Tumgik
#in that it wants to be comforting but there is still that haunting note that doesnt make you feel quite right fully relaxing
keikikait · 3 days
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ʀᴇᴅ ʟɪɴᴇ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)
this is part three. for part two, click here!
pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)
word count: 2.6k
summary: you and megumi almost had a moment, but is that all it will ever be?
warnings: SMUT! MDNI 18+, full on p in v, protection is implied but not stated, use of the word cock, kinda dom!megumi, slight sub!reader, restraining (with hands), light choking (just for like 2 scenes), SLIGHT edging, use of the nickname slut, reader is kinda dumb (good way), suggestive flirting, jealous megs, slight feelings of self doubt / self deprecation at the beginning (so ig slight angst?), not proofread
a note: might be a small delay before pt. 4 x
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
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He should’ve knocked on the fucking door.
Megumi enters his apartment, slamming his fist onto his kitchen counter. He felt like such a coward, he had you in the palm of his hand and he just let you run off. He was certain that you felt the same way, certain that if he kissed you you would grip onto the collar of his t-shirt and enthusiastically kiss him back. Was he wrong? Was he foolish? Was he reading this entire situation so wrong? He felt not good enough, he felt insignificant, something he hadn’t felt since graduating high school and cutting off contact with his father. He used to think he was smart, but you made him feel so naïve. Megumi knew he hadn’t always been nice to you, yelling at you over a fucking motorcycle, but normally he didn’t care what others thought. He would simply ignore them if they didn’t like him, but with you it was different. He wanted you to like him. He wanted you to pay attention to him, he would even take te constant bickering over whatever the hell it was you were currently doing.
Megumi was walking a thin, red line, a line that lead to his future, and he was hoping you would want to walk it with him. His bike gave him a feeling of independence, something he never had before moving out and living on his own. He was in and out of everyone’s life, a flash that was gone in the blink of an eye, but he didn’t feel that way with you. He wanted you to stick around, even in the platonic way, although he had to admit that he wanted to make you his. He wanted to wrap his hand around your throat and kiss you right in front of your friend, make you melt into his arms as you gripped his t-shirt and clinged to him. He wanted to fuck you dumb and leave you a drooling, cum covered mess every night. 
You were avoiding him, again, always getting into that car with that guy and his stupid fucking pink hair. He couldn’t take it anymore. You had said he was your friend, just your friend, but Megumi didn’t believe you. Even if your actions were friendly, Megumi couldn’t guarantee that your friend’s were too. Megumi wanted you, and he wanted you to want him too. He wanted to be your boyfriend, or perhaps even more. He wanted to eventually move out of this apartment complex and find a new, bigger place, but he wanted to it with you.
You, in truth, had been staying over at Yuji’s house a lot the last few days, even just hanging out at his place to pet sit for him while he was at work. It wasn't just a matter of convenience; staying over at his place gave you a sense of comfort and familiarity that you couldn't quite explain. Every once in a while, you would find yourself mindlessly petting Yuji’s boy cat, Sora, as if he would chase away the lingering thoughts of Megumi. In a way, he did, choosing to sleep on your chest on Yuji’s couch, keeping you from touching yourself while you were away.
It wasn't that you were deliberately trying to avoid him. It was more like a natural instinct to create some distance between the two of you. The memory of that night outside your apartment still haunted your mind, and you were struggling to make sense of his confusing actions. You didn’t know his true intentions, and as much as you wanted to believe that he liked you, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in the back of your mind that was telling you the opposite. Being with him had been plaguing your mind for the past few weeks, thoughts of him always returning to you at night while you dimmed your lights and slipped your hand between your thighs, but a doubtful part of you was insisting that was all it would ever be; thoughts of Megumi, not Megumi himself.
As you spent more time at Yuji's house, you found yourself drawn to his easygoing nature and genuine kindness. His presence provided a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil you were experiencing, and he seemed to understand your need for space from Megumi and was always there to offer a listening ear without judgment, although he was kind of getting tired about how pretty Megumi is. 
A couple of days later, there was a knock at your door. Your heart skipped a beat. You knew who it was. He stood there, looking nervous and apologetic. He wanted to explain himself, to apologize if he had crossed any lines. He also wanted to know if you were dating that guy, but he thought that part could wait. At least for a little bit.
You open the door, seemingly fresh out of the shower, your hair wet as you carefully dry it. You smelled so good, like berries, and he felt his throat instantly dry up. He was admiring you for a bit too long, you were wearing a t-shirt and short little pyjama shorts that he just wanted to rip off of you - “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”
You blink, throwing your towel over your shoulder. “Sure.”
“So, um…”  His eyes linger on your shorts and thighs, his gaze passing over your body before he drags his eyes back up to meet yours. He just couldn’t help himself. “Could I come in?” You nod, stepping aside to let him in. He steps inside, making the space feel a lot smaller with his presence. 
You notice he has a faint smile on his lips, and that he keeps staring at you, but for once, it's not with irritation.  “Um, so…” he takes a deep breath. “So you know how we had a bit of a…moment a couple days ago?” Five days, to be exact, not that he was counting or anything.
“Yeah, I remember.” You say.
“Yeah…” his expression changes as he starts to feel more and more nervous. “Well... I just wanted to apologize for making you uncomfortable. I shouldn't have been so forward. It's just-”
“No, Megumi, it’s okay.” You say, interrupting him. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. Not at all.”
“What?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “But you ran off…I assumed I had overstepped a boundary. You know, asking the…masturbation question.” He says the last part quietly. 
You suddenly realised how close you two actually were. Your apartment felt incredibly small with just you, and with Megumi there it felt even smaller. Your chests were practically pushed together as you looked up at him. You set the towel down on your desk chair, awkwardly shifting on your feet. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I just wasn’t expecting the question.”
He nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his zip-up hoodie. “Good. I know we haven’t always gotten along but I’ve never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I can be an asshole a lot of the time, but I’m not…like that, you know?”
You nod. “No, I understand, Megumi. Thank you for apologising.”
He smiles. “Yeah. No problem.” He sighs a little, leaning against the wall. “So can we…start over? Go back to the beginning?”
You chuckle. “You wanna start fighting again?”
He smirks. “Maybe. If it would mean you would pay attention to me again. Don’t think I’ve noticed that you’ve been avoiding me. Again.”
You blush, stuttering as you search for a response. “N-no, it’s not like that-”
Megumi chuckles. “I mean, I get it. I would always yell at you and then asked you what you thought about while you masturbated. I would avoid me too.”
Your blush deepens. “It’s not like that, Megumi.”
He smiles. “I’m glad.” You both sit there in a comfortable silence before he speaks again. “So, can I ask you something?”
You nod. “Sure. Unless it’s what I think about when I’m touching myself.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that,” He clears his throat. “That guy that picks you up and drops you off sometimes. Are you two…dating?”
“Yuji? Pink hair?” He nods and you shake your head in return. “No. I’m just his friend.”
“You promise?” Megumi asks, taking a step towards you. You nod, looking up at him. You looked so cute like that, your eyes all big, practically begging him to get closer. 
He does, taking another step towards you. He reaches out, planting his hands on the sides of your arms, watching your face and body language as he drags his hands down towards your own. Your skin was so soft and smooth, and his hands felt so good on you, rough and calloused from the years of bike maintenance.
You blush, but don’t move away. You gulp, finally finding your voice. “Do you want to know the answer? To the question you asked me a few days ago?”
He feels his cock start to harden, images of you touching yourself filling his mind. “God, yes.”
You bite your lip and he feels his cock throb. “You, Megumi. I’ve been thinking about you.”
He lets out a shaky, deep moan as he grabs your hands, pulling you against his chest. He moves your hands behind your back, his grip tight but loose enough where you could move away if you wanted to. “Yeah? You think about me while you touch yourself? Do you finger yourself or rub that cute little clit of yours?”
You gasp softly, letting him restraining you. “Both.”
He lets out another deep moan of approval, gripping your wrists tighter. He feels his cock harden even more. “God, you’re driving me crazy. I think about you too, baby. I think about you and fucking your cute little mouth everytime I jack off.” Your head spins and you lean against him, unable to think straight. You just simply moan in response, nodding your head.
Megumi grips your wrists tighter, leading you up into your loft, throwing you onto your bed. He climbs on top of you, holding you down. “Is this okay?”
You nod.
“Words, baby.” He says, leaning down to kiss and bite your earlobe. “Use your words.”
Your mouth feels like cotton and you struggle to respond. “Yes, Megumi. It’s okay. Please keep going.”
He chuckles, pressing his hard cock against your thigh as he starts to grind on you. “Good girl. You even know how to say please.” You gasp, your entire body shuddering as your legs drop open. Megumi shifts his hips, slotting his cock right over your clothed pussy, grinding up against it. “You drive me crazy, baby. Every night I hear your pretty little moans through the wall and I just…think about what it would be like to fuck you dumb. To fill you up with my cum over and over, to cum on your little clit and rub it and hear you squeal.” Your mouth drops open and he takes this opportunity to sloppily kiss you, shoving his tongue in your mouth. Your thoughts are filled with him, just Megumi, the way it should be. He pulls away, a line of spit connecting your mouths and you shake, panting and squirming. He moves one hand to wrap around your throat, and is about to ask if it’s okay when you let out a strangled moan, your eyes threatening to roll back. He chuckles. “Such a good girl.”
Your brain is too foggy, too filled with thoughts of Megumi and the way he feels grinding against your pussy that you can’t speak, reaching your freehand down to pull off your shorts. 
He smirks, squeezing your neck a little bit. “So impatient. You don’t want me to eat you out, baby? You don’t wanna feel my tongue on you?”
You whine, finally pulling your shorts down. “I do, Megs, I do…but if you don’t fuck me I actually might explode.” He laughs at you and it makes your pussy clench. He leans back on his knees to pull your shorts and panties down. He grabs your legs and bends them back, pressing your thighs against your torso. He can’t help himself, leaning down and licking your clit, swirling his tongue in little circles, chuckling to himself as you squirm and grind your pussy on his face. “Megumi!”
He pulls away and laughs again, replacing his tongue with his thumb. “I know, I know. I couldn’t help myself. You look so delicious.” Your impatient whine is cut off when he starts to pull his sweatpants down, taking his boxers with it. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head when you see his cock. Long, but not too thick, with balls that are practically begging to be drained. He grins at your reaction, rubbing his tip with his thumb. “Is it big?”
You nod, your mouth going dry again. “Really big, Megs. Might not fit inside me.”
He tuts at you, grabbing his cock at the base and rubbing the tip against your clit. “Nah. You can take it. And if you can’t, I’ll just have to stretch you out with my fingers and make you cum a few times.”
He suddenly slides in all the way to the hilt, leaning over you and gripping your hair at the root, groaning into your ear about how good you feel. He gives you a few seconds to adjust, kissing the side of your head affectionately. You can practically feel him in your throat, your eyes threatening to roll back into your skull.
Megumi starts thrusting, one hand remaining in your hair and the other going down so his thumb can rub your clit in gentle circles. He’s saying something but you can’t hear him, too full of him to pay attention, but he doesn’t mind at all. He likes how quickly he can turn your mind to mush, how quickly you submit to him. He never wants to let you go after this.
You wrap your legs around his waist as his thrusts pick up, digging your heels into the small of his back. You wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes glazed over as you moan his name over and over. Your pussy clenches and he nearly cums, burying his face in your neck, biting at the skin to keep himself from busting too soon. 
It’s your turn to grip his hair at the root, your pussy clenching around him again as he rubs your clit at a delicious angle. Your whole body shudders and you arch your back into him. “Megumi!”
“Not yet,” He whispers into your ear, his voice deep. “Not yet, you little slut. You need my permission. You can hold on a bit longer, can’t you?” You nod, biting your lip as you will yourself to focus on not cumming. You could do it easily, but Megumi was having a hard time holding out himself. The way you felt around him, all tight and wet, and the way you bit your lip was driving him crazy, not to mention the way you were following all of his orders so perfectly. You really wanted to please him, didn’t you? Megumi can only hold out for a little bit longer before rubbing your clit harder, biting your neck to keep himself from utterly loosing control. “Come on, baby. Cum for me. You can do it. You’re such a good girl…”
And you are, cumming exactly when he tells you to, your hips bucking into his as he talks you through your orgasm. You look so cute coming undone around him, your eyes watering, lips pouty as you moan his name like a prayer. You bury your face in his chest, breathing heavily.
“Thank you.” You say, and Megumi decides right then and there that he’s keeping you.
Megumi grins, stroking your hair. “You’re welcome, baby.” He kisses your forehead, looking down at you adoringly as you curl up against his chest.
You’re all his now.
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let me know what you think my lovelies!
★taglist: @whereflowerswenttodie, @rosieandthethorns, @sillygoose3082, @byebibyemia, @ichorstainedskin, @myeeym, @peach-filth, @aockskcw, @phoenixmoxxileigh, @gojussybussylover (reply to this post if you want to be included in the taglist! italics mean i couldn't tag you!)
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sttoru · 6 months
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𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 .
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⟣ sypnosis. a nightmare of your lover’s disappearance wakes you from your sleep.
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, comfort, fluff. takes place after gojo’s unsealed but before dec 24th, bits of spoilers jjk leaks 236 at the end. mentions of death, blood.
⟣ note. based on it’s happening again by agnes obel. coping rn dhmu . . . not proofread bcs i cant read through my tears anyways hope u enjoy im gonna cry myself to sleep now
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everyone has to die at one point — not even the strongest of all could avoid that tragical fate. not even the strongest sorcerer you call your lover.
no, not even him. the universe couldn’t spare him. you thought that maybe, it would. maybe fate wouldn’t apply to him. oh, how wrong you were.
blood splatter—a stream of red liquid. right at your feet. right in front of your eyes. a man in half. and not just any regular man;
“satoru !”
your dark surroundings become blurry with tears, your body jolts out of its current dreaming state. you could feel your heart in your chest—in your throat. your brain shut itself off for a few seconds as your eyes try to make out shapes and figures in the room you’re in. your bedroom.
you only then realises that it was all just a gruesome nightmare. a hyperrealistic one at that; one that will haunt you for years.
“hmmh.. ‘m right here, baby.” a groggy voice next to you replies to your yell in agony. the yell that was the shape of your lover’s name leaving your lips—
you instantly turn your head to the right and there he was; the man whom just met death in your dreams. gojo satoru, all alive and well. in your bed, in your presence, in your life.
satoru’s hand aimlessly pats the space next to him in search of your body whilst he rubbed his eyes with the other, trying to adjust his sight to the dark so he could find you. you seemed to be in complete distress. which he does not like.
“it’s okay, shh, shh,” your lover hums, hand finally finding your arm. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you on top of him—your head laying on his chest.
his body was warm. his heartbeat was there. loud and clear in your right ear.
“satoru. . .” a river of tears flows down your cheeks like a dam that has been broken into. your body trembles, lungs feeling like they couldn’t get any air in them from how hard you were sobbing. the pain of losing your loved one; it all came flowing back to you.
satoru frowns, “hey, hey. look at me — sweetheart, c’mon.”
he instantly sits up and pulls you along with him. his hands find your cheeks, tilting your head up. this time it was his turn to feel his heart break in pieces. you looked absolutely distraught. as if you just went through a traumatic experience of some kind. he hated it.
“shit,” satoru mutters under his breath before pulling you into his embrace again, arms circling your waist with his head buried in the crook of your neck, “it’s okay, i’m here now. you’re safe.”
it wasn’t the first time you had nightmares when he was with you. you had them regularly after satoru had gotten sealed in the prison realm for nineteen days—nineteen days of dread for you. of an empty bed, an empty house and an empty life.
when satoru had finally been released from the prison realm it was like a dream come true. a happy dream, that is. not those repetitive, bad ones you have every now and then. you still get those nightmares of your lover being either taken away from you by force or by death itself. your brain couldn’t give you a break — even after his return.
“take a deep breath in,” satoru instructs and sets an example by doing the breathing exercise with you, “hold it for three seconds . . . breathe out for six. mhmm, good—jus’ like that.”
you repeat it a couple more times, sobbing and shaking throughout the entirety of the exercise, but eventually manage to calm down a little. satoru sighs in relief at this;
“you okay, baby?”
you nod weakly and sniff, wanting nothing more than to be held by the man you thought had vanished from your life forever. you had that scare once, when he was sealed, and you never want to go back to those dark times. ever.
“it’s— i, just—“ you hiccup once, unable to complete entire sentences, “i thought you w-were gone. i thought you had died.”
it was silent after that (except for the sound your silent sobs and sniffles). satoru had guessed by now that you saw him die in your dream — that much was pretty obvious. but, the thought that you were this distressed because of it makes him. . . happy in a way.
happy that someone would mourn over him at least.
“well,” satoru pensively replies, hands rubbing your back up and down soothingly, “everyone has to meet their end one day, you know?”
that sentence was one that was meant to lighten up the grim mood somehow. one of his many lighthearted remarks that were supposed distract you from your tears. it would work during other moments like these — were you’d be too baffled by the things satoru says to care about what you were crying for — yet today it only worsens your misery.
“shut up.” you weakly punch his chest to which the white haired male chuckles softly, his slender fingers instantly interlocking with yours. satoru’s thumb brushes against your wrist before pulling it up to his lips, placing ticklish kisses among your skin.
another silence hangs in the air.
“seriously though. . . if i were to somehow die, i’d want you to live and move on, yeah?” your lover whispers in such a quiet tone that it was almost inaudible. satoru had looked death right in the eye before — he didn’t care back then if it were actually his end.
he does now. he has the world to lose — his world — his everything. you.
satoru wants to live a happy life with you. he doesn’t want to die now that he has you. the love of his life which he wants to grow old with. maybe have kids with. start an own family away from the busy streets, away from the swarming curses in the city and away from all that sorcerer stuff. it was a nice dream.
“shut it!” you huff and satoru takes another weak punch to the chest. his gaze lands upon your tear struck face and he instantly drops the serious ‘act’.
the sorcerer laughs, his usual boyish laugh that makes you feel better, and he flips you both over so that he has you pinned underneath him. satoru grins before kissing your tummy all over, making you giggle from the ticklish feeling;
“i’m playin’, baby! i’m not going anywhereeee!” he promises through wet pecks against your skin, the smile on his evident even if you couldn’t see it — you could hear it in his voice.
satoru leaves your tummy and moves on to your neck and face. he was smothering you in affection in hopes you’d cheer up some way. he just wants you to forget about anything bad happening to him. you didn’t deserve to think about all that stuff — you deserve to be happy and full of joy.
even without him one day.
“i’d never leave my princess all alone.” satoru shakes his head and pouts dramatically, “who else is gonna spoil you? or kiss and cuddle you to bed, huh?”
you finally show an ounce of joy. a tiny smile. that was all satoru had needed to see. he wasn’t going to stop there, however. his goal was to turn that small smile into a full blown fit of laughter.
“i’m one of a kind, baby. you’re never gonna meet a man like me.” he continues with a proud grin, putting all of his body weight on top of you which causes you to groan and grumble a lighthearted complain.
satoru knows you like it whenever he clings to you and thus he uses that piece of knowledge to help you feel better. his head was buried into your shoulder, limbs enveloping your body like a koala.
“whatever.” you roll your eyes and snuggle up to your lover, closing your eyes as the tiredness hits your body after all that crying.
“whatever !” satoru mocks you in a high-pitched tone, followed by a pair of giggles from the two of you. a third and final punch to the chest finally shuts him up for the rest of the night.
the sorcerer made sure you had fallen asleep first before he whispered the next words in your ear, hoping they’d calm your mind and body so that no nightmares would ever bother you again;
“don’t you worry, sweets. i’m not leaving you. ever.”
. . .
those were the same exact words satoru wished he could utter to you one last time before the current date — 24th of december.
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loveshotzz · 4 months
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We’re supposed to be eating breakfast
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older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot
summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.
wc: 3.1k
warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.
authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)
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The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.
You were in Steve’s room.
A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.
Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.
Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.
Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.
The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.
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The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.
Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.
A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.
He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.
“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.
You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.
It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.
“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”
“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.
“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”
You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.
“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.
Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.
You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.
“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.
His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.
“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.
“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”
Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.
“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.
Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.
“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.
Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.
“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”
You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.
“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.
“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.
“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.
“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”
Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.
“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.
“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.
His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.
“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”
His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.
“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”
Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.
Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.
“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.
“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.
“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.
Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.
“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.
His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.
“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”
“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.
“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”
“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.
You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.
“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”
He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.
He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.
“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”
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unclewaynemunson · 5 months
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Pt2 to this post
'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.
It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.
Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'
'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'
Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.
'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'
'What happened?'
He sighs. 'It's complicated.'
'Wanna tell me about it?'
The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.
But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.
He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.
'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.
Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.
'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'
'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.
Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.
'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'
Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.
'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.
'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'
She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'
'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'
She nods. 'Okay.'
For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.
'Is it Eddie?'
Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.
'Wha- what?'
'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'
'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.
Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'
Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'
'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'
'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'
Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'
To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.
'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'
'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'
'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'
'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.
Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)
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bluerosefox · 8 months
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Gothamites Never Really Rest
Small warning in this: very light swearing, light mentions of deaths, and tw light touching on the subject of abuse, like very light. But still an fyi.
Danny was used to his main Rogues (Boxy, Ember, Skulker, etc etc, you know those guys) showing up randomly and at odd hours, causing some chaos around town due to their own boredom or just wanting some fun (the more deadly ones were rare to show up and his main Rogues do at least respect him enough to give him the rest of the day off when they sense a ‘big bad’ fight), he fights them, wins, before he send them back to the portal. Then they rinse and repeat this for the next day.
So as he really wasn’t expecting, especially since he had just sent his ghostly quota for the day back to the portal a few hours ago (Boxy of course, and Youngblood (dressed as a Firefighter this time, though the ending for their fight actually ended on a good note. YB had been asking Danny about space, Danny kinda hoped YB will be an Astronaut next time cause that would be fun)), Johnny 13 (and Shadow) to phase into his room as he was heading to bed.
Honestly (he groaned when he realized who it was, dealing with Johnny, Kitty (and Shadow) during a ‘break up’ or ‘lovers spat’ always was a pain) he was expecting Johnny to just start attacking but before Danny could demanded to know what he was doing in his room Johnny hesitatingly asked if they could talk.
Now Danny, talking to his main Rogues, like legit talking was a very rare thing. But it has happened a few times.
With Johnny asking if they could talk, his face nervous but not in a 'I pissed off Kitty and idk where she ran off to again', Danny nodded and agreed.
"Hey, so like I know we all kinda agreed not to go roaming too far from Amity because of the whole government suits guys and bringing unwanted attention to us ghosts in the names of the Super Dorks but is it alright if Kitty and I head across the state for a few days? I promise we'll be back and stay under the radar..."
"What?! Why would you guys need to something like that?!"
"....."
"Johnny, look dude I know Amity can get boring sometimes but-"
"Someone killed Kitty's abusive waste of space father three weeks ago, you know that fucker that killed us in cold blood when he found out Kitty and I were enloping. Yeah him. We felt it, we felt him die and... kid I can tell you how our cores SANG about it when he croaked. Whoever ended him, they did so for us. It was a revenge kill... It felt amazing. Its why you havent seen us too, we... we needed time to process that." Johnny quickly explained and that shut any protest Danny had up, he knew a bit of the story how Johnny and Kitty died, and it was respectful to allow one's fellow ghost to talk about their deaths should they talk of it.
With a melancholy smile and a hand petting a chirping Shadow who sprung up to comfort his other half, Johnny then said "Kitty's been avoiding returning to Gotham for ages since we woke up in the Realms and whenever we found a natural portal back to it. She's always been terrified of running into him and even being a ghost she's still can't. But he's gone now, we felt his life end and he isn't a ghost either! Like legit, if he became a ghost we'd still be able to sense our murderer you know!... Anyways she wants to visits her old haunts and maybe see if we can find some old friends, see how they're doing you know. We won't mess with them or anything, just a small pop in..."
"We... We also kinda wanna find the guy who did it too... We could feel his emotions when he ended Kitty's old man and firstly let me tell you, rage. Like a lot of it. But also we felt his need for justice and... he felt familiar... like someone we knew and he knew us. That's how we know it's a revenge kill. Someone did that for us and well.... Kitty and I wanna thank him you know."
-x-x-
Meanwhile in Gotham about three week prior.
A budding Crime Lord had crossed out the face of a older man from a photograph pinned onto a corkboard, below and connected by red strings was two other papers as well. One held the newspaper clipping of two bodies being found in a ditch with the remains of a busted up motorcycle, a young male and female were reportedly found halfway buried in it. The male was reported to be a trouble maker from Crime Alley, knowen for stealing tires while the female was the daughter of a suspected mob boss.
The other string however, lead to a small, yellowed from age and tiny bit damaged photo of three people. The photo held two older, nearly out of their teens, male and female both looking like rough city street kids. A motorcycle could be seen behind them an it was missing a wheel. The young man with blonde hair was kneeling on the ground, his hands holding onto a tire iron and he looked rather proud, the young female was wearing red and had some dye in her hair and was smiling as she held the camera taking the picture in a selfie as best as she could.
In between the two was a young kid, blue eyes and black hair, a beaming smile on his face as his own hands were on top of a tire wheel. A wheel he had finally learned how to take off in record speed thanks to Johnny teaching him.
Green eyes that shifted for a second to teal stared at the photo for a moment before saying
"Hope you both are resting easily now. Kitty, Johnny."
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k-atsukibakugou · 5 days
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tw: sfw, childhood best friends, mutual pining, w/c: 0.6k notes: uh I was slapped in the face with this scene so here u go; I wuv domestic bakugou, idc how bad this is it was haunting me
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the tips of bakugou's hair droop ever so slightly at the moisture in the air, the blond growing darker in the steam. he adjusts himself in the bathtub, getting as comfortable as he can in the empty porcelain tub in front of your shower, the discomfort of the hardness against him the last thing on his mind as he listened to you talk, unconcerned by discomfort, or the steam settling on him, the feeling of his clothes sticking in the humidity. you're animated, he can see even that through the steam, the way your hands wave about wildly, one at your face as you scrubbed it, the other gesturing passionately behind the glass.
you swipe the condensation from the frosted glass in front of your eyes, "you know?!"
you’re incredulous, your brows down in a scowl as you gossip about someone he probably doesn’t even know the name of. he hums his agreement, content listening to you rant and rave all about the most recent news in your life, and watching your blurred silhouette.
“okay, close your eyes, im gonna get my towel.” your voice is light, not a trace of apprehension, this habit like second nature to you now. bakugou obeys, grunting when you’re safe to climb out of the shower.
he can feel you near him, the heat and steam radiating off of your skin, the clean scent of your soap entering his nostrils, clouding his head more than the steam. you're close enough to brush your wet skin against his, the softness of your towel fluttering against his forearm when you wrap it around yourself.
“hey, are you home this weekend? the old lady keeps asking about you.” he doesn’t care he interrupts your story of the latest episode you watched. hearing your lips part and close, his ears prick, waiting for your gentle hum to reach his ears.
“depends, what are you going to make me for dinner?” you sit down at the edge of the bathtub, reaching to poke his face, one cherry red eye cracking open, then the other. he’s met with your smiling face, a strike of adoration hitting him in the heart at your pretty features, as damp as his from the steam, a droplet running down the side of your throat to the top of your towel tucked into itself at your chest.
“whatever you want me to make.” his voice is softer than he wants it to be, his adam’s apple nervously bobbing in his throat, his mouth dryer than it had ever been with you this close, he’s had you closer; pulled into tight hugs when you were 5, closer again at 9 when you wrestled with him in the mud, his heart starting to race at 15 when his parents made him shuffle ‘closer, katsuki, you guys are friends,’ when you graduated lower secondary school together. every moment since then turning out like this, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, the air shifting the longer you stared at each other, his chest about to touch yours when you respond, your breath fanning over his cheeks at your proximity, “yeah, i’ll be there.”
he deludes himself for a moment, thinking you sound as nervous as he does, thinking your pupils dilate ever-so-slightly the longer you stare at each other, thinking maybe your lips pucker when your gaze falls, when you lean a touch closer, years of tension about to break between you both.
"i'll get out of your way." you clear your throat and stand back up, water still dripping from your body, katsuki jumping back like he was electrocuted by your sudden movement, muttering an agreement, a foreign anxiety settling in his stomach even as he sheds his shirt; sparing one last glance before you latch the door, katsuki catches your wide eyes once more and wonders if they mirror the adoration in his.
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norrizzandpia · 7 months
Text
Gentle (LN4)
Summary: In which Y/n’s past is a little haunted, but Lando knows exactly how to make her understand she’s safe with him.
Warnings: verbal abuse, panic attack, sort of PTSD but not directly named
Note: i really like this one
Lando had always been known as a gentle soul. Whether that was with kids or animals or adults, he treated people with a certain level of mercy that was adored by many. That didn’t change with Y/n. In fact, it intensified.
She hadn’t had that much experience when it came to relationships. Only two boyfriends before meeting Lando and one of them only lasted two months while the other was abusive. Not physically, but verbally. Constantly tearing her down and stripping her of everything she deemed worthy about herself. She was so guarded, so quiet, that when Lando and her started dating he immediately assumed her last boyfriend hadn’t been the best. That idea was proven right when the two of them had their first fight and she had begged him to forgive her even though she had done nothing wrong.
Tears streaming down her face after his voice raised, she cried, “Lando, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is my fault. I’m sorry. I’m-” Her voice gave out as Lando stared at her. The cowering of her shoulders and the avoidance of eye contact told him everything he needed to know.
He approached her with added caution, making sure she was comfortable with his actions to take her in his arms, “It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry for scaring you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispered as he pushed her head into his chest, rubbing over her hair softly.
He had sat with her like that for hours, holding her and reminding her that he wouldn’t ever take advantage of her in the way she had been before. Reminding her that she was safe with him.
The next time her past came to taunt them was a few months later. Y/n had leapt out of bed early in the morning to make breakfast for him, wanting nothing more to surprise the man she loved. However, that plan took a turn when she looked away from the pan and toaster for too long. Burnt toast and charcoaled bacon had her staring down in defeat. She had been trying to clean up the mess when he had woken up and walked in.
“What happened here?” He asked her. His tone wasn’t accusatory, actually it had been soft and concerned, but Y/n was taken back to two years before when she had messed up the dinner and her ex-boyfriend had come in, yelling about her incompetence and inability to do anything by herself.
“Nothing,” She shook her head, determined to protect herself from, in her mind, the inevitable lashing she would get for her innocent mistake.
Lando had come over, his hands running up and down her shaking arms, and coaxed the soapy pan out of her grasp, “Love, what’s wrong?”
Still, she didn’t clock his concern for her. Her eyes darted around before she choked out, “I accidentally burnt the toast and eggs when I was trying to make you breakfast. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone. I could have prevented this and now your kitchen smells bad. I’m so sorry. I can-”
His soft kiss against her hairline stopped her rambling, he already knew, “It’s okay, Y/n. Thank you for thinking of me. That’s all that matters.”
Her head dropped down to study the dish water, sad and disappointed in her mistake. If he wasn’t going to beat her up for it, she had been programmed to do it herself.
Lando knew this, and was extremely familiar with it when it came to her. He was an expert in the telltale signs of her dismay and overthinking. So, when he saw the way he started to lose her, he turned her around. Pushing the hair out of her face and giving her the sweetest smile, he reminded her, “Baby, it was an innocent mistake. People burn things all the time. Most people wouldn’t even make breakfast to begin with. You always say the thought’s what counts. That applies here too.”
Her body tanged around him, her arms wrapping around his waist and head snuggling into his chest, Y/n nodded lightly.
“I know,” She mumbled, “I just could’ve done better for you.”
Chuckling and pulling her head back softly to kiss her gently, Lando whispered, “You are and will always be enough for me just by yourself.”
Y/n was doing better. A year after the breakfast incident, she was thriving, realizing just how much Lando loved her for her. That was until she stumbled across a video from the deep depths of her camera roll. The video had been from a time when Chris, her ex, had been so verbally abusive that she was trying to get a restraining order against him. In order to do that, however, she needed proof and the only way to do that was to record him secretly when he went off on her. The poor girl had been alone in Lando’s apartment as he went out to grab groceries for their movie night when the sound came blasting through her speakers.
One swipe had it playing, “YOU STUPID BITCH! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”
Her small voice squeaked, “I just wanted to go out with my friends. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t stop, “AND TURN OFF YOUR LOCATION? FUCKING STUPID WHORE. WHAT WERE YOU DOING THEN? I BET HOOKING UP WITH SOME GUY IN THE BACK OF AN ALLEY LIKE THE DIRTY SLUT YOU ARE.”
Y/n could hear her own tears begin both in the video and in reality, “No, we were just at Paige’s house. We didn’t go out to a bar at all. I know how you feel about me doing that.”
His voice continued to dominate hers, “HOW DO I KNOW YOU AREN’T LYING? HUH?”
She sighed, clearly exhausted, “I don’t know, Chris. I’m sorry.”
He scoffed, “Yeah, sounds about right. The whore can’t prove she wasn’t out fucking every guy she saw. God, you’re lucky to be with me. No one will ever want you.”
With that, the door was slamming shut and the video was ending, leaving a crying Y/n in its wake. Her whole body shaking, she felt the panic attack coming on as she threw her phone to the side and got up from bed. She tried to get to the kitchen, maybe grab water and physically force the rising emotions down, but she got halfway there when she fully broke down in the middle of the hallway. Gasping for air and sobbing by herself like she always had, Y/n clutched the side of the wall.
The sound of the door closing and feet coming to a halt echoed distantly through her ears. She knew it was Lando, but a part of her was still back there. In that house, in that relationship with a man that, if he had ever found her in the state she was in, would have laughed in her face and locked her away in a bedroom to figure it out herself.
Even so, Lando’s concerned face soothed her. His hands scooping her up and pulling her into his embrace, pleading with her to breathe.
“Baby, you’re okay. It’s okay. You’re here with me. Only me. Come back to me.” He whispered in her ear as he placed her hand on his heart, showing her the rhythm in which she needed to reach.
They stayed that way for a few moments as Y/n came back down to Earth. She didn’t need to tell him she had been triggered for him to know. He always knew.
His hands tangled in her hair, he smiled at his, now, calm girlfriend, “Welcome back, baby.”
Her smile was soft and weak, but there and that’s all that mattered to him.
“Thank you, Lan. I’m-” She began to say, but his kissing her interrupted her apology.
Pulling back, he drew small shapes on her cheekbones, “Remember, we don’t say that here unless you actually have something to be sorry for. Which is usually me.”
The two laughed together before he brought her back to his bed and laid with her, protecting her from the scary memories in her mind. The night went on, his hands caring for her in the way they always had, and it just reinforced the fact that Y/n was with the perfect man.
A gentle man.
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unsolvedjarin · 7 months
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just you wait sunshine.
pairing: (sebastian vettel x driver! reader)
summary: sebastian’s retirement has led him to reminisce his past life and mistakes, including you. little does he know, the universe is about to give him a second chance via a small bookstore in switzerland.
note: this went on WAYYY longer than i wanted it to be and it didn’t really go the direction i wanted either, but we move
content warning: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, more sebastian centric than reader centric tbh (sorry i just love him so much)
word count: 3.7k
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Retirement had been good to Sebastian.
He’d finally been able to spend time in his farm house, plant some trees, grow a garden, and along with all that, still have time to drive cars whenever an event needed him to. It was like his entire life schedule magically cleared up in front of him.
He missed racing of course, he won’t pretend that he didn’t. After all, he spent 15 years in the sport, it was his pride and joy for quite a long time. But that time of his life is over, he’s accepted that. He wanted to enjoy the other things in life instead, be able to see and experience things that the busy life of being a driver didn’t let him experience.
Sitting on a chair in his porch watching the sun set, he reflects on what he could have done differently. Who he could have treated differently. And when only one name enters his mind, the same one that’s haunted him for the past 5 years, he sighs reluctantly and heads back inside to prepare his dinner.
2012
“What do you wanna do when you grow up?”
The question takes you by surprise as you take another swig of your beer. The moon shone brightly on the porch of whatever airbnb your team had set you up at, and the stars were sparkling like they had never before.
“What kind of question is that, Sebby?” you giggle. “Isn’t this what we’re gonna do for eternity? Racing?”
Sebastian shrugs, looking up at the sky on his foldable chair that you had brought on the trip. “Yeah but after that, you know? I’ve always thought about what my life will be like after retirement.”
“Okay old man, because you’re sooo close to retiring,” you tease. He gives you a playful light shove for that, smiling as he does. The air feels freer and lighter than it ever has before.
“But seriously,” Sebastian chuckled. “Have you ever thought about it?”
You ponder for a second before replying, “No, not really. I mean my career’s just starting, I haven’t really thought about the end. But when I do retire, I think I’d like to be a writer.”
“Like those egotistical types to make a biographical book about themselves?” Sebastian asks, earning a laugh from you. The sound made him feel things that he’d only ever felt before with you.
“God no,” you laugh out. “I don’t wanna be like those old blokes who get obsessed with themselves after they retire. I just wanna write fictional books, maybe under a pen name. Just a simple life; me, my theoretical dog, and my theoretical book.”
Sebastian nods with an understanding look in his eye. He wants that life too. A simple one, away from the public. Even now at his young age, the paparazzis and press were getting annoying quickly.
“I want to live in a house far away from the city,” he says. “Maybe the suburbs— no that’s too near…a farm! I’ll live in a farmhouse.”
You smile at the thought of Sebastian Vettel, two time Formula 1 world champion, just lounging about in a farm tending to his animals and crops.
“Wouldn’t it get boring? Or lonely? Milking your cows alone?”
He answers you with no delay, “Well I’d want you to be with me of course.”
You thanked whatever higher power was listening at that time that he couldn’t see how your blush formed over the darkness of the night. Regaining your sense of self, you reply, “What makes you think I’d want to go with you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” he asks genuinely. “You could write your books inside while I…I don’t know what type of farm I’ll make, exactly. But I’ll be tending to that and you can write your books with your theoretical dog.”
“It’ll be our theoretical dog, then.”
Sebastian replied with a soft smile, “Ours, then.”
He had settled on bees. Having a bee farmhouse. It wasn’t easy work, it was definitely more complicated than milking a cow like you had said, but it made him happy, and it made him content.
Well, as content as he could be.
You had your first kiss that night, Sebastian recalled. He remembers because even though you didn’t think it, he could see the red blush dusted lightly on your cheeks, a sign he made the right choice leaning in and making his move.
Preparing his dinner for one in his cozy yet lonely farm house, he realizes he could have had this all with you. If he had just been more kind and if you had forgiven him, you could have had all of this together. A life that both of you had always wanted.
2018
“Sebastian, I’m not asking you to retire or something, I’m just asking you to take a break, please,” you beg. He remembers your exasperated voice as clear as day.
“I can’t take a break, Y/N, you don't understand. If I don’t get at least podium in this race, that's it, my career is basically over.”
Scoffing, you replied, “Your career isn’t over just like that, you’ve still got another year with Ferrari for christ’s sake.”
“You wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled, opting to turn away from you and put on his racing gear instead.
He’d been distant the whole season, the tension between the two of you increasing and increasing that finally it just snapped this race weekend. He’d been icing you out, acting like you didn’t exist because he was ‘practicing for the races ahead.’
At first you understood, you were a driver too. You recognized the difficulty of always losing race after race, how after a while it took a toll on your mental wellbeing. So you gave him space.
Then, when that didn’t work, you tried reaching out, helping him. It was the worst mistake of your life. Every time you tried to talk to him, to ask him what was wrong so you could help, he kept pushing you further and further away, acting like you were getting in the way of his work, sometimes even getting angry.
That went on for the whole season, until finally today, on qualifying morning, you snapped and demanded he talk to you.
“What the hell do you mean ‘I wouldn’t get it’? I have the exact same job as you,” you accused. You’d been patient for months and his vagueness was starting to get on your nerves.
Whipping his head around angrily to face you he replied, “You don’t have to reach the same standard as I do. I have to constantly prove I’m the best, and you constantly prove to be a midfielder.”
Oh.
Oh.
That was a low blow, even Sebastian knew that. Your relationship had been teetering on the edge for the past year, but this was a make or break moment, and he knew exactly which one of the two it was going to be.
“So it’s like that,” you decided with a tone of finality. Sebastian wanted to ask for your forgiveness right then and there, to apologize, to make up for the last few months of being an asshole, to beg you not to throw away your years together just like that.
But he knew he was in the wrong, and he was too stubborn and egotistical to apologize.
Sensing the silence from him, you nod with teary eyes you tried so desperately to stop from flowing freely. Sebastian wanted nothing more to wipe them away, to hold you in his arms, but he never could do it.
“This is how you want it to end?” You asked him. It was a genuine question. You were giving him one last choice, one last chance to make up for how he’d been treating you the past year.
He stayed silent.
“Enjoy your fucking career, Vettel.”
He won that race. It was his first win of the season, but he felt like he had lost the championship itself as he stood on that podium, eyes looking for you in the crowd like he usually did, finding you absolutely nowhere.
After your argument he tried to talk to you in the paddocks but you constantly avoided him, the act not being hard when he wasn’t allowed inside your team’s hospitality building nor paddock. That fight was the last sensible conversation with each other you ever had.
You retired the year after that. You moved out quietly from your shared home, and he heard you stayed with Jenson for quite a while. He couldn’t blame you, Jenson had always been kind to you— Sebastian had no place to be jealous.
Hearing the beeping of his oven, Sebastian snaps out of his trip down memory lane to grab his dinner. It was a tray of lasagna, one he was sure he would be eating again tomorrow lunch because of the size of it.
He thinks about how he wouldn’t have to place the excess in a container for tomorrow if he just had someone to share it with. If he could share it with you.
Going through his grocery list at 10 in the morning, Sebastian notices a new store out of the corner of his eye. He’s been to this street countless times to do his grocery down the road— they had a brand of milk that no other nearby grocery had— but he had never seen that store before.
It was a bookshop. A small one compared to the large shops that surrounded it, but it stood out enough to be noticed yet cozy enough to feel inviting. It was a cold morning in Switzerland, and the heater inside just invited him further in until he found himself standing at the doorway, taking in the smell of books and the absolutely gorgeous decor.
He will admit, he hasn’t seen a bookshop like this in quite a while. The second he stepped foot inside he felt the love radiate through it, as if he knew the owner personally and how they had a passion for their store.
All Sebastian could think about, however, was how much you would love this. How you would adore running your fingers through the spine of a second hand book, or how you would pick a fresh new one for him to read and he would do the same for you, just like you both did back then.
He won’t pretend that he never looked for your book when you retired. He knew you weren’t joking about publishing one, he just didn’t know what pen name you chose so he never could find it.
“Looking for something specific?” A voice makes him turn his head around to see the woman behind the register looking at him inquisitively. He realizes that he was just standing in an aisle not really reading or picking up a book.
Sebastian shakes his head, “Not really, just browsing. I was thinking about how a friend of mine would have liked to see this store, it’s right up their alley.”
“Why don’t you invite them then?” A different voice speaks.
…It can’t be.
That voice.
That voice.
No, he was hallucinating, dreaming maybe. Yes, this was a dream. That would be the only explanation why from behind him he heard a voice he missed so dreadfully, one he tried imagining talk to him again some nights, one he watched old videos for, one he—
“Sebastian?”
It was you. He would recognize your voice anywhere. He turns around, and the world seems to slow down as if it suddenly focused on just the both of you. The background blurs and everything is hazy and distorted but you were there. Standing in front of him, actually real. Older than he remembers but not in a negative way, just more mature. More peaceful. More you.
Staring at you in the middle of a bookshop in Switzerland after 5 years, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. What would be right? Would there be words he could tell you that would make you ever forgive him?
“I-” “You-”
You both start at the same time, making you laugh at each other. It was the first time he’s seen you smile since 2016. He used to say he would burn cities to see you smile, and he’s glad he knows now that that feeling hasn’t changed.
“You first,” he says. He wants to hear what you’ll say so he can choose his words better.
“I, uh,” you laugh awkwardly. It was still a beautiful sound to Sebastian. “I was actually slightly expecting to see you here.”
Oh. Well he didn’t expect that. You…you were expecting to see him? Like purposely thinking about him? The thought boggled Sebastian.
Noticing his visible silence, you speak up again. “I co-own this bookstore,” you smile. “I knew you lived around the area so I expected I’d bump into you eventually. It’s not the main thing that I do, but my Swiss friend you just talked to behind the counter wanted to make a bookstore but was low on funds so I decided to help a friend out, you know?”
Oh he knows. You were always so kind when it came to your friends. He remembers, he used to be one of them.
“That’s really nice of you,” Sebastian says. He slaps himself internally for the dumb reply he gives. “You uh, you look great.” Way to fucking go Sebastian. What a great conversation saver.
“Not in a weird way, of course. I mean I would never try to make you feel uncomfortable by saying that. Did you feel uncomfortable? Was it weird? It probably was. I mean I haven’t seen you in so long and that’s the first thing I say it’s so stupid and I could have said something of significance but—”
You stop Sebastian before he rambles on any longer. Holding his fidgeting hand, you chuckle at the sight of the nervous German in front of you. “Relax, Seb. I’m not mad. I’ve moved on.”
Oh.
“You have?” He asks, not thinking before he speaks because he knows he hasn’t. How could he move on from the best thing that ever happened to him and the biggest mistake he ever made?
The question takes you aback, pulling your hand away from his. For a second Sebastian thinks he’s messed up all over again, but you simply reply, “I meant from racing. But I know what you think I mean.”
“Can we catch up? I’ve missed you.” Sebastian hears himself say it before he even realizes the implications of his words.
“Oh.” you say with a pause. It makes Sebastian’s heart sink. Maybe you really have moved on, but in a way that you didn’t want him in your life anymore. He gets that. It looks like you’ve built a nice life for yourself outside of racing. Even if he never gets to be in it. He’s proud of you for being able to move on. “How about we sit down for some coffee first? I know a place near here.”
Oh thank god. Sebastian wasn’t ready to be deprived of you again so quickly.
Walking to the cafe, the air was thick with the tension between the two of you. While your accidental meeting in the library had gone well, the spark of the moment had faded and the reality of the situation had settled in. This was someone Sebastian had deeply wronged, someone he still deeply loved, and there were too many words unsaid there about both.
Sitting down at the window seats— he remembers how you loved sitting there so you could watch the people outside— you flag down a waiter to take both your orders.
“I’ll take a macchiato and— Seb do you still take your coffee black?”
Nodding, he looks out the window with a light blush on his cheeks. The fact that you remembered his— albeit simple— order made him happy and he had to catch himself otherwise he would be smiling like a teenage boy again. It was truly the little things.
“So,” he speaks up, straightening up and looking at you.
“So,” you mimic. “I go first or you go first?”
“My life has been pretty televised before I retired, there’s nothing really surprising in it. You go first.”
You spend the next 30 minutes filling him in on your life, how you avoided the media for the past few years, how you live in a cozy home with your dog, how you still exchange presents with some of the older grid during Christmas (Sebastian admits he got jealous here).
But the most important part was when he heard how you finally wrote that book you always talked about.
“Really? You finally published it?” Sebastian asks. He could see how the smile on your face was genuine, unlike the many times he saw you put on a fake one for the press or the media. It made him happy.
“Yeah, I finally found time after I retired to start it. Surprisingly it’s actually much harder and less peaceful than I thought it’d be.”
“At least it’s not a biographical book,” Seb jokes. The throwback makes you giggle, but it also makes you both acknowledge the elephant in the room. There were still so many things left unsaid, you both didn’t know where to start.
“Y/N back when I said those things, you know the ones, I didn’t mean them.”
Giving him a sad smile you reply, “I know, Seb. But it doesn’t take them back. Besides, that silly argument was just the straw that broke the camel's back, we were on the edge of our relationship for so long, you knew that too.”
“I know, but that was my fault it was on the edge too. I kept pushing you away because of Ferrari and how disappointed I was in my career. I didn’t realize at the time how much it was hurting you until I finally lost you. I know it makes no sense to say it this late when all is said and done, but I am sorry.”
Sebastian’s words stunned you to silence. You knew he never meant pushing you away, despite your last fight he was never intentionally that unkind, it was just racing that pushed him to be like that back then. But hearing the words coming from him hit differently, the way he said the two words you’ve been yearning for for years. I’m Sorry.
It couldn’t make you forget, but it could make you forgive.
“I know you are, Sebby,” you say. The old nickname brings a nostalgic smile on his face. “I’ve forgiven you years ago, just after I retired. I figured I should let go of my ghosts and that’s what I did. Though I won’t lie, your ghost did put up quite a fight giving me tears at night,” you joked. Sebastian could sense the hint of sadness in it.
He wishes he could make it all go away, to fix it just like he used to be able to. But he knows it’s not that easy. Not when the years have separated you both. It’ll be hard getting your trust back to let him into your heart even just as a friend, but goddamn if he wasn’t going to try and fix it.
“Will you ever show me the book?”
The question catches you slightly off guard. “I doubt it. It’s not up your alley anway, historical fiction.”
“Anything you write is up my alley. Maybe you can come over sometime and show it to me,” he says, not realizing the underlying meaning to it.
“Careful, Sebastian,” you say. “Forgiving is easy when you’re given time, but forgetting is harder. Let’s take baby steps.”
Baby steps. He could live with that. To Sebastian it doesn’t matter if it takes days or years to get you back in his life, he’ll let you take your time. You deserve it. And if you choose in the end to walk out of his life again, well, then he deserves it.
You hug each other goodbye when you leave, the hug lasting longer than it should have. He knows he promised baby steps, but when you buried your head into the crook of his neck and tightened your grip around him softly, he couldn’t resist pulling you closer to him and holding you there for a few seconds. He misses this, the closeness of it.
He sends you his address if ever you were in the area again, and you notice how the profile picture he has for you on your number was still the one of you when you were both rookies. It made you happy.
Sebastian didn’t expect anything more to happen, he spent that night contemplating what good deed he must’ve done to bring you back into his life again. Whatever it was, he was grateful he had done it.
The next afternoon as he was reheating the Lasagna— that he ultimately forgot yesterday— in the oven for lunch, he heard his doorbell ring. Opening his door he spots a package on the floor, one that was wrapped with a cute bee themed wrapping paper. It made him chuckle. He expected that whoever or whatever was at the door was you, but this was the next best thing.
Sitting down on his porch chair, he opens the package delicately as if it were fragile. He can feel the outline already, it was a book. Moreover, it was your book. Sebastian couldn’t believe it.
There was a note attached that read, ‘Forgot to tell you yesterday. I missed you too.’
The few words were almost enough to bring him to tears, but he continued and opened the book to scan its contents. The typing Published 2020 stands out, making him realize how long he’s missed out on this.
But what truly catches his attention is the dedication. Smack right in the middle, the words to be seen by everyone, read; For my Sunshine, the amount of words left unsaid will never match the amount of love I still have for you in my heart.
He may not be able to fix his mistake just like that, but Sebastian would wait however long it took for you to love him again, as a friend or as another. As long as his sunshine was in his life again.
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rinniessance · 4 months
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FAITH ༊*·˚ - suguru geto x fem!reader
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suguru geto has been slipping further into darkness every day since amanai riko's death. now with yu haibara's dead body in front of you, you think suguru might sink even deeper. so you offer him a respite between your legs.
꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ hurt/comfort, porn with plot. established relationship, sex as unhealthy coping mechanism, co-dependency, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected sex. canon compliant but you forgive geto all his crimes ♡ // word count: 6k ꒱ ꒰ notes: this is a repost from my old blog .ᐟ.ᐟ this was originally written for a collab and i love this piece so much, i want it on my new blog꒱
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for a second, the world has finally gone silent. suguru doesn’t remember when was the last time it was this quiet inside his head. ever since that day, he’s been haunted by the creeping thoughts of the next time he’s going to fail; plagued by the thoughts of which friend he will have to bury next just because they were lucky (or unlucky) to be born with the gift to be special, to be stronger, to protect. but suguru should’ve known better than to trust his own mind not to play the cruel trick.
clap… clap.. clap. clap.clap.clap
raven-haired sorcerer keeps staring at the wall, paralyzed by the memories, the echoes that still breath down his spine and make the goosebumps dance across his skin. the clapping always follows the silence. same way a kid would pick on a just healed wound, making it bleed with the renewed vigor, suguru’s mind keeps tearing his never-healing soul apart and making it bleed all over again.
the water has gone cold, but geto doesn’t notice. in the end, the coldness that’s been spreading somewhere deep around his heart is harder to ignore. he has not noticed yet, but he’s been slowly losing himself to the darkness brewing inside. and if what they say about the eyes being windows to the soul is true, then suguru’s are sign of no good (you’ve been trying to find the reflection of the suguru you knew but he’s been slipping away further every day).
he knows you’ve been worried; he knows you’ve been asking him to open up and talk; whispering so softly please baby let me help you. and you’re so soft, so sweet, so willing to do anything, he tries to forget the burden he’ll always be carrying by losing himself between your legs. water droplets keep falling down his wet hair, and he thinks he’ll allow his inner demons to be satiated by the thoughts of you. he thinks of your soft lips that he yearns to kiss after a mission because the taste of the strawberry lipstick and green tea mochi you had for desert chases away the taste of vomit from the curses he had to swallow. suguru is sure he will do anything for you. he just has to make sure that you will do anything for him as well.
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yu haibara is seventeen years old when he dies. you think you should be crying but the shock of the news has not worn off yet; you’re not able to comprehend yet that it’s another friend gone. you move your gaze to nanami who is sitting in the corner hiding his face behind the towel. he reminds you awfully of the suguru a year and some ago when he trailed behind satoru who was carrying the body of amanai riko. you wonder if nanami is hiding his eyes on purpose; you wonder if he's been crying and feeling guilty and blaming the villagers for what happened. you wonder because that's what you’ve been through with suguru.
you slowly turn to look at your lover: his under-eye bags have become even darker, his face appeared to be more sunken, and he looks even more disheveled than he’s been looking lately. you’ve been trying to persuade him to talk to you about the demons that are pulling him away from you but he doesn’t want to discuss this – that’s not what he wants you for. but you’re so helplessly in love with him, you’re not sure what you would do if he stops coming back to bury himself to the hilt in your pussy as means of coping. so if he wants to chase his demons away by fucking you like his life depends on it, you will allow him to do it every time.
“it was supposed to be an easy mission to exterminate a second-grade cursed spirit… fuck!” nanami feels bubbling frustration and exhaustion mix together, so he tiredly exhales. “their faith in ubusunagami... that was a local deity. that was a first-grade case.”
suguru sighs. “you need to rest for now, nanami. satoru has taken up your mission.”
“can't we just leave everything up to him alone at this point?”
the question hangs heavy in the air. satoru was becoming the strongest sorcerer, he didn’t need you or suguru accompanying him on missions anymore. you wonder if satoru really didn’t notice the changes happening with suguru, or if he just decided to ignore all the signs. maybe you should’ve brought your concerns to him but if your partner did not want to talk to his best friend about it, then you would not get in the mix.
you gently took geto’s hand and intertwined your fingers.
“i’ll wait for you in your room, my love. come find me when you’re ready.”
this has become a routine for you. whenever you would see suguru start slipping, you would offer him the oasis he seeks in your cunt. so you leave the morgue and let suguru come to you.
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geto wanders around school before he makes his way to you. he thinks about the conversation he had with yu and yuki right before his mission. he thinks about yu’s sweet innocence and naïve desire to protect everything and everyone. what did he say to geto? it feels really good to be able to give my all to something i can actually do. should suguru have said something to him about how easy it is to slip and fall? how fragile human lives are and how unfair it was that the only lives that the non-sorcerer world was not scared of breaking were theirs?
and then he thinks about what yuki asked him. do you hate non-sorcerers, geto-kun? he makes a turn into a garden behind the school contemplating the question. did he really want to fight and reject the part that makes him grow hot with contempt, burning him from the inside? if the failure of the last year’s mission, if the death of yu haibara, if the thought of you bloody and dead in his arms makes his insides run cold, crippling him to the point of total numbness, then the thoughts of letting the weak and the pathetic live while the people closest to him only keep piling up as corpses make his blood boil. maybe that’s exactly what he was looking for.
suguru makes another turn to walk towards the dorm. he lets his thoughts run their own course while he’s trying to concentrate on the only person who matters to him right now. he knows you’re waiting for him in the room, and he cannot wait to slip into a blissful ignorance about everything, even if it’s just for a second. as he expects, you’re waiting for him on his bed, laying on your side facing the wall. he strips of his jacket and lays next to you snaking his arms around your waist and hugging you so close, you think he would never let you go again.
“need you right now, baby,” geto whispers so quietly and then places the first kiss in the crook of your neck. you turn to face him now instead, and gently cup his face into your hands. it always starts like this. suguru would come to you at the ungodly hour of the night, and you accept him with no hesitation.
“tell me what exactly you need, my love,” you respond and then place a careful kiss on his lips. he doesn’t respond, just lets you move your lips to the other parts of his face, pecking everything you can get your lips on.
“need to have you, to be in you.”
“then you have me. you know i’m yours, now and forever.”
with that, suguru pushes you onto your back and then climbs on top. he captures your lips in the kiss that can only be described as desperate: one of his hands comes up behind your neck and he pulls your face even closer to him, while other slowly trails down your body. he’s invading your mouth with his tongue, stealing all your oxygen for himself as if he’s to decide when you can breathe, teeth clashing. it’s messy, it’s violent in its intensity, and it makes the wetness pool between your legs. suguru pushes his knee between your thighs, spreading them further, and breaks the kiss. his gaze follows the outline of your body all the way to your clothes cunt, and the wet stain on your underwear gets him excited, and makes you blush.
“someone’s been waiting for this, huh?” geto teases and takes off your underwear. he gathers the slick dripping out of you onto his long fingers by circling them around your weeping entrance but doesn’t insert them yet.
“can you take me without any prep?” you can see his is frantic to the point of impatience. you can see how ragged his breathing already is, how heavy his eyelids are and how dilated his pupils became. suguru is a drug addict looking for his next fix, and only your pussy can offer him the relief he needs.
“anything you need, you can take from me,” is the only thing you can respond with, and suguru does not need any other confirmations. he shimmers out of his pants and boxers, takes off his shirt and his naked physic makes your breath hitch. you run your fingers on his pectoral muscles and down his pecks. you want to lick geto’s happy trail, all the way down his hard cock and then gag yourself to the point of tears. but that will possibly come later. for now, you just let him get situated between your thighs, grab your legs and bring them over his shoulders.
“you ready, pretty thing?” suguru knows that he doesn’t need to ask as if you will give any other answer but positive, but you still nod your head. geto knows that he is being selfish – there is no foreplay on nights like this, just pure desire and desperation. he will make sure he will pay you back later. now he takes his pulsating dick in his hand, strokes himself twice and lines himself with your needy hole. and when suguru pushes himself inside, he doesn’t give you any time to adjust to his size and buries himself to the hilt. the stretch is painful, you can feel your walls flatter around him trying to accommodate his cock. geto doesn’t give you any time to even think about adjusting when he suddenly pulls away and then bottoms out again. this has been rehearsed so many times that when the tip of his dick kisses your cervix, you forget all about the pain and let out a wanton moan. it’s in the moments like this that dark-haired sorcerer thinks your moans is the only melody that can sooth his troubled mind.
the pace he sets is unforgiving. it’s fast, it’s bruising, it’s almost maddening in the way he pushes himself in and out. and every time his cock leaves your dripping hole, your body just sucks him right back in. suguru’s hair is disheveled, perfect bun he likes to keep his hair in is unkempt and loose hair strands frame his face making him look like pure sin. he’s still holding onto your ankles, turning his head and placing timid kisses there when he pushes inside you especially rough.
“you’re so tight, angel. you’re always so fucking good to me. i’ve molded your cunt to take me so well, huh?” he’s babbling, and you’re drinking up every dirty thing he says to you. “open your mouth.” you do it without a second delay, and take out your tongue too, just like he’s trained you. geto grabs the back of your knees and pushes them onto your body, bringing you into a mating press. this allows him to reach an even deeper angle inside you (you didn’t think it was even possible), and you moan again through your opened mouth. he brings his face close to yours.
“god, you really are ready to take whatever i give you,” geto says through panting breaths and then spits on your tongue. your boyfriend forces your mouth closed, and you swallow without any further instructions. now that suguru is pressed against your chest, he feels so close, that you’re start losing yourself in the warmth his body provides. he speeds up even more, and with the changed position, he now hits the spot inside that makes your whole world spiral. you want to close your eyes but you cannot tear your gaze away from the devil above you – geto’s strands are now stuck to his forehead, sweat is dripping down the sides of his face, and you want to lick him clean. your breathing is shallow as you feel the orgasm starting to build up inside your belly – suguru can feel your walls flatter around him even tighter, and you know it forces him to go over the edge too.
“just like that, baby, it feels so good,” you cry out and suguru kisses you hard and rough. you know it’s because he’s trying not to come so he is distracting himself by your lips; but when you moan again into his mouth like your life depends on the orgasm he is holding off, he knows he cannot edge himself anymore. so he brings thumb to your clit to add the extra stimulation. as soon as you feel his finger on your sensitive nub, you’re grabbing onto the first thing that comes across your hands – suguru’s shoulders, his biceps, the sheet underneath you. the coil inside your tummy snaps, and your orgasm gushes down geto’s cock. your pussy becomes so tight, it’s impossible to hold back anymore so suguru follows right behind you. he keeps fucking you through your orgasm feeling your tight gummy walls suck him dry. your legs are shaking from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and the position you're in, and you try to pull yourself away from being overstimulated.
"baby, 's too much..." you try to let him know but he just kisses you again and keeps circling his thumb on your clit.
"aw, are you saying my girl can't take it anymore?" he hits the gummy spot inside of you again and that almost brings you to tears. you know that it must be almost painful for him as well, his softening dick still throbbing inside you but geto does not seem to care. only once he sees the tears running down the sides of your face that he finally slows down.
you’re trying to catch your breath, slow inhales and exhales to bring yourself back to earth. sorcerer hovers above you, and you can still feel him twitching inside. he brings his gaze to where your bodies connect, the intimacy of vulnerability of this moment making him dizzy. suguru starts pulling out and looks at the mess leaking out of you, the combined releases slowly dripping from your hole and down between your ass cheeks. you whine at the sudden emptiness, and despite the shaking legs, overstimulation and the aftershocks of your first orgasm, you already yearn for another. you flutter your eyelids open and pleadingly look at geto, praying he would know exactly what you need right now. he clearly sees the hunger swimming in your eyes but he loves nothing more but to hear you beg.
“what happened, angel? you’ve been fucked so stupid, you can’t even use your words anymore? i bet that’s true, my dick got you so dumb.” you squirm at his words because no matter how hard you try, his mocking tone makes your pussy tighten around nothing and you whimper. "weren't you the one just crying that you can't take it anymore? dick so good you can't even decide if you want more or not?"
“please sugu…” you ask breathlessly, and suguru chuckles darkly. he doesn’t give in into a simple plea and starts kissing down your neck, making his way in between your boobs and licking the sweat that pooled there. he knows you can do better than this.
“you have to give me more than that, pretty girl. what do you need?” he gathers the dripping cum with his two fingers and pushes them back inside you. at the same time, he takes your nipple into his mouth and gently sucks on it. the combined feeling of his fingers going in and out your throbbing core and tongue leisurely licking and sucking on your hardened nipple makes you quiver with anticipation. “still not talking, huh?”
suguru draws a circle around your nipple and then bites on it, making you gasp. he releases it and then blows on the wet skin and that sends shivers down your spine. the juxtaposition of hot skin and cold air makes you wetter and you can’t take it anymore. you finally give your lover what he’s been waiting for.
“i want you to clean me, sugu.”
“and how do you want me to do it?”
“with your tongue. please please please, i need it so bad, i really really need, please clean me up 'guru,” you say through tearful voice. it’s not good enough of begging, he will have to teach you (again) better later, but geto is also running out of patience. he wants to taste the sweet mess between your legs, and he wants you to fall apart around his tongue again. so he languidly trails kisses between your breasts, on your stomach and all the way down to your cunt while still pumping his fingers in and out of you. he only stops once he’s face to face with your wanting hole.
“so beautiful, my girl is always so beautiful and ready for me,” and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. he kisses the inside of your thighs first, tickling you with the locks that left his manbun. he didn’t slow his fingers once, adding more speed, curling them so he can reach the spot that makes you lose you breath and wonder if you were made to always be in this position, for him only. he finally brings his mouth to your puffy lips and spreads your folds so he can see the clit dying for his attention. he lightly slaps it, which earns a surprised gasp from you, and then finally licks up from your hole to you clit sucking on your sensitive nub.
the whole world could collapse now and both of you would not care. geto groans from the taste he’s been dying to have ever since he walked through the doors, and you’re sure moans that escape your throat will make the devil blush if he wasn't present in the room with you. suguru starts lapping at your clit: he’s fully in control of long languid strokes of his tongue that makes your ears ring. he adds now a third finger into you, and the stretch is almost painful again even if you took him raw not even 10 minutes ago. raven-haired sorcerer can feel your walls tighten around his fingers again so he keeps abusing that gummy spot inside, curling them just at the right angle, while he’s licking up your lower lips and sucking your pearl.
you grab the hair tie that holds his almost non-existent bun and take it out of his hair letting the long locks drape all over your thighs and frame his face. you glance down and you think he looks absolutely mesmerizing like this – eating you out like it's his life line, your hand in his hair massaging his scalp, suguru’s moans vibrating against your clit. you grind on his face, bringing yourself even closer, desperate to get to the top of the orgasm you started climbing again.
“someone’s so needy,” geto chuckles.
“yes, baby, please, i need to come, please let me come again,” you plead with him, and he finally gives you what you want. suguru speeds up his fingers once again, swirling his tongue near your entrance to catch your release and then up the inner lips back to the clit where he keeps sucking on your almost overstimulated bud. you weave your fingers through his hair and tug, just enough to let geto know you’re very close. your breathing becomes shallow and you want to continue looking at your lover performing his magic but the orgasm waves are threatening to drown you, so you close your eyes and let go.
suguru feels your cunt tighten around his fingers and he withdraws them from your hole so he can drink up your juices instead. he is pushing his tongue inside you, tasting your sweet release, and he can swear he can taste his own cum that he pushed back into you before. you moan out his name over and over again, repeating it like mantra with “please don’t stop” and “this feel so so good” sprinkled in between your incoherent babbling. geto is unrelenting and he fucks you with his tongue through your second orgasm, not missing a single drop you have to offer him.
once he can feel you start to relax, he withdraws from your abused pussy to admire his work: the mess of your combined releases and his spit on your cunt glistens in the moonlight peaking through the curtains, and suguru thinks he’s never seen as anything as beautiful as this. he reaches for the phone in his pants and opens up a camera.
“i would submit a photo of your pussy like this to a modern museum of art if only anyone else was worthy enough to look at it,” geto says as he snaps couple of pictures of your spread legs. the blush creeps up your cheeks and you hide behind your hands (suguru thinks it’s cute he can still manage to make you blush). once he’s satisfied with the results, he climbs back on top of you. geto looks at your fucked out face and thinks this is the only thing worth to be alive for right now. so he kisses you deep and hard hoping you can feel all of him in the kiss. you softly cup his face and kiss him back, tasting yourself on his lips.
suguru pushes himself back to sit down on his knees and takes in your naked body. you look up at him with the gaze full of adoration, hunger, longing and ache, and he is falling in love all over again. geto stands up from the bed and walks over to the bathroom to grab the towel, leaving the room for a minute shortly after to grab you a bottle of water you keep in your mini fridge. you whine lightly at the loss of his body near you but you’re not even given time to complain before suguru is back by your side in a record time.
“drink this, angel.”
“thank you, my love.”
“anything for you.”
he brings the cup to your lips and carefully tips it so you’re not choking on the water. once you down the full glass, he spreads your legs and cleans everything by gently swiping away the residual liquids. you let him take care of you in a way that’s comforting to him, turning you and cleaning you like a porcelain doll he’s scared of breaking.
suguru is always so gentle after sex. no matter how hard he fucks you or how overstimulated he may make you at times, the absolute tenderness in the way he treats you after never fails to tug at your heartstrings. once he determines you’re clean enough to go to sleep now, he throws the towel into your laundry basket and lies down besides you. you turn to face him and press a soothing kiss to his lips.
“i love you.”
“i love you too, sugu. now go to sleep, you need to rest.”
and with that, geto throws his arms around your waist, traps your legs with his legs and brings you so close as if he’s scared you will slip away.
sleep tight, princess. i will see you again in a new world.
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“huh?”
“don’t make me repeat myself. suguru killed everyone in the village and…”
“i heard you the first time. that's why i said, "huh?"
you could see satoru was angry and in denial. and you cannot blame him, after all, he didn’t notice (or didn't want to notice) the abyss that was pulling suguru deeper and deeper every day, it’s no wonder he is in denial of what geto has done, what he has been contemplating of doing for the past year. sure, you wouldn’t have guessed he would take things this far but you saw the darkness slowly seeping through the broken crevices of his façade, you knew it was only a matter of time before he snaps. satoru kept saying something about how this cannot be true but his words sound as if they are coming through a vacuum.
your lack of response makes yaga turn to you. you can see his mouth moving but no words can be distinguished. he calls your name, and you try harder to concentrate on the next question.
“can you hear me? did you know about this?”
“are you asking me if i knew suguru would massacre 112 people?” you snap at him. taking a deep breath, you try controlling the bubbling emotions inside. geto has been on a radio silence for a full week now, and you can’t help but feel hurt and betrayed; and deep down you know that you would never be able to leave him, even if you knew about what he was going to do from the very beginning.
“that’s exactly what i’m asking.”
“no, i didn’t know that. i’d think you have more faith in me that just letting my boyfriend to go on a murder spree.” liar, you think to yourself, you’re such a fucking liar. faith does not mean anything to either of you anymore, and if suguru wanted you to open your chest and give him your heart for his amusement, or if he asked you to drench yourself in the blood of the people he murdered, you would do it in a heartbeat. “and before you ask, i don’t know where he is. he’s been ignoring my calls and messages ever since he took that mission.”
both satoru and yaga let out a deep exhale: satoru’s sounds defeated and almost broken (you think he might be trying to hold back tears); yaga’s is resigned and exhausted. no one speaks anymore, and the silent agreement is made to go separate ways for the day.
you don’t know how to feel about this whole situation. you think you feel hurt, betrayed, shocked. and you know that you’re the only person who feels this way not because suguru committed a crime worthy of death penalty but because he didn’t trust you enough to let you know about his plans in the first place. didn’t the past year two of you spent together show him the depth of your loyalty? did all of the nights spent tangled in sheets meant nothing? when you would let him do whatever he wanted to your body because being lost in the feeling of earthly pleasure was the only way he could feel grounded? you wanted to believe that all of that meant more than just him fucking you to oblivion to forget about the pain tearing him apart. should have you done it differently? maybe made him talk, open up, let you see inside his troubled mind? you’ve been trying to call him and message him every day ever since he ghosted you, and today’s discovery just made the pit inside your heart grow even bigger.
you finally reach your dorm room. you drop on your bed as soon as you step inside, clothes be damned, and grab suguru’s sweater he left on your chair, deeply inhaling his scent. you think about “i love you” he told you the last night you saw him a week ago; you think about all the times he kissed you so deeply, it felt like he was trying to carve out a home somewhere between your teeth. you think about his eyes, and the way they glistened with that special spark every time he looked at you. and you wonder if all of the significant memories of you together were only significant to you.
you body and mind feels heavy so you close your eyes and curl yourself into a fetal position, hugging suguru’s sweater even tighter. the tears start pooling in the corners of your eyes, and you don’t remember when was the last time that you cried yourself to sleep.
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4:35pm
im sorry i haven’t said anything
4:35pm
but this was something i needed to do on my own
4:36pm
pls come to this address ill explain everything
4:36pm
[sent location]
suguru keeps staring at his phone screen. ever since he disappeared a week ago, he’s been ignoring your attempts to contact him. he wanted to make sure that the coast is clear, and all of the ties are cut off before he can contact you again. leaving his best friend behind was painful; but geto is not a child, and he understands that him and satoru will never see eye-to-eye on this matter. that’s why he had to say goodbye to him today the way he did. but leaving you behind? unimaginable. so he feels his anxiety bubbling up when he hasn’t received a response back to the messages he sent you 8 hours ago.
he feels a small tug on his sleeve.
“geto-sama?” a small voice is unsure and almost scared. he looks down at the dark-haired girl. mimiko. her big doe eyes glistening with tears and face is covered with bruises that still haven’t faded: his heart breaks at the sight and he is wondering about how long the abuse was going on for before he discovered them in a cage, locked away like animals. the mere thought of that place fills him with burning rage.
“yes?”
“when will we leave this place? nanako says it reminds her of our old house, and it’s scaring her,” mimiko whispers back. and it’s so quiet, it saddens geto again thinking how many times their little voices were never heard.
“we will leave soon, i promise.”
suguru looks out of the window of this abandoned building. he had to take a temporary cover here before he can figure out what happens next. his thoughts drift back to you. he’s wondering if you’ve been interrogated about his whereabouts yet, if they used any techniques on making you talk. he swears if any of the higher-ups got to you before he could figure out how to leave jujutsu high behind, the massacred village will be the least of their worries.
he wonders if he misread your constant acceptance in the past year. he wonders if you’ll come screaming at him too, asking why he did it and that maybe it’s not too late to come back. but what he is scared of the most is to see the fear in your eyes when you see him again: they should be scared of him, but not you, never you.
suguru thinks about the last night you spent together, and the i love yous exchanged in the darkness of the night. he knows he meant it, he’s sure you meant it too, so what is this sinking feeling growing deeper somewhere inside his ribcage? he thinks it’s fear but a different kind this time – he dreamt of building his new world with you by his side so now that he’s on the silent end of the phone, he fears he was wrong, yet again.
but before geto can drown any deeper in the overwhelming feeling of possible loss, he senses your cursed energy. he springs to his feet, and the very next minute, the door to the room where they are now creaks opened.
“suguru?” your voice pierces through the oppressive silence, and geto releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. he crosses the room in three big steps and hugs you so tight, all the air from your lungs is immediately pushed out.
“god, i am so happy you’re here. i was worried you wouldn’t come when you didn’t respond to my messages.”
“baby, i had to get all of your stuff first, didn’t know if you needed anything, and i had to time when i sneak out without leaving any traces, higher-ups are on high alert now and… wait, you were worried i didn’t respond to your messages?” you point an accusatory finger at him. “what about all the messages and calls you ignored from me for the last week? what about the fact that i am finding out about whatever you’ve been doing from yaga out of all people? i thought you left me, i thought…” you stop yourself as your lips start trembling and you bite down on your lower lip to prevent the tears threatening to fall.
suguru looks at you in shock. he didn’t even consider the fact that this could be a sign of him abandoning you. because how could he? after everything you’ve done for him, unconditionally? after everything he's done for you? didn’t he make it clear that you’re stuck with him, for better or for worse, and that he does not intend on letting you go?
“i’m sorry, i should’ve thought about how things looked from your perspective. i am really glad you’re here now, i will never do something like this to you ever again, i promise,” and he cradles your face in his hands so gently, you really wonder if these are the same hands that are capable of murdering 112 people. “i love you, always and forever.”
“i love you too," he softly whispers. "by the way, i want you to meet someone,” he takes your hand in his and leads you further to the middle of the room. you're just now noticing another presence and then you see them: two little girls huddled together on a couch. they move their gaze from suguru to you as if confirming you're safe to approach.
"mimiko, nanako, this is my girlfriend," geto says your name and the girl slowly repeat it back. you squad down to bring yourself to their face level and gently smile.
"it's very nice to meet you, mimiko and nanako," you ruffle their hair, and suguru realizes that that's exactly the same thing that he did to them the first time he saw them. a warm feeling spreads inside his chest at this thought, something he hasn't felt in a while. "i hope we can be good friends soon!"
the girls are still shy and don't say anything back but they don't look as scared anymore. you bring yourself back to your full height and turn to suguru. he responds to your silent question.
"i saved them during the mission i went on last week. they were locked away in the cage, like goddamn animals," you can see the anger babbling up again so you just put your head in his chest and hug him. geto visibly relaxes and kisses the crown of your head.
"you're my new family now, i don't need anyone else," suguru says, and he fully means it. you don't bring up the real family he killed, or the friends he massacred in his village. you don't bring it up because it won't change a thing for you.
suguru cups your face again, leans down and kisses you on the lips like he has never kissed you before, or like he will never have a chance to kiss you again. it knocks the wind out of you, and your knees go weak so suguru needs to hold you upright. and no matter what anyone else might think or say, this feels right, being here enveloped in his arms, pressed against his chest, tasting nicotine on his tongue. you know this is exactly where you belong – in his arms, between his lips, in his heart, always and forever.
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charlie-lec-stories · 3 months
Text
Good enough // CL16 & MV1
Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen
Summary: Max is not always the confident man he looks like.
Warnings: Self-esteem issues, some dark thoughts, talks about eating disorders.
Author’s Note: Men can also suffer from low self-esteem and body insecurities. Rate: +16 (inappropriate language)
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She always slept in the middle and Max was okay with that, because even though he loved to cuddle Charles, he was a living heater, like Max. Y/N was like an ice cube and it was great to have her in the middle, cooling them down. Watching her peaceful face in the morning was also a plus. That was the sight he found that morning, her laying face up, her lips slightly parted, Charles half on top of her, his nose buried on the crook of her neck and his left arm over her protectively, his fingers brushing Max's middle. The Monegasque was snoring softly, the noise muffled by Y/N's collarbones. As always, Charles was shirtless, it was impossible for him to rest well with clothes and it wasn't like the Dutchman or their girl would complain about it. On the contrary, she started progressively to sleep with less clothes on. Max wasn't sure when it happened but she went from loving to trying different PJ's and seeing which one was more comfortable to sleeping in just a tank top and a pair of cotton panties. Again, there were no complaints about that. Max could never complain about seeing them with little to no clothing, they were literally the most beautiful people he had ever met.
He knew that she was perfect since the first time he laid eyes on her, while they were teenagers. He felt his breath itch just looking at her face, and when they became closer and she started hugging him more, he became addicted to the touch of her skin, soft and plush under his fingers. He could remember the first time he saw her in underwear like a core memory, they were still friends and he had never felt so guilty for anything as he felt for his thoughts that night. She spent the night at his house, they both had a race the next day and her parents couldn't take her, so he offered her to stay at his house and go with him the next day. His father was less than pleased with his idea, but agreed anyway. She changed in front of him like it was the most normal thing in the world, he was her best friend and she felt safe with him, the tug of guilt he felt in his heart for looking at her like she was a whole meal still haunted him. But he thought she was breath-taking, every inch of her body was just too perfect to be real. He was seventeen at the time, so his mind went to places that he wasn't proud of, but even if he wasn't sexualizing her all the time now that they were older, he still could say that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Then there was Charles, who Max knew for a fact was the most wanted man in motorsport. People just worshiped his body like it was a whole temple and Max couldn't agree more with those people. He would definitely join a cult about Charles' body. From his cute, messy hair to his toned legs, Charles was a living Greek God and Max thanked Zeus every day for making his boyfriend figuratively allergic to wearing shirts. Summer Charles was his favorite, all hot and bothered, walking around sporting his smallest shorts and needing someone to apply sunscreen on his back three times a day. Max would always volunteer for that. But Spring Charles was also great, always wearing half buttoned shirts, chest showing teasingly. Max's second favorite was Autumn Charles, who liked to work out in compression shirts, leaving him and Y/N looking at his body the whole time they should be training. Winter Charles was less of a show off, but that doesn't mean he didn't serve... There were few sights as beautiful as the Monegasque in winter attire, with his nose reddened and smile on full display. Max could spend hours just looking at Charles sitting in front of the fire, warming up while chatting with Y/N about all of his favorite things.
He watched them both sleep for a few minutes, following the ups and downs of their chests, the covers up to Charles' hips, giving away just a peek of the navy blue panties Y/N wore that time to sleep. He felt lucky, but he also felt terrible about himself. As he got up from the bed, he sighed softly, doing the best he could to suppress the negative thoughts that tried to settle down on his mind. Walking down the hallway and towards the kitchen, he couldn't stop his body and it positioned itself in front of the mirror at the entrance of the living room. He looked at his reflection with a shy gaze, the dark shirt made him look slimmer, or at least he told himself that. The deep breath he took was shaky and when his hands moved to his hips, the hem of it tensed, highlighting a little roll on his lower belly. He looked away disgusted, his hands falling back down by his sides and walked quickly to the kitchen to start breakfast. He focused on his Stroopwafels, he wanted them to be ready before Charles woke up, or else he would complain about eating in the morning and skip breakfast. His boyfriend was a disaster when it came to food, he didn't like many dishes, and the Stroopwafels were one of the few things Charles liked to eat in the morning.
Max thought about skipping breakfast and instead going for a run, burning that roll he saw in the mirror, but he knew that it was not healthy behavior. He didn't like the way he looked, he did feel ugly, but he was aware of the limits between feeling bad about himself and doing risky things to achieve the body he wanted. Still, once in a while, his low self-esteem would entertain the idea of skipping a meal or extending a training session. He didn't resent his partners for being physically perfect, but he did feel like he wasn't good enough for their perfection. He would sometimes look at them, so incredibly good-looking together, and think that he didn't look as good as he should, like he was out of place with their beauty. The fact that they loved him was important to him, he understood that they loved him for his personality and not for his looks, and he wasn't a superficial man, constantly thinking about his or other people's looks, still, he sometimes wondered what they saw in him. When he was making out with them and they felt so into it, he would ask himself once in a while how it was possible that someone like him could turn them on. It was some kind of miracle that a woman who could have any man in the world, who already had Charles fucking Leclerc would want to have sex with him, or al least that's how he felt like.
"Morning, Amor". (Love). He heard Y/N voice as her arms wrapped around him, her cheek pressed against his back. He felt her kissing his shoulder and then playfully bite him. He laughed.
"Morning, Schat. How did you sleep?". He took the last Stroopwafel out of the pan and then turned around to face her.
"Bien, but woke up around 3 am wanting to peet and went back to sleep right away because you both were squeezing me so bad that I couldn't even go to the bathroom". (Good). She pouted and then giggled, making him smirk, loved her giggles. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him, her hands moving to his hair to pull at it a little, he moaned but gathered his composure back quickly.
"No funny business, no time for that". He said against her lips and she huffed. It was a Wednesday and they were all traveling to the USA for the triple-header.
"It won't take too long, I promise". She dragged her hands down his torso, he loved every second of that, until she reached the hem of his shirt and her fingers touched the skin of his lower belly. He grew self conscious fast and then pushed her hands away. She looked at him worried, not for him not wanting to have sex but for him to refuse her touch as if it was burning him. He had those reactions once in a while and it always made her wonder what was wrong, but he never seemed open to talk about it.
"I just don't want us to be late, Schat". He quickly lied and she let it slide. He kissed her again, just to let her know that they were good. They heard Charles' footsteps and the conversation died there.
In Austin, they were gratefully surprised with the fact that they were staying all in the same hotel, which meant that they could share a room all five nights. Charles and Y/N didn't even bother on settling down in their rooms, knowing that they weren't spending a second there, instead, they took their suitcases to Max's room and then plopped down on the bed. Max was still acting weird, he barely let them cuddle him on the plane, didn't ramble about anything and then just went straight to the shower, taking his sweet time there. Charles, even though he had been close to Max for less time, also picked up on his strange behavior. They knew that Max was allowed to have bad days and be moody, but these episodes were different from being moody. He looked sad, like the spark he usually had suddenly lacked power. The two talked about it, wondering what could have happened and how to bring up the subject to Max without scaring him off. The last thing they wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable or pressured to open up about something he wasn't ready. Once he walked out of the bathroom, completely dressed to bed, they made themselves comfortable and drifted off.
"You look stunning today, Y/N". Max heard one of the reporters say while they were all on the media pan. Max suppressed an eye-roll, she always looked great and someone always had to point it out. He was a little jealous, but the fact that he had felt particularly bad about himself the last few days didn't help.
"Thank you". She said with a tight grin, she wasn't a fan of physical compliments, she would rather people calling her a good driver instead. The reporter proceeded with his question about her good Qualifying that afternoon and she then gave him a complete answer with her feedback about the track and the car. He watched her talk, the way her hands moved as she explained something, her lips that did the best they could as she struggled with her pronunciation and how her nose scrunched when she talked about the least things she liked about the track.
"Max". He turned around to look at Charles, the Monegasque discreetly leading him to an empty room when the media pan was over. "Are you alright, babe?".
"Yeah, sure". He tried to play it cool, but the concerned look on Charles' eyes was making it really hard.
"Are you sure? Because you haven't looked fine for a few days now". Max knew what he meant, he knew that Charles was talking about his mood, but Max couldn't help but associate Charles' words to his body."I know I don't look fine, I'll do better". He walked out of the room, leaving Charles even more confused than before.
Austin went terribly for Charles and Y/N, both of them ending up disqualified after the race, the Ferrari driver losing a P6 and the Mercedes a podium. Max had won and still he didn't feel any better, so the mood back in the room wasn't the best. "Couples that get disqualified together, stay together" was the caption that their PR managers decided to use when they posted their joint post about the FIA's decision. Max looked at the picture over and over again, even sad they looked nice. Or maybe it was him that loved them so much that was unable to see a single defect in them. He didn't care, they were perfect in his eyes, and he wasn't good enough, no matter how much he could win. The next stop was Mexico and Max was already in a bad mood to also having to deal with Checo's fans. He got the chance to share his podium with Charles and Y/N there and that made everything a little bit better, but watching their pictures online, the three of them together was painful. And to top it, between Mexico and Brazil, Y/N trended on Twitter when a particularly good picture of her after the race "broke the internet". She was being called the most beautiful woman of motorsport, and it was all too much for Max.
Charles walked inside the room with his spare key, they were both at the same hotel in Brazil and Y/N staying just a block away, to find Max on the bed. His knees were all the way up to his chest and Charles could see that he was crying, thanks to the shaky movement of his back. With soft steps, he walked to the bed and sat down next to Max, placing his hand atop his shoulder and squeezing. The sob that the Dutchman let out broke Charles' heart in a million pieces. He quickly pulled out his phone and sent a short text to his girlfriend, requesting her presence, then he got into bed with Max, pulling him to his chest and letting him cry as much as he needed. Y/N arrived 20 minutes later, having to work her way through some PR duties before she could be free. Max was a lot more calm when she made it there, her two boyfriends resting on the bed, while Charles moved his hands up and down Max's back. The Ferrari driver looked up when he heard her walk in and they shared a look before she sat down at the other side of Max and ran her fingers through his blonde locks. She saw him let out a sigh and then a few more tears fell down his cheeks.
"Amor, what is it?". She spoke as gently as she could, not wanting to startle him. "Please, we want to help, Max".
"You can't. I'm the problem, not you". His voice was hoarse, the crying taking a toll on his throat.
"You're not a problem, Max. What are you saying?". Charles was almost offended at Max's comment, how could he call himself a problem when he was so darn amazing?
"Okay, we're not avoiding this anymore". She changed her tone from sweet to serious. "Both of you, sit up". They followed the order, Max resting his back against the headboard of the bed. "What's up with you?"
"Don't play dumb". Charles warned him after he saw Max was ready to straight up lie to them again. They waited patiently, and Max just looked around the room, feeling self-conscious. Their gazes were too intense and he couldn't take them.
"I've been feeling bad about myself". He whispered it, hoping that they wouldn't ask for him to repeat himself. They didn't.
"About your body?". Y/N placed a hand on his thigh as she asked the question, Max just nodded.
"But why? There's nothing wrong about you, Max". Charles made the comment so nonchalantly that Max almost laughed.
"Everything is wrong with my body!". He laughed bittersweetly as he said that, like he was amused by the fact that they didn't understand.
"Max, you're going to have to elaborate on that, because we can't see anything wrong with you". He could see that she was concerned, it wasn't just the tone of her voice, but also how hard she was pressing her hand against his tight.
"I'm ugly, so ugly. I don't even understand how you don't see it!". Charles was straight up horrified by the comment, Y/N kept a neutral face, she wanted to see where this was leading so she could fix it. "I'm fat and my face is not pretty or anything like that. Clothes don't fit me right and I look terrible in pictures".
"This stupid, you're saying stupid things". Charles couldn't believe what he was hearing and the string of French curses he let out after his comment just proved further that he was not agreeing with Max's perspective of himself. Y/N was more concerned about Max fat-shaming himself, as if gaining weight was something bad or even him getting fatter was true, considering he was a pretty fit guy. They had a long journey of self-love ahead.
"Charlie, you're not helping". She tried to calm him down, but Charles was angry.
"He's saying stupid stuff! How can he say that?!". Max stayed quiet. "Anyone would kill to be you, you're fucking perfect!".
"What?". That took Max by surprise. He had called them perfect for so much time that he felt the term foreign when it was directed towards himself.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Max". He turned to look at Y/N, she moved her hand from his leg to his face, running her thumb over his cheekbone. "We think you're amazing, perfect".
"But why? You're both so good-looking!". He couldn't believe it. "How could you think that of me looking like you guys do?"
"This is stupid". Y/N rolled her eyes.
"Looks like "stupid" is the word of the day". That made Max laugh softly, she smiled and shifted her position on the bed to sit on his lap. "I love your smile, I love it even more when it reaches your eyes because they look even better".
"You make it sound like he's doing it himself, it's easy for his eyes to look great when he has those eyes''. Charles was being actually useful with his angry comebacks.
"I also said that I love his smile".
"He has the whitest, most perfect teeth on Earth, you could turn off the lights and still find him if he smiles". Max smiled at that, looking at the frowning Charles that huffed and kept cursing in French. Y/N grabbed Max's face and made him look at her.
"We love you, Max. Not just the fact that you're an incredible person or a generational talent driving cars. I love looking at you and I love having sex with you". He blushed, she giggled. "I'm not sure where this idea of you being ugly came from, but I can assure you that you're extremely handsome and hot to me".
"Of course he is! Mon Dieu, thinking he's ugly... Simply stupid". (My God).
"He agrees". Max properly laughed this time. She kissed him, pressing herself against him to make him feel her heartbeat. They broke apart after a moment, both needing to breathe. "I know that getting those thoughts out of your head is not easy, but please, if you ever, ever think about yourself like that again, tell us. I promise you, we will prove you wrong".
"Really?".
"Yes, really. We love you, even when you talk stupid".
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Hope you guys like it!! Happy New Year everyone, and have a great 2024.
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starlight-starwrites · 3 months
Text
a dozen tiny suns
astarion x bard!elf!reader
summary: after the battle for baldur's gate, you and astarion have settled into a new routine in your old home. nocturnal life isn't easy, and you come up with a surprise for him to have a little sunlight. wc: 1.4k warnings: oh boy i got fluffy note: written for the BG3 holiday challenge twinkling lights prompt! reader is not described or named, but is an elf bard for context (a little magic for our favorite vampire)
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“Darling, the sun’s down,” you shuffle over to the four-poster bed, flopping on the side with the open curtains. “Astarion, love?”
Darkness has fallen outside, and the few lamps lit in your apartment barely penetrate the canopy you’ve made of your bed. The mass of blankets move slightly at your intrusion, the only sign that Astarion really is in here. You catch sight of light on white hair, and you reach to pull the heavy quilt away.
“Darling, did you hear me? The sun’s gone downnn,” you sing.
He doesn’t open his eyes. His only acknowledgment is a wrinkled nose as he nestles further into the pillow. You stretch, crawling on your stomach to get close enough to press a kiss to his bare shoulder.
The action seems to appease him, his expression a pout instead. “Mmph, it’s much too early for that. Come back to bed.” You ignore him, gently pulling away the blankets before he really wakes up. One eye cracks open, and you’re fixed by his red gaze. “What are you doing? Why are you dressed?”
“It’s time to get up, you’ll waste the night.” You still can’t help but smile at the way his nose wrinkles.
“Night is not for hours.”
“Night, evening,” you wave a hand, “It’s winter, love. The sun sets earlier, so we can get up earlier. Now come on, I want to show you something.”
Astarion usually wasn’t one to laze in bed, often taking advantage of the daylight hours as well as the night. These last few months completely free of the horrors, masters, and tadpoles that haunted you since leaving Baldur’s Gate did wonders for him. His newfound freedom was only limited by the rise of the sun, and even that he rebelled against. The new curtains blanketed your rooms in darkness to accommodate him, but you often caught him pulling them back to let in a patch of light. You half expected to find him one day lying in the sunlight like a cat, if not for the fact he was still very much a vampire.
You poke a finger into his arm. “Did I really tire you out that much this morning? And here I thought you were indomitable—yeeeep!”
He’s fast. One second he’s face down and curled around the pillow, and the next he’s snatching your hand to yank you under him.
“No, no, noooo!” You wiggle, but he’s smart and he knows you. He has you pinned.
“I will smoother you, darling. Don’t doubt me again.”
You pout. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hums, pleased, and starts to get comfortable, his nose to the column of your throat. You shift again. “No, don’t you dare, you have to get up.”
“Why?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
“I hate surprises.”
You laugh, hand coming to weave fingers through his hair and give a little tug. “You love my surprises. It won’t last forever. Now come on.” A second tug and his eye opens again, accompanied by a raised brow. You lean forward to press a kiss to his nose, and just like that, you slip from his grasp.
He grumbles about it, but his complaining has long since become background noise to you. It takes him a minute to rise, pulling apart the curtains on his side of the bed and stumbling out. You wait, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet as he pulls on a robe.
“What is it?” he asks, and though he tries to sound indifferent, you can hear his curiosity.
“Do you really want me to tell you, or would you rather see it for yourself?” you ask as you slowly back to the balcony doors.
“It’s outside?” He acts put-out, but he fastens his robe quickly without hesitating to follow you. “What in the hells are you up to?”
He squints, amused now at your excitement, and when you hold out your arms, his hands take hold of yours like they have a hundred times before.
“Just…come see,” you say softly.
The balcony of your apartments isn’t large—a space for your old chair and table, and now a new lounge right beside them. Overlooking the street, the other new addition balances along the railing: night-blooming flowers grow tall, offering slightly more privacy than you had before.
In between, there was enough space for you to stand with your love. Dance, even, when you could convince him.
It was there you had arranged your little surprise, smooth rope running above your heads. It had taken longer than you wanted to admit, fastening each one from roof to roof, making sure that they would hold. Almost as long as it took to create the enchantment that holds Astarion’s attention now.
You smile at him even though his gaze is far from you. You step backwards slowly, pulling him along. His wide eyes dart above, taking it in, the hand you hold stretched in front of him. You like the way his fangs poke out with the gape of his mouth. You love the way you seem to have stolen all words from him.
Winter night air nips at your skin, but between watching him and the faint heat radiating from your enchantment, you barely notice.
The orbs had fit perfectly in the palm of your hand as you whispered your incantations, and now they hung like a dozen tiny suns above your heads.
The warm glow from the light was meant to mimic the sun itself, albeit in a much smaller and less powerful form. You let Astarion’s hand slip from yours as he turned to face each of them, let him wonder at the lights that shone on his bed-tousled hair.
“You did this?” There’s awe in his voice, though it’s careful. Perhaps not quite believing, not quite willing to reveal himself. The red of his eyes seems softer, almost orange in the light, and he looks over your decoration once more before his gaze falls to you.
You nod, smile hopeful. “I had help,” you admit, “I wanted to make sure that the spell would cause no damage—” you gesture to Astarion, “for obvious reasons. It’s meant to mimic Daylight, but in truth the incantation is closer to what I do for Dancing Lights. Just…obviously not dancing,” you laugh, “the light moves within, I don’t know, a little shield?”
It’s you who looks away this time, eyes up as you call to one of the orbs. It drifts down, and you cup it in your hands, holding it between you and Astarion. It warms your skin, brighter now that it’s so close. You have to look away.
You find him staring at you.
His hands brush over yours as he takes a step closer, the light held within your palms, your hands held within his.
He’s beautiful.
It reminds you of all the little moments on your adventures, ones that didn’t seem so significant at the time. You remember how he stood in the sun, that morning after in the woods. You remember how he laughed in camp, faced tilted up to the bright sky as you teased him over breakfast. You remember how he stared in wonder at the colorful streets of Baldur’s Gate, both weirdly relieved to be home.
“I know you miss the sun.”
His hands tighten around yours, and you watch his face as he takes hold of the orb. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t wince, doesn’t burn. His brows raise, eyes big as he looks again from the warm light he holds to you.
“I…thank you.”
The rays from the enchantment seem stronger somehow, blazing light between strands of his hair, clearing all shadows from his face. Your other tiny suns still above you act like a halo around him.
You could almost believe the two of you stood under the real sun.
You open your mouth to respond, to wave away the gift, tell him he deserves more, deserves better. To remind him that as long as you’re together, you’ll take care of him. That you can still find another solution.
Instead, Astarion drops the orb. Though neither of you look to it, it stays floating in the space between your chests. His hands, no longer cold, come to cup your face, and his fingers trail up to the tips of your ears. You find yourself mirroring his movements, his cheeks in your palms, the edge of his pink ears under your fingertips.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
He kisses you.
And it’s warm, and it’s bright, and it feels like sunlight.
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ponderingmoonlight · 2 months
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Sukuna comforting you after a breakup
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Pairing: Sukuna x reader
Word Count: 627
Notes: I don't know who needs to read this but somehow I needed to write it inspired by that edit I saw on Instagram a few days ago
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Imagine Sukuna laying his eyes on your puny figure sitting on the completely destroyed sidewalk while you cry your heart out in the middle of Shibuya.
“Why the hell are you sitting there crying like a baby?”
“Leave me alone”, you mutter into your hands.
He furrows his eyebrows, body drawing closer to you. Did those words really leave your mouth? Nobody ever dares to talk to him like that. Especially not when you're all alone out here with Gojo being sealed.
“Don’t you know who I am, stupid girl?”
“I don’t give a damn about who you are. Just leave”, you bark at him.
Why? Why on earth did it end like this? You really thought you could make it, that your relationship can be saved if you put the work in it, that you’ll be able to change yourself. But then this call came in, only minutes before you arrived in Shibuya.
“It’s over, (y/n).”
It’s over. How is it supposed to be over when it didn’t even start yet? How is it supposed to be over when your heart still aches for the tender touch of your love, for the smile that haunts you in your dreams, for this one person alone? A new wave of tears swells up your puffy eyes and takes your sight, body still numb in agony. This can’t be true. It shouldn’t have ended like this.
Your heart sinks through your shaky fingertips onto the floor, bleeds out when reality hits you like a wall.
But it definitely is over.
“You’re lucky I’m having a good day.”
His voice is suddenly next to you, forces your eyes to dart up. This is Yuji. No…Just one look into his blank eyes is enough for you to realize that Sukuna himself is sitting next to you, nipping on a coke as if he isn’t the king of curses.
You should be scared. Fuck, you should scream in horror and try to run away. But instead, you just stare at him blankly. Does it even matter what happens to you anymore?
“What is it?”
“What is what?”, you try to avoid his question.
Oh god, as if it isn’t bad enough that you’re sitting here like an idiot while crying your heart out.
“What is all of this about?”
You swallow hard. There is no way out of this, no chance to escape the piercing gaze of his. You will have to tell him the truth.
“I’ve got dumped today”, you mutter.
“Dumped”, he repeats dryly.
“Dumped.”
“And that’s what you’re crying about? Some random guy?”
“It wasn’t just a random guy”, you bite back in a desperate attempt to defend yourself.
No, more like the one you imagined your future with, the one you wanted to adopt a dog or cat with, the one who was supposed to stay. But now all of this is gone in the wind. Your past, your present, your future. Everything went black.
“You know what makes me so damn strong?”
What? You blink away your tears, confusion written on your face. What on earth is he talking about?
“Because you killed countless people, are older than dinosaurs…-“
“Because I never let a love story distract me from my own strength.”
“What are you talking about?”, you huff in response, shaking your head in sheer disbelief.
What is that supposed to mean? You’re not Ryomen Sukuna, you aren’t a special grade sorcerer, you are…A no one, not even able to keep your relationship up. Fuck, you should have worked on yourself like you've promised over and over, shouldn't have started fights over things that wouldn't have changed anyway. You...You are the problem.
“Shouldn’t you be strong on your own as well?”
You have to blink a few times, mind trying to process the meaning of his words. Sukuna throws away the empty cup of coke and gets up, casually straightening his clothes before yanking your chin upwards, forcing you to stare straight into his red eyes.
“You don’t need anyone. Now get your puny self up and stop giving other people that power over you. If I see you crying over that relationship again, I’ll kill you right on the spot. Got it?”
Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest, hands shaking by the sheer force of his words. Why does he have to be so damn right? Why…why do you suddenly feel better?
“Got it”, you breathe out, clenching your trembling fingers into a tight fist.
Yeah, you got it.
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Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazini @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru
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bad268 · 5 months
Note
Hey. I love your blog. It's amazing. Is it possible for you to write about actress reader x colby brock. Like they are each others favorite and Sam and colby invite her to one of their investigations. Like in one of her interviews found out that their her favorite YouTubers and colby might ask her on a date?
Thank you so much 💗
Tweets (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)
Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co.
Requested: Clearly (I had a little too much fun with this one lol)
Warnings: none.
Pronouns: First person (I/me)
W.C. 1087
Summary: An unearthed tweet leads to shocking revelations (with a best friend's intervention).
As always, my requests are OPEN
MASTERLIST // HITLIST
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~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)
It all started with a resurfaced tweet from 2015…
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I can’t say it was a lie, but it was before my big break, and I didn't have a manager running my social media accounts 24/7. I was just a normal teenager on Vine with time to kill. And now, I thought it was coming back to haunt me, pun intended.
That was until I received a DM from Colby himself asking me to be a part of their yearly tradition, Hell Week. At first, I was starstruck, but I would have been crazy to decline.
So that’s where we are now: preparing for the Conjuring House. A place of extremes. A place I told myself I would never go to because of how insane it is, yet here I am. And, of course, it’s going to be for a week. 
I was invited to Sam and Colby’s place to go over the specifics of the trip. I had just finished filming my latest movie, which was coincidentally being filmed in Las Vegas, so as soon as my scenes were wrapped up, I set off for their house.
By the time I got there, everyone else who was invited was already there. At least, I assumed with the number of cars in the driveway. I was still in stage make-up, but thankfully, I had changed into something more comfortable before I left the set. I grabbed my backpack before jumping out of my car, locking it, and walking up to the door, ringing the doorbell.
Almost immediately, the door is being opened, and I am face to face with Colby. After a beat of us just staring, speechless, at each other, I cleared my throat. I chuckled nervously before saying, “Hi, apologies for being late. Filming ran a little longer than I originally planned. I hope I didn’t hold you all up too long.”
“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he dismissed quickly as he stepped aside and ushered me inside. “Come in, and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. You’re staying and going with Sam, Seth, and me to Rhode Island, right?”
“If that’s still alright with you guys,” I replied, walking in step with Colby up the stairs. “I don’t want to impose on your personal spaces. I can go home, just say the word.”
“I would never kick you out,” he laughed, leading me down the hall and stopping just before the end. “Here is your room. There is a bathroom attached. It’s right next to the closet, and if you need anything, my room is right there.” He paused as he pointed to the room at the very end of the hall. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need anything, let me know.”
“I’ll feel bad if it’s the middle of the night, but I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I replied as I walked in to set my bag down on the vanity. “I’m just going to take my make-up off and meet you guys downstairs if that’s alright.”
“No problem,” he said, “We’ll be in the living room and we’ll either order food later or go out. We’ll see how everyone feels.”
“Ok, cool, thank you!” I said enthusiastically as he left down the hall. I closed the door over as I walked deeper into the room. I grabbed out my micellar water, cotton pads, and hydrater before walking into the ensuite to clean my face. As I set them on the counter, I noticed a piece of paper.
It was a printed screenshot of Twitter. A specific tweet from Colby in 2016 read, “Give me a chance y/n.” The back of the paper had its own handwritten note.
“You have been Colby’s celebrity crush for years. I know you posted a tweet in 2015 asking if he was single, and I don’t know if it was a joke or not. I didn’t show him the tweet, but I can say he’s single now if that tweet is still true. Please just get him to shut up. -Sam”
I chuckled at the note before quickly cleaning my face to head downstairs. Everyone was sitting on the couch or on the floor facing the TV. Everyone except Colby. I glanced around the room, trying to find him, only to see him standing in the kitchen. He was looking through the fridge, so I walked up behind him.
“Can you hand me a water?” I asked, startling him in the process. He jumped up straight, sucking in a quick breath as he snapped around to look at me. “Did I scare you or is that residual energy from the Conjuring House?”
“No, I just…” he trailed off for a second. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting you down here just yet.”
“Kinda like how you didn’t expect me to see this?” I teased as I pulled the paper out from behind my back. Colby’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. He stammered, trying to come up with a reason behind it, but he could not get a cohesive thought out. “Don’t worry. I’d give you a chance.”
Colby stopped entirely. I could see the gears turning in his mind before he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, immediately meeting mine as he reached out to take the paper from my hands, setting it on the counter. He held my hands in his as he closed the distance between us. 
“Y/n, will you go out with me?” Colby whispered as he bit his lip in nervousness.
“Of course, I will,” I whispered back as a smile spread across both of our faces. 
“How about after this meeting we get out of here and do mini golf and dinner?” He offered, leaning his head down to rest our foreheads together.
“I will take you down,” I laughed as I leaned more into his body. “Truth be told, I’m great at mini golf.”
“Okay, lovebirds, we get it,” Sam interrupted from the living room. “We get it.”
“Shush, Sam,” I quipped back as I snapped my head to look at the group on the couch, still holding Colby’s hands. “You’re the one that left the note in my bathroom.”
“Wait, there’s a note?!” Colby shouted as he immediately let go of one of my hands to flip the paper over, reading through the note. “Sam, I told you this in confidence!”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! For legal reasons, I am required to state that I did NOT take the picture. I got it off Pinterest or Google. Please like it and/or reblog. If you want more content, follow, or send requests. You can add this account (made for content made by me), my ship/master blog, @ship268, or my side blog, @thing268, where I share other writers’ work. Also, you can follow my Wattpad or AO3. Both of which are also linked in my master post (in my bio). That’s all for now, Lads. Thanks for attending the Academy.
~BAD268<3
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meidiary · 6 months
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( 📁 ) THINGS THEY DO TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU PT. 2
synopsis: luffy realizes he does love you (aka the happy ending you deserved 🤧)
character: luffy
warning: angst to comfort/fluff, nickname
mei's note: the part 2 of this prequel, idk what happened in the prequel tbh, the angst just suddenly appeared 😔.. hope you enjoy <3
tag list!: @ahseyy @natalieisfreeziing @rotin0 @entr4p3 @atanukileaf @muichirouswifeandhusband @dashcrashbash @constawrites @maisieisbae @kittekat420 @matronofthevoid @miamorloves @idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames @aannsa @dohkyu @alicee-carter @wanderer-is-love @finnlikesyourmom77
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he thought he'd feel better. he thought he'd be relieved. relieved from your constant needs of love and affection, relieved from the facade he'd been putting up to minimize the damage you'd take on when he'd finally break it off between you two. he deluded himself into thinking he did the right thing for you and him. his excuse for breaking you? he lost the need for you. he lost the sparkles in his eyes whenever he'd see you smile his way. and so, he thought it was for the best to do what he did.
but if it were for the best, then why? why is his heart aching the second he sees you, the morning after he unofficially broke it off with you, with eyebags underneath your eyes and slightly swollen cheeks from all your crying? why does he feel the sudden need to embrace you in his arms and nuzzle his face in the warmth of your neck? why is the memory of you playing with his fingers, while the two of you shiver on deck with a blanket wrapped around you, haunting his mind? is it normal for him to want to hold you and tell that you he still loves you, that he was wrong for every pushing you away from him, that he wants to ramble on and on to you about all the little things he adores about you? the little things ranging from the soft smile you always present to others even if you're upset, to how you always take on the role of waking everyone up in the morning for breakfast or when you slightly tilt your head to the side whenever you get confused, usually to the right, or how you routinely help sanji out with the meals he makes, hoping to lift some pressure off his shoulders.
which, all of a sudden, really bothers luffy. the way you're standing way too close to the blonde cook, and how he rests his hand on your shoulder, asking you what's wrong, is really starting to irritate him. have you moved on from him so easily, so quickly? was what you two had so negligible? just then, he realized how ironic he was being. because he was the one that left you shaking and sobbing, he was the one that broke you down and didn't even bother to pick you back up, he was the one that took hurt you, yet here he was eyeing sanji like he took you away from luffy.
"darling, you look a little tired. are you sure you're up for helping me with breakfast?" sanji questions, worried about your state. "i'm fine, sanji. thanks for asking, though.." you send him a tired smile. each time you blink, you keep your eyes closed a little longer than before, resulting from you staying up all night crying into your pillow. sanji immediately notices and swiftly, but carefully, takes the knife in your hands away from you before you accidentally chop your fingers off. "that's enough helping out of you today." with that he picks you up, bridal style, and walks you out of the kitchen. "wha- sanji! what're you doing?" you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. "you're going to take a long, nice, nap, sweetheart."
he brings you to your shared bedroom with nami before telling you to call him if you need anything. all this not being missed by luffy, as he's glued his eyes on you the minute he saw you. your strawhat captain waited patiently for sanji to, finally, leave your room before he made his way to you.
"hey-" luffy started, for the first time ever being self-conscious about how to start a conversation with you. he sat on the end of your bed, waiting for something better to come out of his mouth, or out of yours.. to no avail. "talk to me.." he stammered, desperate for a comment from you. you sit up straight in your bed, pulling your knees up for you to rest your chin on. "what do you want me to say?" you voiced, barely louder than a whisper. you feel nothing by seeing him sitting by your feet, or at least, you can't express what you're feeling as a result of all your emotions and feelings being cried out of your body, last night. "anything- just, talk to me.. please?"
you let out a small sigh before leaning against the headboard of your bed. "if i had the energy to, i'd have slapped you ten times by now." you disclose, rolling your eyes at the black-haired guy scooting closer to you. he made it to your pulled up knees, leaning on the side of your leg. he was waiting for you to continue, looking at you patiently. "and if i could, i'd throw you off the ship, just to see you suffer a little bit before zoro or sanji save you.." your eyes start to get watery as you try your hardest not to shed one more tear in front of him. "if i could, i would burn that straw hat of yours so you'd feel a little of what i was feeling all this time!" you were surprised, you thought you had cried out all of your tears but here you were, waterstreams flowing ou to your eyes. "and you know what sucks the most? i could never do those things to you because i care way too fucking much about someone that doesn't about me!"
his heart clenched when hearing those words come out of your mouth. seeing you crying because of him, yet again. normally, this would be the moment he walks out to clear his head. but he can't, not now. luffy realized during the time he was "acting" like he cared for you, loved you, adored you, he fell for you. he didn't mean to, he didn't, and we would've never realized it, but here he was, his arms wrapped around you, your face placed on his chest resulting in his shirt soaking in your tears, his hand on your waist another on the back of your head as your grip on his tear-soaked t-shirt slowly loosens. for what felt like the first time, you knew he cared, he wanted to be there with you, he needed you as much as you needed him.
"you better not walk out anymore, luf'.." you mumble, melting in his embrace. "i won't, you've got me for good now, my sunshine. for good.." he smiles, finally feeling at peace, with you, his love.
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mei's note: SO. hope this was a good happy ending 🤧 !! mwuah, love you &lt;3
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tetzoro · 1 month
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ENDLESS LOVE — ༉‧₊˚.
ft. kuroo tetsuro !
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after a steamy night with kuroo, he reflects on how he feels about you. aka the first time you tell each other ‘i love you.’
꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : established relationship, pillow talk, takes place after sex but no smut, tooth rotting fluff — WC : 1k
꒰ NOTES ꒱ : in case you can’t tell, i love him >_< happy valentine’s day tetsu ᰔ dividers by @/cafekitsune
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.゚
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“how do you feel when you’re with me?” you ask, hope filling your eyes as your body is still coming down from the high he gave you only moments ago.
kuroo rolls onto his stomach beside you as he ponders the question for a second.
it’s a good question, one that he has to mull around in his mind a few times. the problem is, the answer isn’t as simple, at least not the one he wants to give you.
because how does he describe how he feels when he’s biting into the sweetest strawberry for the first time, a burst of flavor rushing into his mouth that reminds him of the fondest summer days. the ones he’d spend chasing kenma around with a volleyball, scrapped kneecaps and uncontrollable laughter — endless nights of cherished memories and wanting to stay out long after the sun had set.
or how does he feel when he gets into the shower and feels the warmth of the water soak deep into his bones, washing away all of his negative emotions that flooded his mind — body becoming cleansed after a long, hard day of work. the feeling of coming home and seeking comfort, finding shelter and sanctuary between the slippery tile and the familiar scent of the soap he’s used for years.
or maybe it’s how he feels when he catches a shooting star racing across the clear night sky, making its presence known and allowing the watcher to make its wish — the kind of luck that doesn’t just happen to everyone, a rarity that few get chosen for but here it is unfolding before his very eyes.
those experiences don’t have words to define them, at least not to do them enough justice. they’re just feelings that bubble up inside of him and demand to be savored. it’s the exact same way with you. an entity that mere words couldn’t describe. but he’d try, for you.
“i feel —” he pauses, finger trailing along your jaw. the look in your eye tells him that he’s got your undivided attention, hanging on to every word as you prepare to gauge his response. so he figures he’ll bare it all. “one with the world when i’m with you. like i’m in the exact place i need to be in. i think about how lucky i am. i feel at home.”
you open and close your mouth like a fish and kuroo has to hold himself back from kissing you. the ghost of your lips haunt him for every moment they aren’t on his, never quite getting his fill of you. but he’ll be patient. for now.
“oh.” is all you say, biting your lip to hide that beautiful smile of yours.
“yeah, oh.” he laughs, his finger tucking under your chin and bringing you in for the kiss he’s been waiting for, yearning for, craving.
for a moment, he lets himself savor it, the way your soft lips glide over his, tongue poking out to meet his in an embrace. kuroo thinks he could kiss you forever and it would still never be enough.
kuroo pulls apart, amber eyes meeting yours, naked bodies still pressed up against each other, breathing in sync with one another, heart beating as one.
his finger trailed from your chin, down your neck, into the pools of your collarbones, drinking in every inch of your body. something stirred within him, his mouth having a mind of its own as he replaces his fingers with his tongue.
as kuroo makes his way across your collarbones and over the curve of your shoulder, his tongue turns into lips that press against your skin — soft as rose petals as they make their way down your arm.
every mole, every freckle is adjourned with his lips, kissing each and every mark, covering it with his saliva so a piece of him lays upon you, imbedding himself into your skin.
once he gets to your hands, his eyes find yours again, gently kissing each finger tip before he uses your palm to cradle his own face.
“why do you ask?” kuroo slightly hovers over you now, other elbow holding him up to keep his weight off of you as he kissed his way back into your personal space. like a cat, he tilts his head to the side, leaning into your touch as he waits for your answer.
“well i-“ you pause, eyes averting his sharp gaze. he doesn’t push, doesn’t force you to look back at him. “i asked because…”
“because?” his cheshire cat smile lacing his lips, ready to tease you for whatever answer you throw at him.
“because i love you, tetsu.”
those three words strike him right in the heart, cupid firing off a million arrows a second, cracking open his ribcage and letting his heart spill down into your awaiting hands.
to love and to be loved in return was something he pushed down for a long time, opting to focus on the more practical things in life — school, sports, his career.
but somewhere along the way you popped into his life, quite seamlessly he might add. he realized he loved you long ago but put those feelings on hold because how could someone like you ever feel that for him?
but you do. and nothing has ever sparked a greater joy in his heart, it’s beat thumping so loudly it drowns the rest of the world away, leaving you and him in a place to call your own. a place of belonging, a place full of endless love.
it courses through his body, warmth spreading to every nerve, synapses firing off with pure joy, so much that he almost forgets to repeat it back, the eager look on your face anticipating his reaction.
but you see it in his eyes, in the way they light up like a man who just got everything he’s ever wanted. his soul set aflame as he moves, opting to take your cheek into his palm instead, faces so close together you share the same breath.
“and i love you.” he whispers back, forgoing the ‘too’. for it’s not just a response to you, the word itself leaves a bitter taste in his mouth as it cheapens the value of his words. no, it’s his own declaration to set in stone that he loves you just as you love him — the way it should be and the way it will always be.
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thank you for reading ᰔ
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jasmines-library · 2 months
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Hi love <3!
I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with writing something with the bat-family finding out that the reader has like, the abilities to transfer injuries to themselves.
Like, one of them is hurt and reader just rips their gloves off mid mission and drops to their side, transferring the injury to themself. Bonus points if they automatically transfer some psychological trauma as well? And maybe reader avoiding talking about it and stuff, the family finally seeing the countless scars that reader got because of their power.
(This is has been stuck in my head for forever and I’ve never seen anyone write the bat-family as good as you do, so <3)
Heal
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Note: I've literally wanted to write something like this for ages! thank you for requesting ❤️ also tumblr was throwing a tantrum and not letting me put the image I wanted as a header so you get a GIF instead :(
Warnings: Blood, Injury, Scars.
Word count: 1.7k
⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤
“Robin!”
The scream ripped itself from your throat as you saw him drop to the ground. The crook stood over him, removing the dagger that dripped with crimson red from where he had plunged it into Damians thigh. You practically launched yourself across the street as he fled, dropping to his side. He clutched feebly at the wound, eyes screwed up in pain. Your hand hovered over the wound as he cried out in pain gawping at the open wound. Blood gushed from the deep wound staining the concrete.
“Hold on Robin, you’re gonna be fine.” you told him as you tore off your gloves and discarded them on the ground. 
Then, pressing your hand firmly over the wound and wincing at his shout of discomfort, you began to heal the wound. It was a strange sensation that no matter how many times you felt, you never seemed to get used to. The tingling ran up your arms but quickly replaced by an agonising burn as Damian’s wound began to heal on his skin and began to appear beneath your thigh beneath your suit. You bit your lip to hold back the cry as you watched the gaping wound close leaving behind nothing but shiny new skin and another hole in his suit for Alfred to patch up.
Damian pushed himself up onto his forearms to regain his composure when he felt the pain dissipate from his body. Around you, the rest of the vigilantes were still battling the criminals who seemed to be flanking in from every possible angle. You helped him to his feet, asking if he was alright as you pulled on your gloves. He gave you a brief nod of thanks before dashing off with his katana in hand to help his family. You staggered behind him trying to hide the limp that you had developed from the wound. You could already feel it healing; one of the many perks of your abilities, but it still hurt like a bitch. But you pressed forward anyway, gripping your weapon tightly to help with the fight.
You had had much worse. Much much worse. Like that one time that Joker had captured Tim…you took all of his injuries. But the thing is, with injuries come memories. Each cell carries its own story. And every time you take on a wound, you take on some of the trauma that comes with it. It's not your own, but it feels so real. The images play inside your head on loop like a movie often cropping up at the worst times. The worst time was when Jason died. Although when he returned he was physically healed, he was still struggling; scarred by the memories that haunted him. So, when he started recklessly patrolling and you had offered to heal him, you took away as much of it as you could. 
Sometimes it was the memories that hurt more than the actual wounds themselves. To see and feel what they had been through broke you completely. The torment that Jason had been through that you had seen was something you couldn’t even muster up the words to describe. You couldn’t imagine what he went through and you would never be able to heal him completely, but you were glad you could help him as much as you could. Glad you could take away any of their pain even if it meant that you had to feel it for them. 
They didn’t know this. You had kept it somewhat hidden from them. The vigilantes knew you could heal wounds, but they didn’t know that you took on the injury. And you wanted to keep it that way because you knew that if they found out they would just stop you from doing it and you would be left feeling useless on the sidelines. 
Nightwing dropped down beside you, noting your slight limp as you fought against the criminals. They seemed to be thinning out now with the five of you fighting them. They either fled or dropped to the ground like flies.
“You alright?” He asked, swinging a right hook and sending a guy wielding a crowbar. You winced at the sight of it, hit with Jasons memories again.  
“Fine.” You grunted out as you blocked another oncomer. 
“You sure? You’re favouring your left side.” 
God damn you, Grayson. 
“Fine. Just took a hit is all but it’ll heal quickly. You know me.”
He eyed you uncertainly. He knew you were lying but he dismissed it. Dick had always had a suspicion that more happened to you than you let on but he had never pressed you to talk about it. Though, he was going to find out much sooner than you had hoped.
~
You stared at the scab on your thigh in the mirror; it would soon become a new addition to the tapestry of scars that covered your body. It was ragged, torn and an ugly reminder of the blade that stuck out of the young Wayne’s leg. Some of the scars that marred up your smooth skin were yours, though most of them once belonged to the boys. 
The scars flecked almost every inch of your body, all varying in size and shape. Some were small and round, others long and jagged and some in between. And though the scars saved your boys, you couldn’t sometimes help but wish that you weren’t left with them. Sometimes, it all became too much. For example when you healed a wound that had been forced upon them in such a brutal way that you would lie awake for hours with your eyes squeezed shut tight as you curled up on your bed waiting for the haunting memories to pass. Although your abilities meant that you healed quicker, sometimes you were still left managing the wound for days as it healed whilst still trying to hide it from the boys. You suffered in silence, often pondering if you should just tell them… but you never did. And it was worth it because seeing them okay put a smile on your face. 
You didn’t like to talk much about your abilities and how they worked, no matter how much they pressed you. Everytime the topic was brought up you would go quiet, or quickly change the subject, trying not to let the feelings resurface. You buried them deep to keep your secret.
“You okay, kid?” Jason frowned as you walked into the library, poorly disguising the last of your limp. He was lounging on one of the couches as he delved into one of Bruce’s many hardbacks. 
“Yeah I’m fine.” you dismissed, running your finger over the spines as you scanned the shelf for something to read to try and give yourself something to do for a few hours while your leg continued to heal. 
“You said that earlier.” Dick poked his head around the door, noting the way you tilted most of your weight onto your left foot as you stood on your toes to grab a book. “Your leg still bothering you?”
“A little, but it’s healing.” You shrugged, taking your book over to the couch and settling beside Jason. 
The eldest Wayne frowned, forcing wrinkles onto his forehead. “Shouldn’t a hit have healed by now?”
You cursed mentally. “It was a nasty hit.”
“You know, thinking about it didn’t Damian take a knife to the thigh?” Jason asked. 
“Yes.” Damian appeared in the doorway with Tim. “Y/N healed me though.”
“Strange.” Dick noted, tilting his head to look at you. The four of them had had a suspicion for a little while that something was going on. The way you avoided the topic was like having a sign waving above your head. 
“... it’s just a coincidence.”
“Just like the time you injured your arm training after healing my broken one?” Tim had you stuck. 
You bit your lip in the silence of the room. 
“Fine. Maybe I haven’t been totally honest with you all.”
Jason sat up and leaned forwards in his seat “Go on.”
You took a deep breath, preparing for their onslaught as you revealed the truth. “When I heal a wound, it doesn’t just…vanish.” The four of them watched you intently and you could feel a sheen of sweat try to break out across your forehead. “It transfers to me instead.”
Damian stared at you agape “But…”
“You’ve healed us so many times.” Dick said. “That's gotta be…”
Tugging your hoodie over your head, you revealed the scars to them for the first time. Tim had to hold back his shock. 
“Oh y/n/n…” The vigilantes all looked at the countless scars that covered your skin. 
“They’re not all yours.” You tried to lighten the mood, albeit it seemed to have little effect. 
“How have we been letting you do this? We should have know-”
“Stop.” You shut Tim down. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. Healing you is… special. Making sure that you guys get to live another day is more important to me than anything.”
“But you’re hurting yourself…” Damian said shyly, feeling incredibly guilty.
“It doesn’t hurt bad. My accelerated healing means I can get rid of wounds that would take weeks for you to heal in a number of days. Sometimes hours. I like helping you.”
The boys narrowed their eyes at you. They were sceptical however they could see the truth behind it. You were selfless; always giving to others in need. They didn’t like that you were being hurt because of their recklessness, and they were angry with themselves that you felt you couldn’t tell them the truth, but they could see the reasoning behind it.
“Besides” You added. “I think the scars are pretty cool. Like a piece of artwork. And I can use them to blackmail you in the future.” You grinned.
“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes. “They are pretty cool though…”
There was a nod of agreement. 
“Thank you. y/n/n.” Dick said. “I honestly don’t know what we would do without you.”
“Bleed out and die probably.” You joked and he hummed with laughter.
“On a serious note,” Dick added “We have seriously got to stop getting hurt so much.”
🦇 Batfam Taglist:
@mamapucket
@xxrougefangxx
@hell-o-kittys
@aestheticdaisies
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