring, older brother to the other members. He is very attentive around them and does his best to make sure everyone is included in their various activities. I have also noticed that kei enjoys a good laugh. Maybe one of the boys has said something that they didn’t find too appealing, but if kei were to hear it, he’d bust a gut for days. I can tell that kei has a sense of pride whenever he’s with his members, and it’s super sweet to watch <3

If kei was your boyfriend, I think he would..

tease you. I think his teasings would be the same as how he teases his members. You remember when kei had shown his lockscreen of a pouting nico on live when the latter said something via chat? He’d do something along the lines with you, bringing up something from the past that you’ve totally forgotten about. He’s trying to keep you on your toes, in a way, but when he’s able to succeed, the prize is glorious: the look on your face and how your stutters for a comeback turn into losing all of your words in the process. He thinks it's so hilarious, and I could definitely see him turning that into his new lockscreen to tease you in front of everyone. But don’t do the same thing back to him, or else he’ll turn red from embarrassment, and end up whining about how unfair it is that you treated him like this. Meanie

stare at your baby photos with a pout. Maybe it’s the older brother in him, (or maybe it’s just me writing) but he adores watching the members grow up to become the people they are today, and the same goes for you. But since you’re dating him, he’s going to find whatever you do cute nevertheless. So when he finds your baby pictures.. He loses it :)) Acts as if he’s going to toss and turn and combust at how CUTE you looked in your little dress, your eyes barely catching the camera while some drool escapes your lips, he’d almost end up crying on how endearing this is for soft lil ‘ol kei

give you his clothes & vice versa. There might be the chance that you’re bigger than him in size or/and length, so I could absolutely see him wanting to switch clothes for a day. Why so? He just thinks it’s fun, especially if you have the same clothing style. In a way, whenever he’s shopping for new clothes, he’s shopping for two, but it's inexpensive since you’re going to be wearing the same thing. He also loves that he can smell you in his shirt, or that you could smell him through your clothes. It’s like a special hug for when the other isn’t around.

If you ever decide to become kei’s girl, please always remember that he loves you dearly, and he thinks about you often. Because he’s trying to find something else to tease you about? What? Nooo, he’d never ;) <3

︴bonus! im so fr i always smile when kei is on the screen bc he always try to make everyone included and it melts my heart like :((

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