#now this is a heavy one yikes

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance isn’t good at asking for help. Really, he never has been. He doesn’t like it. It makes him uncomfortable, having to look lesser than he already does. And, like, he’s not trying to say that in a macho, I’m-too-manly-to-be-vulnerable, bullshit way. Nor does he think that asking for help is, inherently, an admission of weakness. He’s always very happy when people come to him for help, and he would never in a million years think less of them for it.

But the rules are different for Lance, and that’s a fact.

For whatever reason, one he’s been unable to discern, people tend to immediately think the worst of him. Always. He’s always the slacker, the guy who can’t take anything seriously, the guy who fucks things up and needs instructions explained to him twice because he’s too stupid to understand the first time. He doesn’t fucking know why so many people think this of him. He’s a goofy guy, sure, but, like… so is Hunk. So is Coran. So is Marco, so is Lance’s abuela, so are dozens of people in his life. But for whatever reason, those people are allowed to be goofy and smart. Goofy and wise. Goofy and talented. Goofy and kind.

Not Lance. Lance is, for whatever reason, one-dimensional in everyone’s head.

And he knows he’s right. He fucking knows it. He remembers complaining about homework in the Garrison, and hearing Pidge make a comment about helping him in math because “that must be what you’re struggling with, right, dude?” Lance was top of his fucking math class. He was higher up than her. Lance is really fucking good at math. He didn’t and doesn’t need her fucking tutelage, and it pissed him off that she asked. That she assumed he did.

But he swallowed it down, and laughed, because he knew she wasn’t being malicious.

And, like, if that was it? Then this wouldn’t be a problem. Lance would be able to shrug it off and move on.

But that’s not it.

Take the Nyma incident, for example. The team brings that up, no word of a lie, every single day. Somehow someone finds a way to squeeze in a joke. And it’s not even just the jokes — there’s the underlying tension that everyone truly believes, in the back of their minds, that Lance can’t be fully trusted with his lion. Which is fucking ridiculous, because each and every person on the goddamn team has made a mistake that nearly cost them the goddamn war. Pidge trying to run away from Voltron in the first few days. Allura and Keith when they decided to run away, leaving the rest of the team defenseless. Hunk succumbing to the mind control and nearly fucking killing Lance on the mermaid planet. Every time Shiro has a PTSD episode, even though of course it’s not his fault. Of course Lance has fucked up. Drastically. But so has everyone else. How come it’s only him who’s the butt of the joke? How come he’s the reckless one, who can’t stay out of the pods? (Even though he won’t touch those fucking death traps unless he’s unconscious, so that’s not even true.) How come he’s the dumbest team member? How come he’s not allowed to help in strategy meetings? How come he gets singled out when Shiro and Allura are asking them to behave, even though Pidge and Hunk — and he’s counted — have caused three times as many diplomatic crises as he has?

How come he’s not allowed the same forgiveness as anyone else?

It frustrates him. But it’s been like this most of his life. In school he was the class clown, even though he really didn’t make jokes during lectures. (Not intentionally, at least. He asked a lot of questions that made people laugh, for whatever reason, but that was almost never his goal! People just weren’t very clear when they spoke!) He can remember having teachers offhandedly mention to his mother that he had ‘behavioural issues’, but were unable to provide examples when she pressed. They just assumed he did. He can remember getting singled out by every fucking officer at the Garrison as the reason the sims failed, even though it really wasn’t always true.

He’s not sure what it is about him that makes people think he’s so pathetic. But he’s sure as shit not going to make it worse for himself, so unless he’s completely, physically incapable of handling a problem on his own, he’s going to keep his mouth shut and head down.

He’s pretty good at that, too, even though no one would believe him. Take the pods, for example.

Lance fucking hates them.

He’s terrified of them. Like, actual, palm-sweat panic-attack terrified. Unfortunately, getting stuck in one fucked him up more than he realised. He can’t think of them without shuddering. So he did what he always does when he’s afraid: learnt every possible thing there is to know about them. He did it as a kid, when he was afraid of drowning. (His best friend, when he was five, got caught in a riptide and drowned right in front of him. He’d been terrified of the ocean, after. Made himself walk closer to it every day while learning every possible thing there was to know about it until he could live with the terror. Until he could even turn the terror into exhilaration, swimming as far out as he dared and staying under as long as his lungs could bare, just to feel his heart pound in his ears and his hind brain go haywire.)

He did it in space, after the pods tried to bury him alive.

He learned — from Coran and from the castle’s library — that the pods are not miracle workers. They cannot make something out of nothing anymore than they can reanimate the dead. The pods, really, are a sort of advanced coma. They can accelerate what healing the body can already do. They can even take cells and other parts of the body and make skin grafts, kill tumours, all sorts of things — but they can’t repair what no longer exists.

Lance, after the Rover explosion, lost two things.

First was almost the entirety of the skin of his back. Ripped to shreds, it was. His head, by some miracle, had remained largely unscathed — except for the concussion that went untreated for too long, that affected his brain in more ways than he was willing to admit, that made memory recall a lot harder than it used to be — and his jeans had done a pretty good job of protecting the backs of his legs.

But his thin t-shirt did nothing to protect his back. And there was only so much the pod could do.

Most of his back was one giant mess of scar tissue and skin grafts. And as scar tissues and skin grafts tend to do — they hurt.

They hurt a lot.

Nerve damage is a strange thing. Sometimes it makes entire parts of your body go numb. Unfortunately for Lance, it’s the opposite: regularly, and unpredictability, his back feels like it’s burning. Like he never left the explosion. Like he’s in a constant state of purgatory.

And for the first few weeks, Lance handled it. He grit his teeth and waved off the concerns of his teammates, assuring them with a wink and a grin that he’d healed up just as handsome as before. (Which, of course, was a lie for several reasons. Every time Lance caught a glance of himself in the mirror — of the writhing mass of revulsion that makes up the skin of his back — he wants to wipe his memory. Restart. Pretend it never happened, pretend he’s still pretty, still untouched by twistedness. But that’s nobody’s business but his own, so he holds his tongue.)

Day after day of the skin of his back feeling the constant, never-ending excruciating pain of cooking flesh, he gave in. Hunched in on himself, dragged himself to Coran’s room, and asked if there was something to be done.

Coran was horrified, of course. Baffled that Lance didn’t come to him sooner, that he swallowed down the agony and tried to deal with it himself. And he of course had a solution; a balm that would provide instant, long-lasting relief. But there was no permanent fix. No pill he could take, either. Every couple of weeks, he had no choice but to slump his way to Coran and have the man rub to ointment into his back, because he couldn’t reach himself.

It was humiliating, being so reliant on another person. Being so totally incapable of handling things himself, of being his own goddamn person. At least Coran was kind, was discreet — he knew without saying that this was not something to be shared with anyone else. He knew to help Lance as quickly as possible, so Lance could retreat to nurse his wounded pride in peace.

It was because of his wounded pride that made the second thing so difficult: along with the skin of his back, the explosion had stolen his hearing.

Not completely. He wasn’t completely deaf. But he was no Altean superhuman, and the delicate hairs in his ears that allowed his brain to pick up sound waves have shattered so close to the explosion. Broken. He’d taken some sort of magnifying device himself to assess the damage, the night he fell out of the healing pod, panicked because his fucking ears weren’t working and dreading what he would find: hundreds of little hairs, much smaller than they were supposed to be. Too small to hear words, to hear people speak.

He could of course still hear them speak. He could hear when people were speaking, still hear the tone and pitch of their voices and the way they crafted their sentences. But it felt like he was dozens of feet underwater, far away from everyone else, completely incapable of picking out individual words and phrases and lost on their meanings.

Luckily, he adapted.

He’s always been pretty good at reading lips. Since it’s always been hard for him to make any kind of eye contact, he tended to focus on people’s mouths when they spoke, and inadvertently picked up some skills as he grew up.

But lip reading isn’t very reliable. You can be the best in the world, and you’re still going to miss half of what people are saying.

Especially if, say, people are speaking your second language. Or an alien language you don’t even know, at least not fluently.

Luckily for Lance, he lives on a magical space castle that has magical space translators. He doesn’t know how they work — and, honestly, aside from Coran, doubts anyone else does either — but he knows that they translate the words of whomever’s speaking into the language easiest to understand for you. Before, he was hearing everyone else’s words in Spanglish — now, he was seeing them. Little close captions appeared above the heads of whomever was speaking. He looked a little odd, sure, constantly looking just above everyone, but holy shit, he did not care. So long as he could communicate, it did not fucking matter. (It was even easier when he was in his armour, and everyone’s words flashed along his visor, colour-coded and in order. He’s been remarkably more fond of training and missions since that explosion, fancy that.)

The biggest flaw to this system is that everyone else still has a communicative advantage over Lance, and they do not know it. They speak as they always have, often excitably and all over each other, and Lance can’t quite keep up. He’s never been a particularly fast reader, but even if he was, there’d always be a delay, a millisecond of processing that stretched just long enough that people looked at him strangely. And, of course, Lance could only read one thing at once. If two people were talking at the same time, or if they were trying to talk to him without looking at him, it was inevitable that Lance misses. Chunks of the conversation, inside jokes, and worst of all, instructions. He’s taken to asking people to write important things down for him, which does not help his reputation as resident dumbass.

All in all, it’s not a perfect solution. But it’s a solution, at least, and that’s something.

Except when magical space castles break down.

It turns out, you see, that space magic is not in fact space magic, but instead ridiculously advanced space technology. And if there’s one thing that technology can be universally relied upon to do, it’s break down.

Which does not bode well for Lance, currently.

He walks onto the bridge — late, of course, because the alarms are barely fucking alarms for him, they do not wake him up, so of course he shows up in his pajamas and for sure everyone thinks he’s a lazy piece of shit who can’t be assed to take anything seriously — to a lot of thinly veiled panic.

And to a lack of closed captions that he’s been heavily relying on for the better part of a year.

Based on the general air of panic, expressions of frustrated confusion between the Alteans and humans, and the lack of fucking captions, Lance can wary a guess as to what’s going on.

The translators are down.

And, obviously, that bodes a bit of a problem. Especially because they have a mission today, one they can’t afford to fuck up. (Not that they can ever afford to fuck up. No, Voltron needs to be perfect every time, because there are lives at stake, except Voltron is made of humans, so they fuck up all the time. It weighs on each of them. When Lance is feeling particularly masochistic, he wonders what’s going to happen when they snap under the pressure. When he snaps under the pressure.)

Lance stands to the sidelines, carefully watching what everyone else is saying and doing. Shiro and Allura attempt to converse for a while, with words and gestures, but it goes nowhere and they both give up. Pidge and Hunk are talking just fine, but they both look nervous, and they’re curled inwards towards each other enough that Lance can’t see what they’re saying. Coran is nowhere to be found, likely attempting to fix this mess, and Keith is — Keith is watching him.

Lance looks away. He cannot be under scrutiny. Not right now. Because… well.

You see, deaf people can’t be fighter pilots.

Period.

Commercial airlines are one thing, but fighter pilots require a lot of split-second decisions to be made after audio information, be they orders or the sound of your fucking aircraft going up in flames. If you can’t hear those sounds, can’t make those calls, you’re a liability to those around you.

Lance knows he’s being selfish. He knows it in every part of him, from the meat of his brain to the marrow of his bones. He know he is putting everyone at risk — putting himself at risk — by keeping quiet about his condition.

But he’s terrified.

Of course he’s replaceable. He’s a butt in a seat, basically. But unlike everyone else on the team, he is only a butt on a seat. He doesn’t bring anything else to the table, perhaps other than someone who can pick up the slack in the chore schedule when everyone else gets busy. He can’t hack through any computer known to man, can’t MacGuyver his way out of any situation with a screwdriver and sheer force of will, can’t offer piloting skills better than anyone else in the universe, can’t use his quintessence to open up wormholes. If he’s not a paladin, he’s useless.

And they don’t have enough resources to support useless people.

What are they going to do when they replace him? Keep him on the castle as a deadweight? Unlikely. Unbearable, too. Drop him off on a random planet and promise to pick him up when it’s all over? Too callous, even though it would be the best option. No one on the team would ever do that.

Drop him back on Earth? Alone? Knowing what’s out there, the danger Earth is in?

No. He couldn’t bear it.

Besides — he’s lasted this long. With captions, sure, and without them he can’t communicate at all or hear orders or get instructions or be a fucking paladin, but he’ll… manage.

They’ve already received their instructions for today’s mission. Lance already knows what he has to do, and it’s what he always does — provide support from a distance. Keep an eye on the team. Make sure no shots slip through.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling grateful instead of masochistic, he thanks any higher power to every exist that he lost his hearing instead of his eyesight.)

Lance is startled from his thoughts by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turns wide eyes to Shiro, looking at him carefully, assessing.

“You okay?”

Lance is used to those words. He gets them a lot. So that’s not hard to read.

“I’m fine,” he says, and he knows he’s too loud even before Shiro winces, because even his own broken ears heard that. “Um, just a little stressed. ‘Cause the translators are down, and all.”

Truly Lance does not need to read Shiro’s lips to guess what he is saying — we’re gonna be fine, we’ll get through this together, this is rough but we’re strong, et cetera, et cetera.

Fuck, Lance thinks, dread piling up his chest, if only you knew.

Shiro voices a few more short instructions to the team, Pidge haltingly trying to translate for Allura with her limited Altean — which, judging by their expressions, is going not so great — before clapping his hands and sending them to their hangars.

Lance squeezes his fists to hold back tears as he runs.

Fine. Fine. This is going to be fine. Magically, this time, things are going to go exactly to plan, and he’ll support as he always done and somehow there will be no issues, this time, and everything will be fine and the translators will get fixed and Lance will continue delaying the inevitable. It’s fine.

God, Lance is so fucking scared.

He settles into Blue, greeting her softly and getting her gentle affection in return. (It’s something, at least, that Blue knows who he is and loves him still, believes in him still. It gives him hope, even though he knows it’s foolish.)

And, shockingly, the first part of the mission goes…okay. It’s not great, obviously, because they’ve basically got no castle support, but Blue manages to make her own kind of captions on her dash so Lance gets a refresher of the plan and stays on the same page as everyone else.

It’s the infiltration part that’s so much harder.

He doesn’t have Blue’s captions on his helmet, so he’s going in completely blind — or, deaf, rather. The only thing he can really hear is his own laboured breathing, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s really that loud or because he knows he’s panicking, but it doesn’t really matter. He slinks through the shadows, carefully avoiding patrolling Galran soldiers. (Which, actually, is really fucking hard since he can’t hear them coming. In the first few weeks post-explosion, it was literally impossible. He was caught every time, and regularly blew stealth missions as he tried to cover himself and keep himself alive. He also didn’t know when he was being loud, back then, so regularly led himself straight into ambushes, which didn’t help the team’s trust in him to be able to handle his goddamn self. It took him months of secret training in the dead of night to learn to trust his intuition, to memorize patrolling schedules and anticipate when he has to make himself invisible. He is pretty good at it now, though, so at least something good has come from this mess.)

Finally he reaches boiler room tucked into a corner of a hallway, which he knows from experience and from memorizing layouts to Galran ships has an air vent that leads to the tiniest of alcoves near the ceiling of the bridge. He’s not sure what purpose this alcove is supposed to serve, but he knows it’s excellent for his purposes — remaining hidden and invisible so he can provide support while the rest of the team goes ham.

Even without the captions that tell him what everyone’s saying on the comms — and dear God, he hopes no one is talking to him, but that usually doesn’t happen because of his position anyway — he thinks he’s doing okay. This ship they’re infiltration is pretty run-of-the-mill: no fancy info or prisoners or even soldiers. Just regular. All he has to do is keep his eyes trained on the battle scene in front of him, muffled sounds of violence fading into the background, as he picks off soldier after soldier, drone after drone, to keep his friends safe.

And then a hand wraps around his mouth, and panic fills him up so quickly his vision actually whites out.

Lance has a lot of nightmares. It’s a rare night that he doesn’t. And most of them are reoccurring — a select few scenarios that he sees again and again, night after night, that wake him up sobbing, in a cold sweat. The worst is watching as Earth — as his family — is destroyed by the Galra. Next is any dream where one of his team members doesn’t make it. After that, though, is a dream that always scares him so bad he can never get back to sleep after. The thing about being a sniper is that Lance can’t pay attention to himself. At all. All of his attention needs to be on the people he’s protecting, so he can shoot straight and keep shooting. This means that he is not, in any way, shape, or form, watching his own six. And since he lost his hearing, he’s completely defenseless, up in his little alcove. He can’t hear if someone’s coming, can’t even hear if someone’s spotted him. He’s pretty confident in his little alcove, but there’s always a risk. Always that fear. Always that nightmare, reoccurring night after night.

And now that nightmare is coming true. The hand around his eyes slides down his face until it’s wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly. Lance doesn’t have even half a second to react, staring in mute horror as the Galran soldier — a commander, judging by the symbol on his chest plate — sneers at him, saying something that Lance can’t even hear, lips moving around words that he doesn’t know.

Finally, he recognises three: “Vrepit Sa, Paladin.”

And then he’s dropping to the floor, three stories down, limbs crumpling on impact and vision doing dark.

———

Right before the door of the pod opens, there’s a second of clarity. A millisecond in between when you regain consciousness and the glass clears.

That second always makes Lance panic.

But then he’s tipping forward into strong arms, familiar arms, and a familiar face and headband, and Hunk is saying, “Can you hear me, buddy?” because that’s the first thing anyone says when you come out of a pod and there are still no captions and Lance bursts into tears.

The whole team is gathered. Everyone sees. Everyone watches as he pushes Hunk away, ashamed, and covers his face in his hands and sobs.

“No,” he whispers, in between great heaving breaths so sharp they hurt his lungs. “No, I can’t hear anything.”

He’s not sure how long he stands there, shoulders hunched in on himself, tears and snot streaming down his face and dropping down his chin, arms wrapped tightly around his torso in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling apart.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, falling to pieces in front of his team. He’s not sure into how many fragments he shatters, falling to the MedBay floor.

Eventually, though, his sobs peter out, because no matter how miserable you are and how stressed and how much you hate yourself there’s only so long you can cry. Only so long your rational brain can take a break and let your emotions run free before it says ‘alright, okay, that’s enough, dry up’.

By then, he realizes there’s a gloved hand on his shoulder, two warm bodies pressed on either side of him, one big and strong, one small and sharp. He feels the presence of three more people staring at him, sitting somewhere in front of him.

He takes a great shuddering breath and drops his hands from his face, forcing his eyes open.

Coran kneels in front of him, hand on his shoulders, eyebrows drawn in and expression deeply concerned. Pidge and Hunk sit on either side of him, pressed close, and Keith, Allura, and Shiro sit just behind Coran, looking at him with wide, confused eyes.

“What do mean, dear?” says Coran, or at least Lance thinks.

“I can’t hear. I’ve been deaf since the explosion.” His voice cracks as he says it, he feels the raspiness of his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He feels Pidge and Hunk exhale sharply next to him, and watches as Coran’s expression breaks.

“Oh, Lance,” he says, and apparently Lance can cry more.

But before he can cover his face, this time, Coran tugs him forward, tucking his face into his neck. He mutters something comforting, Lance is sure, even though he can’t hear it, but the vibrations from Coran’s chest are soothing enough that this round of tears doesn’t hurt so much.

This round doesn’t feel like he’s shattering into millions of tiny little glass shards. This round, someone — lots of someones — is holding him together.

———

Lance, it turns out, is a lot more damaged than he thought.

Apparently his head didn’t emerge as unscathed from the explosion as he thought. Apparently there was a lot more brain damage than expected, and apparently a lot of the parts of Lance’s brain that are supposed to secrete chemicals — namely, happy chemicals, chemicals that identify love and keep one’s mood and self-esteem from plummeting into the fucking dirt and refusing to come back up — don’t work right anymore.

Apparently, there’s a reason Lance feels like he’s unloveable, and that he’s useless, and that he’s disposable.

So. That would’ve been nice to know a year ago.

But that doesn’t matter. He didn’t know a year ago, but he knows now (after a long overdue MRI and brain scan that makes everyone on the castle so fucking guilty Lance can taste it, which should be uncomfortable but Lance is so desperately happy that his friends actually care about him enough to feel guilty that all he really feels is relief).

Now things are better. A lot better, in fact. He still needs to ask someone for help every couple weeks with his back — which has gotten a lot less shameful and humiliating, go figure — but Hunk and Pidge made him some truly groundbreaking hearing aids.

Yeah. He can hear again. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near what his ears used to be, but the first time he turned them on and heard actual words, in a sentence he could hear and understand, he went pretty hysterical.

It felt like when the flu finally breaks and you can breathe properly again, only magnified by a million.

The last thing to change is kind of a mix of several things. For starters, he has meds, now, that he takes every day to keep his brain working right. It was startling, a few weeks after taking his medication, to look in the mirror and for the first time in a year not wish he had died in that explosion. (He mentioned that offhandedly to Coran when the man was asking him how the medication was working, and was shocked to watch the Altean break down into sobs, apologising to Lance for not noticing.

Like, holy crow.)

Secondly, after everyone stopped walking on eggshells around him, they started being more careful with their words. Lance hasn’t heard a Nyma joke in months. He’s regularly asked for his input when they’re planning missions, hell, he’s asked for help all the time for things that aren’t chores! It’s amazing. He’s not sure if the team has always had faith in him and his brain just couldn’t see it, or if it’s new, but honestly? He doesn’t care.

He didn’t realise how fucking long he had been treading water until he was finally allowed to put his feet on the ground, and it’s relieving.

There’s nothing like discovering you were loved the whole time.

#now this is a heavy one yikes #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #langst #deaf lance #partially deaf lance #depressed lance #chronic pain lance #triple whammy for this poor bitch #self hatred #internalized ableism #lance & coran #lance & voltron paladins #injury and recovery #violence #struggling lance #insecure lance #hurt/comfort #heavy angst #my writing #fic #longpost #mentally ill lance

[cordeliawhohung]

need mafia!simon and shy!reader pda stuff in the club and out in public

you know what anon, i need this too. in this little shot we're gonna pretend simon and reader have been together for a bit. also i went to extreme pda and made them almost fuck hope that was okay lmao

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: HEAVY pda, a bit of sexual tension, but mostly fluff, a little smooch, Simon can't keep his hands off of you, reader is an anxious sweetheart

How you kept ending up in a place such as John Price's club was beyond you, and frankly a bit concerning. It was the last place in the entire world that you wanted to be due to how crowded, loud, and terrifying it was, yet be it because of your friend, or Simon Riley, you always made your way back there for one reason or another.

That night wasn't much different than any of the other times you had been there, and maybe you should have been grateful for the fact that the club was at least a little predictable. What wasn't predictable, though, was your boyfriend. Out of anyone you had ever met, he was a wildcard, which both intrigued and scared you at the same time. Always keeping things interesting, he was rather sporadic which was nice and yet the single greatest cause for your anxiety in most cases.

"A little more to the right," Simon prompted.

No matter where you were at, if there was a pool table, Simon was able to find it. You noticed that he always kept his hands moving like he was hardly ever able to sit still, be it checking something on his phone, or holding your hand. Pool seemed to be his drug of choice, though, which of course meant that you would always end up playing with him, where he would mercilessly beat you in every single round.

"Like this?" you asked.

"Tad too much. There, now shoot."

Despite his guidance, the tip of your cue grazed the side of the ball which sent it spinning too far to the left. Huffing, you straightened yourself up as you watched it clumsily bounce against the sides of the table before eventually coming to a stop.

"Yikes," you muttered.

"Thanks for lining up my shot for me, sweetheart," Simon teased.

Just like the last two rounds, Simon wrangled yet another triumphant win for himself as he knocked his last three balls into the pockets before slamming the last eight ball along with them. By that point you weren't even disappointed when you lost as you were very much used to it. Your boyfriend, however, never seemed to get used to how much he enjoyed gloating after each win.

"Another round?" he suggested.

"I think it'd be more efficient if you played by yourself at this point," you sighed as you rested your cue against the table.

Mirroring your actions, Simon rested his cue next to yours before he put his hands on your hips. You weren't prepared for how quickly your mouth would run dry, and you found your eyes blinking rapidly as you stared up at him. His touch was warm, it always was, or maybe you just thought it was because it always felt like your organs were boiling whenever he even so much as looked at you. But there were so many people around, too many people around.

"Bein' a sore loser, are we?" he teased.

It took a moment for the words to form in your mouth, like his touch had completely reset your brain. Eventually, your hands came up to rest on his chest as if attempting to keep some modest space between the two of you.

"Simon, there- there are people around," you said as you anxiously glanced around the area. The VIP bar had less people than any other area in the building, but there were still too many eyes for your comfort.

"What about it?" he asked. His thumbs began to glide along your hips, desperately trying to feel the softness of your skin through the fabric of your pants.

"Someone's gonna see," you defended.

Nothing you said seemed to deter Simon from his task. His hands continued to paw at your hips as his own pushed you against the pool table, trapping your legs as his head lowered into the crook of your neck. You could feel the embarrassment boil just underneath your skin, and your fingers gripped his shirt so tightly you worried it would rip.

"Let 'em see," he said, lips grazing against your neck. "They can mind their damn business if they care so much."

"Simon, seriou-!"

Your words were cut off with a squeak as he effortlessly lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the table. His hips nestled between your thighs and you were infinitely grateful that you hadn't worn a dress that time around. Still, no matter how grateful you were, it didn't change your precarious situation.

"Trust me, sweetheart," he assured you while his hands began to wander up towards your waist, "no one cares."

Every brush of his fingers and hands against you sent shivers throughout your body. It was the strangest feeling ever, enjoying his touch and yet feeling ashamed about it at the same time. Too many prying eyes, glances not actually meant for you but ones your brain convinced you were malicious. Maybe if you were stronger, more confident, more brave, you could have actually enjoyed the moment instead of worrying so much about it.

"I care," you blurted out.

Once those words left your mouth Simon's hands ceased in wandering over your waist. He slowly moved away from your neck and leaned back to look at you, where you found his expression was much softer than you had anticipated it to be. He was handsome all the time, but even more so when he looked at you like that; like you were the only person in the whole world.

With your hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt, you yanked hard on it and pulled him close enough until your lips crashed together. Everything in your brain screamed for you to stop, that people were around, that they'd think you were a freak, but it was as if something had possessed you. Surprised, but not at all upset, Simon returned his hands back to your waist as he moved his lips against yours.

To your surprise, it was actually Simon who pulled away first, and he was not at all trying to hide the slight smirk on his lips. You blinked a few times to clear your mind before you found one of your hands reaching out for your cue stick.

"A-Another round?" you asked.

Simon tilted his head to the side and you watched as a short chuckle rippled through his chest and shoulders. He reached for his own cue before taking a step back and allowing you to slide off of the table.

"I'll go easy on you this time," he claimed.

While he set the table up you stood watching him with a hand over your chest. Your heart pulsed so powerfully in your rib cage you were certain your pulse was visible in your throat. Still, you tried to shake off that trembling feeling of excitement that coursed through your body while you pretended your hands weren't struggling to hold your cue stick due to your sweaty palms.

i thought about having simon make a joke about bending you over and fucking you on the table and everyone else could just deal with it but i thought that might've been too much so i went for something a bit more fluffy instead lmao. also requests are open again so feel free to send in some if you have any ideas (:

#mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[onyourhyuck]

EXCHANGE LESSONS | L.MK

Pairing: mark lee x fem!oc

Summary: You’re the top student in every subject and your classmate!mark asks for your help in science and you offer the unprecedented exchange lessons that leave him off guard.

genre: smut, tutoring, classmates, inexperienced female oc, the concept of virginity being taken (it’s a social construct but you get it) and dominant!mark. minor groping, pussy eating and penetrating sex. Releasing on stomach, unprotected sex (please use a condom irl)

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You’re at the top of the food chain in every subject. Your desolated heart and effortless mind astounds the entire community around you. Since you’re such a smart and passionate individual, people doubt you have any flaws.

But that’s not so true. You do suck at one subject; Sex. Your body and mind leave your soul every moment you tried doing the most remote action like making out — you suck at it.

Perhaps it’s because you’re not comfortable enough with the person? Or maybe the idea of being sexually active is a new concept to you. This puts you at a frustrating disadvantage. You want to experience what it is like to be held by another person, to be worshipped and loved by every curve you have. You really want to experience intimacy. Someone’s hands holding your waist with fingers scrolling circles on your bare skin. Dancing out in heavy rain? Angry makeouts. Jealousy. You want to experience those rollercoasters of emotions. But you can’t because you’re missing the second person. This was no way a one man action.

That was until an opportunity arises. The boy in your class that wasn’t so good at any of his classes, barely scraping by. He had a thick foreign accent - and he never stops boosting about how he’s from Canada. He was visibly attractive. Most girls in your class fancy him.

Mark never really spent his day alone. Ever. There will always be people surrounding him. It’s like this was his world and we’re all just living in it you know?

“Hey Y/n,” A voice strikes up from behind. The boy standing only few inches from your height with a beige cap on backwards. It gave him a real bandboyish look today.

Your eyes dart to him. At first you look visibly confused but you manage to respond with a very soft greet. “Hey what’s up?”

You guys barely talk so this was all very new. The most talks you ever did was a simple ‘good morning’ to each other and never speak again. In fact this felt very awkward on your end.

Mark’s eyes look on the very left end of the lockers. The built tone body wearing these very baggy clothing press up on the metallic doors. Voice trailing off in an obvious direction. “Uhh, you know nothin’ much. The usual you know how it is.”

‘Yikes why does he look suddenly so guilty and suspicious?’ You question in your own mind. What was this strange feeling in your stomach? Like a hollow pit about to explode.

You mumbles quietly. “Right…”

Turning around your locker slams shut. The stuff you needed was carried by your arms. You thought this conversation had ended considering Mark wasn’t spitting out anything he wanted to say but the moment your back had turned on him, the boy quickly leaps in front of your path.

“Wait!” Mark stops you with two hands urgently.

You stop now with a small shock spread on your eyebrows and a visible streak of annoyance in your eyes.

“Tutor me! I want you to tutor me,” Mark said with a little pant to those syllables he stressed out with a stretch. Those hands come down and it really looks like for a moment he was embarrassed to ask. As if he had no idea how to ask you.

That’s all he wanted from you. It was a tutoring lesson so he could boost his grade up. Because lord knows he needs a good number. Otherwise he is finished with this class.

Your eyes line themselves on the boy. “You want me to tutor you?” You repeated back, Mark gave a simple nod. “Why me? You could have asked someone else.”

He furrows those eyebrows. “You seem- cool enough.” Mark then paused and panicked. Your expression seems unhappy by that anticlimactic response. “I mean! Your notes are cool and easy to understand. You explain things well.”

Well that came out wrong, what he wanted to say is you’re cool enough and you’re the smartest in the class. He doesn’t think he ever saw you get a bad grade.

Deep in your heart you couldn’t say no. Mark seems to be desperate for your help and you technically had an alternative motive. As bad as that sounds you can actually imagine losing your first deed to Mark. He was handsome, without a doubt you maybe fantasised getting off to him before. You don’t want to admit it but you did it more than once.

He was the new boy, wild and bright. Radiant and sweet. He was respectful, popular with everyone he hardly has any enemies. No one could hate a guy like Mark. He was a foreign exchange student from Canada and what more, he was an amazing soccer player last year. He won for your school club a trophy. He’s done pretty remarkable things.

Except his classes, which he severely needs your help with.

Sitting down in your bedroom, you constantly glance over to Mark who was sitting on the other end of your bed writing down on his notebook. To which your mind was at a war between asking him if he wants to do something else or if you should leave your stupid idea behind.

You are lost on how to approach the idea to him. You can’t just say ‘Hey let’s sleep together!’ And look like a sane person. Because that’s the opposite of normal. You barely know the guy too.

Your body lifts up your sweater and you nervously laugh it off. “Ahh it’s so hot, right? I should take this off.” Your hands pull off the warm fabric off your limbs and Mark looks up from his notes to glance at you. He looks at you for good three seconds.

The good look on your visible black tank top and cleavage exposing caught his eye but not enough for him to grasp your intentions. Instead Mark continues his work like the champ he was. Unbothered and gullible.

“Yeah? I feel normal.” Mark relies obliviously. You furrow your eyebrows and feel your stomach clench. Why was it so hard to ask Mark to have sex with you? It’s like the most difficult question for you.

And you never struggled with math questions before. You can’t believe it. Why was a simple risky move harder than school work.

He went back to doing his work. Thankfully you’re an amazing tutor so far your explanations did wonders for Mark. But you’re sat there staring at him with your eyes gawking.

You’re like an eagle pouncing, but you’re hesitant at the same time.

The boy did take notice of your stares and very acknowledged presence. But he didn’t know why and he doesn’t quite want to ask you, because what if that makes you pressured and embarrassed? Mark felt however very watched. Every movement of his pen. Every step of his breathing he makes on the same bed you’re sitting with him on.

It felt discomforting almost?

You clear your voice. “Mark have you ever had…” you pause because you’re suddenly getting to know how intrusive you are being. The boy’s head lifts up and he waits for you to finish.

“Have you ever had sex?” You begin again. You bite on your inner cheek which starts to make Mark flustered. From such a smart and disciplined girl you really have a way of starting conversations.

Mark nodded. “Yeah. Did you?”

Even if it was an inappropriate comment, Mark didn’t lie about it and he answered you truthfully. The boy didn’t know what to say at first. But what’s the harm in saying yes?

You don’t reply and you move a little closer to Mark holding your knees against your chest. Wearing shorts came in handy because Mark can see a full outline of your beautiful legs.

“What was your first time like?” You ask without answering him. Mark raised up his eyebrow thinking to himself. “Uhh,” he sits up on the mattress.

Mark brushed the pen down on the notebook. “I think it was with my girlfriend at the time.” You fully expected him to say some chick at the party but knowing his ex girlfriend was his first time, made this somehow really sweet and romantic.

Mark mumbles. “But what was your like?”

Your lips fell in a thin line. In an embarrassing way you turn away your gaze when your reply hits the taller quick.

“Mark I am a virgin,” You said it with a moment of clarity. He wasn’t sure why you’re still a virgin when you’re decently attractive and hella smart.

It somehow doesn’t make any sense.

Mark’s mouth drops like an umbrella sheet. “No way.” And you nod to show its the truth. Mark laughs a bit not in a mocking way but in a sense of disbelief to lighten up your mood.

He could tell you’re almost ashamed but he didn’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. In any case he wonders if that’s a positive more than a con.

“Hey Y/n that’s not a bad thing you know that right?” He nudges your arms with his elbow with a smile.

You sigh a little. “I know but I want to experience it. I don’t really care about my virginity that much.”

“So how come you’re still a virgin? You’re pretty and smart.” Mark chuckles, he didn’t quite understand it. If you wanted to lose your virginity card so badly how come you still have it?

Your eyes look at him, your chance to tell him how clueless you are when it comes to sex arises. A part of you don’t want to tell him you’re bad at sex because that’s really embarrassingly stupid. Or the fact that you have no idea how to do anything. You can’t even figure out how kissing goddamn works!

You swallow down your own emotions. “I have no idea how to have sex.”

Moments later your eyes have glued together in what seems to be a staring competition. Mark didn’t think you’d be completely clueless. It came so naturally to him when he was about to do it for the first time. To you this was like a big deal.

Mark comes forward mumbling nervously. “You don’t know how to kiss either?” You shake your head a no.

The boy was silent until his eyes fell down to your lips. They look pretty, they seem very red and plum. He couldn’t grasp it but the guts clench in a sudden contraction.

“Do you want me to teach you?” Mark starts to ask you. Your face fell to the ground or it rather feels like it. He read your mind.

He was so nervous about it, he didn’t want to come off like a freaking creep to you. Little does he know you were begging for this offer.

He trails. “You know — like exchange lessons? You helped me with science and I can help with sex lessons.”

That doesn’t sound too bad to you. The deal was appealing. Your eyes sparkle up and come forward to kiss his lips. When you did the first gesture this said a lot to the boy before you. You were agreeing. You didn’t back away, your eyes were glowing at the idea of him teaching you what to do during sexual encounters. And thus, he opens his mouth slipping in slowly his tongue. Caressing your soft untouched mouth was like a dream come true. You were like melting ice the moment your mouth felt the warmth of the salivas mixing in as one. The kiss was slow at the beginning but occasionally you got the hang of the pace and Mark decided to spice it up.

He had to spice it up for you. Mark wanted to show you how it really is. What it really awaits you. The kiss springs from the bottom, a sudden piercing movement shocks you causing your moans to fall off.

Did he just bite your bottom lip? He smirks at your reaction and pulls you down on the bed. Hovering above your lean shoulders those grabby hands touch on your waist to position you a little downwards to his liking.

Mark kissed your neck, your jawline, down the side to your ears and your shoulders once your top slips off leaving you in your bra.

Your bra was a pretty blue colour. Mark smiles at your chest in slight adoration. Your eyes took a glimpse of his eyes and his lips have small kisses to your chest, to the cleavage. In between your breasts he brushed his face into the softness of your pillows.

“You know I’m surprised you’re a virgin.” He begins quietly, travelling his mouth down to your stomach till your navel touches.

Your feet curl up. This was somehow nerve wrecking but it feels good? But it’s so slow and it’s like he’s bringing you to rest.

“Why?” You ask out quietly.

Mark mumbles when his fingers reach the very entrance of your panty lining. He stops at your abdomen monitoring the shorts he took off. Your panty matches the colour to your lovely bra. You feel so warm between the flat stomach, his fingers slip your panties down to your legs half way.

Eyes look up to see your face. “You strike me as someone who knows everything.” He might be right. You come across as reliable person.

But you don’t know everything unfortunately, you’re only human and you doubt that Mark knows absolutely everything too. You smile shyly and close your thighs together.

This was embarrassing. You never really went further than kissing someone badly before. He could see everything but the moment your legs shut him off Mark gave a small nudge with his hands to pull your thighs apart gently.

“No hiding Y/n come on? Open up for me.”

Your hands cover your face as your legs open up like two doors. Mark smiles in awe but you couldn’t see that. The boy kissed your entrance, like a peck to the lips until those same lips kiss the inner thighs. He loved seeing your legs trembling from nothing but nervousness.

You really are a small ball of wreck.

He quietly says. “You’re pretty down there why are you so worried?”

He didn’t quite understand what was making you this anxious and you shudder when his tongue does kitten lick motions to your pussy. You’re unable to make any sense of what just happened, but all you know is that this feels too good to stop.

Tongue traps at your nub flicking his motions in left and right directions: your pelvis subtly lifts off the bed to roll back. Mark hums against your entrance, he was devouring you as if it’s his first time too. It feels too good for you and that’s what’s making him get off the whole idea: You feeling good.

His tongue went inside your small hole giving it a few thrusts of his tongue. His nose pressed right against your clit. Your burning hot skin flushes his face and your thighs squeeze when your stomach clenches so tightly. Without a warning you slip into oblivion.

Mumbling out highly. “Fuckfuckfuck m’gonna cum.”

Striving to give you the best orgasm of your life, Mark feverishly sucks on your edging pearl, your clit was practically swollen and this pushed you right off the edge just as he wanted you to. He was watching up at you from down there seeing your spine arch and your moans hit the back of your throat, so hoarse and sore. The way your eyes shut and your hands grip at anything nearby: the bed sheets, your breasts, his thick hair.

Pulling out of your wet slimey pussy from all the coating of saliva. You take a deep breath, Mark positions him above you he saw your bright reddish cheeks and your sparkling wet eyes. You look beautiful like this.

He whispers. “Do you still want to continue?”

Your mind was a fog but you never hesitated to reply to your classmate. “Yes, please.”

It’s definitely a sight to see. You’re being so adamant about it. Mark leans down and pulls down his rock solid crotch out. Those jeans slipped off and it leaves an ugly feeling when you’re hard in jeans.

It feels like a big weight lifted from him when it comes off. The boy sits back and gave you a glance as if he is telling you to come forward.

“Do you want to take the boxers off?” You heard him ask you. Your eyes light up and with your small hands pulling off his boxers. Mark gave you a dark gaze when his large cock springs up against his stomach. Your mouth waters just looking at it.

Your stomach made a small butterfly clutch too. You look at him in panic. “Whoa wait, will that fit?” You sound so dumbfounded. But Mark grinned and he rubs your thighs reassuringly.

“It can, it will. Trust me on this I’m the teacher here.”

He was right he was the teacher here and you’re just a mere helpless virgin. You lay down on the bed sheets when Mark moves on top of you his hard tip had to do a few teasing streaks on your entrance. You were anticipating him to just ram it in — but he wasn’t.

You were just impatient and Mark was a very patient guy who didn’t want to rush a process like this. At least for now he doesn’t have anywhere to be, what’s the rush right?

The tip was pushed out and back in, it was like a car reverse and driving forward. Your entrance was locked tight so Mark wants to stretch you out with just the tip. He had a feeling he might have to use two fingers before anything else is to happen. The boy pressed his thumb and rubs your clit. You mumble out a whine, and then his singular finger goes inside you just to do a little stretch here and there. The second finger was when it starts to feel too good for you. Your eyes shut and your voice starts to feel good.

He made his hand shake a little and then come out. Only for his tip to slip in fully in you and then gradually expand his shaft inside your pussy. You feel good, Mark was addicted to the feeling of his cock buried in your velvety new walls.

He grunts, his breath shaking. “Ah fuck Y/n, you feel better than i thought you would.”

It took every ounce of his body not to rut against you like a wild fucking beast, Mark moves up against your stomach. Your hands tremble upwards to hold his forearms.

“Mh! Fuck, it kind of hurts.” Your voice murmurs and the boy had his attention all on you. He was watching only your face when his body did the moving thing. When you told him it kind of hurts, Mark had a feeling the pain will turn to pleasure soon for you. All he could do was give a small ‘shh’ and a kiss on the forehead for you.

You’re kind of glad Mark is your first. He seems to be gentle and loving enough for this. If it was anyone else you don’t think they would be as supportive as he was to you.

A simple kiss on the forehead made your worries disappear. And you let him rut against your pussy that squelches on his shape, taking every single inch of his cock until he was balls deep.

He was right, the pain did turn to pleasure real soon.

He brushed some of your hair back from your face as his thrusts connect to his pivoting muscles and hips. Mark admires your honesty expressions too, he couldn’t help himself. You were pretty even in this state.

The boy brushed down your jawline, he leans to capture a kiss on your lips. Your voice slips off like a breathy breeze. “Mark — feels too good.”

He smiles down at you. “I know,”

Your thighs wrap themselves on his waist and that brought him deeper in a whole new position when he is pushing in your loving arms. And then you feel a strong urge in the stomach, something that’s about to explode.

Your eyebrow ends connect, furrowing. “M’think I’m gonna cum…”

You didn’t exactly know but the feeling was so intense it overlaps your hearing and your brain goes back moments later after the surging sensation washes over you.

Mark feels you cumming right on his cock, he grits his teeth together jawline attached with his remaining strength.

“Me too, I’m close, hold on.” He mumbles lowly until he fucks himself just enough to pull out of you and then flick his wrist down the shaft to paint you of his cum on your bare stomach.

Deeply breathing the boy pulls back on the bed, you achingly sit up with a small groan. You never felt your body become this sore.

Your eyes watch Mark as the boy brushed back his hair with his hand. You both look like visible messes. Sweating and panting.

Your lips curve into a small smile. “So, do you need help with anything else in your classes?”

Mark gave a visible chuckle somehow it feels like you’re going to be more of a distraction when you’re going to tutor him than he likes to believe.

“Uhh, let’s see.” He replies, looking at the studying materials you guys left unattended on the floor. Scattered is the right word more like.

“I think I prefer to Exchange Lessons.” He admits, causing you to chuckle.

Mark thinks you do too, considering you’re not disagreeing.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Follow my blog for more and reblog it helps a girl out<3 ily

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct hard hours #nct series #nct fic #nct recs #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct masterlist #nct imagines #nct u hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #nct hard thoughts #nct 127 hard hours #nct dream hard hours #nct mark smut #mark scenarios #mark x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark imagines #mark fanfic #mark lee smut #mark smut #lee mark smut #mark lee hard thoughts #mark lee hard hours

[spaghettiposts]

Picture to Burn

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summery: You should've known better than to fall for Cairo, your friend who seemed to have no interest in you, but it only takes one drink to mess things up and get you into her bed.

Warnings: Attempts at writing, angst, miscommunication, slight sexual content, underage drinking, Miller being an inconvenience, and heartbreak

Word count: 3.3k yikes

A/n: Hm, not sure how I feel about this one but its been sitting in my drafts long enough, might need a part 2...

“What do you look for in an ideal partner?” Cairo furrowed her eyebrows, her pencil caught between her lips. Your question threw her off track, and she grumbled softly as she erased a mistake. She glanced up at you, annoyed by your upside-down gaze and the way your lips quirked.  

“Someone who doesn’t have a camera hanging around their neck all the time.” She retorted, eyes drifting back down to her notes. 

You perked up, grasping the camera that was indeed resting on your neck. “Seriously?” You scoffed, settling back into the blanket. 

Cairo smirked behind her pages, taking full satisfaction in your crestfallen demeanor. “Oh, and people who aren’t into Marvel.” She added, chuckling at your deadpan reaction.

Assuming the conversation was over, she resumed writing, scribbling random thoughts only to look away and meet your raised brow, tied with an expectant look. God you had to be needy. With a heavy sigh, she shut her book. Typical, you rarely gave her time to properly invest in her writing. 

“Fine…I guess for them to make a good income? You know, enough to support me and my writing. Or at least put up with it.” Cairo explained with a shrug, nose scrunching at the way your eyes softened. Ignoring it, she pointed to you with her pen, hitting your nose, “And you are ten grand in debt, unfortunately missing the cut, so sorry.” She said with a faux pout. 

Once again, you scoffed, pushing her away and murmuring about how unserious she could be. Cairo fell back on the blanket with a laugh, feeling anything but apologetic, though your smile gave you away. 

As you reached into your bag for your notebook, Cairo assumed she might finally get some writing done. Quiet time was her favorite time with you - if you had to be there, which she preferred if you weren’t, totally. Either way, the sound of you fiddling with your camera grounded her; enough so she could focus on her work again. 

Initially, Cairo found certain quirks about you irritating, but as she spent more time with you, she began to see them in a new light. The small curses that left your lips when your camera wasn’t working properly, the spontaneous photos you snapped of Cairo - they became endearing rather than bothersome. And above all, your unwavering support and genuine admiration for her writing. Something Cairo needed more than she’d ever admit. 

With each word of encouragement and every heartfelt compliment, Cairo's heart swelled, in a dreadful way. It was more than admiration or appreciation; it was something more, a feeling she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she tried.

Though she continued to brush off your advances and maintain a facade of indifference, yet Cairo couldn't ignore you whenever your eyes met hers, the way your smile seemed reserved for her alone.

Yes, you were her friend, but that was all. Nothing was worth the risk of ruining things now. Especially if you didn’t truly mean what you spoke.

“Have you read anything new lately?” You asked, your back hunched over as you picked with the old thing. Honestly, Cairo couldn’t see why you still put up with it, the damn thing broke all the time. But still, it was a classic model from the 50s, an heirloom from your grandfather, which she could respect. 

Her hand reached over and shoved at your back, smiling in satisfaction when you straighten your back, shooting a glare in her direction. 

“I finished Lolita, it was on Miller's list for its themes of controversy. I wouldn’t read it again though.” She mumbled, “I did pick up this new book called Rebecca, it’s allegedly a psychological thriller but what’s so dark about being haunted by your partner's ex?”

You scoffed, doodling some part of the camera in your journal, “A lot.” 

“Doesn’t seem too bad, I mean they’re dead right? Can’t do anything.” 

“I wouldn’t risk crossing a paranormal creature like that.” You commented, with a shrug of your shoulders. Cairo hummed, watching you work. When you made no further comments she returned back to her notebook, spending the hour before class working separately. 

—

Despite Mr. Miller's evident excitement towards writings of controversy, apparently, that wasn’t the case with Cairo. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake but a mistake she assumed a man like him would love. How wrong was she? 

A student longing for their middle-aged professor was where the line was drawn. The hypocrisy of it all made Cairo want to laugh, who was he to dismiss her paper that way? She knows the other students, the other students who wrote worse. The book Miller had them read was even worse. 

But no, what was done was done. And now she was convinced Miller thought she was coming onto her, just what she needed. Cairo wouldn’t be surprised if he reported her and there was suddenly a new switch in teachers. As annoying as that’d be, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Instead of a clear schedule, there was now an overdue assignment, dragging her grade down that she had to redo. All. Over. Again. 

Oh how she wanted to scream at that, a relaxing week gone. 

“Stupid fucking Miller…” Cairo muttered, walking with haste to her car. Once inside she slammed the door, pressing her head against the wheel. A knock on her window startled the girl, causing her to look up with a huff, her eyes widening once she realizes who it is.

“Are you alright?” You ask, waiting for her to roll down the window. She does just that, wiping her face with her arm. Was she crying? “You look…off.” Typically your way of saying she looked like shit. Mascara smeared and all she couldn’t blame you. 

Deciding not to answer your question, Cairo motions to the passenger seat, tossing her bag carelessly into the back seat.  “Get in.” 

“But I already have a ride-“

“And I’m offering…just come inside.” She grits between her teeth, letting out an impatient sigh. She doesn’t know why she needs you in the car with her but doesn’t give herself time to dwell on it, when you’re slipping into the seat next to her. 

Your posture is tense and that bothers her. She didn’t mean to come off…abrasive. Taking her eyes off yours, she starts the car, preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. You quickly buckle yourself in without another word. 

The car ride could’ve been more comfortable, which usually it was but your consistent nervous tapping was starting to bother the brunette. Wordlessly she threw her stapled papers in your lap, you opened your mouth to speak but Cairo beat you to it, mumbling a small ‘read it’.

You flipped through her work carefully and Cairo didn’t have the heart to look at your reaction, not this time. It was different with you judging her work, not that you judged, words of compliments spilled out of your lips every time you did read something of hers, tugging those same old heartstrings Cairo was starting to get sick of. Unlike those other moments, this time, it was different as you flipped silently through her work. Did she really screw it up this bad? 

She heard a hiss leave your lips and if she weren’t driving the car her head would’ve snapped in an instant. Turns out you were only focusing on the grade and notes Miller left, better yet lack of. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, slowly sliding the papers back to her, pursing your lips. Cairo huffed, removing one hand from the steering wheel to snatch them back, throwing them harshly towards the back. 

So, she was in a bad mood. You thought, hands clutching at your knees, swallowing dryly. 

“So?” Cairo asks, her voice on the verge of a shout. 

“Well, it was interesting. I mean I skimmed through it so I don’t know, your writing was good- like always.” You spoke rapidly, a nervous trait. 

“God Y/n, if you thought it was bad you could’ve just said so!” She blurted exasperatedly.

“I don’t! Cairo you know I adore everything you write, this just caught me off guard. Doesn’t mean I like it any less, I promise.” 

A silence loomed over the car, and you shrank into your seat even further if that was even possible. Cairo let out a sigh, losing her grip on the steering wheel. 

“Sorry, I'm just feeling…” Cairo's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t want to fight, not again. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest every time she saw that deflated look on your face. She couldn’t keep pushing you away, that wasn’t fair. But she also couldn’t shake that feeling of uncertainty she felt around you, about what she wanted, when you were what she wanted, “frustrated with this assignment.”

“And that’s okay,” You reassured her, your voice as gentle as ever, as you reached out to take her hand. Cairo’s gaze flickered down to your hands, feeling a mix of comfort and apprehension, before reluctantly allowing them to intertwine, giving you a small squeeze. “I’m here for you if you need me, anytime.” 

Suddenly, the car felt much tighter than before, the lump in her throat growing heavier. She wasn’t sure when her eyes started to water or why your touch felt like a burden, but she knew she couldn’t hold it any longer. It all felt too intimate too quickly. Silently, she withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap oblivious to the hurt expression on your face. 

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the own ache in her chest. 

—

A bright white light blurred endlessly in Cairo's eyes, slow and unresponsive to everything else that wasn’t her assignment. She fought tirelessly at the screen in front of her, the now blank page mocking her to no end. In the midst of it all Cairo recalled how easy her first essay had been to create, only to be dismissed. 

With a huff and slam at her laptop, she tossed the thing aside, landing back on her bed with a grunt. She separates herself from her work, wiping at her burning eyes with her hands. To say Cairo was frustrated was an understatement. After driving around with you for a while she let you go, dropping you off. 

A decision Cairo started to regret. 

Once again, her parents were out of town doing who knows what. It was something Cairo was used to, but it still bothered her more than she’d admit. Some company would be nice, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take rewriting that assignment anyway. 

After mulling it over in her head, she lifted herself up, to open her phone. Her eyes remained locked on your contact, holding a photo of you and Cairo at the library. While Cairo had her nose stuck in a book, you looked at her like she was everything and more. The picture only made her stomach gnaw uneasily, but still, with much hesitance she dialed your number, listening to it ring.

“Hey, can you come over?” 

An astonishing ten minutes was all it took for you to appear at her door. Cairo smiled at you, tugging you in. She noticed you carrying a small plastic bag but didn’t comment on it, dragging you up to her room.

“I brought you something.” You said, softly closing the door behind you. Cairo sat herself on the bed, tilting her head curiously. “A lot of things actually.” 

How Cairo managed to miss the balloon you had brought in with you, reading in big bold letters: ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ was totally behind her. Cairo raised a questioning eyebrow and you explained for her writing losses, and Cairo didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or punch you. 

Fortunately, you reached into the bag before she could consider the latter, pulling out a familiar bottle of scotch that had Cairo’s lips contorted into one of mischief and pleasure. “And I figured you could use a drink, or two.” You muttered thoughtfully, tossing the bottle on her lap. Cairo traced the bottle with her fingers before twisting it open with a ‘pop’.

You moved around the room, searching for glasses you could use. Spotting two clean ones on the dresser you grabbed them, and settled down next to Cairo, leaving a respectable distance between you. Cairo already had her lips on the bottle by the time you poured the drinks and you raised an amused eyebrow, handing her the whiskey-filled shot. She downed it impressively and you attempted to do the same, failing quite miserably when the burn settled. 

Cairo laughed and you settled further into her bed, grumbling embarrassedly. And it had only taken two more shots for you to really feel the effects, and you could tell Cairo was starting to feel them too, a giddy smile plastered on her face that never seemed to leave. Your shoulders untensed noticeably from how serene the air felt, wishing that every moment with Cairo didn’t feel like walking a tightrope. 

Yet there was still something there – a lingering tension of sorts that no matter how hard you tried wouldn’t leave. You assumed Cairo felt the same when you met her eye and a soft smile tugged on her lips, one that you couldn’t help but return.

Time seemed to blur with the buzz of alcohol in your body, everything having been so peacefully quiet till Cairo shifted against the headboard, lips lingering on the bottle. Her gaze met yours and your stomach stirred. Not knowing why, foolishly, you looked away. Never had Cairo looked in your direction with so much fervor, and you’d be damned if she started now, under the influence when she didn’t mean it–couldn’t mean it.

But your heart would always betray you, now more than ever. So when she took another swing, you knew you were a goner by the way her eyes darkened and her teeth shone. Your own eyes remained locked to her lips and you swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race because she was staring back the same way. 

Cairo didn’t seem bothered, chuckling under her breath as she tucked the bottle away, then swiftly advancing on you the next second, giving into what you both so desperately wanted.

She stumbles into your lap messily, thighs encircling your waist and you groan when she squeezes, placing your hands on her thighs to anchor yourself. Cairo took the opportunity to trail kisses down your collarbone, her lips moving frantically, eager to kiss every inch of you. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, trying to block out that part of your mind that tells you, this is wrong.

Cairo stifles a moan when your nails dig into her hips, grounding her and you both shiver at the contact. Your hand slides along her side, encouraging her, and she does just that, moving slowly against your thigh. Then the room changes completely when her noises become louder, and the pit in your stomach grows hotter. And you have to take a moment to separate yourselves, breathing out of sync. 

“What are we doing, Cairo?” You whisper affectedly, rubbing your hands along her inner thighs and Cairo sighs. 

“Whatever you want me to do.” She whispers back in the same tone, bringing your foreheads together. “Guide me.” 

Despite her words, she’s the one to bring your mouths together first. It’s hesitant and slow, and you both sigh. Her hips press harder against you, and you break the kiss with a grunt. “More.” And that’s enough for you to kiss her again, in a much more heated kiss than before.

Your head is spinning in pleasure as Cairo’s hips grind against yours. With shaky hands you squeeze her skin, taking control of her movements and slowing them down. Cairo whines against your lips, begging and you realize you’re completely weak against her and give her what she needs, meeting her thrusts. 

She comes undone on your thighs next, hips spasming, and gasping against your lips as she comes down from her high. Her body goes limp and she falls on your shoulder for support. You press a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back with your hand to soothe her, not really caring if the act is more intimate for whatever this is. 

You switch your positions to lay her to rest on the bed, pressing soft lingering kisses on her face as you do, and she curls in beside you blissfully ignorant to what had happened, and you wonder if she’d still be like this with you if this never did occur. 

Still, you hold her tighter, blinking as the past minutes replayed in your head, trying to make sense of the situation. Your thoughts only come to a halt when Cairo’s lips are back on your neck, and you shake away the goosebumps because you know you can’t do this again without truly knowing. 

“Cairo—what, what did we do? What was this?” Your voice cracks through the silence, a lump forming in your throat. 

“Sex,” Cairo states matter-of-factly, continuing to kiss your neck, but it has your heart dropping to your stomach and suddenly you feel sick. Maybe it was just the alcohol or the heartbreak, or both. Either way, it had you pulling away.

“But did it mean anything?” You ask hesitantly, sitting up next to take her hands off you. Cairo huffs in frustration but doesn’t stray her eyes away from you, the action only making it all the more difficult to ask. “At all—did you feel something?” 

“Baby I felt many things,” She chuckles incredulously, raising an eyebrow.  “What's with all the questions?” 

Her wandering hands make it hard to focus on your words, each touch just a reminder of what you had done just a moment ago. You tentatively take her hands into your own, catching her by surprise. “I just mean- well you’ve never…shown or said you’ve wanted to be with me this way.” 

“Just because I had sex with you doesn’t mean I want to be with you. It’s just sex, Y/n.”

You choke in disbelief, feeling a wave of soberness wash over and you let go of her hands, similarly to how Cairo did earlier.

Not really knowing what to do or say, you shuffle away from her, noticing her torn expression. It hurts you to look at her, so you don’t, choosing to face anything—the ceiling, her vanity. But everything ties back to her, and you hated yourself for allowing this to happen. 

A wave of silence passes you before you have the strength to repeat something, “Right”. You manage to utter, your voice trembling.  

When you make a move to leave, Cairo touches your wrist to stop you and you freeze. “It’s late, and you’re drunk. Stay the night.”

You take a shallow breath, shaking your head in denial. “I don’t think I should.”

“I wasn’t asking.” 

“Of course not.” You mutter, sitting back against the headboard. Cairo doesn’t question the attitude, only sparing a concerned glance before moving off the bed. Her movements are sloppy as she makes her way to the bathroom, holding a new pair of clothes. 

You don’t register when she returns, but it’s long afterward. Neither of you says a word, choosing to settle in silence. There’s a palpable tension when she places a pillow between you, a silent barrier.

You want to scream, to say something, to remind her who initiated it. Tell her that if anything, you should be uncomfortable with her. But that would be a lie. Your head continues to pound throughout the night, and you decide it’s better to sleep it off, unaware of how deeply affected both of you are.

The next day, Cairo wakes up to an empty bed.

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #millers girl

[livefastdriveyoung]

Every team has a first and second driver. It is just that not every driver fulfills the role in the same way.

At Aston Martin we know Fernando is driver one. He is the more experienced driver, and right from the mouth of Lawrence Stroll himself, was brought in to make Lance a better driver so he could one day be the first driver. He does media, he's funny, and he also clearly has a mentor/mentee relationship with Lance.

I call this the mentor/mentee set up

At Mercedes, we know that Lewis is Driver one. Based on titles certainly, age almost definitely, and also because he is Lewis Hamilton. Until February, and even after, when you think Mercedes, you think Lewis. He is their better driver. He won six championships with them. He's stayed longer than most drivers stay on the whole grid. It is his through blood, sweat, and tears. George is the prince, he's set to inherit, potentially (BTW TORGER, I would like a word), and has a lot to live up to. Comparisons are hard, especially when the first driver is Lewis. I think that it's a forced proximity set-up, but they are friendly. Mostly off the track because on track they do not have their greatest moments.

I call this the King/Heir Apparent set up

At Red Bull, we know that Max is Driver one. Aside from the championships, he is just too fast. Every time one of the other drivers who drove alongside him was brought up to Horner or Helmut (YIKES to both), they would compare where they raced to Max. It is unattainable, and isolating. Until Checo. Checo didn't think he was going to be able to drive after BWT. He didn't have a contract, he was a middle of the pack driver, Mexico's son, and his story was supposed to end there. The Red Bull contract was a dream, but for all of the weird behavior some of y'all have with him (again, he's had his problems but the racism and idiot syndrome some apply to him is also NOT OK) he's not an idiot. He knows he's on a limited contract, he knows he's no spring chicken. Hearing him talk about next year, he knows he's very likely out of a contract. But he doesn't let any of this impact his relationship with Max. They are teammates, Checo will do what is best for the team. Max's whole world is predominantly driving. Checo has more of a balance, and in some ways, allows Max to be young.

I call this the Sibling set up.

At Ferrari, Charles LeClerc is Driver one. He is il Predestinato, the second coming, Monaco's prince. He can do no wrong. Carlos Sainz is the second driver. In spite of the fact that he got dropped from the team, in spite of the fact that he has won them two races, he is the one that is being pushed out. But he and Charles are friends, and teammates. They've driven together for several years now. Ultimately, while Carlos has done most of the heavy lifting on his side of the garage in terms of strategy and driving, he is also the one who knows when to walk away from the fight, when to stop letting yourself get hurt by the team that should be defending you. For Charles, Ferrari is a promise to Jules, to his father, to himself. He cannot walk away. In some way, Carlos can. That's why he makes the good second driver. The second in command is the one that sees the whole picture, including the first in command, because they never look at themselves.

I call this the friends/us against the world set up.

At Mclaren, driver one is Lando Norris. An indefinite contract, the sponsors, the adoration, Lando is the golden child. But Oscar is too, sort of. They're both young, both incredibly talented. But they're young. They're doing this together. McLaren went from disaster to top of the pack last season, and they're both on this ride together. I think McLaren is going to do whatever it takes to get Lando his win, but then I think they'll split 50/50. What will happen then, I don't know.

I call this the to soon to tell set up

At Williams, Alex Albon is so clearly driver one. Last year, he scored the majority of the points, they signed him for an extended contract, and they're desperate to keep him for 2026, when the car is supposedly going to be insane. Logan is the second driver. Alex wants to be the mentor, and to some degree he is. But Logan's narrative from last season to this season has shifted dramatically. Less and less people want to see him gone, they like the American. Williams renewed him. Whether because of sponsorship or genuine interest in his improvement, I don't know. But, in the last two races, they have managed to tank Alex's reputation, and boost Logan's. You don't publicly destroy your second driver's confidence, and career potential so publicly and walk away clean. We've seen it with Red Bull and Pierre, and Alex. Both times, those two drivers walked away with insane support. Logan is now receiving the same, but I wonder if it is going to make a difference. I think that Logan talking about what is best for the team is what is keeping him going, but if you watched the newest Team Torque, you can see fatigue and some tension between him and Alex. I don't know if it is jet lag, or work, or stress, or damage to the relationship. But this is a driver relationship on a razor wire.

I call this the Icarus set up

At Alpine, it is Pierre. He gets away with murder, at least by the team. Esteban has certainly mellowed a little, but he calls Pierre out still. However, they are both miserable with the car this year, so I think they are probably commiserating. The fact they can work together after years of rivalry and blatant hurt between the two is interesting. I think that both of these men have racing above all on their heart, and they will do whatever it takes to stay there. So for now, they suffer in the car, and they are colleagues.

I call this the "there's no other choice" set up (aka forced proximity)l

At Visa CashApp, there's currently a power struggle. Daniel is Daniel. He's been second driver for a few years, he's been third driver. He's got the popularity, though it is waning, and more importantly, he's got Christian Horner's support. That, plus the fact that the team talks about Daniel's presence being about helping them improve, makes him sound like first driver. Except, Yuki has been First driver for years. He's the one who stayed through the revolving door of drivers. This is his team. Honda pays the majority of his salary. So when you bring someone in, someone who doesn't even want the seat as much as he wants the Red Bull seat, the seat that should be yours, you're not going to go down without a fight. It creates this weird tension, but then Daniel is like "I know how lucky I am to be here, I'm focused on driving here," and is already being threatened with losing the seat like Nyck was, and Yuki realizes he might never get the Red Bull seat. So you have these two guys who are fighting for the same thing, that doesn't want them.

I call this the Alone Together set up

At Sauber, it is Valtteri. He has won gps, he's former Mercedes, who used to come second usually only to Lewis. He's funny, older, a weirdo that people love and feel they know. Zhou is younger, he's dealing with the pressure of being China's only son, and the higher expectations of him. Valtteri helps keep him young and focused. He's been through the wringer, and he's teaching Zhou that it is not going to be what breaks you.

Also Mentor/Mentee except the mentors are nuts in a different way

I don't know what the hell is going on at Haas.

#f1 #williams racing #logan sargeant #lewis hamilton #alex albon #max verstappen #george russell #checo perez #kick sauber #alpine f1 #visa cashapp racing bulls #red bull racing #valtteri bottas #zhou guanyu #yuki tsunoda #mclaren #lando norris #oscar piastri #aston martin #fernando alonso #lance stroll #ferrari #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #mercedes

[alrtyhoney]

The rundown: You looked like someone Miguel terribly misses– his daughter. (FIRST PART)

Content: Miguel x Daughter!Reader (wc: 1359)

“Have you thought about it already?” 

The girl remains focused on her drawings, doodling away. “About what?” She mumbles a reply, without turning her gaze, still engrossed in her drawings. She knew what he was going to say anyway.

Miguel reaches forward and tenderly tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Your quinceanera, Gab.” He remarks warmly. 

She only laughs in return, shaking her head. It's silly, she thinks to herself. "I'm not even near being fifteen yet!" she protests in between fits of giggles. It occurred to Gabriella that his father had an ulterior motive from the sudden pique of interest in her hobbies and likes; he wasn’t particularly chatty, so the past few weeks had pushed her to finally ask him what he was trying to do. 

She didn’t understand at first. Miguel, very patiently, explained that a quinceanera was a special once-in-a-lifetime event for every girl. It was more than just a birthday celebration, it was an important milestone in her life. But she quickly discouraged the idea, not wanting to think about it so early. They had all of the time in the world, she thought, there was no reason to rush.

“I just want it to be special.” He says, “Your mother would’ve wanted that.” 

“No te preocupes, papá.” She reassures her with a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll make it special.” 

The clip ended, the screen slowly fading until only his reflection remained in the empty frame. All he could see now was a hollow shell of a man looking back at him; his expression blank and unflinching. Miguel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. That scene had etched itself into his mind, burning– mockingly so. 

Nothing could ever fill the hole that his daughter had left in his heart - like when he first held her in his arms so many years ago; her presence still obvious on his chest where her memories had imprinted themselves, a permanent reminder of the loss of a child. He trudged through life with heavy feet and an even heavier heart. 

He wonders if things could’ve been different or if he would always be incapable of keeping people in his life, always slipping from his fingers and out of his grasp.

“You’re watching it again,” Lyla appears on his shoulder, sitting there with her legs crossed. 

“What about it?” 

"That's the fourth time today," She says, her voice laced with a trace of worry that she was quick to try and disguise as part of her normal banter. It had become increasingly clear to her that something was amiss and although she was programmed to know anything, Lyla did not know much about Miguel. 

“What do you want?” 

“An anomaly is spotted in earth-829, a renaissance-like hawk wreaking havoc in a modern museum– yikes.” Lyla briefs him, “Jessica is already on standby.” 

Miguel shakes his head, sighing. “Shouldn’t she be on maternity leave already?” He asks, his suit already appearing and opening a file regarding the mission. A hologram opens in front of him, filling in the details. Vulture. “Tell her to go home. I’ll handle this one.” 

“I think you shouldn’t,” Lyla squeaks with a nervous smile on her face. “Think you really shouldn’t.”

Miguel taunts with an arrogant tilt of his head, matter-of-factly declaring, "And who's the one taking orders here?" His mask then slides firmly into place, and a portal opens beneath his feet as he steps through. Lyla knows too well by now that there isn't any room for negotiation. 

As he stepped into the unfamiliar environment, a chorus of cries and screams greeted him from the running crowd. They pushed each other to safety, a few staying to watch spider-man in action. Miguel sighs, cracking his neck as he prepares himself to step in.

However, he slightly flinches as the said hero narrowly avoids him, crashing into the wall behind him with a loud thud. She quickly scrambled back to her feet, dusting the bits of rubble from her suit. “Hello? Mascot-man? I’m kinda in the middle of something here–” 

“I’ll take it from here, kid.” If it wasn’t for the mask covering his face, his nonchalant tone would betray his expression. It was no surprise to him that someone as young as her had been bitten by a spider like so many others before her, but he knows damn well what awaits for her and that is what troubled him every time. 

“And who are you exactly?” She shouts, running towards the anomaly again. 

Miguel quickly binds the vulture's wings with his webs, allowing you to throw in a few punches before the bird regains its footing and takes off into flight. “I’m from another dimension.”

You audibly gasp, the eyes on your mask widening as you swing around, “I knew dimensions were real!” Completely unfocused, the anomaly narrows his eyes before charging towards you– before you could react to your senses tingling, you were sent tumbling to the ground, near the broken pile of rocks and other rubble. 

Miguel loudly groans, getting a hold of the enemy. “Kid, focus!” He barks out, and you immediately snap back to what you were doing, swinging enthusiastically towards him. 

“How did you do it? I mean– I tried to prove it all my life!” 

“Aren’t you 12?” He scoffs at your statement, clearly not a fan of exaggeration.

“14 – and that’s not the point, mascot-man!” 

The fight went on with you chatting and talking his ear off. Miguel had answered in dismissive grunts and his usual ‘it’s classified.’ remark, but he just couldn’t discourage your eagerness in any way. You had tired him out, more than the anomaly did.

Spider-society, magic watch, many more of you– you’ve basically summed up. 

“You should definitely let me join,” You offered cheerfully, cocking your head and wiggling your foot. The battle had finally come to a close, thanks in part to the arrival of a couple more spider-men who lent an extra hand. You had caught up to Miguel, basically begging him to let you in. “We made a great team back there old man!” 

“Old man?” 

“Okay, sensitive,” You muttered under your breath. “But seriously– I could learn more from you!” 

“Kid, listen–” 

You had cut him off again, seemingly not taking no as an answer as you tried to persuade him again. You continued to babble, not leaving any room for him to interrupt. Miguel rubbed a hand over his face, hidden beneath the fabric of his mask, as he groaned in frustration for what felt like the hundredth time today. His eyebrows furrowed as he listened to you rambling on and on– patience nipping on itself from your lack of understanding with regards to the matter at hand. 

“First off, I did most of the work back there. If it weren’t for me calling for back-up, you could’ve been injured badly. This society isn’t some school club you can just sign yourself in,” He explained, already itching to return and leaving you in the dust. A liability is the last thing he needed. “You don’t have what it takes.”

You throw your head back, groaning. You take your mask off, revealing a busted lip and a frown. “Whatever, your club sounds stupid anyway.” You mumble under your breath, suddenly feeling worn out yourself. Of course what he said had stung– it had taken so much effort to learn how to control your powers over the past two months since you were bitten by that spider. It wasn’t like there was a manual or a book written for freaks that happened to have superhero powers under such circumstances. You had to learn on your own. 

Turning your back on him, you had fully expected him to disappear as well– but, to your surprise, he was totally motionless; a statue in solidarity unable to shift an inch. His stillness made the atmosphere unbearably tense and although you could not bring yourself to look back at him (well, you did call his club stupid.), you sensed his gaze upon you like a heavy weight pushing down on your shoulders. 

“Gabriella?” 

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara x daughter!reader #miguel o'hara angst

[luciddownloading]

Tarot Reading: What Are Their Thoughts and Fantasies Of You? 😍

Hi and welcome or welcome back to my blog for another Tarot reading. I felt called to do a love-based reading, regarding what your person is currently thinking and fantasizing about when it comes to you. Now, you can make this fit into something more platonic if you like and if it resonates. But, I am strongly getting the vibe, for the majority of you, that this will be about romance.

Before I even start, I can already tell that some people who seriously fumbled are coming through. Today's collective message seems to be: they fumbled the bag (aka you) and they know it. It also seems like a lot of my fellow feminines are recognizing their worth and no longer putting up with anything low-vibrational or that doesn't honor them. And I love that for you guys!

Past people will most likely come through, so if you're over it and don't want to hear it, I understand. But, if you need some closure or confirmation or validation of your intuitive hits, then this might be the reading for you! Whatever the case, your free will always matters. Just because I am telling you that someone wants you back or is coming back doesn't mean you're fated or obligated to be with them.

As always, a) this reading is timeless and b) only take what resonates. Pick the picture that you feel most drawn to. It's okay to pick more than one. Then, see what your pile(s) has to say!

PS: I have gotten into the habit of not taking reversals, so I won't be for this reading. That's my preference for now, as it helps me channel more clearly.

PILE 1

PILE 2

PILE 3

PILE 4

PILE 1

Ten of Pentacles

(clarified by: The Hierophant)

Death

(clarified by: Eight of Cups)

The Lovers

(clarified by: Ace of Wands)

Ten of Wands (back of the deck)

Pile 1, this is some heavy duty energy here! Your person, first off, feels like they have a very "head in the clouds" side to them. Fittingly, for this reading and its pictures. Not to say that they can't be grounded because they do have that energy, too. But, they are a MAJOR daydreamer and I think they spend a ton of time thinking about you. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is the channeled song here. "I'm in Heaven! With my boyfriend" Or girlfriend. Whatever applies. That's like their energy toward you. Except I don't think you guys are actually together. So, this Heaven is just in their head.

Oh, but here's the thing: they might actually have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Or a spouse. I feel, for most of you, this third party is a relatively new or not too serious relationship. But, they are TIRED. Very unhappy in it. And I get the vibe that they had an opportunity to choose between you and this other person. And, well, we can see how that ended up! Omg, you know what just came through? Like how, on The Bachelor or some other dating show, the person is picking between two final contestants. And they pick one and hurt the other. But, the joke is on them because that person they let go was so much better or loved them so much. That's how this person feels about you. For some of you, they may even make that analogy in their head and fantasize about picking you instead on their own "dating show". Lol your person has a very colorful imagination!

You know what I also see? Tiffany Pollard, aka New York, aka Mother of Reality TV. The scene where she's rejected in Flavor of Love 2, in the finale, and crying in the limo. But, then, she goes on to get her own dating show and become even more of a star. That's how this person thinks of you. They know they lost somebody amazing, who they see as a real soulmate, all while they're investing their time in... Okay, I don't want to say "the real loser" but that's what this person thinks, deep down, about who they're with. Yikes! They don't actually like them very much. They may have only gotten with them to rebound from you or make you jealous or find some replacement for you. But, you cannot be replaced or duplicated!

Yeah, they actually compare this person a lot to you. They are actually much more attracted to you. Very sexually drawn to you. I am not picking up anything shady right now, as far as them wanting to "step out". But, um, let's just say, when they're with this person, in bed, they're often thinking of you. If you guys have been physical, they definitely replay those memories. I think it's very hard for them because they want to do what's right and they don't want to hurt this person. But, they are not at all over you and, essentially, they wish you were the one by their side.

I have to be honest, though. They pretty much made their own bed. Not just because they didn't pick you but because they are STILL staying stuck in this situation that they don't want to be in. This person really, really idealizes relationships and commitment. I actually get the feeling that they initially idealized this third party and the life they could have with them. Until they got with them and that shattered. But, they still feel a need to stick it out for... reasons. They definitely take a "sunken cost fallacy" approach to relationships, believing that they just can't break up with someone once they've invested time and energy into it.

Your person could have their Sun, Moon or Rising in the signs of Taurus, Gemini or Scorpio. They are this odd mix of flighty and inconsistent yet very rigid. A need to be in control. Maybe this relationship gives them that. If this person isn't with someone, I think this may not be your pile. Because it's such a strong message. You most likely know about it, too, and know it's mostly for show. Your person fantasizes about this perfect relationship they could have with you, instead. It's like every "couple moment" they have with their person, they imagine what it'd be like with you. They feel like you are done with them, though, or wouldn't want them anymore. They could be right! Maybe you've moved on or they're very paranoid about you being with someone else. They could be grieving the loss of this connection heavily, especially if you're the one who walked away.

I do think they'll circle back, in some way, probably when they end this connection with the other person (because I don't see it lasting too long). You've most definitely made a huge impact on them and have made them want to change their old ways. But, will they? Right now, it's very slow progress, if at all. They spend more time daydreaming about being a "better" version of themselves to win you back than actually working on themselves. So, if you take them back, use your discernment. Also, be aware of how much they can build a potential partner up, unrealistically, in their head, to a degree that is impossible for said partner to live up to.

/////////

PILE 2

Queen of Cups

(clarified by: The Moon)

Knight of Swords

(clarified by: Wheel of Fortune)

Ace of Swords

(clarified by: The Chariot)

The Hermit (back of the deck)

Pile 2, your person hardly knows what they're thinking. I get the feeling that they often don't WANT to fantasize about you because, when they do, it's all consuming and overwhelming. I definitely feel like this is a "separation/no contact" situation that your person doesn't know how to navigate. They are all over the place these days and very troubled, no matter how they try to appear on the outside. No matter how they try to fool themselves (and they are experts in self-deception). They are not as okay as they want to come across to others right now.

We have a lot of signs here that they could have personal placements in: Cancer and Pisces as well as any of the Fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) and also the sign of Virgo. This person is being pushed to do some soul searching. "For the first time in their life" is what came through. That might be you or their Guides. But, yeah, this person is STUBBORN and has spent a very, very long time clinging to old ideas and, honestly, their own bullshit. Interestingly, I am not getting a lot of "fantasy" out of this pile. No, your person is being pushed to finally wake the fuck up.

A big message coming through, in regards to you, is that they are finally realizing what they had "wrong" before. But, I put emphasis on "wrong" because that's how they see it, in their black-or-white mind. They are often way too judgmental, too logical and disconnected from their emotions. It's not like they don't have emotions, in spite of how they may act. In fact, I get the vibe that, deep down, they actually don't let anyone see that. Including themselves. You got hurt in the process here because they may have been emotionally unavailable or denied their love for you or played around with your feelings. Whatever it was, it caused this separation that you two are most likely in. And I can see your person taking some real accountability for that. Sorry, Blame It On Me by Akon is your channeled song. So, the lyrics may be a message from your person.

However, I don't think they're truly ready to come forward yet. That pride of theirs is pretty absurd. They are less in ego than they used to be but still approaching things in an ego-based way. They don't want to embarrass themselves, especially if they fear you don't want to talk to them or be with them anymore. Actually, they fantasize about all of the potential outcomes of your next conversation. I think they do that to alleviate their anxiety but it just makes it worse. Even though they can picture you being open and reasonable, they can also picture the conversation going horribly wrong and that kind of shuts them down and makes them want to hide.

I also think they see you as this Queen of Cups figure. So, you may have placements in Water (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces). I think you were very vulnerable and emotionally open with them, last time you talked, and they weren't very sensitive or understanding. They daydream about going back and redoing that conversation, especially since they can actually understand what you were talking about now. They view you as a very spiritual person, most likely because you've discussed it with them. You might have even discussed it in regards to your relationship, as in saying you think they're your twin flame or soulmate or telling them about synchronicities regarding this connection. But, that wasn't something they were equipped to take seriously then.

And I am not saying this person has necessarily grown leaps and bounds since. But, they have started awakening spiritually and you played a major role in that. Maybe they're getting into Tarot readings or astrology for the first time. Something I am getting is that they wish you two were talking so you could teach them about all of what they're (cautiously) exploring. They feel like you have some mysterious wisdom and knowledge that they don't and they're craving access to it. Because they feel like it would give them much needed solutions or answers. They're still approaching it from a more "rational" perspective but they're slowly opening up.

They also dwell a lot on your connection and they, too, might be convinced that you're divine counterparts. I can see someone looking at one of those twin flame communities online and trying to learn more and connect the dots. They are truly just trying to figure out the language you speak. If they still have texts or DM's or emails from you where you communicated your feelings or spiritual insights, they read them a lot. They believe you're psychic (and I do, too!). You somehow have just known certain things about them and it had them SHOOK. It still kind of does. But, I honestly feel like they don't plan on doing much of anything right now. I think they either a) expect you to just use your "mind-reading skills" (their words, not mine) to automatically know what they want from you or b) for the Universe to just magically bring you back to them. They are trying to develop faith in the Universe but aren't recognizing that they still have to make their own choices. They can't hand their free will over, in this regard. Also, just because you already psychically know what's going on with them doesn't mean that they shouldn't take that step and voice their true feelings.

/////////

PILE 3

Six of Pentacles

(clarified by: Two of Cups)

Page of Cups

(clarified by: Three of Cups)

Seven of Pentacles

(clarified by: Knight of Wands)

Eight of Wands (back of the deck)

Pile 3, you have some different vibes than the others. This could be romantic but, for a lot of you, I am feeling like it's more platonic. This is someone who is or was a very close friend. I am getting "best friend breakup" as a message. So, this is very likely someone who was once your bestie but you had a falling out. Maybe you drifted apart but I get the sense that there was some sort of major disagreement or conflict that caused this breakup. In any case, I feel like your person fantasizes a lot about making it better. Making it up to you somehow. I feel like they were the ones in the wrong, in terms of whatever went down. Not to say you're perfect but I think you tried your best. I also think there's some sort of "energetic debt" here, as I call it. It's like you gave and gave so much to this person and their unfair treatment of you makes them feel like they owe you something. It could actually be money. Or maybe they want to help you financially. They also could just owe you some sort of apology or explanation.

Yes, the apology is a big message. Apologize by One Republic may resonate. There is kind of an eagerness from them, too, in this regard. I feel like, without you in their life, things have gotten kind of boring or stale. I will be honest. It feels somewhat like they want you back in their life for their own gain. They felt like they really, really benefited from having you close. So they think and daydream about being close to you again. Things going back to the way they were. Little do they realize that things can't truly go back to how they were then. You aren't the same person you were then. I feel like you may have indulged this person a lot or you were constantly trying to make them happy or comfortable.

Definite people pleaser or overgiver energy coming from you. I always have a pile that I have to give this message to. But, I give it with love. You might have realized that a huge part of this relationship, whatever it was, was built on your kindness and generosity toward them. Because of this, that's a major reason why they're missing you. "Nobody can make me feel the way you do", they think. Well, obviously! There is no one quite like you. BUT, what gives me pause is the question of how much this person actually loves you and how much they just love how you make them feel. With them, there's a thin line between the two and I don't think I am telling you anything you haven't already perceived. I think you know this person's agenda.

That doesn't mean that they don't have real love for you because they actually do. They're just very self-absorbed in how they express it. The connection between you two was also real and went deep. Like, past life connection deep. I think you two shared your emotions with each other in a very vulnerable way. You definitely did, anyway. They did to some extent, actually more with you than they do with others. But, they have a very wounded inner child and they sort of looked to you to provide them with a certain healing, support, or comfort. You made them feel safe, which is why this connection ending was like the rug being pulled from under them. I think you both might have had inner child wounding and maybe saw yourselves in one another in that way. But, you grew and healed greatly. They're not quite there yet.

There is a significant Water emphasis here (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces), so this person could have placements in any of those signs. Their energy is kind of funny. It's sensitive and vulnerable yet closed off. Their ego is like a shield and they keep their defenses high. In some ways, they have tried hard NOT to think about you, in the past, or maybe still do. They try to act like all is well, like they're thriving and have their mind on other things. But, this is not only bullshit. It's a facade of "confidence" to compensate for their immaturity and insecurity. For some of you, this person has tried to emerge from this as "the winner". It's silly for many reasons, especially since you don't even care about that. You're in your own lane but they are trying to barge into yours, while acting like they're not. If this is a former friend, they have taken this breakup as hard as a romantic ending. They treat you like an ex that they loudly claim they're over but think about all the time.

I definitely feel like this has had social ramifications. Like mutual friends have gotten involved. But, while this person may have played the victim, I feel like people from your social circle have either stayed neutral or inevitably took your side. I don't mean to drag this person but they can be exhausting and lack the self-awareness sometimes to know when they're being the asshole, all while pointing the finger at the other person. But, most people have peeped their game. I get the sense, for some of you, that you also kind of broke up with your mutual friends or social scene, too, once things ended with this person. Maybe you feared that they had too much social influence and others would turn on you. But, in actuality, their childishness is making people turn on them.

Best Friend by Doja Cat and Saweetie is coming through. That's how this person idealizes you, which is funny because they're also a low-key to high-key hater of yours, especially these days. You are the one who hyped them up, like that song, and they fed on it. The funny message about this, too, is that Doja and Saweetie were more so performing a best friend bond for the song. If I'm not mistaken, they're cool and they're friends but not actually besties in real life. This person is more so in love with the aesthetic of you as a close friend and the way you made them look good. I get the impression that a lot of you are highly attractive and very charismatic and that's a big reason they kept you around.

Again, not trying to villainize them. It's just that their energy is so... surface level. A bit of depth there but I wouldn't be shocked if they want you back to just show off your bond to your mutual friends again. "Hey, look, the dynamic duo is back!" Obviously, use discernment here, in terms of how genuine they are because I do think they can be super-charming and influence people when they want. They think back a lot to your past social life together. For most of you, it involved partying, going out, drinking. They may look at that time as their "glory days" or even the last period of their "youth". They had less worries and concerns, partly because you were with them. So, they romanticize this period a lot, possibly looking at old pictures or videos on social media regularly. I do think you two had a lot of fun together. You're a blast to be around and their life is significantly less fun without you.

/////////

PILE 4

The Lovers

(clarified by: Queen of Swords)

The Sun

(clarified by: Six of Cups)

Ten of Swords

(clarified by: Page of Pentacles)

Wheel of Fortune (back of the deck)

Pile 4, this isn't just about one person. This is about a few people/handful of people and it is hard to pinpoint it. I wouldn't be surprised if you were drawn to the other piles because they have more specific messages about a certain individual. This is more about a pattern in your life that I feel is highly karmic. I would say that your Guides are drawing attention to it but it's not like you don't know. You are well aware of these patterns and pushing through the effects. Essentially, you are on the healing journey that you were always meant to be on, whether you have just started it, after some difficult relationship experiences, or you are persevering through it.

Something I feel called to say is to please not make excuses for someone or rationalize or romanticize their toxic behavior because you think they're your twin flame. I don't want to be harsh but the truth some of you may be dealing with right now is that a certain someone who you thought was your twin flame really isn't. I don't believe in the "false twin flame" label and this person is likely a very important soul connection. But it doesn't mean they're your twin. It also doesn't mean that you have to sit around, waiting for them to heal or mature or put in effort or commit. You could be selling yourself short by doing so. And hey, don't shoot the messenger! Lol some of you needed to hear that, from your Guides, but some of you have already had this epiphany.

Yeah, I am being redirected from talking about what they're thinking. This is about you! You know why? You have put more than enough effort into disappointing connections in the past. It's time to give that love to yourself! You are being represented as this Queen of Swords (doesn't matter if you're male or female, it's just your energy). You could have your Sun, Moon or Rising in Air: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius. You are definitely feminine while also being shrewd, assertive, and with a savage side. You know how to get a little cutthroat when needed and when to cut people out. Whatever your current love situation is, your Guides trusted and knew that it was only a matter of time before you leveled up and moved on.

I'm hearing Why Should I Be Sad by Britney Spears. An absolute bop! (Her Blackout album is pop perfection, if you didn't already know) Anyway, that's your energy right now. You could cry right now over so-and-so but you've done enough of that. Or maybe you do need a good cry or two still. It's okay! But, I think, even as you're sobbing, in the back of your mind, you know there's only so much time left for that until you bounce back like the bad bitch you are. Your Guides are applauding you and so proud of you. I am getting the message that they never have to do much with you. You don't require a lot of interference. You still need help, of course, but you are so wise and smart and strong that you learn a lot of your lessons on your own, especially in love. You reach your threshold in terms of nonsense in relationships and then you're out. I am also sensing that they do sometimes give you "rude awakenings" (like this reading maybe lol). But, the good thing is that you actually pay attention and learn what you need to, instead of just ignoring or getting defensive at the truth like so many people do.

Yet, you still have a heart and it's complex. I feel like, in spite of that resolve, you might still look back at the past, at people from your past, and idealize the connection or romanticize it. But, then, you come to your senses. It's a cycle and a process, so be compassionate and patient with yourself. And don't try TOO hard to move on or get over someone or you won't be truly dealing with your feelings. Still, you have reached a point where you are definitely through with certain people and where exes, people who were once so appealing, are not nearly as attractive as they once we're. It's like you met them drunk, at a bar at 1 AM, and now you're meeting them again, sober, in the light of day, and they look very different now.

As far as what they're thinking of you? Well, they are pretty scared of coming forward. You have a certain bite when you're displeased that can scare some love interests. But, the ones who are scared are usually the ones who need to be called out or held accountable. Even when you do so graciously or civilly, you can hurt some feelings. But, it's worth it to be honest. I am definitely sensing one or two people from the past, who have put you through plenty of disappointment or heartache, as well as a more recent love interest who you would like to leave in your rear view. But, of course, just take that how it resonates.

You are highly desirable, even though you are seen as intimidating (maybe even because of that, at times), and you have plenty of options. But, I hear you thinking, "Do I, really?" Not out of self-doubt but out of a distaste for those who are coming forward or want to come forward. Again, you are leveling up and don't have the tolerance for what you used to tolerate anymore. I can definitely see a new powerful soulmate connection coming in for you this year. One that will actually be healthy and mutually satisfying. And this will happen because you have released these karmic or stagnant connections. You are making space for someone that will actually be fulfilling.

So, it may be exhausting now but please keep going forward and don't look back. It's time. You gave those past people enough chances. And, yes, they will be absolutely kicking themselves once they realize they have missed their chance. Some are already doing that. Because I am picking up a karmic vibe, they will experience the repercussions of not learning their lesson and growing as well as the intense regret of losing someone as awesome as you.

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile reading #channeled reading #channeled message #channeled song #pick a card #love reading #tarot love reading #pick a picture

[theres-a-body-here]

Yikes I am about to expose myself with this…

Could I get a prompt with an absolutely touch starved (but also incredibly horny) reader and König?

Basically reader is super touch starved and all shy, but is absolutely ready to burst within minutes, but also can’t get enough of this feeling and wants more, eventually getting overstimulated? And König is all shy but obliges? Not self projecting onto reader I promise <3

-Pillow Prince anon (I have more unhinged ones, but let’s start off light…)

König x Male!reader

As you lay naked on the bed, your hard cock throbbing with desire, you couldn't help but feel amused by your predicament. König stood above you, completely clothed in his military gear, looking like he wanted nothing more than to disappear into thin air. His anxiety was palpable as he fidgeted awkwardly, unsure how to proceed.

You decided that it was time for you to take charge since poor König seemed too scared to make any moves. With a nervous smile of your own, you grabbed hold of his wrist and slowly guided his hand towards your twitching member.

As König's trembling hand wrapped around your cock, you let out a soft moan. The sensation sent waves of heat coursing through your body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. Encouraged by your reaction, König slowly began stroking you, his fingers gliding along your length with growing confidence.

You could see the determination in König's eyes now; he wanted to please you, even if it meant stepping outside of his comfort zone.

It was both endearing and incredibly hot to watch him try so hard to give you pleasure.

"Ich.. I don't know if ich am doing zis right," König stammered, his accent thickening under pressure. "Fühlt sich das gut an?"

"Mmmm, yes…" you panted, arching your hips off the mattress as König continued to stroke you. "You're doing great, just keep going."

"Oh Gott, danke," König breathed, visibly relieved by your reassurance. With renewed vigour, he sped up his movements, running his thumb across the sensitive head of your cock.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you brought your own hand to your mouth, biting down on your knuckles to stifle a loud cry of ecstasy. König seemed taken aback by your reaction but didn't stop.

Using one hand to tease the slit of your throbbing erection, he used the other to maintain a steady rhythm along your length.

The stimulation had you reduced to a whiny mess beneath him, unable to control the needy sounds escaping your lips. It was clear that König enjoyed watching you lose control, his breath coming faster as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh God, König! Please...please, please!" you cried out, your words muddled with lust.

In a low, husky voice, he replied, "Schh, alles wird gut sein. Sei still und genieße es."

As if on cue, König picked up speed once again, using his free hand to massage your balls. The combination of sensations proved too much for you to bear, and suddenly, you were arching off the bed as you came violently all over König's.

Panting heavily from exertion, you collapsed onto the bed, feeling spent. König followed suit, lying beside you and using his sticky fingers to rub your chest, spreading your cum across your skin. The coolness of your seed contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from your flushed body, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

Without saying a word, König reached for a nearby towel and gently cleaned up the mess.

Once cleaned up, he moved closer, resting his heavy head on your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist. Despite his initial nervousness, it seemed that König craved you just as much as you craved him.

#cod x male reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #male reader #male!reader #cod mw2 #könig cod #könig x reader #könig x male reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2

[loveephia]

A FOOL FOR YOU | suna rintarō

sypnosis: suna pranks you on april fools day.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, dynamic is inspired by tohru honda and kyo sohma from fruits basket (i miss them 😞), kinda inspired by "cupid" by fifty fifty.

⚠ warning/s: none.

note: yikes. writer's block has been HEAVY on me lately (my way of saying i just didn't have time irl to write). thank you for being patient with me, and enjoy this lil gift!! ;D

"what day is it today?" suna rintarō asks.

you turn your phone on and look at the date. "april first!"

"okay, today is april fools, right? a day where it's okay to joke around?" suna says, putting his walk to a halt. you turn around, confused at the sudden stop. "suna?"

"i like you."

you blink at him. "wait, what—?"

"your eyes are so sparkly that i think i'll go blind from looking for too long. whenever you skip over to greet me every morning, your hair bounces with every step, and i find it so stupidly adorable. your personality is nowhere near mine, yet you stick around and always try to get something out of me."

you're at loss for words, but suna isn't.

he has yet to finish.

"at first, you were very irritating. i thought that you were naïve and a bit of a clutz, which is sorta true," you let out a small "oh" before suna continues. "but you're a hard-working girl. you make an effort every day to keep your friends happy, and you notice the littlest things that upset them." suna leans down, quite close to you.

"you aren't the only one who notices the little things, though." you can't even find a reply, too flustered from the entirety of suna's ramble.

suna's taking in every bit of your expression right now. cheeks and ears burning galore, with a lost little look on your face. just how he wanted.

"hey," he placed a hand on your shoulder, "i hope you remember that it's april fools. so don't take it too seriously."

too.. seriously..

so with a pat goodbye, suna leaves you standing there, absolutely frozen, while he whistles a tune. he practically broke you!

no, you knew suna better than that. you knew he meant every word that fell from his lips.

so with an excited smile, you rush over and catch up to suna, giving him a giant back hug. "that wasn't a very believable prank, suna." you mumbled into his uniform.

suna shrugs half-heartedly, "welp, i tried."

© lowercase intended | loveephia

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x y/n #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq hcs #tooth rotting fluff #hq #haikyū!! #haikyuu anime #haikyuu #suna rintarō #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x y/n #suna x you #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen X HornerDaughter!

Part 6- here’s the LINK to part 5. Thank you for all your support! Only a small chapter, but 100% more coming, just you wait… When Red Bull fail to establish their dominance in Singapore, it seems nobody can get off of Max’s back, despite the fact he’s happy for Carlos and the McLaren boys on the podium. All the doubting gets to his head and in the end there’s only one person he turns to for support. Leni secretly freaks when she realises her and Max keep getting closer… Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24

“But is Max Verstappen really happy for Carlos Sainz, or is that just a cover up?”

“Max- Max how do you feel? Should it have been you up on the podium today?”

“Max how does it feel that the Red Bull dominance has been broken?!”

“We’re sensing some tension lingering around Max Verstappen today in Singapore after he takes 5th place. It was an astonishing race for Carlos, we can’t quite say the same about the man who has been dominating the 2023 season!”

Poor Max. It was no wonder the poor guy just wanted to get out of the media’s eye. He was so happy for his friends on the podium, he was still confident and self-assured, but the media kept portraying him to be some kind of villain that was spiteful for his own close friends. Even Checo, the media harassed to shit, but Max seemed to take the brunt of it.

No matter how happy he was, it wasn’t enough for the press who constantly accused him of being a brat, or pissed off about the race. I was positive there was nothing Max could do to please them, so when he headed back to his hotel in peace, I was disappointed, but not so surprised.

Me on the other hand, after four drinks in I’d twisted my ankle and ended up limping back to my room, the kind receptionist from downstairs offering me an icepack. It was pretty boring sitting alone in my room when everybody else was out, even my whole family was somewhere but I’d drunken too much too quickly and paid for it soon after.

That’s when I thought of Max. He too was in his room, probably asleep after such an exhausting day. In my tipsy mind I lifted my phone up, glancing through our previous texts. I’d not responded to his last message which was just a simple not explanation of why the RB’s didn’t work so well on specific types of circuits. I’d seen him in person and felt too awkward to text when we were in the same proximity.

Snapping a picture of the ice pack over my ankle I sent him a bunch of pissed off emojis, feeling playful.

Leni: don’t drink Prosecco it fucks you over It wasn’t so long later when Max actually responded. I was surprised it was so quick, but god- I wanted him so bad. I felt like having him, especially now, so soon after a break up would be a little sour for everybody around us, never mind that my own dad was his team principle.

Max: wtf Leni how did you manage that, are you ok?

Leni: hahahaha don’t even ask I’m good, are you?

Max: yeah just pissed off with all the media today. I don’t want to see a single person else. I cringed at his words. Yikes. That was my invite gone. Rereading my messaged to make sure they made sense, I sent a simple message of; Leni: I don’t blame you

Max took a while to respond after that. I was actually falling asleep, my eyes feeling heavy until the buzzing of my phone aroused me quicker than I could process.

Max: unless you wanna come chill with for a while “Oh, Max. I don’t know how you deal with them. They make it out like you’re gonna start a war with Carlos just because you didn’t get a podium, once.” I sat on the edge of his bed, continuing to hold the ice pack to my ankle.

“Exactly, and I don’t know why!” He paced from one end of the room to the other. “They like drama.” I pointed out.

“True, but…” Max plopped himself on the hotel bed. “I feel fine for Japan, I’m confident, but when you’ve got millions of people doubting you it gets kinda irritating.” I winced slightly at his words. Max usually didn’t be so open about his feelings with this side of the media, I knew truthfully he never really give two shits what they thought, but when people were constantly at him I was positive he must’ve found it jarring.

“You’ve also got millions supporting you again.” I responded as he smiled gently. “Yeah. I know that.” His voice was gentle, grateful, he sounded humble. It was a side to hum media didn’t like to show, especially in drive to survive.

“I know I will be.” I shrugged, glancing over to see him smiling down to his sweats. It was a miracle to see him something other than jeans. “Thanks, Leni.”

“Or maybe I’ll switch teams completely and start going to the Ferrari garage.” Max threw a pillow at me in response.

“Dick.” I snickered, scooting further up onto the bed to rest against the headboard, besides Max. There was still possibly the largest gap between us that I’d ever witnessed.

“Could you imagine what my dad would say?”

“I don’t think he’d be too happy.” Max smirked. “Neither would I.”

“Really?” I gazed over his expression. He was still smiling, indicating he couldn���t have been too serious. “Yeah, I mean, you’re part of our team. If you’re not there it would be weird.”

Hours passed and soon we’d both retired under the covers, watching the TV in a comfortable silence. The alcohol that once streamed through my body had fallen stagnant and I was feeling more nervous than when I initially arrived into Max’s room. I stole a glance at him, his eyelids were heavy as he watched the movie, something I hadn’t paid attention to in a good hour.

The gap between us had closed slightly, and I felt myself overthinking more and more about how soon it was to be in this position with him. Friends do this, right? As long as there was no physical contact, as bad as I wanted it, it would be fine.

So the minute I felt Max’s hand brush against the bare skin of my elbow I felt myself completely freak, fidgeting my legs and accidentally kicking my bad ankle. “Ow, fuck. I kicked myself.” I pushed myself up, pretending to be completely and utterly blind to how close we were laid previously.

“Are you ok?” Max too, pushed himself up. I pushed the covers off me and glanced at my slightly swollen ankle. “I’m fine, just… hurt.” I winced, lowering it off the side of the bed.

“Oh- you can stay… if you want.” Max muttered, sounding a little nervous. My stomach grew butterflies, my heart felt like it exploded and as badly as I wanted to say yes and jump on him- something was stopping me.

“It’s okay. I better go to bed, thank you though.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“30 seconds down the hall?” I giggled as he shrugged like it was obvious. I realised how rude that sounded, to turn down his offer. “It’s okay, thank you though, Max. I would stay but Blue is there- and if I don’t come back, you know, it looks a little…”

“I get it. Then they all start asking questions.” Max agreed as I offered him another smile. “Yeah. Exactly.” I turned my head a way, hesitating to actually turn around and leave. Max stood besides me at the door and to avoid any other form of intimate interaction I avoided eye contact at all cost.

By the time I’d got back to my bedroom I’d well and truly wanted to top myself. Well done Leni, well fucking done. That could have been one of the most finest moments of my life, not!

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #Max Verstappen x OC #Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter #max verstappen #F1 x reader #f1 x oc

[extrashotodepresso]

Endeavor X Fem!Reader

To Hell With It

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Only , Minors DO NOT INTERACT, sex pollen, unprotected sex (again, don’t do this irl), questionable consent, cringy, office sex

Reblogs and comments always welcome. If you have something hateful to say, keep it to yourself. I write purely for my own enjoyment and post just in the event other people like cliche cringy smut just as much as I do. I know Enji is super shit through most of MHA, and a lot of people just hate on him in general but let’s be real- if we don’t let fantasy characters have redemption arcs, what hope do real people have?

Summary: Enji is hit with a sex pollen quirk and you, his assistant of 5 years decide to help him through it.

“Y/L/N.” The speaker on your desk rang out suddenly, causing you to jump. It was your boss and the nation’s number one hero, Endeavor. “Come to my office. Now.” His voice sounded odd—as clipped and dominant as ever, but obviously different.

He had been strange since returning from today’s patrol, covered in sweat and dashing into his office without so much as a greeting. While he wasn’t typically friendly; he would normally offer you, his head assistant of five years, a casual nod in the least. With a sense of urgency, you rushed away from your desk to go to him.

When you opened the doors to massive office, your eyes were immediately drawn to him. Endeavor was behind his massive mahogany desk, pacing and panting, his hands threading in his hair over and over. He finally stopped as you entered, spreading his arms out on his desk, brooding and clearly tense.

For a moment, you admired the hulk of a man, eyes raking over his broad shoulders and almost 7 foot frame. He was still in costume, though not using his quirk, an unusual sight while in the office. The lack of flames licking across his face made the large scar on his chiseled face stand out even more. Your heart skipped for a moment like a fan struck schoolgirl despite your increasing concern.

“Close the door.” He abruptly commanded you. You obliged, shutting the heavy door as quietly as possible before approaching his desk like a frightened animal.

“Is… everything alright sir?” Your voice was strained, careful.

“I need you to do something for me.” He reached into his desk, pulling out a small red business card. He slapped it down, covering it with his hand and holding it still for a moment before he slid it across the desk, refusing to look you in the eyes. As you got closer to grab the card, you noticed a single bead of sweat roll off his forehead, landing on the wooden surface beneath him with a sizzle. He was quite literally burning up.

You looked at the card with trepidation.

“Call the number. Have them send someone immediately.” You looked down at the card in your hands; it was simply designed, a phone number with ‘Hero Escort Service’ written in bold black ink at the bottom. “Obviously, no one is to know about this.”

“An… escort sir?” You swallowed, not being able to look at him as your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

Over the past five years you had looked after Enji Todoroki. Everything in his life he needed, you provided. You had been the one to arrange the paperwork for his divorce, had made him almost every meal when he needed to eat, arranged meetings with his children who seldom showed, ran all his errands and… you had been stupid enough for fall for him. Not that he had any idea.

He didn’t respond.

“W-why?” You managed to stutter.

“I didn’t call you in here to ask questions.” His voice was uncommonly stern with you. “Just do it (Y/N).” Yikes, he used your first name. A pregnant pause erupted in the room; your mouth feeling dry as you struggled to grasp the concept.

“No.” You managed to say with finality.

“Excuse me?”

“No.” You finally tore your gaze from the card in your hands, looking to Endeavor with pleading eyes. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” The words you wouldn’t speak hung in the air silently… This isn’t like you.

You realized now, that’s exactly why he was asking you. He couldn’t—not with as prideful of a man as he was—debase himself like this. The question was, why was he asking you to?

“(Y/N). I will not tolerate your insubordination in this, or any other matter. Call it.” He lit the flames of his quirk as if to intimidate you. You didn’t falter.

“Something’s wrong.” You said, ignoring his display. You stiffened your posture, staring him down with all the strength you could muster. “I never question you, sir. Just this once, I need to know. Why are you doing this?” He looked you up and down, as if appraising you and there was something behind his eyes that made you tingle. He seemed to consider your question, you could read that he was debating wether or not to disclose something.

“I got hit with a quirk. This is the cure. Handle it or I will find someone who can.”

“What kind of quirk needs…” you trailed off, then, as if against your will your eyes dragged down his body, down his hero suit and you noticed the sizable tent in his pants. “Oh.” You swallowed, though your mouth still felt quite dry. He offered no additional information and for a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the crackling of his quirk’s fire.

You looked at the card again, then turned the phone on his desk to you. He watched you with interested eyes but still said nothing. You dialed something frantically and waited for a response, taking off your suit jacket while you did.

“Yes, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Inform the security team to clear the top floor and enter into lockdown. Yes, just this floor, all other levels are to remain operational.” A pause. “Immediately.” Another pause. “Exactly. Endeavor is not to be disturbed, this is a direct order. Thank you.” You hung up the phone, trying to hide the fact that your hands were shaking.

“What are you doing?” Enji asked with interest and a little frustration. “I thought I told you-“

“You told me to handle it.” You quipped back. “Even if I call now, they’re not going to send someone here in time. These quirks just get worse until you… feel better, right?” You raised a brow. You had learned about sex pollen quirks in school. In most cases, the symptoms just get worse until the individual affected has sex to completion. Trying to fix it themselves wouldn’t even work, which is why there were agencies specially designed for heroes with this type of predicament. But you weren’t going to allow your Endeavor to degrade himself like that.

“… Yes.” He was still panting, looking over your body with a heavy swallow. He must’ve felt worse than you realized, judging off of his tensed muscles and desperate tone in his voice. How long could he possibly hold on? “But I-I can’t- not with you.”

You ignored the fact that that last bit tore your heart into a million pieces. The man you loved was in physical pain, your feelings hardly mattered right now. (Besides, you thought to yourself, given that sentiment this opportunity may never come again.)

“Please, sir…Enji.” At the sound of his name leaving your lips he moaned. “Let me help you.” You began to unbutton your blouse, looking into his eyes as you did. This was in a way embarrassing, would he be able to tell how you felt by looking at you? You chewed the inside of your cheek. You heard a feral sound emit from deep inside him as the opening of your shirt exposed your bra underneath.

“(Y/N).” He said, as if in warning. You finished removing your shirt, allowing it to fall on the floor and slowly began unzipping the back of your skirt.

“I promise, I’ll do everything I can to please you- just… let me help you, Enji.” I’ll do anything, but please don’t let it be someone else. Your skirt fell to the floor and you stepped out of it; leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear, stockings and heels.

He made his way around the table and just as you were reaching for your bra clasp he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“(Y/N).” He growled and the sound made your stomach flip. You looked into his eyes. His eyes were searching yours for any hint of hesitation though he found none. “I- If you stay in here like that I’m not going to control myself and- and I don’t want to hurt you.” The words came out in a broken whisper. He was shaking, clearly holding back his last ounce of self control. “Anyone but you.”

You ignored his plea, instead standing on the toes of your heels as you grabbed his face and gave him a searing kiss.

It was the kiss you had wanted to give him on your very first day. The kiss you had wanted to give him the first time he patted your head and told you you had done a good job. The kiss you had wanted when you saw him sitting alone in his office, staring at his phone with agony on his face as he desperately wished to fix his past. The kiss you had wanted when you were terrified he would be killed by the Nomu, the kiss you had wanted every single day after when you were just happy to see him. Your Hero, your Endeavor, your Enji. You hoped every ounce of that feeling could be transferred via skin, that with the crude brush of your lips he knew what you were desperately trying to say.

The way he returned your kiss you thought he might. You quickly became a clash of tongues and teeth, sloppy unhinged kisses driving you absolutely insane. You managed to pull away for a moment, the two of you panting.

“I promise… I can take it.” You kissed him a little more gently this time, feeling him groan into your mouth. His back shivered as you looped your arms around his chest, gripping for purchase wherever you could find it.

He lifted you off the ground, his tongue probing your mouth desperately as you tried to keep up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moved your grip from his chest to his shoulders, your hands moving over his neck and your fingers in his hair. You bit his lip, pulling it into your mouth with a gentle suck and he stuttered and growled. The violence of the sound shook his body and vibrated yours and you practically purred at the feeling.

“I’m going to destroy you, princess.” He let out in an animalistic warning. He shoved you onto his desk, using his hands to knock everything onto the floor before he pushed you down. You whimpered with the force of it as your head hit the desk, your legs were still wrapped around his waist and he ground himself against you, the bulge in his pants causing enough friction to make you gasp.

He kissed you while your mouth was open, tongue delving into your mouth attempting to swallow you whole. You were the one shaking now, desperate for every bit of what was coming. His lips seared down your throat, he let the flames of his quirk die out and you felt the scratch of his stubble searing your neck and chest as he travelled lower.

He grabbed your bra by the front, causing your back to arch off the desk towards his chest and he used his quirk to singe it off of you, the fabric giving way as he snapped it off your body. The sudden movement stung but you didn’t notice as his mouth hungrily attacked your right breast. His right hand grabbed at your left, massaging the tender flesh as he continued his oral assault. You arched further into him, panting and whimpering pathetically as your legs squeezed him harder.

He left your breast, licking down your stomach, using his hands to spread your legs off him while he lapped at your flesh. He landed a harsh nip at your hip as he kneeled on the ground. You shreiked and felt him smile into your flesh as he continued lower.

“It’s almost like you planned this, princess.” He mumbled into your flesh, his kisses and bites moving across your thighs and toward the apex of them. “It’s like you’re wearing these just for me.”

You knew what he was referring to. The very expensive lingerie set he was ruining was in fact from the Endeavor fan line; you had rushed out to buy them as soon as you saw their release announced and you hated to admit it, but the navy blue lace set was your favorite to wear to work. The thought of dressing for him and having that as a secret not even he knew was a guilty pleasure for you.

“I am.” You managed to gasp out as you felt his thick fingers caress the fabric. “It’s all for- you!” The last admission you might be embarrassed by had your thoughts not been otherwise occupied as he moved your panties to the side and shoved a finger deep into your unprepared hole. “Fuck!”

“Already so wet- what a naughty girl you are for me- if I had known…” whatever else he was about to say was lost as he brought his other hand down to singe off what was remaining of your underwear. The heat on your skin caused you to flinch, the sudden jut of your hips shoving his finger in deeper. Without warning his mouth landed on your clit, beginning an unforgiving assault with his tongue while he curled his finger deep inside you.

You were already close to snapping and he had just gotten started. His tongue felt like heaven, you swore you felt him searing his name into you. You hoped he was. Your hands gathered into his hair, your hips bucking into his face. When he inserted a second finger you looked down, as you noticed his starved eyes searing into you, watching your reactions to him you immediately came, clenching hard around him as you shook with a scream. He pulled back, watching you unravel and drip all over him. Enji let out a dark chuckle.

“Now I see why you told them to empty the entire floor. So loud- am I making you feel good, princess?” You let out a pathetic whimper at the use of the nickname, trying to shake your head yes- god you wished your brain wasn’t so blank, maybe you could tell him—“Well don’t forget, you’re here to please me, princess.” He pulled his pants down, allowing his massive raging red member to spring free. At the sight of it, your eyes widened, you tried pathetically to squirm back- there was no way—“Ah, ah ah-“ he tutted condescendingly. Now standing, he gripped your open thighs and dragged you closer to him, you could feel wetness of your own slick beneath you on the desk spread over your ass. “You promised you could handle it, and good girls don’t break their word.” His smile was dark and you felt your pussy clench at his words.

He held his cock in his hand, pumping it languidly and you wondered if this quirk he had been hit with was even that bad. He had an amazing sense of control-you had always heard that sex quirks made people go into a desperate frenzy, but the only person who seemed affected like that was you.

Enji dragged the underside of his cock along your folds, your poor overstimulated pussy quivered at the sensation.

“Hope you meant it princess- would hate to break my new toy as soon as I got it.” He muttered to himself as he lined up with your opening and began to push inside. “Fuck- (Y/N) you’re so- too- f-fuck-“ he stammered and you saw his control slip for a moment before he rammed himself all the way inside you. You yelped in pain from the suddenness of it, never had you had someone so…

“S’big” you whimpered weakly “S’too big Enji-“

It seemed he didn’t hear you as he began thrusting at an unrelenting speed. His arms braced themselves at your side, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he pounded you without compassion. Even the desk began creaking at the severity at which he was fucking you. He curled his body in closer, intolerably hot breath in your ear as he continued.

He had lost all control. He was grunting and whining and whimpering and repeating your name like a mantra, losing himself completely within you. You couldn’t feel pain anymore, just Enji. His crushing weight on your body, the heat rolling off him in waves, every vein of his cock dragging along your most sensitive spot; he was sending you hurling toward another release at breakneck speed.

“F-f-fuuu-“ you couldn’t even complete a single word. So this is what they meant by fucked dumb, huh? What the fuck had you been missing all this time?

He suddenly pulled out of you, leaving you to pathetically whimper at his absence.

“Enji- please-“ you quietly sobbed out. He grabbed your thighs again, using them to flip you over onto all fours on his desk, forcing your knees beneath you and your ass in the air before he thrust into you again.

“Gonna make you mine-“ he growled, and his voice was all you could hear. “Gonna mark you, gonna fill you up-“ this new angle had him impossibly deeper, you could feel him splitting you completely apart over his length.

“P-pleeease!” You finally managed coherence with a pathetic plea. The sound that came out of him was like a surprised sort of pleasure, like he hadn’t expected you to be so eager at the idea.

“You’d like that slut? Huh? Want me to fill you up with my cum? Hm?” When you didn’t immediately respond, he unleashed a quick but effective slap on your asscheek, forcing your dumbed out brain to process his words.

“Want all of it- please- please daddy~” his hand came up from your thigh and to your throat; not choking you but holding you up and arching your back to him as he turned your face to look at him. He looked into your fucked out eyes, seemingly trying to convey something to you in his stare before he settled on kissing you again.

He dragged his tongue along your lips, continuing his thrusting as he kissed you with a juxtaposed tenderness. You tried your best to kiss him back, but your lips were moving stupidly against his, the angle of your head uncomfortable and your hips doing their best to keep up with him taking up most of your attention. He curled his hand just a bit tighter around your throat and you exploded; flashes of white blinding you as you clamped down on him, your body spasming wildly as you lost yourself in him.

“Fuck- I’m cumming-“ he growled in your mouth as you felt a burning hot release inside you, rope after rope of cum filling you up. He fucked you through it and you felt his essence weeping around his cock and down your slit, collecting on the table below you.

Holy fuck this was glorious.

He didn’t stop kissing you for a moment, if anything he became more impassioned, biting and sucking your lips and tongue as his hips stuttered inside you. Even as his movements slowed, the kiss continued, slowing down but never stopping. When he realized you needed to breathe, he kissed the side of your mouth, your jaw, your back, and finally stilled inside you. You slowly collapsed down onto your forearms before allowing yourself to fully melt onto the table, cheek pressed to the cool surface while you tried to catch your breath.

You felt him soften a bit inside you but he refused to pull out.

You were a panting, drooling, dumb-fucked mess and when you felt him nibble at your ear the sensation distracted you enough to not hear whatever it was he just said.

“Huh?” You managed, dimly. He finally left you, gently rolling you back over to face him and allowing you to lie fucked out on the desk below him.

“How. Long?” This time he punctuated the words with kisses to your cheek and stared in your face waiting for an answer. His hand came up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek gently.

“How long what?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, (Y/N).” He growled and glared down at you. You knew what he was asking but smiled despite yourself as you replied;

“Whatever do you mean Enji?” You chewed your lip, your previous feeling of confidence and ecstasy dissipating rapidly. He refused to repeat himself so the two of you simply stared at one another awkwardly. “I told you, I just wanted to help.” You tried to cover. He had told you before any of this that he wanted it to be anyone but you, how could you possibly admit how you felt now?

“I know you do.” He said, with sudden certainty. “So answer the question before I have to punish you.” His cock twitched against you as if reminding you of his capability to do so. You instinctively bucked into him again, the overstimulation of you both causing the two of you to gasp.

“You know I do what? Enji, I do everything for you. Wouldn’t it make sense for me to help you with this too? Why would there be an ulterior-“

“You love me.” He clarified, not willing to tolerate your stalling anymore. “How. Long.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever. Ironic, really, considering what you had done.

“How long have I been working here?” You cracked a broken smile, feeling utterly pathetic.

“Five years, sixty-one days and fourteen hours.” He answered without hesitation. Your eyes widened as you studied his expression. What had been a stern gaze had become a soft smile, if not a little sad.

“There you have it.” You admitted. You both sat in the pregnant silence for a while.

“To hell with it.” He said, as if he had just decided something. He leaned down and kissed you again, with a gentle tender passion that slowly grew. You eagerly returned the kiss, feeling his length harden against you and his arms creep around your torso.

He pulled you up to a seated position- he picked you up and moved you to the couch in the center of his office. He laid you down gently, reaching over your head, feeling for something through your kiss until you heard a click. He had reclined the futon so it laid flat to give you both more room. You smiled into him, it was weirdly considerate and a little romantic of him.

You pulled at the hem of the top of his costume- wanting there to be nothing between you and he readily obliged. After doing so he brought your legs up over your head and peeled your stockings down one by one. Clearly, he felt the same. He removed those and your heels gently, and your skin prickled at his soft and careful touch.

This was certainly different.

You pulled away from the kiss, suddenly distracted by your own thoughts.

“Wait- I thought- has the quirk not worn off?” You were a little out of breath already again, his tender kisses were dizzying.

“It has.” He returned his lips to yours, slowly moving his hips back to adjust his angle before slowly pushing himself back inside of you. You gasped into his mouth as he began to make actual love to you, your brain slowly losing out to the sensations of pleasure.

“Enji-“ you moaned into his mouth.

“You’re mine now, (Y/N). I’m never letting you go.”

You spent the next several hours having a soft, gentle love making marathon. By the end of it, you simply passed out in his office, you wouldn’t be able to stand anyway.

He sent away for someone else to bring you some clothes; after all his secretary was busy at the moment. She would be for a long time.

#enji x you #enji x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #endeavor x reader #endeavor x you #endeavor smut #sex pollen #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[thecapodomme]

THE MUSE 🎨🖌️

Paired Up: DOM! Trevante Rhodes As Zyair Malloy x SUB! Black Fem/Plus size Reader!

Background Music/ Song Inspired by @kittehkwrites

Word Count: 4,390 (Yikes, but not counting the lyrics)

WARNINGS: Mature Audiences: 18+, Minors DNI -(HEAVY Daddy kink, BDSM, SMUT, SMUT, MORE SMUT! PROFANITY!, Established Relationship, , Some use of AAVE, The N word, light Bondage, Breeding kink, Tease and Denial, Wax play ,Choking, Grabbing, Hair Pulling, spanking, Praise, Smacking of the face ,Fingering (F), unprotected sex , A BIT OF A LONG READ, Some grammatical errors because IDK WTF i'm doing! (Capo say sike..Right now. lol But Im deadass) ... and all over Nastiness. Did I miss anything?

DISCLAIMERS:

-DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK.

-DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Synopsis: In the glitzy world of art and indulgence, Zyair and Y/N reign as the epitome of a power couple, their magnetic connection sizzling with untamed desire. Their love story ignites from the ashes of Zyair's artistic stagnation, sparked by the fateful encounter at a decadent sex party. From that moment, their lives intertwine, fueled by passion and creativity, leaving behind a trail of whispered rumors and envious glances.

As their anniversary dawns, Zyair prepares for his long-awaited art show, his first since meeting Y/N. Yet, his thoughts stray not to the gallery's pristine walls but to the allure of his beloved, whose presence electrifies every inch of his being. The clock ticks away as Zyair's anticipation grows, his yearning for Y/N eclipsing all other distractions as he finally comes home.

But time slips away in the tender embrace of their love, their passion threatening to consume them whole. As the hours blur into a haze of whispered promises and heated caresses, Zyair and Y/N find themselves ensnared in each other's arms, oblivious to the outside world. They are late for the grand affair, yet in the realm of their intimacy, time holds no dominion.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @henneseyhoe @browngirldominion @melaninpov @hwadam-stories @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @westside-rot @tvchi @kittehkwrites @kindofaintrovert

A/N: first off ... I'M RUSTY OK. Also I'm a bit upset because my older brother was like "who writes fan fics anymore they're so passé." 🥹 I said am I not a writer? Did I not get a journalism degree? Did my teachers not push me to do this and saw something? He didn't have anything to say back. But anyway! Is this self indulgent? YES. Are you still going to enjoy it? YES! BRAIN ROT....? YEAH IM GLITCHIN'! Be easy this is my first Fan fic/Smut I'm nervous. I love yall! It's real nasty because... I want him to do this to all of us! Do you hear me?! Slight delay because I was transfixed with the dialogue. I was really trying to get the essence of Zyair. If this gets positive feedback There may be a Prologue, a part 2 , and a part 3 if y'all feelin' this! Like, comment, reblog.... if your heart so desires! 🫶🏽

It's been four years since Zyair's trial, and it was his first art show since then. Mea was long gone and probably still with her pinhead ass husband, and to think he really wanted to like her. He was breathing new life into his art, his name was cleared, and he was getting into his first real relationship. He found his ONE.

 Touring London and France during the summer months. His nights were long, and his days were short. You missed him whenever you hung up from talking with him all night or if he sent you a cute text. You knew he was premiering his new pieces from home tonight, and anything was possible with you on his arm.

Daddy: I'll be home later than usual. The show starts soon. Be dressed, be ready, and wear those heels I like. I'll come to collect you. You've been such a good girl. I can't wait to see you! This tour has been hectic.

You: Yes, Sir! I miss you more. Come home to me. ❤️🥺

Daddy: That's my Big Girl. I'm on the way. 

You gently placed your phone beside the claw foot bathtub on the vanity chair you'd drug over. The plush afghan carpet ruffled as you moved it to where you wanted it. The master bathroom on the first floor was spacious yet cozy.

An open shower in the back is made of dark marble and granite, and Zyair's closet is off to the left, surrounded by suits, ties, and his wardrobe. Although the loft was Gargantuan, unlike most places in Chicago, it had a makeshift industrial vibe that made it mysterious enough, you thought to yourself.

'It really needs a woman's touch.'

Drums and soft piano flooded your ears from the huge vinyl and Bluetooth sound system; you rifled through Zyairs' music collection all day. It was impressive, spanning from 70s soul to 90s R&B, which was very prized to his heart and his favorite genre. As you prepare to get ready as instructed by the love of your life, it always helps soothe your soul and set the mood for a night in the city.

You peeled out of your I murdered my husband's robes, Pinned up your waist-length Goddess locs, and began to run a bubble bath. Candles illuminated the floor, glinting your umber skin into the floor-length mirror beside the vanity.

You carefully sluiced a toe into the roaring torrent to test its temperature. With a satisfied grin, you plunged into its warmth and shut off the water; the suds were cloud-like and steamy, clinging to every part of you, and the scent of damask roses filled the air. Toni's contralto caressed you.

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh Oh-oh oh-ooh Whoa-oh, whoa-oh Oh-oh oh-ooh Baby...

Relaxation couldn't even begin to explain the euphoria encircling you. You've bagged the hottest artist in Chicago, are engaged to be married, and have much to look forward to as you start life with Zyair.

You hum along with the song as you grab your pink African exfoliating net, scrubbing from top to bottom. Occasionally, you slump your hand out to hold your phone in case he calls, or any texts from his art assistant flash across your dimly lit iPhone 15.

Head Bopping along to the beat and your legs kicking water onto the floor as you half danced in the tub. You were so bewitched by your daydreaming and bathtub concert that you couldn't hear a pin drop.

Arriving into the lot and slowly turning the corner, shined chrome and black wheels approached the entrance and parked, with a thud from the door to the Range Rover, where his driver let him off.

Since you been gone I been hanging 'round here lately With my mind messed up

Zyair stepped out of the vehicle in all black as usual; A pin stripped, short sleeved, button down shirt, noir wife beater, Prada slacks, and matching boots.

He quickly approaches the gate to the elevator, which was now broken. He shook his head in annoyance, and a frown curled at his lips when he realized. "Always on some bullshit," he scoffed.

A flick of his wrist, he checked the time. The gold bracelet draped on his wrist, twinkling in the light from the cars going in and out. He began descending up the inside stairwell to the third floor toward the loft.

With solid traces, he rose from the staircase. Slowly, he closed the exit door, hoping you didn't hear it squeaking to lock. Crossing the downstairs living room floor, he passed leather chairs, scattered and unfinished art pieces, and an acrylic-adorned curtain. He crept behind the curtain and into the room.

Jumped in my car Tried to clear my mind, didn't help me I guess I'm all messed up now, baby

His gait was slow yet boisterous. His hand behind his back, and he bounced a little with one foot pointed firmly in front of the other, walking straight and tall. His presence was always known in a room. He held a box of two dozen long-stem roses and a rounded, substantially sized jewelry box.

---

Meanwhile, you'd already gotten out of the tub as the first verse goes into the chorus. The Whirl of the water rushing out of the tub feels loud against the empty room. You check your messages once more and check the time yourself: 8:30 p.m.

As soon as I jumped into my ride Those memories start to play, yeah A song comes on, on the radio And there you are, baby Once again!

Rubbing your body in Fenty butta drop lotion for an unforgivable glow, you look into the long-length mirror to the side of your makeshift vanity.

You pull on your raven-colored thigh-high stockings, bra, and Lacey panties with the corseted back, putting your talons into your mouth as you turn and take in yourself. The finishing touch is a generous dab of merlot lipstick and a flick or two of eyeliner and mascara after setting your foundation.

Nodding as if to say, 'Im that bitch.' You slipped on your coveted Dior patent calfskin sling backs, carefully lifting each foot to get each one on. Admiring your supple breasts, hips, and bountiful assets. From all angles.

It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me And it's all because of you...Hoo!

Zyair's panther-like proximity took you by surprise. He cocked his head to the side while taking in the sight of you setting down his gifts for you on the counter of the bathroom.

You didn't hear him stride up behind you. His hands gliding up your hips, and his luscious beard cuddling into the crook of your neck. Taking in your scent and his full lips, kissing your clavicle.

It made your heart palpitate. You felt his hands snake up past your bra as you relaxed into his embrace, letting your tensions melt into him. That familiar cologne of sandalwood and pimento that you adored wafted into your nasal cavities as his hand gripped your neck ever so gently but slightly, applying pressure.

"You look incredible, Y/N. Stay just like this." Zyair says in his full-bodied baritone, sounding like heaven to you after so long. Nibbling your ear into his mouth with a playful bite.

He was watching you in the mirror, hunched over you a bit as he towered above because of how short you were compared to his six-foot stature, hugging you to his manhood.

Your ass pressed against his inky slacks. You turned around out of his grip and held his high cheekbones into your manicured, blood-red nails, Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as he gripped and massaged your ass from above, making you stand on your tip toes and your breasts heaving into his Adonis-like abdomen.

Since you been gone I keep thinkin' about you, baby It gets me all choked up This heart of mine keeps dreamin' of you And it's crazy, babe

"I missed you. You were gone all month. I thought we'd never have alone time."You sighed into his parted lips, trailing butterfly kisses from the pronounced girth of his neck down to his Aureate-colored chains that sat right on his sternum.

Zyair respired, and his massive pectorals flexed in unison with your smacking lips as you kissed every inch of his chest through his open-collared shirt. Looking at you in the mirror, he stopped your assault of smooches by holding your hand.

"I know I miss you when I'm gone too,Baby girl. A nigga can't stop thinkin' bout you." He gently pulled you towards him, giving you that boyish grin and a flash of those to-die-for ivories as he clasped your lower back.

His bulging frame surrounded you as he stood back with your hand in the air, making you twirl like a Princess.

Before he sat down causally onto the vanity chair and embraced you in a hug between his thighs and a gentle kiss on the forehead, he bent over to grab the things he'd laid on the counter, brandishing them before you. He gave you the rounded jewelry box first.

Sitting back, his posture was relaxed and confident to the side, and his right foot bore the weight as he man spread all alpha, chocolate, and delicious.

You'd think I'd had enough, yeah Soon as I get you out my head I'm in my car again, ooh darling Just one request from the radio I'm back in love, sugar Once again!

"Mmh, Look at you girl. "He breathed in satisfaction, looking as if he could eat you right then and there. His tongue glides over his bottom lip, and his eyes darken with lust. You giggled and rubbed his thigh as you looked into his face. 

You squealed with excitement and vigorously shook the box, dancing in place. "What is it!?" touching it to your ear as if you could guess from the sound.

Zyair huffed a chuckle and looked at you, shaking his head. "You goofy lil' mama." he stroked his hand down his beard while looking at you.

Once you were done playing the guessing game, you unwrapped the thing like it was Christmas and you were the luckiest girl on the planet.

Wrapping paper, bows, and cards with the company name on them flew up in the air and scattered onto the bathroom floor. You got to the gilded piece.

It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me

"You like it, Baby?" Zyair cooed, his voice deepening.

"Baby, I don't need this. I have so much alr- "He stopped you before you finished.

"Nah... nah... this is totally different. Unique even. You've earn't it, haven't you? "He says with a slight Louisiana drawl, his shoulders moving as he laughed.

"Y—You're going to collar me, Daddy? "You flung your hands around his thick neck and embraced him. Your eyes watered from his compassionate actions.

"You're the only one I think about and want to be with. I said why the hell not? " He smiled and played with your hair, twirling it between his nimble fingers.

Zyair took the collar from your hands, holding it carefully in the box. He took out the skinny key and unlocked the seamless hinge to open it. You stood in front of him, back turned toward him so that he could put it around your neck.

His hands gently placed the jewelry around your neck and shut it closed using the same key. Tracing it with his finger and mouthing "Mine" while you both look in the mirror.

You looked into his dark eyes with love, facing him as he leaned in to lick your lips and kiss you.

His fingertips turned white as he gripped onto your curvaceous hips, picked you up, and set you atop the stand-alone double sink vanity. You pull him into you by his belt loop and wrap your thighs around his muscular waist.

And it's all because of you It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy (Like crazy, babe) Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me (Whoa, baby)

The both of you all tongues and slobber each other down until you feel his long fingers curling under the silky crotch of the fabric of your lingerie.

You felt the sting of his teeth latch under your jaw as he bites into your neck. You hiss in want.

"Ahh, Zyair..." You breathe into his neck, rubbing down his back.

"Take this shit off. You ain't gonna need it."

He growled as you heard the sharp rip and crack of the cloth coming away as he tugged them off of your body.

His hands fondle and squeeze you until he finds your clit; your body bows from his encircling rhythm as he massages your nub with the fingertips of his index and middle fingers.

The cold from his ring on that finger makes you tense up and sigh. He licked from head to toe with his enormous tongue covering you.

He stops suddenly at your waist. You whine and squirm, but he's holding your arms above your head and looking straight into your eyes.

He licks his lips and winks at you, curling them in that bad boy fashion as he unbuckles his pants achingly slow with one hand, standing up slowly.

You watch, sitting straight up as he holds you, watching him pull pleasure from your inner depths against with your back against the tile of the wall.

His dick threatened to poke you through his Black and Gold PSD briefs. He moaned as he pressed against you. You moaned and purred back at him.

Here come the strings Then somebody sings Only takes a beat And then it starts killin' me, darling Only takes one note, I tell ya From that radio It's just another lonely love song

"Let me take it out, Daddy... please..." you said through gritted teeth, never breaking eye contact. Your breath hitched in your throat and went dry from his persistent teasing.

"Beg for it, and don't waste no time." He looks down at his growing and tenting hard-on, bites his lip, and raises his brow at you, looking back at you with the same taunting look.

You looked confused and in need as you ached for him. Smirking and pressing his lips to your ear as you struggled.

"Use your words. Or we're going to be late."

You begin to break into a cold sweat as droplets appear on your forehead. Trying to comprehend how to get out of this predicament, you slowly open your mouth to say something.

Still, by that time, Zyair was already bringing you down to your knees and grabbing your Goddess locs while ordering you to keep your hands behind your back.

He didn't hesitate as he stood over you, his slacks and boxers down his muscular physique. All you could do was look up at him, mouth drooling at the sight of him.

"Gon' come over here and Suck me," he said mercilessly in a dangerous tone. His voice echoed through the bathroom and made your chest vibrate. You did what you were told.

The way he only emphasized SUCK with feeling made your lower limbs thump with elation. You were already dripping but tried to hold out.

Your breathing increased with each moment that you realized you weren't filled up with his dick. Veiny, beautiful, and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation.

"Mmh, that's my BIG GIRL. What you gonna do with it?" His moans send you shock waves as he insists on teasing you. You use both hands to wrap them around his thick member not sure if it's a rhetorical question or if he was using it as a mind fuck.

Damn.

Zyair snaps your head back against the marble of the vanity. "I can't hear you, Bitch. "He snarls. "I asked you a question."

You squeal at the force and nearly yell from your tummy. " What Daddy told me to!!!!"

He chuckles that deep, devilish laugh again as he releases your hair. Your breathing becomes even more ragged, and you shudder at the sound. 

Before he's even done, he grabs the back of your head and forces his hard length deep into your throat. The mere shock causes you to sputter and choke.

With no room to run or breathe, he fucked into it, fisting your hair, making you bend over on all fours as he leaned down over you, smacking your ass precisely on your cheek, leaving it fiery, making it ache and jiggle, gripping your supple flesh as he went to trace a finger down your drenched slit at the same time. He moans, watching the recoil.

You gently swayed your hips from side to side as he played in your wetness, not wanting him to stop as you tried to keep up the pace. He was enjoying being sadistic with you, but it was a first that he hadn't been gentle before.

"Take it all, Mama. Don't stop."

Sucking in a sharp breath at your failed attempts to come up for air.

Coaching you as you did so, using your hair like a lever, tugging at it to make you go deeper and deeper by the inch.

Your legs automatically closed onto his wrist as he sucked his fingers and dipped a few inside you, your essence pooling around your opening.

He dipped his middle finger, then the second finger, taking his sweet time alternating. Making you writhe below him. Soaked and needy was the name of the game.

He twisted and pumped his fingers inside, leaving you leaking around them.

You glucked and gagged on his dick and hissed as he inscribed you just enough to make you whine.

Your gurgling and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, and he wouldn't let up. Looking down at you, biting his lip in pure bliss.

"That's it...Just. Like. That." eliciting a low moan from his lips. You looked into his eyes as your eyeliner smeared down your face from the tears. Making it hard for you to see.

The constant smacking, gagging, and slurping made you close your eyes tight.

The twinkling flames of the candles melting onto the floor and his chiseled face coming in and out as you tried to stay alert. The noises turned you on more than the act. Until you felt a welting smack to the face.

"Look at me. I don't want you focusing on nothin' else." his breath shuddered, and he kept up the same pace until he got tired.

You whimpered from the sudden flush of pain. But kept going, your hands still behind your back. His strokes became less frequent as he slowly slid his dick out of your mouth to the tip.

He was done using your mouth for now. Removing his fingers from your pussy, sucking them clean like he hadn't eaten in days, and cupping a hand under your chin as he stood up at his full height, looking intensely into your eyes like he'd never seen you before.

A soft kiss to your mouth, and You popped him out with a plopping noise and began to jerk and stroke him. A chain of spit latched from your crimson lips to his thick manhood.

"Hold that thought, Princess." He smiled as he walked to the other side of the bathroom. You watched, still in the same position he left you, as he gathered up a slow-burning candle from the floor.

Walking back over to you, he tested the temperature on his inner arm. Nodding and pleased with the degree, he approached you.

"Down." He commanded gruffly.

You used your hands to lower yourself onto the floor on your stomach and breathed in nervously as Zyair stood above your head.

Looking up, he looked even more Godly as you viewed his body from this view below.

You settle, and he crouches beginning to pour some wax onto the middle of your back.

You groan in pain, but as the sting settles into a numbing puddle, your senses begin to awaken.

Some beads down into your ass cheek. He waits to pour more onto the back of your neck and shoulders. You flinch with each interaction.

"Mmmh... " You softly moan; you fidget with anticipation of the next drip.

"You Aight Pretty? " He asks.

"Oh, that feels so good. Daddy," your eyes closed, and your mouth slung open.

"It's been a minute." He says with amusement. "I knew you'd like it."

He pours two more burning spots onto your ass cheeks, stands, and blows the candle out, placing it onto the vanity.

Turning his head so as not to blow any ash or soot into your face, and gently pulls you up.

He sat you back into the plush red and gold vanity chair, his lips meeting yours once more, kissing you down your body, and His tongue engraving tiny circles over your neck and down your breasts. slipping off your bra down your shoulders. You trembled from his touch.

His hands cupping one after the other, his skilled tongue lapping and suckling onto each as he goes from one to the other. You groaned as he bit down and tugged with his front teeth.

"Mmh... Fuck.." you shuddered and gasped at him playing with your body in this way.

Suddenly he lifts you up into the air and parts your legs, holding your weight onto his broad shoulders, suckling and licking your clit into his mouth and greedily scooping his tongue over your soaked folds.

Shoving his tongue in between, you yelped from the sudden waves of pleasure hitting you, and just when it started to get good. He denies you yet again.

Sitting you back down in the chair, he pauses as he lifts each leg and purposely slings your thighs over his shoulders.

Anchoring you by holding the chair, leaving wet kisses down your ankles, and spreading your inner thighs to give them some love, too.

Your eyes closed again, and you rubbed the back of his burst fade as you yearned for him to be inside you.

Reaching out to touch his stomach, his dick poking that triangle made between your legs. You subconsciously thought about shoving his dick inside you. But knew better than to try him.

"Oh fuck baby... Please." You tried to stop him from toying with you, but he only glared at you.

"Please, what? PLEASE WHO?" He asked with a flair of arrogance, tipping your chin up.

" ooouuue.. Daddy..." You whispered.

"Yeah, Be a good girl, Y/N, and be still fo' me." With fervor, he lined himself up at your entrance, stroking himself a bit, holding your head from above to make you watch him slide into you.

"Sssss.... Fuck I missed this pussy, and I missed you so much." He entered you tip first. Forcing himself out and plunging in again profoundly, making your head go back.

"Z-ZYAIR!" you cried out in response to his torture.

Repeatedly dipping himself into you again and again… he was halfway in and hadn't even begun to bottom out this time.

He wrapped his large hand around your neck, and both of you groaned in unison. as he made one swift pump into your creamy nectar.

"Mhm, You feel allat baby? "He coaxed.

You grimaced and blurted out, "Fuck, just fuck me....!" you said, almost screaming. You couldn't take much more as you needed him like water.

smugly looking into your soul he swooped up the chair with you in it, and your body went limp as he slammed into you, filling you up like never before. Leaning into you just enough at an easy tilt that was nothing for him.

The man pressed 350 pounds or more, and this was light work. Your walls clenched down in unison with his pounding strokes, your calves flailing out from over his inner elbows but holding you in place just the same while he kept you right where he wanted you by the seat.

A gut-wrenching moan came from the depths of your stomach as you held onto his shoulders; you leaned into him, the chair leaving the floor as he powerfully thrust into you at the same time.

"You so fuckin' pretty like this." He grunted and praised you as all life had left your body, and nothing was left but the room spinning. You gave way to him, and moans started to escape you. 

"Yes, Daddy. Fuck! Daddy! YES," You pleaded and panted in pleasure as he bounced into you non-stop. Through hooded eyes, he watched you getting so close.

Zyair being the pleasure Dom he was is paying attention to how your body heaved and pulsated around him. He slowed, pounded, and roughly used his hips to kiss your cervix as he continued to try to break into your walls.

With calculated potency, he taunted you as you pushed him away, scratching at his abs.

"Na, this is what you wanted, right? Take it," He whispers.

hitting your hands away with one hand. He bucked his hips, going upwards and faster by the second.

In a swift motion he's putting you down on the floor in the chair as your body convulsed in complete surrender.

Your juices gushing in a splash of release. He grunted as your walls cradled his length, still deftly stroking into you, But he wasn't done with you yet.

Zyair moved you from the chair and bent you over in front of him while clutching your neck, his fingers curling on your throat. Dog walking you around the bathroom while pinning your ass to his hips.

He kisses your cheek lovingly as your moans echo throughout the room.

"This shit is mine, Hm?" He asked.

"FUC- FUCK!..."  

Your gaze followed Zyair's as you looked back and moved around the bathroom.

You mewed and tried to hold onto anything your hands could find. Rough, long, and hard thrusts make your thighs quake with ecstasy.

You felt his hard abs and balls hit against your clit as he dug into you. His hands squeezing yours comforted you yet made you weak for him as he took control once more.

The squelching and wetness from you only fueled him as he tried to fuck the shit out of you.

"Look atchu creamin' all down my dick and enjoyin' this shit, little girl."

Your eyes fluttered as his words did something to you. You saw stars behind your eyes as you felt wobbly and tense. Your orgasm growing near.

You found the wall to hold yourself up with, looking out into the living room, your claws digging marks into his palm as you grunted.

He chased you with his own release by going harder, pounding, swiveling his hips, and moving his hand to the back of your head, keeping your makeup-stained cheek pressed against the cool cement of the wall.

"SAY IT! " He hummed in your ear.

"ZYAIR! " You came instantly.

You screamed as you squirted all over the floor of the bathroom, making it hard for both of you to stand. Inaudible cursing and degrading remarks flew from his mouth as he nodded in gratification.

You felt warmth rush over you as he sprayed your walls with his seed. He purposely fucked it into you as you tried to squirm away. Removed his hand from your face to open your ass and watch as he made you take all of his kids.

His strokes slowed as the last of your leaking subsided. Both sigh in relief, Holding you by your hips and kissing over your neck as if he couldn't breathe without you. He smiles, holding you against the wall.

"I guess we're late ain't we." He laughs through a smile, his eyes crinkled at the ends as he looks at you.

"Aht, Aht! Fashionably." You taunted.

"You've been in my collection again?" He says with amusement.

"AND WHAT ABOUT IT!? " you rolled your neck in a comical attitude.

"I told you what that does to me, girl. You know nothing about that. My momma gave me those albums. "

"Let's shower before we miss our anniversary party".

With a hard smack on your ass as he grabs towels from the hooks on the walls running playfully after you, your laughing excitedly getting a head start as the last notes of the song come to a staccato.

So sad So sad, so sad (Sad, darling) So sad, sad love song Ooh, I heard it on the radio last night So sad So sad, so sad (Sad, baby) So sad, sad love song (Ooh) You got me singin' another love song all night, darling...

P/C: If you'd like to be added to my Tag list just say so it's MAD OPEN! i'll be glad to add you. I really do hope ya'll enjoyed it. Lord knows I had a time writing it for ya'll!

Special Shout out and a thank you to: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @melaninpov @browngirldominion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes For bullying me..... (Nah just kiddin!) For making me see this through. all inspirational to me and incredible moots!

#Spotify #trevante x reader #trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes fanfiction #trevante rhodes smut #trevante rhodes fanfic #Trevante x reader #trevante rhodes x you #black fem oc #black writers #thecapodomme #actor smut #black!fem!reader #black fem reader #black actors #black oc #black! #masterlist #trevanterhodesfanfiction #smut #smutty smut smut #smutty #black smut #smut blog

[watchyourbuck]

Oh god okay here we go

Why must I go into heavy detail you ask? Well, I am actually unable to shut up so here it is them 10 TOP “there’s no chance this is a straight friendship” MOMENTS

“You can have my back any day” aka the enemies to lovers speedrun. The immediate feeling we’re supposed to get from the screen is jealousy. Buck is jealous of the new recruit because he’s hot, a medic, a veteran, whatever. I’ll give it to you children, he WAS jealous. But then they go on call and they get into immediate danger bc 911 is a drama and then Eddie’s very keen on being Buck’s partner. Nothing queer til then right? WRONG. Eddie’s line is pretty normal but the way Buck reacts isn’t. I have had my fair share of “huh this person I didn’t like is actually cool” moments but nEVER have I once sucked in a breath, forgot how to blink, rushed in my words OR stared at said person like I’d like for them to be my lover. Three points to Gayfindor.

“Is your son REALLY the reason you don’t date?” This line and the dialogue that follows makes absolutely no sense from the non-queer glass. Alright he asks bc he wants to know why two girls practically launched themselves at him and he declined (such a kind offer lmao) but… why are you standing so close? Why do you bump shoulders with him as you walk? Most importantly, what the FUCK does Eddie’s smirk mean after “they’re not my type either… not anymore.” Idk about you guys but when I’m not on the market I’m actually not in it 😀 and I don’t go around looking at my best friend like I’d consider fucking her (I’m actually kinda yikes about that thought bc she’s like my sister). Bottom line is: if you’re willing to fuck your best friend, there’s attraction. That scenes oozes attraction and I’d be willing to white glove challenge a body language reader.

The Tsunami. YES okay, there are far many moments in between but I also need to make this a somewhat readable list so here we go. We’re gonna pretend for a hot second Buck wants to save his best friend’s son, and not the child that he considers his own bc I’m tired. Let’s skip to the far end of this (be GrAtEfuL I’m skipping the whole sacrifice that this episode entailed. Buck was willing to die, to never sit down again if it meant looking for Chris [& the utter fear he has to face Eddie]. It’s a lot). Now, I do not OWN a child (thank god) but if I did, I wouldn’t be particularly comfortable with a simple friend from work taking care of them. They could be my very best friend from work and I’d still feel a little icky -at least nervous- about it. Yet Eddie not only takes Christopher back A F T E R the tsunami (Chris could’ve died and Eddie is nothing short of apprehensive), but he says ‘there’s no one I trust with my son more than you’. Um. Not his wife. Not his family (CHRIS’ family), not Abuela, not Tia Pepa. Buck. Who he… just met? Surely it isn’t bc he’s uncle buck… I don’t believe even Maddie has said that to Buck, where he’s actually, yknow, UNCLE BUCK. Co-parenting is not something done between a parent and a friend, and I know this shit bc my mom raised me with a few of her friends and guys,,, she never said that to any of them. Also Chris is practically never seen with anyone else from the 188firefam alone.

The Kitchen Scene™️. I have gone on rants about this before but truth be told THIS is the scene that conveys the MOST canonically sexual tension between them. We can joke about it all y’all want but this scene is unhinged. I don’t think Oliver and Ryan were aware that they should’ve been friends in this scene. The way the conversation shifts from apologetic sad puppy eyes to “you’re throwing your punches at the wrong guy” to I CAN TAKE YOU (???) you can what? “Oh you think?” “Oh I know” HELLO? Pls don’t even get me started on how Buck approaches Eddie, the way he’s puffy-chested, his hand on his belt, eyeing him up and down, nearly biting his lip, cocky grin,,,,, explain to me in hetero. I’m waiting😐 guys c’mon exPLAIN IT TO ME IN HETERO. The way Eddie glances to the side bc where’s Chris? And h o w he sips his beer right after, smirking, tiLTING His head. I’m sorry this is not straight in any way. I’m sorry you’re gonna have to accept this.

Clipboard Buck. Alright u got me!!! This one’s a lil silly, but so is my life, so it’s fair game. Clipboard Buck is annoying as fuck, he’s so fucking annoying. The entire firefam picks up on this, no one wants to be around,,,, except Eddie. You could argue that it’s bc he likes him as a friend and he’s just indulging …. 👁️👄👁️ sure but he also hides from Interim Captain Han soooo anyway what’s fun about this is how willing Eddie is to comply with everything he says. He’s basically twirling his hair, kicking his feet, smiling & blushing and “check!” 🧍🏽‍♀️ buck is kinky (that is canon e.g the ring cutter) and he gets high on authority and Eddie does backflips to meet his kinks. Exhibit 5 complete.

The Lawsuit Arc acka the first divorce era😔✊🏼. This one makes me rage a little bit because I get really upset at Buck for acting recklessly. Like baby let yourself HEAL. Anyway,,,, onto what brings us here 🥷🏼. It’s canon that the entire team is mad at Buck, they don’t really wanna bump into him, can’t really speak to him,,, but Eddie? Eddie’s filled with wrath. I cannot stress enough the fact that he uses Chris as an excuse “do you even know how much he misses you? how could you! you’re not here”. The way he expresses himself, and we’re choosing to ignore the fact that he HIMSELF misses Buck,, that’s how you talk to someone who has a responsibility with the child, not the fun coworker that randomly shows up @ your house with pizza every once in a while. “I couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail”. He’s so u p s e t that for the first time they know each other he can’t rely on Buck when he’s hurting and in danger. And pls for the love of Jesus Christ my lord & savior don’t tell me that it’s a 118 thing bc he calls Ronda Rousey to come pick him up 🎅🏻 that grocery store scene is.. interesting.

Eddie Underground. Alright we’re getting serious now guys,,, might as well put on your thinking caps on this one. We all know the story, this isn’t a latest ep recap soooo The wAY Buck’s the ONLY ONE who desperately calls Eddie’s name when he’s fallen underground, amidst the heavy rain and dirt. Listen to me: he starts digging with his hands. With his bare hands I tell you!!!! 😩 Bobby has to physically pull him back as he cries on his lap. Buck is a smart man, he wouldn’t do something that’s completely illogic, he knows he can’t dig him out but he’s so desperate. His voice breaks, he can’t breathe, he becomes impulsive, reckless, impatient. Do I need to remind y’all the reason he wasn’t the one getting strapped to go underground??? “You’re not going down there. So we can have two cut off ropes?” Everyone knows he’s willing to sacrifice his integrity for Eddie bc his life doesn’t make sense without him. “We’ll get him back for you”

The Shooting + “I’ve made u my son’s dad lol”. When Eddie gets shot the world freezes for Buck. He’s left standing there, staring as Eddie’s blood splatters on him. He has to be tackled down. Even then, he’s unable to move, to breathe. He just looks as he bleeds out, and theN he snaps back into reality, bracing himself to go under the truck (foregoing his own trauma - I’ve said this before) and preparing for the amount of strength it’s gonna take to pull him under it. He screams at him to hold on, and later when he manages to pull him inside the truck he tells him he needs him to hang on. He rips his uniform open, he cries and screams,,, then Eddie wakes up, and he asks BUCK if HES okay. Bc he saw blood :( also as @butraura pointed out, he can’t die if Buck’s dying bc what about Chris? He only lets himself drift off when he knows Buck’s okay. Then we got The Will Reveal™️ also so unhinged. “You knew I wouldn’t turn it down” right what is this guys??? That was a year ago. He added him to his will A yEaR aGo. Idk about y’all but I haven’t added my friends to my will😀 also Buck’s the one who tells Chris ??? (I’m being very brief on this subject). Also “Because, Evan” shut up🧎🏽‍♀️

& 10. The Lightning Strike + “She sees me”. I’m doing these together bc I haven’t watched this episodes yet but I’m an addict so I’ve spoiled myself to the brim. The way Eddie screams Buck’s name, the way he saves him, “do more” h e l l o ?? The absolute PAIN in Eddie’s eyes, “you died Buck” “3 minutes and 17 seconds”, “his humor hasn’t changed” & the fact that he listens to Buck on his super genius math theory. And then Buck goes and says “I feel like Natalia sees me” ok. I mean my feelings mean nothing but Eddie’s face ??? That’s a man that knows he’s waited too long.

I rest my case. I’m missing a lot of scenes (like a lot omg Abby comes back, Buck under the Truck, Buck vomiting blood, the Taylor Arc) & y’all can argue in the comments about them, or add shit or try to dismantle mine, honestly the floor is yours idc wHat u do, just know you won’t convince me otherwise 🤸🏽these two are in love & that’s pretty much that on THAT. PERIOD.

#I’m sorry for this long ass post #buddie #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 tv show #buck x eddie #evan buck buckley #buck and eddie #911 abc #buddie drabble #buddie ship #evan buckley x eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #buck/eddie #911 buddie #buddie 911

[a-random-whovian7]

What your favourite Doctor says about you (just like the Master and Companion lists, this is all just jokes and my own terrible takes, absolutely no offence intended towards anyone). This is gonna be a long one, so good luck:

One (I think):

Is somehow able to sit through The Keys of Marinus whilst completely sober. Their feelings on Twice Upon a Time completely depend on whether they are able to accept that TV shows made in the 1960s will inevitably have some outdated bits or not. Loves slow-burners and less science-heavy stories, and wishes the Doctor would go back to trolling his companions again. Prays every night for The Celestial Toymaker and Marco Polo to be found. Hates the Timeless Child with a burning passion.

Two:

Two fans deserve a lot better. Despite a large chunk of their era being limited to surviving audio, PowerPoint presentations telesnaps and the, er, mixed bag of animated reconstructions, they still contribute a lot to the discussion of Classic Who and are usually well versed in the lore of the EU. 2nd Doctor fans are remarkable, as they are able to get along with pretty much every other group of fans. However, there is plenty of infighting thanks to the UNIT dating controversy and which story should be reconstructed next. If they ship Two/Jamie, they have fully earned your love and are surprisingly good if you pass them the aux.

Three:

Pretty much blows a gasket whenever some idiot says that the modern era is 'too political'. Like, I'm sorry, but was the "England for the English" scene in the Claws of Axos a little too subtle for you? Were Malcolm Hulke's scripts absolutely apolitical in your eyes? Does the mere existence of The Green Death mean nothing to you?! Oh, well maybe you should try WATCHING THE SHOW and DOING YOUR RESEARCH before you start claiming that it's become 'tOo pOLiTiCaL' because the main characters aren't always played by Whiteguy McStraight now, shouldn't you?! YOU AND YOUR MEDIOCRE OPINION SHALL COWER BEFORE MY KNOWLEDGE OF THE THIRD DOCTOR'S ERA AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!

It is for this very reason that 3rd Doctor fans get along particularly well with 13th Doctor fans. Perfectly nice people with a great sense of humour and an excellent taste in episodes, unless a conversation resembling the above occurs, at which point you will see how much damage the repressed urge to do Venusian Akido can do. Refuses to admit that The Ambassadors of Death is two episodes too long.

Four:

Either a child of the 70s or chaos incarnate. Yes, 4 is pretty much the universally recognised Doctor, but that doesn't stop him from being one of the most unhinged Doctors. Loves more gothic horror-themed episodes and can ignore the somewhat questionable production qualities of early Baker stories. They have almost certainly attempted to make The Scarf at one point; whether they were successful or not entirely depends on their talent for knitting. Is surprisingly ok with admitting that Tom Baker stayed for a little too long and that his later seasons were a little underwhelming. Hasn't stopped them from watching every version of Shada though.

Five:

The tired parental figure of any group they are in. They immediately related to this Doctor when they saw 5 trying to hold it together whilst his multiple adopted humans argued, whined and got themselves trapped on doomed freighter ships. Has tried to play cricket once, but a general confusion over the rules and a few broken windows stopped that. You can take care of the cinnamon roll that is the standard 5 fan by providing them with cups of tea, giving them lots of hugs and removing all copies of Time Flight from your house.

Six:

Best fashion sense out of all the fans... somehow. Their favourite episodes are usually Vengeance on Varos or Revelation of the Daleks (both bangers), although they lean more heavily towards EU and Big Finish material, where the stories are more consistent and the costumes are less yikes. Either the best or worst fan to be around, either giving fair balanced views on the show or just being an absolute arse. Loves cats. Hates Michael Grade. Kind of ambivalent towards Mel.

Seven:

If 2nd Doctor fans are well versed in the EU lore, then these individuals are fucking academics. Constantly annoyed that 7 had two of the best seasons of Classic Who and was the darkest Doctor but is only remembered for Time and the Rani for some reason. Their favourite companion will always be Ace, which is what motivated them to watch Power of the Doctor. Usually excellent taste in stories, but is completely capable of dragging you to the depths of the EU. Wishes the Doctor would commit a few more genocides. Their religious beliefs can be summarised in the phrase "Cartmel Master Plan". Still annoyed that the most strategic Doctor was killed by the two most American things (guns and bad healthcare), but gets along well with 8 fans despite that. Somehow understands Ghost Light after just 3 rewatches.

Eight:

Big Finish fan. Basically willing to explain the entire plot of Dark Eyes if you ask them. Thinks the TV Movie is just OK, and has rewatched Night of the Doctor too many times to count. Loves a sad boy, and has definitely referred to 8 as a "poor little meow meow" at some point. Wishes 8's TARDIS interior was still intact and that he'll get his own live action series. Had an actual heart attack when he appeared in Power of the Doctor. Usually a bisexual from my personal experience, and looking at Paul McGann in the 90s, I can see why.

War (or is it Nine?):

We're stepping into the depths of the Moffat cult with this one. Wants a more traumatised Doctor, and kind of wishes we saw more of the Time War beyond the laser battle in Day of the Doctor. Content to sit back and watch due to the fact that the War Doctor had the perfect arc in his one episode, although they are happy that the War Doctor still pops up in the EU. Bridging the gap between the modern and classic series means they get along well with everyone except Shalka fans.

Nine (the Curse of Fatal Death one):

Does this one count? Just loves the classic series. Still praying for Joanna Lumley as the Doctor. Nowhere near as obnoxious as the Shalka fans and surprisingly funny.

Nine (the Scream of the Shalka one):

They pride themselves on being 'against the trend' and being fans of an overlooked bit of Doctor Who history. Doesn't quite realise that Scream of the Shalka was basically an B-tier Big Finish story with janky animation. Wants Richard E Grant to show up again. Constantly attempting to upset Eccleston and Hurt fans, only to get angry when everyone forgets Scream of the Shalka existed. They definitely listen to Weezer.

Ten, no, another Nine (the Eccleston one):

The word "fantastic" is permanently superglued to their vocabulary, and yet it never gets old. Owns a leather jacket too. Wishes that the BBC hadn't been stupid and Eccleston had stayed on for another series, but doesn't hold it against Tennant. Knows the Daleks were at their best in S1. Really wants the Reapers to return, and was utterly distraught after Chibs kind of ruined 9's role in the wider arc by blowing up Gallifrey again. Major nostalgia for the 2000s with this one, and is slowly becoming a member of the Big Finish cult thanks to Eccleston's return. Understandably forgot Adam was a thing. Both loves and hates John Barrowman.

Ten? Eleven? Ten and a half? The Tennant one. I hate numbers:

Their first experience to Doctor Who was during the golden age- wait, no, sorry, the RTD cult has threatened to terminate my membership if I'm not honest with this one.

Either a child of the 2000s, a member of the aforementioned RTD cult or someone who just likes the show to be more emotionally resonant. Well, that or they are the blandest person alive. If they acknowledge how good 10's arc was in terms of deconstructing the Doctor and setting up his fall from grace via misplaced attachments and vanity, then absolutely someone to be around. If they simply say "because he was popular", definitely bland. We all know Tennant was popular, it's still not one of the many valid reasons to love him. They have an easygoing relationship with 4 and 11 fans, and otherwise OK relations with the rest of Doctors fan groups, although there is a bit of friction between 13 stans due to 10 being dragged into a lot of 13's media post-2020 to boost ratings. They didn't like it because it cheapned 10's return and era whilst also overshadowing 13. 13 stans didn't like it because it basically gave the message that the BBC had given up on 13 before her era had finished.

Definitely excited for the 60th after the regeneration and the announcement of RTD's return. Has tried owning a pair of converses, only to find out that they aren't exactly cheap. Has fought for the Ten/Rose ship on multiple occasions. Tried hair gel once, with disastrous consequences.

Huh. This one was incredibly easy to write. All I had to do was look in a mirror.

Thirte- no, Eleven:

Major ADHD energy in the best possible way. Saw the chaotic excitable Doctor and immediately fell in love. They will not rest until they have forced every former Doctor to read the "Hello Stonehenge" speech. They have also cosplayed the most out of any fan, due to the availability of fezzes and bow ties. Definitely the most fun to be around at a party. Was disappointed by Matt Smith's decision not to return for the 60th, especially after the absolute banger that was Day of the Doctor. If they ship 11 with River, they're cool, even though 11 was very asexual in S5. If they ship him with anyone else, then yikes. Wishes for the show to return to a quirky fairytale tone again.

If they were present during the SuperWhoLock days, keep an eye on them. You're only one drink away from dragging us back to 2013, and I ain't reading any of that fanfiction again *shudders*.

Fourte- FUCK, Twelve:

A certified member of the Steven Moffat cult, or just someone who likes some of their stories to have a slightly more mature tone. Has tried to play the electric guitar more than once, only to be forced to stop by their partners or housemates. Either willing to admit some of the flaws of the era or strongly defends it, with no inbetween. Absolutely correct in their assertion that S9 and 10 absolutely slapped, although this cam be undermined if they try to defend Sleep No More. If they ship River and 12, then you can trust them with anything, and they will offer you good relationship advice. If they ship 12 and Clara in a romantic way (which is strange to me cos i always got platonic BFF vibes from them, but that's just me), they definitely have relationship advice, although waiting 4 billion years to get your memory wiped is a questionable means of resolving conflict. They have a pair of the sonic sunglasses. Cried when Capaldis majestic floofy hair got shaved off for a superhero film.

Thirteen? That's right? Phew, finally getting the hang of this. Ok, Thirteen:

There are two types of 13 fan. The first is cinnamoniest of rolls. Is just happy to sit back and have fun, thus allowing them to enjoy pretty much any episode (something that a lot of people could learn from). Immediately realised that Jodie is an amazing Doctor and deserves more praise and justice. Definitely shipped Thasmin, and are the best at constructive criticism, recognising what worked and didn't in a respectful, polite way (again, something we could all learn from). Wierdly enough, they get along well with all the Doctor fans, as they are a wholesome ray of sunshine that reminds us that every era has something to offer, no matter the general consensus.

The second type masquerades as the first, but gets all hipster-y and more than willing to use the term 'overrated' when RTD or Tennant are mentioned (so basically a healthy 80% of the #antiRTD tag).

Both are convinced that the Chibnall Era will receive a massive reappraisal like the 12th Doctor's era did, despite the odds of that happening being the same as an on-screen Thasmin kiss. I'm so sorry, that's a really mean line to end this bit on. Let's instead end by saying Haunting of Villa Diodati is an absolute banger of an episode.

Ruth:

Loves the admittedly cool concept of a mystery incarnation. The rest depends on their theory of where the Ruth Doctor fits in. If they use the season 6B theory, then they have an encyclopedic knowledge of the classical series and the EU regardless of whether they have watched it or not. If they use the Timeless Child/Division theory, then they basically settled for the easier version of 6B after looking into the insane asylum that is classic who and EU discourse (wise choice). If they think she's from an alternative universe, thinks that she's Omega, Rassilon, The Rani, The Master or any other figure, then they practically have a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. Either way, all of them don't like to admit that they are unfortunately limited to 4 episodes (three of them being fairly mid, the other being a mild car crash) and a pretty good comic. Cool fashion taste. Gets along with 13 stans and, surprisingly, 2nd Doctor fans.

Fourteen- oh for fucks sake:

YOU ARE TENTH DOCTOR FANS. GO BACK TO EARLIER ON IN THE POST. YES, I KNOW THAT'S THE BBC'S OFFICIAL LINE AT THE MOMENT. YES, I KNOW YOU'RE HYPED FOR THE 60TH, I AM A HYPED RTD CULTIST TOO. JUST WAIT UNTIL SEPTEMBER. P L E A S E.

Fourt- no fifteen- no, fourteen- BBC, HAVE MERCY:

Only in the Doctor Who fandom can a Doctor who has only appeared in a brief clip and some photos have a fully developed fanbase. I should know, I've already joined it. Ncuti's photos in that suit sealed the deal. Either an RTD cultist or someone just looking forward to a fresh new direction. Also very fashionable. Has a somewhat complicated relationship with 13th Doctor fans due to the fact that Ncuti's first season and casting completely overshadowed S13 and the specials, but Ncuti also had to deal with the same levels of toxicity from the same 'fans' who threw temper tantrums at Jodie's casting in 2017. Best haircuts out of all the Doctor Who fans. Strange but true.

Full Fathom Five:

Y'all scare me.

Zagreus:

Y'all terrify me.

The Watcher:

Y'all confuse me.

The Valeyard:

Has wanted a darker series since god knows when. Was kind of annoyed when the Time Lord Victorious arc wasn't dedicated to a whole series. Also, the Valeyard is the Shadow the Hedgehog of the Whoniverse. I refuse to elaborate any further.

The Curator:

"Alright gang, let's see who the Curator fans really are!"

Pulls off mask

"Fourth Doctor fans?!"

All jokes aside, they just want a more experienced Doctor. Accepts that the show will have to end one day, and is cool with that, since they already have the perfect ending. Either cool grandad vibes or an actual grandad. Good knitwear. Their response to everything is simply putting the kettle on.

Doctor Moon:

Now these ones are very, very rare. I personally love the theory that Doctor Moon is a future version of the Doctor who is keeping River and the Library safe, but limiting your favourite Doctor to two episodes and an endorsement of the theory from Steven Moffat? Now that takes guts, and I like it. Usually partial to classy clothes, and talks in a very formal tone. Their best subject is usually maths.

Dr Who (Peter Cushing):

Unashamedly insane. Saw the absolutely glorious cheese-fest that was the 1960s Dalek movies and ended up loving one of the most unique versions of the Doctor. Is absolutely fine with bypassing 90% of the TV shows lore, making them really fun to talk to. Time Lords? Nah. Sonic screwdriver? Nope. Their Doctor is a wacky grandpa who built a multi-dimensional time machine in their back garden, and they love it. Is a sucker for Alternate Universe stories and usually loves classic B-movies. Knows that the movies kind of suck as adaptations, but as pure 1960s camp, they are unbeatable. Absolute legends.

All of Them:

The glue that holds this fanbase together. Enlightened individuals who have to check in every now and then to make sure that we mere mortals are behaving ourselves. They just simply enjoy the show and hold no biases. Absolutely infuriating to talk to for that very reason.

#doctor who #1st doctor #2nd doctor #3rd doctor #4th doctor #5th doctor #6th doctor #7th doctor #8th doctor #9th doctor #10th doctor #11th doctor #12th doctor #13th doctor #14th doctor #15th doctor #war doctor #rtd #moffat era #chibnall era #classic dw #nu who #doctor who eu #doctor who meta #doctor who funny #dr who and the daleks #doccy who #doctor who 60th anniversary #ruth doctor #fugitive doctor

[solverse]

Miscellaneous Stroll. (i)

Quo; A scenario for Genshin characters! (SAGAU)

Characters; Al-Haitham, Cyno, Candace, Dehya, Nilou, Collei, Faruzan, Tighnari, Kaveh and Nahida.

Notes; Just a little something I wanted to post since this has been in my draft for quite some time.

Disc; Not a character study whatsoever. Just a self-indulgent piece.

The Creator/Guide is named Raphael.

[Miscellanous Stroll] ( ii )

Today was a good day. It was a really nice day with the beaming sunshine, the cool breeze accompanying them, the refreshing taste of the beverages, and delicious snacks occupying their taste buds. The ambient sound of peace, the gentle flow of leylines, chatters of birds along the trees. Surely, this was a–

“ SON OF A BITCH! ” 

–good day. 

“ OH, IT'S ON! ” The shrieking yell of Cyno's voice echoed through the space and Raphael smiled away that incoming headache knocking at their door like a bad tinder hook-up at 3 a.m.

Nilou eyed the general with a worried look, smiling awkwardly as she silently lamented the intense metaphorical fire appearing in his eyes. She fidgeted slightly, blue eyes flickering down anxiously. The object in her hand felt heavy for a moment as her body trembled. 

Faruzan watched her closely before her hand reached out, bringing forth an incoming doom as Kaveh and Collei gasped in shock. Tighnari raised an eyebrow, a neutral on his face. Although, if you look close enough, you can see the man holding back with all his strength. He then turned to Kaveh with a placating look. 

Kaveh blinked out his shock, “ Wow– Oh yikes. We are doing this, huh? ” He grimaced. Cyno's eyes sharpened even further when the blond made his move. The General Mahamatra laced his fingers, glaring at Collei who was starting to sweat anxiously. 

“ Cyno, stop that. ” Tighnari chastised and Cyno only huffed in response, tearing away his gaze as he chose to look somewhere else. Collei swallowed before she reached out to confirm her move. Everyone gaped at her and Dehya started laughing. Candace could barely hide her smile as she continued, gaining even more shocked looks. Cyno clenched his fist. 

All eyes turned to Al-Haitham. The man was in his own thoughts before he glanced at each of them and Raphael could see the gears in his head turned at an impossible speed. He glanced somewhere else before shrugging. 

Faruzan gasped, not able to hide the huge grin on her face. “ No way! ” 

“ Oh, we're continuing?! ” Kaveh laughed in surprise. 

“ Seriously? ” Collei muttered behind her hand, eyes wide. Tighnari snickered in amusement. 

“ Don't you dare. ” Cyno hissed out, holding out a fist as he clenched his jaw. Al-Haitham cocked an eyebrow, halting in his movement. He stared at the general, face serious and blank. Cyno doubled down on his glare. 

Al-Haitham moved very slowly, observing every part of Cyno's reaction. 

“ Do it, do it, do it. ” Dehya chanted with a cheeky grin and Cyno sent an irritated look her way. The mercenary just rolled her eyes, the mischievous smile still on her face. Candace watched with an almost sorry look. 

“ Al-Haitham, I swear– ” 

Al-Haitham did the exact opposite and placed down another 4+ UNO card on the stack of cards. Cyno stared in disbelief while everybody else burst out laughing. Dehya was full-on cackling, leaning against Candace, who was also laughing. 

Nilou was laughing like there was no tomorrow, body trembling as she attempted to stifle her laughter. But one look at the Cyno's face of despair, she failed to do so, joining Faruzan as the two women cracked up.  

Kaveh banged his fist against the table multiple times, burying his face in his hand as he silenced his laugh. Collei gaped with a look of awe at the number of cards Cyno had to take. What was even worse was that Cyno had one card left but now he was holding a whopping 23. 

Cyno, on the other hand, was downright murderous. 

Raphael watched from the side awkwardly, sipping on their tea with a bored look. Nahida happily hummed from the side, a cup of milk tea in her hand. 

“ Oh boy. ” The Guide muttered, sipping their tea as they sweatdropped, trying to ignore the incoming deathmatch. It was just UNO. They did not want to think what would happen if they started playing Monopoly. Oh, the divorce rate will skyrocket. 

Nahida giggled and Raphael huffed, the little gremlin– she knew. 

–

#ITS UNDER 1K LETS GOOOOO #ive ascended #do not let these kids play monopoly #i swear #self aware genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #candace #genshin #tighnari #cyno #alhaitham #nilou #dehya #kaveh #collei #nahida #faruzan

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 20

You thought it would be just another dinner with Santiago, but it doesn't end like you expected it to.

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst. Hurtful words are thrown around. Themes of abandonment. Swearing. Mentions of unsupportive family members. I actually proofread this! But there’s probably still mistakes that I missed 😂. Word count: 3,304 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Part 19 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 21

It was supposed to be a usual dinner with Santiago.

But you knew something was off the moment he opened the door to his apartment, inviting you in. He was tense, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. He wasn’t talking much, and when he did respond to you, you were met with one-word answers, or just a grunt. You tried not to let it get to you, but you felt like you were imposing on his time, despite the fact that he had asked you to dinner.

It was weird. But he had been acting weird for weeks. Maybe it was because you were so close to giving birth. You only had two weeks left, after all, your lives were about to change forever. He even said so himself, he wasn’t ever expecting to have a family of his own. He was happy to just be by himself, so…maybe he was just nervous. There was no need to worry about it, he’d been there the whole time for you.

But it was obvious something was bothering him (and not just tonight, it had been going on for a while), and he felt like he couldn’t tell you, which hurt. You thought you were closer than that. You were supposed to trust each other with anything, since you’re going to be co-parenting. You didn’t want your kids to think that their mom and dad couldn’t talk to each other.

There was no avoiding it, you were going to ask him what was wrong. Tonight.

You make general small talk, which is weird for the two of you. You follow him into his kitchen where he offers you a water (he’s ran out of Diet Coke), and he turns his back to you to the sauce bubbling on the stove. You quietly sip at your drink as you watch him stir. Even now, as he’s just making food, he’s tense; his shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, and he’s holding that spoon just a bit too tightly.

“Santi, is everything okay?” you ask him, already knowing that it wasn’t.

He winces at your voice, almost as if he forgot you were there. He still doesn’t look at you as he answers, “Yeah, everything is fine.”

Fine.

There’s that word again. Every time you ask him if something is going on, it’s always ‘fine’.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think it is, Santi. You’ve been weird for weeks, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he says, finally looking at you with an uneasy look on his face.

“There is, Santi. Come on, you can tell me. We’ve talked about communication – “

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want you to know?”

Yikes, that stung. You blink at him a little, taken aback. “I-I mean, sure, but I just want you to know that you can be open with me and talk to me.”

He studies you for a moment before he shakes his head. “I can’t talk to you about this.”

He turns back to the sauce.

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t the right time.”

You frown at him and place your glass on the counter. You fold your arms as you watch him for a few moments. The silence in the kitchen weighs heavy before you break it with, “Okay.”

You don’t accept his answer, not one bit.

After a few more awkward minutes, the pasta is ready, and Santi is preparing a plate for you. He asks you shortly if you want cheese, or if you want another drink, and you shake your head at him before following him to his dining table. You sit opposite him, eating slowly as you keep glancing at him.

He’s asking you one-word questions on the food, not meeting your eyes when he does. It makes your heart sink. The last time he acted like this was when he thought you wanted to date and he was holding you back, back when you went shopping for baby clothes together and ran into Craig.

Surely now he still doesn’t think he was holding you back. But then why would he be arguing with his friends over something like that? Why would they even care about it? Unless Santi had told them something, or they have been pressuring him in some way. Why else would he engage in such heated discussions if there wasn't some underlying concern or conflict? The questions swirl in your mind, leaving you to ponder if they are somehow connected to your relationship with Santi, and its impact on yours and your babies’ life.

After a few more moments contemplating, you place your fork down before clearing your throat. “Santi, I only want to know what’s bothering you.”

“Por el amor de Dios,” Santi mutters, rolling his eyes as he slams the fork down on the table. He gives you a hard stare. “Just drop it, okay?”

“I don’t want to drop it,” you say, giving him a concerned look and you lean towards him slightly. “I’m worried about you! You’ve been arguing with Frankie and Will, that’s not like you – “

“How would you know, you’ve only known me eight months,” he snaps at you.

You balk at his reaction, leaning back from him. “That’s a long time, Santi, I like to think I know you pretty well.”

“No, eight months is in fact not a long time,” he snapped at you. There are a few moments of silence as you stare at one another, before Santi closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat. He buried his head in his hands, his elbows leaning on the table.

You stare at him for a moment, not sure what to say. You bite your lip and look down at your plate, all of a sudden not even remotely hungry. You look back up at him before going to stand. “I’ll get going, we can catch up again another time, when you’re feeling better.”

He doesn’t say anything to stop you as you gather your things, before you spot something at the end of the corridor. The nursery door, Santi’s old spare room, was slightly open, and you could just see a pile of unopened boxes. Your brow furrows before you glance at Santiago, and suddenly make your way down the hallway.

The calls of your name go ignored as you push open the nursery door, only to find that…it wasn’t ready. Sure, it had been painted like Santiago said it had been, and there was a feature wall of some jungle themed wallpaper, but…that was it. The room was bare. The furniture you had shopped for together was still in the boxes, collecting dust. You looked around the room, sudden tears in your eyes as you take in the fact that the room felt cold, and nowhere near as if a new family would be using it.

You turn quickly to look at Santiago, who had followed you down the hall. He had an exhausted look on his face as he awkwardly tucked his hands into his jean's pockets.

You take in a shaky breath from the tears and look back at the room. “It’s not done.” You look at him, worry sitting densely in your stomach. “It’s not done, Santi. They’re going to be here in two weeks, and you haven’t fixed up their room. Why isn’t it done?”

Santiago doesn’t answer for a moment before he sighs. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

Your heart sinks. You try to regulate your breathing as you turn back and ask him, “Tell me what?”

He sighs before running a hand through his hair, looking at anything but you. He can’t seem to stop fidgeting. “I can’t do this.”

Oh…no.

He can’t mean what you thought, right? He just meant dinner tonight, he couldn’t do dinner. Maybe he wasn’t well and felt bad about cancelling. Yeah, that’s what he meant. It has to be.

But you know, deep down, you were wrong.

You try and play dumb. To give him the chance to take it back, to rethink what he just said, because really, he can’t be saying this to you right now. Not now. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t…do that,” he said, looking back at you with a stern look in his eyes as he shakes his head. “Don’t be an idiot, you know what I mean.”

He’s never been so harsh with you before. You give one final look around the room before squaring your shoulders and turning back to him. “So, what, you…you don’t want to be involved anymore? Is that what you’re saying?”

He hesitates for a moment before giving a single nod.

You can feel the slow anger building in your chest, your skin practically prickling with tension. How could he do this to you, now? The air becomes thick with unspoken words, each heartbeat within you resonates with the weight of the betrayal that has unfolded before you.

As Santiago’s gaze falters and you both just stare at each other with nothing to say, you find yourself grappling with the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you. The trust you once held for him now hangs precariously in the balance, and the echoes of disbelief reverberate through the room.

You had never imagined that this moment would arrive, not now, not at a time when trust and loyalty were vital. You look back on the last few months, trying to see where it had all gone wrong. Was it back when you discussed your dating life? From what you knew, he hadn’t been seeing anyone, seriously or otherwise. Did he feel trapped? Was it the almost kiss on Halloween? No, he started acting weird after Thanksgiving. So what brought him to this conclusion, that he didn’t want to be a father anymore, that you had spent all this time together planning, and working on yourselves and together to become parents? Was it the scare that you’d had?

You loved this man. Loved him. Oh, God, you can feel your heart breaking into a million pieces.

“This just…came at an inconvenient time – “ he starts again, the prolonged silence evidently becoming too much.

Your jaw sets and you glare at him, the bubbling in your chest erupting. “Oh, I'm so sorry, when would this,” you gesture to your bump. “Have been more convenient for you?”

He closes his eyes for a moment in exasperation. “Don’t be like that – “

“Be like what?” you ask, your gaze still hard on him. “Don’t be upset? Don’t be angry? You’ve just told me you don’t want to be a father to our kids anymore! How am I not supposed to be upset?”

“I know it…it’s bad, honey, I know – “

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, you…you…” you gasp as you realise you’re crying. You reach up and touch your cheek, almost as if you’re shocked that you’re crying.

You’d never truly cried over a man before.

But it wasn’t just a man. It was your kids. Your babies, who would be here in two weeks, ones who you had planned a whole life for; to raise them in households full of love and warmth, where you thought their father would be a part of their lives. Where they would have three amazing uncles, who had welcomed you with open arms, who had helped you with your house.

Your heart stutters as you realise; they must have known. They must have known how Santiago was feeling when they organised your baby shower, when they were actually at your baby shower, when you were at Santiago’s place for Christmas…God, you bet they had a good laugh, knowing that you were being strung along. They knew he was planning on leaving you.

“When did…when did you plan to do this? When did you plan to leave me?” you ask him, wiping at your eyes harshly.

He swallows thickly before shaking his head. “I didn’t plan anything. It…look, it’s not important - “

“Yes, it is, Santiago,” you snap, pointing to your chest. “It’s important to me, to my kids!”

He watches you again, and you grit your teeth, trying not to look away from him. He looks you up and down before he matches your heated and tense energy, his arms crossing over his chest.

You scoff at him. “Really? You’re choosing to be quiet now?”

“I’m not cut out for this,” he says. “I’m not used to staying in one place for so long, and you’re a good ten years younger than me, you should be with someone your own age. This just wasn’t how I planned my life going, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you think I planned my life to go this way?” you ask him, starting to pace the small width of the hallway. “To get pregnant from a stranger after a one-night stand? I gave you every opportunity to leave when we found out about this – “

“Yeah, well, I should have left when you told me I could.”

You stop your pacing to look at him in disbelief. “Really?”

“You – and them – would be better off without me.”

“Oh don’t you spout that martyr bullshit on me,” you snap, finally stopping your pacing. You know you sound like a petulant teenager. But you’re angry. You’re fuming. “Is this because of Halloween? When we almost kissed?”

You see how he tenses. Neither of you had mentioned that night since it happened, having silently decided that it was the alcohol, that it wasn’t anything more to it than that.

He shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with Halloween.”

“Then it was Thanksgiving,” you say. “I took you away from your family, who you hadn’t seen in a while – “

“It has…” he starts, but he stops himself, running his hands down his face in frustration. “There is nothing specific that has happened, I’ve just had more time to think about it. And I don’t want it. I don’t want to be a dad.”

You’re crying again. “So all these months were just a lie? You were leading me on?”

“That is not what I was doing!” Santiago says defensively. “Don’t twist my words around!”

“I am two weeks away from having a C-section,” you cry. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!”

“I – “

“I should have fucking listened to you on our date. I should have seen this coming, really,” you say, giving a small, humourless laugh as you shake your head at yourself. “That you weren’t looking for anything serious, and there’s nothing more serious than two kids! And how you wouldn’t get rid of the truck – “

Santiago gives a loud, annoyed groan. “Again with the truck. Why does it always come back to the fucking truck? You’ve upturned my life enough, can I not keep something for myself?”

Something seems to snap in him then.

“You throw this huge bombshell on me, that not only are you pregnant, but it’s twins,” he says. “I had just come back to Florida after the worst year of my life, ready to have some normalcy, and I’m suddenly going to be a dad, with a woman who I barely know! And everyone seems to think I should be okay with it, to accept that this is my life now! And now my spare room is full of baby shit, my friends won’t stop talking about how much my life is going to change, and everyone keeps bombarding me about my truck. It’s my fucking truck, and it’s the only thing that I own that doesn’t even remotely have anything to do with a fucking baby!”

He stops, a little breathless. You stay silent after his outburst, and you look at each other silently before you both physically deflate. This is it. It’s over.

“So what?” you ask him. “It’s too much responsibility for you, and you’re starting to feel trapped? You don’t have your life anymore?”

He hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.”

You wipe at your eyes furiously. Jesus, why can’t you stop crying? This is embarrassing enough.

You nod at him with finality. “Okay then. Fine. I’ll just go.”

You wipe your eyes once again before walking past him, giving him a wide berth, because if you even so much as brush against him, to feel his touch, you’re going to break all over again. You make it to the front door before pausing. Is this really how this ends? With bitter words and your heart broken? You can’t believe this man, who you adored, loved with all your being, was doing this to you.

Your parents and sisters were right. He did decide to leave once he realised he didn’t want them. And you didn’t want them to be right, you wanted to be able to prove your family wrong, just like you had proved everyone else wrong whenever they made a judgement about you. How stupid and naïve you were.

No, you’re not stupid. Or naïve. You’re hopeful, and you had a great support system without Santiago, or your family.

Fuck your family and fuck him.

“You know what?” you ask, suddenly spinning around to look at Santiago. He looks at you, the exhausted look back on his face. “I don’t need you. They don’t need you. They don’t need to know that their dad didn’t want them. Do you know why? Because they have me. They will never know the feeling of being unwanted or abandoned. I will shower them with the love they deserve, and they will be surrounded by happiness.”

You didn’t stick around long enough for him to give a response. You slammed the door loudly on your way out, suddenly glad that you had driven here (although he hadn’t offered you a ride, which he usually did, but now you realise why he didn’t). All the things from the past few months were suddenly falling into place; he hadn’t called you corazón in forever, evidently realising the nickname didn’t have as much as a meaning to it as he thought. He hadn’t even taken much part in the baby shower your friends had thrown together for you. And of course, the stupid truck; you should have seen the signs long ago.

You reach your car and climb in. Taking a moment to yourself, the confined space offering a temporary sanctuary from the outside world, you finally let the fresh wave of tears stream down your face, leaving salty trails on your cheeks. Your shoulders heave with each ragged breath as you don’t bother holding back the sobs that had been pushing to escape.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly. The air inside the car feels heavy, saturated with the weight of your emotions. The warmth of the seat contrasts sharply with the chill that has settled in your chest. Time seems to lose its meaning as you sit there, caught in the grip of your emotions.

In this cocoon of seclusion, you fight with the complex feelings of a mix of sorrow and frustration, and you mourn the end of your relationship with Santiago.

After a few moments, you give one final sob, before taking yet another shaky deep breath. You wipe at your eyes again ferociously, before giving yourself a look in your mirror. You’re a mess. You don’t even recognise yourself in the mirror.

You flinch as a neighbour comes out one of the neighbouring apartments, a reminder of a world that continues to move forward while you're stuck in this bubble of despair. They don’t seem to notice you having a complete meltdown in your car. You best get going, you’ll look like a mad woman…and Santiago might be watching.

You start your car, and with one final look at Santiago’s apartment, you leave. For good.

• Por el amor de Dios - For the love of God

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader