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#the SECOND i was alone again i just. started fucking crying
unnervinglyferal · 2 days
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Lost my shit at the grocery store today. Baby's first trip outside without her mother, me and her great-grandma took the baby along to get groceries to give my girlfriend a break and some peaceful alone time. So I had the baby in the stroller right next to me at the store, picked up a jar of sauce from the shelf and tried to read through the ingredient list to see if it's kosher enough. The stroller was in my blind spot for maybe five fucking seconds. And I look up and some old hag has her entire fucking head in there, reaching for the baby.
And I don't fucking have strangers touching my fucking child.
So I told her to get the fuck out of there and I'll be honest I was not fucking nice about it. Immediately she started wailing that she's never done anything wrong in her life and that she wasn't even doing anything, and didn't seem to register that lying right at my face wasn't helping shit. And since we were both yelling, that startled the baby and she started crying too.
Security guy showed up to see what the fuck this is about and the old hag kept wailing on top of me about how nobody has ever been this cruel to her, while I was trying to explain that this bitch shoved her whole fucking head in my child's stroller, and the baby was still sceaming too so obviously he couldn't make sense of any of it. When I reached for the stroller to pick my daughter up to calm her down, the security guy took half a step and raised his hand like he had wanted to stop me. If he had put that hand on my shoulder like he meant to, I swear to G-d I would've fucking bit him.
My girlfriend's great-grandma had apparently heard the cacophony as soon as the security had, but being 84 it took her a bit longer to reach us. Fortunately she apparently knows this bitch and got her to calm down and shut the fuck up for long enough to explain to the security guy that she knows me, the stroller is ours and the baby is mine, and this aquaintance of hers has a habit of sticking her head into places it doesn't fucking belong.
The security guy looked a bit incredulous about the baby being mine, but dropped the smug look as soon as I got to pick my baby up from the stroller and he had a proper look at her. My daughter's eyes have started getting darker and her baby hair is growing in dark and curly. White finns' babies don't look like that. Even if he hadn't believed that this is my daughter, he'd have no foothold to dispute it. The old hag started lamenting again about what an unfair injustice it was to be so rude and mean to her.
The security guy looked both at me and the hag who had harassed us and told us both to stay away from each other for the rest of our respective errands or he'll have to remove us both. She started again with the complaint that she hadn't done anything wrong, at which point my girlfriend's great-grandma interrupted her, telling her to shut the fuck up - if she keeps walking up to strangers' dogs and kids like that, obviously it's just a matter of time before someone bites her.
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bitchfitch · 1 year
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For all the teething I've been doing on Pavo and Esti i haven't been able to like, actually write any thing for them recently mostly because I've been Busy.
But also because I'm snapping between like 3 ideas for them at terminal velocity and haven't been able to actually get anything written for them and it's like having pumas bouncing around my skull at mach fuck as though theyre house cats at 2 am when you're trying to sleep,
#idea one is the day after things start changing and they haven't discussed it fully yet.#Pavo is mulling over some things and Esti is too nervous to ask about it. but they're alone out hunting#its such a nice day. and Esti thinks hes going to be saying goodbye soon. and hes making himself sick with anxiety over it#and they're alone together like old times but its Not like old times because Esti remembers how sweetly Pavo had kissed him that#morning after and how good it had felt to spend the whole morning in bed cureld up against him.#and Esti doesnt think he could stomach the idea of leaving without getting another kiss or at least finding out if Pavo regretted it or not#and the story is them being sweet on each other and avoiding the big heavy topic until Esti can verbally ask about it. because like Pavo#knows him well enough to know whats eating him up. but he wants to hear Esti say the words#and then the second idea is Esti waking up from a nightmare after hes been brought home from that hell. he screams for Pavo and#like of course pavo is on his feet and at the door that separates their rooms in an instant. but its locked and Esti is too#scared to navigate to it because hes already wound up and hes still not used to life as a blind man. so the idea of getting out of bed#and crossing an open room with nothing to help him orient himself is Terrifying.#probably more than it should be but the nightmares are still fresh in his head and hes having to make himself focus and ignore them#and just reasure himself that it Actually is Pavo and not one of those monster that had used his voice. and its hard hes crying and Pavo#has to take down part of the fucking door frame to get the sliding door off its tracks without just busting it down since Esti didn't#need that particular audio experience right now and he liked that doors painting and Pavo had already sent for the craftsperson who#made his eyes to commission them to make a set for esti. and he doesn't want to destroy something pretty esti likes when itll only be a few#until esti can enjoy it again. and he gets into the room and esti scooches over in bed to welcome him into it because despite Everything#esti still will always feel safer pinned between a wall and Pavo than anywhere else. and he just needs to feel safe.#and the third thing is because of something deardest said a yesterday i think about Pavo in his old age. and im just Chewing on the image#of him and esti in his carriage. Esti's hair has gone white and hes nearing his end. and thentwo of them are together and happy#and able to reflect on the lives they've had together. and its mostly just the idea of Pavo being glad hes so much older than Esti. because#it means despite Esti only being half demon and having a much shorter life because of it. Pavo isnt going to outlive him by very long.#and All of this. Everything was because of how scared Pavo was to be alone. and hes not going to have to be in his last days.#so Yeah. thats been whats on my mind when im not devoting it to like lame shit like work#wow im bad at reading#their url is derederest#not deardest
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gloxk · 5 months
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hate fuckin w aot plz🙏🏿 like uh what position would they fuck you in when they mad?
Fuck me like you mad at me baby.
(Eren Y. Connie S. Armin A.)
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A/N: BEAT THAT COOCHIE UP LIKE YOU MAD AT A BITCH! Sorry it took so long to get your request. But let’s just all agree Eren, Connie, Armin are the big three. I’m not arguing with anyone. It’s true. NOT PROOF READ! 17+
Synopsis: Aot men fucking you after an argument!
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༺Connie༻
—————ON DA WALL.
Connie isn’t going to show you he’s mad, but baby you gonna feel it.
And oh boy you done did it today. After he seen you flirt with a guy…jeez. You really got him walking around in circles trying to not scream at the top of his lungs.
You not going to know he’s mad for a while, after an argument and you THINK everything cooled down it hasn’t. He’s still pissed.
Props to him for controlling his anger (Eren could never.) But when you start sweet talking him again that’s when it comes out.
When you get to rubbing on his chest and start saying “I’m so sorry baby, lemme make it up to you. Please.” with that little whine in your voice…oh best believe he gonna make you sorry for real.
He gives you a small grin and says “Oh for real? You wanna make it up to me?” You should have never even offered because now look at you. Against the kitchen wall crying out how sorry you are.
“You sorry ma? How sorry?” The harshness of his voice craving down on you. You couldn’t even spit out a comprehendible sentence just “Yes mmm so sorry!”
He was satisfied with your sorry, after the second round. I mean after all you did offer…
༺Eren༻
—————FROM DA FRONT.
Now, Eren he’s rough rough when he’s mad. Like oh lord..pray he don’t get his hands on you.
Please run while you can, because after he got you alone you can’t run.
This was especially the case after he found out you followed a guy from your work place, the same guy who continuously flirted with you.
Don’t ask him how he knows, he just does.
“I ain’t dumb mama. So go ahead and do as I asked.” The request was so simple, just unfollow him. But the principle pissed you off, you never told him who to follow and who too not. So you refused. Wrong answer…
Because that refusal sent him through the roof. He just laughed while shaking his head. He tossed you on the bed with no regards.
You never been fucked so hard in your life…The headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust he gave you it was ridiculous. “Look at me while I fuck you.” Eren spat out.
Your poor neighbors, the surely heard the madness that was occurring in your bedroom. But Eren did not give a single fuck.
He had your hair twisted in his fingers while he watched you block ole boy on everything single app you had. “Nuh uh. you ain’t done yet. Block him on spotify.” You were going to learn not to go seeking attention from anyone that wasn’t him.
“Nobody’s better than me mama. You should know better than that.”
༺Armin༻
————— BENT OVA.
You would never expect Armin to act the way he acts when he’s MAD.
Of course he got upset with you before but never something that made you change your view on him.
He always tried to be understanding, always listening to what you had to say and what was wrong. But, today was a little different.
He got so mad that you commented on how his friend looked good. He took it as you wanted his friend, but that wasn’t your intention at all.
“Ah, I see. Well just how good did he look y/n?! Why don’t you just tell him how much you want him to fuck you!” His insecurities were really starting to show. But damn, he just look so fucking hot with his button up shirt slightly undone, and his hair sticking to face. His eyes widened, it was a sexy sight. Armin could tell how turned on you were getting from him slightly raising his voice.
“Fuck—y/n. Stop looking at me like that.” The threw his keys on the table while shaking his head. Armin couldn’t look at you while your hand traveled up his shirt rubbing his abdomen. You were making it so difficult for him to be mad at you right now. Especially since you started begging for him to calm down and let you make him feel better.
The small tugs at his shirt just really got him going. He immediately bent you over on the couch, throwing your clothes everywhere. “Can’t even look at you. So fucking filthy.”
You tried to move away from him pounding your insides, hoping to get a break but no. “What the fuck did I tell you about that shit? Just fuckin take it.” Sluts didn’t deserve a break. They didn’t get that courtesy.
Eventually his hatred turned into love and he started spilling out how much he loved you while he was close to cumming. “I love you so much.” & “You mean the world to me.” & “Wanna make you a mommy.”
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Ah! tysm for 400!
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rafecameroninterlude · 3 months
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soft(ish)!dom rafe taking reader’s virginity?!! jsjsjdjbd
pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader
warnings: loss of virginity, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation
word count: 1.2k
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“come on, baby. why do you always get shy on me?” rafe’s hand was under your shirt, his fingers skimming the lacey material of your bra. you hated the bummed look on his face, your digits weaving themselves through his hair as he left kisses on your neck. “i just don’t want to disappoint you,” you whispered, “here you are with all the experience in the world, and here i am with nothing.” you cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
“what do you mean?” he laughed. “i’ve never had sex before, rafe. that’s what i mean.” your hands fell to your sides as you avoided looking at the man on top of you. “hey,” he cupped your chin, “are you serious?” you nodded slowly, sucking in a breath as his eyes darkened over. “you’re telling me that someone as beautiful, perfect, and smart as you are hasn’t had sex with anyone?” a shy smile graced your lips from his praise. “rafe, i’m being serious.” you hit his chest playfully.
“so am i. why would you think you’d disappoint me by being a virgin?” he caged you between his arms, leaving a kiss on your temple. “because i want you to feel good too.” you met his eyes for the first time during this whole ordeal. rafe shook his head, “making you feel good would make me feel even better.” he pulled you into a kiss, slotting himself between your thighs. “let me do that for you, beautiful. let me make you feel good.” you moaned when he grinded against your cunt, the thin material of your leggings having nothing on the rough denim of rafe’s jeans.
“okay,” you let him take off your sweatshirt, his hips grouding into yours once again. “that feels good.” he sat back on his heels, pulling down your leggings and underwear in one swoop. “yeah? you like that?” rafe’s jaw clenched as he took in the naked sight of you, his cock now straining against his pants. “if you want me to stop anything, just say the word baby.” he picked up one of your legs, allowing your ankle to rest on his shoulder. you shuddered as rafe traced your folds, his thumb teasing your clit.
“fuck, you’re soaked already?” you moaned once rafe started a steady rhythm. he continued like this until you grabbed his wrist, your shallow breaths now pants as you felt yourself getting close to your orgasm. “can’t take it?” he leaned forward, moving faster as your grip on his wrist tightened. “d-don’t stop.” your eyes rolled back just as you felt a finger at your entrance.
rafe’s finger entered you slowly, your walls fluttering around his digit. “does that hurt?” you shook your head, your hips chasing his hand for more. “you’re doing so good, y/n.” he kissed you, the added penetration making your thighs shake. “i think i’m gonna-” you were cut off by your orgasm hitting you full force, a cry ripping itself from your throat. rafe inserted a second finger, this alone making black spots dot your vision, your body thrashing against the sheets underneath you.
“o-okay, okay!” you tapped his arm, trying your best not to scream at the overstimulation. rafe grunted, putting the same fingers he had inside of you, inside his mouth, your eyes widening as he did so. “fuck, you taste so good.” he was quick to discard all of his clothes, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock springing up against his stomach. “i can’t promise this won’t hurt baby, i’ll stop if it’s too much for you.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, his lips grazing yours as he lined himself up with your entrance.
he smiled at you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before taking you in a kiss, your heart melting at the same time he pushed himself inside you, your eyes screwing shut at the pain shooting up your spine. rafe groaned, his head dropping in the crook of your neck. “holy fuck.” he breathed out, his large palm cupping your bra-clad tit. “hurts, rafe.” tears stung your eyes, your nails digging into his skin. “i won’t move until you tell me to, baby.” you held his face in your hands, adjusting to him while the pain subsided.
“i think i’m okay now,” you wrapped your legs around his waist, a groan leaving rafe’s lips as he pulled out, thrusting back into you slowly. you moaned, the stretch feeling more blissful with each stroke of his cock. within five minutes, you and rafe were moaning and holding onto each other like you’d disappear if you let go. rafe was getting rougher the closer he got to his climax, his hand occasionally wrapping around your neck.
“harder, rafe.” he laughed at your request, tugging your hair as he flipped you over, his fingertips digging into your hips as he took you from the back. in this position, he reached even deeper, your pussy clenching around him as he pushed your face into the pillows, muffling your screams. “ah, fuck,” you whimpered, moving your hips to meet his thrusts.
rafe fisted your hair, pulling you up so your back was flat against his chest. “you gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl?” he talked into your ear, his other hand coming around to rub tight circles on your clit. “oh, fuck yes,” you would’ve collapsed if it wasn’t for rafe holding you up. “cum, baby.” as if on cue, you gasped, rafe cursing at how tight you were squeezing around him. “oh, fuck, i’m gonna cum too.” you didn’t even get a chance to go through the aftershocks of your second orgasm before rafe got on top of you again, still rubbing your clit as he fucked into you like he was merely using you to get himself off.
you winced, overstimulation setting in as you felt the build up of a third climax underway. “please cum inside me.” those words alone sent rafe spiraling, his hips stuttering as you felt his cum paint your velvety walls. “give me one more, y/n.” he grunted, his abs constricting as he switched his angle, pinning both of your thighs next to your head. “rafe!” you were sure he had crescents indented in his skin by how hard you were scratching him.
“oh, that’s it..” he trailed wet kisses from your chest to your neck, wiping away a tear that slid down your cheek. you panted, finally opening your eyes only to see rafe smiling down at you. “not funny,” you breathed, holding onto his hand as he rolled over to your side, “i can’t feel my legs.” rafe stroked your hair, pulling you close to him. “that was amazing, y/n. i didn’t think you could be anymore perfect but i was wrong.” you smiled against his skin.
maybe it was the way your girlfriend brain was wired, but you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about his other conquests who probably felt the same way as you did right now; dickmatized and on top of the world. “why are you so pouty now?” rafe cupped your cheeks, your eyes rolling at his teasing tone. “because.. you’ve made other girls feel like that too.” you traced his jaw with your finger.
“well if it makes you feel better, no other girl has ever made me feel like this.”
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mrsbarnesblog · 20 days
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i need help
summary: Rafe has a breakdown and he finally asks for help
word count: 1.4k
warnings: angsty and fluffy?, crying, mentions of drugs and alcohol, ward is the worst father (this is ward’s hate space btw💋)
a/n: I just want to baby him. so yeah, soft/clingy Rafe again because apparently, I can’t write anything else right now🙂
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You were sitting on Rafe’s bed, patiently listening to his firm footsteps on the staircase. The room was dimly lit only by a lamp from the nightstand and you fought back an urge to fall on your back and fall asleep with your face in his pillow. 
Yet the harsh and cold voice made your head clear of your thoughts and you finally noticed your best friend walking into his own room. 
“What are you doing here?” Rafe grumbled at you as soon as he slammed the door, turned the lock and turned around, only to see you sitting on his bed.
“What?” His bloodshot eyes were burning holes into you and you innocently blinked at him, not understanding why he was acting so weird.
“I said, what–”
“Don’t yell at me.” You interrupted him calmly. “We wanted to hang out; it’s been a few days since it was just the two of us. You never complain when I come here.”
“Ye-yeah, fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You watched how Rafe started pacing around the room, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was almost shaking, his hair looking like a mess, and you would’ve thought that he was on the verge of tears. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay? We’ll do it another time. Can you leave now? I– I need to be alone.”
“No, Rafe, I’m not leaving. What happened?” Your brows furrowed, concern and nerves bubbling inside of your body as you watched how your friend and the guy you had a crush on was slowly breaking down. 
“Nothing. Nothing happened, Y/N.” He mumbled, still not staying in one place. “Just go.”
“I told you no.” 
 “Why can’t you listen to what I’m fucking telling you?!” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you as if he were trying to scare you away. Yet you remained still in your place, not even flinching. Your brows shot up in silent question,  eyes were glued to his face, and especially to the way his own eyes became more glassy and watery with every second. “Fuck, fuck—I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to yell at you.” 
“Then don’t. You know I hate it when you’re doing it, Rafe.” You continued calmly. “Sit here and tell me what happened. I see that something’s wrong. It’s been that way for a long time, right? You’re acting differently… C’mere.” You patted the bed near you, giving Rafe a reassuring smile. 
“I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” Sitting near you on the bed and holding his head in his hands, Rafe spoke so quietly that you could barely hear him. “I’m going insane. I have issues and nobody hears me.” You slowly, as if you were touching a wounded animal, put your hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down. 
“Tell me. I’m here and I hear you. Please tell me what’s going on.” You tried to sound as soft as you could, moving a little bit closer. “You know you can trust me.”
“There’s something wrong with me. I— I have thoughts in my head that I don’t like. They’re bad. They’re wrong. I don’t want to be violent or feel these things inside of me but I c-can’t stop. They’re stronger than I am and sometimes they’re messing with my head.” Rafe’s voice cracked at the end and you felt the violent beating of your heart in your chest. He sniffed a few times, desperately trying to be strong in front of you and to hide the disgusting things that were eating him up alive. 
“Are they dangerous to others or to you?” 
“Both.”
You slowly nodded, processing the information and trying not to show the way it actually freaked you out. Did you know that Rafe struggled with anger and was not everyone's favorite person? Well, yes. He was nothing but sweet to you, though. You saw that he was a nice person, with a good heart. The only thing that he wanted in return was to feel needed, important, and loved. 
And you always gave it to him. 
But realizing that there were problems so much deeper and that he was now screaming for help because he could not live like that anymore made you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice the signs earlier.
“Did you talk to your dad about it? Maybe anyone else? Or is it just me? ” You finally reached Rafe's face with your hand, turning him in your direction. You’ve never seen him even shed a tear, not to mention the state that he was in right now and it was shocking how much it hurt you too. The look in his pretty eyes was so desperate and so hurtful that you felt sick.
“He told me to man up. Cool, right? Can’t even do shit without disappointing him. I–I said that I have problems, but he just ignored it. He told me to rest and that it'd be okay.” He smiled at you, even though tears were still freely streaming down his face. “I just thought that maybe once he would hear me. See me. Not Sarah. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He shook his head and looked down. “So it’s only you. Nobody really cares about me anyway, so...”
“Oh, Rafe… Come here.” He wasn’t resisting when you dragged him closer to you by his arm. No, instead, he wrapped his arms around you as if his life were depending on it. You hugged Rafe back, slowly lowering both of you on the bed, until he was lying almost on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers slowly brushing through his hair.
What you noticed is that Rafe was always cautious with physical contact. Sometimes it seemed like he tried to be closer to you, sit near you, or casually play with your hands or hair, but the next day he was completely dispant and hesitant. 
It was obvious that now Rafe lowered his guards; he let you see the damaged parts of him and he craved your touch because it was the only thing that could ground him. 
“I need help. I’m tired of this shit in my head, and I don’t want to continue ruining my life with alcohol and drugs…but it just calms everything down for some time and I don’t know how to come out of this circle.” Rafe sobbed harder, his arms wrapping around you even more, until you were closer than you'd ever been before. Your own eyes were filled with tears, but you refused to show them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a disappointment. P-please don’t walk away.” 
You knew about Rafe’s lifestyle, but despite your words, he always made it seem like not a big deal, like something fun that he does at parties. Though now it was obvious that the facade that he had built was slowly falling down and drowning him in it too. 
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rafe. It’s not your fault. But you do need help, darling.” You whispered, pet name rolling from your tongue faster than you could’ve processed it. “It’s important that you understand it. And I’m not leaving. It’s the last thing that should be in your head.”
“I do. I want to get clean. I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.” 
“That’s okay. I’m here for you, yeah? Your dad may not hear you, but I do and I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together tomorrow, okay? Now you need to rest a little bit.” You reached the end of the bed, dragging a duvet and covering both of you with it. Rafe didn't move an inch from your warmth.
“You promise?”
“I promise, Rafe. You mean a lot to me; you know that, right? More than you think.” You whispered, soothingly brushing his blond hair again.
“You mean a lot to me too. More than you think.”    
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k3n-dyll · 3 months
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Taking Turns [Ellie W. + Abby A.]
||Men, minors, and ageless DNI
CW: Overstim, dom!Ellabs, sub!reader, fingering(r!receiving), cunnilingus(r!receiving) edging,  strap usage(r!receiving), dacryphillia(?), reader has hair, POC friendly cus duh, AFAB reader,strap on referred to as a cock, porn with no plot, no y/n usage
Word Count: 1,032 Masterlist. Divider Creds
A/N: I haven't written in so long so please give me some grace if this is ass
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷“Watch her fuck you, baby…there you go ” Ellie coos, a gentle hand playing with your hair, her soft lips occasionally pressing little kisses to the top of your head as you rest against her. She’s relaxed, slouched up against the headboard as she holds you to her stomach, free hand gently tugging at your hardened nipple, pinching the sensitive bud between her fingers. 
Your mind is completely blank by now, jaw slack, tears rolling down your cheeks as Abby’s thick fingers pump mercilessly in and out of you. Her face is buried snug between your legs, her sharp blue eyes staring up at you, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure as she laps at your overly sensitive clit. 
The contrast is overwhelming. 
Ellie mumbling sweet praises in your ear that you can barely process as she holds you, her grip firm yet gentle as she practically forces you to watch as the freckled blonde ravages you with her mouth and fingers. You can’t quite remember how many minutes it’s been since this started, but it feels like it's been hours, the two women having switched places three- no four times by now. 
“Look at you, already fuckin’ crying and we haven’t even started with you yet” Ellie remarks, her long fingers untangling from your hair to wipe at your tear-stained cheeks. It’s not like you can help it at this point. Ever since the last switch, Abby has been deliberate in the way she handles your body, getting you right up to the edge of your orgasm over and over again before pulling away, leaving you breathless and desperate, clenching around the phantom of her fingers. Like right now. Abby feels you begin to pulse around her digits, your whimpers and cries of pleasure becoming louder by the second, and just like that her pace slows to a stop.
"A-Abs, please-" You start as Abby pulls away from your cunt completely, a string of her saliva and your juices breaking between her lips and your glistening folds as she sits up.
"Don't you want this baby?" Abby asks, the "this" in question being the ribbed, purple silicone strap resting on her hips. As she speaks, she positions her body between your legs, wrapping her large hand around the toy and gently tapping it against your swollen clit, making you twitch. You feel like you could cum from that alone. You nod your head vigorously in response to Abby's question, and the blonde just fucking laughs.
"Use your words, pretty girl." she says, her voice firm. While Abby and Ellie don't often agree on a lot of things, one thing they can agree on is the fact that your voice sounds like heaven. Especially when you're like this. It feels good to know that, but at the same time, it's difficult not to become irritated when they're constantly expecting you to speak to them clearly through ragged breaths and fucked out whines.
You can't help but let out an impatient, drawn-out groan at Abby's demand but you try your best anyways, begging for her to "just fuck you already" through labored breathing. Normally that wouldn't work, Abby would prefer to hear you ask nicely but she can practically feel your desperation, and she's just as needy so she lets it slide this once. Your breath catches in your throat when Abby's movements transition from gently rubbing the mushroom-like tip of her cock against your drooling pussy to pushing it inside. Ellie's voice overlaps over the high-pitched whine that escapes your throat at the feeling.
"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. You can take it" Ellie murmurs, her hands still gently groping and tugging at your tits, her green eyes staring intently at the way Abby is sliding into you.
Abby pushes the silicone deep, all the way to its base before letting out a low groan as if she could actually feel your warm walls surrounding it. Her thrusts are gentle at first, but it doesn't last long before the sound of skin on skin begins filling the room, along with your breathless cries. The blonde is ruthless, but she takes her time, pulling her cock almost all the way out of you before slamming it back in at full force. Her strong hands grip onto your thighs so hard that her fingernails dig into your skin, soft grunts and moans forcing their way out of her each time the base of the strap bumps against her throbbing bundle of nerves.
"A-Abby I'm gonna- fuck" Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, the mere thought of her stopping right now almost makes you let out a sob, but she doesn't. Abby is way too focused on how fucking good you look and sound right now to even think about teasing you anymore, not to mention her own inner thighs becoming moist with her wetness with each thrust, close to cumming herself.
"I know, I know baby- Jesus Christ" Abby mutters between gritted teeth, her eyebrows knitted together as her thrusts become more erratic. "Cum for me, c'mon."
If you didn't know any better, you would think the muscular blonde had some kind of remote control to your body because you cum almost immediately after she says it, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you, the feeling almost too much after being denied it so many times. Abby reaches her climax quickly after, her hips involuntarily snapping forward a few more times as her body twitches from the pleasure before she leans over you to catch her breath.
When she comes down from her high, Abby pushes off of you, the silicone sliding out slowly and sending a shiver through your body. Your legs go limp against the bed when she moves, a thin layer of sweat covering your body, eyes threatening to close. Before you get the chance though, you feel a hand tapping against your cheek. It's Ellie. Looking down at you with a shit-eating grin on her face.
"We didn't say you were finished, doll" she says, gently moving you off of her so that she can stand, switching places with Abby. Again.
"I still haven't had my turn, yet"
A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! I barely proofread this so I'm sorry if it reads a little odd. Constructive feedback is appreciated!
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tteokdoroki · 2 months
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⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.
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about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.
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ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.
he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.
but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.
sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.
it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.
it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.
“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.
your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.
“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.
“what do you mean?”
he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”
“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”
that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.
the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.
when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.
“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.
regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.
he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.
there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.
though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.
it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.
the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.
you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.
“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”
it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.
“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.
even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.
“i love you.”
“i know.”
“come back to me, baby.”
“i…i don’t know if i can…”
you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.
satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.
all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.
but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.
you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.
and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.
because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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loveinhawkins · 1 year
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It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.
He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.
So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.
“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.
Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”
He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.
Eddie screams.
Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.
He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.
Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”
And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.
And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.
“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”
“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”
“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”
“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”
“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”
And…
Well. That’s a development.
“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”
And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.
“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”
Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.
Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”
Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”
“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”
“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.
“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”
Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”
Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.
Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.
Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.
“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”
And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.
Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.
“Your lips are blue.”
“I’m f-fine.”
A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.
“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.
He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.
Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.
But instead—
“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.
Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.
“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.
Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”
“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.
Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”
Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”
Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.
“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”
“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.
There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…
Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.
At least, he would if he could stand up.
When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”
His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.
“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.
“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.
“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.
“Is—is Eddie—?”
“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.
And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.
For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.
But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.
He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.
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bigfatbimbo · 3 months
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Frothing at the mouth in your askbox again sorry but Lucifer who has not fucked in years and spends most of his time alone and probably hasn't been able to get himself off that often in that time without getting sad about missing his wife. He's so touch starved he practically cries just being held, he's whimpering and twitching from simple touches. Hands on his chest and thighs are enough to leave him trembling and trying not to beg. He probably cums before his clothes are even off and tries to brush it off with a force laugh but there are tears in his eyes because he's so terrified that this will push them away. He needs to be held and told it's alright, they aren't going anywhere, and then it doesn't take long at all for him to start squirming again because it's been so long and he's Not done. Haha Anyway. -Martini-Garnish
martini garnish IT IS A PLEASURE TO HAVE YOU BACK IN MY ASKS🙏
god i am such a sucker for touch starved lucifer because it’s so sad. Like whenever he’s around his s/o he is just dying for ANYTHING. any kind of physical touch will literally make him whine for more.
He’s so embarrassed when he accidentally lets out noises like that, especially if it’s just an innocent touch. But you can’t blame the poor baby he’s been alone for so long with no one to take care of him.
Leading up to sex I feel like he would be so anxious about cumming too fast because that would be so humiliating and scary if the person reacts the wrong way.
I think the second he gets reassurance like ‘i’m not going anywhere’ he starts crying. GOD FORBID they reply ‘do that again’ because YES HE WILL, and GLADLY.
oh my god. he makes me sick to my stomach istg this man is the cutest thing ever someone needs to love him relentlessly.
thank you for BLESSING my inbox once again
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gimmeurtmi · 3 months
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your pregnant crocheting hc had me thinking 👁️ so you know pregnancy brain? Is when pregnant women experience memory loss, lack of concentration and more emotional sensitivity (and more crying) so imagine minho or seungmin trying to keep up with their usual banter/menace/tsundere tendencies with their partner and it goes terribly wrong or backfires
i am deeply familiar with such symptoms yes 😅 (you can get pregnancy brain from any influx or imbalance of estrogen and/or progesterone so i personally experience this a lot so this was very self indulgent djhgfs) i chose seung for this because i felt like he’s more likely to accidentally cross the line than mimo but if you want his version too let me know 🥹
(warnings; swearing, pregnant!reader, tears, slight angst, seungmin is a tsundy dumbass)
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“hey, baby,” you yell into the living room as you rummage around the blankets looking for your phone. “is my phone there?”
seungmin and you were supposed to go out for a walk ten minutes ago but you couldn’t seem to find your shoes and then your second earring went missing and now your phone. you kept losing everything lately.
there’s no answer and you’ve already moved the pillows around three times but it’s nowhere. you don’t have any pockets, you’ve already checked your bag. “seung!!!”
“what?” he walks in, eyebrows raised at you.
“can you please help me?” you huff out, “i can’t find my phone and you aren’t helping.”
seungmin laughs loudly, deep and meaningfully like he does when he successfully teases his friends. you don’t really find any part of this funny.
“seung, this isn’t funny!!” you whine, “the bubble tea place is going to close in like,” you tap the phone in your hand, showing its ten minutes before their closing time, “in ten minutes and you said we’d go there but we won’t make it in ten minutes if i can’t find my fucking phone!”
“bubs, are you being serious?” he asks, eyebrows frowning in slight concern. you throw your hands up in the air.
“if you aren’t gonna help me just go on your walk alone then,” you groan, huffing before you sit down on the bed, looking left and right to try and find a hint of where your phone went off to.
“would it really be that hard for you to call me so i can find it?” you glare at him.
“nah,” he chuckles, “i’d like to see this one play out.”
“why are you being like this?” you sigh, looking up at him. seungmin just shrugs, the way he always does, but there’s a slight teasing smirk on his face.
usually, you know why he’s smirking like that at you. there’s some joke, some dance of his that you try and follow while you exchange banter between each other (and maybe throw in a few kisses to the mix). but right now you can’t seem to remember exactly what the conversation was about and if you started teasing him first but it kinda felt like he was laughing at you and you didn’t really like that. you look away from him, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze.
you take in a deep breath as you pointedly ignore seungmin’s eyes on you. he’s studying you closely but you don’t really get why, and by now you’re sure the bubble tea place is closed and you’ve been craving it so badly for the past ten minutes you think you won’t ever eat again until you can satisfy the need for the softly popping tapioca pearls in your mouth. it’s too late now.
you feel your nose stinging lightly as tears gather up in your eyes. you blink them away, tonguing your cheek to try and calm yourself. you’ve already looked everywhere for your phone and your husband is being insufferable and not helping and your thighs burn all the time and your lower back has a constant dull ache in it and nothing ever makes it better and you want bubble tea so fucking bad.
you’re snapped out of your thoughts when you feel a small vibration in your lap.
it’s your phone. your phone!!!!
you jump up, eyes wide as you try and recall just how long it’s been in your lap (did seungmin put it there for you without you noticing?) but before you get to rush over him to thank him you see why the phone vibrated in the first place. a text message.
bubs’ hubs: pabo
your eyebrows frown, reading the message a few times. “you think i’m stupid?”
“what?” seungmin’s jaw practically drops to the floor. he blinks at you.
“you saw the phone was here this whole time and you let me get worried and waste our time just so you could call me stupid?” you feel the familiar stinging back as you blink quickly to stop the sting away. all it does is obscure your vision when the big drops start clinging onto your lashes.
“you’re not stupid,” seungmin says, quietly.
“but you just said i was, you could’ve said here’s your phone but what you said is stupid.”
“no, it wasn’t as like ‘stupid’ i meant pabo like affectionately you know, like how i say you’re annoying and i hate you and stuff?” he raises his eyebrows hopefully, dipping his head enough to look directly into your eyes. you see his own brown ones fill with worry when he sees just how much you’re crying.
“i’m annoying and you hate me…” you confirm quietly, walking past seungmin and into the living room. you didn’t realise seungmin thought that about you, but it was best to have everything out in the open you guess.
“what else?” you say when you feel seungmin following you. “am i ugly? do you think i’m mean and hopeless?”
“no, no, no,” seungmin quickly grabs your wrist, cupping your fingers in both of his large hands. “you misunderstood.”
“because i’m stupid,” you agree.
“no!” seungmin huffs. “you just couldn’t find the phone, it’s okay.”
“but you texted saying t—“
“—i texted so you’d find it. i thought it would make you laugh because objectively it is kinda silly to look for your phone when you’re holding it,” you feel more tears slip down your cheeks, “and you’re super cute when you’re silly.”
you squeeze his hands softly.
“seung,” you feel a sob rip through your chest, “my bubble tea.”
“i know,” he soothes, squeezing your hand tightly, “i’ll get you one from somewhere else?”
you nod quickly. seungmin affirms with a low hum and kisses your forehead, but you recoil.
“hey,” he lets out softly.
“i don’t, i don’t get why i’m annoying,” you shake your head, wiping away at your stubborn tears.
“you aren’t,” seungmin whines, jumping in place a few times. “i was just teasing!”
“but why would—“
“—because i’m the pabo, okay? i didn’t realise it was over the line. i just wanted to make my bubs laugh.”
“it wasn’t funny,” you stubbornly mumble.
“i know. bad puppy,” he frowns at you, or more like himself, and you giggle at the way his bottom lip sticks out.
he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly as he sways the pair of you from side to side. seungmin feels bad, awful even, for disregarding how emotional you might be. especially now while carrying his child for him. so he kisses you softly, the kiss stretching over a couple of minutes, before he quickly orders you the bubble tea you wanted and insists on cuddling you until he’s forgiven. he already is, you aren’t really so sure why you were that upset at something pretty trivial, but the tears kept coming and you couldn’t help them.
seungmin kisses them away regardless of how embarrassed you were by the whole thing, and then he presses a soft kiss on your belly too.
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bunny584 · 3 months
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OBSESSED: GOJO
A/N: Satoru is neither patient nor kind. Pity the poor soul that crosses him. So, don’t cross him 🤭 (ok ok I swear the Yuuta one is up next, Satoru was just being demanding, per usual).
C/W: This man is his own content warning LOL. Mature, 18+
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“So. Damn. Pretty”
Satoru snaps a photo of you bent over, contemplating the pastries. Another one to add to the infinite album of his only muse.
You’re wearing his favorite pair of yoga pants. And his eyes ride your curves without any brakes in sight.
The pants are suctioned to your rounded hips from your hot Pilates class. Your precious little cunt is so puffy from all the heat and sweat, well outlined like a perfectly packaged gourmet dessert.
You never wear underwear with them. And always try to skirt by him when you come home after your workout. Self conscious about how he always tosses you on the kitchen counter and laps you up until you’re screaming his name like a prayer. Eventually squirting all over the Italian marble.
Satoruuu. You couldn’t have waited until after I showered?
You always blush and whine and avoid his gaze. Hands squeezing down on your thighs, trying to hide how they tremble for him.
His adorable, sweet girl.
He leans back against the window of the coffee shop. What’s a couple more minutes of eye-fucking?
Satoru places his rounded black glasses in his back pocket and pops a dark chocolate Hershey kiss in his mouth. What he really wants is your pussy melting on his tongue but chocolate will do for now.
“He’s so hot.” The shrill, irritating, buzz from the airheads next to him shear through his daydream about you.
“Hey, Blue eyes!”
“Sorry sweetheart. I’m spoken for.”
Satoru flashes one of his empty, razor sharp grins. Which means it’s the end of the conversation for him, but the start of a lifelong infatuation for the other party.
Eyes back on you.
He pierces through you. 3 of the 7 cardinal sins wage war against each other within him.
The barista is looking at you how he looks at you and well…
That simply won’t do.
He approaches you like a lion stalking its prey. Satoru towers over you in less than a second. And you don’t notice.
He finds it so troublesome.
You are oblivious and tiny and smiley and vulnerable and so damn trusting. If the Heavens spoke they’d sing your praises. His beautiful, sacred girl.
Men are vile.
With horrible, depraved, nefarious intentions. They see a girl like you and want to violate. And take. And ruin. And push you to your knees. Pin your head against a wall. Shove his cock through the back of your throat until you’re choking and gurgling his name. Pathetic, pretty pleas for mercy. Hot salty crystalline showers raining from your baby doll eyes — it always makes him rock hard. The way you cry when you’re overstimulated.
Fuck.
Wait. What was he thinking about again?
Right. Protecting you. From scumbags like this fucking barista who won’t stop undressing you with his beady eyes.
He can make those eyes go away. Real quick.
You’re up next to order. Satoru snakes his hand around the back of your neck. You startle back into him, just like a wild doe.
“Sato—“
He kisses the rest of his name off your lips. Tonguing every corner of your sweet mouth. Sucking on your warm muscle. He smirks against your feeble attempts to pull away. Gorgeous face flushed cotton candy pink. So shy. So embarrassed. He can feel himself stiffen in his pants.
“S—sat…”
“I’ve missed you, princess.” He pulls away and you’re gasping for air. Sexy little pants. He could fuck you in the middle of the shop right now.
And he will.
“Hi Satoru,” you purr his name and his dick twitches, “you’re being dramatic. It was one night.”
You toss a glance at the barista apologetically. And Satoru decides he definitely has to end him.
“Can I have a small vanilla latte please?”
God. Your voice alone grabs him by the fucking balls.
You longingly look back at the pastries, and furrow your brows. As if your figure isn’t goddamn perfect. You don’t need those silly pilates classes. Satoru could work you out on his cock every day. Would be more than sufficient enough.
“She’ll also take the biggest slice of berry cake you have.” He follows, shamelessly gripping your ass in his large palm.
You muffle a falsetto whine. But Satoru knows that sound. You act so sheepish and innocent. But there’s a pool of lust between your legs right now and he can’t wait another fucking second to sink into it.
“Good choice.” The idiot smiles and Satoru could rip his trachea out then and there.
“And I’ll have an Americano. 2 extra shots of espresso.” He barks his order before kissing you on the forehead.
“Baby, go get us that back booth in the corner. Yeah?”
You give him a tiny smile that dismantles him. So he grips the back of your head for another bruising kiss before sending you off. He lingers on you walking away from the counter. Brazenly taking another photo of you. Completely ignoring the growing line of patrons behind him.
Satoru turns back to the barista, and he watches the blood drain from his face.
His favorite.
A hunter and the hunted.
“Pretty, right?” Satoru muses casually, reaching for the wallet in his back pocket.
“Uh, y-yeah man. S-she..”
“Probably want to fuck her, don’t you?”
Satoru flashes a toothy grin, pulling out a couple hundred dollar bills. He doesn’t carry anything smaller than that.
“W-what? No. No man. I was just. I was being polite.”
Satoru motions for the barista to lean in to hear his next words. He has no choice but to oblige.
“Well, I am going to fuck her. Senseless. In that back booth over there. And if you so much as look in our direction. Or look at her ever again, I’ll rip your throat out and feed it to stray dogs.”
Satoru palms Barista’s cheek two times before stuffing the hundreds into his shirt pocket.
“Keep the change.” Another grin as bright as the sun before sauntering over to the booth with your treats.
“Mmmm, gimme gimme.” You paw at the caffeine and cake, less guilty that you didn’t order the sweet treat for yourself.
He purposefully places them out of your reach.
“Hey! Why—“ Satoru’s large hand encases your neck and pushes your head against the plush booth.
The way you gaze up at him. Wide-eyed. A pretty little deer in his headlights. Oh he loves that about you. How he can read your book front to back with his eyes closed.
His cock can’t stop beating. Against his zipper. Against his thigh. It needs the nourishment between your legs.
Satoru wires his tongue back in your mouth. He bites down on your perfect lips, knowing it’ll get red and flushed and swollen. Just how he likes it when you’re sucking the cum out of him. He can’t feed you his cock here, not yet. But you can sit on it.
You struggle to keep up with his pace. Little moans, little gasps, little “ohs”.
He reluctantly pulls away. Still close enough to your face that the tip of his nose grazes yours. Satoru stares at you. Unblinking. With a quiet smile on his face. He knows what his intensity does to you and he can’t get enough of it.
You squirm. Eyelashes fluttering. Looking in every which direction except into his eyes.
“Look at me baby.” He strums your chin.
“Y-yes daddy.” You whine. So obedient. So pliant.
He much prefers you like this. Not like last night. Out with your friends. Without him. Not letting him pick you up or bring you home. He fucking hates that.
But this. This is perfect.
Satoru stands to his full height. He shrugs out of his black leather jacket before sitting in the booth next to you. Not once breaking his gaze.
You need to be disciplined.
And there’s nothing Satoru loves more than to discipline you with his dick.
“On my lap, little one.”
You eagerly nod and nestle into his legs. His length digging into your clothed flower. He can already feel the heat emanating from your petals.
He drapes his jacket over your lap. Concealing how your bodies are about to mesh.
“I’m going to fuck you, right here, baby.”
“S-satoru, h-here?” He loves when you sound so desperate and nervous. Satoru answers your question with a nip and lick on your earlobe.
“Pull them down.” He husks in your ear.
But Satoru is an impatient man. Your tiny hands take a millesecond too long so he drags your pants to your thighs himself. At the same time unzipping his pants just enough to pull his blushing, leaking lead pipe length.
He’s too big for you. For your petite, doll-like frame. And whenever he rocks you down to his base there’s a Satoru-shaped bludge at the center of your feminine torso.
It makes him want to lock you in his room, forever.
“Oh, oh my god.”
You try to pant quietly when Satoru slides all 10 of his thick, almost inhuman inches into you. And your warm, drenched walls clamp down around him. Like it’s the first time he’s invaded you.
He groans into your shoulder blades. Tilting and rocking you in long, languid movements. Purposeful. He wants you needy. Subservient. Under his spell.
“I missed you last night, baby.” Satoru starts his mind fucking.
“M-missed you…”
“I can’t protect you when you’re not by my side, sweet girl.” He suspends his hips and starts small, saccharine bounces. Making your head bobble like it’s connected to your body by a string.
“Men want to hurt you baby. Take advantage of you.” He continues his rhythm.
You grip the sides of the table. Your cunt creaming all over his length. Clipped, falsetto gasps and whines tumbling from your open mouth.
Satoru’s lips graze the shell of your ear and you evanesce into him.
“You need me. Don’t you pretty? To keep you safe.” His lips trail down your jaw. Nibbling little marks. His territory.
“Y-yes, daddy. I need you.”
Satisfied, Satoru lowers himself back down on the booth. Still violating your womanhood with his length.
So fucking pretty. You struggling to catch your breath and squirming all over his cock. Staining his pants with your arousal.
Satoru pets your head. That’s better. All better.
Just like how he likes you.
2K notes · View notes
dumplingsjinson · 11 months
Text
List of random dialogue prompts 
“I was never a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and you know… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.” 
“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” 
“I fucking hate you.” “No you don’t. Take that back right now.” 
“You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”  
“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” 
“You look stupid as all hell right now.”
“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can.” 
“You’ve given me so many reasons to walk away.” “Then why don’t you walk away? It’s not like I’m keeping you hostage here.” “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s because I love you.” 
“…Damn it all to hell, if I don’t get to have you tonight then I’m never going to be able to have you.” 
“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”
“I think you and I make an amazingly stupid pair.” “I know! Our two brain cells combined together make for quality entertainment and a unique kind of stupidity.” 
“I’m going to have so much fun with you.”
“Oh God, yes, right there— oh my God, just like that, please don’t stop.” “…Can you stop that? You’re making it sound like we’re in a porno and now I’m highly uncomfortable.” 
“Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?” 
“Fuck, you’re such a wreck, and because of me, too.” 
“Can you stop moaning? I’m trying to help you relax but you’re making it hard for me to concentrate.” “Sorry, your hands just work a little too good.” “I’m going to pay for a masseuse next time if you keep doing this.” 
“You are driving me insane and I’m this close to losing my shit because of you.”
“Is hating me your only personality trait?”
“Never scare me like that again!” 
“Oh, don’t worry. I have every plan to make you submit to me.”
“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.” 
“That could be us.” “That is us.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you— slow down, you’ll get what you want soon enough.”
“I want you to remember every single second of this.” 
“Bet you they can’t make you feel the way I do.” “Bet’s on.” “Wait, what? That was not my intention—”
“Hm, but I think I like having you spread out like this. Such a gorgeous sight.” 
“Come and get your fix.”
“…You’re an addiction I never want to quit.” 
“I had nothing to live for, but then you came into my life. So thank you.” 
“Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.” 
“I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.” 
“You think I wanted this to happen?!”
“Just when I was about to give up…”
“I trusted you with my life.” “Well, I’m sorry but you’re clearly very gullible.”
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” 
“You know, maybe you should bet on something else the next time instead of betting on someone’s fucking feelings.” 
“You’re such a dork.” “Yeah, no wonder you’re so in love with me.”
“Does me doing all these things not account for anything?” “I never asked you to do those things for me, though, did I?”
“You nearly foiled our plan, you idiot!”
“I… I think I’m happy.” “You think? So you’re not one hundred percent certain?”
“Who’s laughing now?” “…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.” 
“I’m tired of being on the sidelines.” 
“You actually came back.”
“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”
“That was a bold move.”
“We’re going to be late, all because you couldn’t stop scrolling through that damn phone of yours while taking your damn sweet time to shit!” 
“Kinda sucks that I can only have you like this.” 
“I fell in love, so hard, and so fast, but a part of me knew it wasn’t going to last.” 
“Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”  
(pt. 2) | (pt. 3)
6K notes · View notes
disneyprincemuke · 7 months
Text
5 times * mv1
Tumblr media
there are five times max almost caught himself saying he loves you, and then there's the time that he finally let you know
pairings: max verstappen x horner's niece!reader
warnings: i... don't know?
notes: yes, i'm making a comeback because i've gotten back into the mood of writing (i'm single) and because f1 has got me screaming, crying and throwing up. also, this took me 3 days to write, and i have grown attached. lmk if you guys want the counterpart (basically the same concept, but it's from your eyes???)
one.
"fucking," max cuts himself off, grabbing the closest thing to him. lucky for him, and his team, it's just his racing gloves, "bitch!"
it's just so infuriating to be so close to that podium. he crashed with 5 laps left of the race. his left rear decided to fail him stupidly near the end, after he'd poured his heart and soul to get on that podium. but here he is, moping in his driver's room.
after constantly being in the scrutiny of the public, especially with the way he handled losing, he'd resided here immediately. there's a bubbling anger rising up from him. he's so infuriated.
until a soft knock lands on his door. snapping him out of his thoughts, he knew what he wanted this time. "please leave me alone."
"okay. but christian just wants to know if you're alright." your voice sounds small. he could barely hear you with the door in the way.
he takes a deep breath, then walks over to the door. it reveals you with a hesitant smile on your face.
but he's always had a soft spot for you. all of the anger he'd been feeling merely 5 seconds ago dissipated. "oh. you're not in my room at the circuit often."
"i know. i'm sorry to intrude." you look down at the ground, your often confident self absolutely nowhere to be seen. "christian sent me to check in on you. i'll leave you alone, but i can't go back without an answer."
for starters, you're not a stranger to the signature max verstappen temper. but never has he directed it at you once. it's surely raised the eyebrows of christian horner the first time it happened when you joined the team.
one second he was all over the garage, only rude words coming out of his mouth. the next, he was silently raging as he sat on the tire of his car while you discussed dinner plans with your uncle.
"please, don't worry about it." he takes a step back, gesturing for you to enter the room. you do just that, although a bit hesitant. and he doesn't blame you for that. "come in."
there's a moment of silence between you two. for a moment, the engines from the cars outside start to die down, and the frequency of the fireworks is slowing down, and there are more footsteps in the gravel that surround the trailer.
"i'm okay." he leans on the massage table in the middle of the room. he still hasn't changed out of his race suit. his helmet, balaclava and gloves are all thrown in different directions of the room. they had all been victims of his uncontrollable rage.
it's apparent that he's not even close to being okay. he just has to bank on the fact that you don't probe with more questions.
"it's okay if you're not," you answer in a gentle tone. a soft audible sigh passes your lips as you sit on the couch in the opposite side of the small room. "it's just you and me. i'm not part of your racing team."
his eyes do the speaking again. the heaving of his chest is enough to tell you that he's actually contemplating it. without another moment's hesitation, he starts to go at it. all of the emotions he's been feeling lately, the frustration from just being 5 laps shy of being on that podium.
he's just ranting, throwing his hands in the air while he paces all over the room. he makes a mental note to find a way to make it up to you after this - you're just sitting there patiently, nodding your head empathetically while he talks.
it’s as if you knew and understood all that he’s talking about.
"it's just unfair! i did everything right this time!" he exclaims, hands clenched up into a fist. "i should have been up there! i deserved to be on that podium!"
there's one more thing that bothers him. you. whatever he feels for you. the way his heart races whenever you're around, or the way he's always thinking of the way you fix his hair for marketing promotion material - he can't get you out of his mind. for years, now.
he'd met you when he was 18, fresh into red bull racing as christian's new prodigy. he had only seen you a total of 15 times within the span of 3 and a half years. the transition from crumbs of your presence to full-out spending the whole racing season with you was more than his heart could handle.
now that he's gotten to know you better, the 22-year-old is almost convinced that he might actually have feelings for you. "and-"
he looks up from the ground, flinching back slightly when you're staring directly into his eyes from across the room. your eyes dart down to his hands and it's only then he notices how his hands are clenched into fists next to him.
he almost slipped up about his feelings for you. good thing he caught himself at the last second. his chest heaves as he looks at you, shoulders tensed up and eyebrows furrowed.
you raise an eyebrow, slowly nodding. you make a gesture with your hand to encourage him to continue saying whatever is on his mind. "and?"
"and," i have feelings for you, "it's just so unfair."
he feels his body melt at your stare. his shoulders slump, his breathing starts to regulate and his hands slowly unravel from a fist. it's just so unfair that he's so hopelessly smitten with his principal's niece.
"i know." you push yourself off the couch and walk over to him. stopping just a few steps from him, he looks at you sigh. "i'm sorry that it happened to you, max."
then a small grin slowly stretches his lips. the race is over - there is absolutely nothing he can do to change the result. he shrugs, "it's just racing."
"you can still feel angry about it," you grin, "it's just me."
max shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "i know. it's okay; i'm okay."
you drop your head slightly. max knows you don't buy his lie. of course, he's still angry about what happened. but there is still some truth to what he said - he got unlucky today with the car.
you take a deep breath. he's caught completely by surprise when your arms spread out, taking a step forward and engulfing him in the warmest hug.
he catches a whiff of all your scents - your shampoo, your perfume, and creepily enough, the soap you use for your clothes. and he completely basks in your embrace, his arms wrapping themselves around your smaller frame. his neck rests on your shoulder, silently straining his back just to take you in.
"i know you're not," you whisper. you lean your head into his as you rub circles on his clothed back. "i'm here for you, okay?"
and he wants to say it to you. he gets an inkling, after you just spent the better part of 20 minutes letting him scream about his feelings, that this is bigger than himself.
"i," he trails off, arms tightening around you. he closes his eyes, repeatedly reminding himself that he's not willing to risk it. he releases the breath he's been holding. "thank you."
two.
max can barely keep himself upright in the seat. he's clutching onto his balaclava, eyes following the light shone into his eyes as per the doctor's request.
he had a bad crash with lewis during the race that sent him flying into the walls. he blacked out for a couple of seconds, and he's been in pain since they escorted him to the medical centre.
there's a soft knock on the door, before he hears the creak followed by footsteps. "i'll be back with results, okay?" the doctor straightens up before walking away from him. he acknowledges the presence of someone new, then proceeded to walk out of the room.
the relief max immediately felt when he sees you standing shyly by the door, hands clasped together.
"are you okay?" you ask softly, slowly making your way over to him. "i came as soon as i heard what happened to you. that was horrible, what happened to you."
he tilts his head at you, ignoring the strain in his neck and the pounding in his head. "as soon as you heard?"
you chuckle, glancing down at the floor in what could only be described as embarrassment. "i was in the bathroom taking a piss when geri ran in yelling for me," you admit.
your eyes roam his body, your eyes matching the empathetic stares of everyone he has looked at since he was helped out of that stupid car. he hates it. he hates being on the receiving end of those stares, but it was strangely comforting coming from you.
"are you alright? do you have any more injuries?" you ask. you look at him, hands hovering above his hand that rests on his knee. max gives you a small nod of consent.
"it's just a concussion, from what i can feel," max admits. though, it hurts everywhere. when you crash into a wall at that speed and black out, it's definitely going to hurt everywhere that it can.
he's watching you intently. you're lifting his sleeves to scan for bruises and moving about the neckline of his race suit to look for any injuries. there's a tingling sensation that you leave behind as your fingers graze over his now exposed skin.
"i'm okay."
"i don't buy that at all," you scoff. you reach over for the empty plastic chair and pull it to his side. you take a seat. "i'm glad you're okay. i was really worried something bad had happened."
he smiles. the way you care for him never fails to make his stomach churn and his heart start to race. "it could've been worse. i'm glad it's just a concussion i've got."
you turn your head to look at him. god, he wishes he can just take you in for an embrace and reassure you that he's perfectly fine. because he is. it's just some body aches - nothing he hasn't had to go through before as an athlete.
"i'm sorry about the race." you take his towel into your hands and fold it up. you gently tap on his face, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his face. "let me know if you need anything, okay? water, ice... food..."
"i will handle," he grins, his gaze following your hands' movements. "thank you, though."
you don't say anything. you just smile at him as you put the towel back down on his knee. you rest your hand just above the damp material and tilt your head at him. "how do you feel, though?"
"g-"
"about the points," you cut him off. "it's a close fight for the driver's championship. how do you feel about that?"
he shrugs, pouting his lips out. you widen your eyes at him as you anticipate the next thing coming from his mouth. "it's just racing. i'll come back next weekend."
you roll your eyes and lean back into the chair. both of your eyes are on the tv, watching the broadcast of the race together. "i believe in you. there's still a long season ahead of you."
he moves his eyes to look at you. not his head fully - he doesn't need you catching him stare at you. your unconditional support for him just made him want to jump for joy.
thought, sometimes he does wonder if you're only doing it because you work for the team. but other times you're just so believable that he thinks it's him as a person you're rooting for.
and god, he wants it to him so bad.
"it feels like forever - this pain," he admits. without thinking, his hand instinctively reaches forward. he puts his hand above yours. he squeezes your hand.
he sees you shake your head. you manoeuvre your hand. now your palms are touching. he could have sworn it was the concussion making him see and feel things when you intertwine your fingers.
if he were to be honest with you, he feels like this could the lowest point of the season for him. that rear failure earlier on felt minuscule compared to this crash. deep down inside, there's a fear that there's no coming back from this.
you squeeze his hand, slightly tighter than he had done to you just a few seconds prior. "i wish i could make it better. i'm sorry, max."
your voice wavers as you speak to him. and it kills him that you’re so worried for him. he does have a healthy support system, as much as the public wants to make it out that he’s too cold for that.
max wants to reassure you, just as you'd done with him. but he doesn't even know how to do that. your presence now, while he's still slightly out of it from the crash, is enough to put him at ease.
he sighs, squeezing your hand once more. it's at the tip of his tongue. if he could just convince himself to say it to you.
yet, he settles with, "you're the best."
three.
max leans back into the wall, arms folded over his chest. the strobing lights, the music bouncing off the walls, and a plethora of bodies surround him.
next to him, sebastian is deep in conversation with daniel. a conversation that he had tuned out of a few minutes ago. when he found you on the dance floor, terrorising alex and lily with your dance moves.
if you asked him, he would've told you that you're a natural at many things. dancing, unfortunately, is not one of them.
his silent pining comes to a halt when he meets lily's gaze from across the room. a knowing smile on the girl's face, he feels his cheeks heat up when she drags alex down to whisper something in his ear while pointing at max accusingly. alex turns his head in max's direction and his body shakes with a laugh.
great. they've caught on.
alex nods and raises his eyebrows at max teasingly. alex glances at you, shocked to find out that you've managed to shimmy your way 5 metres down the dance floor to now terrorise george and carmen.
max smiles to him, watching alex bend over backwards to get your attention. it's proven a challenge when you sandwich yourself between them.
when alex manages to finally get your attention, you just smile at him. you hand him the empty glass in your hand and grab carmen's hands. it's a wonderful sight - alex struggling to get your attention. but when he did, max swears his heart skips a beat.
because you lean into alex, listening to what he says into your ear. alex points in his direction and your face lights up when your eyes meets his.
you stride across the room and push yourself through the crowd. before he knew it, you're staring up at him with a toothy grin and wide eyes.
from the corner of his eyes, he notices sebastian and daniel have stopped their conversation. across the room, lily and carmen have flagged their boyfriends down. all eyes are on the two of you.
"what are you doing here all by yourself? you should be out on the dance floor celebrating!" you shout over the music, tiptoeing slightly to meet max's height. "you just won a race!"
"i'm good here, thanks!" max laughs, moreso at your state. your cheeks are puffed up and your lips are swollen. even your voice sounds damaged from all the screaming you've done. "enjoy your evening, please! don't worry about me!"
you shake your head in urgency. "no! you have to celebrate!"
he continues to look down at you, genuinely considering if he should let your persuasion tactics work on him tonight. who is he kidding; he can never say no to you.
"okay, but i'm driving us back to the hotel. so no drinks for me." before he could finish his sentence, you've managed to yank him off the wall. your hand has a firm grip around his wrist as you guide him through the crowd towards the bar counter.
"we'll get a cab!" you stop right at the bar and turn around to look at him. "you won the race today! aren't you excited? are you not at least a little bit prideful that you're leading the driver's championship again?"
max supposes you have a point. he should be excited. here he is in his 6th year in formula 1, being so close to clinching the world champion title for the first time in his life. it's just one night, right?
he can't possibly let you be more excited for his achievements than himself. that's just not right. did he not believe in himself?
he watches you prop yourself up on the bar stool, carefully telling the bartender your order. max's hands hover over your body, just in case you'd fall.
once again, you have managed to make his heart race by putting so much emphasis on his achievements. he's made his way onto the podium several times now that it seems almost mundane for him to end up there.
he wants the next big thing; he wants the world championship title. but why exactly is he waiting a whole few months just to celebrate again?
"come on, max! let loose a little. you don't have to wait for the season to be over to celebrate," you answer genuinely. for a moment there, max almost thinks you're sober. "if you don't want to celebrate your small wins, at least let me do it for you?"
he huffs. you're a lot more convincing when you pretend to be sober, after having downed a couple glasses of cocktails.
you tilt the unscrewed bottle of beer towards him, a freshly mixed glass of cocktail in your other. "congrats on winning the race today, max. i'm so proud of you."
max takes the bottle out of your hands. he willingly taps the neck of the bottle onto the rim of your glass. "cheers," he grins, watching you excitedly sipping away on your mojito.
if he could guess, you’re 6 glasses in. you’re definitely going to regret it in the morning.
you swiftly intertwine your fingers with his and start to pull him towards the dance floor. "let's go celebrate!"
you stop abruptly, your cocktail almost spilling all over your dress as he plants his feet into the ground. you squeeze his hand and look up at him shyly with your chests almost touching. even in the sea of people in the club, you managed to make it feel so intimate.
just you and him.
can he really excuse the words threatening to slip out of his mouth with half the bottle of beer in his system? can he just say it without you remembering it the next day?
but you beat him to saying something. "i'm so proud of you, max."
he smiles, letting a small breath out. he squeezes your hand. "thank you. you're the best."
four.
it's upsetting, really, not having you in the paddock all weekend. what you'd thought to be a simple itchy throat from all the sweets you've consumed had turned into a covid scare. you're isolated in the hotel, albeit having tested negative, already better.
the team couldn't risk getting either driver contracting a sickness. especially not max, a clear contender for the title this year.
max has not seen you since tuesday. the photos of him on the red bull racing social media platforms are just not as good when it's not you taking them. nobody else on the marketing team ever tells him his hair is a mess. neither do you - you always just reach in to fix his hair for him.
max huffs, adjusting his shirt as he stood in front of your hotel room. the small bouquet of flowers suffocate in the grip of his hands. a plastic hangs on his fingers.
the lock clicks. the door is slowly pulled open. there you are, in all your glory. your hair is up in a ponytail, you're in your pyjamas with juice in your hand. your eyes widen. "max! what are you doing here?"
with flowers in his hands, there's really only so many excuses he can make up. he tilts his head and his eyes narrow down. he's searching his brain for an excuse - something that doesn't scream the fact that he is hopelessly in love with you. "um..."
he stays in the hallway of the hotel, and you stay inside with your hand still on the door handle.
when he had gotten off the race track, alex had celebrated with him. at some point, max expected someone to bring it up. it just shocked him that it had taken this long.
alex gave him a firm pat on the back as they strolled the paddock after media commitments. and the question finally came up. "so are you ever going to ask (y/n) out?"
the question should not have even shocked him in the first place. he had been sitting around waiting for someone to ask him this. nevertheless, he was still dumbfounded by the question.
he started explaining - how he can never get around to asking you out. you're christian's beloved niece. first of the next generation. christian even introduced you as the daughter he had to raise before he ever thought about having kids of his own.
and alex gave him the weirdest stare. because everyone on the paddock could easily tell max had feelings for you. he didn't do much to hide it either. it'd apparently been so bad that even toto wolff sneaks around the paddock with questions if there's been progress.
and so, here he is, standing in front of your hotel room after having won his home race. when he managed to escape his pr manager, he took a shower and immediately bought flowers, some food and came straight to you.
he missed you all week.
"max?"
his answer comes out in a ramble. if you hadn't spent so much time with him, you probably wouldn't have understood. but in your week of absence, the driver doted on you with video messages, voice messages and pictures. endless updates with the grid, the drama, the placements.
anything to make it feel like you were still there with him.
"can i take you out on a date?"
his heart races. beads of sweat form on his forehead. the hallway, that had once felt so icy suddenly became so warm.
"what?" your jaw drops, eyebrows are raised in shock. the silence is deafening.
is this some kind of sick prank alex is pulling on him?
immediately, max goes into defensive mode. "i mean, it's okay if you don't! i just thought if i don't shoot my shot now, then i'll never know. i won't take it personally!" he lifts up the plastic filled with tupperwares of food. "i even brought you supper!"
you scoff with a laugh bubbling up from your stomach. you leap up from your spot, throwing yourself onto max. you lift your feet off the ground. his available arm wraps around your waist to stabilise you. his other arm, already busy with gifts for you, darts out to hold the door ajar.
and what does this mean, exactly? max verstappen has never been one to take these things for an answer. he needs is in black and white - in the clearest of clarifications.
"yes, of course!" you squeal into his shoulder. okay, now he can celebrate. it had taken you a solid 10 seconds in a tight embrace before you decided that the hotel's hallways were too exposing for your liking.
finally, he lets you guide him into the hotel room. he can't stop the wide grin forming on his face either. by the looks of it, neither can you.
"right. these are for you," max finally says, holding out the bouquet of flowers to you. "and i'm sorry i'm late. i could have gotten here earlier if it weren't for alex and lando fighting me over what flowers to get you."
your eyebrow raises, willingly receiving the flowers. "you were in cahoots with those two?"
"and george," max shrugs simply, scrunching up his nose. "but he was easier to deal with than those two."
you smile, if it's possible to get even bigger than what's already there, as your fingers lightly graze over the petals of the flowers. max simply stands back while he watches you admire the brightly coloured bouquet.
he's confident about one thing that night: what kind of flowers to get you. so when lando and alex were fighting him over which flowers to get you, they were simply debating over the roses.
but he is in the netherlands. what else could have been the right choice of flowers but the tulips? and he's in an expensive sport, after all. it would be so uncharacteristic of him to undermine the way he felt for you.
long story short, he got the most gigantic bouquet filled with striped tulips. he spent 150 euros. that's not even near the amount he knows he feels for you.
if you asked him for the world, he'd simply exhaust every single resource he has to give it to you.
"thank you so much," you coo, finally looking up at him. you lean in, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. and he will absolutely spend the rest of his night thinking of this exact moment.
this is quite possibly the furthest he's gone with you. and he almost slips up again. he should've just said it, but he's just not quite sure he should. it's just going to scare you off.
"oh! and, congrats on the race win today," you cheer before pressing your lips against his cheek again.
max grins. he doesn’t know why he put it past you. you’ve made it clear you’re going to be his biggest fan. “oh, you watched the race?”
you’re gently laying the bouquet on top of the table in the corner of your room. “of course. it was a brilliant race. i'm so proud of you."
he just squeezes your shoulder. "thank you. you're the best."
five.
in his dark hotel room, the tv illuminates your face as your eyes lock on the movie you've chosen. it's the only way max can see your face. he'd love to be able to pay attention to this movie, but how could be when you're all tangled up with him.
"are you scared?" you suddenly mutter. your first words in almost 20 minutes, almost making him question if you're making conversation because you're falling asleep.
"what?" he's genuinely dumbfounded with the question. he glances at the tv, curious if he had dozed off long enough for you to choose another movie. but no. it's still mamma mia playing. "we're watching a musical."
max watches your body heave up, then down. "for tomorrow."
he tenses up. he's been trying his hardest not to think about it at all, actually. since he'd finished up his evening with media commitments, he just went straight to you in the garage office. he packed his bags and took you out to dinner.
he's secured pole position for tomorrow. he didn't want to think of anything else right now.
he doesn't want that stress passed on to you.
max hums, suddenly feeling an interest in the musical. it's meryl streep singing abba, after all. how can he not be any more interested? he shrugs. "okay, i guess."
he avoids your eyes. all eyes and remaining attention of the evening is on the actress belting out a song. and it's rudely interrupted when you pause it.
you stumble around, propping yourself up to your elbow to give him a stern look. "okay?" sometimes max forgets you're now his girlfriend. he forgets that he doesn't have to put up a front to shield you from his real emotions. "what do you mean 'okay'?"
he sighs. he turns his head back to face you, almost flinching at the glare you're giving him. he clears his throat as he pushes himself up against the arm of the couch. he sits cross-legged and you mirror his posture. he shrugs again. "i can't overthink it now. i just have to do my best tomorrow."
you throw your hands up in the air, scoffing. "what?"
max is at a loss for words. what response, exactly, did you expect out of him? "what?" he says back, hands also thrown up into the air. from the amount of time you've spent around him on the race track, he expected you to know his mindset when stepping into a race.
he can't overthink it before he even gets on the track. in fact, there is no room for that at all.
you resign to the other end of the couch and fold your arms over your chest. you even pull your feet back, not wanting to be in the range of his touch.
"(y/n), i don't know what you want me to say, darling," max responds gently. he's slightly annoyed, yes, but he doesn't want that to triumph your relationship. "you know the clear mind i need to get into a race. if i overthink, that's when it's over for me."
you roll your eyes. "no. it's just you and me. there is absolutely no way you have no opinions about the race tomorrow. not even a single thought? seriously, max?" you tear your eyes from him. "i'm not christian."
max sighs. he scooches over to you on the over end of the couch. though you squeeze yourself further into the armrest away from him.
he huffs, wrapping his arms around you. he pulls you in and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "of course, i have a thought in my head about the race. but if i let it get to me, darling, it can cost me the championship."
you hum, but there's a hint of annoyance. though, you give in. because you drop your head back on his shoulder and pout. "okay, fine. race your heart out, max. i just know you've got this."
he gives you a slight squeeze. a weaker one compared to others. honestly? he's terrified of screwing up tomorrow. he just wants that title so bad. all his life, he's worked for it.
he's simply afraid to let christian down. more importantly, he's afraid to let you down. though his handful of mental breaks about being so close to the final race of the season, you'd reassure him that you'll always be proud of him no matter what.
it's just not enough for him.
the movie starts to play again. you coddle up into his lap and he rests his cheeks on your head. i love you.
thank you, you're the best.
max has not been able to get the ringing out of his head since he crossed the checkered flag. he has not been able to think straight since then.
he just won his first world championship title. he's on his knees, his head resting on the tire. all 58 laps, all he could think of is how is he going to win? how will the season play out?
he finally lifts his head, dropping himself back to sit on the track of the abu dhabi track. he groans loudly, almost into a scream, as he unclips his helmet. he yanks it off his head, then his balaclava almost immediately.
he is feeling so many things.
then across the barrier, he sees you. eyes filled with tears, hair pulled back into a ponytail, in your very own red bull racing uniform. his stare down with you doesn't last long. christian is quick to yank you away.
and he spends the next 5 minutes scanning the crowd for you. sure, he wants to celebrate with the people that made it possible for him to even be there in the first place. but there is you.
"max!" your voice makes him whirl around. a sigh of relief slumps his shoulder. it's you.
his face lights up at the sight of you. just a minute ago, he felt so drained. he barely found it in himself to walk to his team for cheers. yet here he is jogging towards you.
"world champion, max verstappen!" you scream. you leap off the ground, legs quickly wrapping around his waist.
his arms wrap around your torso, just holding you close to his body. "i'm so proud of you," you cry into his already wet neck. you wrap your arms around his shoulders tighter. "i fucking told you."
he doesn't even know what to think. his mind is in a jumble of thoughts. it's undeniable that you had pushed him to his best this season. just having you there, reassuring him every single weekend. even when he crashed, even when he'd retired out of a race.
your legs slowly drop back down to the ground, and he finally gets a good look at your face. for some reason, you're just as sweaty as he is. the ponytail on your head is falling apart and the makeup running down your face almost makes him laugh.
then the excitement obviously hits you again. because you give him a firm and strong pat on his shoulder. "you proved them all wrong, max! you're a world champion!"
his chin is held high and his chest is puffed out. you'd never doubted him. it almost brings him to his knees how much support you had for him.
max is so full of emotion. the race, the title; you. you jump in your spot and clap, nose scrunching up in delight. "i told you this was your season! i knew it all along!"
and he just blurts it out. "(y/n), i love you."
you don't even hesitate. it's like you'd been waiting around to say it too. "i'm so fucking proud of you. i love you."
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lundenloves · 11 months
Text
fatherhood II
*Standing on a soap box, pointing at every one of you.* I will not be responsible for the tears passed in this piece of written emotional catastrophe. It simply had to be done. Simon meeting his daughter for the first time. It's canon. Leave me alone! *Runs away*
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↳ no warnings | f!reader | 1.2k
part one | dad!simon masterlist
i may as well be running from lions at this rate, i cannot believe this. yes i can. no one talk to me or ask me the colour of anything for at least twelve days. sigh.
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Having a baby sleeping on his chest was not on Simon Riley’s bingo cards for this year. His own baby at that.
Ironically, it was like learning to walk all over again. Having a little person who was completely dependent on you was something he couldn’t fathom at all until the time came. And boy, did it come, straight to the deep end he was.
It started when he was stood on the doorstep to his own home, two days late, taking deep breaths and roughing his hair in attempts to alleviate the bubbling anxiety. He was mentally beating himself up for the fucking career he’d chosen, and the hardships that came with time. Time he wouldn’t get back.
“Fuck sake, Simon.” Came a mutter to himself, slapping one hand of motivation to his cheek before reaching to turn the handle. Baby cries were audible from outside, his jaw tightening at the sound. He hadn’t been home in two weeks. Many an argument had passed to get time off although it just simply wasn’t an option. Forcing his wife to give birth alone bar her family. Christ.
He stepped into the house quietly, as if subconsciously on a fucking stakeout. A shaky sigh came when he’d leant against the wall, dropping his bag and shutting the door behind him.
It was a lot and he hadn’t even met her yet.
His daughter.
A rush of guilt panged in his chest and forced the steps he took toward the living-room. His broad shoulders filled the doorframe, in complete contrast to the tiny baby who lay in your arms.
His cold heart attempted to ignite a spark at the sight, kickstarting a warmth that didn’t quite come. Not until you had caught sight of him and instantaneously teared up. It was like all hell had broken loose in his chest, experiencing emotions he hadn’t felt in years. Still, he couldn’t speak, nor move.
You brought her to him, standing up and pressing your forehead against his chest. “You don’t need to say anything.” He nodded quietly, looking down at the baby in your arms. The inner corners of his eyebrows had raised, jaw tensing and loosening between seconds.
You could practically see the thoughts race through his mind. Good and bad.
“Stop worrying, you’re home now.” His shirt had a central wet patch from your silent tears.
You weren’t going to tell him how it was hell, how awful it was that he wasn’t around, and just how much you cried the night you got home with her. Welcomed by an empty house and darkness.
“Simon.” You said weakly, looking up at him and catching the gloss of his dark eyes. He was just as devastated about the whole thing. “Don’t think about it. It’s over. We have her, she’s safe, I'm safe.”
He nodded slowly, eyes unmoved from the baby below him. “Do you want to hold her?” Your voice came as a whisper, aware of his anxieties.
“I don’t know how.” He cleared his throat, looking back up to you. The hardness in his eyes was still there, although exposed by the sheen of upset that threatened to spill. You’d never seen him cry. Not once in the seven years of being together.
You smiled a little at him, a quivering one at best. “You just have to support her head.” Your arms lifted toward his, lightly adjusting his positions before handing your daughter toward her father.
And fuck, did it hit you then.
Stepping back, you made an effort to mentally photograph the scene in front of you. His eyes cast down to the baby in his arms, holding her as if she could break any second. The large palm of his hand was bigger than her whole body, supporting her with his arm although she barely used a forearm's worth of space. Her little hands raised upward, entirely relaxed in his arms as opposed to the crying he had walked in on.
His energy had entirely calmed her down.
“How do you feel?” You sucked your lips inward, both hands on your head to calm the maddening amount of emotion running through your stomach.
His eyes remained fixed on his daughter, still frozen in the position you had put him in. “I don’t know.” He admitted, voice as deep as ever although it had a strain to it.
You nodded. “That’s okay.”
The two of you shared a silence for a minute or two, just entirely in the moment for your daughter and the small babbles she made every now and then. The only consistent sound was her breathing, only audible for the dead silence in the house.
He shifted, “Are you alright?”
You rubbed your arm, looking up at him to find his eyes already on yours. “Mhm.” It was the truth, although he was evidently searching for a different answer. “Just glad you’re home.”
“Have you slept much?”
“Not really. But that’s okay.” The sweet tone of your voice made his shoulders drop, arms relax and his eyes soften. Well, until the baby began to cry and he tensed up all over again, silently panicking while looking to you. “Relax, Si.”
He screwed his face, letting her small hand curl weakly around his finger in hopes she would stop crying. “She’s fine. You’re fine.” A warm laugh escapes you and a slight smile plays on his lips at the sound. “She’s just tired.”
He pushed his arms toward you, gesturing you take her back. He was tired. You could see it in his eyes, “She’s still crying.”
“I couldn’t hear that.” You quip and he tsks, holding his arms out a little further. “Sit with her, it’ll be easier on your arms.” It was a thing for you, wanting him to have her in his arms as often as he could and not scare himself away.
He gave you a predictably unsure look before moving to the sofa. Each step he took was cautious to not stir her even further, sitting down slowly. You leant against the dining table, looking at him from across the room as he mumbled words you couldn’t hear to the baby in his arms.
When he had relaxed, she too calmed down. The steady breathing of his chest created a rise and fall that drifted her to sleep, small fingers still wrapped around his the best they could.
“Are you alright if I shower?”
He looked up in your direction, a flash of a panic appeared across his features. “What do I do if she wakes up?” His glance directed back down to the unthreatening baby in his arms.
“Just talk to her, like you just did.” You walked over, leaning down over the back of the sofa to press a kiss to his cheek. “I know it’s hard, but don’t think about it too much.” Hands placed on his shoulders, massaging into his collarbones.
He hummed in response.
“I’ll be ten minutes.”
Simon only lasted three. Three minutes of staring down at his daughter, alone and full of emotion for her but it wasn’t willing to come out just yet. Fatigue had taken over and by the time you had gotten back, ready to put her down for the night, she was already deep in sleep along with her father.
She was on his chest, arm raised upward to his neck where her tiny fingers touched his skin. His head tilted to the back of the sofa, two hands supporting her while soft snores left him.
Fatherhood.
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reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.
taglist? fill out this form.
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sugawarassoulmate · 6 months
Text
no nut november - nov 01
didn't even make it past the first day. they didn't even try.
(let's pretend i didn't get sick and that this was posted on november 1st 🥲)
bokuto & bully!osamu
word count: 255 & 295
cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, name calling, bullying, minors dni
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bokuto
there was no way bokuto would go a whole month without busting his load, let alone inside you.
he failed as soon as the clock struck midnight
the two of you got drunk at a halloween party and barely made it to an empty bedroom before ripping off each other's costumes.
"bo, you're ripping my dress," your whines quickly turned into gasps of pleasure when bokuto's warm mouth latched on your breast.
“can’t help myself, birdie,” he says when you’re finally bare in front of him. “been wanting this all night.”
the second bokuto feels the warmth of your cunt around his cock, he forgets all about the stupid bet he spoke about with his friends just a few hours ago.
"so you have to go the whole month without busting a nut," one of his friends said over a beer. "no jerking off and you absolutely can't fuck your girl."
bokuto remembered the idea sounded fun, a test of his endurance even but the look on akaashi's face told him he was full of it
"there's no way you'd last a day, let alone a month," he said to which bokuto immediately took offense.
"i could totally last a month!" he huffed but the second he saw you in your angel costume, his only mission in life was to bury his cock so deep inside you he can't think.
once the post-nut clarity hits, bo realizes he has to let his friends know he lost and he immediately gets roasted in the group chat.
bully!osamu
lol there's no way osamu could hold out that long
suna brought it up a few days ago with a knowing glance in osamu’s direction
osamu doesn’t like to lose bets and almost thought about going through with it but why should he be deprived of life’s pleasures?
then again he could make you suffer too, bring you to the end and never deliver
osamu tried it, the thought of teasing you was too much fun for him
but when he finally had you under him, fingers against your clit, that you're whining starts
"there ya go bitchin' again," he says, slapping your cunt to reprimand you as if he isn't rock hard in his sweats at this very moment.
"samu!" you cry, staring up at him with those stupid doe eyes, welling up with tears because he's just being so mean to you
there's only one thing that stops you when you're like this, and osamu's more than happy to give it to you
"ya want dick that badly? is that it?" he says pulling his cock out, sliding it against your cunt
your cries stop when he finally sinks himself into you, both of you gasping
and samu isn't one to hold back, not with you at least, fucking you hard and deep until your cumming around him in no time (all those thoughts of edging you leave his head)
for a brief moment, osamu actually thinks about not cumming in you (or on you) and taking part in the stupid bet but then he feels your legs wrap around his waist he quickly decides it's not worth it, flooding your cunt with his seed
it isn't until halfway through the month osamu finally tells everyone he lost on the first day 🥴
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©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!
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fcthots · 7 months
Note
“I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.” with protective upset and slightly unhinged jason would be so so good oh my god. like if something bad happens to reader and he has to get violent to defend her… yeah.
-🧸
You were on you way home, out later than you should have been, but your friend needed moral support after a breakup and you lost track of time.
Unfortunately while both you & Jason's apartment and your friend's were just off the edge of crime alley, your friend's apartment was on the opposite end of you and Jason. All of this is to say, unless you wanted to be out after midnight, you had to pass through crime alley after dark. It was just a five minute walk there, when daylight spared you of most of the dangers of Gotham, but it was pitch black now. You should have driven, but at the time it didn’t seem necessary.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
You walked as fast as possible.
You didn’t even have a purse on you. Your phone was in the leather jacket Jason had bought you as a present and you had 20 dollars stuffed somewhere in your pant pockets.
Were you supposed to turn left here? Yeah, you recognize that streetlamp.
You would call Jason, but your phone is fucking dead and it's not like you were gonna ask your crying friend for a charger. And you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside with no way to get back into your friends apartment.
You were in the home stretch, just in the outskirts of crime alley. Almost freedom.
Never let it be said that you were lucky. All of your luck was used getting your hot ass boyfriend. Luck gone.
The man had a knife and was screaming for your wallet. Your wallet that you did not bring with you.
"Give me the wallet or I'm gonna spill your guts on the fucking ground!"
Just because your boyfriend was scary looking, did not mean you were used to scary men, especially ones that yelled at you. Your hands shook and you weren't sure what to do.
"I don’t have it. All I have is 20 dollars, please."
"That's a fucking lie. I see your jacket. I know that shit is expensive. Lie to me again and I'll slit your throat."
Fuck. If you had to guess, it would be Jason that would find your body. You didn’t want it to be Jason. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing your lifeless eyes. You know what it's like to look into your soulmates lifeless eyes and realize they're gone forever; you were hoping Jason would never have to experience that.
"It's-"
"Tough luck... I guess I could accept other forms of payment."
He bares his teeth in a grin as he sees the look on your face.
"Unless you'd prefer that no one ever finds your body?"
You're really glad you told Jason you loved him before he left for patrol.
The man starts getting closer to you. You can't talk, can't scream, can't think. You were gonna die alone.
You think you mumble out a 'please' before your back hits the wall. His knife was to your throat, but all you could think about was Jason.
There was a bang that you didn’t fully register. Before you could think twice about it, your mugger was on the ground. You didn’t move. You stayed, frozen, silent tears running down your cheeks.
"Shh, it's ok. You're ok. It's me."
You finally focused your eyes and saw the white lenses staring at you, his arms in the air.
You babbled nonsense. You couldn't breathe.
You tried to back away from the man on the floor, but you almost fell. You swore your legs were going to give out. Jason was at your side in less than a second. He lifted you over the bleeding body on the ground, supported your weight as your knees buckled.
He tucked your face into the crook of his neck and you choked on air.
"I've got you. Match my breaths, ok? Good. You're doing great. You're ok, I promise."
All you could manage to get out was his name.
"'M right here. Just breathe. Focus on that for me." His hand cradled the base of your neck.
Eventually you stopped crying. Eventually you could breathe again. Eventually Jason led your face away from his neck to look at you. Your whole body shook. You watched as he drew his hand up to his helmet and heard this hiss and click and he took it off. He took your jaw in one of his hands.
He wiped the splattered blood and tears off your cheeks with a gloved hand, traced the trail of fresh blood and broken skin on your neck from where the knife was pressed against you. “I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”
You looked into his eyes as they flashed an inhuman green, and you believed him.
Bonus:
"Wait, Jay. Did you just happen to stumble across me?"
"There...may or may not be a tracker in the jacket I bought you... You were in one place for too long."
"I hate that that makes me feel safer."
He smiles apologetically. "I love you."
"I love you too."
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