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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er��I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months

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holy- THE MAX WEED FIC MIGHT BE THE HOTTEST F1 PIECE IVE READ SO FAR OML PLEASE MORE DRUNK FILTHY SEX WITH MAX I BEG YOU!! or hear me out his rival (who already is into max but refuses to admit it) accidentally takes an aphrodisiac and she’s forced to beg and grind on max for his help!! size kink please with those huge thighs and hands of his ❤️❤️

oh my god thank you!!! i wasn't too sure how people would like intoxicated fics! i know that most write it with liquor, but if you've had sex while stoned, it's a nicer feeling. anyway, i'm really fucking with this idea so! i hope you enjoy!

and for those out there on the internet, send me your ideas! i love ideas to be shared and written!!!! send me your smutty ideas! i want em!!!

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, aphrodisiacs, begging/whining, size kink, praise kink, non-penetrative sex, driver!reader, recreational drug use (weed), enthusiastic consent, thigh riding, clothed sex, max being a good rival/lover

"i think i should cutting these up for you, schat." he said as he cut the bag open for you. nothing too spectacular on, just four pieces of chocolate, "so this was their response to not having weed." he picked up a piece and eyed it in the light of the kitchen.

most drivers had their vices, many indulged in the bitter nectar of alcohol. others enjoyed the private company of certain individuals, which left heavy stacks of money on nightstands and tucked into bank accounts. a small portion got their kicks from substances that went harder.

you remembered having to sit in a meeting with max when you first started in formula one about the dangers of illicit drugs. as if most of the retired drivers didn't have their brains re-altered by the likes of cocaine.

but this wasn't canada, or certain parts of the united states or even amsterdam. you couldn't just freely by your fix, weed, so you had to get creative. but someone with as much money as you, with that much influence in a city like monte carlo allowed you to get what you needed.

it may not be marijuana on paper, but it would do the trick on a saturday night during summer break.

"you don't think i can handle it?' you asked as you rested your chin against your hand with your elbow on the counter. you sighed, "you think so poorly of me, verstappen?"

he sighed, "no, i just don't want you passed out on my couch. the point is to have fun, not get wasted." he said but before he could grab a knife to cut it half for you, you had taken a piece of it and ate it down. max looked at you and put the knife back in the drawer, "you know, fine. fine, fine, fine. let's see how this goes, schat."

it was almost a dare and made you sit up a little more, you made a face at him, "what? i'm a big girl, i can handle a little drugs."

he drummed his fingers against the counter top and stuck out his bottom lip as he made a face back at you. his other hand was on his hip as he said, "like you could handle all that vodka in austria in twenty-nineteen. or when you out smoked me that weekend in amsterdam and i had to stay in your hotel room because you were going to cry if i left."

"ya know, verstappen. i don't like how i'm being spoken to."

he sighed, he went around the counter and kissed you on the cheek, "grab your bottle of water, you're going to need it." max knew, underneath it all, you carried a soft spot for him. he did for you as well, but he was a little more open about it. you had protected your soft underbelly when it came to him, while he held his arms open for you.

the feelings didn't start until an hour after you took it.

there was some movie on, but you weren't paying much attention. you were cuddled up against him. his arm was around your shoulders and kept you closed to him. you could feel the tingle in your feet and up your legs.

you made a small moaning noise with your nose in the side of his neck, right up against his hair. your hand was spread across the broadness of his chest.

your clenched onto his shirt and shakily exhaled as it start to really hit. everything felt gooey in your brain as you rubbed up against him. usually when you took part in illicit fun, you just got hungry or sleepy. but not this, something swirled in your gut.

"max." you said out of breath.

he pulled you closer to him and looked at you, "yes, schat? aw, was it all too much for you?" he cupped the back of your head and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

you whined against the kiss as you felt the heat run through your body. you felt hot all over, your knew your face must feel so hot. when you pulled away, you swallowed, "i'm.. i'm really turned on."

he chuckled, oh this was perfect. he rubbed the back of your head, those blue eyes enchanted you. this guy really was going tire-to-tire with you almost every weekend. that excited you.

you've thought about the sight of him in that driving suit, the stupid kits red bull puts him in. even now in a white t-shirt, and sweatpants after a nice dinner, you thought about what was under there.

"shit."

he chuckled then reached over to grab your metal water bottle. he opened it for you and gave you some. you drank it down heavily before he laughed once more. he put the bottle down and asked, "how are you feeling?"

"hot all over." you said, "i need you to fuck me."

he said, "i don't think i can. you're too high." he tucked hair behind your ear, but his eyes went wide as you got on either side of his thick thigh. he looked up at you and said, "schat, i need your word. are you okay to do this?"

you nodded as you gripped onto his shoulders, "yeah, yeah. i'll do all the work. nothing serious." even through the layers of clothes, you felt the stimulation across your clit. you could feel the blood rush in your ears.

your dug your nails into the meat of his shoulders, through the t-shirt he wore. you shakily exhaled, "i can see why everyone obsesses over your thighs." you then grabbed his hand and pressed your palm against his, "i didn't realize how big your hands were either." you giggled, "they're like bear paws." then pressed his hand against your heated cheek.

"they're not that big."

you nodded as you moved against him, your clothed cunt felt stimulated by the movements you made. plus his hands on you made you more turned on. your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "they so are, they're like big paws. big bear paws." you giggled as you squirmed against him.

max looked away from you for a moment and sighed deeply to compose himself. in all fairness he wanted to sink his teeth into you. he wanted to fold you in half and fuck you until no words could leave your mouth. but he couldn't not while you were like this, even when he said yes. he wanted to make sure that you were sober when he did that.

"why can't you fuck me, max? i've been such a good girl! i almost beat you in belgium, that should make you fuck me." you whined, you stuck out your bottom lip with your hips still grinding against his thigh.

he cupped your behind and kept his nose against your, he sighed, "i'd love to, beautiful." he said, "but, you're not in the right mindset. i know we're rivals. but, i could never hurt you." it was the god's honest truth.

"no fair!" you whined.

"if you need to get off again after this, you can feel free to... pleasure yourself." he said, the words got caught in his throat. he could feel the blush up to his ears at the sight of you grinding against his thigh.

you nodded and held onto him as you continued to rub against him. you panted wildly and you were louder than usual. nromally you were rather quiet, but while high you were pitifully loud. you kissed him on the jaw and said, "next time i wanna feel that nose of yours against my pussy."

he exhaled deeply, his heartbeat staggered, holy shit. your dirty talk was making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. he held onto you and let you continue to rut against him like a little puppy.

"aw, ya like that, max?" you asked softly.

he chuckled, "i have to say, usually you're more subtle. i didn't know that you liked my body so much."

you looked at him and said, "max, are you fucking kidding me? have you seen yourself. the first time i ever saw you without your shirt on, i almost came!" this was something you'd never admit sober, "big ol' hands, big ol' thighs, big ol' nose. all leads to one thing." you jabbed your finger in his chest, "and i know the answer to that!"

if this was a dream that max was going to wake up from, he was going to wish he was dead. but as he clenched onto your hips and let you set your own pace, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

usually giving him a compliment was like having your teeth pulled. but right at that moment, your tongue was loose as you chased that orgasmic high you needed.

"just keep going." he panted, trying to keep himself together. and that you did, rubbing yourself raw against him.

you eventually hissed through your teeth as you climaxed in your panties. you wanted to cover your face from the rush through your system. you felt the sweat on your neck as you slowed down. you let out a few stray moans before you slowed down enough to a stop.

"holy shit." you panted as you rested your face against his shoulder. your fingers held onto the front of his shirt as you felt the aftershocks in your body.

he rubbed your back, "how are you feeling?" his cock was painfully erect in his sweatpants, but he wasn't going to try it push it further. not while you were in this state. he'd rather a painful erection then you getting hurt.

you pulled away and looked him in the eyes, your eyes were rimmed red as you nodded, "perfect, excellent, amazing. do..do you have any snacks in the fridge?"

he chuckled. you were painfully cute like this, all snuggled up with him. he knew come the next race you'd be getting in his face and challenging him at every turn. but at that moment, with you high as a kite both of the chocolate and sexual bliss. he ran his fingers through your hair and looked at your cute face. he said to you, "why don't you just lie down and i'll see what i have."

you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. you kissed him on the cheek, "you're a life saver, max!"

you woke up the next morning with a headache. it was a deep throb like a hangover but it still made you wince if you focused on it too much. you rolled over, away from the streaming sunlight and into max's arms.

"why did you let me take a whole piece?"

he moved his face closer to you and exhaled deeply, "because you're the most stubborn woman i've ever met." he pulled you closer to him, "give me five more minutes and i'll get you something for your head."

you pressed a kiss on his jaw. maybe he wasn't a total nightmare to be around. underneath the mask (or helmet) he wore, he was a caring man who wanted what was best for you. he even made you breakfast afterwards, but don't mistake it all for pure kindness.

come the dutch grand prix after the break, you two were going to go back to wanting to maul one another (and not sexually) <3

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jaywonjuice · 1 year

Text

📄🖇️ — bf!jake making sure you eat; taking care of you

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre non idol/student au, angst, fluff, drabble

requests: [here] & [here]; prompt #2 comforting you when you’re crying; #18 them making sure you eat.

WARNING tw! disordered eating!! we do NOT romanticise EDs over here please n thank you but pls pls pls skip on this one if you think you might find it triggering <3; sfw intimacy, kissing

wc 595

as you surveyed the sea of notes and past papers that were spread out in front of you over your unmade bed, your heart sank in your chest.

still so far to go.

rubbing your temples in a bid to ease your rising headache, there came a knock at your dorm door.

‘come in,’ your voice trembled a little involuntarily.

you watched as jake let himself in, closing the door gently behind him before turning to face you.

god he was a sight for sore eyes.

he looked like a dream just stood there in front of you in his sweatshirt and jeans, hair a dark ruffled mess, his eyes… full of concern.

you watched as he took in your appearance; you had dark circles under your eyes, your face was grey. you’d done your best to hide your weak frame in one of his oversized hoodies, but by the look on his face you could tell it hadn’t worked.

‘baby, i’m worried about you,’ he said softly. ‘your flatmates say you’ve hardly left your room all week,’ he pushed some papers aside and sat down next to you on the bed. as you looked up at him to meet his gaze, you could just feel how tired your eyes must look to him right now. you thought you might cry when you saw his face so full of worry as he watched you, soft brown eyes not leaving your face for even a moment.

‘you’re not eating again, aren’t you?’

the question fell over you like a wave; you hadn’t prepared yourself for him to be so straightforward with you. all of a sudden you couldn’t hold it in any longer, and hot tears came rushing down your cheeks. alarmed, jake pulled you into him and wrapped his arms round you tightly. as you buried you face into his chest, breathing in his comforting scent, wracking sobs took over your entire body.

‘shhh, oh baby,’ jake’s voice a near whisper as he kissed the top of your head. ‘please tell me what’s wrong?’

‘i’m sorry,’ you sobbed quietly, your entire body still shaking. ‘i’m really sorry i- i’ve been so stressed. i’m just so stressed all the time what with finals coming up and when i’m stressed i get this knot in my stomach, it makes me feel sick, and i- i just can’t.’

jake stroked your hair gently as he held you to him. ‘it’s okay baby, you’re gonna be just fine,’ he paused, thinking. ‘but you gotta eat.’

‘i know,’ your voice came small, barely audible. slightly calmer now, you pulled away a little and met his eyes. ‘i know, jake.’

he reached out a hand to stroke your cheek lightly. ‘okay here’s what’s going to happen,’ he said decisively. ‘i’m gonna go make us some pasta, and we’re gonna watch a movie, okay angel? all of this can wait til tomorrow. you need a break,’ he leaned in, bringing his lips to yours in the gentlest kiss. relief flooded over you as you kissed him back softly, feeling the tension within you melting away.

‘thank you,’ you whispered.

he nodded with a small smile, and started gathering all the papers up from the bed, placing them in a neat pile on your desk. ‘i’m going to be here to take care of you, but you gotta start taking care of yourself, too.’ he leaned down and placed a firm kiss on the top of your head. you smiled gratefully.

‘i really love you jake,’ you whispered.

‘i love you so much, angel,’ he replied.

a/n i’m so so thankful for this request, tysm to both anons who asked for jake with these prompts! i honestly think that jake would be the most caring boyfriend so this just suits him so well. pls remember to always take care of yourself (you know jake would want you to ♡).

TAGLIST ೃ⁀➷ @thejakeslayla

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

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giorno-plays-piano · 8 months

Text

Binary Star

Part II

Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he’s done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

Part I

P.S. Academic rival -> CEO!Gojo

_____________

When he spots her name in the stack of papers his HR left on her desk, Satoru gets a brain freeze for a second. Couldn't be the girl he had once studied together with, no. It's been what, more than ten years since he had last seen her? It must be some other woman wearing the same name.

But he can't just leave the paper be, immediately taking it in his hands while the manager makes a confused face: Satoru only looks at the candidates' profiles when they are aiming for the high management positions in his company, nothing less. This woman, however, applied for the middle-level position, only recently becoming a senior at her old job. Why is the CEO looking at her CV so intently?

All Gojo sees is the name of the school they both graduated what feels like a hundred years ago, and he knows it's her. It's the girl who was his one and only rival, someone he had finally considered his equal when they both were fighting for the position of a valedictorian. It's her. He can finally understand what has happened.

Not that he wasn't searching for answers right after graduation. Knowing Shoko sometimes hung out with her, he was showering the girl with questions until she groaned something about the family of his classmate moving and that it's likely he would never see her again. She didn't tell why. Said she had no idea.

It's true, Satoru sees now: his old rival did move god knows where, nearly half across the country to a place he didn't even know existed. Some tiny city, he thinks as he googles the college she attended only to realize that it is, in fact, a community college. Community college? For someone as talented as her? Was she out of her goddamn mind? Even if she, for some unfathomable reason, didn't want to go to Harvard like him, despite her scholarchip, she could have chosen any other decent place with her marks. How could she do this to herself?

He continues reading the resume, the memories of her annoyingly pretty face fresh in his mind as if it all happened just yesterday. Internships at some tiny companies, assistant positions, and other entry-level jobs she should have never taken in places he has never heard of either... Until she finally moved here about two years ago and started slowly climbing the career ladder. Unfortunately, her CV leaves Gojo with more questions than answers he expected.

"I want you to interview her," he finally says to his HR manager, who's been shifting in her seat impatiently ever since he had taken the printed papers from her desk. "And if she says yes, I want to know when she'll come."

He isn't sure why he's doing it. It's been far too long to be holding any grudges, and, honestly speaking, he isn't angry at his old school rival. Curious, perhaps? This must be it. He just wants a closure of sorts. He wants to know why she has abandoned everything she believed in, even if it's selfish of him to be prying into her past. Clearly, something had happened. Something horrible.

Did she get pregnant, maybe? Gave birth? Remembering her father, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the reason they had to move. And yet, she didn't seem the type to do something like that... Not when he had never seen her speaking to boys outside of school, and even then, she would only be talking to them about lessons and future college or university prospects.

He has to have some patience, Satoru thinks. Surely, she'll accept the interview and come in person.

And she does, walking in the building - Gojo watches her from above, peering down from his fancy cabinet with enormous windows - just two days later. She looks somewhat different - not that he didn’t expect her to change after all these years - but there's the same air about her, he can feel it in his bones. It makes him strangely nostalgic, and he starts to itch to go down and talk to her the second she waltzes into the office of his HR. He needs to know why she left. Her secrets are making him restless like a child.

He needs to see her face when she realizes he's both the owner and the CEO of the company she wants to work for.

After giving her about 10 minutes, Gojo runs down the building as if he's a boy chasing an ice cream truck. He needs to see her. The itch that has been dormant for almost ten years is almost unbearable now, and he has no time to waste before she disappears again from his life.

"Yuki, I have a question..." he starts as if he has no idea she's conducting an interview at this very moment, making a surprised face and almost shouting the name of the woman he once called his equal. "Woah, I can't believe it! Is it really you?!"

Satoru knows it's not right to be that happy about her baffled - if not fearful - expression, but he can't help himself. Here she is, the girl who could never shut up in class whenever a teacher asked them a question, sitting in the office he built with the money he earned, not borrowed from his father. He is where she has always wanted to be, Gojo is sure. Geto would probably smack him for being a smug bastard in front of a woman who surely has nothing against him, but Satoru feels ecstatic.

Until he sees she is not only scared: she is terrified. Why? Is it because her old rival ended up doing much better than her? She must be feeling upset and jealous, but she shouldn't be horrified. There's nothing to be scared of. Is she worried she won't get this job because she thinks Satoru is a manchild who can't forgive her for their silly school competition?

Or is she scared of him?

He doesn't like the thought.

"I'm so happy to see you!" He adds with a too-wide smile. "What are you doing here?"

It's concerning how she bites down on her lower lip, nearly ripping the thin skin covered in lipstick.

Thankfully, Yuki finally acknowledges his presence with an awkward smile, "Mr. Gojo, good morning. I apologize, but we are in the middle of a job interview. If it's alright with you, I'll come see you a little later."

The woman in front of him still doesn't utter a single word, and he feels like she'll escape him again if he lets her. With a dramatic sigh and a smile so wide it's a wonder how his face hasn't cracked yet, he announces to her, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry for interrupting! But you'll wait for me after your interview, alright? We can go grab a coffee together! It's not like it's against our company policy, right, Yuki?"

If eyes could kill, he would definitely be dead by now because his HR is ready to stab him with a fork she once stole from a cafeteria and is now keeping in one of her drawers. Satoru isn't that suicidal yet, so he quietly leaves her office before his old rival can utter a single word.

Now, this is about to get interesting.

_________

Tags: @minshookie29 @mononlogue @whore-for-hawks @theoriginaluzisimp @khatte @brooke-gvf @nimuelis

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #yandere #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader

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marlsswrites · 1 month

Text

More books and idiots

Ice skating AU, part 9!!

August 11th - words: 696

First part Previous part

Once again, the store was almost empty. It was like this during the day - most people at work or simply wouldn’t waste their time in a bookstore. In Regulus’ opinion, it’s amazing way to spend your day, but according to his friends he’s a bit sad.

It’s not sad, leave him alone.

He likes the store like this, quiet. It finally gave him some time to sit and stew alone with his thoughts. On reflection, that necessarily isn’t a good thing. Once he gets lost in his thoughts, that’s when he starts spiralling, and when he starts spiralling - he literally crashes like a glitchy video game.

“Excuse me?” A sweet familiar voice came from behind him as he turned his head to face James. “What’s this book about?” He held up a paperback copy that Regulus couldn’t quite make out. Squinting his eyes, he snorted when he saw the title.

“Hi James.” Regulus took the book from James’ hands and pointed at the front cover as he crossed his arms. “That’s the bible.”

“Wait really?” He gaped, snatching the book back as their hands touched - it was only a second, shorter than anything really. It was rather pathetic how that one action made Regulus bite back a smile. “I just picked up a random one, I mean well I- oh it actually is. Shit.”

Regulus only started at him while he skipped over his words, a small smirk tucked away in the sweet corners of his lips. “Why did you just pick up a random book?” He queried.

A blank stare along with a hand running through his dark hair, it looked so messy - Regulus wanted to brush his hands through it and weave it through his fingers while he felt the softness at his touch.

“Do you want a re do?” Regulus laughed, failing to hide the smirk that was now present on his face.

James swiftly nodded and slotted the book back onto the shelf. “Uh-uh, yeah.” He snorted bit his bottom lip as his face blossomed into a smile that Regulus could drink up and survive on for the rest of his life.

“Hi, have you got any book recommendations?”

Again, failing to keep a straight face, Regulus looked down at the floor and brushed a black curl behind his ear with a chuckle and looked back at the man in front of him. “I do, what type of things do you like?” He started to walk away from the shelf he was leant on - they were in the cookings section and Regulus doubts that James is here for a cook book. James stayed in tow, following him around as he thought about the question for a moment.

“What do you like?” James asked after a minute.

“Huh?”

“Like- what are your favourites?”

He let out a shocked breath. “Oh, literally so many- uh,”

“I have time.” James spoke with an innocent smile, as if they didn’t turn Regulus into a pathetic puddle on the floor - flushed cheeks and a heart beating so far out of his chest he wouldn’t be surprised if James could hear it.

“Alright.” He shrugged, hopefully looking nonchalant, but in his current state he’s not so sure. “So there’s…”

And that’s how they spent the next hour, talking about books and rifling through the shelves to find ones that he thinks James will love. Normally, people got bored after five minutes of Regulus talking about his interests, but James was the complete opposite. He followed around and seemed to absolutely absorbed in everything Regulus had to say, even offering Regulus more time to go on when he cut himself off.

He knew he could ramble quite a bit when he got into a conversation that he was actually enjoying for once, in most situations he just stops talking and apologies. But not with James, he only frowned and pushed him to carry on talking.

Oh god it is not fair of him to make Regulus feel like this, he wanted to scream, cry, smile, laugh and scream again all at the same time. If he keeps this shit up Regulus doesn’t know how he’s supposed to survive.

Next part

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aroseformyself · 1 year

Text

yandere twst au !¡

⚠️tw: bullying, violence, nsfw, blackmail, yandere, noncon/dubcon, mc is depicted to be small and fragile (im not even like that but it fits with the theme), reader is gn for half then fem

. A Z U L A S H E N G R O T T O !¡

. the obsessed clingy stalker !¡

. stats

easily angered: 5/10 physical capability: 4/10 gullibility: 5/10 sexual sadism: 4/10

azul is an business man, he knows his way to get someone to fall apart and has dirt and almost everyone. and if he doesnt the moment he finds a weakness he will exploit it with all his power. considering this info, once azul finds out mc is living in ramshackle, the perfect little hang out for the monstro lounge AND is magicless. azul will definitely find a weakness, a insecurity, or even a fear and attempt to force mc into a contract.

however, when mc refuses, azul can’t believe it. he had just offered them the offer of a lifetime, money and a confortable place to stay, but they refused. they didn’t even read the fine print (which would make mc an employee of the lounge).

azul is fuming because of this and almost throws a tantrum before the twins calm him down, saying they’ll take care of it. azul had a realization, the twins will find a way to force you into the contract, either they annoy you so much you sign just to get floyd to stop seeking you out in the halls. or to get jade to stop trying to feed you random foods and drinks that he swears are not “poisonous and harmful”.

so when the twins come back empty handed after weeks, you can understand his confusion and frustration. even though he’s offered you a great deal (minus you being an employee) and the twins annoying you so much, you should be running back, wanting him to stop the torture. he expected you to give up the first time he offered, or even run to him earlier, especially since your magicless.

he doesn’t get it, anyone else except a select few would have given up by now, so why didn’t mc?! they just keep going on with that old house that is one sneeze away from falling apart. it makes his blood boil that he can’t figure them out, “perhaps they’ve already planned for all of this!” azul said to jade, but jade shook his head, saying its impossible for someone as weak as mc to think that far ahead. they were thrown into a world of magic, surely they couldn’t have seen anything coming. but they are stoic all the time around azul and the twins…

mc not talking to them and lowley avoiding azul has lead all these thoughts about them to bubble up in azuls mind. it had him second guessing his moves for the first time, re-thinking how things will play out. but azul has a revelation, mc would be a powerful ally to octavinelle and could be a powerful business partner. as long as he plays his cards right mc will be his.

and unknowingly of mc, they’ve stuck themselves in azuls brain, permanently. while they were just trying to save themselves, they ended up falling deeper in, in the process. azul had become obsessed with them, so much so that he wanted them by his side forever, to never leave and stay with him at all times.

”what a poor unfortunate soul, but fret not, l/n, let’s make a deal.”

. J A D E L E E C H !¡ . F L O Y D L E E C H !¡

. the sadist stalkers !¡

. stats

easily angered: 2/10 easily angered: 6/10 physical capability: 7/10 physical capability: 8/10 gullibilty: 1/10 gullibility: 5:10 sexual sadism: 4/10 sexual sadism: 7/10

jade is majors in strength, intelligence, and communication. he acts very gentlemanly, and masks almost everything up with a smile. considering this he. is midly shocked when azul comes into the lounge about to cry because of a little migicless mc from another world. he heard about the mc because gossip at NRC spreads quicker than wild fire. he knows about them being form another world, one without magic above everything else. so why would azul be so frustrated by a little thing like that?

it all starts to make sense when azul goes and comments on everything mc did to avoid him, saying things like “they’ve had to have known” which makes his interest in mc burn. jade like things he finds interesting and loves testing them. so you’ve been put on his radar to look out for (same with floyd). when he does get tired of azuls whining he decides it’s best to see for himself. little did he know, mc is a master of evading, whenever mc saw him they would immediately walk forward, a stoic expression on mcs face, acting as if they were so focused on something else, they weren’t thinking of the world around them. and of course he didn’t run after them, he would have looked like a fool, running after a random person in the middle of the campus. then there was mcs annoying so called “friends” who were invading personal space and always around them.

as if mc running away all the time wasn’t bad enough, they’re friends also didn’t seem to fond of jade. so they ran away to! jade was now trapped in a position either to suck it up and go to floyd, admitting he had trouble with mc, or find a time where mc would actually approach him. option one was the quickest, and time is somethign they don’t have with everyone starting to like mc. especially the animals from savanaclaw.

when jade asked floyd to help out, he didn’t expect floyd to literally tackle mc into the wall and squeeze really tight. and on top of that, mcs stoic facade breaking and their eyes watering was the most important thing to think about. if they do have the ability to have emotions, why cover it up? jade kept the thought in the back of his mind.

floyd is a moody teen who likes seeing peoples reactions specifically people he’s interested in, which now includes “shrimpy” or mc. he wants to see them all, all the expressions and emotions they are capable of. so while jade asked mc a few questions regarding their cooperation with azul and the price they want to become an emplyee of the lounge, he noted floyd’s hands wandering all over their body. when one of his twins hands went to their thigh and gave it a slight squeeze before almost sliding up into their shorts which caused mc to let out a breathy gasp, is when he decided it was enough. telling floyd to knock it off before someone comes over. (not bc he hard)

when jade and floyd come back to azul’s office to tell him they finally got what they needed, they can tell azul has been over thinking. and as amusing as it is, they can aslo tell he has a new place in his life for mc. but the thought of mc is enticing, who can blame him? even the twins have taken a new liking to mc, but the question is, how is mc going to deal with them.

fem!reader

now azul, jade, and floyd are tasked with finding a plan that you won’t be able to tinker with. one that is simply ingenious. and your friends are the perfect targets. floyd first suggested just enslaving the school and you along with it, and azul and jade built from that, taking the exam to their advantage, azul made fake exam cards and fake answers for the dtudents to study with, the ones who didn’t make it to top 50 were toast and the ones that did weren’t free to leave leave. of course they suspected you wouldn’t fall for that, but you weren’t the target.

ace trappolla amd deuce spade, your closest friends fell for it in an instant, and didn’t tell you. just how they thought it would play out. azul felt great in his glory, no more times that you can make him second guess himself.

you couldn’t believe the smug looks on their faces when they saw you walking into azul’s office after you your friends failed. azul started by questioning how your day went, and you harshly replied with “horrible”. but it didn’t seem to make even a dent in his facade, he just chuckled and proposed an offer you couldn’t refuse. freeing your friends and you taking their place, and of course you said yes, you were just to innocent for this school if you thought they would just make you a forced emplyee.

and oh how they wished to ruin that innocence. the first day of your job was saturday, so you weren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen, all you had to do is take people orders and give them said orders. pretty easy, and since it was a weekend you didn’t have any work for school to do. however what you did NOT expect floyd to be following you around, monitoring you and all your movements. so when you accidentally dropped a drink, floyd hugging you while saying, “oh~ look who messed up!” wasn’t a surprise, but floyd dragging you back to azul and setting you down on his table, while jade walked in.

. slight nsfw !¡

you frantically tried to defending yourself by explaining what had happened thinking they were mad with you, “i didn’t mean to-” but azul cut you off, holding a finger to your lips.

“as you know our supplies are limited until we can bring in more at the end of the week.” but it is the end of the week, your sweat drops as floyd stand behind you, his hands graze your thigh. “we require payments and sense you are in no position to pay in full. we must take it from you in other ways…” his evil smirk did nothing to calm you, are they gonna beat me up? you thought, as floyd’s hands gripped your thighs tightly. but your heart dropped when his hands moved toward your inner thigh, prying them open despite your protests. “hush now, it’ll feel good, i promise.”

you need a safe place to escape to. perhaps savanaclaw will work?

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #smut #twst smut #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech

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swifty-fox · 5 months

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yo you post your fics on AO3? if so please share your user babe

omg yes I do! you can check my swiftywrites tag but

Masters of the Air:

Kingdom for a Kiss - 104k Long-form Postwar exploration of Clegan's relationship and their trauma. Explicit.

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

understanding in a plane crash: WIP (5 parter, three parts up) Prequel fic to Kfak, as told from John Brady's perspective as a POW

“The thing you can't quite put your finger on about DeMarco,” He says, “is that you want him to fuck you til you cry. Sorry to spoil the game for you.”

Brady stares at him and stares at him, alone in the Base’s Chapel and rosary halfway finished. He thinks he might throw up, or maybe strangle Curt Biddick and then throw up.

“Lock it up, Johnny, they’re gonna see you bleeding it all over soon.”

press your tired hands against my lips darling: Finished. 3K word re-write of the Bucks final conversation in the cockpit. Loose prequel to KfaK but with some minor inaccuracies Mostly SFW

Gale takes John's hand, brings the scarred knuckles to his mouth and holds it there, turns their hands over til he can place his lips to the pulse point at John’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, there’s no press or pursing of lips, but tender nevertheless, intimate in a way that makes Gale shudder. Cautious of whether John will even allow this.

“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Gale says whisper-soft. He feels John’s pulse skip a beat, “but I prayed every day you were safe and alive and coming back to me. Every morning, and every night.” He lets himself cry again, tears hidden against the scarred skin of John's hand.

Little Beast: Ongoing. Porn with a bit of Plot modern au of Burnout John and Priest Gale. total of 30k of them fucking and arguing. Three Parts so far. NSFW to the max

“It’s such a shame you’re cooped up in here like Rapunzel there Buck.” John drawls lazily. He makes a show of looking around “Is Mother Gothel nearby?”

Buck has to fight back against another smile, wouldn't give him the satisfaction or the encouragement “Father Huglin is away at a conference today.”

“All alone without a chaperone.”

The Old Guard:

in another life maybe you and i would be walking down an aisle in white: Finished Joe/Nicky (18K) Art Professor Joe & Art Conservator Nicky reconnect after ten years. This one is uh. Sad. Mind the tags. It's an incredibly personal piece to me and probably one of my favorites .NSFW

Dear Joe, you have always been the brave one and I wished every moment for even a drop of that. Perhaps that is why I claimed you as mine, out of a desperate need to have even an ounce of what made you, you. I desired you but I would not, could not ever let you in. I loved you and kept you and hurt you, keelhauled you against the impenetrable ship that was my heart and when the ragged pieces were left behind I still asked of you your silence.

It is no wonder our love was left in bloody tatters on that lawn.

Make me a Saint: Finished (8k) Nicky and Nile mete out some justice to a corrupt priest. NSFW for violence. Mind the tags. As of right now, my most popular fic

“ I was a priest before your bible was even written old man ” Nickys voice thunders in the tiny room, crackling over the walls like fire. Even Nile flinches at the sudden volume. He takes another step forwards, bracketing Father Marcus’ arthritic twisted feet with his own.

His voice does not shake.

“I preached the word of God before your language was even invented . I have known the church for longer than you can comprehend. I have seen great men and evil men take up the word of the Lord and I have seen them all rendered dust. I have seen you and I have judged you, Father Marcus. The Church may practice restraint but I do not. The diocese may have turned a blind eye I but I do not. The courts may have found you innocent but I do not .

Calcification of a God: Finished (4K) Nicky has a lil Menty B and then Joe gives him a bath. Mostly SFW if I recall correctly

“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”

Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”

Wolfstar:

Oh Captain, My Captain!: Finished, 1.6k Drabble of Wolfstar cuddling and reciting poetry. SFW

He cups the back of Remus’s head, presses him further into the safety of his body with a hand on his mismatched, misaligned rib cage and rocks them slightly. Remus grunts slightly. Sirius hides the teeth of his smile against the follow of his own neck and allows the curtain of his hair to cover them both for a moment. He listens to the two of them breath, always slightly out of sync, out of rhythm. Remus quick and labored, Sirius racing to catch up only to find himself charging ahead only to drop back behind when he tries to slow down.

“ If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive ” That doesn’t fit quite right, so he tries another, brow furrowed and fingers tracing the knobs of Remus’ spine like the knots on a tree, with reverence and a little hint of greed.

#swiftytalks #swiftywrites #my fics #wolfstar #clegan #joe x nicky #the old guard #masters of the air #just thought i would take this chance to compile all the links

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gayaest · 21 days

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I just want to say your Paravolley AU has helped me a lot with overcoming internalized ableism, made me learn about sitting volleyball, and has also gotten me to read and watch Haikyuu again after years. I've been a volleyball person my whole life but I got a sports injury in highschool and now use a cane (and hopefully a rollator walker in the future).

Kageyama Tobio has always been my favorite character and seeing him in your AU hit me really hard. Though we don't have the same injury, I saw myself in your portrayal of him very much.

Your AU had made me re-evaluate the Haikyuu manga and anime through a disabled lense, and made me fall in love with Furudate's story all over again. Even stronger than it was before. And I adore the parallels you decided to put with your own AU.

I've since been searching up if there's sitting volleyball in my area (with little luck so far but dammit I'm going to keep looking). I'm so disappointed that it's never been brought up to me when I got injured. I'm upset that I was convinced that I'd never have a place in volleyball again. I legitimately started crying tears of joy when I learned sitting volleyball existed.

Thank you so much for your AU. I think it'll have a special place in my heart for a long time.

This is a genuinely sweet and kind-hearted message, and I have to thank you for sending it.

It means a lot that my AU brings comfort to not only myself, but other disabled people as well — the idea that my experiences, thoughts, feelings, research, etc is being put to good use to help and soothe people is more than I could ever wish to achieve or want.

I think something so important in my AU with Kageyama is that he wasn’t born disabled, he got his spinal cord injury at one of the worst points in his life, while simultaneously losing his support system (grandfather). He had no idea how to cope with becoming disabled because the people he surrounded himself with previously (MiddleSchool Volleyball Team) all turned their back on him and his drive to still want to play volleyball and feel lost without it. In turn, he turns that anger and fear and disappointment into internalized ableism, and even some outwards ableism he doesn’t even realize he needs to fix, because it’s just something most able-bodied people get told or believe. He pushes himself past his limits, hoping that he could one day be back to his old self, but that old self no longer exists, and that’s something the Karasuno Sitting Volleyball team teaches him. They teach him acceptance, support, community, etc when he didn’t even know it existed before.

I’m glad my AU can resonate with so many people, and I wish I could blab even more about it because it’s always in my head constantly, so if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask about it.

Furudate’s story is truly amazing, and to me, it doesn’t lose it’s charm and meaning for me as a disabled person, in fact, in makes me want to form even bigger bonds with community and other disabled people.

Thank you again for the ask, anon! It’s very sweet.

#anon #paravolley au #paravolleyball #sitting volleybal #haikyuu #au #haikyu #kageyama tobio #i hope you can find a sitting volleyball team near you soon!

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alkaline-wtr · 6 months

Text

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 2 - -

Ghost x reader Description: Reader and Ghost make there way towards the city in search of supplies. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader, angst, gore, violence, explicit language, weapons, mentions of death WC: 2.6k

My Masterlist

**I finally finished chapter two!! I am awful at starting stories I find it difficult to push passes the mundane slow set up portion of fics but, I think I hit a decent point here in this chapter where it started to flow together. It took me way longer than I wanted to finish this one. Hopefully, the length makes up for it and from here on it should get a bit more interesting. Enjoy. (started a tag list at the bottom)

<< PART 1

You and Ghost make your way between houses looking for anything useful. So far you had found a few bottles of water and a bit of food. You secured yourself a pocket-knife but still have yet to find a suitable weapon.

You glance over your shoulders anxiously as Ghost pried a board out of the fence for you to cross through the next yard.

"Go on," he demands.

You don't even stop to think as you slip through the gap. Ghost following closely behind. You pause letting him get in front of you.

You continue through the backyard. A nice suburban area filled with an eerie silence.

Ghost scales the back wall of the house peering through the windows to check if it's clear.

You are lost in thought looking up at the tree house perched in the large oak in the corner of the yard.

Ghost works at opening the sliding glass door. He gets it open and glances your way. He clears his throat gaining your attention once again.

"If you're going to stick with me then keep your mind right."

He scolds. You give a small nod and follow him into the house. Ghost's gun is at the ready as he peers around each corner in a loose stance, ready for anything.

You stand back waiting for his okay like you had the many houses before. You couldn't help feeling like you were walking on eggshells with him.

Ghost re-emerges from the living room letting his gun fall to his side.

"Downstairs is clear. Raid the kitchen, I'll check upstairs."

You follow Ghost's orders heading straight into the kitchen. It is quiet as you search through the cupboards. There were just some plates, and cups in the first few above you so you decided to check the lower ones.

As you were crouched below the sink you heard a shuffling come from behind you.

You suspected it was just Ghost coming back down.

"Anything good?"

You ask still rummaging through a cabinet of cleaning supplies.

There was no answer.

A cold, wet, hand places itself on your shoulder. You turn, faced with the corpse of an old man. His bloodshot eyes and greying skin left your stomach in knots.

You let out a scream falling to the linoleum floor in panic, scrambling back away. You tried to grab the knife from your pocket but had no time before the man lunged forward his weight falling over you. You put your hands up defensively, pushing the man's shoulders back trying to keep him at least an arm's distance away from you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, his limp body squirming over you.

You let out a frustrated cry, using all of your strength to keep the corpse at bay.

Heavy footsteps bolt down the stairs, Ghost, having heard the struggle, comes quickly to your aid. His eyes were dark and focused. He pulls the mall up by the back of his tattered tee-shirt sinking the blade of his knife directly into the corpse's skull.

The old man falls lifeless to the floor. His body hit the ground with a thud.

Your chest heaved as you attempted to calm your panic. Ghost seems irritated.

"Were you Bit?"

He asks. His eyes search your body for any signs of harm. You shake your head.

Ghost seems skeptical about your response for a moment but quickly accepts it.

"This is exactly why I can't keep you around. You're clumsy and unfocused. It's a wonder that you've lasted this long."

The anger is evident in his voice. As harsh as it was Ghost was right, you weren't cut out for survival. You had no skills, no strength, no awareness.

In your mind, you look for an escape from this reality. Which sooner or later will get you killed. You need to learn to stay present and be prepared. Ghost could be the one to teach you that.

"That's why I need us to stick together."

You explain. Ghost shakes his head in pure annoyance.

"Please! I won't make it out here without you. I will do whatever takes, I can do better, I will find a way to be useful."

Ghost can hear the desperation in your plea. Ghost had always been the lone wolf type. Especially throughout these past months.

He shakes his head in frustration giving you no verbal response. Before all this, Ghost made a living saving people, sacrificing for the greater good. Things were different now, so why did he still care so much?

The both of you had continued in silence. Searching the remaining houses in the neighborhood.

You were upstairs in a master bedroom. The room was nice and put together, almost like the couple who occupied it had just gone off to work for the afternoon.

It was hard not to imagine those things. What had happened to the people in these houses that day? Who were they? What was their daily life like and what were they doing when the outbreak started?

You took a breath and made your way to the bedside table. The drawer opened with ease, everything inside the drawer was clean and untouched, unlike the rest of the room which was coated in a light layer of dirt.

You shuffle through the pile of papers, not finding anything useful. You shut the drawer and sat on the edge of the bed. There was a photo on the nightstand of a man and a woman on their wedding day, looking lovingly into each other's eyes.

Ghost comes into the room,

"I found you a pistol. The noise would draw too much attention so, you should only use it in necessary situations."

You don't respond to Ghost. He waits a few moments before coming around the bed.

"Y/n?"

His voice was soft. He seemed concerned, which was strange considering how unemotional Ghost had seemed.

"Please,"

The words are hardly audible. You turn to face him eyes glassy with tears.

"Don't leave me to die."

Your voice cracks on the last word and the flood of fear and sadness wash over you. You had been referring to an earlier conversation with Ghost.

He watches you with a sigh as you sniffle, feeling guilty but, Ghost kept his ground. He hadn't begun the outbreak alone, and he wasn't going to be responsible for anyone else's safety again.

"Y/n, we talked about this. Once we are past the city, I will help you get settled and be on my way. If I was leaving you to die, I'd have taken off by now."

Each word built up the annoyance inside him. He was tired of arguing with you about it and felt he was being fair in helping you for these few days. Ghost didn't appreciate how guilty you had been making him feel when he was trying to do the right thing by preparing you for survival.

You shake your head and stand up. Up until this point you'd kept quiet hoping you could change his mind by obeying but, it was clear now he had no intention of budging. Ghost had made up his mind and it was starting to piss you off.

"You're pretending like you're doing me a favor when in reality, you're only helping yourself!"

Ghost's jaw clenched under the mask.

"You only got this far because I helped you." He retorts, "I could have let those men back there shoot you! Is that what you prefer? Being dead on the road?"

You cross your arm over your chest and roll your eyes looking up to the ceiling like a teenager being scolded by a parent.

Ghost scoffs at the child-like attitude.

"I am giving you a chance to live. Nobody in this world owes you a goddamn thing, I know I sure as hell don't. So, if you feel like this is a waste of your time then get through the city yourself."

You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

"W-what?"

Ghost eyes narrow.

"You heard me y/n. I'm done. I tried to be nice I tried to help you, and you have done nothing but be unappreciative. I was alone for a reason."

Ghost looks down at the pistol he had found, he clicks on the safety before tossing it on the bed beside you and turns to leave.

You watch in disbelief as he stomps out of the room and down the stairs.

The front door closed with a thud and panic ensued. You bolt to the bedroom window watching Ghost continue down the street.

Overwhelming fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you hadn't felt like this since the outbreak began.

You were quick to pack up your things and pull your backpack over your shoulders.

Although it was rather useless to you, not having any knowledge of how to use it, you grabbed the pistol carrying it in your sweaty hand.

By the time you were out of the house and crossing the front lawn Ghost had already disappeared out of the neighborhood.

Your eyes darted around. Keeping on high alert, you began to walk down the street. You swapped the gun in your hand for the knife in your pocket as you continued, hoping to catch up with Ghost.

The fear made the situation feel surreal, you didn't want this to be happening, and you couldn't be alone again.

You hoped and prayed to any possible higher power that Ghost would change his mind, that he'd come back and apologize.

The sun was getting ready to set as you reached the outskirts of the city. It was apparent to you that it must be late afternoon by now and you hardly had a clue where to go from here. Without Ghost and his map, survival skills, and ability to navigate, you were sure you'd be dead by dusk.

You looked around for signs, anything that could tell you where you were or give you any sort of direction.

It seemed you were across from a shopping center, which you knew from any movies you'd seen of these types of survival situations, was a death wish. Yet so was the city. On foot at least, you figured a better bet would be the freeway.

You kept walking until you reached a freeway on-ramp. At this point, you'd accepted that Ghost was gone. It was impossible for you the assume which way he'd gone, where he'd stopped, and even if you could have guessed correctly what were the chances he'd still be there?

The freeway was surprisingly empty and quiet as you'd made it to the end of the ramp.

As you continued, your mind wandered to Ghost and the argument you'd had. You started to wonder if Ghost was right. Had you been that ungrateful? Were you anything more than a burden to him?

It wasn't long until you reached the long lines of abandoned cars. The eerie silence sent a shiver down your spine, you started to weave your way through the cars silently.

The area seemed to be safe. You glanced through widows as you passed hoping to find anything useful.

Finally, you stopped next to a smaller, silver car. Through the back window, you could see a couple of grocery bags. The front window was cracked, and you were able to push it down low enough to open the back door.

You sat on the edge of the seat and leaned in to search the bags. You were disgusted to see the rotten fruit and moldy loaf of bread but were relieved to find a few nonperishable items as well. You gathered what you could and continued looking.

The sun was almost set, and you had made it a few miles along. The lanes were still packed with abandoned cars.

With the sky getting dark you were getting nervous. The night would soon consume you leaving you in complete debilitating darkness. You had survived this way before, walking along roads allowing them to take you wherever they happened to end. But that had been then, in the rural parts of your small hometown. Where dangers were sparse and easily escapable.

You had been checking cars here and there for supplies as you moved forward. You had hoped by now you would find, at least, a better flashlight than the small one Ghost had given you but had no such luck.

Finally, you'd come across a pickup truck. It looked as if it had belonged to a company of some sort. In the back was a large toolbox.

You climbed up and over the tail end and into the bed of the truck. The toolbox was large and mounted onto the back end of the cab.

You lifted to heavy wooden lid and searched it.

With the last bits of remaining sunlight, you were able to make out the shape of a large hammer. Not the best weapon, but still infinitely more useful than a small knife.

Keeping the hammer in hand you pocket the knife and climb back out of the truck.

With darkness overtaking the road you decided it would be best to keep to the edge rather than in between the cars.

Your pace had become slower as you tried to keep as quiet as possible.

As you came to another passenger side window you could see the glistening of a flashlight on the dashboard. Your eyes widened, pulling at the handle frantically.

The door was locked. You slipped the hammer into your belt and walked around to the driver's side door. To your surprise, the driver's door opened with ease.

Unfortunately, the car alarm began blaring. Your heart pounded in your chest. Panicking you reached across the center console and grabbed the heavy metal flashlight.

You turned it on and searched the floorboards with the dim yellow light. There were no keys anywhere to be found.

You heard distant groans and snarls. If there was anything around right now, they were surely going to come directly to you.

You pulled yourself away from the driver's seat and began to run. Weaving again through cars. The dim flashlight hardly leads you through the road without tripping and bumping into the askew vehicles.

A corpse reached out to you from the back window of a car as you passed. Startled, you lost your balance and fell to the ground.

It fought its way out falling through the window and landing on the pavement beside you.

You reach up with a shaky hand feeling for the door handle of the car beside you. You swing the door open and climb into the back seat.

The door slams leaving the corpse to grasp desperately at the metal door with its bony fingers. Your chest heaves with panic but your feeling of safety is short-lived when a weak hiss comes from the driver's seat.

A skeletal hand reaches back between the front seats. You crawl to the other side and slide out of the car trying to steady yourself on your feet.

With the flashlight gripped tightly in your hand and the car alarm still blaring behind you, you continue to run. The weight of your backpack is starting to hurt your shoulders, but you push through the pain.

You fall to your knees, back pressed to a car. Your mind raced but you needed a plan. Where could you go from here?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of gunshots ringing through the air. A part of you was grateful someone was here to help. The other part of you feared whoever it was and prayed that it was Ghost. Although, you knew that was unlikely.

The shots continued. You turned off the flashlight and kept crouched along the cars as you moved forward.

The shots ceased and moments later so did the alarm. You froze in place crouched against the hood of a van. Footsteps approached, the crunch of glass and gravel beneath a pair of heavy boots, getting closer and closer.

There was a snarling, then the squelching sound of a knife entering flesh.

"Shit!"

Exclaimed a man's voice. A body thudded to the pavement and the footsteps continued.

That voice wasn't Ghost.

A white light shines on the ground beside you and you know you'd been caught. Your breath was caught in your throat as a pair of boots stopped on the road beside you.

This was it.

PART 3 >>

Tag list

@itsthealice

#cod au #zombie apocalypse au #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod angst #cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x female reader #cod x female reader #cw: gore #zombie au #ghost au #mw2 fanfic #cod mw3 #alkaline writes #☑️mstlst

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