#wtf this is over 2k words

[cha1cedony]

Anyway. Feeling #normal and in the club 2nite 😁

[kurooh]

MY KINDA LOVE ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. what’re your favorite jjk characters’ kinks?

⟡ feat. gojo satoru, geto suguru, sukuna ryōmen, fushiguro toji, kamo choso.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, modern au, blindfolding, oral [f receiving], fingering, some pussy/clit slaps, degradation, edging, orgasm control, phone sex, masturbation, light choking, exhibitionism, squirting, size kink, rough sex, 69, cuddlefucking, not proofread. 3.5k words wtf

⟡ xoxo, juno: thank you for 2k i’m so grateful for all of you <3 send in some requests & as always rbs are loved !! maybe a pt 2 of this with other characters??

— GOJO SATORU.

★★ satoru loves blindfolding and tying you up, then he teases you until you’re begging him go let you cum. once he’s got you wet and needy, he edges you, then controls when and how you orgasm.

“desperation looks so good on you, baby,” satoru half laughs, half groans as he drinks in your tied up form. could this be any more perfect? god, you’re spread eagle for him, with his favorite black blindfold adorning your face, as well as soft black ropes binding your wrists and ankles to all sides of the bed.

“satoru,” you demand, twisting and bucking against your restraints in frustration. “fuck, you promised you wouldn’t tease me this much, i—ah!”

he lands a smarting slap against your pussy that has you squirming away from him, breaths coming out in puffs and aggravated huffs.

“no, i told you i’d play with you.”

satoru sits on the bed, adjusting so he’s laying on his stomach, then inches towards your twitching pussy.

“i want to cum!” you snap, tears of irritation building at the corners of your eyes beneath the blindfold. of course, he never takes well to you being a fucking brat; he leans close, hot breath fanning over your sticky slit.

“you wanna cum?” he asks darkly, hands coming to rest on your spread thighs.

you nod impatiently, and he hums, moving back slightly. “you know how to ask for it, baby.”

“yes, i want you to make me cum, toru.”

satoru dives into your pussy, obscenely slurping up your wetness and spreading it all over your clit and his own face in his eagerness. he’s tonguing at your slit, dipping inside with just the tip to tease before he’s pushing two thick fingers inside you.

“oh, that’s good,” you moan as he languidly drags his tongue against your clit, head dropping back and missing the way icy blue eyes stare up at you, insatiable.

satoru flicks your puffy clit with his tongue, thrusting his fingers extra hard when your entire body jolts in bliss. “toru, again— do that again, please.”

his hips rut against the bed, cock hard and throbbing for you. he decides he’ll make you cum a few times, and when you’re still reeling, he’ll fuck you so hard you both pass out.

“this?” satoru teases, flicking at your sensitive clit with his tongue a few times and watching you react. moments later, your back is bowing off the bed, tits bouncing nicely as you squeeze down on his fingers, cumming with a whiny keen of his name.

you expect him to kiss your thighs as you come down from your high, help you relax before he fucks you, but he instead wraps his lips around your clit and sucks forcefully. your bound legs kick into the air, straining against the ropes.

“toru, toru that’s too much!” you sob, pleasure mixing with a sting of pain as he ignores you. his fingers are still inside you, and start to thrust again, nearly slipping out with how wet you are.

“you-you’re so sexy like this, baby,” he mumbles against your wet skin, sucking and fingering you with little interest in stopping.

“toru!” you nearly scream, blindfold sliding down the bridge of your sweaty nose, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, please i’m too sensitive—”

he doesn’t let up, sucking your clit into your second orgasm and right through it, pleased when he sees a tear roll off your jaw.

“oh, but you wanted to cum, didn’t you?”

— GETO SUGURU.

☆☆ much like his best friend, suguru also enjoys controlling your pleasure — but he prefers when it’s mutual, so he has you help him get off over the phone.

“what?” you mumble, staring at the incoming call on your phone after glancing at the time. 2:43 am.

all the sleepy fog in your brain whooshes away as you question why he would be calling you at this time. after all, he’s supposed to be asleep, on a brief vacation trip with satoru, many cities away.

after swiping the answer button, you put your phone against your ear, yawning and leaning back into the mass of pillows at the head of your shared bed. “sugu, is everyth—”

a soft moan has your back straightening, eyes opening fully. “mm, i need you so badly.”

on the other side of the phone—the other side of the country—suguru’s palming lightly at his cock through sweatpants and boxers, in the bathroom of his shared hotel room while satoru’s passed out a good distance from the bathroom.

his admission has heat shooting through your body, accumulating in your pelvis. “what’s going on, suguru?” you ask gently, thighs flexing in excitement.

“we’ve been apart for far too long,” he mumbles, despite knowing it’s been 3 days since he’s been gone and he has 2 more to go before he’s heading back home. “and i just..” his voice trails off as he chuckles lowly, shaking his head, bangs moving back and forth.

“just what, sugu?” you’re hanging on to his every word, eager to hear him moan again.

“oh, i can’t quite seem to stop getting hard ons to you all around the clock,” suguru huffs, slipping a hand beneath the elastic band of his sweatpants.

you giggle, kicking the blankets off your legs and spreading your thighs. “maybe i can help you get off, suguru.” the way you say his name through the phone has him shuddering in his place sitting on the edge of the tub.

he moans, exhaling sharply as he rubs his thumb over the head of his cock through his boxers. god, he needs you in every way right now. bent over, spread open, on your knees, beneath his body..

“panties to the side,” suguru reminds you, fingers brushing over the length of his hard cock as he awaits your instruction, just as you listen to his.

“you sound perfect,” you whine, thumb pressing into your clit as you slowly rub tight circles. “start stroking, baby.. a-and, fast or slow?”

“rub it slowly, no need to rush,” he murmurs firmly, inhaling deeply as he pulls his cock free from his boxers; he tosses his unbound hair over his shoulder, wishing you were pulling on it as hard as you always do.

“sugu, when you’re back, i want you to eat me out,” you whisper, spreading your own wetness over your clit like he would’ve done with his own fingers.

“oh, i will,” suguru tightens his grip as he slides his fist up his cock, then loosening as he comes back down, “you remember that time you used that stupid kit on me and we made a dildo?”

“oh yeah,” you laugh lowly, recalling the memory and breaking off into a moan as you rub your clit, “you couldn’t stay hard when i was trying to put the plaster on you.”

his face straightens out and he groans, rolling his eyes, cock in hand. “shut up and fuck yourself with the dildo we made.”

you lean over, opening the nightstand drawer and pulling the aforementioned dildo out, holding it firmly. it really does look like suguru’s cock. “i want the real thing,” you breathe, lubing it up with your own wetness before pushing it inside your squeezing pussy. “sugu, feels really good..”

he moans, speeding up his pace on his cock as you develop a tempo with the dildo, rubbing your clit at the same time and setting your phone on speaker. “i want to cum with you,” suguru groans, soft and oh so sexy, “now and when we see each other again.”

the dildo’s going deep, stretching you out and filling you up almost as good as his cock does. your mouth hangs open as you press into the pillows, legs open as you moan carelessly. sticky slick slides down your skin, pooling in the sheets beneath you, but you don’t even care, too focused on your impending orgasm and how creamy the dildo’s making your pussy.

“sugu, faster, please, need you to cum with me!”

“don’t worry, sweet thing,” suguru grunts, fisting his cock tighter as more precum runs down the sides of his tip.

soon, heat swirls inside your pussy, clit becoming too sensitive, and you whine loudly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. similarly, he’s close to bursting with pressure. “cum with me, suguru!” you exclaim, breathless as each thrust from the dildo punches the air from your lungs.

he nods, then remembers you can’t see him. “cum with me, baby—ughhh.. shit, i’m gonna fucking cum, please cum with me!” suguru’s frenzied words have you cumming hard, body jackknifing as your pussy contracts, muscles in your thighs cramping from the force of the orgasm.

meanwhile, he’s got his fingers over his tip to prevent the cum from shooting up and turning into a mess; it pours down his cock in sticky white globs, and all he can think about is you cleaning it up with either your greedy pussy or your impatient tongue. he pants, still sensitive.

“are you alright? you came pretty hard, and god it was so fucking sexy.”

you can barely breathe, dildo in your sticky hand as you turn to move your mouth to the speaker. “i-i’m okay, sugu. and thanks, you sound pretty hot yourself.”

he laughs, grabbing some nearby tissues to clean himself up. “it’s goodnight, then?” a small smile plays on suguru’s lips when he hears you yawn, the bed creaking slightly as you stand up to turn on the lights.

“not yet, i’ve gotta change the sheets..” you turn on the light, squinting and then rolling your eyes at your now flashing phone. “suguru, why are you facetiming me?”

— SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

★★ sukuna always has you wet and needy for him, no matter if you’re in a public space or a private one. very occasionally, he lets you tease him until he’s tearing your clothes off somewhere where he definitely shouldn’t be.

“you’d better be quiet, brat, or everyone’s gonna hear how much of a fucking slut you are.” sukuna hisses, fingers pushing into you deeper while his free hand grasps at your throat.

“ah, kuna, ‘m trying— shit, your fingers feel so good!” you exclaim, whimpering as his grip tightens almost immediately.

“trying isn’t good enough. be fuckin’ quiet,” his lips brush over the shell of your ear before he bites down lightly, fingers curling inside you and pushing hard into your g-spot.

the air’s hot in the dressing room, heavy with the sounds of your panting and his hushed groans, muffled by your skin as he presses his face against your neck. sukuna’s sitting on the small stool provided in the dressing room to assist with changing, hard cock twitching against your bare ass as you twist in his lap, hole clenching around his fingers.

you’d been teasing him during your shopping trip, giggling as you’d brush against him with far too much pressure for it to be called an accident, sticking your tongue out when he’d lean in for a chaste kiss. all of that pissed him the fuck off, and the second you suggested heading into a store to try on a few sundresses, he’d practically dragged you into the dressing room, slipping past the attendant with ease.

now, your needy pussy’s stuffed with his fingers, sundresses untouched and hanging on the hook. footsteps sound past the door, and sukuna’s fingers go from curling deep to scissoring in and out of your dripping pussy.

“aw, look at you,” he sneers, heel of his hand bumping into your clit haphazardly as he fingers you roughly. “you were such a brat earlier, now you’re dripping all over me like a whore, all in public.”

“‘kuna, faster, please let me cum!” your face burns, head spinning when he actually obliges, fingertips pressing into your cervix with each of his thrusts.

“mmm, fine. i suppose you can, brat.”

“t-thank you, thank you so much.” you stutter, sloppy pussy squelching.

you turn your head, whining as your lips search for his; his hand slides up your throat before settling firmly beneath your chin. he tugs you into a hot kiss, nipping hard at your soft lips and making you squeal.

unhappy with your noise, sukuna brings the heel of his palm against your clit sharply, and you fall quiet, trembling violently. so much so that you can’t even kiss him, instead bringing your own hand up to your mouth and jamming your knuckles into your mouth.

“tsk, that good, huh?” sukuna sounds pleased, but what else would he be? he’s watching you melt into a mess in his lap, all from such simple stimulation.

“yes,” you mumble, leaning your head back against his chest as you feel your orgasm approaching. a large hand firmly wraps around your throat, and crimson eyes sparkle as you start to tense up.

“gonna cum for you, kuna,” is all you can rasp out when he’s squeezing so hard on your throat your eyes are rolling back, and you’re seeing stars.

the first quick contractions of your pussy only inspire him to move his fingers faster, until you’re arching against him and orgasming as silently as possible, a few tears rolling down your burning cheeks.

sukuna hums lowly as he releases your neck, smirking down at your sweaty, fucked out face. “tired yourself out yet, brat? you’re in for some more when we get back home.”

— FUSHIGURO TOJI.

☆☆ to toji, sex isn’t good sex if you’re not a dripping, fucked out mess collapsing on him by the end of it. his favorite part of sex is watching his cock stuff your little pussy, and he smirks when you cry about how big he is.

“t-toji, it won’t fucking fit!” you cry in aggravation, scrunching up your tears stained face. you’ve been straddling him, trying to ride his cock for far too long, all while toji sits back.

“if ya want it so bad, try ‘nd do it without my help, doll” was what he’d said when you told him you were finally ready to move beyond oral sex.

after letting him fuck your throat a few times, and messing around with some pussy jobs, you understood just how big his cock was. however, you didn’t expect to struggle this much to even get him inside your prepped pussy.

“no need to cry.. you want some help, babygirl?” an infuriating smirk plays on toji’s lips as he so obviously enjoys your pathetic struggle to get his dick inside you. honestly, he didn’t expect you to keep trying as much as you already have; clearly you’re determined to be fucked. you nod, wiping at your eyes hard.

“well then, get on your hands and knees.”

you do as he demands, body swaying with anticipation as you hear him grunt behind you. toji spreads your ass cheeks out forcefully, and you’re gasping as his sticky tip presses into your quivering pussy. “t-toji, you’re huge,” you heave, stating the obvious.

“i know, doll,” he replies, snickering quietly as he slowly pushes forward. “it’ll all disappear inside your greedy pussy pretty soon.”

“i-i doubt that, i couldn’t even get it in earlier—”

“oh yeah? you wanna doubt me, doll?” toji rasps, voice darkened with some sort of hunger.

he doesn’t even let you answer before rough palms are rubbing across your skin and fingers are digging into your hips; then he’s unceremoniously shoving his full length into your drooling, needy cunt.

a heated mix of pain and pleasure rips right through you as he stretches you out with a strained groan. “toji!” you practically scream, shaking hard as you spasm all over his length. “you’re so deep inside, i can’t—”

“you can’t?” toji parrots, hand coming down on your ass nice and hard. “don’t say that shit. you can, and you will.” leaving absolutely no room for discussion, his hips surge forward, driving his cock as far as it’ll go inside you. you can only gasp as toji’s thrusts shove the air right out of your lungs, and suddenly you think you can feel him in your stomach.

as his thick tip slams into an especially sensitive place inside your pussy, a new sensation sets your entire body alight with bliss. wet sounds rise above the sound of skin smacking against skin, and toji laughs behind you before his amusement is cut off with a lusty groan. “oh yeah, princess. that’s it, be a good girl ‘n cum all over me.”

so that’s what this is? you’ve never felt so sensitive, not when he was eating you out or when he was fingering you as hard as he does. no, this is different. before you can think any further about what may be happening, cum sprays out of you, all over his pelvis and abs.

you’re collapsing onto the bed, sobbing into the sheets while the pace of his hips only quickens. drool seeps from the corners of your lips, trailing down your skin and into the sheets.

“gonna cum inside you, babygirl,” toji moans, seconds before his cock is thickening and spilling inside your overstimulated pussy.

he sits back, chest heaving as he watches you keel over, shaking. drool’s covering your chin, and your squirt and his cum leaks from your puffy, quivering.

“anyone in there, doll?” toji lightly slaps your cheek, grinning as you roll over with a whine. he scoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style out of the bedroom and into the connected bathroom.

“i’ll run a bath for you ‘n join you after changing the sheets, yeah?”

your tits bounce as you shake your head, legs wobbly when he places you down. “mm mm, i want you to be in the bath with me right now.”

“okay, the sheets—”

you level him with a pout, unintentionally trembling all over, and he caves far too easily.

“fine, but don’t complain later when we get out ‘nd you have to help me change the sheets, babygirl.”

— KAMO CHOSO.

★★ choso’s very particular about when and where he cums, going so far as to deny himself during a blowjob just so he’ll be able to fill you up. additionally, he’s often a little romantic, preferring closeness over all else when it comes to positions.

“oh, you taste good, choso.” your words, mumbled against the tip of his cock, cause his face to flush darkly. choso’s hands smooth over your hips before he tugs you backwards, trying to fuck his tongue deeper inside your creamy hole. your body spasms as you cum on his tongue, thighs tensing as you moan on his cock.

all he can do is gasp into you when you wrap your lips around his tip and slide down his length. his balls tense up as white hot pressure develops inside his cock, and he starts to whine, twisting away, but you’re holding his base firmly.

“let go,” choso gasps, staving off his orgasm as it bubbles up quickly. “don’t wanna cum like this.”

“cho, i want you to fill up my mouth.”

he shakes his head, tousled dark hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and sticky cheeks. “i wanna fill your pussy up, though,” he whines, finally pulling his cock free from your grip and flipping the two of you over so that you’re laying down instead of being in a 69.

“lift your leg up, sweetheart,” choso pushes you onto your side, grabbing his throbbing cock by the base and guiding his heavy tip between your folds. with his cheek pressed against yours, body curled around your own, he presses forward before fully shoving in. all you can do is struggle for breath as choso wraps a well-muscled arm around your waist and starts pounding away, groaning into your ear.

“slow down, please— ah!” sensitive all over and reeling from how roughly he’s moving, tears slip from your eyes as you let out little whines of his name.

“aww, don’t cry, baby,” choso murmurs, kissing your cheek and wiping the tears from your skin with gentle fingertips. “i’ll go slow, if that’s what you really want.” when you nod, he draws his hips back and begins to thrust with less speed and force. the change in momentum allows you to enjoy each drag of his cock back and forth inside you, his cockhead prodding into the deepest spots deliciously. meanwhile, choso’s got his face buried in your neck, inhaling your natural scent as he kisses and nips at the supple skin.

now that you’ve adjusted to his cock, you say breathlessly, tugging at his hand, “i-i want you to go faster, cho.”

“you can take it?” he questions, looking towards you with an arched brow as his hips pause momentarily.

“i promise,” you’re barely through the second word of your sentence before he’s already fucking into you mercilessly, now mumbling something unintelligible into your neck. his fingers rush from the softness of your abdomen to the wet skin of your folds, spreading them haphazardly as he searches for your clit, rubbing at it firmly.

choso’s chest heaves against your back as he clutches you tighter, struggling for breath. “oh, oh baby, ughhh— i’m gonna cum..” your hand slips beneath his chin easily as you pull him into a kiss, absorbing his gasps as they turn to whimpers against your plush lips.

hot cum pours deep inside you, and choso trembles as you squeeze down on him. he breaks away from the kiss, lifting your leg and pulling his cock from you, watching your fluttering pussy raptly.

white globs of cum leak out of your hole, dripping down your skin before you swipe most of it up with two fingers. choso thinks he’s burning, a blush rising high on his face as he watches you push your cum covered fingers into your mouth and suck. now he almost regrets not getting that blowjob earlier.

you let your fingers go with a pop, smacking your lips as you look at him innocently, giggling a little at the shock on his face.

“something wrong, choso? you’re flushed.”

“you know exactly what’s not wrong,” he huffs, leaning in for a kiss to taste himself on your tongue.

“cho, are you hard again?” a firmness presses against your backside, and he’s smirking now.

“i think you’ll have to suck me off until i can't get hard, baby.”

[7ndipity]

Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

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As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[23victoria]

six thrity

pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cussing, rude reporter, sexual innuendos, lil angsty, fluff, semi-complicated relationship

authors note: i’m so sorry if this is bad, i’m trying to finish up this 1k celebration cause i def made it too long but that’s my fault lol, also i’m almost at 2k…you guys are insane wtf, thank you, bedsides that ignore any typos, any feedback, comments, reblogs, are appreciated and i hope you enjoy!!

wanna be apart of my taglist?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the bustling paddock at Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya. It was Carlos Sainz's home race, and the atmosphere was electric. Fans waved flags adorned with his number, and the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. You watched from a distance as Carlos navigated his way through the media zone, his expression a mix of focus and polite detachment.

It was media day, and Carlos was in his element, handling the questions with the ease of a seasoned driver. You stood near the paddock's edge, trying to blend in with the sea of team members, engineers, and journalists, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. Despite the numerous interviews he had done over the past few days, Carlos never failed to flash that charming smile that had you falling for him in the first place. Today, however, there was an edge to his demeanor, something just beneath the surface that only you, someone who knew him so intimately, could detect.

From your spot, you could hear bits and pieces of the questions being thrown at him. They started as the usual race-related queries about tire strategies, car performance, and his thoughts on the competition. Carlos answered them with the poise of a driver who had been through this routine countless times.

But then, the questions shifted. The reporter in front of him, a man you recognized from a particularly notorious tabloid, changed his tone, his voice taking on an almost casual disregard that immediately put you on edge.

"Carlos, you've had an impressive season so far," the reporter began, and you could see Carlos nodding along, a polite smile on his face. "But let's talk about something a bit more personal, shall we? There have been some rumors floating around about your relationship with Y/N. Everyone knows you come from a well-off family and have a successful career ahead of you. But don’t you think Y/N, with her background, might not really fit into this world? Some people are saying she's with you for the status, that she might be out of her depth here. How do you respond to that?"

Your heart sank, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. The reporter’s tone was dripping with condescension as if he were speaking about something trivial, not your life, your relationship. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of humiliation and anger, every fiber of your being wanting to rush over there and demand he take it back. But before you could even move, you saw Carlos’s posture stiffen, the polite smile on his face faltering as the question fully registered.

For a moment, the paddock seemed to fall silent, the world narrowing down to just the two of you and that reporter. Carlos’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His smile faltered, confusion clouding his expression. His brows furrowed as the full weight of the question settled on him. It wasn’t about racing anymore; it was an attack on the woman he loved.

"Perdón, ¿qué dijiste?" Carlos's voice was low, measured, but there was a dangerous edge to it that you had never heard before. It was the kind of tone that warned of a storm brewing beneath the surface.

The reporter, clearly not expecting the reaction, stammered, "I-I was just asking if—"

Carlos didn’t let him finish. "No, no. Who do you think you are to disrespect my girlfriend like that? Do you think you can speak about her like she’s some kind of accessory or fling?" 

Carlos straightened in his posture, his gaze turning steely as he locked eyes with the reporter. "Are you serious right now?" he began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of anger. "I think you’re gravely mistaken if you believe Y/N is with me for any reason other than love."

The journalist opened his mouth to interject, but Carlos held up a hand, cutting him off. The room was utterly silent now, every eye fixed on Carlos as he continued.

"Let me tell you something about Y/N," he said, his voice firm. "She is one of the most intelligent, driven, and compassionate people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t need me or anyone else to define her worth. In fact, I’m the lucky one in this relationship, not her. I wake up every day grateful that she chose to let me be a part of her life."

Carlos’s eyes blazed with intensity as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of his conviction. "Y/N isn’t just some accessory to me or anyone else in this world. She’s built her life on her own terms, with her own strength and brilliance. She’s accomplished so much without the privileges that others might take for granted, and she’s done it all with integrity and grace."

The reporter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Carlos wasn’t done. His voice grew more impassioned as he continued, "Y/N doesn’t need me to validate her existence. She’s fiercely independent, and she’s made it clear that she stands on her own two feet. But she chose to be with me, and that’s something I never take for granted. Every day I am humbled by her presence in my life. She inspires me to be a better man, and I strive to be worthy of her love."

Carlos leaned forward slightly, his gaze never wavering from the reporter’s. "So, to suggest that she’s with me for status or that she doesn’t belong in this world is not only disrespectful to her but also profoundly ignorant. Y/N belongs wherever she chooses to be, and if you can’t see that, then that’s your problem, not hers."

The silence that followed was deafening. Carlos’s words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and emotion. The journalist who had asked the question looked visibly shaken, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Carlos’s response.

But Carlos wasn’t finished. Switching to Spanish, his tone softened slightly, but the edge of protectiveness remained. "No tienes ni idea de quién es ella," he said, his voice low but firm. "Ella es la mujer más increíble que he conocido. Mi madre siempre me enseñó a valorar a las personas por quienes son, no por lo que tienen, y Y/N es el mejor ejemplo de eso. Ella es amable, fuerte, y mucho más inteligente de lo que puedes imaginar. No necesitas mi vida para brillar, ya lo hace por su cuenta. Yo soy el afortunado aquí, no ella."

Carlos’s gaze swept across the room, making sure his words were fully absorbed by everyone present. He then fixed his eyes on the reporter once more. "And as for your question about her ‘fitting in,’" he added, now back in English, "Y/N doesn’t have to fit into anyone’s expectations. She’s too extraordinary for that. So let me make this clear: If anyone should be worried about ‘fitting in,’ it’s not her—it’s anyone who doesn’t see her value."

You watched, stunned, as Carlos ripped into the reporter with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. The entire paddock seemed to hold its breath, everyone frozen as they witnessed Carlos’s fierce defense of you. But he wasn’t done. Switching to rapid Spanish, he unleashed a tirade that had the reporter shrinking back in fear.

"Eres una vergüenza. No tienes ningún respeto. Claramente, tu madre no te crió bien, porque si lo hubiera hecho, sabrías cómo tratar a las personas con dignidad. Eres un pedazo de mierda por hablar así de mi novia."

("You're a disgrace. You have no respect. Clearly your mother didn't raise you right, because if she had, you'd know how to treat people with dignity. You're a piece of shit for talking about my girlfriend like that.")

You understood enough Spanish to catch the general gist of his words, but the intensity with which he delivered them left you reeling. The Carlos you knew was calm, composed, always in control. But here he was, publicly tearing apart a journalist who had dared to insult you, and doing so with a passion that made your heart race.

As Carlos’s assistant finally intervened, gently pulling him away from the confrontation, you noticed that Carlos didn’t hesitate for a second before turning and striding toward you. The fury in his eyes softened the moment they met yours, and without a word, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if anchoring himself to you.

He led you away from the paddock, away from the prying eyes and whispering voices, his grip on your hand firm yet comforting. You barely registered where he was taking you, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred up by the encounter. It wasn’t until you found yourself in the quiet sanctuary of Carlos’s private motorhome, the door closing behind you, that reality finally caught up.

Carlos turned to you, his expression filled with concern as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. "Cariño, are you okay? I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I should have protected you better."

You blinked up at him, still trying to process everything that had just happened. "I… I didn’t know you felt that way about me."

Carlos frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you spoke. "I know we’ve been together for a year, but with you always traveling and everything, we’ve probably only seen each other for half of that time. And with everything… sometimes I wonder if you’re going to stay with me at all. I thought eventually you’d get tired of me, maybe decide you wanted to be with someone else, someone more like you. Someone who understands your world better."

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw, the weight of your insecurities finally laid bare. You had never wanted to confront these fears, had always pushed them aside, but now, in the wake of Carlos’s fierce defense, they came spilling out uncontrollably.

Carlos’s eyes widened in shock, his hands trembling slightly as he moved them to your shoulders, grounding himself in your presence. "No, mi amor, no. I had no idea I was making you feel that way. I didn’t realize I was making you doubt how much I love you." His voice was thick with regret, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how he could have missed this.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, ashamed of the vulnerability you were exposing. "It’s just… I know I can be a lot sometimes. I get jealous easily, and I know that’s not fair to you. You have so many people around you, beautiful women who are more your type, who are part of your world. And I’m just… me. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a distraction for you, someone you’ll eventually outgrow."

Carlos’s heart broke at your words, the self-doubt that had been gnawing at you for months finally coming to light. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his expression filled with nothing but love and adoration.

"Listen to me, cariño," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "You are not just ‘you.’ You are the woman I love, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care where you come from, what your background is, or what anyone else thinks. You are the most important person in my life. No one else compares to you. Not models, not actresses, no one. I want you, and only you."

You stared at him, your breath hitching as you tried to comprehend the depth of his words. "But… what about all the times you were away? All the events and races where I wasn’t with you? Didn’t you ever feel like… like I was holding you back?"

Carlos shook his head, his grip on you tightening as if to physically reassure you of his feelings. "Never. Every time I’m away from you, all I think about is getting back to you. Every race, every event, I wish you were there with me. You’re not holding me back; you’re the reason I push forward. Because I want to build a future with you, a life where we’re always together. I’ve been a fool not to realize how my absence was affecting you, and for that, I’m so sorry, Y/N."

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but they were tears of relief, of finally hearing the words you had longed to hear for so long. "I just… I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared that one day you’d wake up and realize I wasn’t enough."

Carlos’s eyes softened, his thumb wiping away your tears as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "You are more than enough, mi amor. You are everything. And I promise you, I’m going to spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me. I’ll make more time for us, for you. This summer break, I’m going to show you how much I love you, how much I’m in love with you."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you sniffled, the tension in your chest slowly unraveling. "Even if I want to do silly things?" you asked softly, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to keep the emotions in check. You felt vulnerable, laying your insecurities bare, but there was also a strange sense of relief in finally speaking them aloud.

Carlos smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He gently stroked your hair, his touch soothing. "Yes, cariño. Even if you want to do silly things."

You bit your lip, feeling a little more confident as you continued. "Even if I want to play video games at 2 a.m. or cook some food in the middle of the night because I woke up hungry?"

Carlos chuckled softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Especially that. I’ll be right there with you, heating up the stove or grabbing the controller. Whatever makes you happy, I’m in."

You felt your heart swell with his words, but there was still a small, nagging doubt that you couldn’t quite shake. "And what if I want to go to the beach at 6:30 in the morning to watch the sunrise? Or even go during the sunset to… you know…maybe have beach sex" You trailed off, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the idea you were about to suggest.

Carlos’s smile grew wider, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He gently pulled you closer by the waist, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Especially for that. Beach sex sounds like the perfect way to start or end the day."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and full of relief. "So, you’re really okay with all my crazy ideas?"

Carlos pulled back slightly, his expression turning serious as he cupped your face in his hands once more. "Y/N, I love everything about you. Your quirks, your spontaneity, the way you think about the little things that make life more fun. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. You make my life better in every way, and I want to be a part of all your crazy ideas. As long as we’re together, I’m happy."

His words wrapped around your heart, soothing every lingering fear and doubt that had been gnawing at you. The tears that had welled up earlier now flowed freely, but this time, they were tears of happiness, of gratitude, of love.

"I love you so much, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Carlos leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that spoke of all the love he had for you. His hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch of space between you. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment of intimacy.

"I love you too, Y/N," Carlos murmured, his voice low and full of sincerity. "More than you’ll ever know."

You smiled softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in months. "Thank you for standing up for me back there. I’ve never seen you like that before."

Carlos sighed, his expression darkening slightly as he remembered the confrontation with the reporter. "I’m sorry you had to hear that. I hate that people talk about you like that, as if you’re not the most important person in my life. I won’t let anyone disrespect you like that ever again."

You gently placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "It’s okay, Carlos. You don’t have to fight every battle for me. I’m stronger than I look."

Carlos chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. "I know you are, cariño. But I’ll still protect you whenever I can. That’s what a man does for the woman he loves."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings reflected in them. This was the man you had fallen in love with, the man who would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy. And in that moment, all your fears and insecurities seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment.

"Do you really mean it?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "When you said I’m your future wife?"

Carlos’s expression softened, and he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Yes, mi amor. I meant every word. I see a future with you, a life where we’re together, where we build something beautiful. I want to marry you, have a family with you, grow old with you. You’re it for me, Y/N."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you believe that everything he said was true. A tear slipped down your cheek, and Carlos quickly wiped it away with his thumb, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that," you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. "I’ve been so scared, Carlos. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I’m not enough for you."

Carlos shook his head, his eyes filled with love and determination. "No, cariño. You are more than enough. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and more. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner how my actions were making you feel. But I promise you, from now on, I’ll make sure you never have to doubt my love for you again."

You smiled through your tears, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Thank you, Carlos. Thank you for loving me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Always, mi amor. Always."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he held you close. The doubts that had plagued you for so long seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of certainty that you hadn’t felt before. Carlos loved you, truly and deeply, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully believe it.

After a few moments of silence, Carlos pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "So, about that beach idea…"

You laughed, feeling a sense of lightness return to the conversation. "You really want to do that?"

Carlos grinned, his expression mischievous. "With you? Absolutely. I’m down for anything you want, cariño. Especially if it means spending more time with you."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you, Carlos."

He smiled against your lips, his hands gently caressing your back. "And I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @goldenroutledge

[trippinsorrows]

ltye + gym time

authors: this was inspired by a request/suggestion by @romansthrone we all know smut is hit or miss for me, but this felt very much like something that needed to be done, so here we are. i.e. idk wtf this is, but we're just going with it, friends.

warnings: smut

words: 2k

gif belongs to @romanreigns (don't know why the stupid tag never works smh)

Solana has come to enjoy training. Come to enjoy feeling herself growing stronger: mentally and physically. It’s a different but welcomed experience. So, it’s no big deal to her when Bayley and Naomi text that they’re stuck in traffic due to a bad accident that essentially shut down the interstate. Knowing they’re going to be more than just a couple minutes late, they instruct her to get started on her stretching until they get there. Not a big deal.

She’s confident enough to do that all on her own.

But therein lies the issue.

She’s not alone.

Because walking into the home gym, she’s met with none other than the hulking 6’3 frame of her husband who’s in the middle of a bench press.

“Oh.”

Solana was unaware of the fact that Roman planned to come back home after leaving their bed around 7am this morning. She figured he’d get his workout in elsewhere, maybe the Warehouse. Not at their home though. Especially not when she needs the space to train.

But her reaction is not one of anger or irritation. It’s something…..else. Something that’s solely driven by the fact that Roman’s physique is something crafted by the Gods themselves. His massive shoulders and bulging biceps are on full display in the sleeveless dri-fit workout top, and she would never admit it out loud, but it’s hard for her eyes not to focus on the bulge that’s pressing against his workout shorts as he pushes his muscles—and her self-control—to the limit.

It’s only when he goes to sit up that she redirects her attention to another machine. Anything to hide the truth of what she was really staring at.

“I—” She clears her throat. “I—I have training today.” Solana grips her water bottle, tightly, as she forces her gaze back on him. Her stomach caves in just ever so slightly watching him stand up and walk over to her. “I—I need to stretch.” Something flashes in Roman’s eyes, something she recognizes but refuses to feed into. “Bay—Bayley and Naomi. They’re—they’re running late.”

“Mmmm.” Her body is practically on fire under his intense gaze, the way his eyes can’t seem to decide if they wanna focus on her face or her chest. “How late?”

But, it’s that question that makes Solana realize she has to take some control. Stepping to the side of him, she moves over to the area with matts that face a section of mirrored walls. “I—I won’t bother you.”

She hears Roman behind her. Sees through the mirror how he can’t seem to rip his eyes from her ass. “You never bother me, Solana.” It’s an almost sweet sentiment that makes her smile a bit until the next part comes out. “But you damn sure distract me……”

No, no, no

Walking back over to him, almost shuffling, she takes a deep breath, doing her best to stay focused and not distracted like him. “Okay, we—we can share this space. I do my stretching and you just….like….do what you do.” She nods and can acknowledge the fact that she’s not sure just who she’s trying to convince. Him or her. “Okay?”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to the side, tongue licking his bottom lip.

Oh my god.

“Okay,” she says over a shaky breath, turning to walk away so she can get started and be done. Maybe she can talk the ladies into training outside today, because it’s clear Roman just got started and won’t be done anytime soon. And his focus seems to be on everything but working out, which is no good for her when she’s also struggling to remember her reason for even coming in here….

To her credit, Solana does well. Ish. Because every so often, she’ll look into the mirror and accidentally catch Roman’s eye. Sometimes, she can tell he was already looking in her direction. Other times, it’s truly a coincidence. Regardless of the reason, it helps her realize one very important thing.

That she’s just as distracted by him as he is by her.

But, she stays strong, stays as focused as possible.

Until she does one too many moves, one too many distracting moves. 

Solana is bent over, hands on her right foot, enjoying the stretch of her limbs, the releasing of all tension in her muscles when she feels it. Feels him.

Solana gasps and shoots upward. Roman is directly behind her, his erection pressed into her ass, his hands on her hips. “Roman!”

“You really expect me to just stand here watching you bend over every which way and not get hard as fuck?” His hand moves to her stomach, bracing her against him. Solana’s hand moves over his as her eyes flutter shut.

“Roman….” The resolve is practically gone, and even she can admit she sounds more needy than anything. That nothing in the way she says his name indicates she wants him to stop, wants him to move away.

“You said you need to stretch, right?” He’s so cruel, the way he shifts behind her, almost teasing his rock hard dick against her ass cheeks at the same time he moves his hand upwards and gropes her breast. “So let me stretch you out.” 

It should be a no. Should be a declined offer. Something that doesn’t result in clothes and plans being discarded in favor of carnal temptations being fulfilled. 

She needs to be ready for training. He needs to lift. 

They had agendas that shouldn’t be altered, but the minute Roman looks at her through the mirror, full lips lifting into a smirk as he slips his hand into her sports bra and gently squeezes her breast, she knows that it’s a wrap. 

And in what feels like only seconds, Roman has her shorts off, her panties somewhere thrown about and her hands planted on the mirrored wall as he thrusts deep into her from behind.

“Roman.” When he’s inside her like this, dick throbbing and pulsing, it seems like the only word in her vocabulary is his name, a couple of profanities, and a few almost slurred indistinguishable sounds that could be words but really aren’t. “Mmmm”

Roman, however, can’t seem to take his eyes off her ass, the way it bounces off his thick dick that’s coated in her essence. “All this body you got, and you really thought I wasn’t going to touch you?” His hand moves to the small of her back, helping to steady her. “Wasn’t going to bury my dick inside you and watch you come apart?”

Solana says nothing, too focused on trying to keep her knees from giving out. Roman’s thrusts are controlled and focused but powerful and profound. It’s hard to keep her arms steady as he drives into her with all the passion and desire.

“P–please—” Eyes crunched up, Solana has the hardest time not screaming, yelling, shouting, anything to release the influx of overwhelming emotions—and pleasure. It hurts, but it doesn’t. It’s good, but it’s amazing. Too much but not enough. He’s giving her everything she needs yet more than what she can handle. “I—ca—” Moving one hand off the glass, she reaches behind her and struggles to get out a logical request. “It’s too—”

At that, he pauses, stops completely, his dick only halfway in her, and she’s never been so annoyed. “Am I hurting you?”

If not for the fact that remembering her name is a struggle with how good he feels inside her right now, Solana would feel a little bad. Would feel guilty for making this man think that anything about how he’s fucking her currently hurts. What hurts is the feel of only a part of his girthy member inside her, teasing her.

“No,” she answers confidently, unsure as to what her goal was in the first damn place. 

“Good.” Solana moans and whimpers as he’s cruelly slow with shifting his hips as he works his way back inside of her. “Then take it, baby.” God, this man is unreal. “You can do it, can’t you, sweetheart? You can take all of me. Just like you did last night.”

Just the memory alone of Roman slamming into her, holding her legs up high and on his shoulders is enough to make her come. To make her finally lose all control and fall to the floor as her orgasm tears through her, hindering her of all autonomous mobility. 

“C’mere.” Once again, she protests when he completely removes himself from her. Solana hates the hollow and empty feeling between her legs. Roman then turns her around, and she gasps as he hikes her on his waist and moves her so that her back is against the wall. 

With one arm supporting her weight, she is both embarrassed and impressed how he manages to position and guide his dick inside her wet, velvety folds. It’s enjoyed and welcomed, but what’s neither of those things is Solana’s thought at him having to hold her up. 

“Ro, I’m—” She bites down on her bottom lip, hands on his shoulder as she rocks into her. “T–too heavy.”

The last thing she wants is this man getting hurt, but the almost insulted expression on his face seems to indicate that’s the last thing on his mind.

Roman’s big hands dig into her hips as he asks with an almost haughtiness. “Do I look weak to you, baby?”

Nothing. Nothing about him screams weak.

And he emphasizes that strength as her head is naturally rocked back against the mirror while  he starts to fuck her from this new position, deeper almost, more intimate. Her breast bouncing against her ribcage from the force of his thrusts. 

Roman groans again, pushing his dick into her, mesmerized by the almost discombobulated expression on her face. He fucking loves how much she loves this. How much she loves the feeling of him inside her almost as much as he loves being inside her. 

“Goddamn, this pussy gripping the shit out of me.” He nips at her neck, hissing as Solana’s short acrylics press into his skin. “Soaking wet and just for me, huh?”

She moans into his shoulder, shaking her head, that stroke of Roman’s ego encouraging him to shift her up higher, this different position just enough to help him find her spot. The evidence in how her whimpers and moans get louder combined with those thick, luscious thighs tightening around him. 

“Love the pretty sounds you make, baby. All fucked out like this on my dick.” Roman is almost certain he could spend the rest of his life fucking his wife and never grow tired, never want to pull out or not experience the majesty of her wet ass pussy. “You gonna let me fuck you like this tonight? Hmm?” It’s a wicked thing to do, Solana thinks to herself. Mean for him to ask her something like that when she’s in no position to deny him. An impossible thing with how good he’s making her feel. “Gonna sit on my face so I can eat that pretty pussy till you’re pushing me away?”

Fuck.

Roman’s filthy talk during intimacy is something she’s certain she’ll never get used to, even if it does make her cunt flutter and throb with need. 

“Y—y–yes, baby.” Because only a fool denies a god. “Oh, shit, right there—”

“Damn straight.” He squeezes her ass, wishing he’d taken her top off. He loves her titties almost as much as he loves her ass and wishes he could have them in his mouth right now. “My sweet girl letting me take care of her.”

And take care of her does he. In every way, especially like this. Always like this. 

Solana holds onto him, clutches him close as he continues to talk her through it. The perfect combination of nice and nasty, tugging and pulling her closer and closer to her limit, to that edge where stars are the only thing she can see as a burst of intense, almost painful pleasure shoots through her, making her hold him even tighter. Roman’s tender voice is in her ear, encouraging her to ride it out, to let him fill her up as his own release arrives over him. 

He’s gentle in the way he   pulls out of her, uncaring of the cum, both his and hers, that saturates his dick. He’s too focused on the excitement at watching it spill down in between her legs and the way she continues to hold him, clearly unable to stand and walk on her own.

Solana lays her forehead against his chest, panting, “that—that was—”

“Always is,” his smart reply is also accurate. Intimacy with her has easily become one of his top three favorite pastimes. Her pussy is fucking addictive. Smirking, he does his best to ignore the fact that he’s still technically semi-hard and could absolutely prop her right back on his dick. Kissing the top of her head, he dances his fingers across her lower back, half-joking, half serious when he suggests, “you should let me stretch you out more often.”

[httpsserene]

virtual racing bootcamp — 𝐦𝐯. 𝟏 max verstappen x fem!black!reader 2k words. fluff. brain vomit. tiniest explicit reference. not edited.

synopsis: you start showing interest in sim racing. max's only option is to turn you into the best virtual-racer there ever was--well besides himself, of course.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. thought about this the whole time i was working.

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

you were probably unaware that sim racing was even a thing until you started dating max

like you’ve seen the funny little twitch clips of people playing driving simulators and being absolute menaces on the road, but you never knew actual virtual racing was a thing

anyways, whether or not you consider yourself a gamer in this scenario, you’ve always been pretty down to play videogames with max.

he absolutely annihilates you in FIFA, and no matter how much he tries to help you, you’re a lost cause

in return, you embarrass him in COD; he should’ve looked at your kd-ratio before he tried to play with you

but, sim racing 🧐

i mean, like, you never even fully considered that you could sim race at all, like not for leisure at least

max takes that shit seriously, he’s a part-time f1 driver full time simracing twitch streamer 😤

you are always around watching him practice on the sim, playing the f1 games, and even tuning in for his iracing competitions

at first, whenever max would stream you would probably be doing other things with your time

your hair, cleaning, self-care, cooking, etc.

eventually, you started migrating to sitting on the couch off-camera and watching him drive irl instead of having the stream on in the background

you were originally like, “oh it’s just because i wanna drool over his massive veiny hands” 🤤

but now it’s like “oh i wonder what each button he presses with his nicely proportioned fingers on the steering wheel does?”

and slowly it transforms from “wow my boyfriend is so cool” to “wait…this sim-racing thing is kinda cool”😵‍💫

now imagine you being like “lol wait a minute now” and being like i'm only interested in because my boyfriend loves it 🤥

in order to disprove this theory you start to ask max questions about virtual racing

not that you wouldn’t before, but they were fairly surface level; now you’re asking him about tactics, strategies, and track conditions etc.

and max is fucking thrilled 🫨🫨🫨 !!!

he eagerly answers all your questions (maxplaning 🥱), going way more into depth than you were expecting, but what did you think was going to happen

max is always happy to ramble about any small facet of virtual racing (doesn’t matter if it’s the sim, or iracing, or f1 2023) but

it makes him really pleased that you’re showing a genuine interest in it because most people don’t

you support him in anything he wants to do wholeheartedly, and listening and answering your well thought out questions has him falling head over heels for you again

so, he thinks nothing of it other than you being the best girlfriend he’s ever had and trying to learn more about what he loves

his previous girlfriends didn’t really care to understand how important vr racing was to him

they all just saw it as him playing a “game” and him wasting time when they could’ve been on dates or smth

anyways

everything is going fine and dandier, max continues to answer all of your vr racing questions, and you continue to watch him pilot the sim

until, he catches you watching a beginner’s guide on f1 2023 and get’s so jealous 😒

bro is all like “wtf, you’re watching some lame ass unranked gamer when i’m your professional driver boyfriend who does this for a living?? hell nah if you want to start playing i’ll teach you”

you’re just like, “nahhhh….i don’t want to waste your time trying to teach me, it’s not worth it. i’m not even a good driver irl, so—“

max shuts that down expeditiously

if his girlfriend wants to start vr racing, he only has one option

make you the best virtual racer there ever was (excluding him)

you’re wide-eyed like, “i just wanna go vroom vroom in circles for fun 😭”

max deathly serious, “that was never an option”

he enlists you in his virtual-racing training camp

if you are aware of the disney rapid training montage where the mc sings one song and suddenly they’re the best fighter ever, that’s how i imagined it

mulan, for example, i’ll make a man out of you

max reveals his inner george russell, he becomes a power point king

instead of date nights being cute pottery classes—they turn into him teaching you the parts of the car, the buttons on the wheel, f1 2023 settings breakdowns, reviewing iracing competitions etc.

eventually max finally allows you to play on the sim after he thinks you’ve got the theory down pretty good

you suck at first 🤗

but then you start clocking in some hours

after work, during your “lunch break”, using the sim while max is gone and playing during all the practice and media sessions

whenever max is gone, and you have any questions or ask for feedback on how to get better, you text him all about it, of course not expecting an immediate response back

max has told you before that he likes getting out of the car after a practice session and checking his phone to see all the missed messages from you with some wishing him luck and the others asking for his thoughts on your strategies

one day, he’s going for lunch with some of the other drivers and they start to make fun of him for how he’s stuck in his phone, heart-eyes and all as he rapidly texts you

they probably think that you’re sending him cute texts or photos like that one time they caught him looking at photos of you and learned he had a locked photo album of you on his phone ☠️

max remains unbothered under their teasing thinking, “they don’t know my gf can out pace them by .200 in f1 2023”

max even personally bothers christian into getting him another sim for you

christian is so tired of you two, max won’t leave him ALONE

i think max would text his team principal screenshots of your lap times and make jokes about it

“if checo keeps dnf-ing, my gf can fill in”

christian gets you the goddamn sim 😒

y’all procrastinate on building and calibrating it, max more so because it means his chair would stop smelling like you 🥺

you get it set up, but you still play on his sim every once in a while after he told you that because you’re a simp

he goes to stream one day, planning on practicing with the redline team for an upcoming iracing event

and the man almost BREAKS HIS LEGS trying to sit down because you forgot to move the chair back after you were done using it 😭😭

in between his groan of pain he let’s it slip “ow fuck, my girlfriend forgot to move the seat back after she was done”

chat goes ducking crazy

yooo, what? ur gf sim races???

is she good???

max is like “hell fucking yeah my girlfriend is great sim racer, she could replace one of the boys at redline if she wanted too!”

(team redline sweats anxiously, mics now suspiciously silent)

max continues, “well she is not as great as me, but she’s good i guess”

stream chat “they are going to have babies that completely dominate f1” “if their babies are born in the netherlands we will be stuck in purgatory cursed with hearing the dutch anthem forever”

max continues with his practice but everyone is begging to see you play, even some of the redline guys are asking questions

they wanna know if they’re really at risk of you stealing their seat

max gives up and turns to you on the couch with a smile and says, “i will beg, schatje. do not put it past me, we all want to see you drive. some people are saying i’m lying so you have to prove them wrong🙇🏼”

you’re like “what 😅 no 😧i suck 🤭 at this 🤗” but you’re already getting up and walking over to boot up your sim

the urge to flex on people and embarrass them is something both you and max share

max opens f1 2023 and starts a party for just you two, and you both decide to do quali laps at zandovoort

you do your hot lap first, and max goes after you

max y’ know, probably thinks that he can take it relatively easier on you, there’s no reason to put 100% effort into something for fun, so he puts in 95% 😀 (competitive boy)

and you know that one nepenthez meme

that’s how this goes

max is like, already rambling to the stream “yeah that’s a comfortable p1, she still has a lot to learn before she can beat a world champ—P2??!!!! 😧😳”

you’re just in the background in your sim chair, turned facing the camera with an innocent little smirk smile on your face ☺️

you got pole by .050, and chat starts bullying max, the redline boys laughing hysterically in his headphones

max requests a rematch and promptly annihilates you :)

i like to imagine that eventually you start joining max’s stream and the two of yous start having little racing tournaments whenever you guys have the time

omg could you imagine the little championship ceremony where you put party hats on jimmy and sassy and have fake little tiny gold trophies for whoever wins 🥹

imagine one day ‼️ you actually start doing iracing events, and just working your way up to being one of the best 😌

ANYWAYS to wrap it up, best teacher max ever

virtual racing 🤝 strong relationships

twitter • today

instagram • maxverstappen1 • 32 mins ago

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo3, and 7,324,122 ofhers

maxverstappen1 the only woman for me 🧎🏼

tagged yninstagram

view comments

yninstagram baby. baby—😭😭😭😭

➥ maxverstappen1 i love you

➥ yninstagram what the fuck has gotten into you 😳 i love you, maxy 🫶🏽

user the way ‼️ he cradles ‼️ her head 😭😭

danielricciardo3 this genuinely the sappiest thing max has ever said

➥ maxverstappen1 do not worry daniel you are the only man for me

➥ user my therapist will be hearing about this

user the fact that max personally handmade that meme 💀

user never thought i’d see the day that max uses the kneeling emoji

➥ maxverstappen1 i’m on my knees for her more often than you think

➥ user alRIGHT go ahead and clock out for me 😒

➥ redbullracingf1 do you remember the media training we had two days ago, max?

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[bella-rose29]

Domestic Sweetness - part 3

the final part! this was originally going to be about 1.5k and then last week I sat down and wrote 2k words oops...

word count: 3.7k (wtf)

warnings: swearing? mentions of periods, I think that's it??? lockwood hurts himself again but idk that that counts as a warning tbh

mini series master list

lco master list

You were just waking up when the doorbell rang. 

Huffing, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and winced at the cold air meeting your skin. The doorbell rang again, a little more insistent this time, and you yelled down the stairs. “Alright, I’ll be there in a minute!” Frantically pulling on a grey hoodie and zipping it up, you searched for some trousers that were comfy but didn’t look like they had just been pulled out of the wash, and then nearly fell down the steps as the long legs caught and tangled around your feet. Biting back a groan at the pain you were in you plastered on a smile and opened the door.

There was nobody there. 

At least, there was nobody stood on the front step - Anthony Lockwood’s body could be seen running down the street, his coat flapping out behind him as he sprinted. He skidded to a halt for barely a moment before he was running again, this time back towards where you stood in the doorway with an expression of confusion on your face. “Sorry!” he panted from where he stood slightly hunched over and grinning by the gate. “I made a thing but I left it at thingy’s house and- yeah. Back in a tick!”

He was off again, somehow running even faster than he had before, and it took your brain a while to catch up. “Right…” you muttered. Perhaps it would be easier if you went and laid down in the warm instead of standing in the doorway. Lockwood could let himself in and besides, your cramps were killing you. You thought about making a hot drink but the effort of it felt too much, so you curled up on the sofa by the window with a blanket and the remainder of the heat from the hot water bottle you had prepared earlier to wait for Lockwood. 

~~~

When Lockwood finally made it back to your house, huffing and puffing while balancing the retrieved cake box and thermos, nobody answered the door. 

He couldn’t see your family car parked on the tiny strip of land called your driveway, so he assumed that it was only you in the house and rang the doorbell again, pressing the button down with his nose since his hands were full and he didn’t want to drop anything. Waiting a full minute and a half (he could just about see his wristwatch from his position), Lockwood decided he would just open the door. Your parents had given him a key to the house a while ago since he was over there so much, and he knew that you wouldn’t mind him making himself at home. After struggling a little to balance everything (he spilled some tea on himself and cursed rather loudly), he kicked the door closed behind him and called out to you once more. Moving towards the kitchen at the back of the house he peered in the living room on his way past, halting abruptly upon seeing you curled up asleep on the sofa, blanket covering your body while a hot water bottle threatened to drop from your loose grasp. He smiled, exhaling softly in content at the peaceful expression on your face, and headed for the kitchen again. 

He spent the next five minutes sorting things out for when you woke up. The thermos of tea was placed on the side table next to where you lay, and the cake he’d baked was on the side in its box ready for when you wanted something to eat. He boiled the kettle to refill your hot water bottle too, because when he’d gone to readjust it in your arms he’d realised there was barely any heat radiating from it. 

On returning to the living room for the final time, fresh tea in the pot and sitting on the coffee table, Lockwood carefully clambered onto the sofa behind you, making sure he didn’t knock you with any of his limbs. You sighed in your sleep, letting out a small grunt when Lockwood accidentally elbowed your head, and he pressed a small and lingering kiss to the place of injury once he had settled. He pulled the blanket up and checked that the hot water bottle wouldn’t scald you, then wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you into his chest. His fingers threaded through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp, while his other hand was firm around your waist to stop you from falling off the sofa. 

“Lockwood?” Damn, he’d woken you up. 

“Hi, darling. You alright?” he whispered, pressing another kiss to your head. You mumbled a response that he couldn’t quite make out, but before he could ask what you’d said you were snoozing again, nestling further into his chest and bringing an arm up to rest on his stomach. 

He could spend the rest of his life like this, he was sure of it. Sure, the position was slightly awkward, and he was certain that his shoulder was far too bony for you to be comfortable, but it was just the two of you. Under this blanket (Lucy had crocheted it for you and then made you swear not to use it because she would practice and make you a better one, but you had proclaimed that it was your favourite thing ever and had promptly shrouded yourself in it), nothing else mattered. Not the Problem, not his debts, not the threat of Relic men or other agents wanting him dead. Not even the wash that he’d put on before he’d left and would have to hang out later. Maybe he’d get lucky and George would do it.

He was basking in the peace of the living room when he felt you shiver. You tried playing it off as snuggling further into his chest, but Lockwood was far too attuned to your behaviour now and he lifted your head up so that he could look you in the face. “Are you cold, darling?”

“…No.”

“Hmm, very convincing,” he snorted, pressing a kiss to the end of your nose. “I can put the fire on if you like?”

“You really don’t have to, Lockwood.”

“Consider that I want to? Besides, we both know how good I am at setting fires.” His grin was wide, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up.

“If you’re sure. I’m really not that cold.” You didn’t help your case much by immediately shivering again, and when you looked up at Lockwood again he could see that you knew it. “Ugh, fine. Put the fire on.” Lockwood clambered out from behind you and unceremoniously landed with a thump on the floor, teetering backwards for a moment and threatening to fall on the coffee table. “Fucking hell, Lockwood, you couldn’t have done that in a better way?”

“It’s not my fault I’m built like a baby giraffe,” he replied, pushing himself upright again by bracing a hand on the coffee table. “I think I’m having another growth spurt too; my limbs feel longer than normal.” He stuck a leg out in front of him to inspect it.

“You sure you’re not just having another aftershock from a weird dream about long limbs?” Lockwood let out an outraged scoff as he crouched in front of the fire.

“That was one time! And the only reason I had aftershocks was because of how vividly I dreamed that my arms and legs were three foot longer than normal! It was like I was having… phantom limbs or something.” He shuddered at the memory. “Anyway, you should try getting off that sofa from the position I was in! I doubt you could do much better.” He built up the kindling and added some bigger logs, then picked up the box of matches from the mantlepiece where it was hidden among birthday cards for a family member.

“I probably could,” you mused, wrapping the blanket tight around your body. “I am not the one built like a baby giraffe.”

“That’s true. You’re more of a-” Lockwood paused, striking the match and watching it light. “More of a…”

“Are you planning on insulting me, Lockwood? You’re taking a long time to answer.”

“I would never insult you, my love. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?!”

“You totally would.” You had barely finished talking before he was sighing in defeat.

“Yeah I would.” You snorted, the sound making the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he turned back to see you sat upright on the sofa. You looked ridiculously comfy in your oversized hoodie (he thought he recognised it as one from his drawers back home) and the blanket bunched up around you like a- “Hedgehog.”

You blinked, squinting at him in confusion. “What… what about them?”

“You’re more of a hedgehog.” He pushed up off the floor, satisfied that he could leave the fire now, and brushed his hands together to rid them of wood shavings. “You’re sat in a little nest and if I poke you in the stomach then you’ll probably stretch your arms out and spike me with a stick.”

“A stick?”

“Yeah. Well, you don’t actually have spikes because you’re a human being not an actual hedgehog, so… I imagine,” he grunted at that point, attempting to clamber onto the sofa again, “you would just pick up the closest sharp object and- oof!” He doubled over, whacking his forehead on the hard back of the sofa while his knees buckled, and his arms contorted in painful ways so that he didn’t land his full body weight on you. 

He tried to be mad, he really did, but it was oh so difficult when he glanced to the side - face still smushed into the back of the sofa - and caught sight of the grin spread across your cheeks. “I hate that I can’t even be angry with you,” he said, although it was significantly more muffled than normal. 

“You walked into it, Lockwood, calling me a spiky hedgehog. What was I meant to do, not hit you in the stomach?”

“That would have been preferable, actually.” He peeled his cheek away from the fabric, manoeuvring his limbs carefully around you. “Then I wouldn’t have damaged my beautiful face.”

“Your beautiful face?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he replied, a scandalised tone to his voice as he slid an arm under you. “Do you not think my face is beautiful?!”

“I think your face is perfectly average.”

“Rude.”

“Giraffe Boy.”

“Double rude.” He finally finished settling down again, pulling the blankets over the pair of you and letting his free arm sit on top. “Wait. What does me being giraffe-like have to do with my face?”

“I dunno,” you responded, peering up at his face and bringing a finger up to brush away some soot that had somehow made its way there. “I’m tired.” Lockwood dropped his outraged act, softening under your touch on his face and letting you work away the soot. 

“Understandable. Have you done much today?” You shook your head, studying his face for another few seconds before deciding you were satisfied with your work. 

“Stayed in bed, mostly. It’s not one of my work days so I slept in, and then I couldn’t move much so I figured I would stay there.” Your hand moved back towards your chest, curling up against Lockwood’s collar. “You been busy today?”

“Baked a cake.” His voice was quiet as your other hand started tracing patterns on his arm over the blankets. He had the grey hoodie on that he knew you so desperately wanted to steal, and while getting the fire ready he had pushed the sleeves up.

“A cake?”

He hummed his confirmation, and when you looked up at him again he had his eyes closed. “It’s in the kitchen.”

“You… you baked me a cake?” He couldn’t see you, but he heard the slight wobble in your voice and mistook it for worry.

“You don’t have to eat it, not if you don’t want to. I know I’m not the best at baking so I would totally understand if you thought it might kill you and avoided it.” He moved his trapped arm a little higher, frowning at the weight of you pressing uncomfortably on his shoulder, and finally rested with it behind your neck. His fingers absentmindedly twisted in your hair, gently threading through the strands of it in time with your patterns on his arm. 

When he hadn’t heard any reply he cracked open an eyelid, and almost started at the sight of you fighting back tears. “Darling, what’s wrong? You really don’t have to eat the cake, I know what happened last time.”

“No, it’s not that, Lockwood.” You paused. “Although, if it’s going to make me need four gallons of water then I would rather not.” He laughed a little at the memory of his last attempt at baking and your subsequent reaction (“It’s very… dry. Are you sure there’s anything other than just… flour and cocoa powder?”). “Just, you didn’t have to do any of this, Lockwood. You’re stupidly and annoyingly nice.”

“And that’s… making you cry?”

“I’m on my period. I’m hormonal.” Your glare was enough to make him back off. He didn’t feel like dying today, not when he’d finally decided he wanted to stay alive.

“Fair enough, love. Did you want some cake?”

“Did George help?”

“…No.” You wrinkled your nose before realising he was watching you, and then your expression morphed into something sheepish. “It’s not as dry this time?”

“Just a little bit, then. I haven’t got much of an appetite today, but you did bring it all the way here.”

“Give me a few minutes, then. Oh, thank you,” he said as you swung your legs sideways and sat up to let him off the sofa. 

He had just made it into the kitchen and got two plates out of the cupboard when the phone rang, the shrill sound of it piercing the air and making him jump. “Do you want me to get it?” he called, taking the lid off of his cake box and smiling proudly at how intact it was. 

“No, I’ve got it!” Lockwood located the cake slice in one of the pots on the counters, carefully cutting pieces of cake for you both. Faintly he heard you talking on the phone, your voice quiet from fatigue. He finished up in the kitchen, washing the cake slice, securing the lid back on the tupperware, and picking up the plates. You were in the hallway, smiling softly while whoever was on the line chattered away. Lockwood moved into the living room, placing the plates on the small side table next to the sofa you had been sitting on, and headed back into the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

You frowned for a moment, your gaze slowly drifting to Lockwood, and from where he had rested his head against the frame it took him a moment to register it as confusion, not anger. You were at a funny angle, the whole world tilted while he stood there and watched as the crease between your brows grew and your eyes flitted over his face, trying to work out what was going on. 

“Who is it?” he whispered, gesturing with a finger to the phone. 

“Grandma,” you mouthed back, frown not disappearing. Lockwood had never met your grandma, but he knew that the pair of you were very close. He was just about to ask another question when you opened your own mouth. “Did you get a name?” You said out loud, still staring at Lockwood, but this time with more realisation than confusion. Lockwood heard a response being given, but not what it was, and his curiosity only grew when your face split into a large grin. “Anthony Lockwood?”

“What?” He had said that out loud, snapping his head upright to stare quizzically at you, but in his defence he had just been mentioned in a conversation he only had one side to, and the other half was a lady he had never even met before. 

“Yeah I know him, Grandma. Do you not remember me telling you about his agency?” He flushed a little at that; normally when someone brought up his work he would plaster on the charm and act as though he were made for fame, but it was different with you. You called him a baby giraffe and hit him in the stomach, and laughed when he walked dead into a lamppost. You didn’t care about the fame, and you talked about him to your family. “Yeah, that’s the one. I- oh, was that Alfredo?”

Lockwood frowned now, vaguely recognising the name but not knowing where from. An agent he’d met recently, perhaps? No, that didn’t seem right. 

“How’s he doing? I know he was sick last week.” A cousin? Or family friend? Maybe the name of your grandma’s latest beau? “Oh, did he? Huh. Wouldn’t have thought a chicken would do that, but if he’s better then that’s great!” A chicken? Alfredo was a chicken?? Why did that sound so familiar to Lockwood? And why couldn’t he remember why it was familiar? “Right. No, of course. How’s Sally? Oh that’s good. I was worried about her last time I visited. No, Grandma, I’m not gonna come visit you now, I- yes, I know you live just down the other end.” You sighed, pressing the hand that wasn’t holding the phone into your forehead. “No I’m not dragging him down the street so you can verify that he’s the same guy you spoke to on the bus, it’s cold.”

Realisation hit Lockwood with more force than a freight train. “Wait,” he said, pushing off of the doorframe and taking a step towards you. “Is your grandma called Ethel?”

You moved the phone away from your mouth, covering the bottom with your hand. “Yeah. Did I not tell you that?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember. She sat next to me on the bus here. Told me all about her pets and how her granddaughter never stopped talking about my company.” He was grinning now, revelling in the flush on your face. 

“I just like to keep her up to date, is all.”

“Sure. Up to date with one specific agency,” he chuckled, stepping closer. You stuck your tongue out at him and put the phone back to your ear, gracefully flipping him off at the same time. 

“Hm? Oh, the line broke up a little, sorry. What were you saying?” Lockwood leaned back against the cabinet the phone sat on, holding his arms out for you to step into while you finished up your call. You gave up ignoring him after a few seconds, sagging into his hold and letting him support some of your weight. He could tell that being on your feet for so long was draining you, and he hoped he could find some painkillers somewhere in the mess that was your bathroom cabinet. “Lockwood? He’s right next to me. Did you want to- oh, okay.” You laughed, and Lockwood felt the vibrations in his chest. “Yeah, I’ll let him know. Alright, well I should go. I’ve got cake to try and tea that’s sat going cold, so I’ll speak to you tomorrow? I love you too. Okay. Bye, bye.” You put the phone down, the little bell tinkling for a moment before going quiet again. “She says you’re welcome any time, by the way. Seemed quite desperate for it,” you laughed. Lockwood laughed with you, a soft hum in his throat, and noticed that you were relying more heavily on him to hold you up. 

“Do you want to go and sit down, darling?” At your sleepy nod, Lockwood slowly stood upright again, keeping his arms around you so that you didn’t topple over backwards. It was awkward, the walk back to the sofa, the two of you shuffling across the hallway like zombies, but once back under the blankets and with plates of cake in hand Lockwood felt you relax once more. You would be falling asleep on him very soon and then he wouldn’t be able to move anywhere, but he didn’t mind. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots on the bus.”

“You were too busy talking about your wonderful, incredible, gorgeous girlfriend, by the sounds of it.” You were cautiously lifting a forkful of cake towards your face, studying it for a moment before putting it in your mouth. 

Lockwood would have given some smart reply to your comment, but he found he was more anxious for your judgement of his baking. He was practically vibrating while he waited, watching you chew with an impassive expression. You swallowed, and Lockwood held his breath. “Much better than the last one! Consider me impressed, Lockwood.” He beamed, making you smile in response, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before starting on his own slice.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” You shook your head, shovelling in another forkful of cake. 

“I’m not, I promise. It’s actually surprisingly good,” you replied once the cake had gone down. Within a minute the rest was gone, your plate back on the table and your body nestled into Lockwood’s side as he finished his own cake and laid back down again. 

He could feel your body slowly giving in to sleep, and shifted his shoulder under your head before you gave up resisting and fell unconscious. “Sorry,” he muttered, repositioning you against his body so that he could comfortably lie there for a few hours while you slept. “There. Comfy?” He felt you nod against his chest, the top of your head bumping the bottom of his chin, and he smiled softly. He closed his eyes, savouring the smell of your shampoo mixed with the slight musty smell of the blankets and sofa, and the warmth of your body on his and the heat from the fire. 

You murmured something against his chest, quiet and slurred with sleep, but he caught it anyway. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlitcanvas, @cielooci, @35-portlandxrow, @laumire, @isimpfor-everyone, @furblrwurblr, @midnight--raine, @anniemay4557

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, and of COURSE @oblivious-idiot for the request

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

[brisquad-unit-4402]

do you have any tips for world building in writing fictions, unit 4402? -🍰

the easy answer: i write down sudden ideas and things that inspire me asap on my phone with no rhyme or reason, decide which idea reminds me of what character/world/scene/etc, and then connect the dots as i write

the long answer: is rlly in depth and i could do a whole 2k word post on it but i'll see how on topic i can be. this is very rambly and i hope i get my thoughts across correctly 🙏 i love yapping about the writing process a little too much

☆ it's also worth mentioning that even though this is targeted towards writers, feel free to translate it into art or any other medium if it makes sense to you

first of all, don't get obsessed

this is when you get so invested with each tiny blink-and-you-miss-it detail of the world that

you get decision paralysis when you need the plot to move based on a niche new worldbuilding aspect

checking notes wastes more time than actually writing

the world takes priority over the actual story you want to tell

you get exhausted!! if you expend all your energy highlighting little details of the world, it's going to drain you of your motivation to write, which ends in disappointment...

all of these culminate into a writer getting too lost in their world to actually get to writing. you can have the most intricate au world, but your notes are supplemental to the story you want to tell, and NOT the main focus.

always remember that if you get tired of things in your world... how necessary is it? scratch out the aspects that are annoying to remember, you don't care much for, or fully don't remember. if you're not excited about the things you want to explore, it'll feel unexciting as you write it, and unexciting as you read it. i will always be an advocate for writing self-indulgently because an audience, if you want one, will always form around what stories make YOU, the writer, happy. a writer's enthusiasm and care really can shine through text. it's why fanfiction is so beloved.

but like, since we're asking tips here's the actual unit 4402 methods under the cut

getting inspiration

i have a private discord server where i write down everything that inspires me in the moment. i also havw a google doc full of ideas. "inspiration" is a word that seems so much bigger than its actual meaning because it can be as simple as a keyword, a line of dialogue, a picture, a texture or sensation, literally anything thay gets the brain going

WRITE THESE DOWN. you will not remember them later. trust me bro

and more importantly it gives you a clue on what you'd like to write. yes, the scene you can't wait to write is included here

the ideas ur most invested in is the core of everything else in the story including the world. the world is built to relate to that core. whether the world supports it (ex. a prophesy hero empowered by the magic system), opposes it (ex. a protagonist with a taboo secret) or otherwise, the world will always have an effect on how the characters or plot moves forward

visualization, imagery, and aesthetics

(update) tone, mood and physics

i can't believe i forgot to mention this!!! this is one of the first things i decide on when i'm writing a new world!!

the way i see it, tone is the way you (as a writer) want to tell the story. as a writer you can bias how a character feels because of perspective. if you've ever had a moment where you're reading an x reader fanfic and you go "hey wtf, that's cute but i'd never do what reader's doing," that's an instance where you can see the tone! i think i have a few fics where the narrative tone affects the story, i think this zali sickfic + secret confession fic is a decent example. bc the pov is focused on zali, the reader's internal thoughts aren't mentioned. zali doesn't know reader's true feelings so the fic has this nervous pining tone to it

meanwhile mood is how the characters or reader receives info and their reactions to it. you might recognize this in rom coms or some types of dubcon/cnc fanfic where something creepy irl is treated as endearing (mood), since the author wants to make it appealing (tone). if you read lovecraftian horror you can also see it in how the author will describe something as mundane as a door creaking but the actual prose makes it sound menacing af. in these instances this is how you can make basic actions (door opening, surprise confessions, etc) have a different emotional/detail weight that helps your world feel more in line with what you'd like to bring out

so using these in worldbuilding. i'm a big prose/syntax geek so i like to use tone and mood, which are usually associated as narrative devices, as a way to emphasize major parts of your world. for example, a character can be blasé or passionate about an aspect of their society, which can contrast the importance of that aspect on the character vs. the importance of that aspect on the society

one of the most important things in any world at all is PHYSICS and it sounds so much more menacing than it actually is. i literally just ask myself if physics are realistic or cartoony.

realistic physic settings are just like irl: people die with one good slash by sword, people can only jump a little into the air, etc. it's totally possible to have fantasy, sci fi, supernatural, etc. elements here but they usually come with a justification. if you've ever heard of those dragon designs where they have a specific organ in their mouth that shoots a flammable substance and lights it to creage fire breath, that's an example of realistic physics. i think attsck on titan and a lot of comics like batman fall into this type as well as any other realistic fiction like horimiya, a silent voice, etc

meanwhile cartoony physics will casually break realistic physics and we as readers accept that. characters have feats of superhuman abilities thay don't go explained or their explanations don't apply to real world expectations, that sort of thing. because wacky physics are common and treated as normal the readers will accept this. some good examples are cartoons (duh) like looney tunes, mario games, sonny brisko's lore video, etc

ofc there's different sides to the spectrum but imo, you gotta define the expectation of physics in your world as early as you can. if it's a story with lighthearted physics and reasoning behind feats THEN YOU DON'T NEED TO EXPLAIN YOURSELFFFFFFF.

like!! you can just say "here's a demon fruit that gives you wacky powers when you eat it but eating a second one Will make you pass away, have fun" and then you don't have to figure out how your body accomodates to having wacky stretchy limbs nor how your body recognizes it should keel over and die when you eat a second fruit. (i've never seen 1 piece.) we just accept that because one piece is weird as fuck but in-verse, these things are so normal!!

but make sure to balance your pace with avoiding exhaustion. just because a world follows realistic logic, you don't need to write down every single anatomical fact of how abilities are formed and whatever. if you've ever seen transformers, the robots can naturally shapeshift into machines like cars and this is because they're made up of all these different mechanical parts that can adjust as needed. however, the writers really don't need to write down every single part of a transformer and what other parts its connected to, that's just exhausting. and keeping it ambiguous is cool af. because then you can say a robot can turn into cars, boomboxes, guns, toasters...

similarly in cartoony settings, getting thoughtful about real world application of abilities can give you some really cool, creative stuff. take avatar the last airbender waterbending; most people would assume waterbending only covers rivers, rain, oceans, etc. but adept waterbenders can use their own sweat as a resource. this is all dope as hell but the same warning about overexertion applies, if you spend too much time thinking about what qualifies under the setting that can cut into the energy you have for writing

figuring out all three of these is huge for any part of the world. physics is the basis of any magic, superpower, etc. system. whenever i start a ttrpg campaign with other folx (group storytelling!) i always ask the game master the tone or vibe of the campaign. usually they'll say how jokey or serious the story is, how dark they expect it to get, content warnings if needed... these all contribute to how the players should behave. aka, how the characters should behave in a world! and this goes for writers, too: these questions and answers can fuel the likelihood or severity of character injury/death, how much room there is for humor and if/when it should pause for emotional moments, and so forth

i'm a really visual person! so this tip is geared towards visual learners! moodboards are super helpful when you're getting the basics of a world down because they give you an idea of the tone, mood, motivations and more just on how the world looks, feels, sounds, etc. key to note though: this includes all senses!! a gothic castle in a zombie story hits completely different than a gothic castle in a royal romance. chances are you're imagining

the zombie castle: smells like rot, little to no food or resources in the castle, unable to keep the weather out, if you touch anything it's likely to be covered in grime or dirt, empty and lonely

the romance castle: well-kept and clean, might have the scent of gourmet food or novelties like flowers, well lit, expensive textures like luxury rugs or smooth hardwood

based on these descriptors we can already imagine what life is like outside of the gothic castle. the zombie castle is probably in a dark wasteland where everything is dirty, wild and disorganized because its inhabitants are more focused on survival (that's ur plot!). meanwhile the gothic romantic royal castle suggests that the luxury associated with the castle is exceptional compared to everything around it, but still has an air of mystery unique to the castle (which influences how its inhabitants form opinions on the castle!)

justifications

this is the most important thing i follow: the reason for the world to be the way it is will alter the characters' perceptions. we consider magic an impossible fantasy irl, but in a world where magic is normalized, i would be much more surprised to see wizards than a citizen of a normalized magical world. perhaps your magic system requires resources—this means people may be in competition or cooperation with each other for the resources. would the characters of your story try to preserve their resources and by how much? would they expend it freely? where and how are resources generated? ask yourself questions. when you think of an answer, you get a launching point for the world's nature, culture, physics/magic systems, laws and street smarts, politics, and so forth... you can explore these topics and more as needed.

more in depth, a world where magic is possible but forbiden could include covert magicians, possible tensions between magical people and the authority that forbids it, etc. from that, you can consider what types of people use magic, how they access it, and why they use it. you can also ask why it's banned, the consequences for using magic, and the societal opinion on magic. is magic dangerous—what kinds are violent and what kinds are harmless, and how can you make a harmless spell menacing?

the point is, justification is identifying cause and effect. your worldbuilding acts as the cause and your characters feel its effects.

so these are general pointers i have on worldbuilding. as for how i integrate them into my own writing style: since i write a lot of short x reader fics, i have very limited time to set up a world for the reader

i think a decent example would be trading a heart. it may be one of my longest unit 4402 fics, but in comparison to other world-heavy fiction it's really short! even though there are a few explanatory moments, understanding the setting is very dependent on passing details that the characters mention or acknowledge in their daily life.

in terms of visuals, senses, and other imagery, i was very inspired by modern day witchcraft's use of tarot cards, crystals and herbs, etc. of course there were dramatics involved like candles flickering and going out, but i liked how real life rituals are just kinda... nothing really happens noticably. there's gotta be a better word for it

obviously that's very different from shu as a sorcerer, with flames and curses and stuff. so how does this modern witch reader compare to shu's tangible magic?

it came naturally to me that if the reader's magic is based on divination irl, then they would be thoughtful, analytical, and intuitive. shu sees things in extremes, just like his magic. his need for clear conclusions becomes his flaw in that fic. meanwhile, reader understanding that things are complex becomes the solution for the both of them.

i kind of worked in reverse for this fic. the prompt for that fic already gave me an end goal, so deciding the character motivations and attitudes (shu's take-it-or-leave-it thing and reader's insight) was based on reaching that eventual goal. from that, i took note of what was canon to shu (his fire and shikigami) and thought of ways to contrast to his magic. subtle magic like divination came to mind. which led me down a whole rabbit hole of how irl people divine things and that led to the reader being an analytic person because irl fortune telling is basically self reflection, but, like, spooky

so that's how the magic system kind of works! it serves to develop the difference between the two spellcasters, in both how they practice magic and how they see the world! that's the justification!

and of course there's other smaller aspects that make the imagery of the world more clear. you can imagine it's a modern with magic world since you can just... online shop for weird magic ingredients like hearts and stuff. and they have those clickbaity amazon titles so clearly it isn't a rare occurrence to go shopping for that stuff. it's also an accepted pracfice in the society shu and reader live in, ince they both have successful careers as magicians, and reader mentions a variety of average people as clients like university students and stay-at-home moms.

i hope this helps! there's no specific formula to creating your world and i'm not very strict with my process, but i tried thinking of the things that've helped me the most over time. feel free to get creative and wacky, some of my favorite world choices come from times where i stopped rejecting my ideas that seemed too weird, outlandish, stupid, etc. you'll find that if it makes you excited and interested, you can connect it to your story somehow and it'll make your story all the more unique!

lemme know if any of this is unclear or you have any questions, idk if i articulated myself well since i've been sitting this post late at night 🙂‍↕️

[thelittlestsquid]

How I Met You (1/3) - König x F!Reader

A/N: Graphic design is my passion, yes. Anyways, this is my first fic ever! Yaaaaaa.....aaayyy.. yeah. I'm German, so obviously I had to write about König. Before anyone says anything - yes, I know he's Austrian. I headcanon him having family in Germany that he visits when he's on leave. He speaks standard German so it makes sense to me. I also gave him the name Mathias. I don't know, he seems like a Mathias to me. :,) This will have three parts, so hopefully y'all enjoy it, because we'll be doing it again. Twice. I don't really know how Tumblr works yet but if you want to request anything - I always gladly take requests! <3

Anyways, this is getting pretty long - if you want anymore info on me or the rules for requesting, look at my pinned post! Thanks so much for reading! <3 (I'll translate everything German, don't worry!) Kaufland is a German supermarket btw., it's literally 'buy land' wtf

Summary: König never thought he'd have to worry about falling in love or starting a family. He also never thought that he'd meet is partner-to-be in a Kaufland, trying to reach bread - and failing horribly.

Warnings: (Social) anxiety, König doubts himself a lot, Kinda Meet cute, Fluff, language, Female Reader, German Word count: 2k

From an outsider's perspective, König was a skilled operator, a deadly fighter who was deadset on completing his objectives.

Even if he was built like a mountain, he somehow managed to go completely unnoticed by his enemies, making him a deadly weapon.

That was him. That was all he was supposed to be - all he had to be good at.

And he was, well, he tried. He tried so damn hard to be. But lately, his mind seemed to wander. Suddenly he felt like being this perfect weapon wasn't the only thing he wanted - something he thought would be long lost to him became an option again. A family of his own.

He believed that, if he ever tried to find a partner, they would be military as well. His life was full of murder and misery, he thought that he needed someone who understood his job. He thought only a fellow operator would.

So why the fuck was he here, in a Kaufland, staring at the cute woman at the end of the aisle - clearly not a soldier. Clearly struggling to reach the top of the shelf. His legs started to walk towards her - his social anxiety somehow forgotten.

''Äh, entschuldigung? Soll ich dir helfen?'' (Uh, excuse me? Should I help you?)

--

Fucking bullshit these… tall fucking… shelves in Germany…, you were visiting a friend in Germany for two weeks. Everything went well - until you went shopping and tried to get some bread that was at the top of a giant shelf. Fucking hell, why are shelves in Germany this big?! Fucking Germans…, you cursed wildly in your head, trying to reach that damned bread for more than five minutes now. It was getting embarrassing but your ego didn't allow you to just ask someone to help you. 

A shadow fell over you. You turned around and looked right into a broad chest. Slowly your eyes wander up into the face of the absolute giant in front of you. The lower portion of his face was hidden by a face mask, his blond, long hair in a low bun - some strands of hair falling into his eyes as he slightly bend down to look at you. Blue eyes look down on you but his gaze doesn't quite reach your eyes - he seems to stare at your nose. He says something you don't quite understand - it's only your second day here after all. He seems to understand your confusion, his eyes widen slightly as he clears his throat. ''You speak English?'', he slightly tilts his head to the right. You nod, letting go of the shelf next to you. ''Yeah, uh.. sorry, what were you saying?'', you say as you straighten up a little so that you can actually look into his eyes. 

The mans eyes widen a little as you straighten up. Standing a little straighter himself he points to the bread, his eyes crinkling as he seems to smile a little. ''Do you want me to get that for you? I would not want you to hurt yourself'', without waiting for your answer, he grabs the bag and hands it to you. You take it, glad that this madness was finally over. You put your aquired treasure into your shopping card and turned back to the giant. ''Thanks. What's your name?'', he seemed to think for a while, eyes becoming distant. Did he forget his name? After a short while he cleared his throat again and look back to your nose. ''Mathias. My name is Mathias. And what is your name?'', you could see the ghost of a smile behind his mask. It didn't quite reach his eyes but it seemed genuine. You told him your name and held out your hand. Mathias stared at it but decided to shake it, his large hand covering yours completely. He was insanely warm, like he just held his fist into a bonfire. ''You uh, have a pretty name'', he says, even if it was a little quiet. -- What the fuck was he doing? 'You have a pretty name' - really? Fuck, he should've never asked to help you. He should've just gone into another isle and finish his shopping. Did he really think he could just... chitchat? He was never good with that! When you asked him for his name, his mind seemed to go blank for a second. Scheiße, was he König or Mathias? Would it be weird to make you call him König? Yes, yes it would - Mathias it is. (Shit) You are not on base. This is a civillian. Callsigns aren't normal here. This is not military ground.

He repeated the mantra in his head. So much, that he almost forgot to answer you. After some debating, he shook your hand - reminding himself to be gentle. Civillian, not military. This isn't a seasoned operator.

Fuck, what was he supposed to say now? How would a normal conversation continue? Was he annoying you? Surely you had better things to do as standing here.

He was taking up so much of your time, maybe he should just turn around and walk away, maybe that way he could forget about all of this and just finish his shopping and-

--

His eyes were distant again. Was he okay? Should... should you ask? Something about his entire act was extremely confusing. He was tall, undeniably strong - his face was almost hidden by the mask yet what you saw was... actually really fucking handsome. He seemed gentle and thoughtful - he helped you, a complete stranger, after all. Smiling, you took out your phone. ''Let me buy you a coffee as a 'thank you', yeah? Want you give me your number?'', you held out your phone, opened on a new contact. Mathias flinched a little and blinked down onto the phone. He stared for a few seconds before taking it. ''That would be... nice. Thank you'', the phone looked absolutely mini in his hands, he could hold the entire thing with one hand as the other typed in his number. It seemed to take him a while because his fingers pressed down on two numbers at a time. He scrunched his eyes a little, seemingly very concentrated. It looked really adorable.

After returning your phone, you bid farewell. You still had some shopping to do and surely Mathias had other matter to attend to as well. Whatever it was, he seemed pretty determined to leave the supermarket as fast as possible, almost tripping over himself in the process. You huffed out a quiet laugh as you continued through the aisles.

--

Okay. So you obviously didn't hate him. She gave me her number... She wants to meet me... He stood in front of his mirror, two shirts in his hands. Today was the day you two would meet a cafe, not far from his home. He liked that one, it was quiet, not too full and their menu was amazing.

Should he wear his mask? It would be hard to eat with it on... Should he go with his normal, black shirt? Maybe he could try something new? No. He wanted to be comfortable and not worry if anyone thought his outfit was weird.

König decided on his usual stuff, black pants, black shirt - it became a habit from when he was on base. You couldn't exactly wear bright ass clothes on a mission.

After some spending some more time on panicking, he decided to take his mask with him - put it on once he felt the need to.

König didn't think he was ugly. Quite the opposite, actually. He found himself to be handsome. The thing he was most worried about wasn't his looks.

On missions, he wore his sniper hood - an old shirt he couldn't use anymore since it became too small. It wasn't what he imagined to be wearing when he joined, but it stuck. König was used to hide his face, not caring about his expressions. It was so familiar to him that he sometimes forgot to show emotions when he was on leave. Old habits die hard, eh?

But he wanted to try - he found you genuinly interesting and he loved how patient you've been with him. Since your first meeting, the two of you texted daily. König behaved completely different over text. More bold as usual. You, in return, answered with the same boldness - subtle and not so sublte firts were exchanged over the past few days which resulted in König being even more nervous when he thought of meeting you again.

How the hell did he manage to get into this? Since when did he talk to people, let alone befriend them? Was he trying to be friends with you? Clearly you seemed interested, did you want more too? Wait, too?

Before he could loose himself in his self-doubt again, he threw on his jacket, took his keys and wallet and left his apartment.

This was all so... new to him. On the field, all he had to do was function. He had to set his emotions aside, they didn't matter. What he thought didn't matter, how he talked to his subordinates didn't matter. But he wasn't on base now. He was on leave and he had to remind himself every. single. time. that he needed to behave differently here.

It was hard which is why he usually kept to himself, resting alone in his apartment or going out with some comrades to drink - people who understood him and thought like him.

As he walked down the street, he suddenly worried if you even recognised him without his mask. But König didn't have to worry for long, as your friendly voice called out to him from further away. --

This cafe was absolutely adorable. You arrived a little earlier than necessary to get a good view of the place. It looked really old, baby blue accents and plants everywhere. Almost like a little palace.

Spotting Mathias wasn't hard, as he towered over pretty much everyone. But something seemed different today.

You could see his face - all of it. And fuck, was he beautiful.

He frowned slightly as he walked down the street, his eyes cast onto the floor. You could see some freckles covering his cheeks. His hair was in a ponytail, his blond curls falling over his broad shoulders.

You had to stop yourself from staring. Any time now. But it was so damn hard to look away.

You don't know how it happened but after your short encounter in that stupid supermarket, the mountain of a man didn't leave your mind, his voice basically replaced your inner voice at this point.

He was an absolute treat over the phone and in real life. Especially in real life.

You jogged over to him, calling out his name in the process. ''Mathias, hey! Hi, how are you?'', you smiled up at him. He smiled slightly and it absolutely melted your heart. He had dimples that only became more prominent when he fully smiled at you. ''Hello you. I am good and you? I hope you will like it here'', he nodded towards the cafe.

-

You had an absolute blast. It was nice and quiet, the food was amazing and most importantly - you had just the right company.

Mathias was cautious with telling you anything about him but after some convincing he told you about his work. He was a soldier in the military, stationed in Austria but visiting his family in Germany.

That makes sense, you thought. Something about him screamed soldier. His height, the way he dressed, those absolute huge muscles - you kind of already knew.

But all this only made him more attractive in your eyes. Strong, capable but at the same time he seemed so... gentle, so sweet.

The date - as you called it in your head - ended sooner than you wanted it to. But inside you knew that this wouldn't be the last time the two of you crossed paths.

[creampuffqueen]

going back through some of my earlier yangvik tags for fun and i completely forgot how insane my timeline was 💀💀

finished reading legacy on march 5th. 24 hours later i had already written over 2k words of smut fanfiction. slightly over two weeks later, march 23rd, i posted the completed fic which capped out at 12k words. by march 30th i was going 'WHAT IF I HOSTED A YANGVIK SHIP WEEK????'

all of that in less than a month. wtf was i on 😭

(that answer being hyperfixation fueled by my completely unmedicated/unmanaged adhd...)

[astraydestiny]

Daily Writing Complete!

GUYS IDK WHY BUT I FEEL LIKE I ATE WITH THIS LIKE ‼️‼️‼️‼️ THIS IS ACTUALLY EYE WATERING RN LIKE IM CRYING.

BTW 2K WORDS IN AN HOUR‼️‼️‼️

I only have a bit over 9k words left until I finish my 30k words per month challenge!!!

But the thing is, as I’ve mentioned somewhere before, I missed three days so… I have a 1k words back log. I need to finish 2k words tomorrow with that addition, and then I can go back to writing a thousand each day.

BUT ANYWAYS

IDK I FELT LIKE POLAR (the guy speaking) ACTUALLY LIKE TOOK OVER MY BODY WHEN I WROTE THAT?! LIKE MY MALADAPTIVE DAYDREAMING COULDNT EVEN COOK THAT HARD.

Btw polar is lit second gojo like he is super tall, white hair, pale skin, blue eyes, LITERALLY GOJO. DONT ASK WHY HIS NAME IS POLAR SO I HAD TO MAKE HIM SNOW THEMED. And i felt sad because gojo died :( SO YEAH!

Hows yalls writing going? Good I hope!

TWST

Also btw for my twst fans over here WHY IS MALLEUS ACTUALLY EATING IN THAT CLUBWEAR OUTFIT?!?!

If you dont know what I’m talking about look here:

LIKE OKAY MALLEUS. GO GARGOYLES I GUESS!!! he is actually serving like wtf tysm YANAAA TOBOSOOOO

I would go walking in the rain while learning about gargoyles with him anyday… wait

How does this guy even get funding for the club???

Does he just fund it himself???

Like it makes sense, hes a crown prince so hes super rich and atuff but still like- idk man

I also think its sad how hes the only dude in his club like isnt that lonely? I would actually die if i were him like tbh thats kinda embarrassing

To me tho, to those lovely people out there who are in a club by themselves you are DECADES cooler than malleus and me by far, SO DONT LET ME TLEL YOU OTHERWISE wait a minute

How do clubs like that even exist???? Dont you need atleast like 3-5 members initially to start a club? I guess malleus is just built different. Or you think Lilia or Sebek threatened a couple diasomnia kids into joining malleus’ club so it could actually start- or crowley just got so scared of angering malleus that he just let it exist anyways? On that topic- why didnt sebek join malleus’ club? Probably because he prioritizes protecting him more but still. Maybe Sebek was forced by Lilia to take equestrian (is that what hes taking i forgot) but yeah.

Thats all for today folks! I needa lock in and finish my LA project soooo yeah. BYE BYE!!!

- Kani

[johnslittlespoon]

okay listen feral bikerider gale/past catching up to him/etc etc etc anon here and can I just say. thank you. I’m not overly interested in the actual violence or gang-shit or whatever. when I first read about the bikerider au all I could think about was sons of anarchy (idk if you’ve watched it, but I watched three seasons with my dad and it’s all just. gang conflict after gang conflict after gang conflict with some romance sprinkled on top and that’s not. really my thing) and I was not into it. at all. then your yapping (affectionate) converted me. hearing that it won’t be all weapon smuggling and, idk, drugs or smth is actually so reassuring lol

and!!! obviously it’s your fic/au, I’m definitely not here to try to influence you in any way whatsoever!!! I’m super excited to read it no matter what because your writing is just. lovely. I check in pretty much every morning like I’m reading the papers lmao

doing something semi-stupid in your past feels like kind of on brand for everyone, even though it might not be illegal for most. and maybe it wasn’t illegal for Gale, either, bro I am not a very good writer, I’ll leave the plotting to someone else.

but I’ll always love the idea of Gale being a little feral. or a lot feral. like John getting hurt in a bikerider au tickles my brain the same way John punching a German guard in canon centric fics does. Nevermind the guard, I just need the fallout. the angsty fallout.

John and Gale coming back home, and Gale sitting him down in the bathroom to very, very carefully patch him up (and, listen, the other guys probably just roughed him up a little. he probably got away with minor bruises and some scrapes), and Gale being insanely worried that he has scared John. John on the other hand is worried for Gale, because what if it happens again? What if the police finds out? John being worried that he somehow messed up.

and, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind reading feral gale beating the shit out of people. It’s just not something I want to read a full fic of.

finally, because I just need to add this, too: Gale’s knuckles being split and bleeding and John so very carefully cleaning them up, pressing gentle kisses to the cuts when he has to scrape the dried blood up to get it properly clean. Gale not being sure what he did to deserve John, being so sweet and gentle and caring.

okay, over and out 🫡 sorry for not being that clear in the other ask, I blame. idk, sleep deprivation. and sorry for making this so long, idk what I’m on about half the time and my meds are doing shit to my brain. I love your blog and your writing just. makes my fucking days. I’d wait forever for the next chapter of dog coded Bucky ❤️

YIPPIEE more leaving!bikeriders au >:) hii i meant to get back to this SO long ago, feels like good timing now with the bikeriders theatre day approaching! i'm assuming you're the anon from this post <3

i have THOUGHTS. aka this got lengthy oops, shocker. a bit of plotting and then like 2k words of drabble below the cut lmfaoo

the proper drabble will be further down, but first of all, very big agree!! and relieved i'm not the only one who feels this way omg. i haven't watched SOA for this reason specifically– i just don't have much interest in the conflict/violence–heavy plot stuff (which is ironic considering i'm excited for the bikeriders movie, but i think it's pretty clear that's because of the lovely cast lol since i don't care for bikes/cars in the slightest oops). HONOURED that my yapping converted you tho LOL i swear if something is character focussed, it can make 99% of topics at least somewhat appealing!

and please don't worry omg i don't feel influenced/pressured etc, i loveee bouncing ideas and brainrot back and forth for my aus, it's sm fun and i love trying to incorporate things other people like/suggest when i can!! <3 but omg i will weep thank you so much wtf?? :'))

for sure; even the most stoic/'put together' characters surely have done some not very bright things in their lives. i'm toying with a couple backstories for gale to establish what might catch up to him or cause conflict, but i'm gonna wait to decide until i see the movie because i have a feeling i'll get some good inspo from benny's story!

honestly it's the part i'll have to put the most effort into really thinking out in terms of plot to make it flow naturally, because all the relationship focussed things kinda write themselves as i brainrot. but i'm 99% sure i'm gonna write the fic from john's pov because it'll keep a lot of gale a mystery to the readers as well, and therefore save me from having to flesh out certain things until necessary lmfaoo

and yeah!! it's not always the events themselves that hit the hardest– it's the fact that the character could be feral enough for them to happen in the first place, and it's the outcome/fallout that's most fun to write/read (to me).

feral gale is so fun to explore in general because of how different it is to most of what we're shown of him in mota, so it's like a challenge to keep him feeling in character while also picking out the little parts of him that could be pushed to be that way. and of course the classic whump of the one person gale cares about and tries so hard to protect getting hurt because of him? endless angst possibilities.

i dig what you said, about john 'just' being roughed up a little, because i think with whatever backstory i end up forming, it's not like the 'bad guys' are gonna be some mastermind criminals extorting gale for something life or death lol. it's probably gonna be a bunch of rough and tumble biker men with some long lasting beef between their clubs, hitting gale where they know it'll hurt the worst: a loved one.

i bet you anything (depending on how plotting goes LOL) that they don't actually even intend to mess john up to the extent they do; i bet john runs his mouth and makes some sorta escape attempt because as terrified as he is, all he can think about is how gale's gonna obviously track him down and he's more worried about what the guys are planning to do to gale when he shows up. in his naive mind, if he can get out and get to a phone or something, he can stop everything.

ofc the escape attempt is futile because it's one gangly college kid vs a couple of grown ass men, and john gets banged up in the process, seeing as being tackled to the ground with your wrists bound behind your back doesn't leave you with anything to protect your face from concrete with, and maybe then he gets a solid fist to the face to scare him out of pulling anymore shit (it sure works).

and just the act of taking john/putting him danger alone would have gale ready to wring these men out by their necks, but when he shows up and sees his baby bleeding? and he can't tell how bad he's hurt, from where he's lurking around the corner scoping out the situation? he'd see red and be pretty dang close to saying fuck it and going in there without a plan, but the fear of john getting hurt in the process would stop him, and he doesn't feel like going down for murder.

somehow he picks off the guys one by one with a generous amount of flying fists and y'know, maybe a bit of knife–work if necessary, idk, future plotting lol, and tells them they're good as dead if they pull anything like this again. that the club will be keeping an eye out for them, that they're a buncha cowards, and they can come talk to him face to face like men, next time. you get it.

and then finally, obligatory wound care ofc <3 easily top three tropes ever ugh. gale gets john the fuck out of there and to the safety of his truck, methodical and vigilant, and only then does his guarded expression drop, and his hands are shaking just as hard as john's are when he cups john's face in his hands to look him over. john gives him a shell–shocked "'m fine, gale" and hates how guilty gale looks, because there's not even the tiniest part of john that blames gale for any of it; john knew what he was getting into (to an extent) with gale.

but regardless, gale's shaken up, terrified by how much worse things could've gone and how much danger john could've been in, but also terrified of how deeply he feels for john; probably some backstory there about gale seeing someone he loved get hurt, or almost get hurt, swearing he'd never bring someone into his life again because of it, etc, and then in waltzes stubborn, loud–mouthed john egan.

but selfishly (or what he feels is selfish), gale's also terrified that this might be the final nail in the coffin for john. he knows he's not the easiest to be with (even though john thinks the exact same thing about himself lol silly boys) and he knows john's more patient than he deserves, and could find someone his own age with a normal life in a heartbeat with his sweet disposition and charming pretty boy looks. and he knows john's well within his rights to walk away from their relationship now, to be scared of the future, to decide it's too much, and part of gale would be relieved to not have to worry, even if he'd miss john like he's lost half of himself.

it's real quiet when they're back home and john's sitting on the bathroom counter, gale between his legs, patching up his face so so gently, as if each brush of a cotton swab is an apology. both of them have lots to say but neither know how to say it; john hates knowing gale's probably shouldering all the blame and he doesn't know how to reassure him in a way that'll get through to him, but he can't handle the silence. probably makes a weak joke about how "y'shoulda seen the other guy" and doesn't even get a smile out of gale.

ends up wrapping his legs around gale's hips to pull him closer but just gets a huffed out, frustrated "john" as gale swats his ankles away, and it's not that john's trying to make light of what happened, he just doesn't know how to talk about something like that, regardless of how good he and gale have gotten at communicating.

john probably gets a bit frustrated, because gale’s already so protective over him as is, which he likes, but now gale’s treating him like glass, like he’s scared to hurt him further just by touching him, and john does not like that. it feels like progress undone, like he's back at the beginning of their relationship when gale wouldn't let him in or open up to him or trust that he was capable of making his own decisions.

so when gale's done bandaging him up with practiced, meticulous hands, john doesn't give gale time to react, just slides off the counter and snatches the little first aid kit from his hands and says "okay, your turn." and it's obvious gale wants to protest, but john catches him so off guard that he stunned into silence, lets john guide him until he's leaning against the counter.

john's hands still tremble when he takes gale's hands in his, and he tries to steady them because he doesn't want gale to see how freaked out he is, but he diligently cleans away the blood around his knuckles, feeling gale's eyes on him the whole time but not looking away from his task, scared he'll shatter the moment if he does.

if he were to look up though, he'd see gale's watching him in complete awe, struck by the fiercest wave of adoration, drawing a blank while he tries to search for what he could've possibly done in this life or another to have someone like john come (crashing, stumbling, tornado–ing) into his life.

and if we wanna make it extra yowch–y and sappy and feelings heavy: as john's brushing his lips over the cuts, dusting featherlight kisses across his knuckles, john's throat goes tight and he feels his own overwhelming rush of emotions and his heart thumps and he blurts out: "i love you."

it's the first time one of them says it. and it’s a disguised i love you even so. i love you despite. i love you anyway. i love you because. months worth of reassurances wrapped into three words, and even with what john's just gone through, he's still scared when it slips out, looks up at gale with wide, searching eyes, trying to gauge whether he's overstepped or said the wrong thing.

gale's just trying to catch his breath, feeling like the wind's been knocked out of him by the admission. half of him wants to shake his head, gently push john's hands away, tell him "no you don't, hun." a tiny part of him wants to be cruel about it, to laugh the honesty off and ensure john will walk out that door far, far away from the mess that gale is, and not turn back, safe from harm.

but the other half of him, the half that holds his heart, evidently, has him cupping john's open, sincere face in his hands, looking down into bright, fearful, hopeful blue eyes, and murmuring "i love you more."

and john blushes as hard as he did the first time they'd kissed, as hard as he did the first time he was laid out in gale's bed, as if he and gale haven't said a million things much more fluster–inducing since they met. gets all shy, pouts, looks down and mumbles "that's not fair," and that finally gets the first smile out of gale all day, maybe even a breath of a laugh.

they love each other your honour </333

this got way out of hand but what else is newwww i'm so weak for these two. so so weak. i keep saying it but MAN i'm so excited to write this fic this summer omg :')

and DON'T BE SORRY!! it's so chill omg, you were perfectly clear (but i'm glad you elaborated and gave me an excuse to yap about them some more hehehe) and never apologize for long messages, i loveee reading the brainrot and hearing ur thoughts and getting to brainrot back. and thank you AGAIN sobs 😭💗 that makes MY days and ur way too kind fml. i hope the wait hasn't been too long LOL on the chapters AND a response to this ask!! tysm again mwah

[joltai-showa]

quick update on chapter 14 - it's almost done, I think the end is like within the last 1000 words for sure

tried to finish it on tuesday, but I worked sick all monday, so I just kinda took it easy after posting chapter 13 and slept until the evening, got like another 2k words before I had to go to sleep if I wanted to not feel like shit at work on wednesday. got woken up by my family's cats at 5:30 anyway, and then saw my friend pinging me that genshin's servers were back up after an update, so I spent my sleep time on pulling, raising the level and testing escofier (no fucking clue how to write it. me and my friends just call her nescafe). then the work day was a mess and I no longer have any idea wtf is going on at that place. hopefully I'll get paid on monday at least. returned to my place and played genshin for like 2 fucking hours and losing my goddamn mind over how the shittiest abyss ever became the easier thing in the world once i got nescafe (arle + zhongli + xilonen + bennet side 1 and wrio + furina + nescafe + shenhe side 2). nescafe's talents were 1-1-1 and she was only level 70. the powercreep is going to obliterate us all, isn't it.

ahem. my gacha addictions aside, almost finished chapter 14, but realized I was falling asleep cuz I was so tired, and I don't wanna do this like this, Obito deserves a proper send-off as a POV and I also kinda wanted to get my thoughts on the entire fic together, so it all gets postponed until tomorrow. which is already today for me. you get the idea

(yes, that's a bit of the spoiler for the next installment in the series. I shall finally be free of the mess that is Obito and the following events will be from Deidei's perspective)

also! i saw everyone's comments🥹thank you very much, I'll reply to them after I finish with the fic!

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 3: Ichor (Blood)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Parings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s blood time, I know people have been waiting for this! (This was literally the summary I wrote for this on ao3, and I can’t remember wtf I meant by this)

Tags: Blood, biting, scratching, masochism, aftercare

Word Count: 2k

The Masterlist

There was no denying that Medic was a sight to behold after a difficult battle. Ragged, sometimes soaked to the skin with blood, and yet a triumphant gleam shone in his eyes. He looked like he had dragged himself out of Hell, and every aspect of it enticed you.

Your lust for blood was something you were always shy about. And it was a quite literal lust. The sight of someone drenched in scarlet until barely any other color could be seen, having drawn that life-giving substance from the veins of their enemies with their own hands, was incredibly arousing. You just never knew how to bring it up to your partners, so it remained a repressed fantasy.

Until now, that is, because of course, being as observant as he was, it didn’t take long for Medic to figure it out. The flush in your cheeks every time he returned from battle looking especially bloodied and ragged gave it away soon enough. It wasn't long before he began indulging you. The two of you explored your desires together, and those were the times you lived for, when he returned from work to partake in a macabre kink that the two of you happened to share.

Sometimes Medic couldn’t even be bothered to remove his uniform, simply unzipping his fly and having you right there in the infirmary. Not that you minded at all. Honestly, it was a wonder how you hadn’t been caught at some point. It was a frenzied ordeal, especially when he was straight off the battlefield, blood still slick and bright on his skin and uniform, soaked gloves leaving crimson smears upon your skin like a gruesome canvas. You loved every minute of it.

Today was one of the instances that Medic actually had the patience to completely disrobe before taking you upon the cold metal of the surgical table, the doors to the infirmary precariously locked behind him. You wouldn’t have it any other way. His hair was soaked with blood, somehow making the black locks seem darker. Drops of crimson dripped down his face as he thrust into you.

You heard Medic hiss as you dragged your nails down his back. Often you would alternate between scratching at his skin and stroking it gently in order to keep him guessing. It was exhilarating for him, to never know when you might decide to switch gears from rough clawing to gentle caressing.

“Gott liebling, keep doing that,” Medic gasped as you continued to draw long red marks down his back, knowing that you would be rewarded with even harder thrusts.

Scratching was a common occurrence during such rough situations. At first it was an accident, something you did in the heat of the moment, but Medic’s reaction to it had been so rewarding that you couldn’t resist doing it on purpose. Over time you had learned just how much force you had to exert to draw blood. Medic was spurred on by the pain, and you soon found that you enjoyed the slick sensation of blood beneath your fingernails very much. It wasn’t long before you discovered that you took pleasure in a bit of pain too, as Medic often wasted no time returning the favor, leaving both of you with vibrant red lines down your backs.

Medic leaned down to kiss you, pausing his movements despite your whine of protest. His kisses were feverish and rushed. His face was now fairly bloody and marked your own skin from your lips down to your neck and chest.

“So schön, meine liebe. You are so alluring, painted crimson like that” he whispered, leaning back to admire his work.

Growing impatient, you grabbed his hips, digging your nails in to make your desires clear. You needed him to start moving again. He growled before grabbing your wrists, placing your hands above your head and pinning them to the unforgiving metal of the table. You shuddered at the sudden restraint. Medic squeezed your wrists tightly- a nonverbal command to keep your hands where he placed them- before releasing them and grasping onto your hips.

He began to thrust into you at a merciless pace, pulling your body to his with each forward motion. You inhaled sharply when you felt his nails dig into your waist, scratching down to your hips. That was followed by a low moan when Medic smoothed over the area with the palms of his hands, spreading the small amount of blood he had managed to draw from the supple skin.

The look he gave you as he did so was almost loving. It struck you as ironic that he could be so affectionate while engaged in such a violent form of play. It was sweet, and you were almost immediately tempted to disobey him, wanting to move your hands if only to pull him down for another kiss. However, you kept still, managing to show some restraint, for now.

“Gott, meine liebe, you are so good for me. So obedient,” he growled, his hands finally releasing your hips. Instead, he shifted his focus to your chest, squeezing roughly and making you whimper. He left more streaks of scarlet in his wake.

Taking advantage of now longer having your hips restrained, you bucked up to meet his thrusts, making up for not being allowed to use your hands. His grip on your chest tightened as you did so before he moved to hold onto the edges of the operating table for better leverage.

His movements grew uneven, partially from you bucking back against him and partially from how close to finishing he was. His hands frantically grasped at you. He leaned over you, his face buried in the crook of your neck to muffle his moans, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him closer, forgetting about the rule as pleasure overwhelmed you.

You felt the pressure of Medic’s teeth on your shoulder before you realized what was happening. It took a moment to really register the delicious pain blooming from the fresh mark. The hard bite was unexpected, and it was entirely unlike the scratches, completely new, different, and apparently, enough to push headlong into your climax.

Medic slumped over you as his own orgasm hit him, groaning at the taste of your blood as he ran his tongue over the bite. The two of you remained that way for several moments, labored breathing becoming the only audible sound in the room.

When Medic finally regained enough strength, he sat up, taking several moments to admire the sight of your blood smeared form. The fluorescent light of the infirmary made the blood seem to shine. You admired him as well, his face a blend of exhaustion and immense satisfaction.

Medic walked over to the cupboards, retrieving several items; bandages, cloth rags, and disinfectant among other supplies. That was one benefit of doing this in the infirmary. All the things you needed for cleanup were only ever a few steps away. You sat up with some effort, wincing from the residual pain as Medic arranged the items on the table.

“You remember what I taught you, right?” Medic asked, handing you some of the items he had gathered.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” you said, pouring water over the cloth generously.

“Ausgezeichnet. Go on then,” he turned his back to you, allowing you to clean the blood that you had managed to claw from his skin.

This little ritual had become commonplace ever since your first session, when you had refused to let Medic use the Medigun on you. You liked to admire the marks left behind, to watch them heal slowly. Medic soon grew to share your affinity, and it wasn’t long before he started teaching you how to clean and treat wounds like this.

You learned quickly, and it had come in handy outside of the bedroom- or rather, infirmary- as well. There were a few times when Medic, overwhelmed with injured teammates to treat, had requested your assistance. To anyone else, it just seemed like you had simply taken an interest in medicine. None of them could possibly guess the truth behind your newfound knowledge.

Once the excess blood was pretty much cleaned, you reached for the bottle of disinfectant, once again soaking the cloth with its contents. You placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense up when you placed the cloth to his back again.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Nein, don’t apologize. If it stings, you’re doing it right. It’s better to have a few minutes of discomfort now rather than an infection later,” he said. You nodded, considering that he had probably endured worse discomfort on the battlefield.

You also couldn’t help but laugh. Medic was perfectly fine with transplanting exotic animal parts into his fellow mercenaries and conducting various other kinds of procedures on them that would be considered malpractice at the very least. Yet, in these more debauched and far less professional situations, he suddenly became a model doctor. He turned his head to smile back at you, hearing your laughter.

“Ja, I know. Ironic isn’t it?” He said, reading your thoughts like an open book.

“Yeah,” you said, reaching up to brush his hair to the side, where it had fallen out of place. The blood in it was beginning to dry. “You’ll probably have to shower to get all of this cleaned out.”

“Perhaps you should join me,” he said, turning his whole body to plant a soft kiss on your lips. You rested a hand on his cheek, enjoying the short, intimate moment before you got back to work.

“Do you remember how to properly bandage everything?” He asked as you returned to your task.

“Already on it,” you replied, unrolling the gauze as you spoke.

“Gutes mädchen. You are such a quick learner,” he said, the praise making you grin from ear to ear as you finished your work.

The two of you then switched places, now with your back to him. Taking up a fresh cloth, Medic repeated the process you had just undertaken, although a bit more efficiently. He had been doing this for much longer, after all. The excess blood was wiped off, and a small warning was given before the disinfectant was applied.

You gasped sharply at the sting and resisted the urge to pull away. Unlike the scratching and biting from before, this wasn’t the kind of pain you craved, but it was unfortunately necessary. You really didn’t want to explain how you had gotten a severe infection as a consequence of indulging a kink.

So you endured, and soon the sting faded and you felt Medic applying gauze to your back. You felt him trail his fingers up to your shoulder and pause. That’s when you remembered the bite, the pain of it now having faded to an intense ache.

“Medic?” You said when you noticed him lingering there for a bit longer than normal. “Is everything alright?”

He shook his head, obviously having been lost in his thoughts. Your question seemed to have brought him back to reality.

“I’m sorry about this, mein schatz. I hope I didn’t scare you,” Medic said, gingerly brushing his hand against the bitten flesh, which was still bleeding, albeit at a much slower pace now. “I suppose I just got carried away.”

“It’s alright,” you said, voice hitching when you felt the disinfectant applied to the bite. It was a much deeper wound than the scratches were, and therefore more painful to treat than you expected. Once you caught your breath again, you continued. “I actually really liked it.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He asked as he bandaged the wound. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Yeah, in fact, could you maybe do it again next time?” You asked, turning to face Medic. There was that signature grin, just as you expected. He leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips before responding.

“Only if you promise to bite back, mein liebling.”

[some-bunniii]

hii :3 i came right away from ao3 the moment i learned you had a tumblr, and god do i have to tell you how much i adore your works. i love the way you write for every character, it catches their personality so well and I'm absolutely smitten.

I'd like to add that you're probably the reason why i finally got my motivation to write back. i was on hiatus for over a year before i switched blogs :3 i figured a fresh start would avoid my writer's block coming back. soo perhaps i should thank you? you're awesome.

i hope you're getting the rest you need!! please do not overwork and remember to hydrate! would it be alright if i ask for us to be moots? have an awesome day :3

oh my gosh.. ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა

that is wonderful!! i’m so glad i could give you even a droplet of inspiration to start writing again. it’s so easy to fall into writers block, and even easier to stay there. even now i face that sometimes, but then i look at all of you and go “wtf am i thinking, back to work!”

and i would love to be moots! unfortunately i originally created this as a side-blog for testing and forgot to make it a main before i started publishing works 😭 so @some-bunniii is technically my main (but inactive) account that i haven’t touched in years, but you can totally shoot me a DM or anything through here tho if ya wanna chat :)

and don’t worry, i’m taking good care of myself 👍 keeping da brain healthy and happy. but recently i’ve been experiencing some pain (not serious) and let me tell you how much it sucks trying to write on ibuprofen cuz it just makes you so ughhhhh 😪 but i’ve written almost 2k words today so nap time for me 🤭

have a wonderful day 🤍

[bendingwind]

Fanfiction Year In Review

This was a special year for me, in that I wrote a lot after almost a decade of writing relatively little and believing I'd never be a particularly active fan author again. Thank u psych meds (and the years I spent trying to find ones that didn't absolutely wreck my extremely dumb brain chemistry).

I started out January with writing like, just a ridiculous amount of explicit Witcher fic, which I still haven't finished posting all of. I hyperfixated on Bleach once again and wrote a good amount of Bleach fic, though I abandoned a few incomplete works I started. I wrapped up the year writing some Dragonriders of Pern fic, which hardly anyone will read, but I sure will enjoy! I reached 150 stories total posted on AO3! I posted over 100k words this year! Shoutout to the Bleach folks in particular, for engaging with me and making it so that posting for that fandom is such a fun time!

And honestly, I wrote probably half as much again that I didn't complete or chose not to post as what I did share. Overall I'm very pleased with how this year went writing-wise!

Statistics:

Kudos: 701 Comment Threads: 50 Bookmarks: 104 Word Count: 101,131 Hits: 8,725

Not too bad for mostly old or older fandoms and several obscure pairings!

Stories I Posted (scroll to see what I didn't, which in my stupid opinion is the more interesting part):

Something So Magic About You (The Witcher) (2,825 words)

Any Stranger I Choose (The Witcher) (1,027 words)

glow (Bleach) (1,019 words)

Any Thrill Will Do (The Witcher) (3,118 words)

i'd tell you i miss you (but i don't know how) (Bleach) (1,365 words)

we're takin' on the world together (Bleach) (462 words)

my days once revolved around you (Bleach) (811 words)

Scarred and Scarring Still (The Witcher) (1,016 words)

the way you move is like a full on rainstorm (Bleach) (4,173 words)

i don't know how to be something you miss (Bleach) (200 words)

Need To Be Youthfully Felt (The Witcher) (1,590 words)

Offer Me That Deathless Death (The Witcher) (5,873 words)

The Wretched and the Joyful (The Witcher) (871 words)

The Most Eligible Bachelor in the Seireitei (Bleach) (20,607 words)

shrike (Dragonriders of Pern) (19,516 words)

Touch (The Witcher) (1,006 words)

felessan (Dragonriders of Pern) (7,524 words)

branoren (Dragonriders of Pern) (3,250 words)

Settle Soft (The Witcher) (1,082 words)

robse (Dragonriders of Pern) (3,432 words)

jarrol (Dragonriders of Pern) (4,097 words)

gellim (Dragonriders of Pern) (5,234 words)

All the Things I Would Do (The Witcher) (721 words)

No Shortage of Sordid (The Witcher) (1,189 words)

Fell In Love With the Fire Long Ago (The Witcher) (928 words)

Any Way to Distract and Sedate (The Witcher) (1,089 words)

Remember Me When I'm Reborn (The Witcher ) (1,089 words)

For Years or for Hours (The Witcher) (1,056 words)

The Same Kind of Music Haunts Her Bedroom (The Witcher) (4,961 words)

Stories I Didn't Finish or Didn't Post

untitled RenRuki pre-academy smut in which they attempt and badly fail at having "casual" sex (abandoned at 2k words because I lost the hyperfixation, though of all of them this is the one I most want to pick back up)

A really, truly, absurdly cracky Ichigo/Shuuhei a/b/o fic (abandoned at 3k words because I woke up and went "wtf am i writing here")

not what you thought it would be, IchiRuki, part of my speak now series, this one based on the titular song. I don't want to deal with the drama of posting it and I don't think the fandom needs any more of this particular variety of take on IchiRuki. It's also one of the first things I wrote after getting back into the fandom and I'm not sure I agree with the characterization any longer?

never grow up, Ichigo & Isshin, abandoned at under 1k words because it's hard to balance Isshin being, well, Isshin, with the tone of this story

Another moderately cracky story in which Toushiro develops a crush on Byakuya and finally starts to grow up because of this and is mortified (abandoned at a little over 13k words + some outtakes--same lost the hyperfixation deal)

the same music series, which deals with Ichigo dying unexpectedly and having his memories erased before being sent to Soul Society. There's a finished standalone piece about Rukia dealing with losing Renji in a battle (all that we intend is scrawled in sand, ~2k words) which I haven't posted because it makes me Very Sad. The series is primarily Orihime/Rukia, but eventually ends up Rukia/Orihime/Ichigo. I also sort of vaguely had an idea about a final part that was Byakuya/not!Renji (there's a core theme where souls can be tracked across incarnations because their zanpakuto always takes the same shape, even if they are fundamentally a different person due to different life experiences and have completely lost their memories). I abandoned the first draft at about 5k words in and the second draft at about the same point.

NORTH, the first in a planned IkkaYumi series where they wander the Rukongai and fall in love. (abandoned on draft 3, each about 4k words long, because Ikkaku is hard af to write)

Around half of the An Art to Life's Distractions explicit series, which I'll probably get around to editing and posting next year. It's, uh, been more or less finished since February of this year :flushed_emoji: I just struggle with it because I think it's good but the kudos:hits ratio... does not agree.

A Pern series focusing on original characters late in the Ninth Pass. There's one "complete" het story that needs to be rewritten (about 20k words), about 12k of a femslash story that's technically a prequel, about 15k of a slash story that's also technically a prequel, and plans for an additional het story that takes place after and features one of the OMC's like five billion half-brothers.

All this to say, I wrote a shitload of words this year \o/ I will not be jinxing myself by making any wishes about next year \o/ Happy New Year y'all \o/