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cheriladycl01 · 9 months

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Best Secret Santa - The Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: in which everyone wants to have Y/N as their secret Santa because she is the best gift giver and never fails to make peoples day by going above and beyond for it!

2017

“So Y/N this is the first year of Secret Santa, how excited are you!” The F1 interviewer asks!

“I’m so excited! I love gift gifting it’s one of my love languages to show people that I know them, and I listen to them!”

“Okay are you ready to open your gift then?” She asks pushing forward a small bag that had presents wrapped up very nicely inside. You take the bag and look at the wrapping paper, it was well wrapped and good quality.

You open the first which feels as if it could be a wooden box but doesn’t really indicate what it could be.

You see that you were correct and a wooden box with your favourite paint brand is there on the top. You unclip the clasp that’s holding the lid down seeing the various paints.

“Oh this is a good present, but not many people know that I paint on the grid.

“Who knows you paint in the grid?” She asks you.

“Hmmm Romain Grosjean, K Mag, Kimi”

“So do you think it could be one of them?”

“Maybe… potentially Kimi, he knows me very well and has really helped me as a Red Bull Junior Driver and in my Rookie Year this Year”

“I think if you open the second present you’ll know who your secret Santa is” she explains and you take the second present of the table, it was pretty weighty but not as heavy as the paints.

“This feels like a book, like a hard back” you say as you start to tear into it. And it was, it was the Romain Grosjean book.

“It’s Romain!! He’s my Secret Santa?” You look at the F1 with a massive wide grin making her smile back at her!

“Wait, come with me” she becons the lady and camera crew to follow her. She walks through the building they are all in, in Abu Dhabi until she finds Romain.

“Romain, Romain wait up wait up” you shout running after him making the camera crew follow!

“Ahhh i see you received my gift!” He exclaims and she pulls him into a thankful hug.

“Please can you sigh it Mr Grosjean, I’m a huge fan of your work in Haas!” You exclaim, handing him a pen making him chuckle but still sign the book he gifted to you!

“Thank you for you time” you giggle before the cameras cut, and they decide to do Romains secret Santa while he is there.

*Flip*

“And now we are here with Lewis Hamilton who we’ve interrupted from getting ready for his Mercedes After Party for his 4 time world championship” the F1 lady smiles at Lewis Hamilton and he kindly smiles back.

“So your Secret Santa went all out, we’ve had to set the cameras a little further back and you’ve got some sizeable gifts here but they requested you read the card first”

“Holy shit” Lewis says as they start to bring in a huge box (big enough to fit the likes of Toto Wolff inside) followed by a smaller bag to the left that had three neatly wrapped presents inside.

“Who, what the fuck” Lewis says looking at the camera as if he was on the office. He looks at the F1 presenter who just shrugs her shoulders and waits for him to open the card.

“Dear Lewis, Here are 4 gifts to commemorate your 4 World Championships! Have a great winter season, and here’s to many more championships ahead! Love, Your Secret Santa” he reads seeing the little doodles inside the card.

“Any ideas on who it could be” she asks.

“No clue, everyone on the grid would know how many championships I’ve won, so this doesn’t give away much” he offers with a laugh. He grabs the bag wanting to leave the big present till last.

“Ohhh a Vegan Cook book, so they know I’m Vegan and a Japan Fridge Magnet. Okay so this is either Max or Y/N as they shared a podium with me, I’m sure off it!” He grins before taking the next present out the bag.

“What is this” he says unwrapping a rather small but oddly shaped present.

“Oh that’s so cute it’s a Dog Collar for Roscoe! Wait, holy shit it’s personalised from Dior. Surely this can’t be Max, is it Max?” He asks and the F1 presenter just shrugs.

“Thank you, this honestly is very thoughtful as Roscoe is one of my favourite things and I love the brand and wear it all the time!” He grins.

“Okay, how about we attempt to open this bigger present. I don’t actually know how you’ll get this through customs”

“I’m scared to see what it is” Lewis laughs before tearing the box open. Inside is a surfboard that is hand painted on either side with Lewis car and many other little doddles to cover the board that has something to do with Lewis.

“Oh woah a custom made board, this must have been really expensive to have made” he says observing it before picking out all the different doodles and talking about them.

“It’s not custom made, your Secret Santa actually Hand Painted this themselves” Lewis head snaps away from the board to look at the presenter in shock.

“Oh it’s got to be Y/N”

“That is correct”

“Y/N you are the cutest. I will use this board today here in Abu Dhabi before I make good use of it in the off season! I’ve never actually had anything like this before so thank you so much, you are so very thoughtful and you have the kindest soul! Thank you for everything and I hope to share a podium with you in 2018” he smiles grinning before turning his attention back to the surfboard.

2018

“Hello Y/N it is now November 2018, after the final Grand Prix of the 2018 season. So you know what time that is!” The F1 presenter asks.

“SECRET SANTA!” You scream, pulling forward the presents, there was a medium sized box in front of you.

“Can I start”

“Of course”

You pulled the lid of the box off and immediately gasp at the first thing that isn’t wrapped that you can see what it is!

“Oh my lord, how - I’ve been needing new camera lenses and a case for mine! I take pictures of everyone around the paddock! So it could be anyone, but I was talking to Max, Pierre and Dani about needing new lenses …” you admit looking to see if the F1 presenter would give you a reactionary hint.

“Oh and there’s a small envelope. I hope you enjoy this retreat with your new lenses, maybe gain a new perspective before 2019” you read out before out of the envelope you pull out flight tickets, and a small cabin hotel booking confirmation for Italy.

“No no no stop this is too much” you say tears filling up in your eyes.

“Who do you think it is” the F1 presenter asks.

“It’s Dani Ric” you cry, the words coming out strained as you look around to see if he is watching you.

“How’d you know” she asks.

“Because we had a talk about how I felt shit about this season and that the Torro Rosso wasn’t built well this year. And how him leaving Red Bull wasn’t an easy choice but it was one he had to make” you sob. The presenter comes over and pull you into a comforting hug rubbing your back and you hug into her more.

“Hey Squirt” an Australian accent comes from behind you and you fling yourself off the presenter and turn to look at the reason for your tears.

“You made me cry on camera” you say pointing to the camera and then your gifts.

“Aw I’m glad you like them! I was worried I hadn’t done well enough!” He grins rubbing your head before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love them! And I’ll do better next year for you! I promise” you smile and he grins back at you!

*Flip*

“Hello Charles, how are you!”

“I am very good thank you. I see that there is a lot of presents here, all varying in size and it worries me. This is my first year and I don’t know many people that well!” He says looking between all the presents.

“Well here’s the card that came with it” she says passing over the red envelope that he opens the second his gets his hands on it.

“Dear Charlie, hmmm there’s not many that call me Charlie. Amazing first year in Alfa Romeo, can’t wait to see what you do in Ferrari” he reads out thinking of who it could be.

“It’s Y/N for sure. Between the amount of presents here and the note saying Charlie it must be her!” He exclaims before tearing into his first present. There were Alfa Romeo socks, with little jelly snake candies.

“Ah to remember my time in Alfa Romeo, these Candies actually look so good! Thank you!” He says observing the candies.

“This box is small, but heavy” he observes before pulling out a watch box.

“Oh my god, it’s a Ferrari watch. Look at this beauty! I will wear this now I think” He offers showing the camera the Ferrari official watch you’d got him. He places it on his wrist, looking at it before grinning and showing the camera.

“Okay this next one looks very very big, and oh it’s super heavy. I don’t even think I can lift that up”

He starts to tear off the paper, showing a cardboard box with a stamp on top, of what Charles assumed to be the place she’d got it from.

“Antiques Auction House? What is that?” He asks not knowing.

“It’s a place you bid to get rare objects” the F1 presenter grins and Charles looks up in shock. He carefully takes the tape off the lid and pulls the heavy hunk of metal out of the box. He pulls down the bubble wrap to reveal a Ferrari paddock sign.

“Is this real?” He gasps looking it over.

“Yes, maybe take a look at the race it’s from and the year” the presenter asks pushing him to look at the front a little closer.

“Monza 1996, that’s the year I was born! This gift, is so thoughtful and I will put it in my apartment where my sim is so everyone is able to see it when they come over! Hopefully this will bring me luck in Ferrari and in Monza next year so thank you Y/N”

He picks up the next gift which is small and flimsy. He immediately thinks it’s clothing.

As he tears open he holds up the t-shirt bursting out laughing looking at both sides.

On the front it was a radio from his that year printed on saying “woHooooo, Oh Yes! That feels good! - France 2018” and on the back there were words that were printed on there saying “Ask me what happened in France 2018” as a funny sexual innuendo from how crude the radio has sounded with no context behind it!

“This is hilarious and Y/N never fails with these joke gifts. That’s something I’ve noticed, I know this has only been done 2 years now but last year she had two jokey gifts for Lewis and 2 really nice thoughtful ones. This year I have similar! She’s a really good gift giver! She goes above and beyond!”

“She really does! I always get excited, just to see what Y/N gets her Secret Santa each year!”

“I think after this, if they didn’t before, everyone wants her as their gift giver!”

“Okay last gift Charles”

He open up to see a plastic CD cover, decorated by Y/N. He opens it up seeing a note inside.

“For when you finally record something on the piano” he looks up at the presenter and he shows her the cute cover the artistic grid member has designed.

“This is beautiful and I will fill it with tracks I will share with you Y/N thank you again and Merry Christmas Cheri!” He grins.

Y/N definitely spend over her own private budget this secret Santa but she couldn’t help having a small crush on the Alfa Romeo, future Ferrari boy.

2019

“Y/N, you know it’s my favourite time of the year just because you are here serving us once again with your amazing and seemingly limitless gift giving skills. I do have to ask how did you get that Monza pit board”

“Well, my dad is good friends with a Motorsport enthusiast, who has an auction house for Motorsports and Cars, and I won it in August, and was going to give it to Charles as an end or year well done/ Christmas present, but when I got him for secret Santa it made sense to put it in his gifts” you explain.

“Amazing okay so here are you presents for the 2019 season!”

“Oh my gosh I know who this is already! It’s K Mag” you exclaims seeing the pottery set! You’d been saying to him how you wanted to start getting into pottery and how you’d just brought one of the proper stoves to bake them in.

“We spoke about this before, and of course this Metallica Funko Pop would have given it away if the pottery didn’t! Omg I can’t wait to make you and your wife a vase! Thank you so much! I will bring it with me at the start of next season!” You exclaim looking in awe at the two presents in front of you!

*Flip*

“Lance Stroll, I think this year might be your lucky year, you’ve got a decent size bag with three presents” the presenter says cheerfully making Lance smile back.

“I’m excited to see what’s been brought for me! Okay first one obviously we have to open the card and see the message.

“Dear Lance, Starting as rookies together was so much fun! Beating you was even better! Oh it’s either Y/N or Gasly, we all had our rookie year together in 2017!” He exclaims before pulling out the first present which was another envelope.

“You know this is gonna be a voucher of some kind or like, a this was supposed to be your present but it’s not here. What could it be!” He asks opening it up.

“Tennis lessons … WITH ANDY MURRAY? It’s gotta be Y/N right? They are both from the UK, and I’m guessing someone she knows him? How the hell does she know him?” He laughs, he was really into tennis, if he ever had to quit motorsport he would got to tennis as his secondary option.

“This is amazing, thank you Y/N” he smiles genuinely.

“I think him and Y/N were invited to meet the Queen. She wanted to meet Y/N for breaking records around women in motorsport. They’ve played tennis together and she’s driven him round Aintree in her Lamborghini”

“Woah that’s crazy, so they are like friends? Well thank you Y/N and Andy watch out coz I’m coming for you!” He says as he reaches for the next present which is very badly wrapped.

“I think this just be the joke present she gets alongside her good ones” he says shaking it nothing giving away what it could be. He rips it open, to find a mug and a bottle of maple syrup!

“Ah yes as a true Canadian, maple is necessary! And oh a mug”

“Turn it round Lance, what does it say?” Laughs the presenter not actually knowing this was one of the presents.

“It says Daddies Little Boy” he laughs, knowing the joke in the paddock that he wouldn’t ever loose his seat in F1 until he no longer wanted to race.

“That’s hilarious, thank you Y/N I’ll be sure to show my dad this one. Okay onto the last”

He opens it up seeing a James Bond Limited Edition, signed Car from the movies in a mini form.

“It’s so funny, me and Y/N have arguments about this all the time. So they basically got her in Casino Royale as a stunt driver for one scene as she looks like Eva Green from the back. So she will always say that Casino Royale is the best Bond film, but I disagree I think it’s Quantum of Solace! Thank you Y/N for all of this! I can’t wait for my Tennis lessons!”

2020

“What a year it’s been with this virus Y/N and what a stressful year it has been for you drivers. However you’ve had some amazing drives, you had your first win this year with the new name for Toro Rosso under AlphaTauri! And we couldn’t be happier for you. But, your moving up the ranks aren’t you!” The presenter grins happily.

“Yes as of 2021 I will stay in the Red Bull family but move alongside Max into the Red Bull Racing Honda team!” You exclaim! You were so happy to have been given the chance and had worked your but of last year in AlphaTauri coming P5 in the drivers championship. Christian Horner came to you and offered you the seat as you’d done better in the Tauri than Alex in the Red Bull.

“This is just amazing news for you Y/N and we are excited to see what you can do alongside Max Verstappen in 2021!”

“Okay here are you presents for this year!” She says, you pull your mask up a little as it had dropped down as you were talking it repositioning it up and in the correct way.

“These feel like drinks?” You question as you shake the box, when you peel it down you burst out laughing at the crate of Red Bulls in front of you. Everyone knew you were moving to Red Bull so this could literally be anyone.

“Oh my gosh, and Lego Star Wars! LOOK ITS THE FALCON” you yell excitedly. During COVID, you’d streamed alongside Alex, Charles, Lando and George as you liked playing games already and it was more fun with your friends. But you also did streams where you’d answer questions while building Lego’s.

“Guys, Christmas Falcon building stream??” You ask wiggling your eyebrows, however you didn’t know if they’d be able to see them with the Santa hat currently on top of your head.

“Who did you think it is?” The presenter asks.

“I feel like this one is so hard this year, everyone knows I’m moving to RedBull and everyone knew I streamed, and my love for Star Wars” you sigh, a hand rising up to your face in a thinking motion.

“It’s gotta be someone kind and funny. Lando? NO? hmmmm …Dani Ric again? No? Pierre Gasly? NO? Oh my lord, erm I’m not sure who is it??” You ask genuinely having no clue!

“It was George Russell!” She exclaims and you grin widely!

“Thank you so much George! I really appreciate this and I hope you drop in the steam where I’m building it!”

*Flip*

“Max, what a year it’s been for you! Between some amazing races and coming P3, what can we expect from you in 2021”

“Becoming a world champion for sure, I think Y/N moving over to redbull at this time in my career is exactly what I need. She was giving me a run for my money in a mid field car this year, pushing it to its limits every race and outperforming the car. I think she’s going to be competitive and push me further as both a teammate and a rival. I’m excited to have her on board” he smiles nodding.

“Okay so here’s your presents, they are numbered in the order you have to open them in!” She says pushing them forward.

“Okay present one, oh what is this OMG tickets to Moto GP. Beside F1 that is my favourite sport! And it’s during the summer break, that’s incredible! Thank you so much! There’s two so that means I can take a friend I presume! Can I take the gifter?” He asks looking at the F1 presenter who nods, knowing you most likely wouldn’t turn that down.

“Next one! Oooo woah, this is nice, look at this. This one here is me in, Malaysia I think. My first ever face win! Austria in 2018 is here, you can see the Bulk from the Red Bull Ring, oh and here is I think this must be my win in Brazil last year I want to say? And then Abu Dhabi from this year? That race was only yesterday, how did they… this has to be Y/N I don’t know any other person who is this good at art” he says pointing the painted canvas.

“Okay, this is the last one, so this has to be her joke one right?” He asks looking towards the people.

“Read the note here first, now that you’ve worked out who it is” she smiles pushing the letter forward.

“Dear Max, I can’t wait to drive alongside you next year. Or maybe in front of you, we’ll just have to wait and see. Y/N

“I am very excited to drive with her next season. It’s going to be a very close season with the changes I’m sure will occur” he says as he starts to pull from the bag.

“A Y/N pillow, this will travel with me as a travel pillow! Oh and a Y/N signed red bull cap. You’ll be signing a lot more of these next year, but I’m honoured to get the first ever one!” He smiles nodding before looking at the camera for them to stop rolling.

2021

“Y/N, what an amazing year you’ve had a RedBull, coming in P3 and winner the constructors championship for Red Bull, how has the year been?”

“Yeah it’s been phenomenal, driving with Max has really made me push myself to the limits. I think I’m still warming up in the Red Bull this seasons and I made some mistakes which I’ve been focusing on improving each race and I think you can see that in my performance in the second half of the season. I’m thankful to max for pushing me to be a better driver and I’m excited for 2022 with Red Bull, and Honda!”

“Obviously it’s our favourite time of the year! And we are going to be opening some presents!” She says pushing forward a small box. You grin looking at the very precise and very neat wrapping.

You open the box to find one of those cute adopt a penguin with the little plushie.

“Awww it’s so cute!” You exclaims holding up the little penguin.

“And I think there’s a note in there about something else” the F1 presenter directs.

“Hello Y/N it’s your fav mentor. Join me to meet this penguin on a Antártica cruise! K.R”

“KIMI, KIMI, KIMI! No this is too much!” You say looking at the presenter in panic.

“Your idol wants to go on holiday with you! How do you feel”

“Blessed! I’m so happy! I can’t wait to go see the penguins with you Kimi!” You smile, hugging the penguin plushie close to your chest.

*Flip*

“Lando, you’ve got some large gifts here”

“Yeah it’s Y/N” Lando immediately says looking at the wide array of gifts.

“You haven’t even opened at them yet” she laughs.

“No I know Y/N and she’s the only one that puts THIS extensive effort into this! I’ve nailed it tho saying it’s Y/N” he smirks.

“Okay what have we got here” he says picking up the first which is a thinly wrapped envelope.

“Spa vouchers …” he says before shaking his head trying not to laugh and look mock angry.

“I crash in spa, and this is what I get… thanks Y/N. Oh there’s three vouchers. You can Max Fewtrell can come with me. Oh and some … Valorant lessons? Are you saying I’m bad at Valorant, just because your a sweat and your like Ascendent or some shit!” He grins out.

He grabs the next box, small yet heavy. He opens it seeing McLaren x Richard Mille.

“A watch! Woah this … I’m so happy to add this to my collection!”

“And it’s the only one ever made!” The presenter adds making him gasp and look underneath the watch at the engraving. A blush comes onto his face thanking the girl for the watch.

“Okay big box next!” He grins tearing into it.

“Oh Y/N! Y/N” he says with a hand slapped to his mouth.

“Wait no stop” he says pulling the personalised helmet she made him with a note explaining it was for a good start to 2022.

“Thank you Y/N and I can’t wait to wear this next year it’s amazing!” He smiles showing it to the camera finding more and more funny things to laugh to himself about that were inside jokes between the pair of you.

2022

“Y/N the fight between you Max and Charles was so close this year, and you only were a few points behind Charles in the end, taking a storm of a constructors win for Red Bull, so do think you and Charles will have a chance in 2023”

“Yea of course! I’ve renewed my contract with Red Bull until 2025, so I’m very excited at what it will bring!”

“As usual it’s time for the best part of the season! Secret Santa, let’s see what you’ve got this year!” She directs pushing forward the presents in front.

“A bottle of Sake! This will be from Mr Yuki Tsunoda, a Japanese delicacy that he introduced me to this year at the Grand Prix! Thank you Yuki! We’ll have to drink this together!” You smile before going to the next present.

“Oh my gosh, a Bonsai and new tools! This is perfect for my garden in London! Look I have to show you!” She smiles showing the F1 presenter pictures of her garden going off on a rant of where she could place the new bonsai.

“Thank you so much Yuki! Can’t wait to race with you in 23” you smile at the camera.

*Flip*

“Alex! Hopefully Williams has been treating you well” the interviewer smiles happily.

“It has, I think I got a lot out of the car this year which they can learn from in the future! It’s been a year of learning for all of us and we’re happy with the improvements we made” he smiles.

“Well it’s Secret Santa time. Here are your gifts”

“This first one feels like a shirt” he admits feeling up the packaging. He opens it and unfolds the top laughing at what was on the front putting it down and laughing into his hands.

“Show us what you got Alex” she asks. He holds up the gifted top that’s a picture of you and Lily holding hands walking through the paddock looking at each other loving. Above the picture in writing says ‘this woman stole my girlfriend’.

“Lily will force me to wear this, I know it and she will agree with it and come running to the menace of a Secret Santa that gifted this to me! Thank you Y/N” he smiles charmingly at the camera.

“Okay, up next oh? Private golf lessons, with Lily at Hotchkin Course. It says here’s the course is ours for the whole day! Woah, not only will I appreciate that but Lily will also enjoy that day out! Thank you so so much Y/N as usual you are the best!”

“Hand painted golf balls, oh look so this one has the Thai flag on it, this one has the Williams logo on it, this one has a Lily flower on it, okay that’s cute! Look at this detail” he says holding the ball up close to the camera!

“This is perfect! Thank you Y/N and have an amazing Christmas”

2023

"Y/N you and Max have had an amazing season this year and have dominated formula one in Red Bull. You came P2 in the championship, not too far behind Max who won his 3rd championship!"

"Yes, its been an amazing year for us and I'm hoping that next year it will be me winning the Championship!" you grin looking at the presenter.

"Okay, so its the 7th year of Secret Santa on the grid! Are you excited! Because i am!" she says shoving the small bag towards you. You grin excited.

"Yes, okay so ooooo, I know who this is straight away and I think the fans are going to be really happy over this" you grin after you'd peeled the bag back seeing the first gift that was unwrapped and open for the eye to see.

You pull the object out showing hair bleach, toner and little tools and foils, and a note saying that you'll both dye it together and be matching blondes.

You show the camera, knowing fans will not only go wild for blonde Alex, but wild for you finally going blonde after saying for months that you would.

"This is a great gift, and we are going to get Lily to do this for us together!" you smile, before dipping into the bag and pulling the next gift out.

"Steal my GF coupons! OMG finally thank you Alex, i can finally get MY girlfriend Lily back. Guy's seriously when you next pan to her when she's in the paddock, please caption her as Lily Professional Golfer and Partner of Red Bull Driver Y/N Y/L/N. Please I'm begging you!" she laughs and the presenter writes something down on her phone.

"Thank you Alex for these amazing gifts and I will be sure to use both the coupons and the hair dye!" you grin, observing the contents of the hair dye.

"This is a good brand no? Lily must do a good job" you nod, hoping that Lily knows how to dye hair considering Alex's looked good the last time he had it done.

"Yes, its what they use for most of the KPOP Idols in Korea, you know how they dye their hair lots? This is what they use in order to keep it really nice and smooth"

*FLIP*

"Okay, here we have our all time favrioute Daniel Ricciardo, so happy to have seen you driving for AlphaTauri this year. Hopefully 2024 will be a good season for you and we can get some podiums back up there!" she smiles at Daniel who has his typical huge smile back.

"Thank you, lets get down to the real reason we are here! I want to see the presents whoever this is"

"Okay, so ooo a bike helmet. Hmmmm I've been saying to a few on the grid that i need a new one, but this is a really good brand. Okay next one" he smiles moving the bike helmet to one side.

"Ohhhh what the hell, someone has got me Talladega Nights, but they've photoshopped me into Ricky Bobby's place. Look at this. Did you guys get Jensen Button to join in this year?" he laughs showing the camera, the photoshopped version of the popular film among the drivers.

"That's really funny so i bet its got to be one of the young one. Maybe Lando? Or Y/N? or even Oscar my Aussie brother?" he says observing the disk before placing it against the bike helmet leaving it on show.

"A honey badger plushie... okay this is Y/N Lando no way would get me a plushie thats this cute" he jokes.

"Okay last one, holy shit. Do you know how the hell she managed to pull some of these gifts off?? I swear she's the actual St Nick sometimes!" he says looking at his final present. It was an envelope explaining something that you would do for him.

"So she's booked a venue, for her and Heidi in Milan to do a fashion show of my new clothes line that I’ve made in-front of anyone who wants to attend… that’s so thoughtful. Thank you Y/N I’m sure you and Heidi will look amazing on the runway! Thank you and see you on the track more next year!” He smiles.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall@sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me

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stall1iion · 2 months

Text

champion's love - eight

Content Warning: the following chapter is intended for mature audiences only, contains strong language and profanity that may not be suited for children and sensitive adults. I will mark when the smut starts and ends for those who wish not to read that part. Thank you.

tags: smut, needy max, equally needy reader, teasing/banter

Minors dni!! Warnings below!!

warnings: cunnilingus, p in v, dirty talk

liked by maxverstappen1, bsf1, bsf2, victoriassecret and many others

y/nofficial thank you Victoria Secret for allowing me to showcase your newest summer bikini! Link in my link tree, get 30% off using my code!

tagged: victoriassecret

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username9 HELLO?? THE BODY IS T 😫😍

username2 😫can max fight??

username34 the way my jaw just dropped

username123 why did she think anyone would want to see her skinny ass? It’s barely giving curvy

⤷username55 first of all, she’s an athlete, of course she’s going to be skinny and lean, second that gives you no right to talk about her body like that, it’s giving jealous

ynsteponme: y/n could run me over, beat me with a bat, set me on fire, please just do anything to me i really don’t care

⤷username99 literally so down bad for her

landonorris you look gorgeous.

⤷y/nofficial i appreciate this, but i post for the bad bitches only.

⤷landonorris i am the bad bitch you speak of.

⤷y/nofficial my bad gang 💪

username1 just looked at myself and sighed

username78 max watch out bc you and i are not friends

⤷username45 so we all in love with y/n right?

⤷username8 of course we are!

⤷username7 i mean LOOK at her 😻max can’t handle all that fr

maxverstappen1 GOD DAMN

⤷bsf2 HELLO??

⤷bsf1 my brother in christ…😀

⤷OscarPiastri oh he’s down bad…

⤷danielricciardo oh max…

⤷georgerussell63 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

⤷charlesleclerc why have you never publicly declared your love for me?

⤷y/nofficial charles your not beating the lestappen accusations, my dear

username59 BRO MAX’S COMMENT?? 😭

lilymhe it should be illegal to look this good 💗

⤷y/nofficial says you 😘🤤

⤷lilymhe don’t make me wife you up 🤭

⤷y/nofficial when’s our wedding baby?? 🤭

⤷alexalbon I will throw you in the ocean 😻

→ smut starts here

Twenty minutes later you were both amused and in disbelief when you heard the front door to Max's house open. Sitting up and turning to look at the door, you spoke before you even saw him with a laugh. “Stop, what are you doing here?”

Max let out a chuckle, getting closer to you with a grin on his lips and a fervent look in his eyes. Reaching you, he placed his hands on either side of the couch, caging you in as he looked down into your eyes. “I said I’d come and show you who bro was, didn’t I?”

“I was just joking around though” you said with a chuckle, not moving the rest of your body now as the living room felt heavy and intense.

“And I said sorry wasn’t going to save you” his face was so close to yours, literally hovering above you. “Plus, you didn’t seem against it earlier”

“Oh so you did read my message?” you raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes watching as he licked his lips at the question before looking down at your body - his shirt, one of the few that didn’t brand red bull on it at least, draped over your body for the most part. Fulfilling the objective of being oversized but tight enough that he could see the faint outline of your boobs, more than enough for his hungry eyes.

Max leaned back, opening his skirt up and exposing himself to you more, a silent confirmation that he was allowed to do what he said he would - and one he wasn’t fully sure you’d give him. He knew you were both being careless and playful, but this would be their first time together, and he didn’t want it to be the result of him pressuring you. He was fine with stopping here and cuddling if you wanted, he would deal with his own desire and they could put on a movie.

You knew he was giving you that option, that cop-out if you felt like it; but surprisingly…this process felt natural to her. No nerves, no fear, just pure attraction and desire. So after staring at his body for a while, you reached your hand out and placed your palm on his chest first, noticing how his heart pulsed against her hand rapidly with the concealed strength he had been using to control himself. Looking up at him, your hand slid up his shoulder and down his arm before wrapping around his wrist.

Slowly you guided his hand to grab your boob through the shirt. It might’ve seemed weird from anyone on the outside, but between the two of you, alone with your desires, he knew that this was you giving him that confirmation and his hand slowly grabbed at your boobs, fondling them through the shirt for a few before, albeit hesitantly, reaching under his - your shirt and feeling your bare skin.

A small shiver went up your spine at the difference in temperature, his hands just a bit colder but he seemed to be enthralled with your boobs now, a groan leaving him causing you to giggle. “What’s so funny?” he asked with a smile as he glanced up at you.

“You seem so engrossed in my boobs” you said with a smile and a chuckle and he chuckled and pulled his hands away, sliding himself in between your legs with a smile

“Their nice, saw a glimpse of them in that post of yours” he said and you chuckled, “God you're totally a tits man”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy” he said in retort and you laughed

“Are you daring me?” you asked as you looked at him before reaching and pulling your shirt up, Max finally able to see your boobs in all it’s glory and he folded like the man he is, letting out a deep groan as he looked and she laughed. “Mystery Solved!” you said, pulling the shirt back down with a shit eating grin as you looked at him and watched him run a hand through his hair.

“Don’t do this to me” he said, pushing himself against you so that you could feel his erection against your clothed pussy. “I’m not doing anything” you said with a giggle and almost in defeat, he leaned his head on your shoulder. Part of you thought he was going to beg and sat up a little straighter to pull him closer. Yet, like always, Max was unpredictable and said something she didn’t expect.

“You want this as much as I do” his head raising again and staring right into your eyes - that matched with one of his hands now being placed on your thigh, thumb caressing it softly, contradicting the needy pressure he was applying with it. It was no surprise when your body started vibrating with sensations that spread across your skin and honed into a throb, and you both crumbled at the same time.

Max lost his control first though, bringing his lips to yours, kissing you roughly like he planned on consuming you, as if he was containing an urge for too long and could do nothing but let it explode out. Your body melted as you reciprocated his kiss, his tongue grazing your lips before biting you, a whimper escaping your lips as he did so.

“You like that?” he mumbled, his hips grinding against you already, anticipating traveling throughout his body. You could only nod in affirmation as he leaned back to look at you before leaning you down onto your back, his hand sliding up your leg in the process as if in preparation.

He let his hand explore your body, moving upwards and upwards before reaching your underwear. Through it, he could feel the damp spot already seeping through, exposing how wet you were, and he let his fingers softly caress your clit with a triumphant smile. “Mystery solved” he said, throwing back your own words at you and you rolled your eyes, your back arching just a little bit. “Screw you” you managed to say between breaths as he sped up his movements.

“Oh trust me, I plan to” he replied, and the way he managed to be so cocky just intensified your need for him. As if guessing this just from your blissed expression, he pulled his hand away, accompanied by your whines as you looked to see what he was doing. His hands moving up and grabbing the band on your underwear before pulling them down, you lifting your hips to help as he slipped them off your feet and then reached for your shirt, leaving you fully naked on the couch.

“Fuck” he cursed, his cock throbing in his pants. Desperate, he almost gave up on his attempts to control himself. However, he did not want to stop teasing you, looking at your flushed cheeks and open mouth, it was worth the self control he had to possess. Looking down at your body, his eyes zeroed in on one thing he didn’t expect, a tattoo. It was on her v line, properly hidden by underwear and most outfits.

“When did you get this?” he murmured, lowering his face down as his lips hovered over it, his breath warm against your skin.

“Um…2018…after the olympics” you answered, your voice sounding out of breath as you pushed up on your elbows to watch. His lips slowly leaning down to kiss the spot. “It’s pretty” he said as he looked up at you, and god if only he knew how pretty he looked like that, his teeth grazing against it teasingly causing your breath to hitch. He chuckled before his arms linked under your legs and pulled you up to his face, glancing up at you before diving in like a starved man.

The way Max ate pussy was almost disgusting, like he was trying to suck your soul out of your body. Your hands dropped to his hair, sliding through the strands and bucking your hips up to meet his tongue. He looked ridiculously good while lapping at your pussy or sucking your clit in his mouth, his eyes shining, his hair being pushed back and the way his shoulders were wider than your hips, giving a good place to rest your legs on. You were so distracted by his looks that you only realized he had slipped a finger inside you when it curled into your cervix and you let out a loud moan.

“Can I put a second?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing your thigh as he looked up at you and you nodded, encouraging your boyfriend’s movements and easily enough, he pushed a second finger inside. His fingers curled even better as his mouth worked exclusively on your clit, his left arm reaching to press down on your hips to keep you still, making you feel his movements even more intensely. You threw your head back as you arched off the couch, your fingers keeping a merciless grip on his strands, hard enough that you might have been worried about pulling some out as he worked you up. He could feel when your legs started tensing around his neck and how your walls tightened around his fingers, both signs that you were close to release so he sped his movements. It was a particular deep stroke of his fingers to your insides that had you coming for him, your legs shook around him as you experienced an unexplainable strong orgasm. Max continued to eat you through your orgasm and it was only when he pulled away did you notice his face was covered in a transparent liquid, realizing you had squirted on him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you said, covering your face to stop the embarrassment you felt as Max sat up

“Sorry for what, baby?” he asked, kissing up your body before pushing his shirt off his shoulders, “didn’t know you could do that, huh?” he whispered into your neck and you shook your head.

“No” you said, burying your face into his neck, “it was embarrassing”

“That’s okay baby, you don’t have to apologize for that. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you look so pretty when you cum, darling” he said and you chuckled before letting out a sigh

“Still embarrassing” you said and he chuckled before leaning back and kissing your forehead.

“Whatever you say, do you still wanna continue? Or are you all good here?” he asked and you shook your head

“No- no, i can keep going” you said and he looked to make sure you were sure before he nodded

“Alright, if you say so baby” he said with a nod before unbuckling and taking off his pants. Your eyes watched religiously as you watched him kick them somewhere on the floor before grabbing his boxers, and sliding them down. You watched as it bounced back up and rested against his stomach with a small gasp before she looked up at him. “You can touch baby, only fair” he joked and you reached down, your fingers wrapping against the base before giving it a nice pump which caused him to hiss.

“Fuck” he cursed, and you stopped for maybe a split moment before he interrupted you. “No, no- keep going…it’s just, it’s been a while” he said and you nodded before you continued, jerking him off for a few moments before he stopped you, way too close and he wanted to wait. You were a little sad you weren’t able to taste him but you figured you could do it another time. He reached for his pants again, pulling out a condom from his pocket and rolling it on before he slid back in between your legs.

“You ready?” he asked and you nodded. He brought his tip to your wet pussy, sliding so well that he couldn’t help but moan. Your gasp of pleasure made it all worth it, and your cry of frustration as he pulled himself out drove him absolutely insane. The way you craved him made him dizzy, intoxicated with your drunkenness of him, having you all for himself the way you were in that moment being almost a dream. He pushed back in, his large cock filling you and the small pain from stretching was overtaken by pleasure as you felt his hips grind against yours. The rhythm was nothing like his fingers, nothing like his tongue, it was slow. He was slow, like he was savoring every moment of this.

You clenched, you squealed, begged, anything flowed out your mouth and none of it was coherent, but Max liked that. In fact, it only quickened his pace as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and moan his name.

"you're taking me so well" his voice is raspy, husk and faint. “Such a good girl…”

A moan rippled through your body at the sound of him, every thrust from him sending butterflies into your stomach until one in particular hit your cervix and you let out a cry as you came on his cock.

It takes a few more thrusts from him before he’s spilling into the condom with a low groan, his face leaning into your neck as he trembled a bit. The two of you panting and getting your breathing under control as you came down from your highs. He slips out after a few minutes, tying the condom before getting up to throw it away, and coming back with a warm wash cloth, sitting next to a relatively fucked out you and after wiping your leg to warn you, starts to clean you up, even if it’s your own fluids.

→ smut ends here

liked by maxverstappen1, bsf1, bsf2 and many others

y/n.jpg Been at home all day, Jimmy is especially obsessed with me as you can see (shoutout to waking up with sassy behind my knees)

view all comments

username7 stop 💀is she in the bath and jimmy and sassy are staring at her??

bsf2 awww look at Jimmy on your chest 🥹

maxverstappen1 tell jimmy to get out of my spot

⤷username6 hello?? 💀is he talking about your chest

⤷bsf1 ignore him, he’s different without his meds

username23 is it just me or is max and y/n like suddenly really affectionate? 🤔like no hate, I love it, it’s just a crazy shift

⤷username2 nah you're so right moot, especially max 💀were they released from pr jail or something??

⤷username4 well y/n sure as hell wasn’t 😂she’s always been unhinged, it might just be her influencing max

lilymhe never wanted to be a cat so badly

⤷y/n.jpg don’t worry baby, I got you 💋

⤷alexalbon I give up

⤷maxverstappen1 a wise choice truly

charlesleclerc how come sassy is nice to you??

⤷y/n.jpg girls just recognize girls

⤷bsf1 lies, she’s just freakishly good with animals

OscarPiastri can I pet them?

⤷y/n.jpg osc! of course you can, just tell me what day you plan to swing by bc I wanna make snickerdoodles

⤷logansargeant I heard snickerdoodles

⤷y/n.jpg 💀yes logan, you can come too i guess

→ we have a contact name change for max, goodbye max, hello maxie

→ Jimmy and Sally love their new mommy, especially Jimmy

Author’s Note!!

Hey Guys, sorry about the wait for this chapter, I lowkey didn’t know how I was going to do this and switched the format at least 7 times. I also broke my wrist on my dominant hand 🙂(didn’t know the ao3 curse applied to tumblr too) thankfully I can type with both hands but finishing out my first smut chapter with one hand was difficult. Speaking of smut, this was my first hand at writing this stuff so 🥹hopefully it’s good, I did not reread it bc one hand but also bc I’m indecisive and will change it, anyways hope you enjoy this chapter!!

taglist: @boiohboii @ale-522 @ietss @theseerbetweenus @jaxx-7 @sainzluvrr @the-untamed-soul @ashy-kit @hc-dutch @nichmeddar @delululeclerc @sweate-r-weathe-r @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @luvsforme @samantha-chicago @theblueblub @woozarts

༉‧₊˚ CHAMPIONS LOVE ༉‧₊˚

⤷ Following the messy breakup between Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet, Max’s manager comes up with a solution to divert the attention – a fake relationship. His new girlfriend? Two time olympic gold medalist figure skater, y/n for the USA team. Easy? Well…

#f1 smau #champions love ♡#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula one x black reader #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #formula one smut #mv1 #mv33

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dawnagustd · 2 years

Text

like that || jjk

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

Shit.

You’ve always known your luck was shit, but running into your crush at a party was the last thing you thought would happen. Especially the day after you finally talked to him only to discover he has a girlfriend. You found out also that he’s an asshole who likes to lead people on until he feels like crushing their feelings.

You can’t see him right now. Not like this.

Peach Cîroc staining your top, now soaked into your flesh… It’d be too embarrassing.

So, you hide. But the room you’ve chosen is already occupied.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, shi–”

Someone’s in here, and their voice startles you. Your right palm lays flat on your chest, trying to settle your racing heart. You turn around expecting to give an apology and be on your way, but once again, shitty luck.

“Jungkook? Seriously?”

How can things go from bad to worse?

Let’s just say you’ve been… Well, you’ve been avoiding one guy so you can chase another. A couple of months ago, you went on a blind date with a guy, and he just so happens to be the person standing in front of you. Only one person enjoyed that date, and it damn sure wasn’t you.

You knew by the way your friends described him that he was too good to be true. On paper, Jungkook sounds amazing—brown eyes, healthy hair, smart, talented… hot. But no one talks about his competitiveness. The 8-year-olds at the trampoline park will never be the same.

Instead of attraction, you can only feel annoyance when it comes to his arrogance. You would rather take the walk of shame than be stuck in here… with him.

“I’m leaving.”

“No,” he interjects. “You’re hiding.”

Jungkook takes the remaining steps to close the space separating you two, and like a deer caught in headlights, you’re frozen.

“Is someone bothering you?”

“What?! No, I’m not.”

The beginning of a chuckle travels past his lips, openly mocking you.

“You squeaked. You’re lying.” Jungkook tilts his head. “He’s out there, huh?”

Great. Everyone knows.

“Fuck off, Jungkook.”

This time he doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. His smirk just continues to grow as he stands toe to toe with you.

“Or I can do you one better,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows lift involuntarily as curiosity invades your thoughts. The thing about people who are full of themselves, they sure do talk a good game.

Tension appears to grow after his finger beckons you to come closer, his minty breath hitting your skin when he leans closer. The vibration from his words sends a tingle through your body. You suppose lack of sex will make the smallest things feel electrifying.

“...I can fuck you senseless right here against this door.”

“Oh, you’d like that, huh?”

Jungkook pulls away, taking the soothing scent of his Versace with him.

“I would,” he agrees. “And so would you if you ever gave me a chance.”

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with me.”

“You wanna bet on that?”

Silence dominates the dark bedroom as the stare-down begins. Neither of you wants to look away because that would mean defeat. That’s not an option when it comes to Jungkook.

“Scared you’ll want more, huh?”

“The lies you tell.”

Jungkook’s crooked smile never fades as he shakes his head. “I bet you’re a runner.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, you’ll think back on this and be mad at yourself for allowing him to get you worked up.

But that’s tomorrow's problem.

“Why? Don’t want to hear the truth–”

“You get on my nerves.” You grab Jungkook’s shirt and even he’s surprised. You could care less about his taunting because this is how he behaves when he wants your attention, but that smirk has got to go.

“I don’t care. Do something about that.”

Those glossy dark orbs hidden beneath his thick lashes focus directly on your lips. Your eyes explore his features, lingering on the tip of his tongue peeking out to bring moisture. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly releases.

“Give me an excuse to pin you against this wall,” he whispers.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kissing Jungkook was not in your plans tonight, but something comes over you, and you do just that. Your teeth click, and you grab at each other’s clothes as he guides you backward. When your back hits the door is when he finally comes to a stop, and his mint-tainted lips begin to venture lower.

Jungkook grips your ass while he nips the skin of your neck, leaving traces of him along your feverish skin. Your hair entangled in his hair pulls him closer as if there is any more space left between you.

“Hold on,” he breathes. “I smell alcohol. You good?”

Thinking about earlier, you roll your eyes as you recall some frat guy bumping into you.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just got here. Some guy made me spill my drink all over myself.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He grips your hair and tilts your head, granting him more access to your collarbone and cleavage, two areas he can’t seem to abandon. “Remind me to kick his ass before we leave.”

A shuddered gasp escapes your lips when Jungkook’s teeth attack your flesh. He scoops you off your feet in the same motion, pinning you against the door with his hips while he leaves your skin wet and bruised. You can feel his bulge when he pushes up your skirt.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, raking your nails down his biceps.

He removes his jacket so you can feel more of his warmth beneath your palms. You feel Jungkook’s hand slip between you so he can pull down his pants. In this position, it’s impossible to see what he’s working with, but you can tell by the pressure probing at your panties that you’re going to feel every inch of him.

“One sec,” he murmurs.

Jungkook reaches for his wallet and finds a condom instantly. He opens the package and rolls it effortlessly. He’s probably done it more times than you can count, but that’s none of your business. It’s your turn now.

You pull your panties out of the way, and the blunt tip of his dick begins teasing your entrance, testing the waters until he’s sure it’s okay for him to sink into your pussy.

He makes you look at him while his cock slips inside of you, wanting the image of your initial reaction in his memory. You try to give him something decent to remember, but the stretch is so overwhelming your eyes roll back.

Jungkook eventually buries his face in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own moans, but you hear how desperate he is to fuck you. With your permission, he makes small strokes until you both can overcome the sensitivity.

“Pussy’s too good for you to be stressed over a piece of shit,” he murmurs into your bosom. He licks the sticky substance coating your breasts and moans. “...And you taste too good.”

He starts thrusting harder, and your bodies cause the door to rattle and shake. Your cries begin to fill the room, and Jungkook encourages them by filling your head with praises.

“You’re so hot and beautiful. You think that guy deserves to fuck you like this?”

He grabs your hands and pins them above you, supporting you with nothing but his slender but toned waist. You’re left in awe as he bounces you on his dick.

“Even if he deserved it. He couldn’t,” Jungkook adds. “He could never fuck you like this.”

“Jungkook!”

You sob his name as your muscles tighten, pressure building within you as you near your peak. His forehead presses against yours, and he looks into your eyes while he fucks you.

“But I can do it. I can fuck you like this.”

“Please,” you rasp.

“Why should I?”

You knew he’d be a little asshole. Your pride does not compare to your pleasure, however.

“I need to come,” you mutter.

“What was that?”

After gritting your teeth, you just allow the words to flow from your mouth.

“Please let me come!”

“Fuck. Okay, love.” His pace quickens, and your moans get louder, startling everyone outside the door. Sweat forms on Jungkook’s forehead as he puts in the work to make you reach your high. “Your moans are so fucking beautiful.”

His praise drives you over the edge, and your orgasm ripples through you without warning. Your body shudders as Jungkook guides you through an intense wave of pleasure before his thrust becomes wild and he spills his load into the condom.

“You owe me a second date,” he sighs as his dick slips out of you. Both of you groan. You from the emptiness, and he from the loss of warmth. “You’re paying this time.”

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“I still don’t care,” he laughs.

Jungkook keeps you in this position while he caresses your thighs. You’re enjoying the gentleness of his touch. So, you don’t even complain. It’s a peaceful moment, and all the concerns you had recently have been buried underneath your dickmatized state.

After some minutes go by, Jungkook finally speaks.

“I’m going to put you down now, okay?”

“Okay.”

When your feet touch the ground is when everything sets in. You bask in it all as you both rearrange your clothing. You try to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, but it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t demand your attention.

“So, two options.”

“I’m listening.”

“We can pretend it never happened, or…”

“Or what?”

Jungkook smirks.

“We can pretend it never happened and go back to my place for round two,” he suggests.

The thought has you smiling before you even realize it.

You respond a bit shyly. “I like option two.”

“Oh, yeah?... Well, let’s go then.”

He grabs your hand, but you both pause before opening the door. There’s no way to explain this situation to anyone, and the second that door opens people will begin talking. You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about that.

As if he can read your mind, Jungkook speaks up.

“Come on. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

And you know… Maybe Jungkook does deserve a second date.

No trampoline parks, though.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #btshoneyhive #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #thekpopuniverse #kvanity #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #fic: like that #sugakookitty

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dreaisgrayte · 1 year

Text

Hot and Tasty| Kyojuro Rengoku

Synopsis: Your best friend introduces you to one of her friends since you’re introverted and don’t get out much. The two of you hit it off and come to find out, this new friend is a lot closer to your heart than you previously thought.

Warning/contains: cam!boy rengoku, blowjob, mature content, mature language, oral sex, fem and male receiving, maybe a little crush, vibrator on male, slight angst

word count: 7.4K

a/n: i’m finally back, thank goodness. Finals week and then Tears of the Kingdom took over my life. This fic is a small idea I had thinking about Rengoku’s moobies. Like how nice would it be for him to stream with those? Fr, he’d be the type to not understand why he got all the hype. So I dedicate this fic to Kyojuro’s perfect pectorals.

If there was one thing you knew about yourself, it was that you were a visual person. You learned better visually, vision was your favorite sense. You used it constantly in your line of work, watching how people interact with one another, shows, and how words could come together to form a story. You wrote and you were damn good at it. Though, books hadn’t been flying off the shelves as you had hoped. So you used your skills of being an introvert and lack of a care to create a streaming channel. Fans suddenly started flocking to you and your following grew and grew until it was apparent you could make some good money off of this. You could combine your passion with something you were good at and get paid for it.

So yeah, visuals made you pretty happy. So happy that even when you touched yourself you couldn’t do so without watching someone else enjoy themselves. Though you couldn’t think about that right now because you were supposed to be meeting up with your close friend Kanroji. She had invited you out to lunch last night and who were you to decline the loveable best friend you’d had for many years now? She’d even offered to pay for your food since she knew times were a little tough for you at the moment. You couldn’t tell her that you’d had a drunk night and accidentally (on purpose) made a big donation to a streamer you watched often. She’d start to ask questions and those questions would lead down a harsh road of embarrassment for you. It’s then that you feel your phone buzz almost as if you’d summoned Kanroji.

Kan_deez_nutsfitinyourmouth

Great news! A friend I haven’t seen in a while is going to meet us there. He told me he just got a huge bonus from work so he’ll treat us to lunch! I can’t wait for you both to meet each other! I hope this is okay. ~11:37am

You read over the text for a few moments before thinking about what Kanroji’s friend would look like. She had a multitude of friends and they came in all different shapes and sizes. Surprisingly she thought of you as her best friend, out of everyone she was friends with she chose you. It meant a lot to you and even though it was narcissistic, being favored by Kanroji Mitsuri made you feel better about yourself. What if she liked this other friend more? That was something you couldn’t let happen. You’d have to make sure Kanroji didn’t abandon you. This fear was probably irrational and you might need to see a therapist about it. You shrug it off and move off your plush bed. You needed to find something nice to wear because you couldn’t show up wearing the same outfit you’d been in for the last 3 days or so. This old friend had to know you meant business. You decide on a short green floral dress that has a stretchy bust to help contain the gravity sacks. The skirt of the dress fell nicely around your stomach and covered enough of your thighs that you didn’t feel super insecure about them. You once yourself over in the mirror leaning against your wall. You looked cute, cute enough to kill. Which you were willing to do if it meant keeping Kanroji to yourself. You slip into some comfortable off-brand white tennis shoes and glance at your phone for the time. It was nearly noon, you should probably start the short journey to the quaint restaurant.

You arrive a little past noon and spot Kanroji seated near the window. Your eyes instantly track the man sitting across from her. He has long blonde hair with red tips. It falls past his shoulders in spiky waves. His shoulders are…incredibly broad, and muscular, and you find yourself staring at the lines of his muscles through his shirt for longer than you would like to admit. You move shyly toward the pair and before you can appear fully in front of them Kanroji notices you. Her face lights up with an excited smile as she waves you over.

“Y/n you made it!” She beams. The man slowly turns and then he abruptly stands up. You slightly jump at the sudden movement but watch as he bows his head and then extends his hand. You look between his massive hand and his bright red and yellow eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n, my name is Kyojuro.” His eyes seem to glow as he grins warmly at you. You take his hand in yours and shake it. A pull of electricity courses through you once your skin makes contact with his. He motions for you to sit next to him with a friendly smile. You accept only because he smelt like delicious food and maybe expensive cologne. He wore a fitted black tee paired with simple blue jeans. You don’t know how he did it, but somehow he looked incredibly good-looking. Maybe it was because he was just that good-looking. How the hell were you supposed to feel confident when you sat next to two beautiful people?

Rengoku was nervous. He’d never seen someone as effortlessly breathtaking as you. He’d never known love before, but he was starting to understand what the phrase love at first sight meant. You were meadows kissed by the sun. You were birds soaring in the sky. You were melodies played by a symphony. Kanroji should’ve warned him that you were more than his type, you were perfect. Rengoku sends a glare toward Kanroji, who smirks his look off and turns her attention to you.

“So what have you been up to this fine morning y/n?” Kanroji inquires. You glance at the man next to you who doesn’t seem too interested in the conversation, so you decide to tell the truth.

“Well, I woke up pretty late, but once I cooked myself a nice breakfast I was pretty pumped to get some work done.” You reply, fiddling with the skin on your thumb. Kyojuro peers at you with an inquisitive look.

“What do you do for work?” He asks, his eyes searching your face like they’ll reveal the answer before your mouth does. You smile kindly and gesture to yourself.

“I’m a self-published author who also likes to stream on Twitch for some extra cash.” His eyes light up like a fire.

“I like to stream too.” He exclaims. You feel your heart soar. For a moment you thought Kyojuro would ask you the same line of questions everyone else seems to. When will you get a real job?

“Really? What platform do you stream on? Maybe I know it?” You quiz. Kyojuro quickly looks away from you. You furrow your brows and observe a red tinge to his ears.

“It’s…pretty unheard of. I don’t think you’d know it…” He trails off. Why did the mood change so suddenly? Did you say something wrong? All you wanted to do was support Kyojuro since it felt like the two of you were becoming friends. Anxiety thrums in your chest. Maybe you weren’t as likeable as you had originally thought. Kanroji’s favor had gotten to your head.

“Well, I have an idea.” Kanroji pipes up, breaking the silence you had inevitably created. You turn to look at her, who had been silent strangely for a while. “Why don’t you both exchange numbers and then Rengoku can send you some of his content when you get to know each other better.” She smiles slyly and Kyojuro shares a strange look with her. He presses his full lips together and lets out a short breath. She pulls out a pad of paper from her bag and passes it to you with a pink pen. “Write down your number. I’m sure Kyojuro will contact you as soon as possible.” She grins, but you can see the mischief in your friend’s green eyes. What was she planning? You scribble down your number and tear out the page it’s on. You hesitate for a moment before sliding it over to Rengoku. His eyes are trained on the piece of paper like it holds the world's secrets.

“Thank you…” He mumbles softly. You nod your head and look away from him.

“No problem.” You respond not sure what just happened. You hear Kanroji giggle and look up to find her covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “What is it now?” You ask, frustration dripping from your tone. This only fuels her laughter more.

“You both are just so…” She shakes her head and gestures to you and Kyojuro. “So cute. We have to hang out more.”

“We haven’t even ordered our food Mitsuri. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” Rengoku glares at her. She gains a shit-eating grin on her face. You stare at the shoes you had slipped on, doubt that you should’ve even came today seeping into your thoughts. Did he not want to hang out with you again? He didn’t owe you anything, but did he have to make it so obvious that he wanted to never do this again?

“Well by all means let’s eat because I’m starving.” She grins and clasps her hands together. You peer up at Kanroji, observing her beautiful hair and sharp face. She was the type of girl that people stopped to stare at. You were always the glance, never the double-take. The small lunch ends with mainly Kyojuro and Kanroji catching up about what they’d been up to lately. You sat watching the two interact, mostly entranced with the way Rengoku’s smile seemingly brightened up the dim restaurant. You wished you could watch his mouth all day. The way he formed words was somehow sexy. His whole face expressing his emotions without a filter or care how others would react to him. Kyojuro was beautiful. A ray of warmth in your somewhat cold life. The time ticked by in an instant, and suddenly you were standing to leave. Kyojuro had left to pay for the food and you stood waiting for Kanroji to gather her things. “So, do you like him?” She suddenly blurts. Kanroji had a sixth sense of matching people together. It was like she was a matchmaker in her past life. She just had these feelings when two people would click together in the type of love you hear about in the fictional world. Your eyes widen at her blatant question.

“I just met him.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes at the obvious answer. Kanroji on the other hand sighs loudly and rolls her eyes. You weren’t even sure if he liked meeting you.

“Y/n, I’m not asking if you want to have his children, just a simple ‘Do you think he’s a cool person’? What are your opinions on him at this moment?” She restates. You flush and look away from her prying eyes.

“I…I mean he’s really cool…” You mutter. You know Kanroji is smirking even without looking at her. You can’t seem to stop the confessions, even though you knew she’d tease you about it later. “I think his smile is the most attractive thing I’ve seen on someone, besides his obvious muscular body. He feels safe, which sounds weird because I’ve only just met him, but I think I’d grow to trust him.” You rant, embarrassed that your mouth won’t seem to close. Kanroji pats you on the shoulder and her sly smirk changes to a smile of compassion and understanding.

“I’m really glad it seems you want to be friends with him. My little introvert is growing her social circle.” She wipes away a fake tear and you shove her slightly. Her mischievous glow comes back as she pushes you back. “So you do want to have his babies?” She teases. You’re about to object because even if you want to be friends with him that doesn’t mean he wants to be friends with you, but you feel a presence and you know exactly who it has to be.

“Who’s babies?” Kyojuro’s deep voice asks from behind you. Your whole body freezes and then goes warm. Kanroji on the other hand starts to laugh. At times like this, you really hated your best friend.

“Doesn’t matter.” You grumble and push past the both of them. “I’m leaving.” You don’t wait for either of them, just walk out the door and start the short walk to your apartment. What were you thinking? You got too comfortable with something you didn’t even have. It’s not like Kyojuro would ever look at you like that. You were stupid and… and insecure. Stupidly insecure about your body. What Rengoku lacked in body fat you surely made up for. He probably wanted someone built like himself, able to keep up. You’d just end up slowing him down. You feel a cold coil of anxiety and sorrow wrap around your body. It’s then that someone runs up behind you. You turn around expecting it to be Mitsuri, but Rengoku stands there panting slightly. He was a sight to see. The dimming light of the evening made him glow like an ember. In a way he reminded you of the sunset; once he left you’d be all alone in the dark with only the light from your monitor illuminating your face. He searches your face for some sort of sign that you were displeased. He was worried he’d said something that offended you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to get to know you enough that you might consider becoming intimate with him. He’d never met someone like you and he was damned if he let you go now.

“Did I say something wrong?” He finally asks. Might as well get to the point. There was no need to dance around what he wanted to ask you. You raise your brows and shake your head slowly. Why would he think that? Was he being serious? Never the less, it wasn’t him who had sent your emotions necessarily into a frenzy. It was the pushiness of your best friend.

“No Kyojuro, Kanroji just takes her jokes too far sometimes. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that…” You sigh and press your lips together. Kyojuro’s face relaxes and you are blessed with another one of his smiles.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Can I say something weird?” He rubs the back of his neck and looks off to the side. You tilt your head and shrug, but you can’t help the nervous butterflies the creep up to your sternum. You want to shove them down and tell them there’s no place for them here, but you almost enjoy the way they make you feel.

“I don’t have a problem with whatever you want to say. Go ahead.” You reply. He clears his throat and your eyes meet.

“I’m glad I got to meet you today. You seem really cool and I look forward to getting to know you better.” He mumbles shyly. You can’t help but swoon at the adorable tone of his voice. All your anxietys melt away and are replaced with a steadily beating heart and throbbing lower region. This man had such a hold on you after a few hours of being next to one another. Your face contorts into an idiotic grin.

“Me as well.” You pause and you notice your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t tell if you are nervous talking to someone you want to be friends with… or if it’s the easy attraction you have for him. You decide it’s probably a mixture of both. You also decide to be bold. “Make sure to text me, I want to see your content sometime soon.” You bow your head and go to leave, but before you turn around you catch Rengoku’s face flushing a bright red. Hmm… what an interesting reaction. Maybe…just maybe you should give love another shot. If with anyone, surely Kyojuro would be an excellent choice.

Kyojuro’s heart was nearly pounding out of his chest as you walked out of his view. He watched you until he couldn’t anymore. He stumbles toward the wall and braces himself against it. He attempts to catch his breath and places a hand over his heart. How was he supposed to show such an innocent person the type of content he made…? He couldn’t possibly share his deepest darkest secret with you. You would surely leave him behind if you learned of it. Maybe it was time for him to branch out into the gaming genre so he’d have something to show you.

You got home around 5:30. It didn’t seem like you’d stayed out that long, but here you were nearly 5 hours later finally getting home. You’d somehow made a new friend. This was huge. A momentous occasion. You should celebrate. You look down at your phone and then remember the pounding of your heart earlier. You knew an excellent way to relieve some stress.

It’s not long before you’re in your room propped up on your bed. You grab your laptop from your bedside table and place it on a pillow in front of you. You type in the URL of one of your favorite sites. A horny smile curls the corners of your lips upwards as you search for one of your favored content creators. Yoro was a hunky man, with huge pecs. You could only imagine what they must feel like. His content was very straightforward, but he specialized in role-play, pillow talk, and was famous for his incredible whimpering. It…did things to a person. He always had his hair tied back into a low ponytail, so it had to be long. You wonder how much he’d beg for you if you pulled his hair…Needless to say, this man had you wrapped around his finger. If you ever got the chance to meet him… goodness you don’t even know what you’d do. Probably drop your pants to let the flood free. Yoro also wore a black mask and sometimes a black cap that he pulled over his eyes. It was a little disappointing that you couldn’t see his face, but the rest of him more than made up for it. His body was a work of art and you’d never seen a cock prettier than his. It had to be around 5 to 6 inches long and was so girthy. You wonder if he’d be able to fit inside you. In fact, he was the biggest expense in your life. He was the reason you had spent a lot of money when you were drunk. You had to be his number-one fan. Had to be.

You pull up one of his recent videos and lean up against your headboard. Yoro’s setup was very simple; a view of his bed, which had deep red sheets on it, his gray walls, and a small view of his desk where he sat for Q and As at times. He starts off the video sitting at his desk and explaining that he’ll be trying out a new toy a fan had sent him. It was a small vibrator that could be wrapped around the penis. He looked excited from what you could tell and that made you horny for some reason. You shimmy out of your underwear and toss them on your floor. You spread your legs like you’re showing Yoro your pussy. He’s already strapped the toy onto his cock and has it turned on a low setting.

“Fuck, this feels weird.” He chuckles in a deep voice. You bite down on your bottom lip as your fingers duck into your folds. “I’m going to turn it up higher.” He explains and presses the button a couple of times. You can hear the buzzing from here and your heart pounds with lust. You wanted to be there teasing him with the vibrator. Making him whimper and whine for you give him sweet release. Your eyes close slightly as you gaze at Yoro on your screen. His hair was tucked into his hat this time and you never desperately wished to see someone’s face as they were being pleasured as you do with his. Yoro doubles over on the bed and his legs start to shake. “Ngh. Fuck. It feels so good.” He whines. His eyes dart to look at the camera as he struggles to stay standing. You flutter your eyes closed as you massage your clit with your fingers. God this was so hot. “I think- ahh- close. I’m going to,” His breath shakes as he tries to talk. His muscular arm contracts as he grips the sheets of his bed. “F-fuck, holy shit.” He sputters out as cum spurts from his tip. You bite back a moan and fall off your climax with a shiver running up your spine.

“Wow.” You pant as the video ends. Your eyes shut. You were worn out from everything you did today. Socializing and now this? You’d clean up tomorrow. Right now you were going to fall asleep.

You wake up with a notification from an unknown number. You rub your eyes and read over what the number had said.

‘Did you get home safe?’

It then clicks that this must be Kyojuro. You smile to yourself and save his name as apricot since that’s what his name and hair reminded you of.

Yes, I got home safe and sound. I Fell asleep right after I got in the door.

Apricot

hahaha, did you fall asleep in the entryway?

Lmao, no I at least made it to my bed.

Apricot

damn, so I can’t bully you about being one of those people who sleep on the floor?

I’m afraid not 🙁

Apricot

dw, I’ll find something else to bully you about

jeez I thought we were friends, but now I find out you’re actually a horrible person

Apricot

yup, I’m a monster 👾

wtf emoji is that

Apricot

he’s a cute lil monster wdym?

oooh sure, ‘cute’

Apricot

>:( so now you’re bullying an inanimate object? Who’s the monster now?

caught red-handed, I actually eat children in the night

Apricot

:0 how scandalous

You shake your head and toss your phone to the side of your bed. How could one person be so damn adorable? You remember last night as your face flushes. You should probably clean up and then start planning out your next few streams. After donating nearly 1k to Yoro, you needed to pump out some streams to earn more money.

Apricot

What’s your favorite color?

You bite your lip and think for a beat before typing a response.

I’m partial to greens and pinks, but I can’t lie and exclude reds and purples 🙂

Apricot

I like red too, it was my mother’s favortie color

Is she…?

Apricot

Yeah…it happened when I was young so I’m mostly over it

You don’t have to be over it Kyojuro, grief doesn’t have a deadline

Rengoku doesn’t respond quickly so you set your phone to the side of your desk. You’d put in a load of laundry and starting scheduling streams for next week while texting him. You’ve barely begun to move some items around in your plans when you hear your phone go off.

Apricot

You’re right, my father was never the same after she died and I think he took it out on me. Maybe that’s why I’ve made some of the rash decisions because I wanted to live up to the disappointment he thought I was. It didn’t help that my little brother watched as our father beat me down with his words nearly every day. That’s why I’m working so hard, so I can provide a better life for my brother…and for my father.

You stare at the message, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. The thought of anyone thinking Kyojuro Rengoku was a disappointment was practically unthinkable to you, and you just met him yesterday. You feel angry, sad, and sadistically happy that he felt comfortable enough to tell you this.

Firstly, I want to tell you thank you for sharing. That was incredibly brave of you.

Then there’s what you said, Kyojuro I don’t think you could ever be a disappointment. You’re a product of what happened to you and the environment that was pushed upon you. You grew up damn well, you’re kind, funny, and intelligent. Grief effect people in the strangest ways, I’m just sorry your father got the short end, I can’t imagine how it must of been for all of you. Your father lost the love of his life and you lost a mother. I hope you and your father can make up.

Apricot

I will fight my whole life if it means I can see him. That’s what love is. Thanks for listening to my rambling. Sorry if I overwhelmed you with the sad boy vibes.

No no no, it’s nice to know you’re human. When I met you yesterday I was convinced you were some sort of God

Your face flushes as you boldly send the last text. You flip your phone over and ignore the buzzing. You had to get back to work anyway.

Rengoku was curious what you meant, but for some reason you weren’t reading his messages. He sighs loudly and presses his lips together. You were too cute for your own good. The beast inside of his chest was throbbing. Then there was the aching in the confines of his pants. He was a gentleman, but you were making him think of ungodly things to do to you. How cute your face would look high on pleasure, cumming for the 100th time for him. You’d be such a good fucking girl for him. Opening up your sweet legs and exposing your cunt for him to taste. You’d be absolutely delicious. Thats when he notices a text back from you.

I never thought I’d see a sunrise and sunset simultaneously. That’s what it’s like being with you. Is that weird? You’re a very warm person lmao

I feel like that’s weird.

Ignore that.

Kyojuro, don’t get the wrong idea

Fuck

He can’t possibly contain his smile. Delicious.

It’s been about 3 months since you initially met Kyojuro Rengoku. The two of you had been messaging back and forth nearly everyday, hanging out occasionally, and it was apparent how attracted you were to him. He was intoxicatingly charming over text and when you’d see him in person his smile would wrap your body in a warm coat of giddiness. No longer were you controlled by the cold hands of anxiety. Rengoku’s presence and persisting nature made you realize that you simply shouldn’t give a fuck. You’re you and that’s priceless. Kanroji was ecstatic when you first told her Rengoku asked you to hang out alone. She was convinced you were in love with him, which… probably wasn’t far from the truth. You knew so much about him, but the one thing you were still curious about was the content he made. One part of you felt like it was too late to bring up that topic, but the other part was dying to know if he played games or was more of a talking streamer. What type of things did he do to entertain his viewers? As if summoning him a text message buzzes from him on your phone screen.

Apricot

You wanna come over and chill tonight? I got that new movie you were asking about 😎

Ahh sick, yeah I can be there by 4

Is that good?

I could come earlier but I have some work to finish up before I can make it

Apricot

Yeah that should work

I do have some things I’ll need to finish up in my office though, so if you’re fine just chilling by yourself for like an hour or so until I’m finished then we should be all set

Hell yeah man, I’ll take a nap on your comfortable ass couch

Apricot

Just don’t drool on my poor pillows like last time 🙁

Yeah sure, or I could just not come over

Apricot

FINE, at least hide the massive puddle from me instead of showing me like some proud child who just drew on my walls 😭😭😭😭

Sorry you give off daddy energy 🤷‍♀️

Apricot

It’s my daddy issues rubbing off on me 🚩😭

🚩🚩🚩🚩 problem child alert

Apricot

Hey! You have no idea how evil Senjuro can be. He may look cute, but he uses that against you

Sounds like a child is able to outsmart you

Apricot

Just hurry up and get your ass over here

Yes sir 🙄

You grin to yourself and those happy butterflies fill your chest yet again. Over the past few months you’d gotten used to the wishy washy way they made you feel. Kind of like you were sinking through a cloud, but a big hunky man would catch you when you fell through. It’d been a while since you masturbated to Yoro since you mostly thought about Kyojuro now. In a way you felt bad, but not too much. You hum happily to yourself and finish up the last minute touches to a cover you were working on. You shut down your computer and glance at what you were wearing in your mirror. Oversized gray sweats and a knit blue tank with a heather gray cardigan loosely covering your shoulders. You looked incredibly sexy. A large grin overtakes your face as you make your way to leave for Kyojuro’s, who happens to live a small jaunt north of you.

Rengoku paces nervously waiting for you to arrive. Tonight was the night he wanted to tell you that from the beginning he thought you were the most attractive person he’d ever met. How he would say that without sounding creepy…? He didn’t know. He just hoped you’d take it as a compliment. His breath was short and for a moment he thought he might pass out. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and instantly reaches for it. When he realizes it’s a call from his manager he furrows his brows. He hesitantly answers.

“Yoro, listen, I need you to stream sometime tonight. Views of your colleagues are down to I need you to fill in the donation gaps.” Before he can argue the phone goes silent. His eyes darken and he throws his phone against the couch. He’d planned on editing some videos, but now he had to stream by contract.

“Fucking hell.” He curses lowly and clenches his fist.

You arrive within 10 minutes of leaving, the wonderful air making you in an even better mood. Your smile hadn’t left your lips since your conversation with Kyojuro. You take the elevator and knock on his door around 4:33pm. He opens it briskly, his blonde and red hair in a mess around his face. His chin is scruffy and he wears a loose fitted white shirt with black sweats. He looks amazingly sexy.

“Hello Kyojuro,” You sing and step into his apartment. You wander over to his plush couch and flop down into the cushions. “Don’t mind me, I’ll be here watching some videos while you busy yourself with important secretive content things.” You tease. Little beknownst to you this stikes a nerve in Rengoku. He grits his teeth together and stalks past you.

“Just stay quiet. I’m going to lock the door.” He quips sternly, barley looking at you. You furrow your brows and watch as he stomps into the office and closes the door. You listen for the click of the lock but it never comes.

“Who peed in his cheerios?” You whisper to yourself and sigh loudly. His grumpy demenour had certainly put a damper on your mood, but you were too excited to take another nap on his couch to really care. You were sure when you woke up he’d be back to his bright and cheery self. Not long after you lay your head down you fall asleep.

Rengoku is in your dream, but so is Yoro. They’re both looking at each other and then Rengoku is shirtless and you don’t really care about Yoro anymore.

You awaken from what seemed like a short dream to a loud noise coming from Kyojuro’s office. You grunt in response, upset that the real Kyojuro probably won’t become shirtless. Your eyes slowly adjust to light and you stretch out your legs and arms while making a silent screeching noise. Not sure why stretches felt so good while making a noise, but it had to be scientifically proven. You should probably check on Kyojuro. You glance at your phone and realize you’d been asleep for nearly an hour. How long does it take to become shirtless? You roll your eyes and smack your dry lips. You stand and stretch one more time before wandering over to the office door. You grab hold of the knob and knock softly.

“Kyojuro?” You whisper hesitantly and twist the knob. The door slowly opens into the office, or what you thought was the office. Your eyes first land on the bed over to the left of the room covered in red sheets. Your eyes flick to the gray walls and then to Kyojuro, who’s eyes are widely looking into yours. It’s then you realize this Kyojuro is in fact shirtless. And pantless. Dick out. Mask on. Hair tucked into a hat. Yoro. The man you touched yourself to and would do anything to fuck. Shame for watching Kyojuro’s content without his consent rushed through you for a moment. It wasn’t like you had purposefully sought out what he posted, but happened upon it before you even knew each other. As long as you never told him you were a fan, things would work out. You wanted to keep this between the both of you for as long as you could. You notice the camera flashing and scoot back toward the door, eyes still trained on the magnificent body in front of you. A wash of overwhelming feelings crash into you, but for the sake of whatever the fuck was happening, you stayed calm.

“Sorry guys, my cat almost knocked over a plant.” Kyojuro laughs and turns back to his audience. You notice the vibrator strapped to his dick again and the hunger you had tried to keep calm all this time nearly bubbles out. You’d definitely have to talk this out later, but right now you didn’t want to leave the room. You observe him glance at you a couple of times, but he’s trying so hard to keep his cool. He must think you’re in shock. Appalled. Grossed out. Nope. You’re just really fucking horny. It’s taking all your being to not jump him in front of his camera right now. Everything seemingly clicks into place. Why he got so weird at the restaurant. He didn’t want to tell you he was a cam boy. Why he never shared his content with you. Why he was always so secretive with his office and planning. He also happened to be the one streamer you would do anything for. Which meant in a way you were double horny for him? Maybe after he was done you could convince him to give you a private show? Or was that weird? Maybe that was weird. No harm in asking though. “Yes yoroslut the donations are hooked up to the vibrator. If you send a certain amount it correlates with a certain power setting on it.” He smiles as he replies to a comment. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you watch the live show. You could have some fun with this…

You pull out your phone and notice Kyojuro tense. You smirk and sit down on the ground, back against the wall. He furrows his brows as he watches you, obviously confused on what’s happening. You pull up his stream on your phone and lick your lips with anticipation. You click the donation button and the small gift option. After a couple seconds a low buzzing can be heard from Kyojuro. He tenses and his eyes widen as he realizes what you’re doing. His cock stiffens and you can feel your pussy throb hungrily. He’s trying to pay attention to the stream in front of him, but you were distracting. You donate a medium gift. Louder buzzing and Kyojuro lets out a breathy moan, eyes trained on you. He was searching your face, his muscles tensed because of you. His chest is heaving and you enjoy the way his cock twitches because of the donations you’re sending. Next was the large gift. Incredibly loud buzzing fills the room and Kyojuro doubles over gripping his desk. He whimpers and it cracks into a loud moan. You can hear his breathing from where you sit on his floor. The buzzing continues and Kyojuro starts to shake, his muscles flexing like crazy as he tries to contain himself. You read some of the comments flying by.

Great show. This is so hot!

This is why Yoro is my favorite!

So glad you decided to stream tonight!

Rengoku is letting out soft moans and his eyes squeeze shut. You can’t handle the hunger building in your chest and pussy so you crawl over on all fours to his chair. He’s already scooted out pretty far from trying to contain himself, so crawling under the desk is a simple task. Once you’re there you peer up at him. His blazing eyes meet yours and from the way he’s breathing you can tell he’s close to climaxing.

“I want you to be a good boy and cum in my mouth.” You whisper ever so lightly. His eyes widen slightly but then they flutter shut and he gives you the tiniest nod. You rip off the vibrator from his throbbing and twitching cock. You wrap your hand around him, but since he’s so girthy your hand barley covers any space. You work him as best you can nevertheless. Kyojuro grunts softly and he tries to look back at the comments. You like the way his dick feels in your hand, theres a slight curve at the tip that helps him not slip out of your handjob.

“I-I like,” He groans and his eyes shut again. “I enjoy ramen.” He pants. He must be answering a comment. It’s time for the finishing move. You smirk to yourself, even though you’re a little nervous. You were having fun now, but what about later when everyone had their clothes on and it got serious? You push those thoughts to the back of your head and kiss Kyojuro’s tip and make eye contact with him. You smooch it again and his body visibly shudders. You then take him in your mouth, lips curling around his length. “F-fuck.” He curses and you hear him hit the desk above you. “Sorry guys, I-I-I,” His eyes roll back into his head and without finishing you hear the end of the steam noise. You still bob your head up and down his cock. You can feel him tensing in your mouth. He tears off his mask and hat, watching you suck his pretty cock. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair, letting out a low rumbling moan. You hum against his dick and his hand is suddenly in your hair, tangled with the soft locks. He pulls your mouth off him and stares at you, breathless. “What the fuck are you doing princess?” He growls. The angry look on his face tells you that you should be scared, but the fact he called you princess in that tone makes you squirm with excitement.

“Reciting the declaration of independence.” You reply like a smartass. Kyojuro looks you up and down, spit dripping down your chin and a bit of his precum smeared under your lip. You glance down at his erection and then meet his gaze again. “Are you going to let me continue…or?” You trail off moving closer to him on your knees. Kyojuro’s last bit of humanity is thrown out the window as he can smell your delicious scent.

“No.” He replies in a raspy voice. You tilt your head as he stands from his chair and flops down on the bed. “Come over here y/n” He commands. Your eyes widen and heat crawls all over your body. Rengoku lays on the bed, putting a pillow underneath his head. His eyes track you as you slowly rise to your feet. You sheepishly drop the cardigan and step out of your sweats. Your tank top is easy to slip off over your head and your sports bra comes off with it. You then slowly shimmy out of your underwear. Rengoku’s eyes flit over every inch of your body. He looks away before glancing back. Taking a double take. You feel your whole body warm. “Now get over here princess.” His usual fiery eyes are dark and hungry. With the way your needy cunt pulses, you don’t waste any time. You crawl up on the bed with him and slowly start to position yourself over his chest. His eyes practically eat you up as you scoot a little closer. “Come on my love, you need to be on top for me to use my mouth.” He coos. You nervously bite your lip and sit down on his face. His nose to your clit and he doesn’t miss this oppurtunity to be smothered by your thick thighs. The tip of his nose rubbing against your clit and a soft moan slipping from your mouth. Before you have any time to react his tongue slips between your folds. A surprised yelp comes from your mouth as he continues to explore you with his tongue. It swirls against your clit, prodding the sensative spot like it was something stuck in his teeth he was trying to get out with his tongue. You try to find friction against his nose, biting your lip to contain your moans. Your breath becomes heavy and labored as Rengoku fucks you with his long tongue. You bring your finger to your mouth and bite down.

“Ah, Kyojuro, oh my god.” You murmured. Your words must motivate him to not let up on nudging your clit with his nose and lapping up your juices. “F-fuck, ungh, yes, right t-there.” You can feel the pressure of an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you’re seeing stars as he continues. Your hands are suddenly tangled in his hair holding him to your pussy. Your legs start to jerk as you ride out the shockwaves of your orgasm. You let out a howling moan, finally not holding back the sounds you wanted to make. You slide off his face and flop down on next to him. Kyojuro pants and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He licks the juices off his hand and maintains eye contact with you.

“Fucking tasty. Best thing I've ever ate.” He pants, looking you up and down. “Don’t hold back those beautiful noises from me my love.” A boyish grin replaces the serious look on his face as he props himself up on his elbow. “So I guess you know what I do for a living now.” His cheeks are red and your heart pounds in your chest. Yeah and you were his top donator. “I hope you don’t mind, I mean it seems like you didn’t because…you know…we…” He glances away and bites his bottom lip. “What I’m trying to say is…what are you thinking right now?” His eyes meet yours again looking for an answer.

What were you supposed to say? You knew about him before so the shock of finding out that Yoro and Kyojuro were the same person hadn’t phased you. What was bothering you was Rengoku finding out that you were a fan of his. You feel like that would cause problems between the both of you and all you wanted was to be able to fuck him as you pleased. Hell, maybe you’d even start to date. You didn’t know, but him figuring out that you’d watched him before wouldn’t be good news.

“I think we should continue where we left off.”

Yeah, this was for the best.

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bakugoushotwife · 1 year

Text

Poke

Piercer!Dabi x Fem!Reader AU

req: @allofthisistemporaryy

Summary: you've been searching for the perfect place to get you nipples pierced, but nothing is like the reviews said...

warnings: MINORS DNI, explicit smut, rough sex, choking, sadist!dabi, spanking, spitting, mentions of needles and descriptions of piercing practices.

You take a deep breath in and sigh it all out, standing outside the dingiest building you could possibly picture. It looked like it smelled. Could you really go through with this? You look back down at your phone just to make sure you were in the right place. Yup, address matches. You click over to the reviews tab, something you had already studied on your mission to find the perfect piercer. You peered at the words on the screen to see if anything had changed on your way over here.

“I always ask for Toga! She’s the best!” One review read, rating the piercer a 5 out of 5.

“The owner is a little intimidating, but Toga is always great and painless!”

“Toga’s amazing every time! I won’t let anyone else near my body!”

Another shaky sigh leaves your mouth, feeling somewhat reassured, you turn your phone off and march yourself up to the shoddy door of the establishment. The building was almost entirely brick, except for a wooden porch out front. It was very obviously an old house, probably too run down and dangerous to function as an actual home. It didn’t look very big, the door on the front hanging on the hinges with nothing more than hopes and dreams. There was a neon sign that only half worked hanging in the window, the wire from the ‘Tattoo and Piercing’ sign weaving through the blinds. You take another deep breath, and throw the door open with more force than you intended. A little bell jingles as you step in, gray and stained carpet muffling your footsteps as you drag your way to the service desk. The desk was tall and wooden, overtly so. You leaned up to see if there was anyone behind, as there were no other customers in the shop.

You can hear the faint buzz of the tattoo gun running in one room, but that’s it. The room does have a smell, you discovered. It’s a mix of tobacco and weed, maybe even alcohol. You can’t tell if it’s the drinking kind or the sterilizing kind, but with the other scents factored in it was probably the former. There was a ‘ring for service bell’ sitting on the desk, and you wondered if you should use it.

Just as you convince yourself to press it, you hear the buzzing stop and the sound of clothes shuffling and footsteps approaching the other side of the tall desk. A man peers out at you, smirking.

“I thought I heard someone come in. What can I do for ya sweet cheeks?” He asks, taking you by surprise. You didn’t want to stare too long, but you determined almost immediately that this must be the intimidating owner that some of the reviews mentioned.

He was tall, much taller than the huge desk that served at the barrier between you. He was lanky, what you could see of his arms covered in brands and tattoos, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He leaned against the doorway of the room he just came from, folding the arms you were staring at over his chest. The fabric of his white t-shirt was worn enough to where you could see the outlines of more tattoos and even the metal of nipple rings peeking through. His jacket was blue, like his eyes, but the most striking thing about him was his white hair. You were nervous, you knew it was going to be hard to walk into any piercing shop and ask to get your nipples pierced, but you had done all the research to ensure you landed with a female piercer.

“I dunno sign language, lil lady. Hello?” He asked, a pierced eyebrow raised in your direction. He chuckled after, revealing white–and sharp– perfect teeth.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You say quickly, trying to come up with a good excuse for you to be so dumbstruck. “I was just expecting a woman, all the reviews..” You trail off, unsure of how to say what you were in for today.

The man chuckled again, the sound reverberating through him. It made you smile awkwardly, debating if he was laughing at you or not. “I see! You’re wanting a piercin’ huh? Toga’s off today, but she’s my apprentice. I’m the owner, Dabi.”

You nod once, contemplating your next move. “Oh, well..I suppose I’ll come back another day then…” You hum pleasantly, giving him a kind smile to make up for your lack of conversation and business.

“Ah sweetheart,” Dabi pouted, unfolding his arms to lean forward across the desk, “I never get to do the fun pokes anymore, stuck doin’ tattoos all damn day. I don’t bite, hun…what’re you wantin’ done?” He asked curiously, a glimmer of something you can’t place flashes across his eyes.

Dabi licks his lips as he waits on your reply, looking over your figure smoothly. You were a fine little thing, he decided a few minutes ago, and he didn’t want to let you slip out of his grasp without knowing he’d see you again.

You hug yourself, biting the inside of your lip. His presence was indeed intimidating, you can verify, but there was something else making you nervous. He was gorgeous, the type of sexy everyone models their bad boy fantasies after. You knew you’d probably have a few of those later…

The idea of him near your chest gave you goosebumps, and before you could really argue with yourself, you blurted, “I want my nipples pierced.”

This time Dabi doesn’t try to conceal the hungry look in his eye. That was it, the look you couldn’t quite place. “‘S that so, doll?” He asks, tapping a black painted finger on his cheek with a devious grin. “I’m great with nipples, you can ask around.” He winks, you feel your cheeks heat up and your pussy throb involuntarily. You nearly gulp. He pushes open the traffic door to beckon you back behind the desk, to follow him to his piercing room where he could have his way with you in private.

Your mind blanks, a flush creeping over you. Why save the fantasies for later? Your body moves forward, and for once you were glad it was acting on its own accord. He lets the door swing behind you, leading you just around the corner to his workspace.

Dabi smirks as he watches you take a seat in his chair. He closes the door behind you, popping the lock subtly. He wouldn’t want anyone to intrude on his private session, now would he?

He can tell you’re nervous, even though this is by no means your first piercing. He notices a few on your ears and the obvious nostril. He grins to himself, it’s just because of him. “Relax, lil thing. It’ll just hurt worse if you tense up.” He warns, his predatory gaze seemingly devouring your innocent one.

He pulls a rolling stool between his legs, sliding to the edge of his tattoo chair effortlessly. He sat between your dangling legs, a permanent smirk etched into his features. “So princess, wanna take your shirt off for me?” He coos, resting his hands on either thigh. His fingers were long and slender, and even the touch to your leg set you on fire internally.. You could barely stand to think about how they would feel on your skin, or inside of you. How were you gonna make it through this?

You nod, reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. Sitting up slightly, you pull it off in a swift motion, letting it fall to the floor. Your eyes focus on his, the intensity of his turquoise glare sending a chill down your spine. You feel the prickly air blow across your nipples, perking them up beautifully. His eyes fixated on them, making you shift your legs to relieve some of the pressure. You wanted him badly.

The good news is, he wants you just as bad. “No bra, I like your style…”He purred, not even bothering to hide the way he stares at your chest, thanking whatever deity blessed him with the opportunity to put his hands on them. “Stand up, I need to mark where the needle will go…” He said, scooting out slightly so you could get to your feet. He didn’t give you much room, still sitting on his stool. You practically had your breasts in his face, and you can feel the tips of your ears burn.

“Perfect.” He sighs, and you bite your lip. “You’re in good hands baby. You trust me?” He asked, that lusty glint in his eye returning as he reached out for his piercer pen.

You nod. You don’t know exactly what he’s referring to, but you knew no matter what he asked you to do, you’d do it with little to no protest. Your dignity was fleeting, any rational thoughts being snuffed out by the heat in your core and the building slick in your panties.

“Say it. Out loud.” He requested simply, laying out the pre-packaged jewelry and needles on a tray next to him.

“I trust you, Dabi.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. You catch your lip between your teeth as you admire him again. His side profile was so pretty, every feature pointed and sharp.

“Good girl. I’m going to touch you now, to mark these pretty things up.” He says, turning back to face you.

“Please.” You say, mentally chiding yourself. Jeez, why wouldn’t you say ‘go ahead’ or ‘okay’, now you sound desperate.

But Dabi enjoyed the way the word sounded on your tongue, and he knew he would drive you to the point of saying it over and over again. His fingers are icy when they land on the supple tissue of your left breast. He holds it just because he knows he can, letting your breasts hang as they would naturally so your piercing comes out perfect. He is still a professional, after all. He marks either side of your nipple before moving to the next side and repeating the action.

He watched your areolas constrict even more, making him smile. He’s seen quite a few pairs of titties, but none made his pants feel as tight as they do now. “I’m sure you’ve done your research, pretty girl? Y’know no one can go near these jugs for at least six months, probably closer to a year.” He peers up at you from his stool, and his question makes you blush again, or maybe just the eye contact.

“Y-yeah, not gonna be a problem. No one’s been near them for the past 6 months to a year already.” You chuckle to yourself, wishing you could keep your mouth shut once more. Why did you say that, just so he’d know you’re available?

“Noted.” Dabi simply replied, almost validating your compulsive need to overshare. It seemed as if he were genuinely wondering. “Sit at the edge of the chair for me, sweet thing.” He nodded towards the seat, putting on his gloves as you obeyed.

Suddenly, your nerves were focused on the pain you were about to endure, mind racing and body tingling with adrenaline. He picks up a needle and slides his stool back between your legs, using his other hand to drag his tray closer to him. “Aw, don’t be scared, dollface. I’ll take good care of you. You can squeeze my leg when it hurts, deal?” He offered, his stare much softer at the moment.

“Mhm.” You nod, trying to shove away all your worries. You had been through much worse, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this sexy body shop owner. You place your hand on his thigh, his body bent over to have a good angle on your chest.

“Take a deep breath.” He waits for you to follow his instruction before moving on, “Ready and–” He jabs the needle through your delicate skin, humming pleasantly at your reaction. You squeeze down on his leg with most of your strength, wincing barely.“Good girl,” He praises, dragging out the ‘o’ sound to show how impressed he was. “Here goes number two.” He warned, quickly lining up for the other side.

“I know it’s brutal but you’ll thank me later. Deep breath.” He cues, waiting for your sharp intake of breath before pushing through your other nipple. “There you go, that’s it.” He cooed, patting the hand you left resting on his leg. He slides backward on his stool to get a better look. “Oh yeah babe, those look perfect on you.” He smirks, guiding you to stand.

You cling to his hands shakily, the adrenaline still coursing through your body. He leads you to the mirror on the wall, letting you see your newly decorated chest. You beam, pleased with the results. The pain really wasn’t so bad when you’re daydreaming about the piercer. His hands rest on your hips, his touch so light you almost didn’t feel it until you saw his grip in the mirror. Your eyes flicker back up to his gaze staring at you through the reflection. He’s smirking, like he always is, watching your expression eagerly. His presence suddenly hits you again all at once. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, just inches away from yours. His breath is icy, fanning over your face and tickling your neck.

Before you can think better of it, you press your ass back against him. Your eyes widen once you realize what you’ve done, but his arm slides around your waist to hold you there before you can panic. “Hm, good to know it wasn’t just me.” He cooed into your ear, pressing his bulge against your backside. His other hand slides up your body, careful of your fresh piercings, until his fingers are grasping your jaw, the arm around your waist retreating slightly, his hand resting above your clothed crotch. “Did you want something, sweetheart?” He asks, his eyes dancing like the flickers of blue flames.

You open your mouth to speak, but close it quickly once you realize you don’t know what to say. His fingers dig into your cheeks a little more, demanding a response. “Y-yes, I..I want to feel you..please!” You manage, cheeks growing hotter by the second. He rewards you by unbuttoning your pants, the zipper soon to follow. He lets go of your face in favor of yanking your pants down your legs, prompting you to step out of them and kick them aside. You hear him click his tongue.

“No panties either? Are you sure you weren’t planning on this the whole time darlin’?” He chuckles, grabbing your hips again to turn you to face him. He admires your fully exposed body, drinking in the curves of your frame and the fullness of your ass. He might be devastated that he can't play with your tits, but he can destroy everything else. He didn’t miss the contemptuous glare you threw his way, making him chuckle deeply again. “Oh I’m sorry angel, this is a little unfair, huh?” He asked, pulling his jacket off, paper thin t-shirt soon to follow.

You grin softly, reaching your hands out tentatively. He grasps your wrists and plants them firmly on his chest. “Don’t be afraid, pretty baby. You can’t hurt me.” He teased, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he slid his own sweatpants off, discarded elsewhere. His hands land in the dip of your waist, his touch is gentle for just a moment, until he’s using this grip on you to push you backwards until you’re sitting on the tattoo chair again, legs kept open by his figure standing between them. Dabi kneels to the floor, breathing directly over your throbbing heat. You moan involuntarily, just from the sight of the man looking up at you with the carnivorous look in his eyes.

He hums at this, the sounds he can get from you without even trying to stroke his ego and grow his cock in his boxers.He hooks his arms around your legs, pulling your pussy to his face without another passing second, causing you to gasp out in surprise, He lets his long tongue lap at your center, just tasting how worked up you already were. He drags your own fluids languidly up and down the entirety of you, his lips trapping your clit. When his tongue flicks at it, you gasp again, the cold metal unnoticed previously. You shouldn’t be surprised, most everything else was pierced, which only left his…

The sound of his own satisfied grunts drag you away from picturing his length, not expecting him to enjoy himself so much. You feel one of his arms leave you, causing you to open your eyes and figure out why. You smile, your confidence building once you notice the man palming himself over his boxers, unable to resist touching himself while devouring your sweet pussy. “Taste good, honey?” You coo, a taunting lilt to your voice.

The tone of your voice makes him fluster, determined to satisfy you so completely that there would be nothing for you to say, you wouldn’t be able to form words if you tried. He stands abruptly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing your neck with gentle pressure. “You talking shit up here, darlin’?” He arches his brow, analyzing your shocked expression. “Now c’mon baby, you didn’t think you could get away with that, now did you?” His slender fingers tighten around your throat slightly. The pressure makes your head buzz, every nerve on your body craving his everything.

“Open your mouth.” He says, thumbing at your bottom lip with his free hand. You obey instantly, your body arching out toward him in a need to replace his missing touch. He smirks and spits, slightly off center, watching as your tongue darts out to claim whatever he missed. “Taste good, honey?” He mocks, his hand dipping to rub quick circles around your bundle, keeping you from responding. The only thing you can do is gasp and moan breathily. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I knew you were a little freak, acting so cute and innocent.” He coos, crashing his lips on yours. He was rough, but you craved that. His lips were soft, but that was about the end of his softness, the way his mouth moved against yours like you were the breath he needed to survive, the way his other hand clutched the back of your neck to keep you from escaping, how his occupied fingers moved fervently around your sweet spot. It was getting hard to handle, the pressure in your gut building to it’s toppling point as his slender fingers slipped into your eager hole, curling and hitting your insides with ease. You screamed, legs twitching as your first orgasm crashed over you, causing you to flush with embarrassment. He didn’t let you recover, grabbing you up and turning you to your stomach. You caught yourself quickly, turning your head to see over your shoulder, watching Dabi shed the last layer of his clothing.

It was just as you thought, his solid and achingly long cock was studded with piercings, making you weak in the knees. He smirked, noticing your stare. “Oh baby, you have no idea… I can’t wait.” He chuckled, lining up to your entrance. He palms the swells of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can watch the way your pussy puckers around him, sucking him in eagerly. He gives it to you in one push, letting you experience his excruciating thickness, stretching your insides to accompany him. The piercings tickle your gummy spot, making your vision blur almost immediately. Dabi was so grateful for the mirror in front of you on the wall, able to drink up all your lovely expressions of pleasure.

“That’s my girl. Look at you baby, takin’ it so good for me.” He growls, driving his body weight into his already powerful thrusts. Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out, your mind so utterly blank. You feel his body lay over yours, his hand grabbing your jaw like he liked to so often. “I said look at yourself.” He demanded, eyes taking in the way your tits clapped together with the force of him. You open your eyes, but admittedly the only thing you’re looking at is him, the sweat pooling on his brow, the way he gnawed on his lip, his hands gripping you so hard his knuckles are white and you know there will be bruises left to remind you of the way he looks in this moment.

“Y-you’re.. s’pretty.” You whine, falling to your forearms as you begin to crumble again. He hums, propping his leg up on the chair to drive in at a deeper angle.

“That’s all you, sunshine.” He coos, the sounds you make in return borderline animalistic. It gives him goosebumps, to hear how loud you can get in his honor. He knows he’s close, but he doesn’t want this to end. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, letting it come back down in a harsh slap to your ass. He smiles as the handprint he leaves behind glows bright red and you barely holler at the sensation.

Your screams go silent again, your body unable to move with him any longer. Your hips ache, his abuse of your insides causing everything to go black. You swear you see new colors as you cum once again, tightening around his shaft.

“Oh fuck babygirl.” He groans, squelching and slapping noises filling the air. “You want my cum?” He asked, leaning his weight back over you.

You can only nod, clutching the chair for dear life. “Please! Oh, god, Dabi please!” You choke out, wishing for nothing more than to feel his relief pool in you.

He smirks, knowing he would love the way you beg for him. It wasn’t another thrust before he was helplessly draining himself inside you, slowing down his sinful pumps until he was still. Both of you are breathing heavily, and his eyes are still locked on your body in the mirror. He massages at your sore hips, wincing slightly at the bruises already forming. “I can get ya some ice, doll.” He offers sheepishly, dick still sheathed inside.

You giggle and shake your head. “No, no, I’m okay..it’ll remind me of you.” You hum, a smirk of your own on your face. Dabi had his way with you, as you wanted, but you knew he would be addicted to the feeling.

He kissed the back of your neck and leaned into your ear. “Now tell me you wish you came back another day.”

#todoroki x reader #mha x reader #my hero acedamia #my hero academia x reader #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #smut #dabi smut #dabi x female reader

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idontplaytrack · 4 months

Text

No, idiot

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: coarse language, fluff

Just a cute little peek into their day, home alone while Janis’ parents are on a trip. Ft. ‘Imi’ike! younger sister reader(1 year younger) & Cady Heron

Inspired by this incorrect quote by @frogs00 & @magicmumu2 <3 :)

“Jan.” She hears Regina calling her name. But she ignores her, more focused on her phone— she was currently texting you.

“Janis.” She hears again. Ignored.

“‘Imi’ike.” Regina huffs, tossing a cheese puff at her face.

Janis shrieked. “What?”

“I’ve been calling for you forever.” Regina smirks, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Texting y/n.”

“Why? She’s fine. She’s at the grocery store.”

“I know she’s fine. I just want her to get my damn gummy worms.” Janis sulked.

Regina nearly snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Janis pulled a face, tossing her phone aside after reading your text.

“Nothing, you’re just cute. Can’t I think you’re cute?” Regina shrugs, “Idiot.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Janis scoffs, grabbing a couch cushion and tossing it Regina’s way. The blonde easily caught it and set it down. “Don’t make me hit you back with this.”

“Thought you already would’ve.” Janis flashes her a cheekily smile then picked up her phone when it buzzed. “NOOOO.”

“What?” Regina cracked a smile.

“They don’t have the gummy worms I wanted.” Janis sulked.

“So, just get something else?” Regina scooted closer, wrapping an arm around the smaller girl. “I’ll get you those you like next time we’re out.”

“Dude, I’ve been craving for that specific brand of gummy worms. I finally got her to cave and get me a bag and they’re out of stock.” Janis deadpanned.

“Babe, if you say ‘gummy worms’ one more time…I will laugh.”

“Ugh, forget it. It’s such a stupid thing anyway.”

Regina tilted Janis’ face and presses a kiss to her lips, “Cheer up. We’re home alone.”

Janis chuckled mockingly, “With my sister.”

“Like she would care what we do.” Regina replies.

“It’s stressful knowing she’s like two doors down.” Janis rolled her eyes.

“You could be quiet.”

“Tsk.” Janis looks up, glaring at the blonde, “Talk about yourself.”

Regina smirks again, then laughed breathily, “She’s not here now.”

“No.” Janis says, “We’re not doing anything now.”

“Okay.” Regina agrees without a fight.

“But when she goes out to watch a movie with Carly tonight, sure.”

Regina says, eager, “Ooh, okay.” Janis giggles a little. “Who’s Carly again?” Regina asks. “Is that the girl she has a crush on?

“The girl she likes, yeah.” Janis answered.

“Right.” Regina nods, tracing random shapes and lines on Janis’ forearm, “Did y/n tell her yet?”

“No, but the tension? It’s there alright.” Janis laughs at the recollection, “Every time I see them together, they’re like— flirting. To me at least.”

“Maybe they need a little nudge.” Regina winks.

“I am not meddling. They’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Regina said back, “So we know your sister’s queer because she came out to us. But is Carly?”

“I dunno. She never said anything more than ‘I think I like her’.”

Regina hums, “Oh. Hey, what’s for lunch?”

“Food, usually.” Janis answered without hesitation.

“No, idiot, I mean what are we having?” Regina was biting back a laugh.

“An unwanted conversation.” Janis smiled, earning a playful shove from the blonde.

“Why is your sister at the grocery store?”

“She said she wanted to cook something, I dunno. She’s old enough to drive, I don’t have to watch her like a toddler.” Janis shrugs.

Regina scoffs, “And you couldn’t have just said she was gonna cook?”

At this moment, they hear a familiar jingle of keys. You were home. “Hi, baby.” Regina greeted. “Hey.”

Janis squints, noticing a change in your mood. Not in a good way. “y/n, what’s wrong?”

“I ran into Carly at the donut shop I stopped at on my way home.” You began, “I was planning on telling her that I liked her tonight, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Janis and Regina shifted on the couch to make space for you in between them. You sat down. “She was there with a boy. And they kissed.” You started to explain, recalling the images in your head, “She was the one who started flirting with me first so I flirted back. I don’t even know when she got a boyfriend— she didn’t tell me. If she did, I wouldn’t have been so stupid and continued. I should’ve guessed it when she canceled on me last minute for the last few times. I’m so stupid.”

“No. No one could’ve just guessed something like that.” Janis disagrees, “And don’t you dare call yourself stupid. You are not stupid.”

“What can we do to make you feel better?” Regina asks seriously.

“I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like shit. I don’t even know what I want to do.” You admit.

“How about we get our friend Cady to come hang out, and you two can chat? See where that goes?” Regina suggested. Janis was alarmed, “Really? You think this is the right time for that?”

“Actually, yeah. Please do that.” You agreed, “I don’t want to think about Carly anymore. I honestly just need a clean break from her. Now that my feelings for her are no longer platonic. It’s not gonna help if I stay friends with her.

“I don’t get it.” Janis says.

Regina chuckles, “Right. You don’t know this, but word has it that Cady likes your sister.”

“Cady?”

“Yes. And she has a crush on Cady too.”

“I never thought she’d like feel the same way, too, in my defence. She’s way out of my league. She hangs out with you.” You said, looking at Regina.

“She didn’t hang out with me.” Regina pointed to Janis, “But she’s my girlfriend now. So your point?”

“Is that I’m nervous.” You looked at the blonde dead in the eye, “Okay, it’s silly to have two crushes at once but hey, if you’re gonna offer to text her for me so we can hang out, I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Is this not too rushed?” Janis raised her concern.

“No, I’m done with Carly. Nothing has to happen between me and Cady— we’re just hanging out, getting to know each other.” You replied firmly.

“Okay, if you say so.” Janis smirks, grabbing her phone.

“What are you laughing at?” You squinted at Regina.

“Just the fact that sooner or later, the whole of our friend group’s gonna be kissing each other.”

Janis chortled, “She’s right. Karen and Gretchen. Me and her. I mean, Damian’s…Damian. Then you and Cady, maybe?”

“Okay, I take it Janis is texting Cady. I will make us a nice lunch. You don’t worry about anything at all — just look pretty for your crush.” Regina decided. “Requests?”

“Just make whatever you want.” Janis shooed her away.

“Fine. Chicken and waffles?”

“Sounds good.” You told her as she walked into the kitchen and checked out your grocery haul.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Janis. Just need a good cry in the shower later on. All a part of life, right?” You chuckled dryly, “We’ve been friends forever. Maybe that’s why it felt so easy to be catching feelings for her. It’s not her fault, I just wish she would’ve told me she was seeing someone just like she’s told me everything else. Then it wouldn’t have been so sudden and such a punch in the gut. Also, the fact that she acted as if I already knew when she introduced me to him? I knew I had to leave her. She wasn’t honest with me. I don’t want someone like that in my life anymore.”

Janis puts her arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “You’ll be alright, bubs. We got your back.”

“Thanks, Janis.” You blinked profusely, trying to avoid the crying.

“Let’s watch a movie, alright? You pick one. I’ll be back in a second. Just gonna grab us some snacks.”

��Do you guys want cookies or brownies?” Regina asks from across the room.

“Both.” Janis requested.

“No, idiot. Pick one.” Regina laughs, “I’m using the boxed mixes in the pantry. So if your parents ask, it was me.”

“The cookies, please.” You replied, “Thanks, Reg.”

“I was hoping you’d pick the brownies, but I’ll listen to you because you’re in a bad mood and I’m trying to help you feel better if not Janis’ll kill me.”

“I will not.” Janis gasps, offended.

“You’re capable of it.” Regina retorted, “You lit my backpack on fire.”

“Wrong.” You chimed in, “She lit your unicorn on fire. Your backpack was collateral damage.”

“I’m joking.” Regina tries not to grin but still did at this interaction. She’d never admit it, but she obviously had a soft spot for Janis, but also, for you. She cares, but always hid her concern behind her usual attitude whenever she speaks or does something.

————

The smell of waffles soon wafted through the air, accompanying the aroma of the fried chicken. “Stop staring at my ass.” Regina looks over her shoulder.

Janis stuck her tongue out, “No.”

“Childish.”

“I’ll bite you.”

You laughed, hugging a couch cushion close while your eyes were glued onto the TV screen. Before you knew it, Janis was hopping off the couch and jumping onto Regina’s back while the blonde was plating the food. “Hey!” Regina exclaimed. “Damn, I could’ve dropped this on the floor, baby.”

“As long as you don’t drop me on the floor.” Janis continues, resting her chin on Regina’s shoulder.

“Will you please get off me?” Regina asked, “Lunch is ready.”

“Fuck, you’re a great cook.” Janis admired the food on the table.

“Thank you~ I try.” Regina says, “Off.”

“Fine.” Janis pouted, standing back on the ground.

Regina retaliated by smacking her on the ass. “Ow! Damn you!” Janis shrieked, “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Gladly.”

Sighing, then laughing lightly as you watched them joke around with each other, you walk over to the kitchen, joining just briefly to grab your plate. You ate in front of the TV while your sister and her girlfriend ate in the dining area.

“y/n, the cookies are done if you want them.” Regina tells you. You nodded, not paying much attention to her than you were the movie. “You okay?” Janis asks.

“Mhm.” You confirmed, then Janis realised you were watching your favourite movie. Which explained why your eyes were practically glued to the screen. She shrugs, “Cady’s arriving soon.”

“Okay.”

Regina laughs, “Damn, what the kind of movie is she watching for her to be so focused on it?”

“Tangled.”

“What?” Regina chortled, “Tangled?”

“Well, she likes it. Let her enjoy it.” Janis retorted.

“I didn’t say anything about not letting her enjoy her movie.” Regina squinted, “You have syrup on your chin, idiot.”

“Whatever.” Janis shrugs, “I’m still eating, anyway.” Regina grabs a napkin and leaned forward to help Janis clean it off. Janis gives her a childlike grin, mouth full of the chewed up waffle and chicken, “I’m your idiot, though.”

“What is this? Are you like, about to get a sugar rush?” Regina was more amused by her little antic than she expected.

“Maybe.”

“Oh, boy.” Regina sighs, watching the brunette happily munching on the food. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Janis rolled her eyes playfully, “Aw, thank you so much.”

The doorbell rings, interrupting their silly banter. “Cady’s here.” Janis declared. “I’ll get the door. She’s um…doing that.” You put down your plate and went to answer the door.

“y/n! Hi!” The redhead gives you a bright smile, you stepped aside to let her enter.

“Hi.” You flashed her a small smile in return.

“I made chicken and waffles. Help yourself.” Regina began, “y/n’s watching Tangled, and Janis is currently giggling to herself because she’s had too much sugar.”

Cady couldn’t help but laugh, especially with how she said it, “Oh, I love Tangled. It’s my favourite movie.“ Your head whipped around so fast to look at her, “It is?”

“Oh, yeah. I haven’t watched many movies, but yes. That’s my favourite one.” She confirms, glancing at you on her way to the kitchen. After getting her share of food, Cady joins you in the living room to watch the movie together with you.

“She likes you, Caddy.” Janis giggles, “Oh, god. I need to stop doing this.”

“Janis!” Your eyes widened, horrified.

“She does this a lot, I’m sure she’s just—” Cady tells you.

“Yeah, she does.” You laughed awkwardly, “But um, Regina said you liked me…?”

Her cheeks flushed a light pink, “Um…” Your heart starts slamming in your chest, waiting for her to respond.

“Yeah, I— I do.” Cady spat out after putting her half-eaten plate of food down, “Do you…”

“Y—” You stuttered, “Yes, I do. I like you, too.”

Janis’ giggling snapped you out of it, “Regina, please don’t tell me you put stuff in her food.”

“Why would I do that? She’s a handful as it is.”Regina laughs, “Okay, that’s it, you’re not eating anymore of this. You are acting like a child.”

You were trying not to laugh, but seeing Janis being babied like this by Regina was far too entertaining to you and Cady.

“Fineee.” Janis huffs. “Take a shower with me.”

Regina’s brows were raised, bewildered. Then her signature smirk was plastered on her face again, “Okay.”

Janis stopped fidgeting, looking at Regina solemnly, “Really?”

“Fuck it, yeah. We’ll let these two babies have their alone time, while we have our fun.” Regina looked at you and Cady then back at Janis. “Will you two be okay alone? Of course, who am I kidding, you guys aren’t kids.”

“We’ll be fine, Regina. Just gonna hang out here.” Cady assured, “You two just…lock your door.”

“Don’t even worry about that.” Regina takes Janis by the wrist and pulled her up. Janis lays her head on Regina’s chest, “Carry me.”

“God, babe. The syrup on your chin is on my shirt.” Regina seethed, but she didn’t stay annoyed for long and just complied, “Fine, clingy. Cady, not a word. To anyone.”

————

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

#mean girls 2024 #auli’i cravalho #renee rapp #janis ‘imi’ike #regina george #janis ‘imi’ike x regina george #sibling reader #female reader #reader insert #wlw #wlw fluff #queer #queer fiction #mgmm fics #inspired

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holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

A parted land (5)

Summary: Alphas are almost extinct, and omegas rule the new world.

Pairing: Nomad!(Alpha)Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader, Feral!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Characters: Stephen Strange

Warnings: dystopian world, language, a/b/o, Steve is smitten by you, mentions of extinction and death, a hint of fluff, possessive/protective Steve, scenting, feral Bucky

A/N: It's been a while, huh...

Divider @firefly-graphics

A brand-new land (4)

No man’s land masterlist

“Bucky?” You ask while keeping an eye on the alpha chained to the ground. “You know that man? How?”

“He’s…” Steve doesn’t know how to explain to you how much the man chained to the ground means to him. “I guess you know him as the Winter Soldier. But before all that, he was my best friend. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Oh—OH! Sorry, I didn’t remember the name,” you crouch down to get a better look at Bucky. “I think I read an article about him some years back.”

“Buck, what happened,” Steve crouches down next to you, to make sure that Bucky doesn’t see him as a threat. “Can you hear me, my friend? It’s me, Steve.”

Bucky lifts his head. He sniffs in your direction and purrs low in his throat. His eyes glow scenting an omega after what feels like ages.

“Omega,” he growls. “OMEGA!”

“Y/N, maybe you should leave. I don’t think your presence will help—” Steve huffs when you slowly crawl toward his friend. “Y/N! What did I just say?”

“Your presence won’t help him,” you shush Steve. He’s a possessive and jealous alpha and doesn’t want to share you with his friend but this can’t be helped.

“Y/N…omega…” Steve licks his lips. “Be careful. He won’t remember that he used to belong to my pack and that he's my best friend.”

“Well, I’ll make him part of my pack then,” you scoot closer to Bucky. “I won’t hurt you.” You softly speak to the alpha who flinches when you lift your hand. “Hi there.”

“Omega,” Bucky snarls.

“Look at you,” you coo and carefully run your hand over his metal arm. “A strong and wild alpha right in front of me.”

Bucky tilts his head.

“What’s your name,” you move even closer, earning a snarl from Steve. “I’m Y/N, and you know the grumpy alpha watching us. It’s Stevie, your friend.”

“Stevie,” Bucky repeats. “Omega.”

“We won’t hurt you, Bucky,” you sit next to him to inhale his scent deeply. Just like Steve before, Bucky’s scent makes your toes curl, and you purr low in your throat.

“Fuck,” Steve curses loudly watching your reaction when you catch his friend’s scent. “Y/N, be careful.” He says again, afraid you will turn your back on him.

“What does a pretty alpha like you do in this cell?” You move closer again to run both of your hands over Bucky’s chest and up to his neck. “Don’t you want to join my pack?” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “I wouldn’t mind having two alphas.”

Steve grits his teeth. He puffs his chest and snarls in your direction.

“Y/N.”

“Shush, Steve. He’s slowly relaxing,” you stop Steve from dragging you out of the room to show everyone he laid claim on you. He may be an alpha, but you have been the leader of a pack for longer than him.

Bucky allows you to touch his chest, he hums and watches you run your hands over his body.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks. “You’re my omega.”

“I think you got something wrong,” you look over your shoulder to size Steve up. “You’re part of my pack. My alpha. This doesn’t mean my pack cannot grow. Bucky needs a pack, and I’m the one in charge.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. He looks away and sniffs.

“Are you pouting?” you smirk at Steve. “Aw, you’re still my favorite alpha, okay. Why don't you come over here and allow Bucky to scent you too? Move slowly and lower your head. We don’t want him to lash out.”

“Captain Rogers, I don’t think this is a good idea. I needed months before he stopped snapping at me. He’s still a feral alpha. Your friend or not.”

“We need any help to rebuild this world or set your plan into motion. If we want to fix the mess our world is, we will need this alpha,” you snarl in Strange’s direction. You still don’t trust him. Maybe it’s because of his powers or the fact that you can’t scent him.

“Buck, it’s me,” Steve follows your order. He slowly moves toward you and his friend, head bowed to not scare or anger his friend. “Steve. You remember me, right? We are friends. No. We are family.”

Bucky breathes heavily. He grits his teeth and starts fighting the magic chains holding him in place. The alpha growls loudly and tugs at the restraints.

“OMEGA!” He gets impatient because you stopped touching him. “MINE!”

“She’s mine, Buck,” Steve growls, making you flinch. Great. That’s the last thing you need. A feral alpha versus Captain America. “MINE!”

“Miss,” Stranges claps his hands. You are suddenly outside the room, and the door is back in its place. “You need to stay away from them. They haven’t seen an omega in years. Your scent is driving them up the wall, and they will kill each other if you remain inside the room.”

“Dr. Strange,” you sigh and place your hand on his shoulder. “I know you had a hard time protecting this place and finding a way to undo the events leading up to this point. But I was the leader of a pack for longer than five minutes. Alphas and Omegas followed my lead. So, leave this to me.”

“They will hurt you or worse,” worry flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. “What if they team up to mate you? What if I can’t save you?”

You chuckle. “Doc, that wouldn’t be the worst way to go down.” You grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. "If this goes awry, I have a diary in my backpack. I noted the location of the survivors I met. Maybe it helps.”

“Y/N don’t do this,” he tries to stop you, but you touch the door, and it disappears. “If you need me, just think my name.”

You nod and step inside the room, immediately catching both alphas' attention. They look your way, eyes glued to you as their chests heave up and down.

“We need to talk this out, guys,” you look over your shoulder at Strange. “Release him. If he attacks us, I’ll scream, and you can get us out like you did with me before.”

Strange nods and claps his hands. The door reappears, and the chains holding Bucky to the ground disappear. The alpha cocks his head. He looks at you, purring low in his throat.

You expect him to pounce on you and scent you, but he sits back on his heels, just watching you and Steve for a moment. He tilts his head, eyes zeroing in on Steve.

“St-“ you shriek when Bucky pounces on Steve, not you. You’re ready to help Steve but the feral alpha sniffs at Steve’s neck, growling low in his throat. “Steve.”

“Buck,” Steve tries not to give in to his instinct and pushes the alpha off him. He lies stiffly under his friend, allowing the alpha to scent him. “How have you been?”

“Guys, that’s not what I had in mind,” you chuckle nervously. “Is there something I should know? How close are you and Bucky?”

“We are friends. No – after all we’ve been through together, we are brothers,” Steve looks up at Bucky, a content smile on his lips. “He used to protect me when I was still the sick and small boy from Brooklyn.”

Bucky considers Steve’s words. He looks at you, eyes darkening as his eyes land on your marred mating gland. “OURS?” He asks, eyes searching Steve’s.

“Ours,” Steve confirms without missing a beat. “Only ours…”

More tags in reblog.

No man’s land

@undecidedsworld, @pono-pura-vida, @balloncinveronnie

#steve rogers #alpha!steve rogers #bucky barnes #alpha!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stephen strange #a/b/o #dystopian au #no mans land (5)

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whatsnewalycat · 5 months

Text

Passenger / Chapter 6

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Three)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]

Chapter Summary: Charlie strikes a deal with the mechanic.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.3k+

Content / Warnings: yearning, slow burn, horny thoughts, food mention, eating, handcuffs, one bed, shower, dog grogu, guns

Notes: None really. Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

A bell chimes when Din pushes open the door to Giddyup Auto, and again when he lets it swing shut behind you.

It’s just as cluttered inside the shop as it is outside. Pornographic magazines have been stacked alongside NAPA catalogs and tattered notepads on top of tool boxes. Promotional branding from popular auto parts manufacturers patch the steel walls, occasionally broken up by snarky signs that read things like KWITCHERBITCHIN AVE and I CAN FIX ANYTHING EXCEPT STUPID.

Country music crackles from blown speakers at the back of the shop, echoing off the tall ceiling. The rough, strained sound blends horribly with a high-pitched whir coming from beneath a 1989 Dodge Ram 250.

Din inhales the scent of motor oil and metal shavings. Adolescent nostalgia wells up in his chest like pride, some vague understanding of what it means to be a man. The responsibility of maintenance. Caretaking and custodianship.

He catches a glimpse of his adoptive father wringing his hands with an oil-soaked rag while rattling off the basic components of an internal combustion engine. Then he blinks it away.

Out of the corner of his eye, you adjust your grip on the wriggling dog, slipping one hand beneath his bottom and the other across his chest. Grogu huffs at the intrusion, but once he’s steadied to a higher vantage point, he seems pleased. His ears stand at attention, jowls sealed shut, the tip of his snout twitching with curiosity.

Both you and the dog look around the garage with the same kind of wide-eyed wonder. Two explorers ready to investigate this whole new world. Din leads the way deeper into the automotive bay, following the shrill grinding sound to the old rusted-out truck.

When he comes to a halt, so does the noise, then Paul slides out from under the truck on a creeper.

“Hey there! Sorry, I didn’t hear y’all come in,” he gestures to the impact wrench in his hand as he sets it down.

“Hi, Paul,” you greet him with a cheerful smile.

Rising to his feet, he beams, “Miss Charlie, how’re you today?”

The twinkle in his bright eyes makes Din feel uneasy. Strands of gray streak his dark beard and pepper his slicked-back hair. Hard-earned wrinkles crease his face. He’s twice your age at least, and Din can’t quite determine whether his intentions are cordial or flirtatious.

Either way, you hardly seem to mind. You perk up at the attention, taking a step towards him as you reply, “Can’t complain. Yourself?”

“Oh, just fine. Annie get y’all set up at the motel?”

“She sure did. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, y’know, after being on the road for so long. Thank you for recommending it to us.”

“‘Course. Yellow Seed’s been treatin’ you alright?”

“Yeah! We got to poke around a little yesterday. Went and got supper at the Outlaw Saloon, which was good,” you glance at Din and chuckle a little, “The locals didn’t seem too keen on us. Got a few dirty looks, but that’s not surprising.”

Paul laughs at this, crossing his arms as he leans back against the truck, “Well, you know, we small town folks don’t always like outsiders.”

“I’m used to it,” you shrug dismissively, then your face lights up, “But, hey, I talked to the owner and they’re gonna let me play a couple sets tomorrow night if you wanna swing by.”

“No shit?” Paul grins and catches himself, “Pardon my language—”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off.

“Playin’ a few sets at the Outlaw Saloon,” Paul repeats, shaking his head with amusement, “What kinda music you play?”

“I know a little bit of everything. These kinds of gigs, I try to feel out the crowd. I catch a country music kinda vibe around here, so probably some Hank Williams Jr, Alan Jackson, Johnny Cash. Stuff like that,” you tilt your head at him, “Got any requests?”

“Know any Waylon Jennings?”

“Sure, I have a few of his tunes up my sleeve. Any particular song?”

“Surprise me,” he winks.

Din tries to retain his stoic demeanor despite the discomfort writhing beneath his skin. The dog must pick up on this, because he whines at his owner and starts to squirm in your grip.

Struggling with Grogu’s protest, you ask Paul, “Is it ok if I set him down?”

“Go on ahead, darlin’,” Paul tells you, then turns to Din, “How about you? Settling in ok?”

“How much will it cost to fix?”

Paul raises his eyebrows and pushes off the truck, “Right down to brass tacks, huh?”

“He’s not much of a talker,” you smirk as you set the dog on the cement floor and start roaming around the shop, leash in hand.

“I can respect that.” His gaze lingers on your wandering form for a moment longer before he looks at Din and sighs, “Well, I had some luck calling around to a few junkyards lookin’ for salvaged or used parts. Found a good price for what I need. With that ‘n’ labor, it’ll run you twenty-five hundred, long as everything goes smoothly.”

Din weighs the cost against his bank account, factoring in the motel room, gas to get to the next job, and food for a few days. It would run him dry. His stomach tightens and twists. Before he can formulate a response, you chime in.

“Is there any way we can knock that price down?”

Paul crosses his arms across his chest and gives you a sympathetic shrug, “Way it stands, ‘fraid I can’t.”

You nod as you consider this, furrowing your brow at the floor, then look up at him, “What if we make a trade?”

“A trade?” Paul frowns.

“Yeah, or, you know. Some kind of a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch ours.”

Paul’s blue eyes flick between you and Din, “Wha’d you have in mind, sweetheart?”

Din’s first instinct is to shut down the conversation. But when you glance at him as if searching for approval, he doesn’t protest. You turn back to Paul and nod over your shoulder, “I noticed your sign out front is pretty faded. I could paint it if you knock a couple hundred off?”

Paul shifts his weight to one leg and wrinkles his nose. Not sold. You don’t let it deter you.

“I’ve done murals before, so this would be a piece of cake. It looks pretty shabby now, but I can make it,” you smack your lips, “pop. Maybe it’d bring in some more business for you.”

Shaking his head, he smirks at Din, “She’s persistent, ain’t she?”

“She is.”

“I am,” you confirm with a wide, toothy grin, “Whaddaya say? I do the sign, take off $500?“

Paul works his jaw from side to side, then slackens and sticks out his hand, “Five hundred.”

“Plus the cost of supplies,” you add.

“Plus the—” he cuts himself off with an amused chuckle, “You’re somethin’ else. Fine. Five hundred plus costs.”

When you shake his hand, a victorious, blinding smile spreads across your face. The corner of Din’s mouth turns up at the sight. He fails to correct his expression as you take a step back and glance at him. His heart skips in that brief moment where his eyes meet yours, before you drop your gaze to your feet and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Blush rises to your cheeks and neck, rosy splotches that bloom soft and full in his chest.

“Whaddaya think, should $100 do it?” Paul asks.

“I think we can make that work,” you nod, “Do you have paint brushes or rollers? Sandpaper?”

“Reckon I do. Hang tight, I’ll get y’all some cash, ok?”

Once he’s out of earshot, Din studies you, wondering out loud, “Why are you helping me?”

“Rule number ten: Be a stand up tramp,” you shrug, crouching down to scratch Grogu between his ears, “Plus, I don’t know, it just seems like… the right thing to do.”

Your answer perplexes him. He can’t come up with a response other than, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin up at him, then rise to your feet and change the subject, “I’m hungry. We should get lunch. And maybe get some groceries, too, so we—er, you don’t have to spend as much on eating out.”

The authority with which you suggest this causes him to chafe. He wants to push back for no reason other than to reclaim the upper hand. Your reasoning is sound, though. It’s not a bad idea.

“We can do that.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, lips curving into a delicate smile. Something flutters in his stomach, frantic and timid, urging him to put up a wall between you. But he keeps his eyes anchored to yours despite his internal warning bells.

The tight wire of tension slackens as Paul returns, counting a stack of wrinkled bills, “Here you go.”

You step forward to accept the cash, “Perfect. Thank you, Paul.”

“Are y’all gonna be able to carry everything back here, or do you wanna borrow my truck? Might be a little easier that way.”

“Really?” you grin and knit your brows together into a gracious expression, “We were thinking of grabbing lunch and getting some groceries, too. Would that be ok?”

“Fine by me, just bring it back in one piece,” Paul answers, fishing a set of keys from his jumpsuit pocket and handing them to you, “Ford F-150 out front.”

“Thank you, Paul. I—we really appreciate it,” you tell him, then look at Din and raise your eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes, thank you,” Din nods in agreement.

“Don’t mention it,” Paul says, then ambles back to the old rusted-out Dodge, whistling along to some old country song.

Keeping pace at his side as he starts towards the exit, you jangle the keys and ask, “Do you want me to drive?”

“Dream on, kid,” he scoffs, holding his hand out.

“Worth a shot,” you grin and place them in his palm.

“Would it be too predictable to put a horse on the sign?” you ask, frowning at your rough outline, “I feel like there are a lot of places out here that lean into the western motif, so it might be overdone. But the place is literally called Giddyup Auto, so…”

When Din doesn’t respond, you glance up and can’t quite tell if he’s looking at you or something in your general direction.

Stupid goddamn aviators.

“You know, it’s considered polite to take off your hat and sunglasses when you go indoors.”

Again, nothing.

‘Off in lala-land’ if you’ve ever seen it.

You blink at him a few times to no reaction, then raise your voice, “Did you hear me?”

This seems to do the trick.

It’s difficult to explain how you know his eyes are on you when they are. Maybe the microscopic tilt of his head or the twitch of his eyebrows. Mostly though, you would say that his attention carries a force. One minute you’re sitting there wondering if he’s looking at you and then—bam! It hits you. Absolute certainty.

Anyway, he looks at you and asks, “What?”

“Why do you insist on wearing your Unabomber costume all the time?”

He frowns and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

“You know, because—Oh for cripes’ sake, nevermind,” you scoff and sit up in your seat, turning your notebook to face him, “Here. Tell me what you think.”

He looks down at your notebook and pulls it closer. As he quietly studies the sketches, discomfort twists your skin raw. Imagining all the criticisms lingering at the tip of his tongue, you can’t stop yourself from speaking preemptively.

“The first one is pretty boring, but I think the font adds a little flair. I’d blend shades of orange for the background to make it stand out and white for the text.” You prop your chin up on the heel of your palm and lean forward, pointing to the second option, “I like the covered wagon as a concept, but it would take me a long time and I’m not sure if it fits the vibe since wagons are kinda slow. The horse is fast, obviously,” you tap the third sketch and shrug, “But, like I said when you so rudely ignored me, the western motif is sort of tired in this neck of the woods.”

Nodding, he comments, “They look… nice.”

Such a way with words.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for additional input to no avail. Raising your eyebrows, you release a big sigh and fold your legs up into the booth, “‘Nice.’ Ok, sure. Well, let me ask you this: Which one is your favorite?”

After a few seconds of contemplation, he taps the bucking bronco silhouetted over a mountain range, then pushes the notebook back across the table.

“Why that one?”

He shrugs, “It’s called Giddyup Auto.”

Instead of pointing out that you said the same thing earlier, you mutter, “Sure is, big guy,” and flip your notebook to a blank page, then start jotting down a shopping list, “We should get something for the pup while we’re out. I feel bad for leaving him behind.”

You wrinkle your nose at his silence, looking up to confirm that once again, he has drifted away.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You follow his line of sight, craning your neck over your shoulder to see the waitress approaching with a serving tray. Din straightens when she sets a plate in front of him.

“Ok, we have a breakfast platter number two,” she sets another plate in front of you, “And french toast with fruit.” Tucking the tray under her arm, she smiles between you and him, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Din tells her, a small smile gracing his lips.

She nods before turning to go, dragging his attention along with her. You watch him watch her, studying his wandering gaze. A grin spreads across your face. When he notices you staring, he immediately becomes defensive.

“What?”

Dead giveaway.

Suppressing a smile, you grab a butter knife and shake your head at your plate, “Nothing.”

“What?” he asks again, this time more pointed.

“I didn’t say anything!”

He scoffs and hunches over the plate to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.

After smearing whipped butter on your french toast, you pour syrup over your plate, glancing up at him when you ask, “Do you have a crush on the waitress?”

“No.”

Denial sours the word in the most obvious way.

Raising an eyebrow, you cut your food into bite-sized pieces as you tease, “I didn’t take you for a liar, Din. But I also didn’t take you for the kind of guy who has a soft spot for pretty service workers, so what do I know?”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. And of course, you decide to push the conversation further.

“I just mean… If you do—you know, like her or whatever—you should ask her for her number. Take her on a date. See if you can’t live a little while you’re holed up in this town.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you in that scenario?”

Twirling a chunk of french toast around on your fork, you shrug, “Maybe she wouldn’t mind your prisoner third wheeling. That’s probably not a red flag, right?”

“Not at all.”

You snort at him and he lets a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It seems to soften the atmosphere, both of you relaxing back in your seats. While chipping away at your food, you ponder a little to yourself, then out loud.

“Suppose your line of work, you don’t go on many dates, do you?”

Frowning at the strip of bacon pinched between his fingers, he tells you, “Not in the traditional sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Instead of answering the question, he pops the bacon into his mouth. When he swallows and you’re still staring at him, he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Come on, Din,” you meet his flattened expression with a grin, “You so know I won’t let this go. Might as well just spill the beans.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you like a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head with equal determination.

“‘Not in the traditional sense.’ So you do have romantic or sexual experiences, but society wouldn’t typically deem those experiences ‘dates,’ right?”

He says nothing.

“Hmmm… interesting,” you lean your elbows on the table, studying him, “You seem reluctant to talk about it, which indicates… Maybe you’re ashamed of it? Although, you’re pretty reluctant to talk about everything, so I don’t know how much weight to place on that. But you’re a trucker. Transient. Don’t seem like much of a ‘family man’ to me. So, what… you’ve gotta be a hookup guy or a sex worker guy, right?”

The way he squirms at the question makes your chest tingle.

“It could be both, too. I feel like you would be more of an opportunist than a strategist when it comes to fucking. Am I right?”

His jaw shifts from side-to-side. He glances around before leaning in, “And you’re much different?”

“No, not really.”

Most people would ask follow-up questions or awkwardly segue into a different subject, but not Din. He seems as content with your answer as you are with his. But where he goes back to eating, you feel a loose end rattling at the tip of your tongue and speak it into existence.

“I think… I think people like us don’t lay down roots for anything less than the spectacular,” you search his face, “Right?”

With his fork lifted halfway to his mouth, he pauses to look at you and nod, “This is the way.”

Din brings the shopping cart to halt in the middle of the aisle when you stop to examine jars of preserved nut and fruit spreads lining the shelves.

You pull a big plastic container of generic peanut butter from the lineup and toss it into the cart, “Four dollars, twenty-nine cents.”

He jots down the price in your notebook and adds it to the running total while you wrinkle your nose at the ingredient list of strawberry preserves, then set it next to the peanut butter, “Three sixty-nine. Gotta love that food desert markup. What’re we at?”

“Twenty seven, give or take,” he answers, crossing two items off the list.

“What else we got here?” Sidling up to him, you peek at the paper, “Snacks. Wow, ok past me, very specific.”

When you start walking again, he does too, and he wonders how you can possibly smell so good without the aid of perfumes. While not a definitive scent, it inspires a sensation much like when he’s parched and sets his sights on a glass of ice water. It’s enticing, like your very foundation radiates temptation.

He cannot have this. This thing in his chest, gnawing at his bones, trying to escape. It snaps at the walls when you’re nearby, which is always.

Maybe if he could relieve some of the pressure buckling under his skin it would quiet. But he can’t, so it doesn’t.

It begs and pleads and promises to absolve him of consequence as long as he promises to move a little bit closer, hold his hand to your back a little bit longer—just one more second and I’ll be content. Maybe another. What if you slid your hand around her waist and pulled her body to yours? How would she react? I bet she would like it. I bet if you kissed her she would finally be speechless. Just a taste, please?

He comes to a stop beside you and follows your gaze to the wall of chips. Hundreds of bags in all different sizes and colors, all of them glossy in the fluorescent light.

“Well, big guy. What’s your chip of choice?” you ask without looking at him.

Grinding his teeth together, he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Too many of the same goddamn choices,” you step forward to narrow your eyes at a price tag, “Am I crazy or does that say five dollars?”

“It says five dollars.”

“What the fuck, that is obscene. Do we really need chips?”

“Does anyone?”

“I guess not technically,” you sigh and start wandering further down the aisle, so he follows you. “But we don’t have to be so utilitarian about it. Junk food is for the soul, not sustenance. And sometimes the soul needs something salty and crunchy, you know?”

Nodding, he comes to a stop and points to the display of microwave popcorn, “We could get this instead.”

“Six bags for four dollars,” you raise your eyebrows, “Salty, crunchy, and cost efficient. Hell yeah, I’m sold.”

He grabs the box of generic popcorn in question and walks it back to the cart while you meander towards the sweets. When he meets you in front of the cookies, you glance at him, “Original or chewy?”

“Original.”

“Ten four, good buddy.” You grab the blue package of chocolate chip cookies and toss it in the basket, “Do you ever get to say that on your radio? Have a real trucker moment?”

“Yes.”

“Adorable,” you chuckle, catching his gaze for a moment before you look down and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Are you gonna help me with the sign today, or do you have other plans?”

“What do you need help with?”

You exhale through slack lips, then shrug, “Well, today is just prep. I have to scrape off the old paint, sand it down, and prime. It has to dry overnight, but I think I’ll be able to finish the rest tomorrow or the next day if we get up early…” Pausing to chuckle, you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, you could help me with scraping and sanding. It’s a real bitch and would be easier with your muscle. If—well, you know, only if you want to. You don’t have to or anything…”

“I can do that.”

Your eyebrows draw together as you search his face, “Yeah?”

He nods, “It’s the least I can do.”

As the two of you near the checkout line, a frail woman with closely-cropped white curls shuffles from a back office to the one and only cash register.

“How are we doing this? Splitting it?” you swing the backpack off your shoulder and start rummaging through it, “I should have some money in my wallet. It’s not much, but it should—”

He holds up a hand, “I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

That thing in his chest whimpers when you smile at him, big and bright and gap-toothed, sparing him a polite, “Thank you,” before you start unloading the groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Balancing the tips of your toes on the highest ladder rung, you stretch your roller towards the unprimed stripe of sign, but can’t quite reach it.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter, returning all fours to the ladder with a huff, then look back at Din, “Hey, can I borrow your tall?”

Your question bounces off him with no reaction.

Between the visor of his cap and the tablet glued to his face, you can’t quite tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just plain old can’t hear you. All that’s visible is his furrowed brow. So you shimmy down the ladder and set the paint roller in the tray, brushing your hands on your jeans as you approach his lawn chair, waiting for him to notice you.

When the brisk October air nips at your dirt-caked, sweat-soaked skin, you skip closer, tapping your foot against his calf, “Hey.”

He jumps as if broken out of a trance, then raises his eyebrows at you, “What?”

“Can you help me with something?”

His mouth flattens into a straight line. He looks down at the tablet, then turns off the screen and sets it aside to look up at you.

“See the top of the sign, how it’s all shitty still?” you point at the evidence, “Can you get it for me? I can’t reach.”

“Use the big ladder.”

“I didn’t think to grab it before Paul locked up for the night.”

He releases a big dramatic sigh, glancing down at the tablet before rising to his feet. As he passes you the handle of the dog leash, you grin and plop down in the warmed-up lawn chair, “My hero!”

“Uh-huh,” he shakes his head and starts towards the drop cloth.

Beneath the lawn chair, the dog wakes from his nap and tries to follow Din, huffing and puffing when the leash goes taut, then walks back to your feet and sits on your shoelaces. His big satellite ears stand at attention while his person shimmies up the ladder with a roller brush in hand.

The two of you sit there and watch Din with the same level of ardent attention, both perched on the edge of your respective seats, unable to tear your eyes away for a second.

At first you try to tell yourself that you’re not even looking at him, just mapping out the illustration you’ll start tomorrow. But the truth is, it’s hard not to be drawn in by the view. By his panoramic shoulders and muscle-bound arms stretching out the fabric of his flannel as he rolls the brush up and down, back and forth, spreading thick white primer across the freshly smoothed wood…

Despite the waning sunlight and icy gusts spilling off the mountains, heat bubbles up to the surface of your skin.

You know that once he’s finished, you’ll go back to the motel for the rest of the night. Given the thick layer of grime you each accumulated throughout the day, showers will likely be in order. Which, of course, means stripping down to nothing while he’s in the bathroom with you. And vice versa, probably.

Your imagination wanders to his naked body and how it would feel against yours. What if you argued in favor of water conservation, asking him to join you in the shower? What if he agreed? How would he look at you without those sunglasses covering his eyes? How would he touch you if morals weren’t involved?

Din climbs down off the ladder and walks over, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, “Is that it for today?”

He replaces the hat and takes off his aviators, cleaning the lenses with his shirt as he meets your gaze. The full force of his big brown eyes turns your saliva tacky and makes your heart stutter. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

Fuck, did he ask you something?

“Is that—? Oh, um,” you clear your throat, then nod, “Yep, that should do it. Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Flicking his eyes around your face, he nods, then turns back to the drop cloth, where he starts consolidating all the painting supplies.

With his legs stretched out across the perimeter of the bathroom’s tile flooring, back resting against the tub, Din types ‘Tom Boucheron’ into the search bar of a Portland-based web forum.

The search yields 83 matches. He starts sifting through the results, scrolling past subject lines that indicate general complaints about property management like rising rent and evictions and gentrification. Every once and a while he comes across subject lines that take on a more conspiratorial tone, though, mentioning the weight of his influence or his ties to police presence throughout the city. When he finds these posts, he clicks on the thread, copying and pasting the urls into a separate document.

He can delve deeper into these later, once he’s able to better focus. But right now, with the roaring cascade of the shower behind him and your enthusiastic rendition of Tiny Dancer by Elton John, this mechanical sorting is the maximum concentration he can muster.

Squinting at the screen, he wipes away the fog forming on his tablet. Moisture reclaims the area just as soon as it clears. He sighs and turns off the device when your vocals start ramping up to a volume he can’t ignore.

“—But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear meeee, when I say softlyyyy, slooowly—”

“Are you almost done?”

“You ruined the best part.”

“We’re going to get a noise complaint.”

You scoff, then he hears the thunk of you turning off the water. In his peripheries, your arm stretches out from behind the shower curtain to snatch the folded white towel off the toilet lid.

A few seconds later, the curtain pulls back and you announce, “I’m decent.”

He climbs to his feet while you step out of the tub, one hand securing the bath towel around your body, the other grabbing his arm for balance. Once sure-footed on the pink tiles, you let go and murmur, "Sorry,” before opening the door and padding off into the motel room.

Grogu runs into the bathroom to investigate as Din slips out and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He tries to anchor his vision to the floor, but finds his gaze drifting towards your movements out the corner of his eye. Humming to yourself, you comb your fingers through dripping wet hair and pull a few articles of clothing from your backpack.

“Are you gonna hop in too?”

His eyes tick to yours as you turn around, clutching a pile of clothing to your chest.

“Because, you know… if you need me to be in there with you or whatever, that’s fine,” you cast your gaze to the floor with a shrug.

He studies your bashful demeanor for a moment before responding, “I’ll have you sit in there with me once you get dressed.”

Without looking up, you give him a nod and walk over to the bathroom. As you put on clothing, Din uses all his will power to stare at the ground.

“What do you wanna do after that? We could watch a movie.”

His eyes cheat to the mirror on the wall, where he watches your reflection wrestle with a t-shirt. He catches a glimpse of your bare back before returning to the floor and clearing his throat.

“I thought you weren’t much of a movie person.”

“Well,” your footsteps soften onto the carpet, then your voice is closer, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time in a seedy roadside motel, I’m open to suggestions.”

He meets your heated gaze long enough for something to spark deep within his belly. The air between your body and his thickens with a palpable magnetism. His lips part to respond, but only one suggestion plays over and over again in his head. The mad yapping of that thing in his chest.

Before he can say or do something stupid, though, you look away and start fidgeting, “So, I’m dressed. Are you ready?”

Swallowing his tight throat, he pushes himself to his feet and locks eyes with you, “Go sit where I just was and put your head between your knees.”

“Wow, you’re taking this very seriously.”

“Let’s just get it over with, ok?”

You roll your eyes a little, but acquiesce.

Din trails behind you into the bathroom, shooing the dog from the room before closing the door. When he turns around, he finds you curled up on the floor, back pressed to the tub basin with your face buried in your knees.

“Like this?”

“Perfect. Stay like that, I won’t take long.”

For some reason he expected you would stay quiet while he disrobed, but you just continue talking as if you were accompanying him on any other menial task.

“I think it’s funny how you have me do this whole thing so I don’t see your dick, but when I need privacy, the most you give me is a turned back.”

Din glances at the top of your head while unbuckling his utility belt, then turns to spread it out across the bathroom counter, “That’s not the only reason I’m having you do this.”

“Then why?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of involuntary captivity?”

While you scoff and most likely try to come up with a rebuttal, he shucks off his flannel overshirt, then unfastens his shoulder holster and lines it up on the counter below the outspread belt. His hands work without much thought as he systematically unloads all three of his pistols. Eject the magazine, count the rounds, check the chamber.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, he moves the unloaded guns and utility belt to a high shelf over the toilet, then pulls off his undershirt.

“Can you at least confirm you’re not gearing up to murder me right now?”

If he wanted to tear your frayed edges, he could mention that you were begging him to do exactly that less than 48 hours ago. But since you’re somehow more irritating when in a foul mood, he doesn’t.

“If I was going to kill you I would have already.” He turns on the shower and takes a step back to make sure you’re still covering your eyes, then takes off his pants.

“Would you do it if you had to?”

The question gives him pause as he pulls back the shower curtain.

“Why would I have to?”

“I don’t know, because they asked you to do it.”

He frowns, “I wouldn’t do it just because someone asked me to.”

“You wouldn’t?”

The hopeful air in your voice eats at his stomach lining. Instead of answering or clarifying what he meant, he steps into the shower.

“Ok, but let’s say they gave you a good reason, and you were going to do it… kill me, I mean. How would you do it?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head and grabs a bar of soap off the shower ledge and starts to lather it against his skin.

“Are you ignoring me or thinking?”

“Ignoring you.”

“You know, I appreciate the honesty.“ Then, after a few seconds: “I promise not to leak your trade secrets, big guy. Come on, how would you do it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

With this, you go quiet.

Silence fills the bathroom for the remainder of his time in the shower, but Din’s thoughts are as loud and intrusive as your questions.

His mind becomes populated with scenarios in which you would end up in the sights of his pistol. Under what circumstances would he pull the trigger?

He imagines you stealing from him. He imagines trying to escape. He imagines it coming down to you or the money. He even goes so far as to imagine it coming down to you or him.

But each time the imaginary him goes to take aim, he falters.

While Din tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave, you survey the Room 10’s VHS collection.

“Ok let’s see,” you tilt your head sideways and read the titles, “Aladdin, Batman Returns, Twister—”

“You choose.”

Beeps sound from the microwave, then it hums to life.

You pull Aladdin from the shelf and admire the familiar cover art. Little flakes of deteriorated plastic break off the exterior and stick to your fingertips when you trace the title. You wince and mumble an apology to the inanimate object before prying it open to pull out the tape.

After feeding it to the VCR, you press rewind and hold up the cover to Din, “Ever seen this?”

When he takes a step closer to examine it, you note the details you’re not normally privy to. His damp curls and the heat of his pulse. Mostly, though, you become fixated on his eyes. Those devastatingly dark and warm eyes. His heavy brow and hooded lids, all the lines of age creeping out from the corners.

He meets your gaze and you swear you hear the snap of his full attention locking onto you when he frowns, “Can’t say I have.”

Somewhere far away, the popcorn starts popping. You feel yourself succumbing to his gravitational pull, subconsciously drifting towards him, and can’t really remember if you had a point in mind when you asked.

“It’s-it’s good,” you nod, letting your eyes drift to his mouth for a moment before you shrug, “I mean, from what I remember at least. I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It drove my grandma crazy cuz I’d make her watch it on repeat…”

It doesn’t really register how much information you’re disclosing until his eyes get all wide and doughy, at which point you take a step away from him and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, um, anyway. I liked it.”

He chuckles, causing you to grin, “What?”

“Nothing.”

His face tells you it’s definitely not nothing. It’s something if you’ve ever seen it. Something so gooey and hot it makes you ache. Dangerous, that’s what it is.

The VCR clicks and shifts gears, then the TV lights up with disclaimers. Taking it as a sign from above, you start back towards the bed and tease, “I totally get why you wear the sunglasses, by the way. Your eyes give everything away.”

Rather than admit you’re right, Din raises an eyebrow at you, then turns around to pull the microwave open before the timer reaches zero. While you slide under the covers and prop the flimsy pillows up behind your back, he pries open the steaming hot bag of popcorn and brings it to you.

“Thanks.”

He grunts in response and disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with the shiny metal handcuffs, “Lights on or off?”

“Off.”

When the lights go out, the dog jumps onto the bed, spinning around a few times before curling up into an adorable white ball. Din tosses the cuffs to your side as he crawls into bed beside you. Once you think he’s settled in, you offer him some popcorn, which he accepts.

“Do I have to put them on right now?” you ask, in reference to the cuffs.

He frowns and shakes his head, “I can wait until you’re ready.”

Nodding, you study his profile in the dim illumination from the TV. You don’t even realize you’re staring at him like a full-on creep until he says, “Stop giving me goo-goo eyes and watch the movie.”

Embarrassment flares up your neck and cheeks. You scoff, “I am not giving you goo-goo eyes,” and wriggle deeper under the covers, diverting your gaze to the TV.

I will not look at him for the rest of the night, you vow. Even if he asks me to, or talks to me, I won’t look at his stupid face until the sun comes up tomorrow.

You almost fulfill the vow, too.

Well… almost might be an exaggeration, but you make it to the end credits and that’s further than you really believed you could make it.

With the motel room all dark save for the faintest glow from the credits rolling onscreen, he asks, “Are you awake?”

You remind yourself of your promise and try to ignore him. If you say something, you’ll look at him. And if you look at him, you lose.

“Charlie?” he nudges you.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you glance over, and of course you catch his eyes, “Is it handcuff time now?”

He nods, almost apologetically.

“Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Go ahead.”

When you exit the bathroom and turn off the light, you find the room cloaked in darkness. The only reference point you have is the red glow of 9:12 on the alarm clock. You stretch your arms in front of you and start taking cautious steps towards it.

“Oh my god, I can’t see shit.”

“Want me to turn the lamp on?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

Your fingertips brush up against the bedspread, then you follow the alarm clock beacon to the side table.

“Here.”

His hand finds yours in the darkness. You grab ahold of it, trying your very hardest not to dwell on the warmth of his palm against yours as he gently guides you. When you finally settle between the sheets, he releases your hand. You almost wish he didn’t.

“Ready?”

“Sure.”

He closes the cold heavy steel around your wrist, then his. For a while, neither of you move. Anxious energy buzzes beneath your skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to trick yourself into being tired, but it only makes you notice how fucking quiet it is.

Resigning from your motionless state, you start wriggling around in an attempt to get comfortable. Din is accommodating while you do this, letting his wrist ragdoll wherever you drag it. You lie facing the wall for a while, fondling the knife you have tucked under the pillow. It doesn’t feel right. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Same problem.

Then, when you can’t stand it anymore—the dark, the quiet, the nerves—you roll on your side facing him.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I can’t fall asleep.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I said I can’t fall asleep.”

“I heard you the first time. What do you expect me to do about it?”

You open your mouth to ask him to fuck you, but nerves rob your tongue.

“Just talk to me for a while.”

“About what?”

“I dunno, whatever you want.” You tuck your cuffed hand beneath your cheek and scoot a little closer.

His silence holds the weight of contemplation, so you prompt him, “What would your genie wishes be?”

“Hang on, let me think.”

A few quiet seconds go by before he clears his throat and rolls on his side to face you. The back of his cuffed hand rests against yours, which brings you a shred of comfort.

“Financial security. Property rights to some land and a house, something out in the country.”

“Like a farm?”

“Something like that. Self-sustainable and off the grid. Maybe get a few animals and so I could live off the land.”

“That’s the dream, right? Fuck off to the middle of nowhere and not have to rely on anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s the dream.”

You hum, then ask, “What’s wish number three?”

“I… I’d rather not say.”

Your gut instinct is to push back, but you resist the urge and instead tell him, “That’s fine.”

“Thank you.”

There’s enough sincerity in his voice that a tinge of guilt twists in your belly, and you feel obligated to bring up an earlier conversation.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you to answer me when you were in the shower. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to shut the fuck up and let it be.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“Ok,” you wiggle around a bit and manage to find the perfect position, then close your eyes and release a content sigh.

“What are yours?” he asks.

“Mmmm… you know, I’ve thought a lot about this question—” A yawn swells in your chest, cutting you off. When it passes, your limbs feel heavy and warm. You continue, “I’d wish for the genie to be free.”

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “And what else, world peace? An end to climate change?”

“I hear your snark, sir, and I don’t appreciate it. No, I wouldn’t wish for world peace or the end of climate change. I wouldn’t wish for anything. Tricky bastard can keep his wishes, I make my own luck.”

“Tricky bastard, huh?”

Another yawn takes over. Lethargy seeps through your body, making your worlds come out slow and murmured.

“Yeah, y’know… all the, umm… the fine print. Too many strings attached, I don’t trust ‘em.”

“You sound tired.”

You hum, snuggling deeper into your pillow, “You sound tired.”

“Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Mmmkay,” you mumble, “Sweet dreams, Din.”

#din djarin x you #din djarin x ofc #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #passenger

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year

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7 Psychopaths: Yeonjun

x Summary: You are X, a seasoned assassin, and your boss has just assigned you an unusual task. You have two weeks to gather six men for a top-secret mission that requires their unique brand of psychopathy. The trick is, you've got romantic history with all of them.

A detail that might make this a walk in the park or the fight of your life. Time to find out...

x Pairing: assassin!yeonjun x assassin!chubby!fem!reader

x Genre: angst/crime au/smut

x Word Count: 2.1k

x Warnings: violence, blood, knives, guns, general criminal activity, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, strong language (naturally), a smidge of rough sex but nothing crazy, misogynists and xenophobes get their karma quite painfully

x A/N: This is #1 in a series of 6 stories featuring members of TXT/ATEEZ/Stray Kids. They all follow the same theme and can be read chronologically or you can jump around. I support the chaos.

| | Next Psychopath: Lee Know | |

This? This is bullshit.

You should be sitting first class on that bullet train to Kyoto right now, sipping tea as you watch the bustling streets of Tokyo fade into a blur of neon light. Instead, your ticket is ripped to shreds at the bottom of a gutter two countries over and you’re slumming it in the back alleys of Nowhere. With the exception of a few flickering streetlights ahead of you, it’s almost too dark to cast a shadow out here. “Too dark,” insists one of the drunken assholes trailing behind you, “For a pretty little thing like you to be out here all alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you count five of them. The ring leader, let’s call him Red Shirt, has enough liquid courage in him to lead the pack in announcing every filthy thing they’d do with you if you let them. You roll your eyes, pushing forward to your destination, dying to escape them and the unpleasant stench that the mugginess after tonight’s rainstorm has left lingering in the air. “She’s not listening to us,” teases Black Jacket, “Maybe she thinks she’s too good for you.”

The childhood trauma of rejection at the hands of an unloving mother flips a switch inside of Red Shirt that he’d know was there if he’d gone to therapy like his ex suggested and he’s charging towards you in seconds. Shoving your hands in the pockets of your long leather jacket, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself for a confrontation that you aren’t even kind of in the mood for. There are much bigger things to worry about tonight. Much more pressing issues than Red Shirt and his band of sexually insecure misfits.

You reach the edge of the alley, almost clear of the group, when a hand slams down on your shoulder squeezing tightly enough to leave a bruise. “I know you hear me talking to you! Do you know what we do to girls like you around here?” Red Shirt hisses, venom dripping from his words. Grasping the handles of the switchblades in your pockets, you whip around, unfolding them at the speed of light and burying them in his shoulders. The flesh squishes like raw meat on a butcher's slab. You love to hear it.

Red Shirt drops to his knees, deep burgundy blood soaking through his shirt and dripping down his shoulders. The scream of anguish he lets out is enough to split the earth in two. The other four stumble back, the shock of their leader groveling in pain for likely the first time ever enough to make them want to shit themselves. You stare down at him, your eyes cold and void of any sympathy, “You know what I do to guys like you?” Twisting the blades, one of them nicks bone, making him whine like a wounded animal.

“Do you want me to show you?” you ask, smiling warmly, “Or are you gonna gather your friends and get the fuck away from me before I make sure you never use these arms again?” There’s an attempt at speaking. A croak, drowned out by the waterfall of tears rushing down his cheeks. “What’s that? I can’t quite hear you.”

“Leave. We. Leave” he manages.

It’s not the groveling that you’re used to but it’ll have to do for now. The blades ease out of his shoulders smooth as butter. His body hits the concrete hard enough that he nearly splashes water---at least you hope it’s just water---on your high-heeled boots. You squat down, casually cleaning your blades on his shirt. “If it makes you feel any better” you sigh, “Red is your color.”

“Do I have to talk slower so that you understand me? I Don’t. Owe. You. Shit.”

The words of the cocky American cooking up dope in the basement of this hole in the wall laundromat echo in Yeonjun’s mind. They call him San Jose for the time he spent in California locked away in a supermax prison. You learn a lot when you’re shoved into a cage in a strange new place with people you don’t know. And, for Yeonjun, English was one of those things. This American didn’t need to speak slower. San Jose understood him the first time.

The insult was just overkill which is precisely why he feels no guilt popping coins into the max load dryer the American’s currently folded into. The window's smeared with blood from the bones that had to be broken to wedge him in there to begin with. Messy but necessary. Beneath the stained floors, marbled with dirt, Yeonjun’s associates facilitate more bloodshed among the guards too loyal or too stupid to run before things got this bad.

“You don’t have to do this!” the American begs, suddenly confident in the lack of a language barrier, “Please! I’ll get you your money! I promise!” Yeonjun taps at the glass, watching the American squirm like a panicked fish swimming in poisoned water. “So sorry” Yeonjun apologizes, “I don’t speak English.” The press of a button sets off the buzzing noise that signals the start of a cycle.

Tiny green lights glow beside the options Yeonjun patiently selected. Cycle: Heavy. Heat: High. Door: Locked.

There’d been a point where this was all about the money. But now? If he handed it over Yeonjun would throw it into the dryer and let it burn right along with him. Hypnotized by the clanking of the American’s body as the drum makes its labored turns, Yeonjun almost doesn’t hear the front door creak open. You stop dead in your tracks when you’re greeted by the barrel of a 45 ACP pistol. I said he almost didn’t hear the door. Just almost.

You throw your hands up, more as a peace offering than a sign of surrender. “You aren’t gonna shoot me are you, Yeon---” “You don’t get to call me that anymore, X” he snaps, raking his fingers through his platinum blonde hair, “You’ve got 10 seconds to turn around before I pull this trigger.” “Yeon---” He turns to you, his left eye twitching, and cocks the pistol. “San Jose” you say in an alluring tone, taking baby steps toward him, “I just wanna talk. Five minutes. That’s it. Can you give me that?”

Yeonjun can hardly look at you but he can’t bring himself to turn away. Why are the flowers most likely to kill you always the prettiest to look at? He groans, his rage softened by the sight of your face after almost a year apart, “Five minutes.”

Bent over the wooden desk in the manager’s office, you dig your heels into the floor, desperate to keep your trembling legs from giving out. You could say that you’d forgotten what it was like to have Yeonjun’s tongue performing acrobatics inside of your tight pussy but that would be a lie. There’s simply no way to forget how talented this man is with his tongue. Your memory though, pales in comparison to the real thing, and experiencing it for the first time in a long time has juices dripping down your lush thighs.

From his position behind you, the second time you’ve had a man on his knees tonight, Yeonjun’s fingers press into the softness of your ass. It looks glorious beneath the teal overhead lighting. Flawless in every way. Just like everything else about you. The taste of you is addictive. Sweet enough to rot his teeth. He squeezes your ass harder, raising you up to create the perfect angle for him to swipe his tongue between the slickness of your folds. His tongue brushes over your clit, making you moan in ways he can’t help but grin at.

“Why me?” he asks between sloppy, eager laps at your slit, “What does your boss want me for?” Nails tapping on the desk, nearly scratching the cheap plywood, you arch your back at the tugging in your lower belly. “She has plans. Something big and I don’t---aah---question her. I just---fuck.” Your body collapses, a spark traveling through your veins like liquid fire. “I just know she wants you back with us.” Yeonjun rises to his feet, pushing your dress up further to reveal the small of your back. He kisses it with the gentle lips of a man born to be a lover and bred to be a killer.

“But do you want me back?” he asks in a rare moment of vulnerability. You groan, rolling over onto your back, hands covering your face. Spending time with him, talking to him, loving him, the entire experience of being with him had been one of the only things that made waking up in the morning worth it in a life like this. None of it was ever just about the sex, as amazing as it is. It was always about him. Do you want him back? Of course, you do.

The head of his cock nudges at your slit, smearing your juices through the delicate petals of your pussy. Yeonjun runs his hands along your curves, indulging himself in the nostalgia of nights like this. “Do you?” Taking him by the collar of his shirt, you drag him on top of you, kissing him passionately as you lower yourself onto him until every inch is buried within you. “I do” you whisper, the sincerity in your eyes swearing to him that you aren’t lying. You wouldn’t. You can’t.

The feeling of being wanted by you again, knowing that you’ve wanted him all this time, is a high unlike anything else. Your legs wrap around his waist, keeping him flush against you as he dips in and out of you. The ridges of your walls when you clench around him. The blood pumping through those gorgeous veins that travel up his shaft. It’s almost too much. You kiss his forehead, stroking the back of his neck, unsure if that thumping is your heart or the body in the dryer just beyond the door. “I missed you so much” he moans into your chest, licking beads of sweat from between your cleavage.

“Fuck me harder then. Prove it.” You pose a challenge that he takes on without hesitation. Pinning your arms over your head, one hand keeping your wrists locked together, he thrusts into you with a force that carries a certain finesse civilian men painfully lack. He doesn’t miss a single sweet spot, making every tiny movement count. Every sensation pushes you closer to the edge of oblivion---and the desk. You don’t even have to speak for Yeonjun to know you’re about to cum. Your body tells him. It always has.

That thumping? It was your heart after all, and it’s at maximum volume in your ears as you come undone beneath him. The death grip that your walls have on him, your moisture coating him, leaking out to make a mess of his pants, has him coming right along with you. The warmth in your belly as he fills you up has you silently begging him not to stop, your brain still too lost in ecstasy to formulate more than a few incoherent whimpers. If he had it in him never would but you’re milking him so well, draining him of everything, that all he can do is stumble backwards before you take his soul too.

“Fuck” he pants, his body propped up against the wall behind him, “You’re the devil.” Pushing yourself up, you use what little balance you have to get your clothes back together. You wink at him, throwing your coat back on, “But you love me.” Locking eyes with him, you help him fix his pants, teasing the rim of his tip before tucking it away, “I’ll see you in Berlin then?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world” he answers, lips hovering dangerously close to yours. You kiss him once more and his arms come around you, desperate to keep you here forever.

A cutesy ringtone blares as your phone vibrates in your pocket. You know by the sound of it that it’s your boss. “Answer it” he insists, kissing you one last time before turning you loose. With the phone in your hand, anticipating an interrogation from your boss, you march out of the manager’s office, ignoring the half conscious man with salami for skin hanging out of the dryer. “You be a good boy now, San Jose!” you shout behind you.

Yeonjun follows you out of the office, shoving the body back into the dryer without taking his eyes off of you, “You can call me Yeonjun again!” You can only laugh to yourself, disappearing back out into the night. You like that name better anyway.

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x y/n #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt au #yeonjun angst #yeonjun smut #txt angst #txt smut #chubby reader #plus size reader #thick reader

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margowritesthings · 2 years

Text

Blood On His Hands

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x f!reader

summary: during your time of the month, Dutch offers a helping hand and some advice from good old Mr Miller

word count: 3308 words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, menstruating reader, period sex, fingering on period, mentions of blood, slight blood play, sexual content, vaginal sex, breeding kink, explicit language and blasphemy

a/n: uhhhhhhhhhhh I have no excuses for this. i just know nothing would ever get between dutch van der linde and pleasuring his lady, and then this happened. whoops. totally get that this one won't be for everyone, but its what i wanted to write so I did hehe

as always, big love to my love @cowboydisaster for beta-ing and reassuring me i wasn't wrecking my own idea every minute of the day

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie

did you enjoy this? consider buying me a coffee!

“Y’know, I think the Lord must hate his women, what with all he goddamn puts us through.” You grumble as you enter yours and Dutch’s bedroom, slamming the splintered door shut behind you to stalk right past Dutch, falling onto the creaky bed and shoving your face into your pillow.

“Something bothering you, dear?” Dutch raises a brow before looking over at you. He puts his finger on the line he was reading, to save the page when he closes the book to offer you his full attention.

Your neck strains when you lift your head to meet Dutch’s eye. His stare feels hot and intense, which isn’t exactly unusual for a look between you and him, but is definitely heightened by the hormones raging through you. Your stomach aches and cramps, your pussy practically mewling for a release you can’t even reach right now.

“Just that time of the month, love. Nothin’ to worry about.”

But Dutch’s finger slips out from between the pages, closing the book properly and discarding it on the table beside his chair. You’ve bundled up the blankets beneath you, pressing the ball of wool into your abdomen to let the pressure attempt (and fail) to ease the pain.

Your face is stuffed back into the pillow, so the first indication Dutch has joined you is the dip on the bed. He holds your frame, moving you to your side with such an ease and slotting himself behind you. His large hands cover your stomach, the heat from him comforting and actually soothing you a little. It’s wild to you that the man can somehow numb a pain that whiskey can’t, but that’s Dutch. He’s incredible.

The way you’re laying on the bed, your body the little spoon to his larger one, means that Dutch slots in right behind you. You’re sure he’s not even trying to turn you on, focused only on your comfort, but the incessant poking, ever hardening cock branding onto the side of your ass. You so wish you could turn around and let him have his way with you, but knowing the exact thing that has you so feral in the first place is the one thing stopping you from taking what you want. No, what you need.

Dutch presses a kiss to your temple from behind, his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your belly. It helps the pain, but not the winding feeling tightening your core. Your ass feels how rock hard Dutch is now, and it burns into your flesh until you can take it no more. You grind up against him and he growls deep into your ear. When his tongue slides up the side of your ear, you jolt, and Dutch takes the opportunity to tighten his grip on you and flip you over. He’s hovering above you now, hands roaming everywhere, tongue delving into your mouth as he undoes your shirt and pushes it off your shoulders.

"I once read that it's a scientifically proven fact that cumming for me relieves those sorts of... symptoms." Dutch whispers teasingly.

The war between mind and body rages in your core. Your body is desperate for him to continue, desperate to feel the trail of his fingers lower and lower until they’re buried deep inside you, but your mind seems tethered to taboos hammered into your subconscious by a conservative world. It’s your mind that forces your hand to grip Dutch’s wrist, though your fingers barely meet wrapped around him, stopping him just above your sore abdomen.

“Dutch, we… we can’t.”

It’s an awful feeling, forcing yourself to deny what you truly want, and you curse whatever force or, more probably, some old guy years ago with a quill and a fear of women is making you feel so uncomfortable.

You want nothing more than for Dutch to plunge himself into you and fuck you better, you want nothing less than to disappoint him. You’re surprised when instead of the furrowed brows and frowned lips you’re expecting, Dutch simply smirks.

“My dear… there’s blood on my hands from creatures far less beautiful than you.”

The shock is all you can focus on, so your grip on Dutch’s wrist slackens enough for him to break free and continue his journey downwards. It sends shivers over your entire body and you blink wide eyes up at him, speechless.

“What kind of man would I be…” he starts, expertly sliding the buttons of your pants out of their holes and pulling down the zip, agonisingly slowly.

“… if I could bathe in the blood of my enemies, shed in hatred and violence, but shied away from this, the life force of my love?”

You’re blushing furiously, you’re sure of it, but something in his poetic words, the comfort in his tone, chips away at your shame. It cracks, breaking away to reveal a more vulnerable version of yourself, reserved only for Dutch. This layer of you fears not the judgement or the embarrassment, it cares only for the wants and desires of yourself and Dutch.

And right now, you desire Dutch.

He frees you yet again.

He’s always freeing you. When you met, he freed you from those beliefs ingrained into you by your parents about what society should be, instead showing you how the world is. He freed you from the boundaries you built around yourself, loving you and nurturing you until you found who you really are. He liberated you, quite literally, taking you from your little corner of the world on that ranch and riding you both into the sunset, stopping off at the most incredible places along the way. And now, freeing you from whatever was holding you back from this act with one loving, fervid, searing kiss, breaking away only to add, “But only if you’re comfortable, my love.”

It seals the deal, the absolute devotion in his eyes when he seeks consent and you nod, biting down on your bottom lip coyly. Words are simply too much.

“Oh, good girl…” he seems impressed, glad that you’ve let go just enough for him to experience this with him. Dutch gets back to the task at hand, slipping one of the darker blankets underneath you and hooking his fingers into your jeans and underwear to peel them down your legs.

You try not to think about what he must see down there, and it takes everything in you not to squirm, not to retreat back into thoughts planted in you by others and instead to simply be here with Dutch. The struggle manifests itself in a furious blush on your cheeks and an inability to look anywhere but up at the ceiling of the tent. You miss the stars. You wish you could count them.

Ever the expert on you, Dutch notices your inhibitions winning the battle. He’s hovering just above your heat and he places the softest of kisses just below your belly button. His voice is low when he begins to speak to you, “You know…”

You glance down to Dutch, curiosity overtaking whatever was stopping you meeting his eye, “I was reading earlier and Mr. Miller has some quite interesting views on freedom.” The giggle is inevitable, tumbling from your lips like a waterfall and crashing over Dutch. He’s always talking about Evelyn goddamn Miller, even now. God, you love him.

“Go on…” you reach down to him, tangling your fingers into a stray lock of hair and pushing it behind his ear. You cup his cheek, enjoying watching the flickering candle beside the two of you glistening in his otherwise inky orbs. Your hand looks so tiny beside his chiselled features and you can feel his jaw flutter against your palm. The world melts around you.

“So the question the seeker of allegorical poetry should ask himself-”

Dutch begins to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, revealing those stunning, strong forearms, “or indeed, herself…” he adds, glancing to you before kissing your belly once more.

“Is this:”

As he crawls back up the length of your body, you can feel hot breath tickling your jawline. Your lips part, desperate for his taste but he denies you for just a second longer.

“Is it in the seeking that we find or the finding that we seek?”

Finally your lips meet, even if it’s far too briefly, Dutch’s hand trailing back down your front as his tongue dances with yours. You’re trying so hard to concentrate on his words that the nerves seem to have dissipated into the air.

“While this may seem like a pathway towards insanity…”

On insanity, he pinches one of your nipples between his fingertips softly, but just hard enough for the sensation to travel down your centre, the feeling everywhere, and a moan escapes your lips.

“…it’s an important distinction, and also a clear one.”

The trickle of his fingers running down your stomach sends ripples of sensation over the rest of your skin. You are no longer thinking about your reservations, only Dutch and his words and the passion in the way he speaks them.

“She who finds things is wise…”

You lose his touch, but somehow know his fingers are lined up at your entrance. You’re quivering with anticipation.

“…but she who continues to seek…”

You hang on his every word.

“…is evermore free.”

Two fingers plunge into you, curling up deep and hitting your sweet spot with the confidence of a man who knows every inch of you like the back of his hand. It’s different. It’s incredible. Even with just two of Dutch’s fingers, you feel full.

He gives you a second to adjust, before sliding his fingers almost all the way out, only to push them back in until his rings are practically steaming against your heated flesh. With this movement, his thumb lands on your clit and begins to move slow, gentle circles in time with his thrusts.

You see stars. You don’t have the capacity to count them.

“O-Oh my god- Dutch!”

“I know, my dear, I know… doesn’t it feel good? To seek?” He whispers right into your ear, so close his moustache tickles your lobe. All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip so hard it will surely swell in the morning. You feel a million times more sensitive right now, every bit of pressure or movement on your nub hurtling you closer and closer to what surely must be oblivion.

“I’m so proud of you, exploring this with me, letting me show you what we can find together.” The praise washes over you, working in perfect tandem with Dutch’s expert hands to wind your coil tighter and tighter until you’re all but a babbling mess, wantonly pressing your hips up to meet Dutch’s hand with a harsher force.

Somehow, you manage to finally flutter your eyes open, finding Dutch smirking as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“That’s it… good girl. Let go, princess, I’ve got you…”

Of course he does. Dutch would die for you. Dutch would kill for you. He’d do this for you, and you wonder how you could have ever hesitated.

The wonder is brief, cut short when Dutch van der Linde steals every coherent thought from you the second he slips that third finger in knuckle deep. You scream out his name, arching your back, the woollen blanket beneath you scratching at your shoulders.Dutch continues to orchestrate your euphoria, pumping deep in and out of you and circling your clit just how he knows you love it. It’s so intense and there’s so many stars you’re not quite sure you could count them if you had all the time in the world.

You come down slowly, guided by Dutch’s voice. Your legs tremble and your cheeks feel wet, though you’re not sure when the tears fell, most likely glistening in the light of those stars you saw just seconds ago. They’re replaced instead by Dutch, who is running gentle fingers of the hand not currently sliding out of you through your hair.

“Oh, my good girl. My beautiful, good girl, doing so well for me…” He knows you, so knows when you make it back to this realm. It’s in the way you smile at him, the way the spark returns to your eye. He smiles right back, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You’re too quick for him, though only because he’s certainly not expecting much energy from you after that orgasm, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss you properly. Passionately.

Your tongue demands entrance and Dutch is happy to oblige. You hear that low growl deep in his chest and the vibrations seem to reverberate through you, spurring you on like a siren’s call. The ache in your abdomen is long forgotten, inhibitions beaten to a pulp and left on the side of the road to die. It doesn’t even phase you when Dutch pulls back to wipe down his crimson right hand on his shirt and you spot the blood splattered on his arm. It’s actually… pretty goddamn hot. He’s right, if the image of him coated in the blood of his victims is enough to set you off, what could be so wrong with this? An act of pure devotion, love and sex in their rawest, most vulnerable forms.

His shirt is left with a scarlet handprint Dutch will surely later claim belongs to an O’Driscoll, but that doesn’t matter for long as he pulls it off his shoulders and discards it to the ground. He unbuttons his pants, slipping them off before returning to you, his body covering and warming yours before you can even realise you’re shivering.

“You astound me every single day, my dear…” He speaks so quietly, seemingly afraid of bursting the bubble formed around the two of you, cutting you off from everything and anything but each other.

“Gotta keep seeking…” You quip, unable to keep the cheeky smile from your lips when you watch Dutch realise you’re the one quoting Evelyn Miller now. He kisses the corner of your lip, where the smile first started to tug. It’s a playful kiss, at first, but with each second that passes the laughter dies, he holds you tighter and the passion bubbles to the point you feel you might shatter if you don’t have him soon.

“Dutch…” You gasp breathlessly, the neediness in your tone working with the gyrating of your hips to let Dutch know just what you want, as if he’d ever need the help figuring it out. When you feel the head of his thick cock lining up at your entrance, you think of how much tighter it felt with Dutch’s fingers. About half a second before the anxiety can manifest itself, Dutch pushes into you. It’s euphoric, like no fullness you’ve ever felt before. There’s definitely a stretch deep inside, but the ever so slight pain only seems to burn the pleasure brighter. The noise that escapes your lips is obscene, and Dutch dips down to catch it with a deep kiss. Part of him definitely does it so that that noise can be reserved for only him, but the other half of the kiss holds a message: I’m here. He’s right here with you in this, holding you in a way that shields you from everything. In this moment, at your most unguarded, you know you can trust Dutch van der Linde with your life. With everything.

And you suddenly find what you seek.

When Dutch’s hips pull back, you feel every ridge, every vein, so beautifully massaging you that you experience it head to toe. He pushes back in, and you feel every muscle that twitches in his hard back under your fingers.

“Some beings, my dear, will never truly appreciate what your body is doing right now…” He growls, picking up a rhythm and hitting that sweet spot he seems to have a map to every damn time. It sends you dizzy and you can feel your heartbeat throbbing deep in your cunt, “But I do. It’s magnificent. You’re magnificent, and one day this cycle you endure will allow me to fuck my babies into you…” His rhythm picks up and you feel yourself climbing, serenaded by his words. You’ve never talked about babies before, but the way Dutch’s breath tickles your ear, the way his words harden your nipples and steal the breath from you, you suddenly know you want that more than anything.

Yet another discovery.

“Oh, God, Dutch, I-I’m gonna-”

“That’s right, princess… Cum for me. You wanna cum with me, baby? Let go for me.”

And how could you not?

Dutch seems to sense the impending scream, pressing his thumb into your mouth to let you bite down on it. You do. Hard.

It’s as though every piece of you explodes, crashing into all the pieces of Dutch and bonding to them forever. The rushing blood in your ears is the only other thing you can hear but Dutch’s visceral groans as he too loses control, his once steady rhythm growing erratic, his thrusts getting harsher and harsher. You never knew an ache could feel so good until right this moment.

And just when you feel like you’re in orbit, like you couldn’t possibly reach a higher ecstasy, Dutch presses the thumb not clamped between your teeth onto your clit and starts to rub.

And you get it. You really, truly understand it. Mr Miller is right, he’s so damn right.

This, the comfort you find in being in Dutch’s arms that unlocks the ability to just keep seeking more from life, this is true freedom. He holds you and guides you from one life changing find to another, allowing you to shape what you want from the world and doing everything he can to bring it to you. The two of you find magical things, like the carnal lusts you experience near nightly, but with his encouragement and love, you continue to seek. You seek times like these, where you’ve never been so vulnerable with another and yet have never felt pleasure and connection so all-consuming.

You and Dutch, when you’re together…

You’re evermore free.

Free to seek and find, and then keep seeking until you reach this: true bliss.

You cum to the sweet melody of Dutch’s moans and praises, wave after wave radiating over you. Your toes curl; your nails dig into the skin on Dutch’s back, surely ripping it and shedding more blood between you. You can feel your pussy clenching around Dutch’s entire shaft, which twitches madly as it pumps you full of his hot spend.

It feels as if it lasts forever, like when you blink your eyes open the world will have ended, leaving you and Dutch to fuck into eternity and repopulate the Earth. You’d do it. Gladly.

Alas, when you do open your eyes, you’re met with the world, just as it was when you seemingly left it. Your world: Dutch. His arms are tense around you, as to not let his entire weight crush you and when he slips out of you, he lowers himself to your side. You see the blood on his right hand, but it doesn’t look too unlike the blood on your own hands. You’re breathless, feeling the laboured rise and fall of Dutch’s chest when you rest your head on it, but you just about manage to whisper to him, “Sorry for scratching you…” with the cheekiest smile on your swollen lips.

Dutch raises a brow, entangling his cleaner hand with one of your own and raising them both to the candlelight to inspect the damage.

“Y’know… I quite like the look of my blood on your hands, my dear.”

You grin, thinking of the long forgotten cramping and bad mood you once knew.

“Likewise, Mr. van der Linde.”

#Dutch Van Der Linde #Dutch Van Der Linde smut #Dutch Van Der Linde x reader #Dutch Van Der Linde x you #dutch van der linde fanfiction #rdr #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde imagine #rdr imagine #rdr fanfic #Dutch rdr2

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sillyvampireboi · 2 months

Text

Why are you tormenting my kitchen??

~AO3~

Summary: Armand is fascinated by blenders. Who knew that there were many different types with different functions? Do they only blend liquid or flesh too? He must experiment.. to Daniel’s demise.

Contents: pov Armand, romantic, fluff, attempt at humour, armandaniel, Armand being Armand, blood, gore, not beta read, description of cutting someone up ^^’

a/n: I feel like Armand is like a little child, regarding discovering new technologies and finding joy in trying them out. | I wrote it totally self-indulgently. I have that urge in me to see Armand destroy Daniel’s (blender at first) kitchen 👁️v👁️

tagging: @okaytosave

~ English is my second language ~

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

“So Daniel, you grew up and lived in this era, which one is the best?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Well, I suppose you used these machines before.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I compared all brands in the world. “ — chuckled my fascinating boy. — “But buy that one. It’s the most expensive.”

We were standing in the Aisle of Blenders in Media Markt. Recently, I became spellbinded by this store. It showcasted the best and most popular technology on the market during those years. My love laughed at me many times, when waking at night and not finding me at our home, discovered me studying iPads in that store for hours to no end. How fastly changeable technology became! It felt like there were new updates to my iPad every month, new features were added which became more colourful, more easy to use and were more apps to choose from. Sims and Minecraft became my favorites to spend my time on. I created our own avatars, mine and Daniel’s, in Sims where we lived happily as a married couple. I even found a kitten, when I told Daniel about it, he simply asked me to make him a successful writer and ‘WooHoo’ him every night. He didn’t tell me what that meant. I need to check its meaning in the near future.

However, back to me and Daniel looking at blenders: When I got used to the innovations phones and tablets offered, I found my new interest stirred in kitchen items. I have to admit, I abandoned my interest in kitchen utensils. They remained more or less similar for hundreds upon hundreds of years, so I let my curiosity wander to other directions. Then sweet Daniel stepped into the timeless night of my life, introducing me to feelings I’ve been absent from, besides human contraptions I didn’t pay attention to. Such innovation was this engaging appliance called Blender.

As far as I understand, it can mix liquids and soft objects such as fruits and vegetables together. Mortals use these devices to create ‘smoothes’ and other drinks Daniel told me about. Sadly, they can’t break bones or other hard surfaces into tiny pieces. Believe me I tried, that was the reason me and Daniel were shopping for a new one.

“Are you still angry at me, love?” — I temporarily turned from the shelf to look at Daniel. He sighed deep, feeling frustration omitting from him rather than anger.

“No. But I’m getting a little vexed since you keep tormenting my kitchen.”

“I’m only experimenting my beloved.”

“Yeah, right” — The innocent voice I used had a nearly immediate effect on him. His eyes softened, and the aurora around him became a lovely pink coloured mess. — “Just buy more, so we don’t have to come here every night, hm?”

“Everything for you dear!”

“Sure, don’t have to be in my ass. Just choose 3 and let us go already.”

The night was hot and breathless, attacking our senses constantly with the noise of the beeping city. The streets were nearly as light as during the day in this new century, illuminated by hundreds of lamps, advertisements and closed shop windows.

As I was walking beside Daniel, carrying my “newly doomed Blenders” - as he tells me - in their boxes, I thought back on the previous night.

I was in the kitchen, while my beloved was still in our bedchamber. The sun just started leisurely sinking lower and lower on the darkening sky, painting it with pink and purple and then blue at last. While the shadows began climbing along the lengthy sides of buildings, I set up the kitchen.

My love already had a Blender in his home, which I borrowed for my investigation. I prepared a victim for the night: a young, muscular boy. Barely scraping the threshold of twenty, full of life and strength, his young face shining with his youthful years I’ll be draining out of him.

“Rest.”

My voice covered him gently from his curly head, till his long legs. He truly was a beautiful boy, one I’ve seen centuries ago in the palace of my Master. His muscles and mind relaxed, regardless of his integral struggle for life, while I opened up his wrist and let his warm blood fill several cups, I organised in the kitchen. I let his blood flow until his heart began to slow, losing his hopeless battle against his fate, until it fully stopped.

First, I poured one cup of his blood into the Blender, and turned on the machine. It began to buzz and whirl. It moved the blood around in circles, creating light bubbles in contrast to the shadowless.

It passed the first test. After emptying its container I added another cup of blood into it, then turned back to the body of the boy. With a knife in my hand, I let my gaze travel over his lifeless shell. His pink flesh lost colour and turned to gray, and his eyes which were filled with fearful tears a few minutes ago, now stared blankly at the ceiling. I let him free of his thin shirt, and opened up his delicate skin.

I put slim pieces of his muscles in the blood at first, then steadily increased the amount. The Blender succeeded these challenges, cutting the meat into smaller and smaller parts, until it became a bloody meat ‘smoothie’. I poured it into a new cup and started again.

At this time, I used his heart, lungs and a part of his brain in one session, mixing it with more blood. The machine seemingly struggled quite a bit, but mixed them nonetheless. It wasn’t as perfect as the previous one, but still liquid-y.

I continued experimenting with his other organs, the Blender struggling more and more, until it reached its breaking point.

It was bones that broke this interesting innovation.

I began with his blood again, and continued with adding tiny parts from his limb bones - which I smashed with my hands -, until I carried on with bigger bones: fingers, toes, and collar bones. However, as I added a forearm, it couldn’t pierce through the stone-hard surface of the white parts and its scales stopped while the motor still ran. I watched with wild wonder, while the buzzing got pregnant with panic, until it stopped with a sudden bang. The remains of the meat, blood and bones flew up in the air, and blanketed me and the kitchen furniture with a nasty, sloppy sound.

Oh no - I thought - I broke Daniel’s Blender, there is still time to buy him a new one. He isn’t using it anymore, so he won’t notice and then I clean—

“What the fuck has happened here?” — My beloved was standing at the door of our bedroom, arms crossed in front of his chest, sleep still heavy in his eyes. His gaze naturally traveled to me first, next on the body of the cut up form of my victim, until at last, traveled over the rain of dark red, thick wetness on the walls and ceiling.

“Daniel, I can expl—“

“What is this? Why are you tormenting my kitchen?!”

“I merely wanted to experiment dear. You showed me a lot about new technologies and the one that interested me the most was this apparatus called Blender! It moves and has knife-like edges inside and mixes substances! My beloved, you must understand I had to try! And what fascinating discoveries I made.”

Daniel stood there completely spellbounded, staring at me in the grotesque scene I created. For a long time he said nothing, until I saw the slight smile in the light of his eyes, which meant he wasn’t angry at all even though he tried to appear to be. A deep sigh which he didn’t need anymore, escaped his lungs while he roamed his gaze over me and our kitchen again.

“Alright, this is what we are going to do. First you clean this whole mess and then YOU buy a new blender. And I’m going to ask for a fucking expensive one, you can be sure of that.”

I couldn’t help, but giggle at his mocked fury, that imitation of frustration he forced on his lovely face.

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

The moment we arrived home, I organised our new Blenders in the cabinets, taking out plates and glasses, just to put them back and find a new place for them. Daniel was enjoying my structuring skills with an open delight, from the dining table.

After I was done, I walked to him, sly as a cat, sitting on his lap and putting my arms around his neck.

“What?”

“Will you show me how to order from Amazon?”

“Why? “ — he eyed me with suspicion.

“I want to order a robotic eater!”

“Robotic eater? You mean a robot vacuum?”

“Yes! Please Daniel, I have to see if it really eats everything and moves around furniture.”

“God. What did I sign up for?”

My soft laugh disguised us from the outside world, leaving us in a light pink bubble.

#the vampire armand #the vampire armand fic #my writings #iwtv #interview with the vampire fic #interview with the vampire #iwtv fandom #iwtv fic #iwtv fanfiction #armandaniel #armand iwtv #armanddaniel #armand x daniel #vampire armand #daniel x armand #daniel molloy

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justenjoythegossip · 8 months

Text

Would it be more “acceptable” if Chris & Abba were exclusively PR?

Chris’ performative political activism

Whether Chris and Abba are a real legitimate couple with a PR spin or exclusively PR, Chris’ political activism has proved to be totally performative. It’s one thing to fight for equality and injustice when it is beneficial to your image, it’s another to do it when voicing that opinion can be costly. Look at Melissa Barrera who expressed her opinion, stuck to her guts and lost the role she is most famous for. Look at Brendan Fraser who refused to stay silent and paid such a heavy price after speaking out on his being sexually assaulted. It took him years to come back and finally take home a much deserved Oscar for his acclaimed performance in the Whale.

Chris’ persona and brand were utterly destroyed when he was linked to that fat-shaming racist antisemitic Nazi sympathizing girl. The most aggravating part of this PR shitshow is that by accepting to be officially in a “RS” and then be “married” to her, he has helped put her in the spotlight, which was his first mistake. Look at Dylan O’Brien who is in a real relationship with someone extremely problematic as well. They are rather discreet. If Chris and Abba had behaved like a real private couple, if Abba would have stayed in the shadow, then the backlash would have been kept to a minimum. Also by agreeing to this, Chris helped clean her image. Knowing what she has shown to the world publicly, it’s all the more egregious to see the media portraying her as this smart talented great humanitarian who speaks 5 languages and who has perfect eyebrows. The gaslighting is unbearable.

Of course, Chris has famously said that the industry makes you do things that you don’t want to do. But it is an excuse. It’s a rationalization. The truth is that he had a choice. For sure the two options he was offered probably sucked but he still had a choice. Nobody forced this on him. And he knew the optics were terrible. That’s why he didn’t come back to Twitter, that’s why he took so much distance from his political project ASP. It would have been too hypocritical to be vocal and to be lecturing people when he, himself, was connected to someone that represents what he is allegedly fighting against.

When he did that infamous asp chat about racism and antisemitism, it wasn’t random. It was very likely a test to monitor the reaction of his fans. This is probably why they left all those negative comments. They wanted to know if Chris had been forgiven...

If their “RS/marriage” was exclusively PR, would that absolve him somehow?

Certain mods have expressed the opinion that if Chris and Abba were a real legitimate couple, it would be much worse and then they couldn’t support Chris anymore. I don’t mean to judge or criticize anyone’s opinion by the way, especially since I think some of those mods are good, well-intentioned people and I love reading their take on things but I am just trying to ask questions here.

What is implied here is that it’s ok and preferable to compromise yourself if it’s meant for your career. And it’s true that we are taught from the earliest age that we have to succeed. Whatever the cost may be. We must have friends, have a career, have money, have a family, have a house… So much emphasis on having and so little on being. This is the darker side of the American dream, it puts way too much importance on money and success. And if you can’t achieve those goals then you are considered to be worthless. Nihilism starts right there. If you are nothing, it’s a lot easier to give up on your morals and ethics…

To get back to Chris. Yes he’s had an amazing career, the kind of career most actors would kill for. But it’s easy to relate to being terrified to lose what you have and what you have always wanted. I guess the desperation must be unbearable if you have defined yourself by your professional success and you see that things start slipping away from you. And by his looks and demeanor, people can tell he has struggled with it. Although it might be an act of course. But I choose to believe that it’s genuine and that he really feels guilty about it.

But wouldn’t love make this situation more “acceptable”?

If Chris and Abba were exclusively PR, then it would signify that Chris compromised himself and his beliefs for his career, for roles, for money and for power.

But wouldn’t it be actually “preferable” and “more acceptable” to compromise yourself out of love?

Love can be so powerful and nonsensical that certain people have lost their ways because of it. People have betrayed their partners or spouses, some have abandoned their own children because of it. Heck, people have even killed out of passion. And we sometimes free those people in a court of law when a jury decides that the criminal was so blinded by love and passion that they were unable to distinguish right from wrong. We call it temporary insanity!

If Chris had genuinely fallen in love with Abba (I don’t believe it by the way) to the point of being blind to her problematic stuff, would that be really worse or wouldn’t that serve as more mitigating circumstances? I am merely asking a question: compromising yourself for money and roles is it better than compromising yourself out of love? Did we actually become too cynical? Too materialistic?

Chris and his treatment of Abba and how it is reflective of our society…

Regardless of what we might think of Abba (and for sure we don’t have a good opinion of her), Chris has treated her very poorly. And this doesn’t reflect well on him.

Indeed he has done the absolute bare minimum to sell this, has never even said her name once, he has acted all ashamed most times she was nearby, has thrown shade (see the GQ interview where he implied she was judgmental), he has kept repeating how much he likes to be alone and how his dog is his true soulmate. He even said while allegedly being with her that he was looking for a partner to spend the rest of his life with. Ouch!

Of course, people who know about her problematic stuff will have trouble having any kind of empathy for her but that doesn’t make it ok.

Chris has agreed to this PR shitshow so tacitly he has accepted that Abba is good enough for these PR games and he has accepted to use her. So he should treat her with a minimum of respect. Otherwise he shouldn’t have gone through with it in the first place.

And it’s very symptomatic of our society these days. With the propaganda pushed by the mass media, we are taught that it’s ok to hate on people as long as they are horrible human beings. And similarly we have seen so many mods troll and comment on Abba‘s appearance as if it was even relevant. Just because someone is horrible, it doesn’t give you a license to behave the same way. Otherwise you become the very same thing you are criticizing.

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

And All the Pieces Fall Right Into Place

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 2

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

3.7k words

Warnings: Language, adults drinking adult things, a smidge of slut-shaming, sexual references, immature adults, Roy being Roy

Holi Dani! I’m back in town. Let’s get together tonight! I miss you!

Under April’s watchful eye, I typed my text to Dani Rojas and hit send. I knew full well that the Greyhounds had a game; Keeley Jones had sent me their schedule, after all. Step one of the most insane idea in the world was officially in motion.

“Remember, you can’t seem too desperate,” April reminded me as we lounged in my living room. “We don’t want it to be obvious that you’re fishing for an invite. Just be really subtle, like ‘Oh you have a match? Wow I’ve never been to one.’ You know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know, I know.”

Bzz!

Dani’s quick response would have been surprising if it was anyone else; but Dani Rojas was the friendliest, most accommodating person I knew. Since we first met at a party for some tequila brand back in L.A., Dani and I immediately clicked. Our paths crossed frequently enough in London, and I considered him one of my favorite people in England. We bonded over our shared desire to find good pan dulce in London and how much we missed our big, crazy families when we were away. It wouldn’t be too hard to finagle an invitation to his game, right?

Aww chula, I wish! I’ve got a fútbol match tonight.

Just as I was crafting a text that would score me a ticket to Nelson Road, another message came in.

You should come!

“Well, shit,” I laughed, showing April my screen. “That was almost too easy.”

My assistant- sidekick and soulmate, I preferred to call her- chuckled and started typing on her own phone. “I’ll let Keeley and Lanie know that our mission is complete. And I’ll take care of getting your ticket. All you have to worry about now is looking hot and having a good meet-cute.” She paused, pursing her lips. “You and Kent… you two can flirt with each other, right?”

“The heck’s that supposed to mean?” I snorted as I texted Dani back, letting him know that I would love to go to his game.

She shrugged. “You two just didn’t seem to like each other very much.” Her matter-of-fact tone held no emotion. “You’re going to have to pull some Daniel Day-Lewis level acting for this to work.” April grinned at me. “I mean, your goal is to get an EGOT, right? Maybe your Oscar will be for acting.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as Dani texted me back, all excitement. “Well, just call me Meryl, because that’s how good my acting will have to be to get people to think I’m into someone like Roy Kent.”

April’s face softened. “You’ve gotta admit,” she said slowly, “he’s pretty cute.”

“Cute?” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, sure, I could see how he could be considered handsome by some people. I could totally see him with models and shit. But if you’re worried about me falling for the guy, don’t stress.” I slouched further into my couch. “No way in hell am I falling for Roy freaking Kent.”

Keeley grinned and showed her phone to Roy. “She got Dani to invite her!” she hissed to the manager as they ate lunch together in his office. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

“Yeah,” Roy muttered flatly as he poked at his food. “Great.”

What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He hated this kind of shit, the paparazzi and attention. And he hated her party-girl lifestyle, always out at clubs. And what the fuck were they supposed to talk about on the dates Keeley would surely make them go on? He liked football, hanging out with Phoebe, reading… What did she like? Flirting with scrawny rockstars? Stealing her best friend’s boyfriend (according to the tabloid he’d noticed at the store that morning)? Her Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse, or wherever it was she lived when she was in Los Angeles? And he was going to have to endure months of this. Fucking hell.

But it was for Keeley, he reminded himself as he watched the blonde munch happily on her salad. She’d asked him to do something, something she knew he’d hate, and he said ‘yes’ without complaint. That had to mean something, right? Surely that would earn him a few points with her, maybe even enough to forget about the whole ‘pick one’ shit he and Jamie had pulled. She’d definitely see how above and beyond Roy was willing to go for her and remember why she had loved him, wouldn’t she?

Besides, seeing him with an admittedly gorgeous popstar on his arm might even make Keeley a smidge jealous.

“It’s gonna work.” Keeley’s reassuring voice penetrated his thoughts. “I know it is. You wouldn’t believe who’s gotten away with this scheme. You know that actor from-”

I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

Roy stood, frowning in the direction of the suddenly bolstering changing room. “What the fuck is that?”

Keeley grinned as she hopped up and followed his gaze to the sight of Jamie and Colin and a few other guys shaking their hips and singing along. “Your new girlfriend,” she whispered with a wink. “Come on, Roy, you know this one. It was only her big hit last summer.”

“Hmmph.” Yeah, he recognized the catchy tune that still seemed to always be on the radio all these months later; Phoebe’d made him play it about twenty times in the car just that week. But why the fuck was his team screeching it while they got ready for their afternoon training?

Jamie’s smile widened at the sight of Roy and Keeley. “Oi! Did ya hear Dani’s news?”

“What’s up?” Keeley asked, as if she didn’t know exactly what Jamie was about to say.

Sure enough, Jamie pointed in the direction of Colin’s little speaker, where the music was blasting from. “She’s comin’! To our game tonight!” He looked just about ready to do a cartwheel. “Apparently, she and Dani are buddies, and he invited her to watch us! Can you believe it?”

“You’re kidding!” Keeley gasped convincingly, smacking Jamie on the arm. “How the fuck did he never tell us they’re friends?” She glanced at Roy before turning back to Jamie. “D’you reckon he’ll get her to go out with you boys tonight? Or is she too famous for our little Greyhounds?”

Richard appeared over Jamie’s shoulder. “I hope so,” he sighed. “She recently broke up with her boyfriend.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She’ll be looking for a rebound, no?”

Roy rolled his eyes. Shit, was this going to be an even bigger distraction than he thought, he realized. For the millionth time since he stood in Keeley’s office and signed the NDA, Roy was regretting this decision. But when he saw the excitement shining in Keeley’s eyes as she watched the Greyhounds dance around, he couldn’t help the soft sigh he let out.

Fuck, he hoped it was worth it.

I took one last look in the mirror. Little jean skirt, black leather jacket, boots. April had assured me that the outfit was perfect: casual enough for a game, stylish enough for a night out with the team, hot enough to catch the attention of Roy Kent. Or at least, look like I’d caught the attention of Roy Kent.

The car ride to Nelson Road was quicker than I’d expected, and the walk to my seat was a blur of phones taking photos and my name gasped out of people’s mouths. I wondered if, with all the time I’d be spending at Nelson Road in the coming weeks, the reaction would die down. Or if, like Keeley Jones had implied towards the end of our first meeting, my presence would lead to a spike in attendance.

She seemed to be hoping for the latter, because she made sure my seat was very visible: right by the pitch, close to the Greyhounds’ dugout. Even if I wasn’t the biggest soccer fan, I had to admit it was exciting being so close to the field; I quickly snapped a few pictures to send to my family, who would appreciate the view much more than I ever could.

When the team came out, I joined in the enthusiastic cheers and screams, shouting Dani’s name loudly. His face lit up when he spotted me, and I saw him nudging his teammates and pointing in my direction. Keeley had warned me about their reactions; indeed, they were grabbing each other and making faces similar to the ones my nephew made when he saw Mickey Mouse on his first trip to Disneyland.

“Whistle!”

The two syllables slammed against my ears. There he was, no longer in the black leather jacket I’d met him in, but instead wearing a dark blue Greyhounds jacket. One of the players- Jamie Tartt, I remembered- started animatedly talking to a very bored-looking Roy Kent. With one of those eyerolls that I knew I’d have to get used to seeing, he turned in my direction.

Despite my initial instinct to roll my own eyes, I instead forced myself to hold his gaze for a moment. A horrified thought suddenly struck me: Could Roy Kent pull this off?

Then his mouth tugged upwards in the corner, forming an admittedly sexy little smirk. In return, I let my eyes wander down his figure, taking in the way his jacket hugged his muscular arms and the way his pants hugged thick thighs. Damn. If I hadn’t already met him, if I hadn’t already discovered what a cranky and irritable grouch Roy Kent was, I’d probably be attracted to his smug expression and athletic build. He wasn’t my usual type, but I couldn’t deny that he was, frankly, kind of gorgeous.

He gave me a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his team and shouting at them, his sharp yell reminding me that I was here for a reason. Remembering Keeley’s instructions, I pulled out my phone and snapped a couple of photos of the pitch, making sure to get Roy and the other Greyhounds in the frame. I quickly posted the picture to my social media and tagged Dani in it, as Keeley had suggested.

With the “official business” out of the way, I relaxed in my seat and prepared to at least appear to look like I was enjoying the game. Figuring that there were eyes and cameras pointed in my direction, I made myself steal several glances at Roy Kent; he must have been thinking the same thing, because more than once, he was already looking over at me.

Roy sighed when he looked over at the corner where most of the Richmond players were assembled, practically falling over themselves to get in a word with her.

It was a bit perplexing, honestly. These men were professional athletes. They regularly dated models and actresses. But this singer, this popstar, had them falling all over themselves trying to chat her up. Sure, Roy thought, her level of fame was pretty fucking impressive. She’d won a couple of Grammys, her songs were constantly on the radio, and he’d heard her latest tour was practically impossible to get tickets for. So maybe some of their fawning was justified.

He glanced at his phone, wishing he was at home in bed already. With a deep exhale, he made a beeline for Dani; the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave, he reasoned.

“Oi,” Roy grunted as he approached the striker. He nodded towards the swarm of players, doing his best to keep his trademark disinterested expression on his face. “You going to introduce me to your friend?”

Dani’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “You too, eh Coach?” He chuckled and clapped Roy on the shoulder. “Vámonos.”

Roy’s heart stuttered in his chest as he followed Dani to the corner of the club, where he saw, of all people, Jamie sitting close to the singer, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed at whatever he said and responded with a smile on her face. Her eyes flickered to Roy as he approached; was that… disappointment he saw?

If it was, it was only there for a fraction of a second. Just like on the pitch, her eyes trailed over his figure, a small smirk forming on her lips. If he didn’t know better, Roy would be intrigued by the boldness on her face, the uninhibited way she eyed him. In the back of his head, he couldn’t help feeling a bit smug when he saw the way Jamie’s brows furrowed as the striker looked back and forth between the two.

She kept her eyes on Roy as she stood up and stepped away from Jamie and the guys. She batted her lashes at Roy before turning to Dani, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

Shit, Roy thought. She’s good at this.

“Chula,” Dani said, smiling at his friend. “I want you to meet my coach, Roy.” He turned to Roy. “Coach, this is-”

Roy reached out and took her hand in his and shaking it slowly. “Only an idiot doesn’t know who you are,” he hummed, raising his eyebrows. “You caused quite a stir with my team, you know. You enjoy the match?”

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “I did. Sorry if I was a bit of a distraction.”

“I think you actually brought us luck.” Fucking hell, when was the last time Roy flirted like this? Was he doing it right? “You should come again sometime.”

Her smile widened as she tilted her head coyly. “Well, if that’s an invitation, maybe I will.”

Desperate to end this charade, Roy cleared his throat. “Have these fellas bought you a drink yet?” When she shook her head, he rolled his eyes playfully. “Fucking hell, guess I need to remind them what fucking manners look like.” With that, he placed his hand on her lower back and nodded towards the bar. “Come on, then.”

She winked at Dani and let Roy lead her to the bar, keeping that coy smile plastered on her face. Once they had ordered, she looked up at him, still smirking.

“Kent,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Watch your fucking hands.”

Sure enough, Roy realized that his hand was dangerously low, just above the curve of her ass. Shit.

Despite his embarrassment, Roy scoffed, although he did remove his hand. “You’re a natural at that flirting shit,” he all but sneered. “Then again, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice, with all your shaggy little rockstar pricks.”

Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second as the bartender slid over her drink. Still, she kept her expression neutral; to anyone watching them, she looked as though she was enjoying their conversation. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Her snarky tone contrasted with her sweet face. “Tell me more about the women who sell stories about your dick to the press and steal your watches?”

“Oi,” Roy growled as he picked his beer up off the bar. “That happened once, alright?”

“You mean it got into the papers once,” she grumbled, sipping her drink. She raised her eyebrows at him. “So, what’s the plan?”

Roy frowned. “Fuck d’you mean? We’re doing the fucking plan.”

She shook her head. “Like, are you going to ask me to dance? Are we taking off and going to a restaurant or some shit?” Roy avoided looking at the way her lips wrapped around her little straw as she sipped her drink. “Keeley said it’s up to us, just no going home together on the first night.” The little snort she gave would’ve been adorable coming from anyone else. “As if.”

“Well, I guess if we dance, we don’t have to fucking talk,” Roy muttered, doing his best to mirror her amiable expression; it was challenging, he realized, looking cheery while feeling irritated as hell. He downed the rest of his beer and practically slammed the empty bottle on the bar. “One song, alright? I don’t usually fucking dance.”

“Trust me,” she hummed, finishing the last of her drink. “For me, you’d make an exception.” Flashing what he assumed was her most winning smile, she took Roy’s hand and led him to the crowded dance floor.

On the dance floor, she pressed her body close to his, her movements teasing and natural. Everything about her- her hips, her smile, her eyes on his, the way her hands played with her hair flirtatiously- would have normally had Roy’s chest feeling tight with attraction.

She brought her lips to his ear, looking as though she was probably flirting with him. “I swear to God,” she hissed. “If you get a boner, I will fucking kill you.”

Yeah. Right.

Officially introduced? Check.

Flirted? Check.

Had a drink together? Check.

Danced? Check.

We’d gone through enough of the motions. There was no way I was going to spend more time with Kent than I had to; we’d be thrown together enough in the coming weeks once the “dating” began. Besides, Keeley had warned me that Roy didn’t like to stay out late anymore. He was probably even more ready to call it a night than I was.

Sure enough, after a couple of songs, he gave a small grunt and looked at his phone.

“Should get going,” he grumbled.

“Why?” I huffed, fluffing my hair. “Will you fall asleep right here on the dance floor soon?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a real ball of fucking sunshine?”

“That’s an improvement from nightmare.” I exhaled and tugged at his jacket. “C’mere.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“So I can say goodnight, you idiot. Someone’s bound to take a photo of this.” Not waiting for an answer, I pulled his face close to mine and planted a small, lingering kiss on his cheek. His face was warm, a little itchy from his beard, and now carried a little red mark from my lipstick. I smiled up at him and released his jacket. “Goodnight, Roy Kent,” I hummed.

He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Right. Goodnight, then.” He reached down and gave my hand a squeeze before turning and walking away, his movements stiff and almost robotic.

Fighting the urge to childishly wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, I returned to the corner where the Greyhounds were gathered. Dani’s face lit up when I slid into the booth next to him and stole a sip of his drink.

“Did you have fun dancing with Coach Kent, amor?” he asked, his voice dripping with teasing.

I smirked at my friend. “He was very nice,” I declared with a playful eyeroll.

“Roy doesn’t normally dance,” one of the players- Colin- informed me. “And he usually doesn’t stay out this late.” He waggled his eyebrows at me over his beer. “Wonder why he came out tonight.”

Putting on my best coy smile, I leaned forward. “What about when his girlfriend comes out with you all? Doesn’t he dance with her?”

Immediately, all the men at the table shook their heads. “Roy doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Isaac, their captain, clarified. “He actually hasn’t really dated anyone since….” He glanced around the table. “Well, since he broke up with his serious girlfriend, Keeley.”

“Keeley?” I echoed without thinking. “Keeley Jones?”

Dani’s smile widened. “Oh, how do you know Keeley?”

Shit.

“I don’t,” I lied. “But I’ve heard of her. We’ve got some mutual friends. She’s a model, right?”

Isaac nodded. “She’s moved into PR, actually. Runs her own firm, works with the club. She’s brilliant.”

“And once upon a time, she and Roy were our OTP,” Colin sighed dreamily. “But they’re good friends now. Them and Jamie and their weird little dynamic.”

“Jamie dated her too,” Dani explained. “Before her and Roy got together.”

I nodded, slowly piecing together the story. “Jamie dated her too?” I chuckled, wondering why I felt like I should have been told all this ahead of time. “Gosh, she has a type, doesn’t she? Dating two guys from the same team.” I put my hands up and quickly added, “Not that I have the right to judge. I dated bandmates once, did not turn out well for the band.”

The guys laughed good-naturedly. As I was about to feign interest and ask another question about Roy, Jamie Tartt approached, plopping down on my other side and setting down a drink in front of me, his arm behind me on the booth casually.

“Finally escaped from Grandad, eh?” he joked, eyes twinkling playfully.

Damn. Normally, his pretty-boy looks and admittedly annoying swagger would be exactly what I wanted, and we’d probably have a fun couple of weeks in each other’s beds. But I needed to stick to the plan; besides, wasn’t I done with guys like this?

Offering the athlete nothing but a polite smile, I turned back to Dani and took my friend’s hand. “It was fun watching you play today,” I hummed. “Think I could come again? Become a Greyhounds fan?”

“Yes!” Dani kissed my forehead. “Please, amor, come to more of our games.” He nudged me. “I’m sure Coach Kent would not mind one bit.”

Hoping my smile was shy rather than obviously fake, I giggled. “He did tell me I brought you all luck,” I said slowly. I batted my eyelashes at Dani. “Don’t suppose you could pass along my phone number to him? I’d love to know which game he’d like me to bring luck to.”

The table fell into a dead silence, all eyes wide and mouths agape. After the guys exchanged looks that could only be described as utterly shocked, Colin finally cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “are you asking Dani to give Roy your phone number?”

Feigning innocence, I nodded. “Sure,” I chirped. “Is that alright? You all said he’s single, so…” I shrugged and turned to Dani. “Unless you think it’s too weird, chulo?”

“No, no,” Dani assured me. “I can give him your number.” He tilted his head at me. “You… you liked Coach Kent, then?”

Nope. Not at all. Not one fucking bit.

“Sure,” I giggled, hating myself. “I mean, as much as I can like a man after one drink and a couple of dances.”

His smile lit up the entire club as he lifted his drink. “Well, then Coach Kent is a lucky man. I will give him your number tomorrow, how does that sound?”

I tapped my glass to Dani’s. “Sounds like a plan.”

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chloecherrysip · 1 year

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all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 2!)

(Part one can be found here!)

(Thanks again to everyone who read the first part and was so sweet about it! Here's the continuation. This is a shorter interlude with Mario and Luigi's family before we get to the main "meat" of the story AKA Mario and Luigi talking on their own in the third part, coming soon. I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate any thoughts/feedback. I will get this uploaded on AO3 as soon as I can as well, if you'd prefer to read over there.)

“Hey-o!”

Things had been so quiet on their long, long, long trek back home that the sudden noise made Mario stiffen as they shuffled through the door, every nerve on high alert for a breathless few seconds. Luigi, who had practically sleepwalked the last block with his head leaned against Mario’s head, using his brother's hat as a makeshift pillow, started too, mumbling a greeting that barely resembled the English language, waving at the front door before realizing he was turned around and swaying around to face the warm light of the dining room instead. It looked like dinner was already over, dishes and silverware being cleared away.

“Look who finally decided to show up! Brooklyn’s brand-new heroes!” Uncle Arthur raised a nearly empty glass of what looked like wine in laughing celebration. “What, you save the city from a bunch of weird turtle goons one time and you’re too good to share a meal with us regular bums?”

“They were helping with the cleanup,” Aunt Marie hissed, swatting him hard enough to elicit a yelp. “Where were you out there, huh?” She smiled warmly at Mario and Luigi on her way to the kitchen. “Sorry we couldn’t wait any longer. Gramps and Mia needed to get to bed. But don’t worry, we saved plenty!”

“Probably too busy signing autographs for all the bella signore,” Uncle Tony guffawed. “Hard to blame ‘em! Better enjoy it before they figure out you’re plumbers with no money!”

“Heh, yeah. Caught us fair and square,” Mario said, managing a weak laugh. Luigi let loose a tiny, snorting chuckle too, although whether that was because he was backing Mario up or just blindly mimicking what he heard, too lost in his own sleepy little world, Mario wasn’t sure. They were still holding onto one another, which they’d maintained the entire walk back except in places where it was impossible to proceed in that way (ladders and the like). That way, a repeat of the stairs incident couldn’t happen, and Mario had known exactly when Luigi was getting shaky enough to need a break. He squeezed his brother’s hand as a way to check in. It took a few seconds, but Luigi squeezed back gently, which was a small relief.

“Is that the boys!?” Without any further warning, their mother barreled out of the kitchen like a runaway train. She grabbed them in both arms, her shaking grip tight enough that both brothers wheezed from a sudden lack of air. “Oddio, where have you been? You already vanished on us once! My old heart can’t take much more of this.”

“You’re not that old, Ma,” Luigi murmured, patting her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Mario said as clearly as he could manage with his face smothered in her hair. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just, uh, lost track of time, that’s all.”

“What happened?” That was Dad, moving slower to catch up with her, his brow creased deep. “Are you all right?”

“Never been better!” Luigi insisted, overly bright. The bone-crushing hug had woken him up a little, but now he was using his I’m definitely lying but maybe if I speak at a much higher volume, no one will be able to tell voice. “We were just, y’know, real busy making sure everyone on the block could still…flush their toilets! Everyone forgets how important that is. Can ya believe it?”

“And we had to make sure our friends got home safely too,” Mario jumped in, rubbing his mom’s back with his free hand as she continued to hold on for dear life. You get temporarily swallowed by a giant, man-eating plant in front of your parents one time… “But we’re definitely not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and Aunt Marie said something about leftover food, if you can forgive us…?”

“Of course, of course.” She finally stepped back, but not before one good, firm pinch of the cheek between her fingers for each of them. “You’ve worked so hard, my brave boys. You must be about ready to turn inside out from hunger already. Sit, sit, I’ll bring it to you—”

“Actually, Ma,” Mario interjected as gingerly as possible. “It’s been a really, really long day. Could we, uh, maybe take the food in our room? I know, I know, you don’t like that, but if anything gets messy, I’ll take care of it, promise—”

“Ya can’t be serious!” Uncle Tony spoke up all of a sudden, his chair screeching against the floor as he jumped up. “You two still gotta give us the whole rundown of where ya been! Where did that angry, spikey dragon-turtle-guy even come from?”

“And the tiny kid who looked like a big ole mushroom with legs!” Uncle Arthur added.

“What about that giant monkey in the tie?” Aunt Marie piped up, half-laughing in sheer disbelief as she came back into the room. “He could talk! And not just little words, no — if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was hittin’ on me.”

“Look, I get it, I get it,” Mario insisted as good-naturedly as he could manage. He started to inch towards the hallway with Luigi in tow, who he could feel becoming jittery from all the new noise. All he needed was a few good, firm excuses, a clear escape route, and they were home-free. “It was pretty crazy stuff, right? But seriously, we’re dead on our feet as it is—”

“Then sit down already and take a load off!” Uncle Tony insisted right back. “We’ll make coffee!”

“Nooooo, no coffee for me. Now!? I-I think I might shake right out of my skin if, “Luigi started to joke, only to squeak when Uncle Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to steer him around anyway.

“C’moooon! A story like this can’t wait,” Uncle Arthur groaned. “This is the wildest thing that’s happened since Gramps’ teeth were eaten by that dog on the subway! Have some pity for your elders and their boring lives.”

“We’ll tell ya all about it tomorrow, I swear!” Mario said a little louder, desperately trying to sound casual even as the words scraped up his throat. It was too loud, too bright. A new wave of dizziness swam over him; everything was starting to seem more and more like a dream, his vision smearing at the edges. The only thing that still felt solid, real was his hold on Luigi. He stayed focused on it like a lifeline, even as they were jostled around. “And you’ll understand then why we need to sleep for a million years and then some, I swear, ‘cause we, we’ve really gone through the ringer here...”

“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if you just sit down for a minute?” Ma asked, smiling warmly. “Besides, I wanted to know a little more about that princess—”

“Ya gotta eat anyway!” Uncle Arthur downed what was left of his glass in one swig. “Don’t make us beg!”

“Forget the coffee. We’ll break out the Sangiovese and that’ll loosen you up real good,” Uncle Tony snickered.

Their uncle grabbed at Luigi again, pulling him along harder this time — hard enough that he panicked, his flailing hand struggling for a better grip on Mario’s before they were ripped apart. And that reminded Mario’s fuzzy, exhausted brain of something. A feeling he didn’t know how to describe in words but that cut into him like a knife between his ribs just the same, bone-deep and blindsiding and instantly overwhelming. He thought of—

(pink clouds and faint swirling light and green pipes and weird wind tunnels he could practically swim through and black shadows like soot in the air and lava glowing and Luigi shouting his name, Luigi panicking as he tried to calm him down, Luigi’s hand warm and snug against his because nothing could hurt them if they were together and nothing was going to separate them as long as Mario was strong enough, steady enough to make it that way but then there was a sound like thunder and the pressure grew and grew and grew and grew and GREW AND)

His body acted on its own. With both hands, he wrenched Luigi back towards him a few stumbling steps, out of Uncle Tony’s hands. “No!” He yelled, a hoarse, guttural sound.

Silence, save for car horns on the street outside.

Clarity came over Mario in a slow, creeping wave, quickly turning into a feeling of horror as he registered the way everyone had frozen in place around him, staring with wide, frightened eyes. Even their parents looked stricken. Luigi’s tired expression had flooded with worry too, but there was a glint of something warmer there as well — understanding. I felt it, his eyes said to Mario, as clear as day. I remembered too.

“I-I’m sorry, but we really, REALLY need to take a rain check, all right?” That was Luigi, breaking the silence, talking way more assertively than he usually ever did at home. Most of the time, the others drowned him out, but now, he had everyone’s undivided attention, insistently pointing with his one free hand that wasn’t still clinging to Mario’s. “We, me and Mario here, are a little loopy, all right? Not thinking straight in the least! It’s been a hard day — a hard couple of days! Three days, in fact! Maybe three days, or two! Heck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore! That’s how out of whack we are! Do ya get it already!?”

“Easy there, Lu,” Mario whispered. There was so much frantic gesturing going on that Luigi was starting to throw himself off-balance, swaying dangerously. He still felt ashamed, raw inside from the outburst, but Luigi jumping in had lessened it to the point that he could breathe again, at least. His amazing brother really was full of surprises today, it seemed. “But he’s right. I…it’s just been a lot."

Some glances were shared around the table. Surprisingly, it was Uncle Tony who spoke up first.

“Y’know what? You do look like you’d be shoo-ins for a zombie movie, no makeup needed.” He clapped them lightly on the shoulders one more time and then sat back down with a backwards wave of the hand. “Don’t worry about us. Go on, get out of here.”

“Get plenty of rest,” Aunt Marie said, her smile plainly apologetic.

“Man, that just gave me deja-vu like nobody’s business,” Uncle Arthur laughed. “Remember when they were tiny, Tony? We couldn’t peel them off each other for anything in the world.”

“Oh man, do I,” Tony snorted. “Not without them scratching and screeching like stray cats! Might as well have made you two — whaddya call it again? — conjoined twins and saved a couple steps.”

“There was that one time we were babysitting at the park down the street—”

Mario didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “Come on,” a familiar, gruff voice said near his ear, followed by two large arms herding him and Luigi away, their mother following close behind. “Get yourselves into the kitchen already.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Mario couldn’t help but insist once they were there, heels squeaking on the faded linoleum. Several of his stern talking-to’s over the years had started out much like this in the past; speaking up right away and defending himself before the inevitable yelling happened was practically second nature. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear, it was just—”

“Never mind that,” the older man cut him off. There was something soft in his tone, softer than Mario could remember hearing it before, and that was when he realized that he'd misread the situation entirely. His dad's eyes were dark with concern, not anger. "Now come on. Give me your gloves, and shoes too. Both of you."

Mario and Luigi glanced at each other and then down at themselves in confused unison, dimly registering that yes, they were still wearing all of that, having forgotten to take everything off at the door like they usually did. Some slow shuffling later, and it was gathered in a pile. Their dad plucked their hats off their heads as well (also missed), tucking everything in the sturdy crook of one arm. He used his free hand to ruffle their hair and pat their faces, one after the other.

"You did good out there," he said, "but what matters most is that you're all right. That's always gonna be what matters most to us. I just," he swallowed slowly, thickly, "I want to make sure you both know that."

For one very brittle moment, as his dad held his face in his big, warm palm, Mario genuinely didn't trust himself to not start either laughing or sobbing right then and there — maybe a crazy mixture of both. The feeling passed, thankfully, but he still managed a wobbly smile, a small nod.

“Now go and wash up. Ma will get the food ready.” Sure enough, their mother was already bustling around like a madwoman, plates clattering and half-empty pots simmering again on the stove. “Luigi, you first. Datti una mossa.”

“Yessir!” Luigi looked back at Mario before going, a tired, reassuring, still slightly worried look that said I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? Mario reflected it back, and their dad walked Luigi out of the room, towards the hallway.

“Just promise me you’ll tell us what happened tomorrow, all right?” Mario's attention returned to his mother, who was finishing stirring some reheated sauce with a little too much shaky speed before coming over to him, smushing his cheeks in both hands. “I don’t care how old you two get. You're still my babies, and babies shouldn't keep secrets from their poor mother."

“I promise, I promise! You’re gonna pop my teeth out, Ma!” Mario half-laughed, gently tugging at her wrists so he could talk more clearly. “Definitely tomorrow, okay? Right now, I…I don’t know if I could tell ya if I tried. It’s just a crazy blur, and I really gotta process it all myself, still. We just need a little time."

“I understand.” She drew him into another hug. Mario couldn’t help but sink into the familiar warmth, clinging to her. He’d been so worried about Luigi that he’d never even considered the idea that he might never see his parents again either. The realization hit harder than he’d anticipated. “Besides, I know I have nothing to worry about when you two are together. You do such a good job of looking after your brother.”

(Or even worse, what if he’d been able to come home in the end — but alone? What if he’d had to sit his parents down and tell them that Luigi was…)

There it was again — that sudden, sour feeling of wanting to cry, such a heavy wave inside him that he had to clench his teeth to the point of pain to hold back a gasp.

Stupid, he thought bitterly, almost angrily. What did he even have to be crying about? Once again, he weathered the rush, kept the walls intact by a hair. He closed his eyes and just let himself be held.

“Of course, Ma,” he croaked. “Always.”

#mario movie #super mario bros movie #super mario bros #mario and luigi #cherrysip fic #i am SUCH a big Mario and Luigi's Family Apologist you don't even know lol #they just remind me of my own family so much #when you have a big family the sheer number of people makes it really easy to lose things in the shuffle #especially when you're ALSO a family that ruthlessly teases each other about things like mine does #it is sometimes very hard to tell when something has gone too far or someone just isn't in the mood until the breaking point #but once that does hit i'd like to think that everyone takes it seriously in their family and backs off and reinforces the love first #next part will be longer and will just be mario and luigi!#thank YOU for reading <3 <3 <3

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