#so... maybe I will give Bug one of the blue babies

[deluluyunik]

The perfect canvas

Minors please do not interact!

Rafayelxmc(reader)

Rafayel has been bugging you for a week straight, pleading with you to be his new canvas for a painting he was planning to do; he was persistent, ready to do anything to gain your approval. 

“Oh, come on, cutie! Just this once! Please be my canvas, and I swear I will do anything you want! ”

He was following you around his studio while you were arranging the groceries you bought. 

“I already told you no, Rafayel.” 

“Puu-leasee, you’re being so mean to me; you’ve been saying no to me constantly to the point my heart is hurting! ” 

He put the back of his hand on his forehead, one eye closed while the other took glances at you; he leaned his back on the fridge purposely to block your way from arranging things.

“It hurts so bad. Like, what if I just faint right now from being rejected by you this much? Oh gosh, I can feel it already getting into my brain; look!” 

You sigh, not knowing if you want to laugh or get annoyed by his obvious drama acting, but you remembered how cute and persistent he was the whole week trying to persuade you. 

He's always been there for you; he supported you in anything. Good days or bad days, his presence is what kept you going, and there he was, pouting like a baby.

Maybe giving him what he wants is what you could at least do to make him happy, right? 

You put down the vegetables you were holding and cross your arms. 

“So what exact part of my body do you intend to use as your canvas? ” 

His eyes widen in excitement from your question. 

“Your whole body, I want to paint in that pretty body of yours, cutie.” 

Your hand grips hard on your arm as he responds to your question; somehow you feel a cold feeling on your stomach. 

“My whole body? But how about my clothes? Do you want me to wear a bathrobe or a towel to cover my other body parts? ” 

Without hesitation he leans over and holds your chin, making your eyes meet his. 

“Who said I want you to cover it? No clothes, princess, remove everything.” 

“Even my undies? ” 

He smirks; that alone answered your question. He slowly guides your chin, showing you the view outside of his studio: the beautiful waves of the ocean kissing the shoreline, the birds flying, and the air stroking every single tree and plant—the view you both always liked to watch every single day and night.

Caressing your face, he smiles. 

“I want you to face that view while I paint your body; how does that sound, cutie? Hmm? ” 

You can’t help yourself but just melt into his beautiful shades of purple and blue eyes seducing you. 

“Okay, okay, I got it. Just let me get ready in the room first.” 

Satisfied with your answer, he grins, “Sure thing, my beautiful bride, take your sweet time. I will be here making sure things are ready.” 

He kisses your forehead before letting you go.

As you enter inside Rafayel's room, you start removing your clothes one by one. You fix your hair into a messy bun and decide to take a quick shower. You wanted to make sure to remove all the sweat from your body and smell nice for him.

After taking a shower, you dry yourself up and spray a new perfume.

You knew how Rafayel was sensitive and had a weakness to certain scents, especially the fresh and musky scents, which was the exact one you were using.

It's not like you wanted to tease him or distract him while he concentrated on painting your sexy naked body—your body that he loves to touch so much—or to make his shaft hard enough to make him fold.

Well, fuck it, you knew deep inside that was your purpose.

Covering your body with a towel, you walk downstairs to where he is.

You see Rafayel gathering his paints on the paint pallet; you raise your brows as you see he wasn't wearing his long sleeves anymore.

Staring at that broad back of his, you see how sexy and hot he looks flexing those back muscles and biceps with just a few movements.

Ah shit, it looks like you were the one folding already.

"Hello there, Miss Bodyguard, you look so cute with your messy bun."

He approaches you with that bright smile of his and kisses your cheeks.

"Sorry I had to remove my top wear; somehow my body feels kinda hot, but I'm sure it won't bother you so, are you ready, cutie?"

"Yeah, I am."

You walk to the spot Rafayel showed you; facing him, you remove the towel and let the towel fall from your hand.

You observe Rafayel's reaction carefully.

He is sitting on the chair, tilting his head slowly while looking at you, his eyes moving up and down like he was already seeing a masterpiece in front of him.

He gasps, hand gripping hard on his pants, voice low yet aggressive in tone.

"Fuck, and here I thought I could take it."

"Raf?" you say with a curious look.

He clears his throat and stands up.

"Yeah, just a sec."

He approaches you, placing both of his hands on your waist and caressing it. He turns your body to face the view and whisper

"You smell so good, cutie. Is this a new perfume of yours?"

You nod, leaning the back of your head on his shoulder.

His grip tightens on your waist as you feel his breath getting fast.

"I don't know if I can do much; you're already a piece of art for me, but will you be a good girl for me and stay still?"

"I will do my best."

"Thank you, princess." He kisses the back of your head. Stepping back, he holds his paintbrush, puts his thumb up, and closes one eye, measuring his new canvas.

"Relax your hands on your sides, stand straight, and lift your head up a little bit for me, cutie."

You do as he says.

"Yes, just like that, petite artiste, you're doing so good."

Somehow doing as he says and the way he was talking to you started to turn you on; your cunt was already pulsating, getting excited by the situation.

"Okay, princess, now stay still; I will start doing my work now... Oh, and by the way, no talking, okay? I want you to stay still, don't look back, and don't say a single word to me. I want to concentrate."

You nod, not understanding the serious tone in his voice.

You hear his footsteps getting closer to you, each footstep giving you butterflies in your stomach, making you gasp.

"Now let's see, hmm."

Rafayel uses the handle of his paintbrush to trace a line on your back; you knew he was ready to put his imagination and talent to work, but you were the one that wasn't ready for his touch.

As he traced lines on your back, he caressed it along the way. He was simply doing his thing, but when did your body become this sensitive to his touch?? You were already turned on, and now him touching you resulted in your cunt getting wet.

You hear the paintbrush falling down on the floor; startled by the sound, you almost move your head. Feeling uneasy by Rafayel's unusual silence, you take a deep breath.

Once more you hear his footsteps, perhaps going left to get another paintbrush? Or to the right to get his paint pallet? It was too quiet, too calm, but you, on the other hand, were screaming inside your head, wanting to see what Rafayel was doing.

Suddenly you feel the cold paint on your back; you feel Rafayel's hands running through your back with soft and gentle strokes. You couldn't stop your voice; you let a soft moan escape your mouth.

"Hmm? What is that cutie? Didn't I tell you to not make any noises? You're distracting me from making my masterpiece, you know."

He leans over your ear while still stroking your back.

"You look so beautiful, my miss bodyguard, staying still like a beautiful, perfect sculpture. Only I get to see you like this, my beautiful bride; you're all mine. So fucking perfect, gosh."

He licks your ears slowly, moving his lips to your neck and kissing it desperately with heavy breaths on your ear, teasing you as you gasp and roll your eyes back.

He puts more paint on his hands and pulls your back closer to him, one hand holding your breast while the other is doing an almost chokehold on your neck.

You can feel how hard his shaft is on your back, throbbing already, grinding on your back like it's begging to enter your precious cunt.

"Rafayel," you moan, not having the power to hold it in anymore.

"Nah, ah, cutie, hold your voice in; I can't concentrate on my work if you say my name like that."

His hands move down to your legs; opening them slightly, he rubs your thighs in a circular motion.

"It looks like I'm doing a great job, cutie, don't you think? Painting your precious back, neck, breast, and now your thighs. Where should I put my hands on next, cutie? Where should I paint you next?"

You tilt your head, giving him a love-drunk look.

"Ah yes, I forgot you can't talk; that's too bad, miss bodyguard."

He cleans off the paint on his hand using his pants

"But what if I touch you riiight here?"

He rubs your clit slowly and gently and sucks on your neck, leaving hickies. You start to grind your hips as Rafayel starts to rub your clit harder and faster; you suck on your fingers to stop your moans from coming out.

"Fuck, cutie, you look so beautiful holding your moans by sucking your fingers; what a good fucking girl you are."

He puts two fingers inside your cunt, curling it right away to hit your sweet spot.

"Do you hear that sound, cutie? Do you hear how good I am making this pussy feel? Look at all your juices coming out as I fuck you with my fingers, such a pretty girl just for me."

Your legs were shaking so bad, your cunt juices were already running down on your legs; you wanted to tell Rafayel that you wanted to cum; you wanted to tell him to fuck you, to put his big shaft inside you and fuck you so good till the only thing you could think was his name.

"What a sight, Y/N. You don't understand how fucking gorgeous you are. You love it when I fuck you with my fingers, don't you? These long fingers that just a while ago were painting and now are making your eyes roll back so bad."

You were on the verge of cumming, but Rafayel stopped; he removed his fingers and sucked on them while looking at you.

"Were you about to cum, cutie? Too bad I'm not letting you cum yet."

He goes in front of you and pushes you till your back is against the wall.

"Open your mouth."

You do as he says.

"Yes, open it wide just like that, baby."

He put his two fingers inside your mouth; he didn't need to say anything; you started to suck and lick his fingers right away.

He lets out a soft moan; gasping, he moves his thigh between your legs and holds your hips, giving you a signal to grind on it; he buries his face on your shoulder.

"This perfume of yours, you did it on purpose, right? I know you did, cutie. Did you want to dominate me with this scent? Did you want to use your way again and fuck me like a bad girl? Is that what you wanted to do?"

He moans loudly as you start to grind harder and faster in his thigh.

"Yes, my baby, just like that, grind on me; use my thigh as much as you want to."

You pull Rafayel's fingers out of your mouth and snap at him.

"I love you."

His eyes widen.

"Say that again."

"I love you, Rafayel."

"Fuck."

He unzips his pants, freeing his big cock, throbbing with pre-cum all over it, putting one of your legs in his arm; in one hard thrust, he puts his cock inside your cunt immediately.

You moan loudly, breathing heavily; both of you stay still, just feeling each other.

"I love you more than anything," he thrusts.

"I love you more than life itself," he thrust again, moaning and gasping.

"I can't live without you, y/n," his thrust becoming more deep, he pulls you by the neck and kisses you like it was the first time his lips touched yours.

"My beautiful bride, I've always been yours," he starts to fuck you deeper and faster.

"Oh, Raf, p-pleasee" you moan loudly. You could feel in each thrust his cock hitting your sweet spot.

"Tell me you love me again, y/n. Please tell me you love me, that you're not going to leave me. Please, please," he moans as he feels you clenching deep into his cock.

"I-I love you, Raf. I've always loved you. Nothing is going to separate us."

He bends you over and thrusts his cock deep again; he reaches into your clit, rubbing it while biting your shoulder.

"This pussy of yours is only mine; I'm going to make sure you will always feel hungry for me."

He fucks you even harder; he guides your hand to your clit for you to rub it. He holds your hips harder as your cunt clenches his cock; your legs start to tremble. Both of you were just moaning, blank minds just feeling the pleasure.

"Come on, cutie, fucking come with me. Let's both succumb to this pleasure and become an art de la réminiscence."

"Raf, I can't; I'm going to cum."

"Fuck, you're so cute; me too, princess."

Both of you cum at the same time. He hugs your body tightly as his hips are already jerking; he puts his hand on your legs to feel the nonstop trembling.

"Look, cutie, you're trembling so bad, I wonder why," he chuckles, lifting you on his arm (bridal carry). "Are you okay, cutie? Was I too harsh or anything?"

Breathless, you only smile at him.

"I'll take that as you're fine, haha. Let's clean ourselves then. Does a bathtub sound nice to you, Miss Hunter?

"Yes, please."

"Okay, cutie, you got it. Ah, by the way, please don't ever think the perfume was the reason why I snapped."

"What do you mean?"

He smiles.

"The moment you removed your towel in front of me, I had already made up my mind that I was going to fuck you."

[kedreeva]

Bug has been on her new nest ALL DAY. She stood up to lay an egg around 4:30pm (really early for her, usually she lays around 8pm), and I gave her a bowl of food (mice, grapes, mac and cheese) and water a few times.

[lovebugism]

Smut fic where reader and Eddie have been arguing since yesterday and he comes home from band practice and fucks her.

♡ “i was expecting a written apology but this is much better.”

ty for requesting :D — the best part of fighting with eddie, is making up with eddie (established relationship, hurt/comfort, smut 18+ | 1k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Eddie returns home from band practice to find the trailer brimming with the scent of something sweet. An entire symphony of chocolate and vanilla and caramel — a stark contrast to the stale stench of Gareth’s garage.

He spots you standing in front of the stove, humming mindlessly to yourself as you whisk at a large bowl of miscellaneous ingredients. You’re wearing a too-big sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, and a pair of fluffy socks sitting unevenly at your ankles. The sight of you is undeniably sweeter than whatever it is you’re baking for him.

Eddie leaves his guitar case by the front door and floats towards the kitchen with a lopsided smile. “Ooh. Smells good in here,” he lilts in place of a real greeting as he drapes himself along your back. 

He caresses your arm with one ringed hand while the other reaches around you. He dips his pointer finger into the bowl and brings it up to his mouth, humming at the sugary taste on his tongue. “You know— I was expecting a handwritten apology,” he slurs before swallowing it down. “But this is so muchbetter.”

You dig your elbow into his ribs. Eddie winces and stumbles back.

“It’s not for you,” you correct, gaze averted as you dump a bowl of dry ingredients into the chocolate gold. “It’s for Hopper. For saving your ass.”

The reminder makes Eddie groan. After all, it wasn’t his fault that asshole got too handsy with you at the bar. He didn’t even realize he’d punched the guy until his knuckles collided with his chiseled nose. (He thought for sure his hand was broken then, but the bruises look totally metal now.) 

The cookie-cutter douchebag was hellbent on pressing charges. Chief Hopper assured the asshole that the freak would be spending the night in jail, but instead drove Eddie home in the back of his cop car. He got the talking-to of a century then, from Jim and from you — ‘cause apparently some guy flirting with you isn’t grounds for ‘assault.’ Eddie still thinks that may be too harsh a word.

He tosses his head back, wild curls slipping from his shoulders, as the counter digs into his hip. “You’re still upset about that?” he whines boyishly, then cowers at the glare you give him. “I mean… I didn’t know you were still upset about that,” he amends, more sympathetically this time.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, you should be the one apologizing to me, Munson,” you tell him, whisking the filling with a bit more aggression than you mean to. “Or better yet, the guy you punched last night—”

“No way.”

“—You almost broke his nose.”

“Oh, please,” Eddie laughs. “He was just being a baby about it.”

“He wasn’t even doing anything to deserve it!”

“He was bothering you!”

“He was talking to me!” you shout, much harsher than he’s used to. Your eyes glitter despite the way they’ve hardened as they dart back and forth between his darker ones. “And if I can’t have a conversation with some stupid guy without you flying off the handle, then I can’t imagine what you’ll do when some idiot buys me a drink.”

Eddie softens immediately. He didn’t know you felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, gravitating towards you with unsure steps and reaching for you with a hesitant hand. When you don’t pull away from his touch, he embraces you from behind — arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting on your belly, chin bobbing on your shoulder. “Though, I’m pretty sure that’s not what you wanna hear from me right now. ‘Cause I told you I was sorry ’til I was blue in the face last night, and you still made me sleep on the couch, so…”

You can hear the crooked smile in his softly spoken words.

You fight hard to bite back your own.

“Well, maybe I’m tired of hearing how sorry you are. Maybe I just want you to prove it.” You set the bowl on the counter and skim your pointer finger over the freshly mixed concoction. “Here, open—”

His pink mouth parts. You slide your finger over the soft pad of his tongue, giving him a proper taste of the filling now that it’s finished. Eddie hums at the bittersweet taste — the sickly sugar sufficiently balanced with sea salt. He nods in wordless approval while you lick the remnants from your own finger.

“You know what would taste better, though?” he wonders aloud once he’s swallowed it down, tone dripping in mischief as his tongue darts across his lip.

Your eyes narrow. “Eddie…” you deadpan in a preemptive scold.

The boy only smirks as he coaxes you against the counter with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You grip the granite edge as he descends to his knees before you, his chocolate-eyed gaze never once wavering from yours. 

“You want me to prove it to you, right?” he asks, bruised knuckles lifting the hem of your shirt. “How sorry I am?”

You nod silently, ‘cause you couldn’t muster a cheeky quip right now if you wanted to.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Eddie tells you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your thigh. You bite back a shiver when his wild curls brush the insides of them. Chills pebble faintly over the skin there, and he smiles. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, punctuated this time by a kiss to the bow of your underwear.

Your breath catches when his pointer finger dips beneath the panty line. His rings brush your burning skin as he slides the fabric to the side. Eddie smirks when he catches your unwavering gaze, as glassy as the sparkling skin of your wet pussy. You can act all mean when you want to, but your body can never pretend with him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, just before licking a fat stripe up the length of your cunt.

Your lips fall softly agape at the warm, satin feeling of his mouth pressed against the most sensitive parts of you. Your head tilts back as your airy moan fills the silent kitchen. The pie you were making is now long forgotten. You’re much sweeter in comparison, anyway.

[nyctoaerah]

yandere satosugu x female reader? can you do jealousy headcanons (like what makes them jealous and/or what they do when they get jealous)? sorry if that wasn’t specific enough!

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere behavior (duh) murder, possessiveness, gore. (Ooc maybe) satoru being an oa little shit. Poly relationship.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Satosugu x Fem! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: WHAHAHA i didn’t knew if you wanted it to be separate or not anon, you said satosugu so i immediately assumed that it was a threesome. But heree, some hc’s:33 sorry pookie, i got lazy on suguru’s part:< SJAKEKSKA i did this first cause hc’s are the easiest to write💀💀💀

Masterlist

🔪Satoru struggles with pervasive jealousy issues, particularly when it comes to you and Suguru.

🔪This dude is like the embodiment of jealousy. he’s so envious he’s practically green with it. Hell he’s even jealous of himself. There was this one time he bet he could pull off dressing up as a girl for a dare, and oh boy, did he go all out. But then he got all pouty when you gushed all over him and got all touchy, something that you don’t really do often. And his reason of getting jealous with himself? He thought that you prefer him as a girl, like hello? you were supposed to prefer the original satoru and not his genderbent!

🔪But seriously, this guy’s jealousy knows no bounds. If Suguru flashes a flirty grin at someone else, bam, jealousy strikes. And if you dare compliment another soul? Jealousy overload. You hugged another man that isn’t suguru? He’s trying to force himself not to throw hands. This dude craves all the attention, all the affection, like a toddler hoarding toys in a playgroup. He’s aware he’s selfish, probably knows it’s not the best look, but he’s powerless against the possessiveness that overtakes him when it comes to you and Suguru. You both have this unique power to bring out the best and worst in him, after all, you two were the only one who sees him as “Satoru” and not as the “Strongest.”

🔪Satoru’s neurotic tendencies and jealousy issues stemmed from his messed-up childhood. The poor guy got stripped of his carefree youth and was thrust into the adult world way before his time after all. the jealousy bug bit him hard when he saw other kids having the time of their lives, while he was stuck with grown-ups fawning over him and expecting way too much and pressuring him. That childhood envy stuck to him like glue, and it grew into a full-blown mess when you, him, and Suguru became an item.

🔪The thing that grinds Satoru’s gears the most and the absolute worst, is when you and Suguru says something about other people’s eyes like; “Their eyes is so pretty” Blah, blah, blah, bullshit like that. It kills him inside that you don’t shower the same love on his eyes. His eyes are prettier, more powerful, and literally very unique, and you hardly ever mention how beautiful it is.

🔪Satoru absolutely loathes it when you’re completely oblivious to someone flirting with you. He’ll shoot menacing glares at the culprit when you’re not paying attention, as if daring them to keep it up, and he would end up threatening them.

🔪Satoru doesn’t bother in hiding his emotions, he’ll whimper, pout, and stick to you and Suguru like glue. And would play the melodramatic card, guilt tripping you. Or he’ll just straight up threaten you or tell suguru about how naughty you are.

🔪🔪🔪

Satoru’s head rested delicately upon your lap as your dexterous fingers ran through his snow white tresses. He gazed at you upward, sky blue eyes peeking from beneath his snowy eyelashes.

“Can you give me your phone for a minute baby? I just wanna do something”

Without pause for consideration, you obliged his request and gave the phone into his outstretched hand.

“Yeah, sure, here.” You responded with a hum.

“What are you gonna do with it, anyways?” You questioned, before your eyes widened as you saw how satoru’s digits hastened across the interface, focused intently on blocking specific contacts from further reaching your line.

“Huh, ‘Toru, what the hell?”

“Wait—why are you blocking them? Those are my—” Your words faded as Satoru lifted his head from your lap and moves away from you, his piercing gaze fixed on yours as he gently grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“Why do you always insist on conversing with them, hmm? Do you like them?”

“What— no! It’s not like that, what the fuck?”

“If you really love me and Suguru, then you have to sever ties with that girl/guy and keep your distance, okay?”

🔪Suguru really isn’t the jealous type, because he’s all about trust and loyalty when it comes to you and Satoru—He trusts you two.

🔪But, every now and then, a feeling of jealousy creep up inside him when he sees you and Satoru hanging out and having fun without him. He tries to brush it off though, understanding that you two are really close. He just wants to see his pretty lovers smiling, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

🔪When Suguru starts feeling jealous, it’s not a pretty sight. Beneath that kind and laid-back exterior lies a man who doesn’t really forgive that much. Suguru doesn’t forgive, and he doesn’t forget.

🔪Suguru may be a master at concealing his jealousy, but when it does surface, it’s like a storm crashing down. Picture this: you innocently text someone he’s really jealous of, and before you know it, your phone is pulled from your hands and tossed across the room while he summons a cursed spirit to destroy it completely, only to be replaced with a brand-new one moments later. Oh, and that person you were casually chatting with? It’s either you can consider them ghosted or consider them dead.

🔪Mentioning your ex around him was a big no-no. Because it immediately triggers him. can’t you just keep the spotlight on him and Satoru? One tiny mention of your ex’s name or Satoru reminiscing about his past flings, and Suguru’s mood immediately becomes sour.

🔪In stark comparison to Satoru, Suguru remains nonchalant about compliments being thrown around. He’s all for lifting people up until those compliments take a flirtatious turn. If that line is crossed, however, his cursed spirits will have its new meal.

🔪If Suguru was jealous and it led to an argument between you two, he would turn on his ultimate weapon—the silent treatment. He’d nonchalantly start hanging out with other people, making sure you noticed just to annoy you and make you jealous. He was well aware of his petty tendencies, but deep down, he simply wished for you to drop the bratty act and apologize.

🔪If you don’t really apologize and just pushed him over the edge... Well, you’ll have to say goodbye to your sanity because suguru is brutal as fuck when it comes to giving punishment.

🔪Unlike Satoru, who would guilt trip and manipulate you, Suguru would take it up a notch on the intensity scale. He wouldn’t shy away from using violence after all. And that doesn’t only apply to the person that he’s envious of, that applies to you too, and satoru. But that’s the difference, Satoru is a good boy, and you’re not.

🔪Suguru would be more than glad to kill someone in front of you and force you to watch it after all. He’ll hurt you too if you thrash and scream instead of being a good girl.

And you can’t really escape the both of them, after all, their love is like a noose.♡

🔪🔪🔪

Suguru’s hand forcefully clamped over your quivering lips, stifling any cries that tried to escape. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh with an iron grip, rendering you immobile. The metallic tang of blood invaded your nostrils. Your eyes were wide with terror, pupils shrinking, and your pulse quickening. A sickening view of gore played out before your horrified gaze, crimson splattering the walls, each nauseating squelch echoing through the room.

“I told you to stay away from them and you didn’t listen...” Suguru whispers, his breath hot against your neck, his delicate mouth parting to suck hard upon your pulsing skin, his mouth works its way slowly along your skin. And you shudder involuntarily beneath his touch, fear coursing through you as his lips close around a patch of flesh, sucking hard.

“See...? This is what happens when you disobey.”

The sharp prick of his teeth sends bolts of pain ricocheting through your body. Your already unsettled stomach lurches violently at the sight that greets you as you raise your head, struggling against his grip.

Before you, bound fast to a wooden chair, was the friend you had jokingly flirted with. Tears stream unchecked down their pallid cheeks, mingling with traces of dried blood, as their cries continue to ring in your ears.

Every limb was callously severed, Their bones was protruding out—the metacarpal bones, the carpal bones, the humerus, the ulna, the fibula, and other bones,  Their arms and legs are covered in long, vivid scarlet lines that are three inches wide, intersecting each other in a crisscross pattern and the wounds appear to have breached the surface of their skin, While suguru’s cursed spirits feeds on their severed flesh.

With a low, self-satisfied hum, Satoru drags the tip of the scalpel upwards your friend’s cheek, cutting them and the skin opens, revealing their inner facial muscle. He then reaches out to grasp a fistful of your friend’s hair, yanking their head back sharply to force clouded eyes up to meet your own.

“Suguruuuu, what do i do next? Do we gouge their eyes out for looking at our pretty girl that way?” 

“Do it. She said that she likes their eyes anyways... She’s probably implying that she prefers their eyes over yours.” Suguru smirks, humming as he pressed his body against yours, enjoying the way satoru’s face suddenly fell.

“Haah... Looks like i’ll be enjoying gouging their eyes then.”

[archangeldyke-all]

imagine isha doing that thing that mute kids sometimes do, where they suddenly say a word/sentence or two out loud n then go back to being completely mute for a few years. imagine you’re tucking her in like “ily isha, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” and she goes “ok. goodnight. mac & cheese.” and you never hear her talk again

also i love your writing 🩷🩷

this is so fucking funny god

men and minors dni

jinx has always claimed that isha speaks to her on occasion. you and sevika are always skeptical. a lot of isha's squeaks can sound like words-- and jinx tends to hear voices that aren't really there more than most people.

it takes a year of living together before one of you catches it in person.

sevika runs into the kitchen so fast she almost knocks over a chair. "babe, babe!" she says with a giddy smile. you giggle.

"what?"

"isha-- she just talked!" sevika laughs. "she doesn't know i heard her-- she was puttin' her socks on and her toe popped out of a hole, and she went; 'awe fuck!'" sevika imitates.

you burst into laughter. "are you sure?! you didn't just mishear one of her little grunts?"

"babe, i know what i heard. i read about this, y'know. sometimes, mute kids just randomly talk. and jinx said she's heard it before! i guess... i guess she really liked those socks!" sevika cackles. "you shoulda heard her little voice cursin' baby, oh my god!" sevika can't stop laughing.

for a long time, you don't quite believe her story. you're sure your wife thought she heard your kid curse, but you aren't convinced that isha can talk at all.

until she talks to you.

almost two years after sevika claims she hears isha talk, you're tucking her into bed like any other night. isha's pointing out various poisonous frog species to you in her favorite 'dangerous animals' book, and you're playing with her hair, kissing her head occasionally.

"if i was a poision dart frog, i think i'd be pink and purple. what about you?"

isha taps her chin while she considers your question, then signs with a smile. blue and yellow! you laugh. of course she'd pick her favorite colors.

"nice. what do you think jinx and big mama would be?"

jinxie is blue and purple and big mama is green!

"you've got it all figured out, huh?"

isha nods with a yawn. you chuckle.

"alright-- i think it's bedtime. c'mon, get comfy." isha hands her book to you and crawls under her covers. when she settles, she scrunches her face just a bit and lets out a fart. you giggle. "got your dutch oven going, huh?" you ask. she laughs.

"do frogs fart?" isha asks.

you freeze, staring at isha as she blinks up at you with big eyes, waiting for an answer. "wh-- did you--"

do they? she signs.

you burst into laughter and pull isha into your arms. "i have no idea!" you laugh. "oh my god!" isha giggles in your arms, confused by your reaction but enjoying the barrage of kisses you're giving her regardless. "i love you so much you silly little girl."

isha gets sick of your cuddles, elbowing you and signing. look it up on your phone! she whines. you cackle.

"okay, okay!" you laugh as you pull out your phone to google isha's question.

sevika and jinx are never going to believe this.

or... maybe they will.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

[pucksandpower]

Welcome to Miami

Lando Norris x Messi!Reader

Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months

Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy

Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with

You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.

Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.

The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.

Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.

You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.

As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.

You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.

When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.

But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.

When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.

Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.

The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.

How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?

A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.

Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.

God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.

No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.

You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.

But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?

***

You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.

How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.

The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.

You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”

Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.

His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.

You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”

To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”

You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”

A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.

It all fits.

“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.

Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”

There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.

“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.

But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.

“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.

Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.

You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”

You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.

“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.

Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.

“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.

You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.

No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.

***

Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”

“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.

“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.

“This is Lionel Messi.”

Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.

“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.

Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”

Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.

There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.

Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.

He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...

Oh shit.

“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”

Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!

“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.

Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”

The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”

“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”

There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.

Leo Messi’s daughter.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?

His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.

Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?

Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.

The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.

When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.

***

The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.

He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?

A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.

Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”

The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.

The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.

Get it together, man. This is it.

All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.

Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.

Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t like you.”

The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.

“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.

The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.

You.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.

He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”

“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.

An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.

“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”

The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.

“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”

He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.

His kid.

You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”

The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.

“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”

The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.

Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.

“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”

With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.

You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”

Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.

An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.

Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”

Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”

Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”

Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”

You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.

“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.

“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.

Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.

You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.

“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”

You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”

“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.

Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.

***

Ten Months Later

The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.

“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”

Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”

“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”

“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”

Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.

“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.

You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”

Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.

“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”

“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”

Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”

Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.

“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.

“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”

“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”

“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”

Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.

“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.

You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.

“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”

“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”

The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”

The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.

Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”

Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”

With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.

“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”

That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”

You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.

“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”

“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.

The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.

“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.

Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”

You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”

The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”

With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.

Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.

“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”

You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”

Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.

As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.

So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.

[merakiui]

I know you love pathetic Azul.... So from his newest card:

There's this absolute nerd in your school. Glasses, reclusive, in the chess club, always complains to mommy and daddy when others are mean to him. You loose a bet and your friends put you up to asking him out on a date where you have to get him off at least once. Little do you know he's had a crush on you for the longest time and he almost chokes on his tounge saying "yes" to you.

He takes you to his parents resturaunt and pays for your (admittedly delicious) meal. You drive him to a secluded area and get down to businuss.

"Alright, take em off."

You roll your eyes as he fumbles around only for them to bug out of your head when you see what he's packing. One thing leads to another and your in the back of the car covered in cum but still going at it.

Between breaths he asks you if he's doing this right? Does this feel good? And tells you how long he's had a crush and how happy he is to have a girlfriend now... You're too fucked stupid to even care.

Pathetic Azul……. orz

OOOO THAT IS SO YUM!!!! And so mean. >:) Azul only getting asked out on a date because (unknowingly to him) you lost a bet with friends and now this is your punishment. But in his mind he’s just so excited to be noticed by his crush and even asked out!!!! He used to dream about moments just like this.

Of course he’s nervous and wants to impress you, so he dresses up for the occasion. A formal suit that makes you think he’s taking this too seriously because this isn’t a wedding! He even styled his hair! Even more so when he brings you to his parents’ very nice, very five-star restaurant and insists on paying for everything (because you only have the funds for low-budget fast food dates, which was what you were initially expecting until his directions led you to this amazing restaurant, but he’s just being polite). His mother is your personal server for the evening because she’s just so thrilled her baby Zuzu is finally bringing (more than) a friend to the restaurant, and it’s obvious he’s embarrassed with her fawning. You just smile, thinking it’s cute that he’s so flustered. Maybe getting him off will be easier than you thought.

You have to put in some sort of effort because it’s all useless if he doesn’t cum at least once later tonight, so you’ll listen to everything he’s saying, ask him questions about himself, take pictures with him to prove to your friends you’re actually doing it, etc etc. maybe he’s that trope of “secretly handsome beneath his glasses.” You’ll find that out later in the car when you remove them and find the prettiest blue eyes peering back at you. :)

Azul who can’t stop fidgeting with his hands in the passenger seat as you drive somewhere secluded after a very delicious and enjoyable dinner. He had so many questions to ask you, but he didn’t want to come off so strong or weird. He just wants to know you better. :< he’s certain these things only happen in movies because his shock is very visible when you’re parking the car and telling him to undress. He didn’t want to pressure you or come off as too forward by asking for something like this, but it seems you were on the same page after all!! He’s never done anything like this before, so he’s hurrying to slide his trousers down and ooohhhh the way you have to stop yourself from drooling over his delicious dick print. T_T

You can’t tease him through his boxers because he’ll cum, and a blowjob will probably last at most half a minute because you know this guy has never felt the warmth of another before. Your plan was to give him a blowjob and be done with it,, maybe work him up a little with teasing words, but now you’re in the back of the car and it’s rocking slightly from the lewd movements happening inside. You can’t get over how perfectly his dick fills you, and neither can he apparently LOL. Because he keeps babbling on and on about, “I’m inside you… I’m actually—this is real. I’m really… you’re really… we’re having sex. Raw sex…!”

All you can manage are sweet, little gasps and pants because he’s hitting that spot deep inside you and it’s melting all your other thoughts, and so of course he’s doing a good job with his mindless thrusting. You’d call him a good boy and wring yet another orgasm out of him if you could—if you weren’t fucked so boneless. >_< you don’t even have the energy to really protest when he confesses mid-fuck, rambling about how this is his happiest moment ever because he has a girlfriend for the first time in his life and he’s always loved you ever since he saw you and you helped pick up his books when the bullies would shove him to the floor. He wants to marry you and share his life with you. It’s a bit much, but who cares? You’re getting the best fuck ever from some virgin chess club nerd.

You’re not showing your friends the filthy photos of you half-naked and covered in his cum. They’re just going to have to believe your rendition of events: he came down your throat and that was it. But they can tell a lot more than that happened because since when was that loser nerd your boyfriend? >:)

[e-therealife]

Either way, We're not Alone

warnings: a bit of touching, so slightly nsfw, mention of guns (not actually any guns), mention of slut-shaming to nat pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader [romantic] description: before nationals, you take a moment to hold onto what you have with your girlfriend. tags: fluff, bittersweet, coming of age, pre-crash, foreshadowing the crash and wilderness

Hidden behind some trees that border the trailer park, you and Nat are lying on a blanket, trying to see stars through the light pollution. Nat's lips are messily dyed purple, a mixture made from a red, white, and blue popsicle bought from the ice cream truck she tracked down.

After a final suck to clean the stick off, she holds it out and reads the joke printed on it. "What can you steal and not get in trouble?"

You furrow your brows, thinking. "Um… I don't know. What?"

Nat grins. "Second base."

"What? Can't you steal the other bases, too?"

She laughs, placing the stick into the takeout bag filled with wrappers of food you'd gotten earlier. “I don't think this is just about baseball.”

You roll your eyes, but still smile. "These are for kids, though."

"We bought 'em."

"Yeah. We did." Your tone falls, Nat's words making everything feel more real. You weren't kids anymore. You never would be again.

Nat's playful grin falls, her expression becoming understanding. Mournful.

She presses a kiss to the top of your head, then slips her hand into yours, interlacing your fingers. Nat gives your hand a squeeze, which you return. She relaxes her hand slightly after a moment, but still keeps a firm grip. It's comforting, the way she's so focused on you.

You look back up to the sky, squinting at the darkness. There's some distant conversation you can hear, which you assume is being held around the bonfire you're smelling, and the warm air is filled with the chirps and hums of bugs around you.

"There." You outstretch your arm, index finger pointing to a small, flickering white light.

Nat squints at the glimmer, catching it slightly moving. "Plane," she corrects.

You drop your arm, clicking your tongue in disappointment. "We'd have an easier time seeing lights from New York than stars here."

Nat sighs. "Yeah, we would." She sounds upset. Nat wasn't necessarily one for nature. She was certainly caring toward it—you've seen her stumble drunkenly to help some baby birds whose nest had fallen, and she'd stop to pick up litter. But she wasn't the type to go for a hike or eat organically. Late nights of cigarettes and gas station snacks were much more her thing.

What wasn't her thing was the incoming unknown for you both. Despite the way she constantly cursed how shitty Wiskayok was, on the verge of everything changing, she'd developed some weird appreciation and begun to wish for more of the same. Nat had never really gotten to be a kid, but now, she's feeling like she's about to lose her chance. So, tonight, she's trying to enjoy this moment, looking up at a sky that never really seemed to watch over her and attempting to appreciate it.

Next week, you'll play your last game before Nationals. Soon after, you'll both graduate. Maybe you should be excited, but it just feels bittersweet. You can't help but think there's some impending doom awaiting you, and the upcoming weeks are a last hurrah.

The burden of more responsibilities and leaving this period of your life behind was weighing on you before it even became a reality. Bills, work... less time for this.

You know Nat feels the same. She's spent her life thinking she would never make it this far. Despite all she's gotten through, it's hard for her to believe she'll be able to handle what's coming, whatever that may be.

After a moment, Nat continues, "We should go somewhere with a better view sometime."

A trip would mean more moments like this, where you both can forget about meaningless responsibilities and just focus on one another, on actually living.

You turn your head to her to agree, but before you can, a loud sound cracking through the air interrupts you. You jump in surprise, ending up pressed against Nat's arm.

She smiles fondly, releasing your hand to pull you into her. She wraps her arms around you, one hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly. "It's okay. Just a firework," she tells you. Nat never liked to see you scared or hurt, but she did like knowing you were comfortable showing some vulnerability to her. She liked feeling like this—needed, or at least wanted.

You knew it wasn't a gun—you heard people fucking around with both guns and fireworks by Nat's trailer enough to know the difference easily. Didn't mean you weren't surprised by the sound. Didn't mean you were making any move to leave Nat's side, either.

Given Nat wasn't pulling you up to get away, like last Summer when someone had almost started a wildfire from a firework here, you trusted you were far enough away to relax.

You look back up to the sky, seeing the remnants of some bright red and orange fireworks. They look like flickers of flame. Then, you hear a fizzing sound, those champagne-colored fireworks that spin in the sky bursting and raining down.

"I wish things could stay like this forever," Nat murmurs. It's so quiet and low in her chest you barely hear it. Her words seem ironic, especially in this moment. You're lying on the bumpy ground, lathered in bug spray and sunblock you forced Nat to put on earlier. The bug spray made you both smell of bitter chemicals while the sunblock still felt a bit oily on your skin. A few hours ago, you both had to swat flies away from your food, and someone had yelled "slut" out their car to Nat when you were walking back to the trailer park.

Things were far from what Nat would usually consider perfect, both in this moment and in Wiskayok, and Nat seemed like the type of person who'd love nothing more than to get the hell out of here.

But she doesn't need anything else. Whatever she has to deal with is worth it, because she could never get bored of moments like this, with you. You felt the same way about her.

So, you agree. "Me too."

"We'll stay together," Nat says. You can tell her words are meant to be confident and sure, but you hear the weakness in her voice, that part of her that's afraid of being abandoned. "Then, it'll be the same. We can always feel like this."

Being around Nat always made life feel like each moment held you in some snow globe or film reel. Somehow, with her around, it was as if things were more just. Like you were truly important. Maybe the world didn't actually treat you better in those moments, but being around Nat made life feel much more worth living.

You still couldn't help but worry in the back of your mind, would things feel the same in a few months, years, decades?

With Nat, it had to.

So, you respond, "We will. Always."

Nat turns her head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. How could any moment around her—having her—ever not be perfect?

She lets her lips linger for a moment, then just leans her head onto yours. Something about this makes you want to cry, and you think Nat's feeling the same way.

After a while, she pulls you closer, your face now lightly resting on her neck. You lay your arm over her stomach and press yourself into her side. Although you're the one being held, it feels a lot more like she's seeking out comfort from you.

You can still hear fireworks going off, and now, someone's dog is barking. But the sounds seem to be drowned out by her body against yours.

"You cold?" she asks.

She did this a lot, asked how you were. 'You hungry?' 'Tired?' Sometimes, it was, 'You mad at me?' You knew she wasn't asking these things just to win you over. Nat wasn't like that. She cared.

"'M fine." It was true. It was a warm night out, and you could handle the occasional breeze.

Still, Nat gently lifts you off her and slips off her sweater. Then, she pulls you close again and wraps you in it.

"I don't want you to be cold," you protest.

"You're warming me up just fine. Actually, I might be warmer if you got a little closer…"

You laugh. It wasn't possible for you to be much closer unless you laid on top of her. Still, you tangle your legs with hers.

You hear Nat sigh quietly in satisfaction, and you lift your head to peek at her. The corners of her lips are slightly upturned, twitching as she holds back a smile. She knows you're watching her, catching your gaze with blushing cheeks and a laugh. "Stop staring," she tells you, voice a little higher from being flustered.

"Why? You nervous?"

"Shut up."

Relenting, you cuddle back into her. You lay like that for a while, appreciating every area of contact between you two, before telling her, “I love you.” You only had said it to each other a few times before, usually when things were shitty. Now, it's like you're preparing for things to go wrong. It's not a goodbye or an end, though. Somehow, you know Nat is sticking with you. Despite how hard life made it to believe, you felt like you were bound to her. 

You make sure your words come out clear and strong so she knows exactly what you said. So she knows you're sticking with her, too.

"I love you," she replies. She squeezes you a bit, then adds, "More than anything, y'know." It's somewhat of a question, her making sure she was doing "enough" again.

“I know. I feel the same way about you.” You press a light kiss to her neck, and you notice the way she shivers slightly from the contact.

Then, Nat's shifting, moving out from under you gently before leaning over you. Right after she's close enough, she quickly looks over your face, licking her lips before kissing you. It's hurried, but not rough, fully loving in her neediness. You can slightly taste the sugary popsicle she'd eaten earlier.

She runs her hands up your stomach, then to your chest, mapping out your body. Her touch feels familiar; Nat always paid attention to your reactions, figuring out exactly what you liked. Clearly, with how easy this is, the way you both seem to melt into one another, it's paid off.

Tonight, Nat's both trying to memorize you and assure herself that she has you. She doesn't have to do this. She's touched you like this many times before, and you've never done anything to make it seem like you'd leave. But she's still anxious about what's to come. It's not necessarily about how you might change—she'd always love you—but how she might. Would you still love her?

You hold her by her hips for a moment before moving your hands to the back of her body. Nat's wearing some loose shorts, so you're able to push up the ends of them and run your hands over her ass.

She smiles, pulling away. You see the way the dye on her lips has smeared further, and it's a bit less pigmented. You're guessing there's a little on your lips now, too.

"You trying to steal third base?" she teases.

You roll your eyes, laughing. "I mean, I want to. You want me to?"

She moves her lips to your neck, sucking on the skin. You tilt your head to give her more room, and she runs her tongue along your neck before peppering a few soft kisses, her lips wet. She pulls back to say, “Keep going. I want you to."

author's note: hi guys! hope you like this. it took me forever to edit for some reason. also, joke inspired by a real popsicle stick. thanks for reading!

[motorsportbarbie13]

Forbidden - Part 6

In which Maxie shows you just how much he missed you.

Warnings: smuttttttttty ;) minors DNI pls. Swearing. umm...that's it? idk, I'm terrible with warnings, let me know if I'm forgetting something. Quick note: Almost there love bugs! I think we'll have one more after this and then maybe an epilogue. I almost don't want this one to enddddddd wah. Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!reader Word Count: 3k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Master List

“I have something for you.” Max rasps the moment you’re in his arms again behind the closed door of his hotel room. 

Nerves have his hands shaking as they fist handfuls of your black cotton t-shirt. The entire ride up to the 10th floor of the hotel, he had been having an internal battle with himself. He couldn’t believe you were here, slotted back into his life after weeks apart and he didn’t want to do something to scare you off again but…

“You do?” You give him a puzzled look. What on earth could he possibly have for you, he didn’t know you were coming. 

Max nods, releasing you for the first time since he took you into his arms in the lobby. “I got it weeks ago…I’ve been carrying it with me ever since…” He pauses, gaze darting away for just a moment, “that day, just in case you came back to me when I wasn’t expecting it. I wanted to be prepared.” He rubs at the back of his neck, eyes dropping from yours to the floor. Your insides melt at his sudden tender shyness. 

You smile over at Max, who’s begun digging in his navy and yellow Red Bull Racing backpack. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Maxie.” 

He nods, a soft sound of satisfaction playing on his lips when he finds what he’s bene looking for. “I know.” He says, turning around to face you. 

Your stomach drops to your toes when you see the baby blue bag dangling from his finger tips. “Maxie.” His name is a warning, your heart thumping against your rib cage. 

“It’s not a ring, schatje.” He says on a chuckle, taking a baby blue box tied with a white satin ribbon out of the bag when you make no moves to take it out of his hands. “Not yet anyway.” 

There goes your stomach back down to your toes again. 

When you’ve composed yourself, you reach out to take the box from Max. “I was going to give it to you the day Charles found out about us but obviously that never happened. It’s just something small, to remind you of me when we can’t be together.” 

Trembling fingers tug at the ribbon as your eyes dart up to Max’s anxious face and then back down to the box. Nestled in the box is a delicate gold chain with 2 pendants on it: a block M and a block V, both with 3 tiny diamonds inlaid on the edge of each letter. “Max.” You whisper, tears pricking at the back of your eyes once again. 

Max’s hands wring together in front of you, his face still anxious despite the smile spreading across your face. You look up at him, chest squeezing tightly. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.” 

“You like it?” 

“I love it.” You coo, lifting the chain up out of the box before holding it out to him. “Will you put it on me?” 

Spinning, you capture your hair up in one hand while waiting patiently for Max to get his shaking hands under control. The cool chain sends a shiver skittering down your spine, a small sigh escaping your lips at the feeling of Max’s strong fingers brushing against your skin. 

When the necklace is secured, you turn back around to wrap your arms around his neck, lips dusting first over his jaw before working your way up to his lips. Those lips you’ve missed so much the last few weeks. You couldn’t believe how stupid you had been to push him away when he so obviously wanted to be there for you, wanted to support you. Regret has your cheeks heating, shame budding in your stomach. 

Max must sense the shift in your mood because he pulls away before looking down at you, brows knit together. “What’s wrong, schatje?” 

You shake your head, unable to get the words out. 

“Please tell me.” He begs. 

“I just…” A cry lodges in your throat and your unable to speak around it for a moment. 

Max leads you over to the love seat on the other side of the room, needing to solve this sudden problem before anything else. He sits first before pulling you into his lap, cradling you against his chest. His lips find his favorite place on you, that spot in the crook of your neck where your perfume lingers for hours. “Talk to me, baby.” 

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have. You wanted to help, you did nothing but help and I still threw you out.” For what feels like the millionth time that day, tears slip down your cheeks in a steady stream but Max’s lips are there to kiss them away. 

“No, sweet girl. No apologies.” His voice is soft, soothing. “You were doing what you thought you needed to do at the time, I could never fault you for that. I’m just glad you came back to me.” 

“I love you, Maxie.” You murmur, face buried in his hair as he continues to nibble at your neck. 

Max has never heard sweeter words, not even when Christian told him he had won the championship for the first time. “I love you too, liefje.” He pulls away from your neck then, causing you to whimper a bit in protest, but he needed to see your face for what he was about to say next. “I was planning on asking you to be my girlfriend that night too, which I kind of fucked up but I hope that’s still on the table for us. I want to go public. No more secrets, no more lies. I want you next to me in the paddock, in my garage during races, wearing my colors and my number. All in, everything. I need that with you.” 

There’s a look of unbridled desire on Max’s face, like he’s been waiting for this very moment for months now and he’s finally worked up the courage to put words to his feelings. Your hands come up to frame his face, delicate fingers scratching his scruffy face gently. “Bien sur, mon amor.” Of course, my love. “I’ve been yours since the first time we kissed.” 

Max covers your lips in a kiss then, fingers digging into your hips in a desperate attempt to bring you closer to him. He’d gone too long without being able to touch you and he wants to make up for all the time lost. With one swift movement, Max lifts you up out of his lap and carries you across the room to his bed. The way he sets you down on the crisp white hotel duvet has your heart squeezing. 

“I missed you so much, liefje.” Max’s voice drops an octave, husky and full of need. “Let me show you how much.” 

“Sil vous plait.” Please You breathe.

Shaking hands slip up underneath the hem of your cream linen dress, the rough pads of his fingers drawing out a moan from your lips as they skim over the creamy soft skin of your thighs. They find their home underneath the layer of lace that is already halfway ruined from the slick mess that’s been gathering there since Max got you alone. 

“God, you are exquisite.” He murmurs as he brings his lips to cover yours in a searing kiss that is all tender promises and whispered apologies. 

His fingers swipe past your clit, not quite giving you the pressure and friction you crave, but just enough to make you needy. There’s plenty of time for that though and Max wants to make sure this is as drawn out as possible. He has so much to say with his mouth and hands to you tonight and he wants everything to inch by in a slow, heated drip of steady pleasure. 

Needing to be closer to him and wanting out of the suddenly restricting fabric, you sit up momentarily, unbuttoning the dress as quickly as humanly possible. Max helps, starting at the bottom of the dress and you instantly miss his touch on you. Neither of you are willing to break the kiss, so it’s a little fumbled and a lot messy as you attempt to get yourself out of the clothes you flew here in. 

“Need to see you wearing nothing but my necklace.” He pants.

While you’re busy unbuttoning the dress, Max reaches behind his back to pull his team polo off. You hum in appreciation, reaching out to drag your slender fingers over the bumps and ridges of his stomach. A thrill shoots though you when he shivers at your touch, heated gaze pinning you to the bed.

Slowly guiding you down onto your back, Max drapes himself over your body, fitting his thigh between your legs. Your skin heats as you run your hands through his hair, guiding his mouth down the column of your neck. His mouth stalls, taking his time to nip and suck at the fragile skin there. Max barely resists the urge to suck a love bite onto your neck, knowing that you would murder him if he did that before tomorrow’s race. There will be time for that, he reminds himself. There will be time for him to mark you as his own in places that others will see. For now, he’ll settle for marking you in places that are only for him. 

He drags a heated, wet line with his tongue from your neck, stopping once again to lap against your collar bone and the hollow of your throat. His mouth sucks at the racing pulse point there, a thrill shooting straight to his already hard cock at how fast your heart is beating because of him. 

“Max.” You whine, grinding your hips up into his muscled thigh that sits slotted between your legs, desperate for friction and relief from the pounding pulse between your legs. “God I missed your hands on me. Your touch. Everything.” You probably should be embarrassed with how needy and breathless your plea comes out, but shame has been left at the door for tonight. All you need are Max’s hands on you and his cock in you, and you swear you’d be content for the rest of your entire existence. 

Max grips at the flesh of your hips, desperate to get any sort of purchase on your body. His mouth continues it’s perusal of your now slick skin and when he covers one already achingly hard nipple, you can’t help the cry that leaves your lips. His tongue flicks over the pebbled bit of flesh before nipping at it with the very tips of his teeth. Your hips snap up off the bed, bumping his hips with your own at the feeling that boarders somewhere between earth shattering pleasure and mind numbing pain. 

Fingers get lost in his hair as Max moves to pay attention to the other nipple, equally as hard and needy for his tongue. The sounds of near purring that rumble at the back of your throat send Max into orbit as he rocks his painfully hard cock into the soft mattress beneath him. “Taste so good.” He slurs against your body, hands raking up your legs once again finding themselves buried in your dripping pussy. 

It’s too much. Much too much. The overstimulation of his mouth and hands all over you has you puddled in a whimpering, sodden mess under this man that is supposed to be all wrong for you. 

“I love you like this.” His voice is husky, dragging itself across your skin like the fingers that are currently buried deep inside you. “All messy and needy, all for me. Only for me.” A possessive streak shoots through Max, suddenly needing you to know that this is only for him. You’re his. You will always be his. He nearly lost you once and he’ll never run the risk of losing you ever again. 

“Only for you.” You confirm, hips grinding deep against the thick fingers that are coaxing you to what you can only predict will be a syrupy sweet release. “Only for you from now on. God, Max your touch…so good.” The ability to form coherent sentences seems to have escaped you. 

Your head thrashes to the side, the vulnerability of being so open for him in so many ways is overwhelming. Being so intensely seen by this man above you is almost too much to take. 

“Are you going to come for me, schatje? Come on my fingers, pretty girl. Show me how much you missed me and how much I possess you.” 

The sound of Max’s voice is enough to send you over the edge, that familiar lick of fire building itself up at the base of your spine. You feel it start and so does Max, that familiar sign of your hands grasping for anything they can reach, this time it’s his back. He’ll gladly be marked up with red welts and scratches if it means he gets you beneath him like this every fucking night for the rest of his life. Your climax rips through you, stealing your breath for a quick moment before you come, Max’s name tumbling from your lips over and over like a reverent prayer. 

“That’s it, love. So good, you’re so good for me. Such a pretty girl giving me exactly what I want. God, how did I get so fucking lucky? Why did I wait so long?” 

Max talks you through the rest of your orgasm, shockwaves of pleasure lancing through you for so long you start to lose track of time. It could be 5 minutes or 5 hours, but eventually, you’re back down to earth, feeling so languid and soft you don’t think you could move even if your life depended on it. 

“Max.” You breath, pulling at his shoulders to get his head level with yours so you can get your mouth on him again. You lick into his mouth, teeth bumping against him in a desperate messy kiss that promises everything under the stars. 

“What do you need, schatje? Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” 

“I need you inside me. I need to be stuffed full of you so I never forget what you feel like ever again.” 

Before you’re able to even take another breath, Max’s jeans and boxers have joined the heap of clothing on the floor and the head of his dick, red and angry and dripping for you already, is notched against your waiting pussy. When he sinks into you, filling you up so deliciously, it feels like your first night together all over again. You’re overwhelmed by the size of him, the feel of him deep inside you, filling you up beyond words. 

For several moments, neither of you move. Max holds himself steady above you writhing form, already buried in you to the hilt, refusing to move until he knows you’re okay. A series of quick nods tells him you’re fine and slowly, so very slowly you almost can’t feel it, Max begins to move. It’s slow at first, as he tries to draw out the pleasure from your body like he’s playing a stringed instrument. Long, silky movements from his achingly hard cock seem to war with each other, the contrast between the rhythm and his dick send delightful shimmers of energy up and down your skin. 

Max can barely catch his breath, not fully understanding how you can be so soft and warm and breathtakingly tight all at the same time. The feeling of being buried in you might just be the best thing he’s ever experienced. He could probably spend the rest of his life worshipping your body like this and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his craving of your body. He gazes down at you, the look of reverence on his face has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, as he continues to push in and out of you. One moment he’s nearly fully out of your slick wetness and the next, he’s plunging back in, taking fully from you what he knows is his now. 

“Come inside me Max. Fill me up, please.” Your desperate words are enough to have Max’s hips snapping harshly against your body over and over. His tight hold of control he usually has over his body slowly breaking underneath your spell. 

“My pretty girl needs me to fill her, huh? Need the cum leaking out of you, down that pretty thigh of yours, to remind you who you belong to?” 

All you can do is nod, your entire consciousness consumed with him, the way he feels, the smell of his cologne that lingers on his skin that mixes with his sweat, creating a dizzyingly pleasurable mix of something you’ll never forget. 

Max feels that familiar painful warning sign deep in his stomach. He’s not going to last much longer and by the sounds you’re making beneath him, he knows you’re already there. His mouth latches to yours, stealing the cry from your lips and swallowing it whole. The vice grip those velvet walls snare him in when you come sends him hurtling towards his own release. Max isn’t usually very loud, he loves to talk you through it yes, but when it comes to his own pleasure? He’s quite reserved. But he can’t help the animalistic groan that starts deep in his gut rumbles out of him as he spills into you, white hot streams shooting deep inside you. 

Max collapses on top of you and you relish the feeling of something like a giant weighted blanked settling over your frame. Utterly spent, Max isn’t even able to form a coherent sentence for several moments, instead choosing to focus on the wild racing of your heart beneath his body. 

“Told you I missed you.” Max says, breath tickling the shell of your ear, eliciting a giggle from your swollen lips. 

You rake your hands through his hair for what feels like the fiftieth time that night, tugging gently as you comb through the blond locks. “I missed you too, mon coeur.” 

That’s what Max was too. Your entire heart. 

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Runaway

Cowboy Roman x Black oc

Angst, fluff

Authors note: I kinda challenged myself with this one, it was sitting in my drafts for awhile since I was kinda nervous to post this. I don’t usually write like this so if it’s not great, I apologize. I tried😭

The hot sun blazed down over the large land, stretching wide and wild across the countryside. Horses kicked up dust near the wooden fences, cows mooing in the distance, bugs hummed like background music to a life she no longer loved.

Neveah wiped the sweat from her brow as she loaded bags of groceries into the back of her beat-up truck. The baby inside her licked lightly— a soft, sweet reminder of why she kept pushing through. 7 months pregnant, swollen feet, aching back, and still she was doing this alone.

Her husband, Colton, was nowhere to be found— again.

Earlier that morning, she’d asked him to help with the groceries. His answer?

"You ain’t crippled, Neveah. That baby ain’t due yet. You got two hands don’tcha?

She could still hear his voice, thick with that drawl, dripping with indifference. He hadn’t touched her belly since they found out about her being pregnant. No doctor visits. No nursery paint. Not even a damn back rub.

She sighed, exhausted. Closing the truck bed That’s when she saw him.

Roman.

Standing tall in his dark blue jeans and black tank-top by the fence that split their properties, leaning with one thick forearm on the top rail. Cowboy hat over his eyes, long wavy hair tied back in a man bun, tan tattooed arms glistening under the sun, and a familiar glint In his mouth— a toothpick nestled at the corner of his lips like it lived there.

He was trouble. And temptation.

Her husband hated Roman with every bone in his body— ever since Roman bought the neighboring ranch a few years back. No one really knew why it started, maybe it was just that Roman was everything Colton wasn’t. Strong, capable, respected, And kind in a way that made people trust him with their lives.

And maybe, just maybe, Roman gave a little too much of that kindness to her.

"You alright, darlin?" He called out, voice thick and smooth. That toothpick shifting slightly between his teeth as he smirked.

Neveah froze, then managed to give him a tired smile. "Im good. Just hot and pregnant as hell"

Roman chuckled low and slow, the kind of sound that shot down her body. He started walking toward her with a predatory walk, that made her thighs clench and stomach flutter.

"You shouldn’t be haulin bags like that" he said, pulling the toothpick from his mouth to speak clearly, then slipping it right back between his lips like it belonged there. "Where’s that husband of yours?"

She looked away, her cheeks burning. "Where he always is. Drinkin and bitchin about you"

Romans jaw clenched but he didn’t speak right away. He gently stepped in front of her grabbing all the grocery bags at once. He carried every bag into her house without being asked, as she slowly followed behind him, hand on her tummy. He set them carefully on the counter, before turning to her, eyes dark and sincere, that pick twitching again in his mouth as he looked over her with concern.

He stepped closer to her, his figure towering over hers.

"You ever need help… anything at all, you come to me. Don’t matter the time or when. I’m here for you." taking a hold of her hand in his two big ones, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Always."

Neveah swallowed hard, looking up at him through her lashes. "Thank you Roman. Really."

It became a pattern after that.

She’d catch glimpses of him fixing fences, feeding his horses. Muscles bulging with every movement, sweat dripping against his golden-brown skin. That little stick always in his mouth like a signature — he’d twirl it with his tongue while working, chewing it lightly when he was thinking.

He’d always stop by with a cold glass of lemonade whenever she was sitting on the swing bench out on her front porch, fanning herself from the heat. Sometimes she’d find baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables or home-cooked meals left by her door, no note — but she already knew who they were from.

Her husband never noticed. Too busy sleeping off whiskey, yelling at the tv, or complaining about the "damn Samoan next door"

And at night…

Oh, those nights.

After Colton passed out drunk in his recliner, Neveah would slip out the back door in her cotton dress. Her heart pounded as she walked through the field. Roman would already be waiting by the big oak tree behind his barn — lantern lit, blanket laid out, two mugs filled with sweet tea.

Toothpick in place, his back leaning against the tree like he had all the time in the world, his hat tilted back so she could see those brown eyes, that lit up the second she stepped into view.

Their conversations started off slow. Simple things. Weather, crops, horses.

Then they got deeper.

He told her about losing his mom at 13, about the pressure of keeping his family proud while running the ranch alone. She told him about how lonely she felt even with someone sleeping in her bed.

He listened. Really listened. That thin piece of wood would stop moving when he was focused as she expressed her feelings. His mouth twitching every-time their was sadness in her voice.

2 months and this was their routine every evening. Neavah leaned against the tree on the blanket as Romans head was in her lap, loving the was she was running her fingers though his hair, as she spoke.

She suddenly winced sitting up a bit. Roman sat up immediately, concern on his face. "You alright?"

She nodded, letting out a sharp breath. "Yeah, yeah. Just a kick. A strong one"

He reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, and placed his wide hand on her bump.

They waited.

Then — thump.

The baby kicked again, right against his palm.

Romans eyes widened, his lips parting around his toothpick, as a huge smile made its way on his face. He let out a breathy chuckle and looked at her belly in awe.

"Well, Well" he murmured, toothpick twitching. "That little girls got some power in her. You feel that?"

Neveah smiled, her eyes stinging. "She always does that when you’re around" rubbing the back of Romans neck gently as he leaned his head closer to her bump.

Roman looked up at her, something deep and quiet in his expression. His voice dropped low. "She knows who I am."

He leaned down lifting her strawberry tank top, placing a soft kiss on the now exposed skin of her tummy. That toothpick still tucked in between his lips. "Hey little one" he whispered. "Daddy’s here."

Neveah swallowed, her heart thudding. She should’ve thought it was wrong letting another man claiming her baby as the daddy, but it felt right. She felt so safe with him.

Roman rubbed her belly in slow, gentle circles, his thumb brushing over her skin like she was something delicate and divine.

Then he looked at her. Just looked. Long and hard.

The toothpick dipped slightly as he pulled it from his lips.

And then, without a word, he leaned in — slow, deliberate. And kissed her.

She let out a small gasp as their lips touched. It wasn’t rushed. Not lustful. Just deep. Full of emotion, unspoken promises. His left hand stayed on her belly as the right gently gripped the back of her neck, as their mouths met, lips moving together like they waited their whole lives for this moment.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim. A vow.

They pulled apart, slightly out of breath, as he rested his forehead against her’s. Moving her curly hair back behind her ear.

"You and the baby are my world, you know that?"

She nodded her head, tears in her eyes. "I know"

And then

One night - the air thick with tension, the baby nearly due, her body aching and her heart at a breaking point — Roman took her hands beneath the stars.

He placed a kiss on them both, as he stared into her eyes. His hand reaching out to caress her swollen belly, as if he already claimed the child within.

"I love you." He spoke out. "I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you tryin to wrestle a feed bag outta your truck, alone."

Her lips trembled at his words.

"I wanna raise this little girl with you. As mine. I’ll be the man you need. The father this child deserves. A loving man you deserve. We can leave. Tonight. Just you and me."

She choked back a sob, staring at the man In front of her — all broad shoulders, calloused hands, warm strength, his eyes filled with love every time he stared at her.

"I love you too" she spoke as her voice slightly cracked. "I wanna be with you. I don’t wanna a life with him, I want to spend it with you."

He smiled at her words, placing a firm kiss on her forehead, as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Then she looked up at him as he pulled back. "I’m gonna go pack a bag"

"Okay ima go start the truck up." Placing a soft peck on her lips, before she walked back in the house.

They didn’t run far. Just a nearby town, quiet and safe, where no one knew her as "Colton’s wife." Where Roman rented a small ranch house, painting the nursery yellow, and read baby books to their baby girl through Neveahs stomach, earning a few kicks from her.

Neveah would laugh her ass off every time they laid in bed, him shirtless with his cowboy hat and toothpick between his teeth, reading in different voices just to see her smile.

He was there for eveything. When her water broke, helped her through every contraction, held her hand and kissed her forehead through every scream. Thanked her for letting him be apart of her life as he watched their baby girl let out her first cry.

And when the nurse handed her the baby wrapped in pink, Neveah turned to Roman with happy tears in her eyes.

"She’s yours"

Roman carefully took the baby from her like she was made of gold as his eyes watered. Kissing her tiny forehead, and looked at Neveah with so much love.

"She’s ours" he whispered sitting on the side of the hospital bed, as Neveah rested the side of her head against his arm.

Both of them staring at the beautiful, sleeping baby girl in his arms, with smiles on their faces.

🏷 @trippinsorrows @catxo @bloodlineslut @whowrotethenote @4milly @adoreesun @mikaylathenerd5 @romanreignsbae @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @uceyliyahh @christinabae @mjonthetrack @luuvprincess @beccalynns-world

Also I forgot to say if your on the taglist and wanna be removed for the Roman fics please let me know so I can take you off. I’ll leave y’all on for the Jey uso ones though.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Clayton and his drunk gf

As someone who rarely drinks (like maybe once or twice a year type of rare) I think he'd find it hilarious and maybe slightly concerning just how much of a light weight you could be. Cause 1 unit of alcohol already has me acting silly af. Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

"You sure you want to drink tonight, baby?" He asks not because he doesn't want you to drink, but because he knows it's a rare occurrence and because Clayton knows your definition of drinking is likely to be two fruity drinks before you're smashed. He doesn't mind if you chose to, just wants to make sure you're happy with it, that you don't feel pressured into it because the guys are drinking.

You've never had much of a tolerance for alcohol in all the time he's known you, not really building one because of how rarely you drink and in truth he loves it when you do because you're hilariously funny. Clay also likes how drunk you practically thinks sun shines out his ass with the way you always cling to him and compliment him. You're usually too shy to tell him everything you're thinking, too shy to be quite so openly admiring of him, it makes his ego grow a few sizes whenever you do drink. He gets to be loved on publicly, gets to show you off in a way you'd usually be too shy to attempt.

"Yeah, feel like it tonight,"

"Okay." It's simple really, you trust him enough to drink around him and let go of some of that control. It's a given that since your drinking Clayton won't, he doesn't feel put out by it, it's not like he drinks much anyway during the season. If anything there's a source of pride in knowing you trust him to lose some of that tightly held control you have.

The first drink hits you quick and makes you bubbly, giggly and more outspoken, but the second? The second has you thinking you're whispering when you're shouting, has you singing along to each song that comes on in the bar and more importantly for Clayton has you openly clambering into his lap when normally you'd be too shy and self-conscious to do so in public.

"You okay there, sweet girl?" You've crawled into his lap in the booth, not caring about the amused glances his team mates and their partners send your way as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, legs straddling either side of his hips in a way that really isn't very appropriate for a public setting.

"Mmmhmmm...." You hum happily, fingers fiddling with his cross as he wraps his arm around you to support you and keep you secure on his lap, not wanting you to slip off and backwards.

"You're super pretty..." You sigh it out so heavily as you blink up at him that it's almost like it's a bad thing, like his prettiness is causing you some sort of pain.

"You think I'm pretty, baby?" Clay's smirking down at you, teeth peeking out from beneath his lips, dimples coming out. He doesn't pay much attention to Kess whose already groaning about the two of you being disgusting or that Cools is giving him a look like he's touched a dead bug. Clay's focus is solely on you and the way you gaze up at him like he's the best thing in the world, your eyes a little glassy from the alcohol. Two whole drinks like always doing you in for the count, you won't drink another and will sleep like a baby later.

"You're the prettiest man I've ever seen." You tug at his chains absently enough that he has to lean forward to stop you from choking him slightly, but he doesn't mind. Not as your free hand scratches up the back of his neck and into his hair, new nails still slightly sharp, Utah Hockey Club blue proudly on display.

"You sure? Not one of those Hughes brothers?" Clay thinks back to when you first started seeing each other, you a Vancouver fan first with a fat crush on Quinn Hughes. A crush that had severely diminished since your crush on your boyfriend took root. Clay could joke about it now, but the first Utah vs Vancouver game he'd been slightly grumpier than usual, until he'd realised your eyes had been on him the entire game, not evening sparing the Canucks captain a glance when you walked past him to get to Clay after the game.

"Hughes brothers? Don't know 'em, don't care, cause my boyfriend is the prettiest man on earth." You proudly announce, pressing a kiss to his chin that was intended for his lips, missing by a mile.

"Oh my god, I'm going to be sick." Michael groans, throwing his head back and it has you twisting in Clayton's lap leaning towards Michael so far that you're close to tipping off his lap. You would do if Clayton didn't have a firm grip on your waist, fingers digging in to stop you slipping away.

"You just wish you were as pretty as Clayton is. You're jealous!" It's like watching two children argue. You're drunk and silly, Michael is...well, he's Michael which means he's a goofball who grins at you and the fact he can argue with someone whose the right side of tipsy.

"You saying I'm not pretty? Kells you need to sort your girl out, everyone knows I'm pretty."

"Why? She's right." He grins at Kess as you turn back to Clay, arms wrapping tight around his neck and pulling yourself as close as you can get, nose nuzzling into his neck like you want to burrow under his skin.

"So pretty..." It's mumbled against his skin where you press a kiss into his neck, a kiss that turns to you sucking a hickey there in full public view of all his team mates, the alcohol in your system removing any shame that you might have.

Most of the guys just shake their heads at you, the sort of amused smile reserved just for you because they know you're not normally this obnoxiously into Clay. Because they all love you even if you can't hold your alcohol.

"Baby." He tugs you away from his skin with a light scold, you scowl at him, pout at being pulled away from littering his skin in purple marks.

"Clay..." You whine at him as he tugs you more firmly onto his lap, hands squeezing your hips and running up and down your thighs.

"We're in public, baby." He tries to remind you as the guys start to disperse, some going to play pool, some going up to the bar for another drink. One by one they leave until it's just the two of you sat in the booth, hidden away in a darkish corner of the bar in a way that only seems to embolden you.

"Then lets get out of public."

His laugh is startled, loud, forced out of him because you're so...he loves you all the time. He loves your usual reserved, shy demeanour that has you giggling at him whenever he's particularly flirty, but God, does he love you when you're like this too. When you're so openly into him that you're almost dumb about it, head a little empty.

"Baby, we've been out an hour."

"But, I want to cuddle and Kess keeps making fun of me!" You sit up a little straighter in his lap, your brows furrowing together at the thought of Kess being mean to you.

"Well, Kess is gone now and we can cuddle, but you can't be marking me up, sweet girl, not here." He loves that you want to, always loves wearing your marks, loves the way it shows in post game interviews and how everyone knows he's taken. But, he also knows a bar isn't exactly the appropriate spot for you to give him them and he is sober...trying to limit sober you's future embarrassment.

"But..."

"But?"

"What if other girls get the wrong idea?" Your frown deepens at the hypothetical idea of any girl coming up to him, trying to get his number, a numb sort of jealousy filling you because you're too tipsy to realise that no girl in her right mind would come up to him when you're literally in his lap loving on him.

"Sweetheart, there's not a single girl in this bar that thinks I'm single right now. You're quite literally in my lap. Any girl that walks up to me right now is an idiot." and barking up the wrong tree. Clay's only got eyes for you, he's only had eyes for you since the first day he saw you, like a switch flicked in his head that made every other girl a footnote, an after thought. His world rotating around you.

You're muttering vague threats under your breath about what you'd do if some random girl tried to get his number right now and it makes his heart happy. To have you so in love with him, so dedicated to him. There are guys out there who have to worry when their girl is drunk because maybe she'll find someone else, but you? His biggest worry is that you'll try to drag him into the bathroom for quickie or that you'll trip over your own feet and hurt yourself. Other guys might as well not exist to you, the sort of wholehearted focused attention on him that makes him feel like he's on top of the world.

He soothes you, placates you with sweet words until you're leaning back into him, nuzzling back into his neck and fiddling with his cross again. You cuddle against him, against his warmth until he can feel your eyes starting to blink slower and slower, your breathing evening out as you lull yourself into a state of relaxation. You're not quite asleep, but you're sleepy, nuzzling against him like you would at home, curling closer and closer until there's not a single ounce of space between you.

He lets you grasp at his chains, lets you rest like that even when he needs to pee because quite frankly the warmth of you against him is all he needs. He doesn't need to play pool with the guys or get another drink. He just needs you against him and he's somehow managed to hit the jackpot.

[puppycheesecake]

Let's make a Sim!

Heyyo~ I want to make something but I don't know what, so I'm just gonna start and see where I end up, and I'll document the process so you can follow along with me if you want.

Warning: long post under the cut!

Follow meee~! ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

Let's start with a blank Sim. A clean slate. I keep some blank Sims saved in my library for just such an occasion.

Hi buddy. 👋

Since I'm not starting off with any particular idea in mind, let's just randomize and see what pops up:

Yeah, okay. That's a decent enough base to start with.

I don't know what I want to do with him yet, but I think he should be cute. Just a cute lil' guy, you know?

But first he needs a chin.

Jesus Christ.

Now that he has a lower jaw, let's set the eye color back to default black. We'll figure out what to do with them later; for now I want to work on his facial structure.

Okay, getting somewhere.

Now he needs big, beautiful eyes. I'm deciding that now. Our nameless Sim is going to be a cute lil' guy and he's going to have big beautiful doe eyes.

We'll use this eye preset and scale it down a little.

Baby boy. Baby.

While we're here, let's give him a new lip preset and new eyebrows. We'll keep his nose for now, but let's make it a little bigger.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

Now onto skin details. ✧w✧

Let's start with a skinblend. We'll use @adelarsims's Romeo Face Overlay, and maybe we'll layer @sims3melancholic's Frederick Skin over it at about ~15% opacity, just for that liiittle touch of texture and color. (Thank you Color Slider mod.)

Oh he's CUTE cute.

You know what? Make him purple. We'll use one of @noodlescc's Sorbet Remix skin tones.

So he's cute, and purple. But who are you, nameless Sim?

Oh hey. Let's add @gloomiegalaxie's Chitin Antenna. I've been wanting to use those.

We'll call him Chitin Boy.

Greetings Chitin Boy.

So he's cute, purple, and bug-y. Party. Let's finish adding skin details, and give him some shiny new bug eyes. Big, beautiful bug eyes.

We'll also give him some pointy ears. Bitches love pointy ears.

It's me; I'm bitches.

Additional skin details:

Undereye Shadow

Eyelids N13

Eyebags Plus

Mouth Corners

Definition Overlay

Chin Overlay

Misc. Face Details

Now let's hit the gym, Chitin Boy. ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

Chitin makes up insect exoskeletons and is pretty tough stuff--maybe Chitin Boy's species is also tough, and that's why they need chitin armor. So our boy is cute, but tough...let's make him slim but muscular. We'll use this body preset, because I like the muscle definition.

We're also going to give him an itty bitty slut waist, just because.

Now onto tattoos and body skin details... ( ◡‿◡ *)

Let's mix in a couple different blushes to give him a bit more color/depth, maybe a little highlight here and there to give him some shine, plus some bug-ish looking overlays.

Tattoos:

Torrada Body Blush

Lovefreak Body Blush

Blush N74 (Love You Like Crazy)

Eye Highlight N01 (Spark)

Demon Days Pallor (to make his skin just a little more purple)

Intergalactic Overlays (yes we're going to use that one overused nose ridge overlay, hush; it makes sense in the context of a chitinous bug-man.)

Skin Details:

Basic Body Blush

Asteroid Overlay

Tiefling Skin Detail

There we go. Lookin' extra insect-y.

Bitches don't know 'bout my bug armor.

Y'know what? Let's embrace the bug angle. Give that boy some mandibles. We'll give him new eyebrows too while we're at it. Let's use @plantainboat's Spikey Leaf Eyebrows.

Oof I love that bit of blue. Let's incorporate it into the rest of him.

Now it's makeup time. 👁👄👁

How about... Eyelashes / Eyeliner / Eyeshadow / Lipstick / Highlight / Glitter. We want him colorful and shiny, like a beetle.

Oh work.

Since we're embracing the bug/alien angle, let's give him a more fitting nose. We'll use this orc nose preset.

Lookin' cute, Chitin Boy. (Note: he has no idea that he's considered adorable by Earth standards. On his planet he's considered quite menacing. :'c )

Now let's give him some hair. ("Chitin and keratin?" you say. To which I say, "Yes. He has both. He is rich in both polysaccharides and proteins, and this makes him unstoppable.")

Now, what kind of hair... I think he should have long hair. It just feels right. Chitin Boy's species is tough but beautiful, and they grow their hair long. It flows behind them in battle.

Ooh, let's use @yin-shimo's Qing Jiu hair.

Perfect, but it's not quite the color I want, so we'll use @tricoufamily's Willoughby Hair Overlays to tweak the color, plus these ombre & root overlays. Bugs are colorful, so Chitin Boy's species should be, too.

Also we'll give him new eyeshadow. Oh, and cooler ears.

Chitin Boy you are positively radiant.

Okay, we've got a good color palette going here. Let's go back into tattoos & skin details and change that pop of color from purple to blue, so we can pull some of that color down onto the rest of his body.

We're also giving him a braid. It feels important. Chitin Boy has a braid and he's very proud of it. Maybe it has some kind of significance in Chitin Boy culture.

Okay, love that.

Now let's dress him up. ( ͡o ω ͡o )

I'm thinking we want some bright, bold colors, but I also want to utilize a lot of black. He's pretty but he's also fierce and serious, I've decided. We want colors that will complement his color palette but won't distract from it--Chitin Boy is bold and beautiful, but he isn't gaudy.

His clothes should be functional and comfortable, and shouldn't restrict movement--he needs to be able to move quickly if he's from a tough warrior-bug-alien species, and if he already has chitinous skin he won't need much actual armor. But they should have a unique silhouette, too; not just "shirt and pants," you know?

I also want to show off his body details/coloring, because look at him--it'd be criminal to cover all that up.

Let's go with: Bottoms / Top / Shoes.

These recolored Journey to Batuu bottoms give him a great silhouette, and pairing the asymmetrical skirt with an asymmetrical top balances it out. And of course a fierce bug-boy warrior needs a sturdy pair of boots--that's just a given.

Maybe Chitin Boy is a warrior on his planet, but on Earth he's just a guy. I bet he'd be into the punk/metal scene. His culture doesn't have music but they do have screaming, so naturally he's drawn to Earth's Loud Scream-Singing.

Let's add on some punk-y accessories to complete the look: Gloves / Belts / Bracelets / Nails

We'll tweak the body a little bit, aaand...

Chitin Boy, you beautiful bastard, you've done it again.

There he is. Our Chitin Boy. From inception to finish. :') Now we'll give him some traits--how about Self-Assured, Chased by Death, Music Lover, and Loner. Confident and self-sufficient, keenly aware of his own mortality, and just a big fan of a good song.

He likes arguments & singing and dislikes silly behavior & video games. He likes argumentative Sims, but does not like ambitionless Sims. His favorite color is blue.

And we'll give him the Soulmate Aspiration. Because Chitin Boy needs love. 💖

How it started vs. How it ended:

Glow-up. 💅

And that's a wrap! Thanks for accompanying me on this journey. I don't know if this is actually going to help anyone, but it's been a hell of a ride. :^) May you go forth and make some weird random Sims of your own.

[luveline]

hi baby if you feel up for it i'd love to request some fluffy fluff with sirius. maybe he's usually so reserved and stoic (because, cmon) and they're out with his friends and they're all making fun of him for being so lovey and doting on r

love u sm!

love you!! ♡ fem, 1k

"This is really lovely," Sirius says, your face turned to the light in his hand. "It's bright without looking out of place. Blue is your colour." 

"Thanks, bug," you murmur back, holding still as he cleans the smudged mascara from your lower lash line.

"Every colour is your colour," he amends. "It goes nice with your top." 

You rub your lips together slowly, sticky with gloss. His noticing makes all your make up efforts worth it. 

Sirius wipes his thumb into the tissue you'd given him and tucks it away, stroking your cheek one last time with his other hand before stealing yours to twine your fingers. Your friends have carried on into the pub, but it doesn't take long to catch them. Remus was kind enough to wait at the entrance, eyebrows raised. 

"What?" Sirius asks. 

"Nothing." It's clearly something. "At all." 

You figure it's between them and skirt past Remus with a smile, eager to hide away in the warm wooded walls of The Firestroke. The boys filter in behind you, following you through the entryway and past the bar to the table James has commandeered with Emmeline. 

He's fiddling with her hair, readjusting a bobby pin, another held between his lips. "It looks nice, Emme, you should have it out of your face more often." 

"Marl says that all the time. Hey!" She beams at you. "Come and sit by me." 

You laugh happily and slide onto the seat next to her. You, Emme, and James sit on the booth side while Sirius and Remus set themselves down opposite. A waitress arrives and Sirius doesn't wait for the others, ordering a round of drinks for the entire group, wherever they may be. They'll filter in soon enough. 

"And extra cherries for my girl, please," Sirius says, nodding to you as he does. "Thanks." 

"Ooh, for his girl," James croons. 

"Remember when he'd order stuff for me like that?" Remus asks. 

Sirius rolls his eyes, offering his hands to you from across the table. Honestly, you're slightly surprised at his behaviour today, but you won't look a gift horse in the mouth. You lay your hands in his obligingly and relax as he begins to draw shapes into the fronts of your fingers, tiny stroking lines that feel ridiculously good, even under the eyes of your friends. "He's lying. I'd purposefully get his food wrong when we were teenagers so he'd have to go up to the counter and correct it." 

"Like exposure therapy I never signed up for," Remus sighs. "It worked, too." 

Sirius laughs. He's handsome to begin with, the last burst of a tan from summer's end on his skin, his hair dark and lush in the shimmering light, and when he laughs it's a tenfold effect, the grey of his eyes suddenly mesmerising, the wicked curve of his smile softened into a sweeter thing that begs to be kissed, or admired at the very least. You let him keep one hand but turn the other inward to give him similar treatment, rubbing your fingertips up and down his palm in a ticklish wave. 

"Do that to me, mate, there's a good lad," James says, offering his hand. Emmeline bats it away. 

"Awfully jealous today, aren't they?" Sirius asks you, ignoring their teasing to curl your fingers in and cover them. 

"I…" You're not sure what to say. Does he not realise how sweet he's being? Publicly? He's not usually this open. 

"You okay?" 

"Fine, just…" Words fail you twice. You cringe at your lack of explanation, but Sirius doesn't falter in his nice touches. It shouldn't shock you when he slides his chair tight against the table and pulls your hands ever closer, his top lip scratchy with hair as he leans down to kiss your knuckles. "Siri." 

"Yes, darling?"

"Jesus," Marl says, announcing her presence with a faked gag. "What's your problem, Black?" 

"I'm deeply in love, McKinnon. Not that you'd know what that feels like." 

You melt in your chair as he kisses a short path to your wrist. You could write Marlene a ten thousand word essay on love if she needed it, that's how adored he's got you feeling. 

"Absolutely vile."

"So sweet!" Mary denies, plopping herself down in the chair beside Sirius', all pink tulle and flowery smells. Any other day you'd be jealous of her in a good-natured but undeniably insecure manner, terrified that Sirius was gonna turn to her and see her in all her dewy beauty, but he doesn't so much as look up, your hands now rubbed against his cheek. 

"He's had a bit of catnip or something," Remus says. 

"It's the eyeshadow," you try to explain. 

Sirius lifts his head severely. "It looks perfect, but it's definitely not the eyeshadow. I'd feel just as mad about you if you were covered in soot." 

"Good to know," you say breathlessly. 

"Oh, so you're feeling pathetic today?" Marl asks.

Sirius sighs as though he's been greatly inconvenienced and sits up properly, casting his gaze around the group for a lick of sense between them, if his slack eyebrows are anything to go off of. "You're all wrong. I'm this pathetic for her every day of the week." 

"Then what's with the PDA?" James asks incredulously. 

"Mate, first of all, look at her. And if you must know, it's our anniversary." 

You flinch, your gaze jumping to his. The group erupts with well wishes and 'why didn't you say so's, and James slaps his card on the table, insisting that the round is on him to celebrate. Your heart races as you make the calculations in your head, calming as you realise that nothing falls on today's date, not a half month nor a first date. 

"Sirius?" you ask while everyone's distracted. 

He takes your hand again and begins kissing your knuckles once more. "I'm lying," he says, as you'd figured, scratching your fingers with his stubble. "That's what he gets for prying… You really do look lovely tonight." 

You nearly swallow your tongue. "Thank you. You look lovely, too." 

He smiles, twining your fingers together to rest his face against the back of your hand. "Thanks, angel." 

[l3monlem0n]

Some Murder Drones Episode 7 screenshots I thought were interesting and my thoughts on them :>

SPOILER WARNING!!!! is spoilering

Nori, despite being a middle aged woman with a child, appears to be an Otaku or otherwise likes "edgy" and "scene" stuff, as well as listening to nightcore, very much like her daughter. Good for her tbh you're never too old to have fun

She also has a photo of Khan and what I can only assume is baby Uzi, though it appears to have blue eyes, but maybe it's just the lighting. Still very cute she has a pic of her husband

As well as all the previously mentioned Otaku stuff, she also drew herself as an anime character. She has a skinsona. Phenomenal (pos)

Nothing much here, just Uzi coughing up blood. Girl got the goop (gore) inside of her already

Lab Space. Apparently the Church was just down there and not even the humans know why. The canonicity of this is questionable; it could just be a joke

OT, as per google, stands for "Occupational Therapy". Makes sense for the context, and makes the bottom text funnier

"Fun Time To Universe Big Crunch: 87". The Big Crunch is a hypothetical way the Universe could end, where the universe folds on itself and shrinks into a single point. 87 "what" I don't know. If it's months, that 7 years and 3 months

Honestly the Murder Drones lore is super confusing. I think what this is trying to say is that every other Zombie Drone is doing poorly, (Except for Yeva), they are trying to reactivate 002 (Nori) via the USB. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe they only got the results they wanted from the two of them, and are trying again with Nori since she was the only other one that worked (also why they got Yeva when she failed; this may all be referring to how the episode opened up) Also, the date says SER. As revealed in the episode Cabin Fever, Copper-9 has months that Earth does not. SER most likely stands for Seramorris, the month revealed in that episode

Looks like the "bad event" wasn't the first one. Certainly was the last one though lol

Just a good pic of ghost/hologram V with the scary stuff. Might use this as a wallpaper

You can literally see the hole in his neck where N bit him in...

...And it's to the point his HEAD FALLS OFF. (including because I didn't notice the first time around)

Yup, the idea that Uzi became the Admin for N and V is completely true. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't, since Cyn didn't react whatsoever

friggin bug (very pos)

You would not believe how difficult it was to get a good pic of this (I'm using snipping tool lmao). Always a pleasure to see Uzi's doodles. Things her gun can do (upper right):

NOT judge her

Forced prom date (?)

Allows her to say she had friends before she frickin murdered them with sci-fi machinery

The cut off text at the bottom: Plan B: Normal gun + Shoot really fast

This is while Tessa is looking for something in the lockers. Claws, chains, magnets, Wings, and scribbled "HELP". Looks like the lockers were all specifically to hold the infected worker drones. Oof

We are in the future now baby. We have rererererereCAPTCHA. Funnily enough, it still couldn't stop a robot

There is a message board where someone who doesn't like robots is talking. They also are scared. Also no one else is using this system, which is unsurprising. "Ur aight ;)" Wait is the winky face intentional foreshadowing? Or unintentional?

We get the names of a bunch of other Worker Drones. Unfortunately for all 029 fans, her name was not visible. (also can someone tell me what "JWEB" could be short for?) And Yeva is said to have a patch. That may be the crucible thing idk

Cyn (which I will be calling this version Skyn [Skin + Cyn]) apparently took of the space suit just to give Doll the Withered Foxy jumpscare. Honestly really terrifying. If this photo was teased before release I think the fandom would've exploded

Just N being a good boy :3

The MDs, Cyn's pets. Nori refers to them as "Nerfed" so the "Entity" can ensure control, and says they were made to destroy other hosts. I don't know why Cyn would want them dead, but I'm not the loremaster here. YouTube line is there because I couldn't be bothered after the Railgun image

Probably already confirmed, but doubly confirmed that a symptom of the Solver is giving Drones organic insides. A Worker Drone body with a rib cage and guts. I wonder what would happen if the infection continued uninterrupted (also R.I.P. Doll I loved you :frown:)

I'm sure everyone noticed, but when Uzi tried to manipulate Tessa, the ERROR noticed appeared. Already hinting Tessa is not all she says she is

Apparently the Solver can create Black Hole Saws. Interesting development (Blackhole Blitz)

I know most people (I think) see this as a joke and N just being a bit of goofball. But honestly, I think he did it intentionally to shock Cynuzi and give Nori a chance. In the Pilot, he licked V's sword to surprise her too, which means he isn't unfamiliar with doing something weird and surprising for the advantage

Skyn eating Doll's core. R.I.P. Doll again. Seriously, was that Doll in Core Form like Nori was? Or was Nori a fringe case because she was "Exorcised" and this is just a regular core? Questions, questions. Also yeah the Solver also gives you a Core. Fun

This tag makes me think that this body is Cyn's actual body. Not longer a hologram, but her actual body from the mansion. The reason Tessa gave N, J, and V their names was because that was the first letter of their Serial Designation (she's very uncreative). However, Cyn's tag was slightly faded, which meant her SD couldn't be seen, so Tessa gave her the name "Cyn" after her P/N, even though the other 3 already have the same P/N as Cyn (Tessa, again, is very uncreative)...

...and for some reason, Cyn or the Solver, which ever theory you subscribe to, decided to wear Tessa as a skin suit for some twisted reason. It did help her with the Captcha. Also scary because this doesn't have the right proportions for an adult (unless Cyn really forced that skin on), which leads me to believe that this is a Younger Tessa, and she faked having an older voice. Maybe I shouldn't call her my wife... I'm sure Eldritch J is still available :^)

(Seriously, the eyes are burnt out, leaving two eye holes over the visor, so she gives herself two X eyes so it looks better. Also yeah we found out what that thing on the "It Came From Copper-9" poster came from. It really was Cyn or Skyn)

Just a frame of the final...frame... for coolness. I'm probably also going to use this for a background. Also, this is definitely Copper-9. You can see the ring and ringless moon together on the right. Uzi somehow got sent to orbit after falling in the meat hole

Well that was all for now. This series has consumed me entirely, body and soul, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Goodbye and goodnight

[lostwysteria]

(Part 11. Yesterday was rough. In more ways than one. My main manager on duty was in a snit all day and we were slammed. Today might be worse. your comments and asks really kill me, tho. And enable me terribly. (And give me ideas.) Your tags are amazing as well. Omg)

Masterlist

Nice felt absolute bliss as he held his long time love and his new love at the same time. He had fallen so fast for Lin Ling. As fast as he had for Wreck. He never knew he could hold so much love in his heart. It was almost painful.

He would tear down Hero Tower itself if he couldn't keep the two in his arms with him.

…

“At least you brought home food.” Moon griped before stuffing her face with pasta. Nice was, well, nice enough to let her finish the spaghetti they brought with them from the night before. If he was lucky it was the last bit of his Ling’s cooking she would be having for a looooong while.

“Do me a favor and try your teleportation now. Test out if my plan worked.” Nice demanded.

Moon did so eagerly as all three men watched from the couch.

It worked. Moon opened a portal to a beach. 

“!!!!” She screamed wordlessly.

“Congrats!” Ling clapped joyfully. Nice pumped a fist in celebration. Wreck just gave her a thumbs up. 

“Oh. Let me help you pack. Where are you going first?. Do we have sunscreen for you? Bug spray? Let's find you some plane tickets. I’d feel better if you took things slow for your first trip.” Homemaker fretted. He’d been knocked fully into hero mode. One of his charges was leaving the nest. He’d gained the mental thread to her over the week as well. The thought that she was leaving was making him anxious. “You have to visit at least every season!” He told her seriously. Four months was the longest he could be separated from a permanent charge before their linking thread broke.

“I will! I’ll bring souvenirs!” She agreed happily.

Moon’s tablet beeped. She checked it. She then squealed. “I am still contracted with Treeman, but I can be a Wandering Hero. I still have a job! Oh. This is the best!”

…

Kira @cantstopwontstop

Nice bringing his men home.

*A pic of Nice landing in front of Hero Tower with Homemaker in his arms and Wreck on his back*

…

“Hey. Take care of them, yeah?” Moon half asked as Nice watched her pack.

“Isn't that a given, you gremlin?”

“Yeah. As much as I despise you, I’ll also kind of miss you, you Ken Doll.”

“Shut up. Me too.” He huffed.

“No you won't. You’ll be too busy trying to make babies with your new wife and your husband.” She teased. 

Nice stiffened. His face turned tomato red and a trickle of blood came out of his nose. Moon stared.

“Oh my god. Go away you perverted freak.” She choked out in a strangled whisper screech.

He flew to the bathroom at mach speed. 

Moon stared at her hands again and thought of the power she had as a Trusted fanfic author. “Omg.” She muttered, hysterical.

…

Moon left that night. Nice was down in the offices arguing with Miss. J over maybe setting up a ‘redemption arc’ for Wreck. Nice was obviously sick of shit and was now standing up for what he wanted. And he wanted Wreck to be by his side along with Homemaker. 

Ling was puttering around, placing little knick knacks on the new shelves he finished putting together and watering the new house plants. He was determined to make the place more cozy in a way that didn't set off Nice’s OCD. Wreck was at the piano playing a rambling melody.

It was very domestic and peaceful. Once he was done with his task Ling set down and started crocheting. He was making a light blue blanket. It was a domestic task that settled the buzzing need to do something under his skin. That was the drawback to his abilities. That overwhelming need to do domestic tasks and to care for others. 

It had only gotten stronger. He had hit rank 320. 180 ranks in a week. He was buzzing with new power. His abilities were much stronger now. As was the need. It would take a bit to get used to. 

“Thank you.” Wreck said as the melody shifted to a nice slow jazz.

“For what?” Ling asked as he added a colored row marker to the end of the blanket. It was a habit, really. He knew exactly what row he was on.

“For being there for him when I couldn't. He’s so much happier already. There's life in his eyes again.” 

“You don't have to thank me for that.” He told Wreck softly. 

“Yeah. I do.”

[forsaken-headcanons]

ok so c00lkidd , bluudud and Pr3typriincess have been taking up my brain space s bunch recently so uh HCs abt them!!

I hc them all as a form of imp / demon / smth like that I'm. so they all have horns

C00l and Bluu both have a two horns, with bluu's being a lighter shade of blue at the tips and c00l 's being darker at the tips

Pr3tty has only one horn protruding from her forehead, rather than 2, with dark pink tip, since it's kinda whimsical and looks cool :3 [ she also calls it her unicorn horn :]

While bluu is the oldest of the 3, pr3tty 's horn started growing in before bluu's, and she holds this over him all the time to bother him

Since bluu and c00l 's horns are still growing in, there are points where it is INCREDIBLY painful for them. When they get forsakened it gets much worse for them, with the horns still growing in whilst they're chasing people

Theyre all also nerodivergent. Bluudud gas both ADHD and Autism, Pr3typriincess has autism, and c00lkidd just has ADHD

Despite being bluu, bluudud 's favorite flavor for sweet stuff is key lime

Bluudud was probably not the most well-liked in school. A lot of people in his grade thought he was weird or annoying so he didn't really have many friends.

Pr3typriincess is gambler-phobic /ref /silly

Despite bluu saying "I'm still waiting on that dono, BUDDY" to chance whenever killing chance, they actually get along pretty well together. They're trans buddies :3 [ I hc chance and Bluu as both trans Masc :]

Pr3typriincess takes any chance she gets to insult Chance's fashion sense. She does NOT like his queer guy swag 😔 [ based off her voice line when killing them ]

Bluudud and Pr3typriincess live the closest to each other pre-forsaken, like same neighborhood close, while c00l and 7n live a bit further away in an apartment that's maybe 20 minutes away?

Adding to the chance and Bluu friendship hc, Bluudud whenever he's feeling super overstimulated would normally hide himself in the corner of a place and listen to music to calm down, but after being forsaken he couldn't do that and at one point during a round chance noticed and gave him their headphones to borrow during the game. The rear of the survivors [ minus 7n ] were confused as hell by it, to the point of shed giving chance slack abt it, but helped Bluu a lot. After that round 7n thanked chance for it

Oh yeah pr3tty is also taller than Bluu by like 2 inches and also holds this over him

Pr3typriincess and Bluudud actually somehow argue more than Bluu and c00l. Their dynamic to me is like mable and dipper from gravity falls :3

If c00l is ever really upset abt smth, Bluu tends to comfort him :)

Anyways that's it for nowww but uh I think you can tell who my favorites are [ chance and bluudud ]

— 🔵🪿 anon

I LOVE ANY HAPPY HEADCANONS FOR THE KIDDOS!! SMILES!! You've like, really gotta hear me out on Bluudud being a shark, C00lkidd being an imp, and Priincess being either a dragon or a bug. Buggy bug baby.