#anyway he stepped in it and tracked it all over the house and needed a bath and ive had ut

[sillygoose067]

Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 30

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Author's Note: Chapter 30 ALREADY?!?! It feels like yesterday I started writing this series. For those of you who've followed me every step of this journey so far, I thank you immensely.

Also, this chapter is inspired by a request from @iamapersonwholikesunicorns. So thank you for this idea.

You manage to clear up matters with the rest of the Leclerc family and enjoy a fulfilling dinner, warming up to the brothers and Charlotte. 

All of a sudden, you hear a cry. The baby must have awoken. 

Charlotte’s fork clatters to the plate as she moves to get up. 

“No, no, Charlotte, if it’s alright with you, I can go see to her. I’ve already finished my meal anyway”, you rush out. She looks at you with a grateful expression. 

“Can you please? I haven’t been able to have a good meal in weeks, she always seems to know when I’ve just sat down.”

You nod and slip your hand out of Charles’s to go find the infant. He gives an apprehensive Enzo a smile of reassurance. 

…

As you approach the crying baby, she stops momentarily, not recognizing you as any of the familiar faces of her family. Her eyes are wide and still glazed with unshed tears as you lift her out of the carrier. 

“Hi”, you begin talking to her to engage her. “Aren’t you such a beauty? Why were you crying, sweetheart? Will you help me figure it out? Hmm?”

Her lip wobbles as she can’t seem to grasp the situation, and you frantically search your purse for something that would distract her. You find your keys. You jangle them in front of her, and her eyes light up as she reaches for them. Handing them over to distract her for a bit, you lift her and check for any obvious problems that could have been bothering her. 

Diaper full? Nope. Hungry? Not yet. In need of a burping? Nope. What could it be? You rack your brain for any other possibilities. Then it hits you. Bringing a hand to her forehead and her back, you realize she’d been sweating in her clothes. 

“Oh, you poor baby. Were you feeling warm, sweetheart? Is that what was bothering you? Did Maman dress you up in too many layers?”

You wipe away the tear tracks from her chubby baby cheeks, using the end of your top to collect the unshed tears from the corners of her eyes. You pick her up and she drops your keys, her attention now drawn to your braid. You let her play with your hair as you make your way to the dining room again. 

Peeking your head through the door, you knock on the doorframe to bring attention to yourself. “Hey Charlotte, I think she was overheating– her clothes are soaked through. Can I take them off and get her changed into something else?”

She tells you, yes you can, and that the baby bag is under the lamp in the living room. 

As you turn to go, you catch yourself. “I never asked; What’s her name?”

“Isabelle.”

You smile and hum to yourself. What a beautiful name. 

The Leclerc family’s eyes follow you out of the room, wondering how you’ve managed to handle the situation so well.

Once you’ve left, Charles fills them in on how you’d come to Europe with your friend Marie and her daughter Leila, who had been around the same age as Isabelle when you’d moved to Nice. He also told them about you having a younger sister back in the States. 

As he unpacks all this new information, Pascale covers her mouth with a napkin and smiles to herself. You’d make such an amazing mother. 

…

Down the hall, you were playing with Isabelle, her giggles permeating throughout the house as you held her up and she bounced, standing on her unsteady legs. She was so cute, you had to stop yourself from holding her close and inhaling the still-there baby powder scent she gave off. 

After playing around and babbling and cackling uncontrollably for the past hour, she crawls into your arms and lays her head on your shoulder. You situate her comfortably and hum a lullaby from your childhood to her, rocking back and forth gently while patting her back. 

Charles steps into the room and your eyes meet his as you smile and bring a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet. He nods and makes his way over to the sofa, taking a seat silently. He watches with a flutter in his heart as you handle his niece with such care– It makes him jump to visions of a future with you. He’d always been a family man, but none of his past partners seemed to feel the same way. And then you came along and lit up his life. 

He rests his cheek on his hand as he watches you lull Isabelle to sleep. Lorenzo and Charlotte enter the room just as you get up to place her back in her carrier. 

“Thank you so much Y/n”, whispers Charlotte.

“Of course, I love children and I’m willing to help out anytime you need some.”

Lorenzo comes over and shakes your hand. “It seems I misjudged you greatly. I apologize for treating you so harshly tonight.” He looks over to where Isabelle is resting, love in his gaze. “Isabelle doesn’t take to anyone as easily as she did to you, you know? Not even Charles and Arthur. She seems to be a good judge of character.”

“Yeah, and she gets all of that from me, asshole”, interjects Charlotte.

He kisses her temple affectionately. “Of course she does. She needed to balance out the fact that she has all of her daddy’s charming looks, so she took your personality. Something tells me she’ll be a handful when she’s older…”, retorts playfully, earning him a smack to the chest. 

…

After bidding everyone goodbyes, you and Charles make your way over to his car. Once he gets seated, he shuts the door and rests his head on the headrest with a thump and a sigh. He tilts his head your way. “Chéri, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You grin shyly. “Once or twice.”

“Well, I love you. And that could not have gone better. I’m so proud of you.”

“You think so? I don’t know… I felt like–”

“Love, I’m telling you, you managed to win them all over without bribes and sweet talk, so yes, that could not have gone better. If anything, you’re stuck with me forever now.”

He brings a kiss to your knuckles, leaning over the armrest to place one on your lips softly. 

“It’s late”. He checks the time. “Do you want to stay over at my place tonight? I can lend you some clothes”. 

You chew your lip, contemplating his offer and weighing your options. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Marie and Leila, but you also didn’t want them to worry about you not turning up. 

“Ok, just– Can I text Marie that I’ll be staying over at yours?” His thumb comes up to caress your cheek, which you lean into instinctually. “You never have to ask Chéri.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #fluff #smut #f1 #formula 1

[sunderwight]

Crack SVSSS Mpreg AU where when Shen Yuan transmigrates in, the system impregnates him with the displaced soul of the original Shen Qingqiu.

For the purposes of this AU, we'll say that male pregnancies or trans men being pregnant in the PIDW universe are uncommon but not especially noteworthy concepts.

So now not only does he have to deal with recovering from his qi deviation and of course being pressed into the role of the scum villain from the novel he was just reading, he's also mysteriously knocked up, can't explain it, and doesn't even know for sure if the baby will recollect being Shen Jiu when its born -- and of course hate him for stealing the Shen Qingqiu life.

What's more, Shen Yuan can't bring himself to get rid of it, because he does have mixed feelings about stealing Shen Jiu's life as well. Even though he knows it's probably the best tactical move, and he doesn't even like Shen Jiu, and the system has said there wouldn't be any penalties because it wouldn't impact the major important plot milestones, he opts to just... keep it. And not think too hard about it.

Luckily(?) cultivators have a lot of control over their bodies, which means a pregnancy can last however long they want it to, so Shen Yuan doesn't have to worry about giving birth in a hurry. SJ seems fine in utero, stalling his development doesn't have adverse effects, so Shen Yuan just swears Mu Qingfang to secrecy and figures out how to keep his pregnancy at the early stages for as long as possible while he hashes everything else out. So apart from internal freak-outs, most of the early plot proceeds as usual.

Unluckily(?), this state of affairs changes when Shen Qingqiu gets infected with Without-a-Cure, as that makes it so that putting off the inevitable is no longer a viable course of action. He can't spare the extra energy and doesn't have the stability of cultivation required to mess around with his pregnancy anymore, so things have to proceed at a more normal rate.

Which means the other peak lords and the disciples on Qing Jing find out that Shen Qingqiu has been harboring a secret pregnancy for an undetermined length of time. Shen Yuan has to bite the bullet and use the amnesia excuse to explain his lack of insight to the existence of any other parents (he's surprised it works so well, because he doesn't know that the rest of the sect has already figured out he doesn't remember some things after his fever), which inspires a lot of behind-the-scenes chaos because everyone has ALSO figured out that Shen Qingqiu's amnesia seems to pertain to things that must have traumatized him in the past.

So if he's pregnant, and he lost his memories of how he got that way...

Well. Cang Qiong is now on the hunt for an attacker who might already be dead and doesn't actually exist.

But everyone agrees that Shen Qingqiu doesn't need to be troubled by these details, so if he's okay with not remembering, then they're okay with letting him not remember. The only one who tries to bring it up is Liu Qingge, and that's mostly in the context of wanting clues so he can track down the culprit and stab them until they are dead.

Luo Binghe supports the quest to find the persona responsible and violently murder them, but as a disciple he has no resources to actually go on some wild goose chase for a mystery rapist. Besides, he has more important things to do on the peak, like making Shizun's meals, keeping Shizun's house, and preparing to help raise Shizun's baby. Luo Binghe is not going to be the stepdad, he is going to be the dad who stepped up! (Binghe please cool your jets you're like fifteen you're going to give your future shizun whole new inner turmoil about whether it's possible to accidentally babytrap your own teenage disciple via immaculate conception reincarnation pregnancy...)

Anyway eventually baby SJ arrives, and Shen Yuan immediately decides to block all recollections of the childbirth process and never dwell on it again. Something happened, he's no longer going to think about it, oh look a baby! A potentially evil villain baby. With cute widdle toes and tiny fingers and a squished, grumpy baby face that gets all red when he cries...

Yeah. Despite his reservations, there's no way he's not getting attached.

He gets Binghe to help him pick out a name for the baby, partly because he feels terribly presumptuous when he actually knows this kid's real name (but he can hardly call his son "Shen Jiu"), partly to encourage Luo Binghe to have some fondness for the kid so that if he someday hates his old shizun, he might still spare his "son" from his revenge. Even though it's actually SJ's fault. Well, he's a baby now. He probably doesn't even remember anything! He sure does cry a lot! Would the OG villain cry and fuss and settle down only after being sufficiently cuddled?

Turns out, yes. Shen Jiu remembers everything from before his fatal qi deviation. He's just also still an infant. So what can he do but cry? And maybe pee on the beast and that body-stealing creature that has reduced him to this. He spends most of his early infancy waiting for someone to come smother him with a pillow, but the conspirators must want to keep him alive for some reason, because it doesn't happen. Instead he gets looked after and soothed and taken care of in a way he never has been. Also, his stupid baby instincts keep insisting that the creature which stole his body is actually the safest person in the whole world.

It's like a cruel joke. SJ finally gets the childhood he always wanted deep down inside, but the one giving it to him is some kind of monster.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #bingqiu #mpreg #long post #sj's gonna be a toddler by the time the abyss arc rolls around #that's gonna be a whole entire mess

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader [vol ii]

Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

W.C 3.8k

Trigger warning: enemies to lovers trope, eventual smut, language, crude behavior, Eddie is a fucking menace 🖤 this will be a series 💋

{a/n} I probably should have added this when I originally posted it. But I’m a little dumb— anyway, this is my submission for @newlips ’s milestone of love hope you all enjoy it 💋 I truly enjoy writing and I wouldn’t be here without the support you all as readers/ fellow writers bring to me every single day! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ♥️

He wasn’t your first option for a roommate, in fact he was so far off your radar for a potential housemate, you damn near shrieked when you saw him. But when nobody had showed up besides him to view the small two bedroom house that you were forced to sublease after your roommate got married— you didn’t have a fucking choice. It was too expensive to run another ad in the Hawkins Post and summer was coming to a close. You were fucked.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you snarl as you throw open the door to see his stupid grin. Always too toothy, too goddamn endearing. Made your stomach bind up. “No, no way.”

Standing in all his sadistic leather glory was Eddie fucking Munson. He’s taller than he used to be, still a long haired asshole, reeking of weed and cheap deodorant. What kind of sick twisted joke is this? Did you really piss off mother karma that bad that you have to live in a separate, more fucked up layer of hell? Fuck you Dante, and your inferno. There’s not a single other person in this town who needs somewhere to stay?!

He pushes his way into your home, leaning forward with a shit eating grin, eyes hooded and winking as your lips curl in disgust. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.” He taunted. Licking his lips as he stalked past you, his filthy work boots tracking dirt onto the carpet.

“Yuck — do not— call me that,” you hissed, you stand with your hand still on the knob, not fully committing to wanting to shut the door— praying that he was some sort of a hallucination.

“You gonna show me around, or should I raid your panty drawer while you sulk?” A dimple dips into his cheeks as his stupid grin grows wider on his face.

You slam the door with a thud, “kitchen, living room, my bedroom, the other bedroom, bathroom, garage, laundry in the basement.” You’re practically shouting, as you stomp around the small space, pointing to the direction of each room, taking a grand total of twenty seconds to point everything out, not giving a fat rats ass if he was following you or not. His laugh echoes off the walls, taunting you, making your skin crawl and your ears itch. You turn around to find him quick on your heels, your face almost smashing into his grease covered work shirt.

He doesn’t move, or make any attempt to step away from you, forcing you to put the space between you both, stepping back and smoothing down your hair. His eyes kill to yours, dark swirls of muddy browns searching your own, he asks, “Why do you get the bigger room?”

The fucking audacity of this man. You could wring his neck right now and nobody would even know.

“Excuse me?” You question, peering into his chocolate eyes, waving a finger in his face, “maybe because It’s my fucking house, you’re lucky if you’ll get a room at all.”

He leans his head back with a laugh, letting it slam forward as he deadpans, creeping forward and stepping around you, waiting til he’s behind you to whisper in your ear, “I’m lucky? That ad was in the paper for over a week,” he seethes, “I bet I’m the only one who showed up to view the place, so nice try, Tooty— but you’re desperate for the cash.” He wasn’t wrong, you were desperate, the salon paid okay but Josie just upped the price on your rental chair, making your mortgage almost impossible for you to pay on your own.

“…I’m doing you a favor. So, if you want me to pay rent and utilities, then I’ll, so graciously, be taking the bigger room.” His breath fans across the back of your neck, making the hairs stand up, and goosebumps riddle your skin. You turn to face him, hands on your hips trying to show how serious you are.

“I know it took you like four times longer to graduate than anyone in United States history, but you can’t possibly be this damn dumb.” It was a cheap shot and you know it, but who does he think he is? Barging in here with demands like a fucking A list celebrity. Not today, mother fucker.

A comment that would have normally made anyone else burst into tears, or at least leave hollering ‘bitch!’ as they stomped out to their car, only fuels Eddie’s perverted fire, “Ooo, an insult and a scolding, what’s next a spankin’?”

Your hard-ass facade drops, your face faltering to one of disgust instead of stern, don’t-fuck-with-me, boss lady, “Get out, Munson.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He saunters towards the kitchen table and pulls out his wallet, of course its a chain wallet, you roll your eyes as he starts forking over an impressive amount of bills and sets them down, one by one.

“Here’s my first month, last month and deposit.”

The total is way more than what you’d even told him but you're still tongue tied from his comments, he lives for this shit and you had fallen for it—rookie mistake.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to start moving stuff in.” He smiles widely, moving towards the door, “See you then, roomie.”

His figure haunts you for the next few hours you have left of peace. His smell lingers around the house, you shove open every window you can, including the one that was painted shut by the previous owners. He was so fucking annoying. Is that supposed to be charm he was throwing at you? Fucking barf. The only thing you were feeling was rage, and that you needed to shower after feeling his breath on your skin. Lighting every scented candle you can find, Sugar cookie and beach sands will do— the smell slowly wafts out of the windows. You shower quickly, figuring better do it now than after he arrives, the dreaded walk in a towel from the bathroom to your room was something you hadn’t thought of until this second. Hot water sprays against your skin, assaultingly hot, almost blistering the skin on your back.

You are seething, raging mad. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be funneling out of your ears. Mocking him, you think of better comebacks than you had thought up earlier. Scrubbing your skin until you resembled a lobster, and angrily scratching your scalp. “What’s next a spankin?” GOD he’s so nasty, the sheer nerve of him makes you want to throw a toaster into the shower with you. Nothing a few volts can’t fix. You towel off, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you wipe away the condensation. The stress of the day slowly melted off as it was rinsed down the drain.

You’re applying your eye cream when a—loud as fuck— knock on the door shakes the walls.

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers as you peek through the glass. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a 30 pack of Busch Light. 3 smiling idiots are behind him, two passing a joint back and forth while balancing a very worn mattress, the other swaying on the sidewalk holding a guitar, most likely already drunk.

Tucking the tail end of the towel wrapped around your head into itself, you fling open the door, “Jesus Christ Eddie, will you shut up! I have neighbors you know!”

“Oooo— first fight!” One of the idiots with shaggy blonde hair preens.

Your glare could compete with lasers against his skin, prying through his epidermis and burning the vessels.

Eddie lets out a laugh, “aww sweetheart, I didn’t know you were planning a slumber party!” he says gesturing to your towel and pink robe. “Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll be braiding your hair and you can paint my nails, give me all the hot gossip!”

You turn with a huff half closing the door behind you. The gaggle of idiots roaring with laughter at Eddie’s joke.

He pushes through the door into the house, tossing his bag onto the table, knocking over the napkin holder and the stack of mail, letting out a loud sigh. He rips the thirty pack open on the side, making the beers crash to the floor. You still your eyes and cross your arms, unamused by his stupid antics. He cracks one open, slurping up the spray of suds as it puddles around his hand and down onto the carpet. He kicks a beer towards you and raises his up in triumph. “Here’s to you roomie, Home Sweet Home!”

You’re so fucked.

-

“Robin, I’m seriously going to kill him. I don’t care if I have to go to jail—anything would be better than this!” you whisper-yell into the phone, you watched Eddie and his band of misfits bring in box after box, most of his stuff was in black plastic garbage bags. They formed a line throwing the bags to one another and the last one haphazardly tossing them into his room.

“Oh relax! A hunk like him moving in and you don’t even have to pay him? You just hit the jackpot!” She giggles on the other end of the phone, smacking through her licorice.

“More like jackass with all the shit he’s moving in.”

You’re hunkered in your room, between the wall and your bed, twirling your bedroom phone cord through your fingers, “Seriously the place smells like weed so bad I’m probably getting a contact high as we speak.”

Robin lets out a throaty laugh, “Might do you some good, you’re so fucking tense all the time.”

“Sorry—” you say, twiddling the blue carpet fibers through your fingers, “I’m just stressed after Nancy moved out is all.” It wasn’t a lie, Nancy moving in was a huge relief to you, she took care of almost everything. Organizing bills, scheduling pest control when needed, she even wrote the garbage pick up days and hung it on the garage door. With her gone, this all falls on you. “What if he steals my stuff in the middle of the night and bails?”

She curses your full name, “He may be a lot of things, but a thief is not one of them—seriously you have nothing to worry about, calm your boobies!”

“Boobies!” Steve yells, joining the room Robin was in, “it’s Eddie, he’s a total nerd, you’ll be fine.”

“If he’s so great Then you can live with him Steve!”

“Nope, no can do,” he says around a mouthful of food,

“I gotta keep this clumsy oaf on a short chain”

“Oh, you’re dead Harrington.” The phone drops and all you hear is squealing and thudding of feet running around.

“Robin! Not my shampoo! ”

“Steve? Robin?” You wait in silence as the line goes dead, “Uhh!” Slamming the phone into the receiver you hear Eddie and his leather clad Barbarians holler goodbye to one another. One too many “see ya later man” ’s and you’re practically puking. You open the door to your room and poke your head out. Watching closely as Eddie tears through garbage bags, unloading heaps and heaps of clothing, an entire bag dedicated to just band shirts, another revealed bedding that was quite literally rolled up and thrown into the bag. A quick sniff test has him turning up his nose.

The kitchen is taken over by Eddie’s stuff, more bags, more boxes, a cookbook titled: The Dungeonmeister Cookbook is sitting on the stove. A stack of Burger King collectible Disney cups is cluttered around the microwave. Along with an impressive amount of neon twisty straws and a bowl with a straw connected to drink the milk.

It’s like a small child moved into your home instead of a grown ass man.

Opening the fridge to get an apple, you can’t help but notice Eddie also moved some refrigerator items with him as well. Two big bottles of hot sauce, more beer than the local bar probably holds, a half drank carton of orange juice, and a giant jar of pickles, without a lid. Huffing with annoyance you step over Eddie’s bags of shit and get a knife from the drawer to slice the apple. The loud shrill screeching of 80’s metal almost makes you cut your finger. Stomping into Eddie’s room with your fuzzy slippers you don’t bother on knocking before you look for the plug to his cassette player, unhooking it from the outlet and pointing the knife in his direction, you all but scream in his face, “I almost cut my fucking finger off! Turn it down or I’ll cut the goddamn cord!”

He’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, cassettes littering his lap, his eyes almost bored, “aww Tooty I’ll play with you in a little bit, daddy just has to get some things done first, ‘kay?”

You roll your eyes in disgust, did he seriously just refer to himself as ‘daddy’?

“God you are foul,” you retort, throwing the cord down onto the carpet and placing the knife on a nearby box, “wouldn’t surprise me if you were a dad.”

Eddie throws his head back with a chuckle, “why? You into dad bods? Listen sweetheart, my metabolism will slow down eventually, gimme three—four years max and I’ll be all gut.” He flashes his pearly whites towards you and winks.

Ignoring him completely, your nose scrunches. “Stop calling me that!” your heart is pounding in your chest fury on high, “what the hell is that?”

“That,” Eddie says batting his eyelashes, “would be my masculinity wafting from my aura to yours, why does it turn you on?”

You fold your arms over your chest, and shift your slippered feet beneath you, “Do you have a certain amount of disgusting phrases you have to get out throughout the day or are you just naturally this nauseating to be around?”

“No idea, anyway,” Eddie continues, standing to his full height and shucking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground, “I’m gonna order a pizza you want in?”

“Maybe you should finish unpacking,” you say taking a quick glance around the clothes strewn everywhere around the room, “it’s a fucking mess in here.”

Eddie leans in close eyes ghosting over your features as they gawk over your lips, “well, sweetheart, maybe if you had given me the bigger room— like I had asked for— I would have enough space to put my stuff, besides,” he says, standing up and leaning backwards to crack his back, a small trail of hair peeking out from his waistband makes your breath hitch in your throat, “I bought dressers and they’ll be delivered on Monday, so my clothes don’t have a place to go right now, unless you wanna split your closet?”

“I’d rather drop dead.”

“Aww don’t do that, far too pretty to be dead, and what would the neighbors think?” He strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner of his room, your eyes dart away but not before catching a glimpse of his pale skin.

The small tattoos he had in high school are slightly faded with time, new ones are inked down his arms, across his chest and down his side. You can’t help but notice the silver hoops pierced through his nipples as they reflect light and draw you in towards his chest. He’s lean but built, no defining abs but the muscles in his arms could be carved from a sculptor, replicating a greek statue. Surely minutes have gone by but in reality it has only been seconds, you don’t even realize he’s still talking.

“…don’t need to give the cops more of a reason to watch me more than they already do.” He drops his eyes to your face, seeing you peek at his body. A grin is plastered to his lips as they curve upwards, he stretches his arms out wide, the veins in his arms protruding further out, oh what you’d give to just touch it with your hands, your tongue— wait what?—“Shit,” he says, drifting forward, your body pulling away from him, “looks like you aren’t into dad bods after all.”

Your cheeks flare red as you stomp out of his room, his joker laugh vibrates the walls as you slam your door. Throwing yourself on the smooth purple cotton of your comforter, and screaming into your pillow.

Nobody ever got under your skin the way he is. Why are you allowing him to frustrate you this much? He’s a boob. A pimple on your ass. That annoying twitch that your eye sometimes does when you don't have enough sleep. Yes, the festering wound, the bad rash that kept coming back, the burn in your belly, the thorn in your side— is now your roommate. Fuck.

A knock on your bedroom door, brings you back to your current state of throwing a hissy fit. You launch your cup of pens that adorns your nightstand at the door.

“Does that mean you don’t like pineapple on your pizza?”

-

Thank God you showered before Eddie started unloading his stuff, because he has been in the bathroom for at least a half hour. You’re sitting on the couch, the same rough, itchy upholstery that used to take up way too much space in the Wheeler’s basement. But a $20 bill and Nancy promising her dad that she would mow the lawn for the entire summer of ‘91, and it was now yours. Karen would sigh with relief that the ugly furniture was leaving, meaning her living room would get an upgrade as their now living room furniture would find solace in the basement. No longer stinking of cheesy pizza farts and bad B.O., or screaming threats from middle school boys about the inner demons of DnD, Mrs. Wheeler would come to miss the yelling, and the rotten stench of boys running amuck in her house. Nancy parted with the under stuffed, well loved, hideous piece of furniture when she moved in with Jonathan. So now, the outdated, wagon wheel patterned couch, was all yours.

The smell of finger nail polish fills the living room as you attempt at painting your toenails a shimmery blue that you had gotten at the mall with Robin. A fuzzy navel wine cooler tucked between your legs, you’re trying hard to get it finished before a new episode of “The Nanny” comes on. Eddie is singing in the shower, loudly. You recognize the tune as “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. Not that you were admiring the way his voice sounded. You were just surprised that a twenty six year old weirdo actually knew good music. The doorbell rings, snapping you out of, yet again, another strange spiral of thinking about Eddie Munson.

“Eddie!” You holler from the living room, “door.”

“Money’s in my wallet, just pay the dude quick and I’ll be out in a minute.” He yells back from the shower.

“Eddie, I’m busy— get the fuck out here and do it yourself.” There is no way you are walking around with wet toenails, what the hell was he thinking?

“I’m in the middle of washing my ba— “

“Alright! Fine!” You walk on your heels to the door, opening it quick to find a Hawkins High student in a red hat with the pizza logo on it.

“That’ll be $19.50,” he says with a less than enthused remark.

“Hang on,” walking back to the bathroom on heeled feet you knock on the door, “where’s your wallet?” you ask in a hurry through the door.

“Uh, my jeans I think,” Eddie yells back. You cross into Eddie’s room, looking around the mess he made, realizing the only thing he managed to make an attempt at organizing was his never ending cassettes, a few records, and an old record player. Posters decorated every wall. Metallica, Nirvana, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and White Zombie. The clothes were piled high in a mountain of leather, flannel and white cotton socks. Not a single pair of jeans that you could see. His bed sat on the ground, cluttered with notebook papers, dice, and tightly rolled joints.

“Eddie!” You yell from his room, “where the hell are your jeans?”

A chuckle echoes in the bathroom, muffled slightly by the spray of the shower head, “they’re in here, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with smugness and sweet notes of laughter.

Fuck it, we don’t need pizza. I can eat cereal. I’ll just tell the pizza kid to leave and Eddie can fend for himself. Fuck this.

“Tooty?” He calls from the shower, enunciating every syllable. “Come on,” he sings, laughing to himself, “I promise I’ll stay behind the curtain. You won’t see a thing— unless of course— you want to.”

You barge through the door, fumbling through Eddie’s jeans pockets, finding the black leather of his chain wallet and yanking out $25. An idea crosses your mind and you can’t help but go through with it. A flick of the lights had Eddie cursing every word imaginable as he was cast into darkness.

Thrusting cash into pimple head’s hand and shutting the door, you walk into the kitchen to get some plates. Eddie emerges from the bathroom. His hair is dripping in long strands, and your robe is wrapped right around his body, barely covering his southern region. The pink terry cloth material lined with lace looking absolutely ridiculous on his tattoo covered body.

Oh— this mother fucker.

“Are you seriously wearing my robe?” You ask, hands on your hips, nails digging into the cotton pajama shorts you’re wearing.

Eddie does a spin and swings his hips in a circular motion, his dick swinging like a helicopter.

“Well sweetheart, when you so rudely turned the lights off on me, I was forced to find the first thing I could to dry off with, and besides— you can’t deny how good I look,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling the widest smile you had ever seen from him.

A lump of anger and sheer rage catches in your throat, “you’re repulsive,” you say, turning away from him and tossing pizza onto plates.

“And you,” Eddie says sliding beside you, his breath fanning your cheek, the cold drops of water from his curls pressing into your shoulder as he grabs a greasy slice of pizza straight from the box, “are extremely uptight.” The whites of his teeth bite into the cheesy triangle and chew loudly as he smacks his lips, licking the orange grease from his lips.

Anger boils in your belly, filling your veins with agitation so thick they’re bound to clog up. “I. Am. Not. Uptight,” you seethe through clenched teeth, and closed eyes.

“Yeah, sure sure,” Eddie says, mouth full of pizza, and his eyebrows raised, “whatever you say.”

You weren’t always this high strung. But having everything ripped away from you, would make anyone pretty goddamn bitter to the lemonade life had to offer.

vol ii

volume ii

A/N: thank you to everyone for reading this and continuing to support my crazy ideas. Thank you to everyone I had beta this story—@agentmarvel @pinkrelish + @sweetsweetjellybean you all push me to be a better writer and I am forever grateful for that ♥️♥️🖤💋

Taglist: @luna-munson83 @tlclick73 @idkidknemore @joejoequinnquinn @newlips (omg, they were roommates)

#newlipsmilestoneoflove #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #enemies to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie fanfiction

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Can also be read on ao3 || Main masterlist || Next chapter

chapter summary: You moved to Chicago six months ago. You still don’t really feel at home in a new city, far away from friends and family, but you make a new connection one night when your new neighbor almost set your apartment building on fire.

word count: 3.1k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. Set in season one. Vague mentions of Mikey’s situation. Reader is from Copenhagen, or has at least have lived there for a longer period of time, but it isn't directly mentioned that it's her nationality, and no description of appearance is mentioned. Reader's exact age isn't mentioned either, but it is implied that she is around Carmy's age.

"My head and my heart and my hands are longing I just woke up in smoke feeling the heat coming Cause the house is on fire"

Copenhagen, six months ago 

The cool breeze from the water blows gently against your cheeks, and you can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia creeping in. The calm waters of the harbor glisten in the evening sun, casting a mesmerizing reflection on the nearby buildings. You take a drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke caress your lungs as you contemplate the big changes that lie ahead of you, the smoke swirling around you in a hazy dance. You’re not really supposed to smoke on the platform, but since the station is almost empty you let yourself indulge this one time. You’re leaving all this behind in a week anyway.  

As you stand there, watching a lone seagull glide effortlessly above the water, its wings catching the last rays of sunlight, you can’t shake the feeling of bittersweetness that envelops you. Copenhagen has been your home for so long, filled with memories and familiar faces. But now, Chicago beckons with a new opportunity, and you’re leaving in a week, and you don’t fucking know if you have made the right decision or not. 

You’re going to miss the ocean, that’s for damn sure. You take another puff of your cigarette, the brisk air mixing with the smoke as the golden sun slowly sets over Nordhavn. The colors of the sky shift to hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the water. The beauty of the moment is not lost on you, but neither is the weight of the decision you’ve made.

These thoughts swirl in your mind as you take a last drag of your cigarette, exhaling slowly as if trying to let go of all your worries. The sound of the approaching train brings you back to the present. You stub out your cigarette, before the red train comes to a stop in front of you, cutting off the view of the water.

With a deep breath, you gather yourself and step onto the train. As the doors close behind you, you find a seat by the window. The familiar rumble of the tracks beneath you lulls you into a sense of calm as the train begins to move. As the train starts to pick up speed, you close your eyes. It’s going to be hard to leave it all behind and start over in a whole new city, but you know deep down that you’re in need of a change.

· · · · ·

Chicago, present day

Carmy can feel the building pressure at the sides of his skull that indicates that a nasty headache is on its way. The wet rag in his hand is feeling mushy between his fingers as the scrubs away at the steel countertop, the rhythmic sound of Gary’s broom sweeping over the floor, matching up with the incipient throbs in his temples.

He needs a fucking break and a cigarette, but he can’t really take one now, he is the one who has been so insistent that they start to take prepping and cleaning of their stations more seriously and he can’t just, fucking, leave in the middle of it, he’ll get the bottle of tylenol in the desk drawer in his office after they’ve finished. 

“Chef, you want me to strain that oil for you?” Sydney asks, her voice cutting through Carmy’s pounding head.   

“Uh, no, no I got it. Thank you, chef.” He’ll finish his station, strain the oil, and then take a break. Unless something else comes up, which there most likely will.  

“Why am I using a toothbrush, chef?” Marcus asks from his place at the stove where he is scrubbing  the burners. 

Carmy blinks, trying to push aside the growing migraine as he explains, “It’s about consistency and being consistent. Can’t operate at a higher level without consistency.” He can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for pushing his team so hard with all these new changes, but he knows they need to seriously step up their game if this place is ever going to be just a little less of a shit show. 

“I like this level,” Richie exclaims. 

“Yeah, well, at The French Laundry you know how much time we’d spend-” Carmy begins, but Richie cuts him off. 

“Well, go fuck your French Laundry. Stupid fucking name.”

And yeah, Richie might be right, it kind of is a stupid name, but Carmy is not about to start a discussion over the fucking name of a French-Californian fusion place.  “All right, then at Noma.”

“Fuck your Noma too,” Richie retorts.

Carmy just shakes his head, deciding to let Richie’s attitude slide for now. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with him, not with the pain in his head steadily increasing. 

“Noma’s the shit, huh?” Marcus chimes in. 

“The best,” Carmy and Sydney respond in unison before Carmy continues. “It’ll teach you to operate at a level you didn’t even know you could operate at, Marcus,” he tells the baker before turning to address Richie again, “And just so we’re clear, I wanted to work here. Mikey wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, no, no. You went halfway around the world to learn all this fancy, useless fucking bullshit. I went to West Lawrence Avenue and learned every level.” 

“West Lawrence? You’re talking about DeVry?” Marcus asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.  

“Yeah, exactly,” Richie confirms. 

“Oh, DeVry. ‘We’re serious about success,’” Marcus jokes, using an exaggerated deep voice.

“Is that supposed to be fucking funny, fucko?” Richie grins at Marcus before jokingly trying to tackle the younger man who by now has bursted into laughter. “Let me tell you something. No for real,” Richie lets go of Marcus pointing his finger in the air as he continues. “Where else are you gonna learn crucial database management specialization skills, huh? While troubleshooting a vented OptiSpark distributor in a Trans Am?” 

“I would never need to learn that,” Syd interjects, not pleased with Richie’s antics.

“Definitely not Noma!” Richie exclaims.   

“I would legit do anything to go to Noma,” Sydney says longingly.  

“And eat bugs?!” Richie teases.

Those ants had been a fucking pain to work with, but Carmy keeps that to himself, he is not about to give Richie that victory.  

“And be inspired, stupid,”Sydey retorts.

“God, and be lame.” Richie counters. 

But before more can be said about DeVry or inspiration or, fucking, bugs, Ebra storms into the kitchen, interrupting them. “The ice cream machine is broken!”

Just like Carmy had predicted, something else had come up. He turns to Richie. “DeVry teach you to fix that?”

“You know what? Actually, yes.” Richie says, swinging his dish towel over his shoulder before starting to pick up a bunch of random tools and utensils, including two wooden spoons, leaving the room to join Ebra at the ice cream machine.

Another fucking thing in this place that doesn’t work, Carmy should probably just call Fak before Richie can break it even more, but it is not like the old machine can really get much worse, it’s and old piece of shit and almost no one ever orders the ice cream anyway, so why not let Richie feel a little useful.

· · · · ·

A swirl of steam dances in the air as you trace the rim of the mug with your finger, the aroma of the tea is filling the room, mixing with the scent from the lavender candle you have lit, enveloping your senses with a bittersweet nostalgia. 

You are sitting in your kitchen, staring out of the window, another night unable to sleep. The vague sound of the city filters through the glass along with the warm glow from the street lights and signs which are the only cause of light  along with the candle, its flickering flame casting a gentle shadow upon the room.   

You take a sip of the tea, feeling the warmth travel down your throat, before wrapping your hands around the warm mug, seeking comfort in its gentle heat. The steam rises and dissipates into the air, mirroring the ephemeral pattern of your tired thoughts. Outside the window, the city continues its nocturnal rhythm, its heartbeat resonating with your own. The distant sounds of car horns, and the occasional sound of the L train rumbling by and the vocational sirens mixing together into a harmonious cacophony. 

You close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, but you open them again quickly, wrinkling your nose. Something suddenly smells wrong… It’s vague, but it’s like burning plastic or something. You quickly look down at the candle to check if something got into it, but nothing is there. You don’t get to ponder more about it though, before a sudden, piercing sound slices through the tranquil ambiance of your kitchen. Your eyes widen in surprise as the shrill wail of a fire alarm blares from the apartment next door.

Concerned, you immediately put down your mug, while the smell of smoke starts to get more intense. This would normally be worrying enough, but what’s the real kicker to your concern is that no one’s lived in the apartment next to yours in the last four months. You stand up, stepping into your slippers while grabbing the zip up hoodie you had hanging on the back of your chair. You quickly throw the hoodie around you, slipping your arms into the sleeves and wrapping the oversized garment around you, not bothering zipping it.

You blow out the candle, as you quickly grab your phone, sliding it into the pocket of your sweatpants. You Swiftly make your way through your apartment, stepping out into the hallway, the smell of smoke now stronger. The ear-splitting beeps of the fire alarm continue to echo through the corridor as you approach the door of your neighboring apartment. You hesitate for a moment, You try to listen if you can hear anything from inside, but all you can hear is the sound of the alarm. 

Has someone really moved in without you noticing? But how likely is it that a spontaneous fire starts in an unoccupied apartment? Raising your hand you knock on the door. Nothing happens, and panic grips your chest, thoughts of evacuation and calling the fire department race through your mind, but you are pulled out of your spiraling thoughts as all of a sudden the loud beeping stops and you can now hear a vague shuffling sound from inside the apartment. 

You knock again, your heart beating fastly as you wait. There is someone in there, and you both get worried that they might not be okay and need help while you simultaneously  feel weird about someone being inside the apartment you thought was empty. 

The seconds stretch as you wait for a response. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, but in reality only is a few seconds, the door creaks open, revealing a disheveled figure standing before you, and you are met with a pair of eyes so piercing blue that it catches you off guard.  They belong to a man, around your own age if you have to guess, dirty blonde curls framing his face in a messy, yet oddly charming way. 

He is wearing a white t-shirt, which you can’t help but notice is hugging his biceps extremely nicely, with tattoos scattered across his arms and hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a look on his face that screams of pure exhaustion, yet his eyes are wide and alert, like someone who has just been woken abruptly.

“Hi,” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man. “I heard the fire alarm and smelled smoke, I just wanted to check that everything was okay, I-I live next door,” you say, sheepishly pointing in the direction of your door. 

“Oh, hi,” the man replies, his voice slightly hoarse and rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while, yet soft. “I-I’m so sorry if I woke you. I… I accidentally burnt some shit, I’m sorry,” he says a bit bashfully, his cheeks turning slightly pink. A short moment of silence hangs between you both as you process the situation. 

You can see the genuine embarrassment in his eyes, which brings a sense of ease to your worried mind. He seems harmless enough, just a regular person who made a mistake. You decide to let him off the hook, even though his explanation doesn’t quite match up with the intensity of the burning smell that fills the air, offering him a supportive but also slightly shy smile. “Accidents happen, don’t worry about it. I’m a terrible cook too,” you say, trying to lightning the mood. 

“Well, I’m actually a chef,” he says a little awkwardly. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mea-”, you stammer, trailing off as you realize your unintentional insult, but he cuts you off in the same sheepish tone as you.

“No, no, it’s fine I didn’t mean…” he begins to say before shutting up mid sentence, and the two of you share a brief, awkward but understanding laugh before another silence settles between you. 

Now that you have been made sure that nothing urgent is going on you take a second to take him better in, and you can’t help but notice how attractive you find him, captivated by the piercing blue eyes and intrigued by the subtle tattoos that peek out from under his short sleeves, now realizing that several of them are kitchen themed.

“So, everything’s under control now?” you ask, tearing your gaze from his arms as you realize that you had been staring for a little too long, glancing past him into the apartment. The lingering scent of smoke still hangs heavily in the air.

He nods, running a hand through his rumpled locks. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine now,” he reassures, but the smell of smoke still hangs very heavily in the air.   

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to invite him into your apartment while his gets aired out. You don’t know him, and inviting a stranger into your apartment in the middle of the night isn’t really ideal, but something about his tired eyes and disheveled appearance tugs at your heartstrings, and you can’t shake off the feeling that he might need some company. And with the tired, almost haunted look in his eyes you also can’t help but be reminded of Michael.  

Michael had lived in the apartment next to yours when you moved in six months ago. You did not know him well, but he had always been friendly when you talked to him. He seemed like the type of guy who is friends with everyone, despite it being clear that he was dealing with some internal shit. 

One night you had encountered him in the hallway and he had seemed off. You were on your way home, and he was on his way out. He appeared caught off guard by your presence, and after you greeted him, he had just turned around and walked back into his apartment instead of leaving the building like he was supposed to. Little did you know that it was the last time you would see your old neighbor. A week later, you learned that he had tragically taken his own life on the State Street Bridge, just five days after your last encounter in the hallway.

You have thought about it a lot for the past four months: how he might have planned to go to the bridge the night you ran into him in the hall, and how, if you had done the same just a few days later, things might have turned out differently for him. 

You don’t want to assume that your new neighbor’s situation is as dire, but you also don’t want to underestimate the impact a small act of kindness can have and now, seeing this man standing before you with a similar look of exhaustion and vulnerability, you can’t help but feel a sense of responsibility to offer him some support.

“Hey, um... I know this might sound a little strange, but if you need a place to stay while your apartment airs out, you’re welcome to come to my place,” you offer, your voice filled with genuine concern.

The man’s tired eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard by your unexpected invitation. “That’s incredibly kind of you, but I wouldn’t want you to lose any more sleep because of me,” he responds, his voice filled with gratitude and a hint of hesitation. 

You are quick to shake your head, realizing that you never told him that he didn’t wake you. “Oh, you haven’t made me lose any sleep, I was already awake, so please don’t worry about that.” The man’s shoulders relax a bit, a little of the tension melting away. He takes a moment to consider your offer, his gaze flickering between your face and the open doorway of his smoke-filled apartment. The exhaustion in his eyes is undeniable..

“No pressure,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “But, seriously you are more than welcome, I can make some coffee, I got both normal and decaf, or some tea. I also have some leftover takeout in the fridge, I could need some help to get eaten, if you’re hungry.”

The man’s hesitant expression softens, and he offers a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I don’t want to impose, but coffee does sound really good.”

You nod understandingly. “Of course, no imposition at all.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll just get some of these windows cracked open then,” the man says, stepping back into his apartment and disappearing from view for a moment. You hear the sound of windows being opened, the crisp night air filtering in and mingling with the heavy aroma of smoke. 

You turn your head, for some reason you feel a little rude to stand staring into his apartment even though you just invited him into yours, your eyes landing on the nameplate next to the door. Berzatto. It has not been changed since Michael. 

After a few moments, the man reappears at the doorway, now holding a light jacket under his arm, and his keys, phone and a pack of cigarettes in his hand. His disheveled appearance remains, but there’s a glimmer of gratitude in his tired eyes. 

“Ready to go?” you ask, offering a reassuring smile.

He nods, stepping out into the hall with you. 

“You know, uhm,” you say, pointing at the nameplate. “You can talk to the resident manager.” His eyes following the direction of your finger. “He’ll help you get your name up.”

“Oh, no that’s… that’s me,” he says, sheepishly pointing at the nameplate. “Well, it’s also me,” he explains, a little clumsily, before turning to you again. “I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno

#springtyme writes #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x f!reader #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #the bear x reader #the bear fic #the bear fandom #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white

[letterlitter]

Blanket Warm

Lando Norris x F1 academy driver reader

Wordcount: 1k

Tags: fluff

•in which you become unwell after a racing accident and Lando is determined to take care of you.

"Two weeks off the track. Start physiotherapy on week two, then come back to see me. Hopefully you'll be back to racing in no time." The team's doctor smiled and handed you your prescription, along with a paper that said you had to rest and weren't in a condition to race.

Now you were at home all day, trying to keep yourself busy but there wasn't much to be done. Only if you'd been more careful during testing for the F1 academy. The crash wasn't that hard and it didn't ruin the car's livery much, but it sent it spinning several times to finally hit the wall, causing you to strain a neck muscle quite hard. You were okay during the check up, but how you tumbled around whith every step after getting out of bed the next morning scared you.

Lando, who had ran after you to keep you from falling, insisted to drive you to the doctor when the dizziness didn't get better after a couple of hours like you had said to convince him it's nothing. So there you were, having nowhere to go and nothing to do. Thankfully the F1 season hadn't started yet, so you and Lando had the house all to yourself after the briefing session he had to attend. Except, this was no regular holiday.

---****---

"No no, you need to sit down." Lando told you as he pulled you to the couch when he saw you stumbling while trying to make dinner. "I'll take care of things."

"Lando you can't cook" you smiled sarcastically, "I can do it."

Lando gave you a sassy side eye, "what did you say?"

"Well can you? Cook?"

He stood in a defeated silence and finally replied "okay I can't. But I can carry myself. I've got the internet and everything."

You sighed in disagreement.

"Come on babe. I am not letting you do anything. I may not be able to cook but no offence, you're not able to stand straight."

You bit the inside of your cheeks to hide your laughter.

"If you want to get better and go back soon, you have to listen to the doctor."

He waited and stared at you until you agreed. You couldn't resist those ocean blue puppy eyes anyway. And he was correct.

"Alright." You sighed, "but I will sit in the kitchen and tell you what to do."

"Oh no you won't." Lando stood up and pulled your arm to himself, threw it over his shoulder and lifted your body off the couch like firemen do; Making you squeak in surprise, "you're not doing anything but rest sweetheart. Let's get you to bed."

He finally put you on the bed, tucked you in, and you could tell moving you up the stairs was a little bit of a workout for his tiny, F1 driver arms. He didn't complain and you didn't either. It made your heart warm to see how he cared about your well being and the lengths he would go to to make sure you were alright. You were willing to do the same for him any day.

"Get some more sleep. I'll come and wake you up when everything's ready okay?"

Lando responded to your under breath "whatever you say" with a kiss on the forehead and left you to the silence of the room.

When you woke up two hours later, the smell of fried beef and cheese had came up all the way to your room. Surprisingly, it didn't smell as if something was burned or nasty.

Lando walked in all of a sudden with a big tray, pushing the door open with his back,

"Oh shit you're awake." He went right back out, making you laugh.

He came back empty handed and stood right next to your bed.

"Madam..." he helped you sit up eventhough you were capable of doing so yourself. Your head wasn't that dizzy but he still wanted to make sure everything is well.

Lando, who had wrapped a napkin around his waist stood infront of you like a waiter, "now that you are awake my dear lady, dinner will be served." He went back out and grabbed the tray he had left on the floor.

"I couldn't do a longer intro I was afraid it would get cold." And he put the tray on the bed beside you. He had made lasagna.

"Oh wow. Very well executed sir." You wanted to go along with the theme he started.

"Than you madam. Hopefully you'll like it. First..." he handed you the wet towel he had brought. He knew you hated eating before washing your hands and face after you wake up.

"Let's see." You lifted your fork and started slicing the piece.

"Hmmm, this is great Lando."

He smiled with satisfaction. You had never complimented him on his cooking before.

"It's a bit salty to be fair but how the hell did you do this?"

"My mom, a really long video call, many many dirty dishes and one broken one."

You smiled. It was the best you could ask for. Your boyfriend who cares for you, your house you could rest in, and so much comfort. Your life had been passing on such a fast track lately that you couldn't step back to appreciate the little things that were yours. This injury, how frustrating it was, had made you realize how grateful you are for the people who love you.

"What about you?" You said with you mouth half full.

"Oh I have tasted everything so many damn times I am completely full. No no really, that's all yours. My mom kept asking me to describe the taste for her like it's a competition."

You laughed "Well. I think you have won."

"I don't think you would say that if you saw what's going on downstairs."

---****---

The next 10 days went by really quickly. You were trying to get better and Lando was doing his best to keep your dizzy head entertained.

He would help you get dressed, tie your shoes, brush your hair and sit down on the couch to watch a movie with you. He would make you hot chocolate and give you your medication; and when the physiotherapy was due, he would message your neck gently like the doctor had taught him. He kept making you food and finally agreed to get some help from you when he almost burned down the kitchen.

And all he replied when you thanked him was "anything for my girl."

You finally reached full recovery a little sooner than two weeks. The doctor told you "everything seems in place. You must've had quite a good rest."

"I had a good care taker." You replied, looking at your boyfriend with a loving smile.

He really, really was one.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 academy

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | check yes, juliet

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over halfway finished! i'll be posting poisoned mercury playlists soon! pls continue to send me songs that remind you of this series. i'm running out of songs to use as titles. thank u for all the love on this fic <3

series masterlist | previous | next

vi. check yes, juliet by we the kings

“where are we going?” 

“are you going to ask that every two seconds?” 

“you kidnapped me, castellan.” 

luke stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at you. you were about a quarter mile away from camp now, and it seemed like every ten steps, you asked him the same question. if he didn’t find you so cute, he would turn around and walk straight back to camp. 

“i will throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way there, five star,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes teasingly. he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but by the look on your face, you certainly were. “don’t test me.” 

“and i will scream bloody murder if you do,” you narrowed your eyes at him in a challenging manner. 

“here i am, trying to do something nice for you and you accuse me of kidnapping you,” luke continued his steps, slowing down to let you catch up to him. he didn’t realize how much shorter you were than him. the top of your head just went past his shoulders, but your personality made up for the difference. “we’re almost there, keep up.” 

“not everyone has long legs, castellan,” you huffed, increasing your pace. “slow down.” 

“do you want to get there or not?” he asked, throwing you a teasing smile over his shoulder. you guys really needed to get there soon. the sun was beginning to set and he didn’t want you to have to walk in the dark, even if he was with you. your safety came first, above everything, and he wasn’t gonna put you in a potentially dangerous situation. 

you whined, tugging on the side of his t-shirt, “how much longer?” 

“that’s it,” luke declared, squatting down to throw you over his shoulder. you squealed, hitting his back with your balled up fists. he knew you didn’t do it to hurt him. he can feel you pulling your punches. 

you felt the vibrations from his laughter on his back. luke was enjoying this too much. he carried you over his shoulder like it was nothing. perhaps all those morning workouts were paying off. you twisted your neck to scold him, thankful that he couldn’t see the smile on your lips, “put me down, i swear to god.” 

“nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ he tapped your calf with his fingers, “it’s just around the corner.” 

luke put you down in front of a building. there were five store fronts, three of which had faulty neon lights. you could barely make out the store names. the other two stores had signs up declaring vacancy. it was a little sketchy, but luke seemed to love it. he had his hands on his hips, staring up at the sign that seemed to say “achilles arcade.” 

“what is this place?” luke held the door open for you as you wandered inside the store. the place was dimly lit with old-school arcade games lining the walls. an old man was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the morning paper. 

“just wait,” luke grinned, pulling on your hand to lead you to get some tokens, “chiron! my man.” 

the man placed the newspaper on the surface, eyes lighting up at the sound of luke’s voice. he beamed, “luke castellan! i was afraid you weren’t gonna come back.” 

“you know i keep my promises,” luke let go of your hand, introducing you to chiron, “chiron, this is yn. she goes to camp with me.” 

“pleasure to meet you,” he tipped his head, reaching under the counter to dig out a bucket full of golden tokens. 

you took out your wallet, “how much do we owe you?” 

“on the house,” he waved off, “he donated a ridiculous sum of money to keep this place up and running. too generous, this one, so it wouldn’t be right for me to charge you when he’s keeping me in business.” 

luke shook his head, sliding a hundred across the counter anyway. he took your wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, knowing that you’ll probably try to slip him some cash if he didn’t. you grumbled, but decided not to pick a fight. it didn’t seem like one you’d win. 

luke grabbed the bucket by the handle and turned to you, “where do you want to start, five star?” 

“you took me to an arcade?” 

“yeah,” luke said, sheepishly, “whenever i run out of cigs, i always go to an arcade to keep my mind off things. it’s childish, but it works. figured you could try it. plus, there’s a smoke shop across the street so we can go there when we’re done here.” 

“only one thing is better than the feeling of a new cherry ice vape,” you got close to him, nearly toe to toe. luke could smell the perfume on your skin, the scent of your shampoo, and his cologne that lingered on the hoodie of his that you wore. he reminded you that you always got cold and that you should bring a sweater, but you assured him that you wouldn’t. halfway to the arcade, you were shivering and luke knew that he made the right decision bringing his hoodie with him. 

you rolled your eyes, but accepted it. his hoodie stopped mid-thigh and engulfed you, but it looked better on you than it ever did on him. something about you wearing a hoodie that had his band name on it made his heart skip a beat. he had to listen to you make fun of him for tripping over air after he saw you in his clothes, but he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

he licked his lips, eyes darting to your own, “and what is that, five star?”

“beating your ass at galaga.” 

luke’s laughter echoed throughout the empty arcade as you ran from him with the tokens in your hand. you looked back at him with a mischievous smile on your face and he felt his heartstrings tug in his chest. you stuck your tongue out at him, starting the game as he stayed in his spot, admiring you. 

there weren’t many moments where he could be out in public like this, so when his mom reluctantly agreed to stop at this building on the way to camp due to a flat tire, luke and the boys were ecstatic to find that there was an empty arcade hidden in montauk. luke talked to chiron and learned his story while the boys played random games to kill the time. luke found out that the arcade wasn’t doing well financially with the increase in rent prices and that they would have to close down at the end of the summer if things don’t pick up again. chiron mentioned that he and his partner started this business twenty years ago, and he was sad to see it go. 

luke excused himself and snuck back into the tour bus to grab his checkbook. he wrote a check that covered rent and other expenses for the year and gave it to chiron. of course the man refused it, but luke wasn’t taking no for an answer, not after chiron shared that the arcade was the last living piece of his partner. luke castellan was a hopeless romantic, which not many people knew. he knew he was done for the minute he heard their love story. 

he stood there for a few moments, watching as you cheered, dodging the blasts of your enemies. you were so animated while you played, so expressive with your eyes and your voice. he’d only seen you like this a handful of times, talking to clarisse about god knows what, talking to the younger campers and asking them questions about their projects and interests, and when you asked him about his music. all of your monotoned replies and deadpan looks were all he got for the longest time, it seemed like your nonchalance was only for him, so it was nice to see you like this. it felt like you were warming up to him. 

he thought about the talk the two of you had in your room, how different you’d been then. after being iced out for weeks, luke was a little shocked at how soft you were with him earlier, playing with his rings, holding his hand, talking to him. it was a welcomed surprise, of course, but he expected you to kick him to the curb. he still didn’t understand what actually happened after the concert, but he figured you already had a tough day, so that conversation can wait. 

he made his way to you, leaning across the screen to slightly block your view, “you might be better than me at this game, but your ass is mine at guitar hero.” 

“not fair,” you were focused on the game, eyes glued on the screen in front of you. “you’re in a band. of course you’re gonna be better than me at that.” 

“life’s not fair, five star,” luke poked your side, making you squirm. you died in the game because of it. “my turn, yeah?” 

you shoved his chest, reluctantly moving over. “you cheated.” 

he looked over his shoulder, smirking, “how did i cheat?” 

“you distracted me!” 

“i did not!” he argued, chuckles escaping his lips. his tongue darted out the corner of his mouth. his concentration face was annoyingly attractive. 

“did too,” you mumbled, watching over his shoulder to see how he was doing. he was doing really well. damn teenage boys and their affinity for video games. your chin rested comfortably on his shoulder blade as you watched him play. 

luke’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly too aware that you were so close to him. he could feel your breath against the nape of his neck, your lips dangerously close to where his tattoo was. he snuck a glance at you, noting how you were too focused on his score inching closer to your own. 

“ha!” you yelled, pulling away from him. you bumped his hip with yours, moving him out of the way, “my turn.” 

“okay, you cheated.” 

you hit pause on the game, placing your hands on your waist, “how?” 

“you were distracting me! putting your head on my shoulder and shit.” 

“awww,” you cooed, playfulness in your tone, “do i make you nervous?” 

luke’s face flushed. he shook his head, tilting his head down to hide the color on his face. he rubbed the back of his neck, “play your fucking game.” 

you said something about him being a sore loser and cheered loudly when you beat his score. when you both ran out of lives, luke led you to guitar hero and as expected, kicked your ass at the game. the two of you played in the arcade until there was one golden token left in the bottom of the bucket. as you wandered around the room, your eyes landed on a black and white photobooth tucked away in the corner. 

“let’s take some pictures,” you grabbed his hand, leading him over there before he could say no. you shoved him inside the photobooth, tapping his knee to make him stop manspreading on the small bench. 

it could barely fit two people so it was a tight squeeze. you were sitting so close to luke, thighs pressed together as you tapped on the small screen to begin the process. luke could feel the warmth of your skin against his and he was glad that there was no colored photos option because his cheeks were bright red. maybe he can blame the lights making him feel hot if you brought it up, but he wasn’t sure if his voice even worked enough to utter out his excuse. 

“you better smile, castellan,” you threatened, turning to look at him before you inserted the token in the slot. “not that little side smirk shit that you do in all your pictures.” 

“what side smirk?” 

“that thing you do in your pictures!” you shouted, “in every single instagram post, you always do it.” 

luke raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile appearing on his lips, “you’ve stalked my instagram?” 

“not the point,” you ducked, pretending to mess with the settings of the photobooth. luke can see your shy smile on the screen in front of him. “i’m just saying, smile normally.” 

“that’s how i smile, five star! what do you want me to do?” 

“that is not how you smile!” you argued. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you faced him. he was already looking at you, soft eyes and a hint of a smile on his features. a stray curl was out of place on his head and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over to put it back in place. luke held his breath as your fingers grazed the side of his face, taking much longer than you needed to fix his hair. your thumb subconsciously rubbed against the scar on his cheek. luke let his eyes close at the feeling. 

“there,” you whispered, pulling your hand back to your side. “that’s how you smile.” 

he tried his best to keep that same expression on his face to see what you were talking about. he glanced at the screen and found himself stunned at what he found. you were right. this is not how he looked in his instagram pictures. he almost didn’t recognize himself as he stared. he looked different like this. 

there were no creases between his eyebrows or on his forehead, like there was no stress on his shoulders. his eyes looked brighter somehow as if he was at peace, exactly where he needed to be at that moment. his lips were quirked up in a tender smile, parts of his teeth showing between the gap of his top lip and bottom lip. did he always look like this when he was with you? awe-struck and enraptured by your presence? 

he should feel pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were looking at him like you enjoyed this clandestine look on his face, a look that he reserved only for you. he couldn’t feel pathetic when you were looking at him in the same way. a secret language between the two of you, that nobody else in the world could even begin to understand.

the countdown on the screen started and luke was pulled from his thoughts quickly when you pressed your cheek against his, grinning as the timer flashed across the screen. he let himself smile, teeth on full display before the flash went off. the second countdown began and luke watched you fumble around to pick the next pose. you settled on a silly pose, sticking your tongue out as you held up the ‘rock and roll’ sign with your hand. he followed your lead, letting a snicker leave his lips at how fitting the pose was. 

the final photo was uncoordinated. luke wasn’t ready for the flash to go off. you placed your hand on his shoulder, craning your neck to look up at him. if he leaned down an inch or two, his lips would touch yours. the realization had the wires in his brain crossed. when the machine took the picture, luke was staring lovingly into your eyes, a look of indecision on his face. his lips were curled into a bashful smile, the tip of his nose touching yours. 

“five star,” luke breathed out, his arm snaking around your waist. your leg was now placed on top of his own. 

you gulped, nudging his nose with yours, “luke…” 

he’d never heard his name leave your lips before other than when you were mocking the gossips you heard about him. he’d never heard your real voice call him by his name. now that he has, he was addicted to the sound of it. he never liked his name that much, but somehow, when you said it, it sounded like poetry. he never thought a single syllable could sound so beautiful, have his knees buckling at the utterance of it. but with you, he supposed there was always a first for everything. 

when the bright red words stating “your photos are ready!” illuminated the inside of the photobooth, the two of you jumped apart from each other, blushing wildly. luke took a moment for himself inside the photobooth, rubbing his face with his palms, as you walked out to retrieve the pictures. luke followed you after taking a few deep breaths. 

he saw you leaning against the wall, the two strips of pictures in your hand. you had a goofy grin on your face, admiring them. luke sauntered next to you, taking a look at the photos. 

he accepted the strip of photos you handed him, “we probably should’ve discussed our poses beforehand.” 

“i dunno,” you were still staring at the pictures, biting your bottom lip. “i like ‘em.”

luke hummed, taking out his wallet. he folded the strip in threes, slotting the last photo in the clear compartment of his wallet. it looked perfect against the black leather, like it was the last thing needed to make his wallet look complete. he slipped it back in his back pocket, taking yours out to return to you. 

“smoke shop?” he asked. 

“please,” you nodded, beginning to walk out of the arcade. you waved goodbye to chiron who moved onto doing the daily crossword. “bye chiron! great to meet you!” 

he bid the two of you goodbye, a knowing gaze on his face. you were already out the door when he sent luke a wink that had him shaking his head, face turning red at the man’s antics. luke shut the door behind him, ushering you over to the sidewalk towards the smoke shop, “i’m out of cigs too, so this is actually perfect timing.” 

you waited outside the smoke shop, sitting on the curb. luke had a fake id (for research purposes, of course. he was just curious to see what the kentucky ids looked like.) so he bought your vape and his cigarettes. when he emerged, he joined you on the curb, pulling out his phone to call an uber back to camp. 

the sun was long gone and he could hear the owls hooting in the distance. it was not a good idea to walk back to camp, even if it wasn’t even a mile away. he watched you unwrap your vape, taking a small hit from it. he lit his cigarette with the lighter he carried with him and smoked with you in silence. 

“uber is gonna take twenty minutes,” he said, placing his phone between the two of you, face up. “i’m guessing there’s not many people around here.” 

you glanced at his phone, giggling at his lockscreen. it was a picture of the entire band, wearing matching novelty sunglasses taken at a .5 angle. they looked ridiculously like the guys you’ve grown to adore. “i like your lockscreen.” 

luke tapped his phone to wake it up. he let out a laugh, “mom took it when we played vegas for the first time. we were too young to go out and we were too afraid to use our fakes so we went to m&m world and got wired on sugar.” 

“you guys are really close, huh?” 

“got to be,” luke shrugged, “we’re together 24/7, but even before that… these guys are my brothers. love ‘em, even when they’re a pain in my ass. what’s your lockscreen?” 

you pulled out your phone, showing him the picture of you, clarisse, and silena flipping off the camera. it was taken during one of your (failed) attempts at studying at the library. you were all in sweatpants and large hoodies with the stress of midterms evident on your faces. “that’s silena, my other best friend from unc. her boyfriend, charlie, took this picture because he said we looked absolutely miserable. and we do, but it makes me happy looking back at it. we were struggling together and we somehow made it out together.” 

“i do not miss school at all,” luke blew out the smoke in his mouth, “i was a shit student.” 

“but now look at you,” you teased, “mr. rockstar.” 

“yeah, yeah,” luke copied your voice, “can’t complain.” 

you hummed, tucking your vape in the pocket of luke’s hoodie, “you can, especially with me. i’m the number one hater, so i enjoy complaining quite a bit.” 

“oh, i know.” 

you smacked his arm, rolling your eyes as he stumbled in his seat, laughing. you cleared your throat, voice turning serious, “seriously. i owe you for today, so complain to me all you want.” 

“you don’t owe me shit, five star,” luke put out his cigarette, standing up as his phone alerted him that the uber was coming soon. he held out his hand to help you up. “but i will take you up on that offer. of course, i can only do that if you don’t ignore me for weeks again.” 

you slapped his hand away, shaking your head, smiling, “shut the fuck up.” 

luke flagged down the uber, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you into the backseat. you entered, making polite conversations with the lady in the driver’s seat. 

“for chase?” 

luke nodded, “yup, thanks so much.” 

as the car drove off in the direction of camp, you turned to luke, mouthing, “chase?” 

he took out his wallet and handed you his fake id: chase reed, brown eyes, brown hair, 5’11. 

luke safely tucked the id back in its slot when you tossed it back at him, giggling at his alter-ego. he didn’t say anything when you moved closer to him, sitting in the middle seat, and held his hand the rest of the way back to camp.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series

[dawndelion-winery]

Thanks for the Flowers

You send them a little prank thank you text with flowers they never sent

Ft: Alhaitham, Arlechinno, Childe, Scaramouche, Wriothesley

Alhaitham:

You thought it would be a funny prank to send him a stock image of flowers and a small thank you

"Glad you like them."

He smiles to himself, but then immediately deleted his message when he sees the attached image

That wasn't the bouquet he sent

His smile drops so fast because who exactly is sending you flowers apart from him?

"Throw those out, they aren't from me. Don't you like the one I sent more? I got your favourites, my love."

He gives the house a cursory scan the moment he steps in through the front door

It's only after you've given him his welcome home kiss and a hug that he starts looking for the bouquet for some trace of who the sender might be

At first he doesn't believe you when you say it's a prank because he wouldn't put it past you to just want to allay his worries

He'll come around though, and then he's annoyed

"That's childish and you know it, you can have my attention if you just ask for it."

Arlechinno:

This is her sign to publicly announce that you're with her because this sort of idiocy wouldn't be an issue if people knew you were spoken for

Initially chuckles to herself as she glares at the offending image

"Do you like them?"

Of course she's not telling you the weren't from her if you like them

The poor sucker who sent them to you deserves no credit anyway

If anything, they deserve her personal thanks for helping her gift you something!

Of course she needs to know their name and face to express her gratitude in person <33

In a totally genuine and non-threatening way (lie)

She ends up coming home late that day, having scared off any of your potential suitors just to be safe

"Had some unsavoury business come up, dearest, sorry to keep you waiting. Have you had dinner yet? No? Shall we dine together?"

She never brings it up though, so you sorta forget to ever tell her it was a joke

Childe:

At first he doesn't process that he didn't send you the flowers

It's not like he doesn't pay attention, but he has his subordinates send you so much stuff as he comes across it that it's really hard to keep track

For all he knows it might have been something he came across and spontaneously thought of you liking it

And your likes were pretty much needs to him

"Love you, my pookie <33"

And then he stows his phone away

Only to remember he hasn't gotten you any flowers that day

"My honey drumlet darling-kins, there doesn't happen to be a note attached to the flowers, is there?"

When you insist that no, there isn't, and you've checked thoroughly, he makes a mental note to look into anyone who's ever had a crush on you

For a friendly spar, of course!

He just needs to make sure his competition is even worth noting (they aren't)

He comes home, thoroughly disappointed that none of them could even hold their own against him - few even dared to try, scared shitless by the sudden appearance of a harbinger demanding they fight

Sweaty and tired, he's all over you, whining about his day and how everyone wants you and can't take a hint that you're so happy with him ("You are, aren't you? I'm your favourite.")

Of course you cave and tell him it was only a prank

He scowls at first, but then breaks out giggling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck

"It doesn't really matter because I think they're all scared of me anyway. Some of them took one look at me and blanched. Unlike you, of course; the sight of me excites you, doesn't it?"

Ah. There's your bastard ginger.

Scaramouche:

"Wrong number, I think you meant to text your side hoe."

Sends you the most unbothered replies

Is actually overthinking

He knows logically this is most likely a joke because he swears he has seen that bouquet somewhere on the internet when looking for flower arrangement inspiration

But what if it's just a really similar layout and someone actually did send it to you?

Horrible. He doesn't want to think about it

But of course he does anyway

Brings you flowers because he planned to sneakily replace the stranger's bouquet

Wriothesley:

"Honey, please tell me this is a joke."

Seething inside

Who in their right mind dared to covet you while you were happily dating him??

Don't even try evade his interrogation, he needs to know every detail

From the exact time the flowers were sent to the arrangement and paper quality

Don't mind him, it's just a small investigation he'll carry out in his free time

The sooner you come clean the better

Not that you'll go unpunished...but hey, confessing to your crimes must at least lighten the sentence, yeah?

Taglist: @ryuryuryuyurboat @yinyinggie @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @haliyarobin @irethepotato @boundedbyfate @favonius-captain @aqui-soba @tiredsleep @sadlonelybagel @mastering-procrastinating @lemeowade

#astronetwrk #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #arlecchino #childe #tartaglia #scaramouche #wanderer #wriothesley #alhaitham x reader #arlechinno x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #wriothesely x reader #genshin alhaitham #genshin arlecchino #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin wriothesley #winery specials

[charmercharm3r]

okay but after reading that 9th member boxing, i need to hear more instances where the boys see her practically naked. like idk at the the gym(again), practice, around the dorm, etc. like maybe she’s getting more comfortable with showing skin but only around the boys so it still catches them off guard cause of how new it still is to all of them

a lil blurb cus I thought this was cute

Masterlist

prev: one, next: three

☆ﾟ

You were just so tired, dehydrated, and felt sticky from sweating for the past god knows how many hours at dance practice. It was just you in the practice room for a while until Hyunjin convinced you that it was time to head home. He was surprised you were even still at the company, considering it was supposed to be a rest day for the group.

The two of you headed home together, him having to almost hold you up most of the way because it felt like your limbs were going to give out any second. “You can have the shower first, you’re kinda stinky,” he teased as he led you through the threshold.

“Gee, thanks! You’re so kind.” Hyunjin smirked at the sarcasm, nudging your shoulder before departing to his room.

Living in the dorm with him, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung was usually rather quiet when 3racha were gone. Hyunjin enjoyed his alone time, as did Jisung when he was home, though when everyone was back at the same time, there was no such thing as peace or personal space.

The only thing you were glad for was finally having your own room, how the company managed to find a 5 bedroom apartment, you had no idea, but you weren’t complaining in the slightest. Room not too small, just enough space for a bed, desk, and closet, you were comfortable.

Tossing your bag down and grabbing a clean towel, you headed to the bathroom before the rest of the members could come home.

There was a new bottle in the shower, brown and expensive looking. “Jinnie, did you get a new hair product?” You called out, picking it up to inspect.

“Yeah, I heard it was really good. Try a little if you want,” he yelled back from his room. Calling back a, "sure, thanks," you shut the door and started your shower.

There was so much on your find, you don't know how long you spent under the water. It took some time before you even undressed, looking at yourself in the mirror and examining what body part you thought might stand out for the public to talk about for the next come back. There was always something wrong, nothing you did ever felt good enough.

Sometimes your thighs were too big, sometimes your arms weren't toned enough. Oh no, you're wearing a crop top? Someone cover her up, she's seeking validation! God forbid you wear anything other than long sleeves because elbows are just too sexy. As if she doesn't get enough spotlight already being in an all male group, gotta have a part in the song a second longer than the rest because you have to be the center of attention!

Another few minutes to let the water soak down to your bones, you took your time shampooing, soaping, everything in between and taking mental notes of things you needed to improve upon. One wrong step and it's over, not just for you, but your entire group, as well. If you were to be the reason they got dragged down-

No, that's the shower thoughts talking. Probably time to get out, anyways. Changbin will have a fit if he doesn't get some warm water for himself.

So consumed in your own head, you weren't thinking when you threw on just your bra and underwear and opened the bathroom door. Dirty clothes in one hand, rubbing the towel into your hair, the trek to your bedroom through the house felt so long up until you got through the door.

The dorm was quiet, the others must still be out. Hyunjin won't show his face until dinner time, if you were fast you could grab a snack from the kitchen. Yeah, it won't take longer than a minute. Make it quick-

You padded out of your bedroom and made it a step into the living room before stopping dead in your tracks, eight pairs of eyes looking at you big with mouths dropped so wide it could catch flies.

The other members were sitting in various places surrounding the couch and coffee table. Chan scratched at his ear and darted his eyes back and forth, unsure of whether or not to look. Minho didn't seemed like he cared too much, while Jisung and Seungmin obviously raked their gaze from your head to your toes. The other four focused on different areas, but you ran away as quickly as you came with a trail of beat red embarrassment to follow.

As soon as the door slammed shut you threw your pajamas on and paced back for forth for a bit.

You should just act like nothing happened. They probably don't care. No, they definitely don't care. They're just body parts and everyone has them. But they were your body parts. For as long as you'd known them, you'd been so careful.

It's fine- they're not prudes, they're young adults that watch more porn than you ever could in your life time. They're just boys. Your boys. Your best friends. Yeah, they won't care. It's fine. You're fine. You're-

"Y/N'ie?"

A knock on your door had you stutter in your steps. When you didn't respond, the voice spoke again, "there's food here if you wanna join."

It took you another second to process what had just happened. The floor creaked on the other side and you panicked again, "Felix?"

The footsteps backtracked and stopped outside your door again, "yeah?"

"What kind of food?" He giggled lightly to himself.

"Come eat with us and you'll find out."

Slowly you came to the door, torn on hiding in your room for the next few hours or facing the eight people that caused your massive embarrassment in the first place. It felt so stupid to even feel such a way around those who you'd already been through hell and back with, the same people you've lived with and known for years and have seen you at your worst.

Felix's weight leaning against the other side of the door made him stumble forward when you finally opened it. Setting aside his momentary hiccup, he smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder to bring into a quick hug. You let him drape over you as you made your way back into the living room where everyone else was waiting.

Quiet as you sat down between Minho and Jeongin- Felix across the coffee table, quiet as you grabbed a pair of chopstick, quiet as you began to eat. The eight of them watched you chew, chew, swallow, not moving a muscle as though they were walking on eggshells as not to scare you off.

Now you felt stupid. This was stupid. Just body parts. They're just body parts.

"Stop staring at me, virgins. Eat before it gets cold." Minho at your side dug in first, then the rest followed suit as you all enjoyed the meal together.

You could feel Jeongin taking quick peaks at you as you ate. He jolted a little when you nudged his shoulder to get him to talk. A light blush flooded his cheeks and ears, putting another piece onto your plate as he leaned in to whisper, "you looked really pretty."

"Don't spread gossip, Yang Jeongin. Share it with the table," Jisung teased and drew the attention of the rest of the members.

"Look, he's flustered. What'd you say to Y/N'ie?" Hyunjin joined in and ruffled the younger's hair.

"Nothing! It's none of your business-"

"He called me pretty," you played along and pinched Jeongin's cheek, making him swat you and Hyunjin away with a few curses under his breath. Giggling and picking up your chopsticks again, you brought some food to your mouth, "you wanna kiss me sooo bad."

All of them spoke at once, "yes."

"Wait, what?" Quiet again. What is it with them and perfectly timed silence?

When you faced Minho, he was particularly unashamed in the way he eyed your lips as you slowly chewed your food. You looked at them around the table, "ew. Bitchless. All of you," and stole a large portion of food to take back to your room.

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffi t@fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchandler @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids 9th member #skz #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #skz 9th member #stray kids ot8 #skz ot8 #stray kids imagines #stray kids head cannons #stray kids imagine #stray kids headcannon #stray kids x yn #stray kids x you #skz x yn #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader

[privitivium]

Big buff bossy gangster just bumping into Subtop M reader one day and suddenly becoming obsessed with them to the point where M reader has no choice but to submit to his advances cause if not well he's dead. Subtop M reader has to admit tho that he loves fucking him especially in risky places cause seeing him trying to keep his voice down satisfies Subtop M reader especially with his tiddies bouncing with each thrust

-⚰️

i absolutely adore your writings :)) and no need to rush alright? i'm willing to wait haha

thank you dear coffin, i adore you......

yes…..….. this is refreshing. 💥💥🌹these are ideas. thoughts…… i might post more of this guy as an actual full-fledged fic where he actually stalks you as i enjoy big breast men 💥💥💥🌹🌹🌹must… must write more to be more… detailed…. uaghugh

amab bossy gangster x amab m reader

pt 2 rambles :3 cw;; dubcon, exhibition, stalker - yandere tendences?

love at first sight… for him at least. a towering muscly dude with visible scars here and there along his “handsome” face with layered platinum blond hair doing his rounds with a couple of lackeys… unintentionally not looking where he was goingㅡ

ㅡ“oh, whoopsie.. you alright, man?” cautious not to put your hands on the other person who accidentally stepped on your foot and took a slight tumble; swallowing thickly, comedically as the man raises to his full height without a word - towering over you with his pecs center to your eyes, some big platinum blond muscleheadㅡ“haha… y-ou … you alright?” you offer your hand, even if he was already standing and most certainly did not need your help -

“fine.” he waves you off, leaving wordlessly but not before giving you a nasty glower. uagh, jeez.. what's that guy's problem? not like you were looking to instigate or something but still… you obviously did not mean to trip him! didnt he see how sympathetic you were just then? some people…

unbeknownst to you, he was fuming. that was how your first official meeting went?! argh!! his companions, his lackeys noting his upset and commenting on the matter ; “what's the matter? you wanna go back n’ pummel that guy, boss?” 

“no, no…” the hulking mass of muscle shakes his head - thin layers of platinum blond hair, waving his hand dismissively while seeming to be in thought - stalling down the walkway and making a swift turn down a narrow alleyway, knuckleheads following close behind. “that's… my lover. my fated one to be, you idiots. how can you not see that?” 

ㅡhe’s delusional, his lackeys realize. but feed into it anyway. in the lair, a rundown two story house where he was answering questions and fiddling with several pictures taken of you just hours later. a quick question of “how can ya’ tell that's yer fated one to be??!” an excited pawn queried. the big boss man going off on an equally excited tangent - a happy explanation about how he doesn't even know. all he knows is that he took one look at your tripping sorry ass and immediately wanted to get down on his knees, uncaring if it was in the middle of a busy sidewalk..

or it could… be the something like, muscly bossy gangster runs into you a few times instead,,, neither of you forgetting one another because for you, it's a big ass intimidating guy who glares at you and nearly makes you piss your pants how can you not forgetㅡand for him - he's literally orchestrating his schedule around yours just to be bumping into you like this. tapping your phone, keeping you tracked through a device or having several of his companions follow you around…

and then, him. finally showing up to your fucking home on a friday night - 11 pm. forcing his way into your apartment and ignoring how terrified you looked and showing you all the pictures he took of you. like aren't you the cutest ? and you… staring at him, teary eyed and sniffling because you obviously cant fight back against this fucking behemoth who you accidentally tripped… this is your day of reckoning isn’t it…. dead if you do, dead if you don't, huh. well. eyeing his fat chest, looking over his stocky build.. this guy's in love with you that badly?! then.. he could never hurt you right…? haha… a spineless creature such as you submitting that easily, you can't help yourself and you cant blame yourself!!!

ㅡ"shh-sh..” he hisses softly, grunting as he fluidly jerks at your hardened prick over your jeans - your back pressed against a wall in a maze of alleyways. of course, its the go-to.. who are you to deny this bossy ass gangster when he wants to be fucked??? asking you so nicely… ( literally pulling you from the eyes of the public wordlessly. who was gonna say anything anyway??? they know of him and his status….) whimpering softly - music to his ears. wishing he could be recording this audio for his own needy purposes of jerking off to your shrine he made… plunging himself on your pre-cum and saliva lathered cock… it was mesmerizing. pulling up his shirt to reveal his abdomen - no complaint from the hulking bossy bitch as you fondle his chest. before he was switching positions and pressing his front into the wall and allowing you to hump into him at a lazy languid pace while groping at his meaty body underneath his tight-fitted shirt. he… has to remind you of who's the one in charge… “keep it down..” he reminds breathlessly, a grin spreading across his face as he pushes his hips back into you ㅡ deliberately clenching his gummy walls around yr meaty, aching dick - 

ㅡ“what's this?” 

“uhh… our conversation?” you squint, glancing between the hulking mass pining you and his hand holding his tiny phone - his hand was just … huge. displaying your messages, where he was the last one to send a message?

he inhales sharply at your obliviousness, huffing in obvious indignation - pushing you harder against the wall without intent. “you left me on seen.” he stresses the last word. did you?? he was nearly snarling like an animal with rabies. “why??” god, this guy is like an insecure girlfriend but 10 times worse. 

“... i got uh.. distractedㅡ” you squirm, avoiding eye contactㅡ

"distracted with what?” he intrudes, leaning inward - you could faintly smell a hint of mint and.. what is thatㅡcinnamon? what's this guy's problem, eating sweets and harrassing you?! and just a quick glance down would tell you everything you need to know. how awkward… do you even tell him or does he know that he's bulging? it throws you off… acting so moody but bricked up??? that's laughable and you can't help yourself. b-but you can't exactly laugh in good humor, hypnotized by the way his squishy pecs bounce up and down with his hole clamping on your cock ㅡ telling you in-between ragged breaths never to ignore him - yes, yes honey never in my life i will do such a thing, mhm..

#* ( ⚰️ ) !!! #yandere gangster?! #x male reader #male reader #top male reader #x top male reader #subtop m reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere m x m reader #ocs =͟͟͞͞★

[dilfl0v3rss]

im tryna see how ony dealed wit connie😁

nice and slow

continuation of ours

cw: m x m, ony cleaning his gun

word cound: 2.8k words

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

days have went by since ony told connie that he’d be “delt with” and he was starting to feel like he was off the hook. ony would still wake him in the morning with a kiss and he'd still act like his normal self throughout the day. "maybe he forgot" connie thought to himself as he eyed him from the other side of the living room. there he was, quietly cleaning his gun while he watched videos with his phone laid on his lap. his shirt probably on your small figure as he sat in just his pajama pants and durag. "need sum baby?" he didn't even need to move his head to know that his boyfriend was staring.

connies eyes widened a little as he continued to breathlessly stare at his lover. "when somebody say sum to you, its polite to answer." ony sucked his teeth, looking up from his phone with a pointed look that was shot directly at connie. "n-nah...nah m'good pa" a kind smile bloomed on his pink lips to sell the act that he's not panicking in his mind right now. why is he acting so normal? "shouldn't you be gettin ready right now anyways? you said you was gon drop suge off at mikasas for her lil spa day/sleepover shit."

before connie could reply, he was interrupted by your sweet voice. "m'ready papiii" you came down the steps with your duffle bag on your shoulder, letting it plop on the ground before walking to ony and giving him a kiss on the cheek. when your eyes met connie's pajama wearing figure you sucked your teeth. "babyyy why aren't you dressed. i don't wanna be late to miki's because of youuu" you whined, stomping your feet to add exaggeration.

connie gave you a stern look, making you stop instantly before getting up and grabbing his keys from his coat hung up at the door. "cut that shit out or you not going at all. ion need to be dressed if m'just dropping you off and coming back home." you shut up immediately, letting connie give you a kiss before you began walking quietly to the car while he carried your bag. "i can't get a kiss too?" ony mumbled, stopping connie dead in his tracks before he turned around. "my fault pa" he mumbled as he made his way to the couch, leaning down to give his boyfriend a kiss on the forehead.

his dick jumped in excitement when ony grabbed him by the neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the lips. his long tongue quickly winning dominance over connies as his grip on his neck grew tighter. strings of spit connected the two as ony moved his face back to speak. "drive safe" was all he said before loosening his grip, letting connie stand up straight before he replied. "i will pa, see you" ony's focus was put back on his gun as he listened to the front door close.

the drive to mikasa's was about twenty minutes there and back, but connie made sure to drive real slow so his boyfriend didn't get a notification that he was speeding. "bye babyyyy, see you tomorrowww!" you squealed before giving your boyfriend and quick kiss and practically sprinting out the car before he could reply. he chuckled at your excited little body jumping for joy at you knocked on mikasa's door. connie waited for you to go inside before driving back home.

as he walked in the door he noticed that ony was nowhere to be seen in the living room. his gun cleaning supplies were still laid out on the table as he walked deeper into the house. connie made his way to his room where he saw ony sitting on the edge of the bed. "was looking for you. what you doin?" his dark brown eyes gave connie a bone chilling stare as he toyed with the ring on his middle finger. "waiting for you...c'mere pretty boy lemme talk to you real quick."

ony bent his fingers in a come hither motion, making his lover's body move towards him on instinct. connie stood in between ony's legs as he leaned back on the bed, inked chest on full display for his light brown eyes to ogle. "you know you still in trouble right?" connie nodded his head. he never stopped thinking about what his boyfriend had in store for him, but now he doesn't have to anymore. todays the day he gets what he's been dreading.

"listen, ian mean to-" "sh sh sh...let papa do the talking aight? you just gon get yourself into more trouble and you don't want that now, do you?" connie quickly shook his head as he watched ony rise from his seat on the bed. connie was tall, standing at about 6'2. but ony was a little taller, larger frame standing in front of him as he licked his lips before moving to the side. "take allat shit off and lay down f'me." connie slowly removed his hoodie and tee shirt before toying with the waistband of his pajama pants.

ony grew annoyed at his slow pace, grabbing him by the back of the neck before pulling his ear towards his mouth. "hurry the fuck up or ima rip it." connies hands moved quickly, pulling down his pajama pants and letting his hard dick spring free. he didn't like to sleep with underwear so his boxers were nowhere to be seen. he lied down on his back while watching ony begin to crawl up towards him, sitting in between connies legs as he ran his big hands over his chest, purposely neglecting the leaking red tip near his belly button.

"what you supposed to do when i tell you something?" ony whispered, leaning over connies body with his hand resting right by his head as his free hand played with his nipples. "im 'posed to lis...listen papa...fuck" he stuttered as the large hand wrapped around his dick. ony began slowly stroking him, occasionally rubbing his thumb over his leaking tip as connies back arched off the bed. "mhmm but you aint do that, did you? nahh, you was being greedy." his pace quickened, heat running through connies dick as he thrusted himself into ony's hand to bring his release closer.

"just like you are right now. not being my good boy." connie groaned as the frictions stopped. ony sat on his knees as he freed his dick from his pants. "y-you gon prep me right?" a fearful expression on his light brown face as he looked at his boyfriends girthy dick. ony chuckled as before sticking two of his thick fingers in connies mouth. "m'not a monster, baby." the smaller man sighed in relief as he let his tongue swirl all over his fingers. spit falling down the sides of his mouth as ony continued to thrust them in and out of his wet cavern.

as he removed his fingers from connies mouth with a pop, ony groaned at the sight in front of him. plump spit soaked lips shining in the dim light of the room as his lover lay naked in the middle of the bed. pretty ink dancing along his fit body as his dick leaked precum onto his stomach. "you so sexy baby. making me wanna skip all this shit and fuck you right now." connie didn't get the chance to reply before ony rubbed his wet middle finger on his tight hole.

wetting it before breaching it lightly with half of his middle finger. "f-fuck pa" light brown hand instantly flying towards his wrist to stop his movements. ony's eyes snapped towards connies, giving him and stern look that made a shiver run down his spine. "you know better than t'be doin that, handsome. move or ima cuff you." he slowly moved his hand away, balling them into tight fists before ony decided it was a good time to add a second finger.

spit traveling from ony's mouth down to connie's light brown hole, giving him more lubricant to move his fingers deeper. he dug into connie slowly, giving his boyfriend the time he needs to adjust. "how it feel pretty boy?" connies eyes rolled to the back of his skull, back arching as he moaned at the stretch. "hmm? talk t'me baby...can i fuck you now?" ony was always soft with connie when it came to prepping him. knowing that it is not an easy process and it could be painful if not done correctly. "y-yea daddy go head."

he smiled at the name, knowing that it was only used when his boyfriend was feeling especially vulnerable. "good boy" ony got up to grab a bottle of lube before rubbing it all over his dick, applying some to connies tight hole as well for safe measures. he watched his face closely as he sunk into him inch by inch. light brown hands gripping onto his shoulders as connie moaned from the stretch. "shhittt...fuck fuck fuck." ony started at a slow pace, stroking him deeply while leaving small kisses on the tears that fell from his eyes.

"i know bae. i hear you, but you been bad, remember?" "w-wait da lemme...auughh shi-i-ittt." his pace quickened and before connie knew it he was being pounded into the mattress. all eight inches of ony's dick being shoved in and out of his tight hole. he wrapped his hand around connies neck, other hand wrapping around his dick before jerking him quickly as he fed him hard strokes. "when i tell you t'do sum...move your fuckin hand...you gon listen. aint that right handsome?" connies wrists were now trapped by ony's big hand, arms bound over his head as he continued to take the vigorous strokes from his boyfriend.

"y-YES...i’ll listen daddy furreal." connie’s hips bucked into ony’s hand as he squeezed his dick tighter, continuing to stroke his aching red tip. connie was on the brink of his orgasm, lip tucked behind his teeth as he threw his head back in the sheets. ony felt him twitching in his hand, light sheen of sweat making his light brown chest glisten. as soon as he felt connie getting too close he let him go, pulling out as he whined for him not to stop. "wait m'right ther-" "ion care connie. turn over and put your ass up." he quickly turned around, laying his palms flat on the sheets without complaint in hopes that he'd be rewarded with at least one orgasm.

ony wasted no time thrusting back into him fully, dark brown hand shoving his inked back down as connies arms bent next to his head. "y'know how i like it baby. keep that ass in the air for me while daddy makes you feel good." his brutal pounding made tears fall from connies pretty brown eyes, wetting the sheets directly below his face along with his spit. ony kept his hand on the back of connie's pretty inked neck, pushing his face deeper into to cushion as he spoke lowly from behind him. "ion like punishing you handsome. supposed t'be my good boy so ion have t'be mean."

connies words were muffled before ony pulled him up by his neck, wrapping his hand around the front of his throat as he pulled his lover back towards his chest. "m-m'sorry daddy. ima listen t'you furreal..shit..ima d-do whatever you say" a smirk crept onto his lips at his boyfriends words, other hand sliding to the front of his body and caressing his stomach before jerking his pretty dick quickly. "anything i want?" connie nodded his head instantly as he moaned from the added pleasure. ony's pace quickened, hips slamming so hard that the loud, wet slaps could be heard from all over the house.

ony felt his orgasm approaching so he slowed his thrusts. idea popping up in his head to really teach connie his lesson. "stroke yourself pretty boy. want you t'do it real slow until daddy says you can speed up, understand." he was giving him another chance at following orders and connie hated it. but instead of defying him and getting fucked up even more, he slide ony's hand off his dick before replacing it. stroking himself slowly as his boyfriend matched his pace inside of him.

long dick kissing the deepest parts of him as hot wet tears flowed down his cheeks. "uhh huh. nice and slow" ony watched connie over his shoulder as he stroked himself at a steady pace. singing praises to connie as he obeyed the command he struggled to comply with last time. "such a good boy f'me. just a little longer and ill let you cum baby." his dark brown hand grabbed the bottom of connies face, turning him towards him before giving him a sloppy kiss. spit dribbling down the sides of both of their mouths, leaving connie breathless as he continued his slow pace with his hand. "open up handsome"

pink lips instantly parting as ony's spit slid from his tongue to connie's. "and swallow allat shit." on instinct the spit disappeared down his throat before he opened his mouth to show him that it was truly gone. "mhm good boy. you wanna cum?" moans and begs flew from connies mouth in an instant, the need for release clouding his brain as he fucked himself back on ony's dick slowly. "p-please" ony's hand replaced connies smaller one. quickly stroking him as began snapping his hips into his ass with vigor.

"gon head pretty boy. make a mess f'me" light brown eyes rolled to the back of his skull as connie's hot ropes of cum shot all over the sheets. “ooouuu fuckkk.” the last of it eventually slidding down his shaft and all over ony's hand before he felt his lover pull out of him. jerking himself as he came all over his back. "next time i tell you to do sum you better listen. or youll be right back here, understand me?"

"o-okay pa i hear you."

ony ran connie a hot bath. changing the sheets and making him some tea before having his lover come out and get dressed. "drink this and rest for the night" night? a gasp escaped from connies lips as he noticed that it was already dark outside. "y'hear me?" ony's voice snapped him out of his thoughts before he replied. "huh? yea ill rest pa."

~the next morning~

connie woke up noticing ony wasn't in bed with him. he made his way downstairs to be met with a beautiful sight before him. shirtless chest on full display as his lover drank orange juice straight from the bottle. "man that is so trifling" connie chuckled as his boyfriend jumped in surprise. moving the bottle from his lips before giving him a smirk. "i be spitting in your mouth no problem and you worried about my mouth being on the bottle?"

a blush crept on connies face, shifting his gaze in embarrassment. "that's different" "yea its worse." ony cut him off before walking past him to reclaim his seat in the living room. "suge on her way home right now to grab some shit. she gon stay over there for another night." connie nodded his head as he slowly sat down next to his boyfriend, wincing as he felt the cushion touch his ass. "fuck" ony chuckled before scooting over closer to his pouting boyfriend. "come" he patted his lap for connie to lay his head over.

connie quickly took the invitation, lying his head on his lover's lap and putting his feet on the couch to ease the pressure on his sore lower half. "good morninggggg!!" you squealed as you busted through the door, giving connie a quizzical look before smirking to yourself. "oh he fucked your shit upppp" you giggled as connie rolled his eyes at your teasing. "yea and you next if you don't shut that shit up. leave my big baby alone" you smiled lovingly at the two of them, choosing not to piss ony off before you end up like your other boyfriend. ass hurting and body worn the hell out. you grabbed what you needed before heading out the door. "love y'all! ill be home tomorrowww!!!" with that you closed the door, leaving the two of them alone again.

ony turned on the tv, putting on connie's favorite show as he played with his short hair. "if it still hurts later i can kiss it better for you pretty boy. y'know im real good wit my tongue" connies eyes widened at his boyfriends lewd words, making his stomach tingle at the thought. ony didn't even look away from the tv as he shamelessly spoke to him. he was so nasty. "maybe" connie mumbled, his lover finally looked down at him, dark brown eyes meeting his lighter ones befofe giving him a smile. "i love you" "love you more pa"

#onyankopon x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #aot x black reader #aot #onyankopon x black!reader #aot smut #aot connie #connie springer #aot connie x black reader #aot connie x black!reader #aot onyankopon x connie #onyankopon x connie #aot connie x onyankopon #commit x onyankopon

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Douma, Akaza and Kokushibo.

General warnings for the next chapters: nsfw (minors do not interact), modern au, age gap, dom!muzan, sub!reader, sugar daddy dynamics, choking, semi-public sex, car sex, spanking, vaginal sex, virgin reader, business agreement, murder, death, torture, trauma.

Warning for this part: none! Just Muzan sending Douma and Kokushibo to stalk you.

Plot: Kibutsuji Muzan, the ambitious, high-flying politician the world needed, knew that in order to resemble the incarnation of the perfect man, ready to lead the Country, he would have needed a beautiful, young girl by his side. He did not care if it was real love, or just a façade. All he cared about was to make a certain impression. Meeting you was literally a manna from heaven. You signed the agreement, he treated you like a goddess. This was the beginning of a twisted fairytale, but you knew better than falling for him and, surely, he was not going to lose his mind for you. Or so you thought.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE AGREEMENT.

Muzan stared at the pictures scattered on his desk. He had made up his mind. You were truly a delicacy, indeed. It appeared like Douma had done a pretty decent job in searching the city for a woman whose appearence whetted Muzan’s appetites.

You were young, cheerful, working at a local restaurant to pay for your studies: the perfect candidate for being the future First Lady.

He knew everything about you. Your address, your friends’s names, your zodiac sign, your favorite ice-cream flavor and even your ex’s identity. Tracking you down and spying on you was easy. How could you, a sweet, lovely girl, imagine that the soon to be President had his plum red eyes on you? Your naivety intrigued him. He could play you like a doll, spoil you like a child and treat you like a princess. He did not care if your heart was going to belong to someone else. All you had to do was smiling for the pictures, being his future wife, show the world you were head over heels for him and, naturally, tell the medias you were his property.

He was confident about the outcome of your first, fateful encounter. He was a good-looking man, persuasive and pretty intimidating even. You would have probably fallen for his charm and forgotten about the terms of the contract anyway.

A knock on the door was the signal that you had arrived. Sending Douma to pick you up would have probably been detrimental to the mission and he knew better than letting you slip from his fingers. Kokushibo, on the other hand, was the best choice he could have ever made. Prefessional, authoritative and precise, he had apparently fulfilled his mission.

“Come in” Muzan said, flicking his gaze up to the door.

A second later, the door creaked open to reveal Kokushibo. He took a step forward, taking his sunglasses off and bowing his head to his boss as a sign of respect “She’s waiting for you in the dining room” he announced flatly, causing a smirk to cross Muzan’s face.

What an obedient girl you were. He was almost taken aback by the way you had decided to follow a stranger in a Maserati and trust what he had said. Either you were smart, or far too easy to play with.

“Thanks, Kokushibo. – Muzan stated, straightening his tie and grabbing the contract from the messy desk behind him – You are dismissed” he added shortly, walking past the tall dark-haired man and making his way to you, the new branded attraction of his house.

You were sitting on a black-leather chair, the goblet of red wine, a Chianti, that the dapper bodyguard had poured for you was settled on the crystal table, inviting you to take a sip. You resisted the tempation, it would have probably offended Mr. Kibutsuji, if you had not waited for him.

Yes, you knew who was requiring your presence. You had a really good photographic memory and you had recognized the shiny car of the politician’s bodyguards. You had watched it on the tv’s reports, you had seen it parked nearby your house for the past six months. He had probably sent his dogs to stalk you.

What truly puzzled you was why he wanted to see you. Kokushibo did not answer your questions. You had not told him you knew who he was working for, or that you had figured out who was asking for you. You had just followed him to the car without making a scene. He was a kind man, after all, just a bit frosty.

To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was the deep, velvet voice that kept you company during your lunch breaks, when you turned the tv on in a pathetic attempt to catch up with the daily news.

“Y/N L/N, welcome to my residence” Muzan said, a small smile curling his lips.

He was handsome, tall, elegant, standoffish and filthy rich. You were not used to interact with people coming from the upper class, let alone trying not to embarrass yourself in the presence of the man of the hour, the man that people loved and loathed at the same time.

“Good evening, Mr. Kibutsuji. – you said, standing up quickly from your seat and walking up to him – How may I help our soon to be President?” you quizzically asked him, eyes downcast not to falter under his piercing gaze.

You had stopped three, or four strides away from him not to invade his personal space, but your breath hitched in your throat when he met you midway. The alluring perfume he was wearing intoxicated you and, when he gently grabbed your hand, you were forced to shift your attention on him again. You were paralyzed, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were focused on him and him alone. He brought your hand to his lips, letting them brush over the back of your hand in a drammatically slow and intimate demeanor.

Shivers ran down your spine and you released a breath you did not know you were still holding, when he flashed you a sly grin, the same he directed to the camera, when he made his glorious appearences on the most popular talk-shows of the Country.

“Please, darling, call me Muzan. – he cooed, gesturing for you to take a seat and hesitantly letting go of your hand – I’m so glad you’ve accepted my anonymous invitation. You’re brave” he commented, walking over to the table and filling his own goblet of wine.

You softly smiled and made your way to your seat “Just observant. I thought I had recognized the car and your bodyguard” you admitted, reaching your hand out to grab your own glass.

The dark-haired man hummed, as he swirled the reddish drink into the cup “I should have known you were smart, a quality I absolutely adore finding in a woman. – he purred, sliding some papers towards you on the polished surface of the table – To answer your question, the reason why you are here lays within the lines of this contract”.

A contract?

You forrowed your brows, your eyes settling on the neat pile of papers under your nose. Did he want to hire you for something? You thought he already had a secretary and you clearly were not suited to be his bodyguard. What did Kibutsuji Muzan want from you, a mere student, then?

“I’ve personally drew up the contract. We can discuss some terms, if you are not comfortable with them” he explained, taking a sip of his drink and walking towards the stained glass windows of the large dining room. The landscape was breathtaking. The city lights, the skyscrapers dominating the industrialized area of the city and the yellowish lights of the cars rushing down the avenues were the spectacular view you were beholding.

Reading the whole contract would have probably taken you hours. There was no way in Hell you would have signed it without pondering each and every clause, but you gave it a quick reading and some words were now permeating your brain.

‘Wife, payment, tv, affectio maritalis, sexual performances, moving, money’.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your shaking fingers fidgeting with the charm of your necklace, a small, silver crescent moon, as you blurted out your question “What do you exactly want me to do?”.

Muzan did not turn to face you, he kept his intense gaze trailed on the city line instead “Be my wife” he simply said, earning a gasp from you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you breathed out.

“Adore me in public, love whoever you want privetely. Just a yes and I will shower you in money, gifts, respect and a life you could only dream of for the rest of your life… Are you in, my sweet Y/N?” he taunted you, turning towards you with the most dazzling and wicked smile you had ever seen in your whole existence.

You did not know what crossed your mind in that very instant and the following moments were fuzzy and fragmented, but all you knew on your way back to your small flat was that you had agreed and, when Kokushibo told you that he would have come to pick you up in the weekend, you were ready to start this new life as Kibutsuji’s ‘babygirl’ , as he had called you before you left.

You slumped onto your bed, droopy eyes and tipsy, unaware that a pair of golden and rainbow-colored eyes were watching you slipping into a well-deserved slumber.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi, there!

It’s my first post on this platform and I still need to understand a few basic things about Tumblr. Hopefully, I’ll be able to give you weekly updates, but I make no promises. This is going to be a small fan fiction and my main project for a little while. However, don’t worry, I’ll try to update some other one-shots & scenarios about other characters. Likes, comments and reposts are really appreciated!

X O X O

#muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #demon slayer #muzan smut #douma #kny au #kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo #michikatsu tsugikuni #akaza #modern au #smut #demon slayer smut #douma x reader #akaza x reader #kokushibo x reader

[donutz]

Yandere Smiling Critters x male child reader[pt. 2]

Requests from Tumblr and Wattpad—!, but not really

(Minus the fact I didn't include you being turned)

—☆You are a human in this

Sadly, you couldn’t stay here forever.

You are home now. Adopted. You did spend your time at Playcare for a couple of years though, everybody knew you, everybody in Playcare that is. The critters and kids knew you, the staff knew you, Miss Delight knew you.

So you had a mark on the place when it was time for you to leave. To get your own house. You were happy to get a home, but sad you had to leave your friends behind.

Maybe you could revisit this place again. Come back. But you couldn’t.

Something happened.

8/8/1995

You don’t know what happened that day, but you guess it was something pretty bad. It caused the whole company to shut down. You no longer saw any commercials of the toys.

Rumors were spread around, maybe somebody died, maybe a toy hurt somebody, maybe.. Maybe an experiment happened.

Anyways. There was a letter. A letter in the mail, something that related to your old home. Find the flower?

.

.

.

Sure. Why not, you were seventeen, you can handle yourself.

Which is something you shouldn’t have ever thought, after what you’ve been through.

It’s been scary. You haven’t died yet, but death has wanted to shake your hand a few times.

You almost bumped your head on a metal pipe while passing through a dark hallway, nearly broke your leg because you wanted to jump off a platform, wanting things to go by faster.

You’ve been chased through vents, and ended up at a dead end. You didn’t know what to do. You almost got shredded. But, were spared.

“.. Huggy?” He stared at you, maybe he recognizes you, even after all these years.

He didn’t kill you. He let you down on the second level of the metal stairways with his arm, and went back to where he originally was.

Then you were solving puzzles, with a particular doll following after you.

But the doll got snatched up, by a spider. Mommy Long Legs. She did remember you, you were the one who wasn’t so good at the games..(for the sake of your life in this story)

But she thought you left her to die, so she still forced you to play the three games. The first game has Bunzo! He was hesitant to kill you, you were the kindest kid to him when you lived here.

And for the first time, you actually beat the game! He was so proud of you! He wasn’t proud of his unfortunate fate in the future, but at least he didn’t need to kill you.

Then the small Huggies. They also remembered you, so they were sparing you. You also beat that game! They were happy, letting out tiny purrs at your success.

Then Pj— Wait. Since when were you so good at these games? The last I checked, you failed every single one of them! Fine. I’ll just sabotage the game for you, to make sure you never leave.

You could see Pj coming out of his pug-a-pillar hole, and you were sweating a little. Hopefully he remembered you too.

He did, once he saw you he stopped in his crawling tracks, taking a pause. He missed your younger adorable face when he gave you a small bump on your back, signifying that the ‘game’ was over.

But he unpaused at the start of the music playing.

You escaped. Out of there. That’s fine. I could just chase you myself

Three chases. You got chased THREE times. How desperate was she to kill you?!

You were putting the blue hand on the scanner, when you heard Mommy’s quick steps towards you.

You looked behind you— Eyes widening from her abrupt appearance. For the fourth time.

The door opened! And.. Mommy got killed, by you, by your hands.

A hand crept out from the thin crevice of a metal door. It took Mommy’s left over body, to wherever. You didn’t know what it was. Where it took her. But thanked god(or not, depends on your thoughts) at the fact that you weren’t Mommy at this moment.

Now you are somewhere. The train crashed, and you could feel the back of your shirt being picked up. You were sliding down a pipe, into somewhere.

You don’t know where it was, but you needed to get out, fast.

Doing some parkour, you looked around, and saw a long tail(plus paws) crawling up inside a vent.

“... Catnap?”

You went through some doors, and ended up seeing where the crashed train was. Going somewhere, you could see the recognizable entrance you went to at age 5. The way to Playcare.

You could hear the sounds of steps. Hurrying up you went inside the much smaller train compared to the one you were originally in.

“My name is Elliot Ludwig.”

Hm. Those words you could remember.

“When you look around at the world today,” You repeated after him.

“what one thing do you think it needs more of?”

“Playcare!”

Even at seventeen years, you were still mesmerized by what was shown.

You looked down, and could see 3— no. Five creatures walking or crawling around, resembling the Smiling Critters.

“Oh.”

Some of the critters could hear Elliot’s voice continue about Playcare, eyeing the moving train.

They saw your shadowed figure. Not knowing who you were. But a light is shown on your face.

Bubba, Dogday, Kickin, Hoppy, and Bobby saw your face. You’re back?

No. They must be seeing things. You were gone. Away from them.

But Dogday could recognize those eyes. Your skin, your curiosity, your hair(if your hair changed colors, or texture after growing up, then.. Yea, he still remembered you).

“Angel?” (Even if you didn’t really save him, he’s going to call you Angel. Because I needed a nickname for you. Y’know, because I can’t list every single name of the people who’re reading this?)

The other critters heard his whisper. … Maybe it was you.

The train stopped. But you were kind of scared, were they like Huggy or Mommy? Were they going to chase you down?

“Ah shit.”

‘Language.’ Dogday thought, dogs have good hearing y’know!

You were trying to find a way for two possible outcomes of being down here.

A) Try to make the train go back if the critters try to kill you

Or

B) Somehow reminisce in meeting your old friends

B sounded a lot more better than A.

And.. B did happen!

The 5 critters went over to the train, while you were standing there. Waiting for whatever will happen to you.

Dogday crawled over to you, it was you! Your scent!

He gave you the biggest hug while his tail wagged(really fast, it’s kind of crazy).

He was still fluffy even after these 10 years.

“Angel I missed you so much—!”

You were trying to hug him back, but a little too scared because of the critters staring into your soul.

Dogday noticed their silence and spoke up—

“Guys! This is Angel!! You don’t recognize him??”

Silence.

“THE ONE WHO WAS HIDING BEHIND PICKY..??”

“OHH”

“YOU’RE BACK?!?”

“I was thinking that it was him but I wasn’t sure…”

“ANGEL!?!?!?”

You were escorted out of the train, and were greeted by a bunch of animals pawing at you.

You couldn’t get a word in!

Picky, Crafty and Catnap came over, hearing all of the excited animal noises.

Now you were crowded by a bunch of animals. You were so tiny compared to them, so they had to be gentle.

So much noises were going on that even the smaller critters came over to see the commotion.

You were back home!

Now you can’t leave.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #male reader #m reader #dogday #dogday x reader #catnap #catnap x reader #bobby bearhug #bobby bearhug x reader #craftycorn #craftycorn x reader #kickin chicken #kickin chicken x reader #hoppy hopscotch #hoppy hopscotch x reader #picky piggy #picky piggy x reader #bubba bubbaphant #bubba bubbaphant x reader #yandere smiling critters x male child reader

[gutsby]

Mr. Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

Warnings: NSFW. Dad's friend Daryl! Drastic age gap!! Daryl's a dirty old pervert in this one :-) Voyeurism. Masturbation. Descriptions of oral sex (m!receiving). Dirty talk. Degradation. Slight misogyny. Daryl may or may not masturbate out a window at some point.

You had an old pair of Daisy Dukes and a dream.

Faded, frayed, and two times too small for your frame, the shorts hiked an inch up your ass every step you took across the room. Made it damn near pointless bending over before the man in front of you—he could see every inch of your butt regardless—but you did it all the same.

This was Mr. Dixon, after all.

Cool blue orbs illumined by candlelight took the sight of you in and flitted away just as fast. His hands busied themselves with the gun he was taking apart, while you reached for the bullet that had just rolled onto the floor.

“Here you go, Mr. Dixon.”

Your voice had a charming lilt as you held the round out to him.

“Over there,” Daryl grumbled, jerking his head toward the end of the table, “An’ what’d I say ‘bout callin’ me tha’?”

“I feel weird calling daddy’s friends by their first names.”

You shrugged and chucked the tiny piece of lead into the pile of ammunition like Daryl had told you to. Then you sat down beside it, crossing your arms.

He could be so cruel sometimes. Just fooling with his pistol and barking orders like a drill sergeant. Never looking at you longer than a second, and if he did, just shooting you a glare or wounding you with a scowl.

He’d been the toughest nut to crack out of all your father’s friends. No matter how straight-laced and upstanding the men around Mr. Grimes had made themselves out to be, you’d always found the fault line—the weak spot that got you access to the filthiest parts of each one. You’d teased and you’d flirted, earned a couple groping touches and open-mouthed caresses from the likes of the late Mr. Walsh and many others. But never Mr. Dixon.

Even now, sitting across from him in your skimpy Wrangler cut offs, wedges, and a skintight, starch white tank top stretched so tight over your tits the fabric was practically see-through, it was like you were invisible to him. You kicked your feet out in front of you as they dangled from the table and actually felt yourself pout at the feeling of frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I wanna help.” Sounding pitiful.

“No use,” Daryl said as he studied the barrel of the gun with an inscrutable expression, “Already told yer dad, ain’ no use for little girls on the range.”

Your nostrils flared as you started back on your feet.

“I am plenty useful, Mr. Dixon. And I— I’m not the little girl you think I am,” you fired back, sounding more miserable and juvenile with every word you spoke.

At the last, Daryl looked you up and down. It was hardly more than a passing glance, but deliberate enough to be expressive. Emotive.

He looked repulsed by you.

And, rather than dignify you with a response, he simply discarded his firearm on the table and left the room. You trailed behind him into the kitchen and watched him swing the refrigerator door wide on its hinges. Blue eyes surveying the shelves for a can of PBR, most likely.

“I can do anything you need me to,” you rejoined in a huff, desperate to be heard, “I’m twice the shot my old man ever was at my age, I can track if I need to— hell, I’m always doin’ stuff, Mr. Dixon. Things.”

You weren’t sure what rattling off your talents to a man who clearly had no interest in hearing them would accomplish, but you tried it anyway. You sounded like your father. When both of Mr. Dixon’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise and he plopped down on a bar stool opposite you, you wanted to melt right into the floor.

“Doin’ stuff, huh? Thangs?” he mocked your twang.

You gripped the door frame so tight your knuckles turned white. Daryl took a couple swigs of beer and stared you down through every swallow. He brought the can back to the counter, near-empty now, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I got a couple thangs for ya ta do,” he started, grinning, “Why don’t ya put those pretty hands ta work, throw a little apron on, and just...bake me a fuckin’ cake?”

“Funny,” you spat. You felt a surge of bile rise in your throat at the sight of his smug expression.

“Wash my car?”

“Fuck you.”

Daryl’s amusement only grew as the forbidden F-bomb flew from your lips—a word he knew Rick would never tolerate if you’d been in his presence. Presently, his eyes raked over your slight, shaking form at the threshold of the room and figured himself pretty lucky to have provoked such a strong reaction from you. He polished off the last of his drink in a single gulp.

“No need ta get all foul-mouthed, Ms. Grimes, I only—”

“Fuck. You.” Your reply came slower and a touch more measured than he’d expected. Even punctuated with a hint of a smile, making sure to stretch that Southern drawl when you added, “Dar-yl.”

It was the first time you’d ever used his first name.

You weren’t sure you liked it.

Daryl, on the other hand, felt quite certain the sound of his name suited your mouth just fine. A subsequent stir in his jeans wiped the smirk clean off his face, and he began to shift in his seat.

Before he could speak, you were already turning on your heels to leave. Formalities escaped quicker than your anger, and your fingers seemed to move of their own accord to flip Daryl off over your shoulder as you strode out the door, far out of his sight.

Meanwhile, and much to his chagrin, Mr. Dixon was already growing ill with the sounds of your parting wishes bouncing loud off the walls of his skull. Before the front door had even closed, his fingers, too, seemed to move involuntarily and do a thing they probably shouldn’t have done: touch the mound in his jeans.

He rubbed his clothed erection and groaned.

You were such a fucking brat.

Daryl had always thought with a father as eagle-eyed and attentive as Rick, you’d never reach this level of naughty, haughty, and straight up cunt-like, but here you were. Doing Lori proud the way you’d gotten another one of Rick’s best friends wrapped around your little finger.

You were good like that, and still too dense to understand a fraction of the effect you had on him while you did it. The way you’d been looking at him earlier, Daryl was sure you’d convinced yourself he hated you.

If you could only see him now, spitting in one hand and unzipping his fly with the other, freeing his cock, and finally, finally getting his fingers wrapped fast around his shaft with the sole thought of you on his mind as he did. If you could watch him shudder, close his eyes, draw a deep, jagged breath through his nose to scour the air for the faintest trace of your scent lingering there—maybe you’d get it.

Daryl slid his hand down his cock and exhaled a shaky breath. You would simply never “get it,” because he’d already promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen.

As his thumb grazed the head of his red-hot, leaking cock and imagined it was your tongue doing all the work, he had to remind himself this was nothing but a fantasy for him. There was just no way in hell he’d sink to Shane’s level and actually lay his hands on you, no—he was better than that.

He was a man of principle, furiously jerking his cock in his kitchen with the thought of his best friend’s daughter on his mind. He just couldn’t touch you.

Damn if those tits didn’t sit nice under that top, no bra to hold ‘em in. And those shorts…

Daryl felt his head drop back as a wave of pleasure coursed up his spine. In his mind, you were sucking him now, hollowing those soft, sweet cheeks around his member and bobbing your head up and down, again and again, eyes never leaving his. Maybe you’d know to cup his balls, use your tongue to draw a couple lazy shapes down his cock. Any way you wanted it done was exactly how Mr. Dixon needed it, he’d decided.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and fucked his hand like a man half his age.

Someone like you.

Scarcely nineteen and so oversexed they might burst.

The difference was Daryl would explode any second now; he had only to hunch over, pump himself a few more times, and finally shoot his load, pretending it was spraying your insides and not the floor of his kitchen.

He’d intended to do just that, clenching his jaw at the filthiest thoughts of you yet, when suddenly, a sound shook the house.

Daryl dropped his cock and looked right out the window.

Down below, outside, you’d laid heavy on your car horn. Let the noise blare a couple seconds before Daryl came bounding over to the window.

When he did, the man thought his legs might buckle.

You were standing beside his truck in the driveway, sponge in hand, soaked head-to-toe in water and soap and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen you. The fabric above your tits was translucent now, clinging like a second skin and affording his lustful gaze every inch of your torso. Your free hand was waving up at him.

Daryl inched the window open with trembling hands.

“Mr. Dixon, this truck is filthy!” you shouted from down below.

Swallowing and blinking was all he knew how to do, it seemed. Finally, Daryl managed, deadpan:

“I know.”

You placed your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes up at him.

“Have you always been such a dirty old man?”

Fuck. It was like you knew what he’d been doing, crouched over in the privacy of his home while he drooled and dreamed of fucking you stupid. He watched you cross the front of the car.

And lean down to start rubbing your sponge across the hood.

Daryl sincerely feared you might hear his loud groan the second it rose to his throat. He gritted his teeth, tried to fight the sound, but came up short with nothing to show for his efforts but a whimper slipping past his lips.

You started swirling your sponge in circles, tits shaking with every movement you made.

“Too bad little girls ain’t good for nothin’,” you sighed.

When you leaned flat across the metal surface below you, Daryl pictured himself standing behind you, taking his dick and shoving it deep between your folds. Stretching you out and making you scream into the space in front of you.

Slowly, discreetly, Daryl’s hand drifted back to his cock.

“Yeah. Too bad,” he mumbled as you bent over to soak your sponge once more. When you straightened up, you made sure to squeeze the thing over your chest so the water would douse your front. Daryl took the window frame in one hand and his cock in the other, leaning out just slightly to ask, “This the ‘stuff’ ye’s talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Thangs, really,” you answered dryly.

The two of you exchanged a brief smile, and Daryl’s hand started stroking his length.

Lucky for him, and unlucky for you, the size of the window wasn’t primed to make you privy to the sight of him pleasuring himself. At most, you saw a forearm moving gently back and forth. You bit your lower lip and kept your sponge moving in loops.

“Well these ‘thangs’ are gonna get ya in a whole heap of trouble with yer daddy if ya keep this up, girl,” Daryl warned, nodding toward your house with a wary look.

“It’s empty, Mr. Dixon. Whole place is mine for the weekend,” you replied with a sly intonation.

Finally, you stopped long enough to get a hand back down to your shorts. Facing Daryl still, you popped a button on your denim cut-offs and looked up at him with a glossy, innocent stare. You pretended to feel for something that wasn’t there, snagged the band of your light pink thong, and lifted it up to Daryl’s hungry gaze. You saw his bicep visibly strain as he jerked his cock even faster.

Back inside, Daryl was panting, groaning, reeling at the thought of you all alone in your house next door, splayed out across your bed in a baby pink panty set. He soaked in the sight of you and curled his toes into the floor as a new jolt of pleasure broke out through his body.

He was closer than he’d ever been. He rested his head against the window and watched you run your hands over your body, down your front, in your shorts. He imagined your fingers grazing your cunt and how wet you must’ve been then, imagining him right back and fucking him steady with your eyes.

For a moment, your eyelids fluttered, and a blissful look crossed your features. Daryl rutted his hips at the thought of you finding your clit in front of him—desperately wanting to be the source of that pleasure himself—and pumped himself even faster.

“Darlin’, I…I need ya. In such a bad fuckin’ way.” He couldn’t keep the tender term of endearment from dancing on his tongue. The sight of you alone had his brain on the fritz.

You slipped your hand out of your shorts and brought a couple honeyed fingertips to the edge of your lips.

“How bad, Mr. Dixon?” you asked, eyeing him intently.

Daryl whined and felt his insides churn with the threat of release. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.

“So— so bad. Need to fuck ya so bad.”

That satisfied your affirmation-hungry itch well enough. You pushed two digits between your lips and started to suck.

From that point on, you didn’t need to see him or hear him or be there waiting patiently on your knees to get a mouthful of his cum—you knew it was coming. Daryl’s face contorted with a blissful, fucked-out expression, and suddenly he was pumping that space below the window full of his load, likely spraying the whole damn thing on the wall.

You stood back and admired your work. Daryl had all but collapsed with both hands planted on the windowsill, wet, brown locks hanging low in his face as the aftershocks of his arousal washed over him.

He was panting and barely able to meet your gaze. You couldn’t quite read the expression.

At any rate, you knew your job here was done.

With a hand waving sweetly back up at him once more, you eyed the mess of a man—your father’s best friend—and started to reach for your bucket and sponge. You buttoned your shorts back up and took a step from his truck. When it seemed Daryl was just then starting to open his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and called out, cheerfully,

“See ya around, Mr. Dixon!”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut

[meowhara]

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : abuse, mistreatment, usage of bad languages, death, kidnapping

synopsis : In a world where hybrids are becoming a common thing. Scientists sells their experiments for a very high price in auctions, making it possible for anyone with such kind of money to own a hybrid or even more

author's note : OMG! this will be my very first fanfic ever. I hope y'all enjoy this little fanfic I made in such a very short time. I'm so so sorry if there's anything wrong with my grammars or maybe you got confused by how I write things in general. English isn't my first language :)

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Experimenting with human beings are normal by now all around the world, making hybrids one of the most expensive and valuable assets. They're usually sold with a very high price in auctions, anyone who's able to lay a hand on those hybrids must be some very crazy rich and lucky people.

You're those kind of fine breed, sold for an unbelievably high price. But sadly luck wasn't on your side due to how irresponsible your new owner is. He never took care of you like how people should took care of hybrids. He abandoned you, feeding you poorly, using you only for your small and fragile body. Treating you like an animal and make you do his daily chores such as cooking, cleaning, and even doing his laundry. But you never complain, there's nothing you can do and nowhere to escape.

You don't even know how the hell he was able to purchase you from the auction since he doesn't even look like a wealthy man at all. Who's job is only to sell and purchase drugs from here and there then spend shit ton of money for women and other useless things. He woke up late at the day just to hurt you then leave and came back late at night. Sometimes he didn't even bother to come back home, leaving you hungry and lonely inside his small and packed house in the middle of nowhere.

For the past moths he has been stealing drugs from Mafia!Miguel. Miguel tried to track him down for months without any avail and lost him every single time. After learning your owner's pattern for months, he's finally able to caught him off guard.

But the bastard ran back home and hide just before Miguel catch him. Your owner ran back home and locked the doors, telling you to shut the fuck up if anyone come over to look for him and to not tell his whereabouts.

Miguel is one step ahead this time and he's able to track your owner's house. He then banged on the door which made you jumped in surprise. "Open the damn door, you bastard! I know you're inside." He shouted as he kept banging on the door with his men following and standing by behind him, guns in their hands.

Innocently, you walk over the door and open the door slightly ajar and peeked outside just to met his eyes. Miguel was shocked when his eyes met with your big vulnerable eyes and fluffy bunny ears, looking almost as if you're pleading with a small pout on your face. "Yes?" You said shyly with shaky voice. Miguel looks back at his men in confusion then look back at you. "Hello, little one. Is there anyone inside?" He asked, trying to be less intimidating and as friendly as possible in order not to scare you. You hesitated to answer but you shook your head anyway, since it's seems like the only safe answer to give. He examines your beautiful and small figure from head to toe just to find bruises everywhere then to your dirty clothes that you're wearing. You look up at him with tired eyes and flat expression, making you look like a broken doll.

Miguel is not buying your obvious lie. "Are you sure? You look... Tired. Are you okay?" He asked again. You just nod and rush to close the door but Miguel stopped you from doing so. He grabbed on the door and push it back open, making you stumbling back from the force. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. But I need to take a look inside, okay?" He gave signals to his men to search the house for your owner.

He didn't expect you to panic and starts shouting at him "No! Please! Master will get mad." You said as your eyes starts to well in tears, "He'll hit me and lock me up in the basement again..." You said while sobbing and pulling on his sleeve. Miguel can feel his heart breaking into pieces from how adorably you cried in front of him. As he wanted to hug you and calm you down, his men came back and drags your owner with them. He got a black eye on his right eye due to a hard blow given by Miguel's men right on his face when he tried to run away. They throw him on the floor to force him to get on his knees in front of Miguel.

When your eyes met his you ran towards your master in worry. "Master! Are you okay?" You got on your knees to check on him, even if he's a very cruel and irresponsible master you can't help but feel worried of him getting hurt. But instead of getting any answer back from him, he gave you a very hard and strong punch on the face. You stumbled back in shock and whimpers in pain as you cover your face with your palms from the fear and pain. "You useless bitch! I told you not to let them in!" As he's about to hit you again, Miguel stepped forward to protect you and kick that bastard's stomach with full force in anger. He still couldn't believe that a little angle like you would care so much about a devil like him.

He groans in pain from Miguel's kick and Miguel turned to look at you as you bleed from your nose and cry on the floor. Your owner look up at Miguel then at you "Oh I see what this is all about now. You like her don't you? Fine then, take her away as a compensation. She is a very fine and expensive hybrid." He said with a low chuckle as he gave you a dirty look. "Use her as a cock sleeve or just do anything you like at her, let all of your anger out at her as if she's a punching bag. You won't ever hear a peep out of her mouth, she's well trained for that." Miguel can feel himself boiling in anger but his eyes won't leave your figure, no matter how hard he tried. The idea of a pretty thing like you used and abused by someone like him are just too much for him to even imagine.

Yes, he is indeed a cruel mafia leader. He killed and will kill anyone who got in his way without any remorse or hesitation and punish those who got on his nerves. But seeing how a pure little thing like you getting such a horrible treatment without you deserving any of it, made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He got too deep into his thought as he pull a gun out from his pocket without realizing and thinking it through then shot your owner right at his face as you watch the scene in front of you in horror.

The bastard died instantly, his body made a loud thud noise when it hit the floor and blood starts to stain the carpet underneath. Your eyes widened as tears streams down your cheek. Miguel then turned and walks towards you slowly but you stood up and ran away as fast as you can towards your master's bedroom and lock yourself while crying. His men look at Miguel, waiting for his next order. "I'll talk to her." He said with a loud sigh.

He starts knocking at the door, "Little one, please open the door. I won't hurt you I promise." You starts to panic "No go away! Leave me alone! You just killed my master!" You shouted back. Deep down you know that you should be glad that Miguel had killed your master but that makes you feel powerless, knowing that Miguel is capable of hurting anyone let alone killing them.

"I have to okay? He got on my nerves and worse, he hurt you." He spoke again from the other side of the door. "You know nothing about me!" Tears starts to fall even faster from your eyes as the image of your master's dead body kept playing in your head. "Just open this door so I don't need to force it open myself." He said, starting to get frustrated by your behavior.

You ignores him and sat down in the corner of the room, hoping that he'll just go away and leave you alone. He kept knocking at the door but you refused to open it for him. "Fine you won't open this door? I'll have to force it open then." He said before he starts banging harder and harder on the door, cracking it with each of his forcefull movements against the door.

You know very well from how massive he looks that he'll break down the door easily if he wants to. You starts glancing around the room to look for something to protect yourself just incase if Miguel is trying to hurt you. You've been in this room a thousand time when your master forced you to sleep with him but you're never allowed to open his closet or drawers even when you're told to clean his room for him.

Opening the nearest drawer, you starts rummaging to find something sharp to protect yourself. To your surprise you can feel your hand brushing against a hard and cold metal. You never knew your master hid a small gun in his bedroom this whole time but now you're glad he did. Just as you get your hand on the gun the door bursts open and you yelped in surprise. You then points the gun at Miguel "Don't come any closer! Or I'll— I'll shoot you." You said hesitantly.

Miguel look at the gun in your hand with a expressionless face then walks towards you. "I— I said go away!" A step closer from Miguel means a step back from you. But he kept walking closer and ignoring the fact that you have a gun in your hands. Your back hit the wall, making it impossible for you to take another step back from him. He grabbed your hands and points the gun directly at his chest to challenge you. "Go on. Shoot me." He said menacingly. A shiver went down your spine as your hands clenches around the gun and hesitation floods your mind. You never hurt anyone before, how on earth are you going to shoot him?

Your eyes look up at him still with tears on display and your bunny ears tensed then pinned flat back behind you head in fear. Hands trembling badly as you pressed the gun deeper into his chest, not knowing what to do. "That's what I thought." He said before quickly ripped the gun from your hand easily then threw it away to the other side of the room.

You tried to run but he grabbed you wrist and threw you on the floor. "Stop making this harder on yourself." He said before crouching down to meet your eyes. "Please don't hurt me..." You begged while sobbing, hoping that he'll pity you. He just look at your face while caressing your cheek with his massive thumb. Making your face seems so much smaller compared to his hand. "To have such a pretty thing in front of me for free. How lucky of me." He continues to caress your face and admiring your beauty with the feeling of wanting to own you all to himself. Having you safe by his side in his mansion and to have you sleep by his side at night.

But his fantasy must be interrupted by his duty as a mafia leader. "Boss, it's Lyla." One of his men interrupted. "Tell her I'll be there in 10 minutes." He said with so much authority in his voice. "What about her?" His other man looked over at your vulnerable state. Your eyes are focused on Miguel, anticipating his next move. He cussed to himself and took out a syringe from his pocket. "W— what's that for?" You asked nervously. "This? Oh I bring these all the time incase if I need to take a pretty thing like you home." Miguel then cupped you face with one of his free hand and move your face to the side so he could inject your neck easier.

Your hand grabbed his hand, the one that's cupping your cheek. "I don't want this. Please just let me go." He ignores your plea and kissed your cheek softly. "Don't worry little thing, this will only hurt a little okay? Just obey and you'll be just fine." You shook your head but he injected you right away with the syringe. "Good girl." Your body starts to feel numb right away as tears continue to stream down your face. You rest your head against his chest for support. "Shhh that's it, just fall asleep for me like a good girl you are." He pulls you into a hug and starts caressing your hair this time. Your vision starts to blur as darkness starts to invade. Soon you're limp against his chest, breathing softly and peacefully.

He smiled and kissed your forehead before carrying you in his arms in a bridal style. "Let's get going, we don't want the cops to be here anytime soon." He said as he rushed towards his car with you in his arms and his men following behind him. He looked down at your unconscious form in his arms, "Sleep tight, little one."

#hybrid reader #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #yandere mafia #mafia fanfic #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #yandere #yandere miguel x reader

[sanguineterrain]

it shall pass | miguel o'hara

Summary: Miguel isn’t alone, not anymore. Sometimes, he needs to be reminded of that.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader (some Spanish endearments are female-gendered, but other than that, no gendered descriptions.)

Word count: 1k

Content desc: bathing together, Miguel has a tough day, insecurity, established relationship. Lots of fluff bc he deserves to be taken care of!!!!

A/N: hi guys! I’m back with more Miguel <3 as usual, it’s not anyone’s responsibility to correct my Spanish, but I always appreciate corrections, if offered. Also, I try to use Mexican slang only, since Miguel is Mexican, so if something is off with that, please feel free to let me know. 

Translations: 

Hola, cielito - hi, sweetheart

Mi amor - my love

Estoy sucio - I’m dirty.

Solo para que pueda sentirte - Just so I can feel you.

¿Puedes hacerlo frente a mí, por favor? - In front of me, please?

No es nada - It’s nothing.

Tonto - fool/idiot 

Yo no sería nada sin ti - I’m nothing without you.

Es verdad - it’s true.

If you enjoy, please let me know through comments/reblogs ♡

the divider

Even after eight months together, Miguel enters your apartment like a cat burglar. Like he should not be here. 

You'd told him, at first, to stop that and used the truth as your reason: because he didn't need to. This is your home, but it's his too, and it puts pins in your heart every time he comes in like he's doing something wrong. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Then you'd tried humor. You scare the soul out of me when you do that, Miguelito. Maybe we should put a bell around your neck.

It hadn't done anything. He still acts like he's not allowed to jingle his keys in the lock and leave his shoes by the door and help himself to your shampoo and orange juice. 

So when you hear his footsteps at the door and you can track him as he heads for the kitchen, you’re worried. You rarely hear him coming. Miguel always finds you immediately, even if you're a block from the house. You'd asked him once how he knows it's you; he told you it’s because you have a distinct step. 

You might find that a little unnerving if you weren't so damn enamored with him. 

"Miggy? That you, sweetheart?"

He appears like you've summoned him, hunching in the doorway of the kitchen. You turn from the chopping board with a smile. It dims as you take in his appearance. 

"Hey," you say, putting down the knife and walking to him. 

"Hola, cielito," he says quietly, gaze downcast. 

You reach your hands up and Miguel bows his head slightly so you can cup his face. Your thumbs brush over his smooth jaw, caressing up and down in a pattern. 

"What happened, mi amor?"

He shakes his head. Miguel isn’t small, but you learned early on that he holds the most weight in his eyes. Every shard of guilt, every worry, every fear, they all sit in those crimson eyes. 

“Just—” He clears his throat, swallows. “Just a hard day.”

He brushes your hips with the pads of his fingers. You make a small noise, encouraging him.

“Touch me,” you say. 

He opens his mouth and maybe it’s because you’ve known him for so long, but you hear the words before he dares to say them. I don’t deserve to.

“I want you to,” you say before he can speak. 

“The dinner…”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, Mig. We can eat later.”

He’s still in his suit. You try to scan him for scratches or bruises, but the technology repairs itself, which makes it impossible for you to detect anything. 

“Estoy sucio,” he mumbles, still not touching you.

You think for a moment. Then you lace your hand with Miguel’s and tug him towards the bathroom. He follows, brow crooked in confusion but he trusts you. You know he does.

The bathtub had been a special installation. A treat, for you and Miguel. He doesn’t use it on his own; only at your prompting. But you’re glad for it anyway. 

You kneel and turn on the faucet, plugging the drain. You look up at Miguel, tilting your head at the tub. 

“What soap do you want?” you ask.

“The one you use,” he says.

You smile and take the honey and cloves bubble bath: one of the few things you allow yourself to indulge in. Miguel tightens his hands into fists. 

“Will you join me? Not—solo para que pueda sentirte,” he clarifies. 

You soften immeasurably, reaching to remove your shirt. 

“Yeah, baby,” you say quietly. “Of course I’ll join you.”

His hands relax. 

You stand to slip off your shorts. The tub fills quickly, and it’s only another minute before you have to turn it off. The water is foamy. Steam rises, and all the mirrors fog up. Miguel silently removes his suit. You watch his back muscles shift as he gracefully steps into the water. His shoulders are strung with tension. There’s a quickly fading bruise on his right shoulder and another on the side of his ribcage. You can’t do anything except let them heal.

“Want me to wash your hair?” you ask as he settles in the water, barely sloshing any.

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

You start to climb in behind him, equally bare, but Miguel stops you with a hand on your thigh. 

“¿Puedes hacerlo frente a mí, por favor?”

He looks up at you. A dark curl has fallen out of place, sitting over his eyebrow. It makes him look so young. He is young. You forget that sometimes. 

“Sure, honey,” you say, changing your position. “Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “No es nada.”

You take the little cup you keep on the edge of the tub and scoop water. You shield Miguel’s eyes as you wet his hair, pushing the water back over his scalp. Then you take the shampoo, lathering some between your palms. Miguel bows his head forward so you can reach. His hands creep to your waist again, more solid in their hold this time. You can feel the blunt divots where his talons rest in his fingers. They trace tiny circles on your skin. He’s trying to ground himself.

“Do you remember when we first met?” you ask.

Miguel snorts. “How could I forget? I was such a tonto that day.”

“You were not!” you insist, smiling. 

“I was. I can’t believe you agreed to a date with me.”

“Well, I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. I was very charmed by you, O’Hara. Still am.”

You fill the cup with water and cover Miguel’s eyes again as you rinse the shampoo out. You gently scrunch definition back into his waves. His hand slides up your back and Miguel pulls you into him, so your chest is against his. He rests his chin lightly on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck in response. 

“I missed you,” he says into your skin.

“You saw me this morning, mi amor.”

“I know.”

Miguel is warm and all-encompassing. You lightly massage the base of his scalp, nose pressed to his hair. He smells like the both of you. 

“Yo no sería nada sin ti,” he says.

“That’s not true,” you say, squeezing his shoulder. “Not true, Miggy.”

“Es verdad. You make me better.”

“We make each other better,” you correct. “And I have a year and a half of proof.”

Miguel sighs and it sounds a little wet. You hug him tighter.

“I got you.”

The water turns cold. Neither of you feel it, wrapped in each other.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #across the spiderverse x you #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

[titaniasfairy]

your stepbrother sam is so mean :(

(inspired by conversations w: @mortalheartache @zapernz @geekforhorror )

18+ MDNI!

cw: stepcest, mean!sam, fem!reader, sam is lowkey a perv, doggy, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, bitch)

stepbro!sam is such a meany to you :(( always tugging your hair while you’re studying or reading a book of some sorts.

he’ll come up behind you while you’re focused on finishing your homework with your headphones in and pencil moving on your paper when he pulls on your hair hard, causing you to yelp and yell out.

“sam stop! i need to get this done and you’re distracting me!”

he laughs at your annoyance while standing over your frustrated frame. his cock can’t help but twitch at your pouty lips and angry eyes.

“who cares, it’s not that important anyways. is it the end of the world if the little straight-a student doesn’t make the dean’s list?”

sam mocks your pouty face and bats his eyelashes with faux-sympathy. your eyes roll at his stupidly hot face while slamming your textbook shut and walking off into the kitchen.

his eyes immediately dart to your swaying hips and how good your ass looks in that skirt.

stepbro!sam doesn’t do laundry, like ever. even when there are absolutely no clean clothes left to wear. your parents make you take turns on who does what each week, but you always end up doing it for him anyways.

you’ll barge into his room while he’s blasting hard rock through his cheap stereo, plugging your ears with your fingers to try and drown out the noise.

“jesus, what do you want?” he barks at you and closes his laptop quickly (you wonder what he’s looking at…). he’s sat back in a desk chair with his arms crossed.

“for the love of god sam, do the laundry. i have absolutely no clean underwear!” sam smirks and stars down at your tits and how obvious it is that you’re not wearing a bra. your perky nipples peak out from the thin t-shirt your wearing and sam’s eyes are glued to it.

“i can see that.”

your jaw drops and you scoff, turning around and storming out of the room. “you’re such a creep, sam!” you yell out.

you don’t know that he purposefully doesn’t do the laundry so he can watch you prance around the house in no bra or panties under your clothes.

stepbro!sam never has any regard to you at all, always leaving stuff behind to clean up, never doing the dishes, tracking his cigarette smoke smell everywhere. he doesn’t even leave any hot water for you after he showers!

you’ll be all ready for your shower, skincare done and clothes off, all ready to start a new day. but when you step in and turn the water on, it’s freezing cold. after jumping away from the cold water, you realize the reason why and let out a scream in frustration.

before you can even think, you’re wrapping your towel around your nude body and storming into sam’s room.

“are you kidding me? you can’t even leave any hot wa-”

“well this is a nice view”

sam is laying on his bed with some magazine in his hand, an arm laid over his head to prop himself up. after realizing what he said, you try to cover yourself up more with your arms but there’s no point.

“no point in covering what i’ve already seen, sweetheart.”

once again, you’re turning around and storming out of his room, slamming the door and yelling “you’re so gross!”

sam’s grateful you didn’t hear him jerking off to the thought of you in the shower, water running so long it starts to turn cold.

but he’s meanest when he’s got you face down, ass up on his mattress. he holds your head down with his right hand and grips your ass with his left, slamming you into the bed beneath you.

his length pounds into your gummy walls and grazes your cervix, definitely leaving a bruise for later. sam’s balls are hitting your clit with each thrust, bringing you ever so close to bliss.

“don’t you fucking cum yet, whore. you think you can walk around being a sassy little prude and get away with it?”

tears sting in your eyes and your cunt clamps around him, his cock reaching the deepest spots inside you.

“sammy i’m sorry!! just please please let me cum!!”

“don’t you fucking dare. little bratty sluts don’t get to cum on their step brother’s cock.”

you try and let out an apology but your pathetic sobs just take over your words, filling the room with stupid cries and squelches of your juicy cunt.

“i don’t wanna hear it, bitch. now shut up and take it.”

#bear rambles #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x reader #this is really nasty #hayden christensen