#there is no way I can physically shut up about it.

[assassinsblade]

Lonesome

When you can't seem to find a place to belong, a tense exchange with Azriel has you shutting down.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: Death (side character), grief, loneliness, angst

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!

The night had gone . . . okay.

A night with the inner circle. A night with games, drinks, friends, and fun.

Except you didn't have fun exactly. You weren't miserable, but you also hadn't enjoyed yourself. You were just there. In the background, observing and chuckling at the merriment around you.

While you had attempted to chime in every once in awhile, it seemed as though this family wasn't used to hearing you. Or maybe they were just preoccupied. Whatever reason, you kept to the shadows most of the night.

Unfortunately, the shadows were not where the shadowsinger had occupied.

Instead, he had found himself sat next to the middle Archeron sister, grinning at whatever she was quietly describing to him. You watched as his lips quirked, his dark eyelashes fanning over his sharp cheekbones. The spark in his eye as he watched her, the blush on her cheeks.

They had been flirting. All night.

Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you so much. It would have bothered you some, sure, seeing that you had been in love with Azriel for months now. But on a night like tonight, when you needed company and no one was paying attention to you, it hurt just a little bit more.

You had a patient pass earlier in the day--one you were close with, who you had been working on for months. She was young, close to your own age, and it twisted something inside of your soul losing her. It made you feel like a failure, like you had let her down, like you were at fault.

There was a hope inside of your chest when you had opened your bedroom door earlier to make your way to the living area. You had hoped that your friends could help wash away the guilt, self-hatred, and grief. Instead, you sat by yourself, watching as everyone else basked in their own happiness and relationships.

Except they weren't all those kind of relationships. Yet, at least. Nesta did have Cassian, and Feyre did have Rhysand, but Elain and Azriel weren't together currently. She was mated to Lucien despite her protests of the fact. You had tried to keep that in mind as you watched Azriel brush a piece of hair behind Elain's ear.

You, however, never had anyone really. You had grown up in an orphanage in Velaris with no siblings. It had always been difficult for you to make friends, and you thought you had made a friend of this boy named Mika, but he had ended up being controlling and aggressive. After being hurt one too many times, both physically and emotionally, you had tried to just keep to yourself to limit the damage.

And due to the physical damage you had taken in that relationship, you had found an interest in the medical field.

That was how Rhysand found you after you had opened a medical office in the center of Velaris for underprivileged citizens.

That had been a year ago and you still found yourself on the outside of everything. You had watched Azriel over those twelve months, observed the way he kept his family safe, the way he moved softly, rarely raised his voice, and always kept his touch gentle and smooth.

It seemed he never noticed anything about you, though, despite observation being the very thing that made him a shadowsinger.

Maybe it was something about yourself that made you nearly invisible. Invisible or unlikeable.

These thoughts continued to run through your mind as you sipped on your tea, knees curled into your chest on the couch. Everyone else had left about an hour ago, but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep with everything that had happened today.

You could still see the moment her eyes went blank, the last breath leaving her lungs. It had scarred something deep within you, from both losing a friend due to your own incompetence and from the reminder that you would die alone one day.

A shuffle from the opening of the room broke you from your thoughts. You slowly moved the teacup away from your lips, watching hesitantly as the male crossing your mind walked past the threshold.

He spotted you sitting there and gave you a polite smile before continuing on his way, feet moving swiftly toward the balcony.

You debated whether or not to let him go or if you could try to get him to keep you company. After all, you really needed someone right now. And his calm demeanor and reassuring presence was just what you were looking for.

Azriel had just been about to take off when you stepped out onto the balcony.

"Hey, Azriel."

The male turned at the sound of his voice, eyebrows raised in slight surprise. The action made you second guess yourself. Shouldn't he have heard you coming? Wouldn't his shadows have told him?

"Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah, I-uh, was just wondering if you wanted to talk some. I have some more tea brewing. We haven't been able to get to know each other much yet, so--"

"Sorry, I'm meeting Elain. She wanted to go flying tonight."

Right. Of course.

You nodded. "Sure. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess."

He went to take a step toward the ledge again when you spoke up again. You didn't know what led you to saying these exact words; maybe it was the rough day, the heavy emotions in your chest, or your anger at everyone's disregard for you. But before you could stop it, you were taking a step forward in haste and the words were out of your mouth.

"Actually, do you really think that's a good idea?"

Azriel tensed, head turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you. "I'm sorry?"

You swallowed. He had stopped. That's what you wanted. "She's mated, isn't she? I saw you two tonight, and I don't think--"

"You don't think," Azriel laughed humorlessly. The sound was so odd coming from such a quiet and gentle male, it nearly made you flinch. But you stood strong. Clenching your fists at your sides and taking a deep breath, you spoke what you truly believed.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt. Lucien is a good male."

"I think we're old enough to make decisions for ourselves." His voice was taking on a cold edge, like a blade smooth enough to cut with little noise but heavy damage. Like the famous dagger sheathed at his side.

"Those decisions could start a war, Azriel."

Despite your voice being soft and patient, he titled his head back with a sigh and a muttered curse, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Listen. I don't need to defend myself to anyone, let alone you."

Let alone you. You ignored the sting in your chest at the words. Shaking off how small and invaluable they made you feel.

"That's not what I'm saying Azriel. I just think you should take a step back--"

"Just because you're alone doesn't mean I have to be too."

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, the air leaving your lungs in a whoosh of emotion.

Alone. Lonely.

Unwanted.

You were alone. He could see it. He knew it. And he had done nothing about it.

He didn't care.

You must have been staring at him like a fool. A pathetic girl unable to stand up for herself, unable to move away from the male in front of her, because then she would truly be what he said she was: alone.

You swallowed harshly, trying to push the lump in your throat back down along with the tears that threatened to collect in your eyes. But it was difficult with your chest throbbing in pain, your stomach twisting and bottoming out with embarrassment and shame.

Azriel must have noticed your lack of composure, your hurt. Because suddenly he was sighing, a hand coming up to run through his wavy black hair.

"I didn't mean that."

His low voice cut through the silent night like a knife. You still couldn't meet his eyes.

Hiding your shaking fingers in two fists at your sides, you nodded, taking a step back toward the door of the House of Wind. If you were nodding as a show of forgiveness or in agreement with his words, you didn't know. You could feel his eyes following you. But you didn't want them on you anymore. For once, you didn't want him near you.

"I'm sorry."

You nodded again, moving to wrap your arms around yourself. The motion in itself made you even more embarrassed. The lonely girl with no one to comfort her but herself.

That dreadful feeling in your chest burned.

You didn't wait for him to speak another word before turning on your heel and walking back into the House of Wind.

Feeling his eyes on you, you didn't linger in the main room, instead turning the corner and concealing yourself in the hallway as you made your way to your room.

Azriel had never been so harsh with you, had never spoken to you in that tone or said something so humiliating and cruel. Although he had never spoken to you much at all.

Alone. Lonely. You, and no one else.

You should have never said anything. Should have let Azriel pursue Elain, minded your own business, loved everyone from afar. Instead, you had made yourself visible, opened your mouth, demanded to be seen and heard. All it had resulted in was a reminder that you didn't belong out in the open. You would always be shoved back into your solitude.

Maybe you could learn to like being alone. You wouldn't have to face the rejection of others, the forgetfulness, the feeling of unimportance.

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed your room. The space was equally as cold as the rest of the House. There was no comfort in the room, nothing that meant a lot to you. No presents, no memories, nothing you. Only furniture, blankets, and clothing. Generic paintings that were in here before you had even moved in.

Then you remembered when Elain and Nesta had arrived. The presents they had been given. The daggers, gloves, trinkets . . .

The things you had given others: jewelry, weapons, books, artwork, and yet your room was empty. You were empty. You had been giving and giving and watching everyone else receive.

You thought back to that moment during the war, the feeling you had felt when you had looked up after victory was declared. Cassian and Azriel had embraced before the two Archeron sisters met at their sides. Feyre and Rhysand were inseparable, and Mor was making sure Amren was okay. No one had even glanced at you.

And what Azriel had said . . .

You weren't meaning to drag him down with you, to demand his attention when they all had what they needed without you. You were trying to help. And you wanted him to see you.

But you didn't even see yourself. Not in this room, and not among the others.

So maybe it was pointless--trying so hard to get others to like you. Maybe being quiet and a wallflower, keeping the peace and admiring from afar only resulted in wasted energy.

Since nothing seemed to get others to like you or want to talk to you, maybe you shouldn't try anymore.

After all, Azriel already didn't seem to like you.

And your one friend who did had died today. In your arms. Because of you.

Just the thought of not caring lifted an invisible weight off your shoulders. You shook off the pain of Azriel's words, the weight of your feelings, and the burden of loneliness. And then you felt nothing.

No crush. No embarrassment. No hurt. No grief.

Just a numbness building in your bones.

And it was glorious.

#azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar x reader #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar x y/n

[proxima-writes]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

PAIRING: JACKSON!JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY | Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | One glimpse of Pedro as Joel in the new season has turned me into a woman possessed. Thank you @undrthelights and @janaispunk for giving this a read for me 💕

ways to help palestine

WARNINGS | explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, porn without plot, mild angst, able bodied reader, no physical reader descriptions or age mentioned, jackson era, mentions of joel's weight (in the context of looking healthier in jackson), emotionally constipated joel, dirty talk, praise, pet names, kitchen sex, oral sex - f receiving (while standing), unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if i’ve missed any!

A noise breaks through your dreams, a loud banging that startles you from sleep and leaves you blinking at the ceiling. Thoughts still fuzzy, you stumble down the stairs and through your kitchen to the back door that rattles in its frame with each pound of a fist against it. You glance at the neon red numbers of the stove clock and at this hour, there can only be one culprit.

“Joel, what the fuck,” you groan, opening the door. “It’s two in the morning, what is wrong with you?” He doesn’t answer, simply shoulders past you and into your house. “Oh, sure come on in, make yourself—“

Your sarcastic remark is abruptly cut off by his lips crashing against yours, mouth hot and hungry as he skips any semblance of pleasantry and dives straight into carnal desire. His teeth graze your lip, the sting soothed by his tongue before it tangles with yours. Your fingers curl into his jacket sleeves, hanging on for dear life as he backs you into a wall, the two of you hitting one with a dull thump that disturbs the picture frames.

He shoves a knee between your thighs and pins you to the plaster, every sense invaded by him as he continues to consume you. When his mouth leaves yours and begins to leave hot kisses like brands across your neck, you finally find your voice again.

“Joel, what—“

“Shut up,” he grunts. You’re taken aback by the command and you have half a mind to smack him across the head for it, but he’s got his teeth on your earlobe and he adds, “I just, I need this, okay? Please?”

The fight leaves you in one fell swoop because you’d do anything for Joel if he just asks nicely. You nod and he returns to his task of turning you into a puddle with a single minded determination. When you start to rock your hips against his denim clad thigh in a desperate bid for friction, you feel, rather than see, the grin on his face.

“Mm, just as needy for me, ain’t you?” He teases. You frown.

“Don’t push your luck, Miller,” you snap. He laughs, a deep rumble that reminds you of the thunderstorms in the spring. “I can still kick you out of my house.”

“You won’t.” Confident, cocky, a man who knows he has you in the palm of his ridiculously skilled hands. “If you’d been smart, you would have kicked me out the first time. Now I’m just like a stray dog, ain’t gettin’ rid of me now.”

The first time, when he showed up in Jackson with a chip on his shoulder and a frown on his face. His hair had been shorter, his frame a bit smaller, his eyes a lot more vacant. He walked you home one night from the Tipsy Bison and when he kissed you under the glow of your porch light, his mouth tasted like whiskey, not unlike it does tonight.

Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

While your thoughts drifted to the past, Joel has dropped to his knees and is curling his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, dragging the fabric down your thighs.

“In the kitchen? Really?” You huff. “There’s a perfectly good bedroom upstairs.”

“Too far,” he says, tossing your underwear aside.

Despite your complaints, there is something undeniably sexy about having Joel kneeling before you, impatient enough that he’ll take you right where you stand. He shuffles closer, lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and lavishes your clit with broad swipes of his tongue.

Your head drops back as you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls out every trick in the book of your pleasure, alternating between fast circles and sucking the bundle of nerves between his lips. It’s not long before you’ve reached the precipice of your release, teetering on a razor thin edge before finally falling into oblivion with a gasp of his name. He groans against you as you come, waves of it rolling through you.

“So fuckin’ good,” he says as he pulls away. You look down at him with a half-lidded stare, his chin wet in the low light and his own gaze dark with lust. He stands, slowly, with a bit of a wince because of his bad knee that he tries to hide with a grin. “C’mere.”

You let him pull you away from the wall and into his arms where he kisses you, his lips and tongue drenched in your taste. He walks you back to your little kitchen table, kicking a chair out of the way so that he can turn you to face it, a palm between your shoulder blades urging you down until you’re bent over the wooden surface.

The clink of his belt buckle falling to the linoleum makes your muscles clench in anticipation. Joel’s palm smooths down your back, almost reverently, before reaching your ass and giving it a rough squeeze.

“You’re killin’ me, you know that?” He asks. You turn your head, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Me? I’m not doing anything, I’m waiting for you to quit teasing.”

“That’s just it,” he says, sliding the head of his cock through your messy pussy before notching himself at your entrance. “You ain’t gotta do anythin’ except exist and you’ll drive me crazy.”

Any response you had dies a swift death as he presses inside of you, filling you in the most tortuous way. The ache of the stretch quickly fades as he bottoms out with a deep groan, his hands gripping your waist tight enough that you know you’ll feel the phantom sting of bruises in the morning. He sets a rough, demanding pace, the sound of skin against skin cacophonous in your little kitchen. You can’t hold back the noises of pleasure he wrings from you as he slams in deep with each thrust and pulls out so far that you’re practically empty before doing it over and over again.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, so tight,” he grunts. You arch your back the slightest bit, changing the angle so that each drive of his cock drags against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and whimpering his name. “God, that’s it, sweetheart. Take it so pretty.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”

“Beggin’ to come again?” He asks. “So greedy, ain’t that right?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Need to come, please, Joel!”

“I gotcha, baby.” His hand slips between your thighs and his fingers pinch your sensitive clit. “Come on, come on my cock so I can fill you up.”

It’s an empty threat, but one that works. Your muscles go tight with your second orgasm, your cunt pulsing around him as his thrusts grow erratic, uncoordinated as he chases his own high. He pulls out just seconds before making good on his word, painting your skin with warm release.

As you catch your breath, his warmth leaves your side. You vaguely register the sound of running water before a cold rag is wiping away the mess on your ass and cleaning up the slick between your thighs, the rough fabric over your sensitive flesh making you jump. Joel shushes you, another pass of his soothing palm down your back as he finishes wiping you clean.

You stand up straight on shaky legs and collapse in the chair that he’d kicked from the table to make room for your bodies. He’s already pulled his pants back up, the only evidence of your tryst in the sheen of sweat on his brow and his hair in disarray. His jaw grows tense as you watch him and he shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot in the awkward aftermath.

“Thanks,” he says. “Needed that.”

“So you said,” you reply. “Did something happen?”

“Just some bullshit with Tommy.”

“Brother bullshit or town bullshit?”

“Bit of both.”

“Oh.”

He nods, glancing at the door. “I should get goin’.”

“Right.”

Joel doesn’t move for the door, though. No, he steps in close, taking your face in his warm hands and kissing you softly, gently, a wild juxtaposition to his earlier attentions. When he pulls away, you can’t help but reach up and smooth a thumb between his eyebrows, trying smooth the line of concern there.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whisper. You’ve said it before. You’ll say it again. You’ll keep saying it, until the ship that passes you in the night returns to your harbor.

“I do,” he replies, stepping back. You give him a tired smile.

Tonight isn’t that night.

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed! You can find more of my writing below:

Joel Miller masterlist | All character masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #no use of y/n #jackson era joel #long hair joel

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc

[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy

[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his

[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick

[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience

[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes

[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that

[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.

[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."

[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side

[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you

[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s

[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore

[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife

[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too

[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up

[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying

[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime

[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you

[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you

[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still

[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him

[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two

[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often

[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking

[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you

you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion 🫶🏻

here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami

xoxo sarah <3

#sub mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys fluff #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys headcanons

[canthelpit0]

Silent

Pairing: Matt x reader

Wordcount: 1.8k +

Summary: you’ve always quietly watched the triplets, silently wishing you could be a part of a group like them. Until you and Matt talk for the first time…

Warnings: selective mutism, anxiety, crying, angst, praise, no use of y/n, no oc

(Disclaimer: I’m not mute in any way. This was a request from an anon that I accidentally deleted. Hope you like it ! Requests are open)

I developed selective mutism pretty early on. My mom says that I didn’t talk even back in kindergarten.

But it’s been years now.

I can talk, and I can’t shut the fuck up for the life of me. I talk a lot, even have full conversations with myself.

Just not at school, or around new people. God, especially not in school.

It’s not like I want to be the ‘ weird’ mute kid. I would love to talk and make friends, I just physically can’t open my mouth and talk.

It even took months for me to utter simple words to my therapist, tho by this point I’ve known her for years and I’m pretty comfortable.

There are these triplets in my grade. We’ve always gone to the same school, but I don’t think they ever noticed me.

Well the first time I noticed them was in first grade, because there were three of them. Of corse my six year old self didn’t understand the concept of multiples back then, and I really wanted to ask, and talk to them. I really thought they were cool.

The first time I interacted with any of them tho was when I was in fourth grade and Nick had asked to use my dark green pencil since he only had light green and needed both dark and light.

Back in fourth grade I wasn’t just selectively mute, but also really shy. So I’d just looked down and stared at the desk giving him a small nod.

In freshmen year I shared a class with Nick again, he asked me for a pen, wich I gave to him.

Despite not having talked to him once in my entire life, he remembered my name. Wich isn’t too shocking since we’ve always been around each other, I was just kinda in the shadows.

He actually gave me that pen back. Most other people would’ve forgotten and just taken it, but Nick didn’t and I appreciated that.

I only ever interacted with Nick those two times. despite sharing a few classes with both Chris and Matt over the years, I’ve probably never even held eye contact with either of them.

I’ve been watching everyone.

Bullying isn’t really a thing. Sure there were some hurtful comments by jocks here and there but it really wasn’t as bad as in the movies.

Besides I think most people forget i even exist so they don’t even bother bullying me.

I’ve had my eye on Matt for a while. Not in a weird way. But Matt seems to pretty obviously have anxiety too. I don’t know if he’s open about it, I’m not in his friend circle.

But every time I’m feeling overwhelmed and we’re in the same room, I unconsciously glance at him to see if he feels the same or if I’m just going crazy.

Chris seems to be the loudest and most extroverted one. And while yes, Nick seems pretty extroverted too, Chris seems more… random? Bold?

I sulk in the back of the class my lips pulled into a tight line as I try to get myself together.

There is literally no reason for me to be feeling like this. Honestly no one has tried to talk to me today, nothing happened, I just feel so overwhelmed.

I raise my hand just slightly. I make eye contact with the teacher. Mrs. Evans. I literally love her, she’s so kind.

Her son is apparently mute too.

When I was diagnosed with selective mutism they thought it’d be a great idea to make me learn sign language just in case, and that’s just what I did.

Since Mrs. Evans son is mute, her son, as well as her and her husband also learned sign language.

So whenever I needed something I could sign to her. Not that I wouldn’t be too embarrassed too.

Our eyes lock. Everyone was working on some paper I should also be doing, but I’m too busy hyperventilating.

I let my hand drop on my desk and glance at the door quietly asking if I can go to the nurses office since I was too tired and ashamed to sign it to her.

She gives me a pitying smile but nods. I hate pity, but then again that’s better than getting told im faking.

I look around the class of students. I get up, as quiet as I can. I pack up my little stuff and quietly walk to the front of the class. I nod in appreciation and walk outside.

I stare at the ground while I walk down the hallway. I sigh.

I feel my eyes start to water and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Honestly I should probably go to the nurses office to get checked out, just so I can leave. But I don’t think I can handle communicating with another human.

I feel like I’m about to break down. I continue to walk down the hallway clutching the straps of my bag harshly.

I consider if driving home even is a good idea seeing as I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Or-

Suddenly I bump into someone.

I close my eyes trying not to cry right then. I don’t know who I bumped into but I want to apologize, but I know that I can’t, and since I don’t know who I bumped into I don’t know if it’s someone who’ll be mean about it or-

I’m taken off guard by a gentle brush to my upper arm.

“You’re good, it’s okay” I hear a soft voice say. I can feel my lip quivering, I feel like if I open my eyes the tears brimming at my waterline will actually fall.

“can you open your eyes?” It sounds more like a question, and that voice sounds painfully familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I want to tell him that I can’t, that I’ll cry if I do and I’ll feel even more embarrassed. But my curiosity takes over me.

So I slightly blink open my eyes. I don’t open my eyes fully, just enough to see the person through my tears.

It’s Matt, looking down at me all concerned.

I blink my eyes open. at the sight I watch his expression relax just slightly.

He himself looks overwhelmed, and honestly I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m acting, or if he had a shitty day himself.

“You okay?” He sighs slightly. I watch as he licks his lips and swallows thickly.

I take in another deep breath trying to calm down. I nod just slightly, but while I do the tears in my eyes finally spill.

I feel my hot tears run down my face. Matt’s eyes immediately widen and his mouth opens slightly like he thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no please don’t cry.” He holds up his hands in front of my face as if he wanted to wipe my tears away but was holding himself back because he didn’t know my boundaries.

He looked miserable, like he was about to cry himself. And I just know that something this wouldn’t have him emotional like this on a normal day. At least I don’t think it would. But he seemed to be overwhelmed as well.

I scrunch my nose slightly sniffling in response. I glance back up at him and the sorrow in his eyes makes me want to sink into myself. I breathe out shakily.

Before I know it I’m bringing my hands up to my face and covering it. I tilt my head forward trying to stop crying, because crying in the school halls is just pathetic.

“I’m sorry. Fuck- can I touch you?” I hear his frantic voice. I appreciate that he asked first. I want a hug, but then again I don’t know Matt. But he just seems so genuine.

I overthink not responding to his question. My thoughts spiral at the sound of the sweet nothings and apologies leaving his mouth, only being back round noise.

Matt seems to notice that I’m starting to spiral. I feel his hand tenderly touch my wrist. I flinch slightly, and as soon as I do I feel him retract his hand.

Everybody deals with anxiety differently, some people like to be physically grounded others liked to be comforted some other way and I just knew that Matt was trying to figure out what to do without overstepping.

I’d tell him that it’s okay, or that he can hug me, but I literally can’t speak and I feel too embarrassed to let him see my teary face.

“I’m sorry, I’m-“ I hear Matt let out a breath. I know an anxiety breath when I hear one, he is panicking.

I decide to bite the bullet, what’s the worst that can happen. I look up slightly and peak through my fingers.

His hands are up and frozen. He looks almost frantic, Matt looks like the only way he knows how to ground me is by hugging me or something, but he seems unsure if that’s okay.

Despite myself I let out a little nod. Matt lets out another breath but this time he actually touches me, and I don’t flinch.

He holds my wrist and gently pulls my hands off of my face.

I let out a shaky sigh. I can’t help it when I let my head fall forward.

“It’s okay.” He says sweetly under his breath. He puts his hand under my chin as he picks my face up. Our eyes lock. I see the way Matt is also crying, tears running down his face too and I relax just a little.

He never seemed like the type to make fun of someone for crying, but especially not now.

“You wanna go to my car?” He says softly, not in a way where he is forcing me to do anything, but rather offering.

And honestly as upset as i am I have to weigh my options. Would I rather cry in the school hallways or in Matt’s car?

The best option would be to go to the bathroom, but Matt wouldn’t be able to come with, and honestly I would feel too bad leaving him alone at this point.

So I nod.

I feel Matt’s arm go around my shoulders as he hugs me for a moment. He turns me, and starts walking in a way where his arm is still around my shoulder keeping me close to him.

We walk out to the parking lot. I watch as Matt unlocks the car and opens the door for me to enter.

And by this point, if I go out this way so be it…

Before i can even register Matt is also getting into the backseat next to me.

We just look at each other for a moment. He breathes out another anxiety sigh.

“You want a hug?” And with that I don’t really know if he’s asking for me, or to comfort himself. But regardless I nod.

I feel his arms come around me and I sink into the feeling of his hug.

I’m uncertain if by tomorrow he’ll act like this all never happened, or if he’ll try to get to know me, because I’ve been wanting to know him for a while and I would more then gladly let him.

Masterlist

A/n: I know this is really short and I’ve been uploading a lot of angst recently. But I’ve been feeling sad, and every time I do write smut it’s for Kinktober. Soon you’ll get smut tho. Also this ended up a lot like crybaby. <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life

#sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo x reader smut #sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

[sincerelybubbles]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angst, resolved angst though!! i keep promises!! also, shower scene but sfw !! i am just a slut for an innocent shower scene

part 1

Spencer doesn't come back that night and you sleep alone in the bed. It's too big, too empty, too quiet.

Your morning feels liquid without him. He usually makes the coffee, you figure out lunches. Brushing past each other, gentle hands, gentler smiles.

Everything feels hollow -- off-kilter. You're late to work for the first time in years, running behind with raw eyes and no reminders of the time shouted across the room.

Of course, you're used to the mornings that he's away. When he's in a different state you do this alone all of the time, but it's punctuated with texts and calls and promises that this isn't your new normal.

But now, the possibility hangs low over your head, a storm cloud dripping steadily over you as you work.

Annoyingly, the weather doesn't reflect your mood: it's sunny, there's a breeze, leaves cover the ground. It's the sort of weather you would convince Spencer to take a walk in. It's the sort of weather that, eons ago, he would have noticed and brought you out to walk in without you asking first.

It's not easy to notice when the shift happened. One moment he was exactly who you fell in love with: passionate about his job, sure, but equally excited about you. But, slowly, he changed. Like ice melting in water left outside, the parts of him that made every moment apart worth it slid down the glass and evaporated. The Spencer left is vacant, reading files at home even when you know he doesn't need to. He hasn't planned a date in months, hasn't texted you because he read something new that he wanted to share, hasn't seemed to see you for longer than a few seconds in weeks.

You tried to bring it up to him but the conversation was put aside because of a work call. He had to go but he pressed a kiss into your hair, hugged you tight, and promised you would work on it. Together.

That was over a month ago and he's made no effort. If anything, things have gotten worse. You can't remember the last conversation you had with him that had any true substance.

"Alright, go home." Your boss' voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you into the now.

"Sorry?"

"Go home, get some sleep, you look like shit," he says, shaking his head at you. "Don't argue, you're only missing a few hours, we'll survive without you."

Thanking him, you gather your things and begin the walk back to your car, scattering the fallen leaves with your feet.

You try to think of anything else as you get in the car, turning on music. It's hard, but you do it. You think about what to cook for dinner, what chores need to get done, mundane things that usually plague you.

You don't think about if you still have a relationship. You refuse the thought every time it creeps into your mind, shaking your head as if to physically remove the thought.

Spencer's car is in the driveway when you pull in. You put the car in park and stare at it, letting your head slowly fall forward and cheek rest on the steering wheel. He was so rarely home in the middle of the day on weekdays. You're not sure if you're ready to face him but know you have no choice.

With a sigh, you get out of the car and make your way into the house.

You can hear him moving around in the kitchen when you push the door open. Quietly, you slip out of your shoes and set your things on the table. Without saying anything, you go to your bedroom and start the shower.

You're tired of always initiating the conversations. You're tired of seeking his attention, practically begging for it, only to be shut down. Let him come to you if he's really sorry -- if he even is sorry.

You've been in the shower less than a minute when you hear your name being called. The bathroom door opens and you can just make out Spencer's head poking inside the room through the shower curtain.

"Hello?" He asks, stepping inside.

"Hi."

"I didn't hear you come in." You don't answer him, wetting your hair instead. "Can I sit?" He asks after a moment, his voice hesitant.

"Sure, if you want."

You watch as his shadow crosses the bathroom and he sits on the toilet, slouched, forearms resting on his knees.

"I was an idiot last night," he starts. You stay quiet, silently agreeing as you begin to shampoo your hair. "I can't honestly say anyone or anything is more important than my job. And I know you understand that, you've always understood that. I mean, I'm saving lives. Protecting people. What I do, it's important."

"I know," you say, softly.

"I know you know," Spencer says, just as softly, voice hurt. "But that doesn't mean you're not important or that I can treat you as less of a priority. Because you are, you know. A priority. Pretty much my main one."

You hang your head under the warm water, watching it drip through your hair and take the suds away with it. The soap runs down your arms, down your legs, and swirls around the drain. Steam lifts over the curtain, filling the air and making your eyes hazy.

There isn't much to say other than, "I haven't really felt like one."

"And I was an asshole when you tried to tell me, I know." Spencer rubs his hands across his face, voice agitated.

"What happened?" You ask, eyes still trained on the drain.

"Nothing, really. I think I just let myself get too sucked in. I mean, you've always been so consistent in my life, even before we got together, that I just sort of always expect you'll be there for me."

"I will," you admit, leaning against the wall of the shower so you can watch his shadow move as he speaks. It's true, you'll always be there for Spencer.

Spencer shakes his head, leaning forward and resting it in his hands. "You shouldn't have to if I can't prove the same is true in reverse. I should be just as consistent. I used to be just as consistent. I prided myself on how well I managed our relationship and our job. I got too comfortable, too cocky, too sure that I couldn't fuck this up that I ended up doing just that."

"I don't think you've fucked this up." Spencer laughs, low and harsh, lifting his head to look at the ceiling. "No, really. I think you just fucked up but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

"You deserve better."

"You are better, Spencer. I know you are. You're just going through something. I don't know what, I don't even think you know what, but if you let me in, we can work through it together. Just, you can't push me away."

"I don't even want to push you away, that's the thing. I can tell when I'm doing it but I can't figure out how to stop."

"Well, this is the best way to start. By telling me. I trust you. I trust us. Do you?"

"I trust you," Spencer says, voice breaking. "And, yeah, I trust us."

"Then that's all we need, no?"

He joins you in the shower a few minutes later. All innocence, helping you wash your hair and letting you wash his. The water is warm, you're in each other's spaces, not talking but just together.

It's the mundane task that truly starts to make you feel better. He's gentle as he works conditioner in your hair, eyes shut in peace when he bends down for you to run your fingers through his.

He jumps out before you to grab your towel, opening it and wrapping you up before hugging you. Warm, steady, he rubs small circles on the nape of your neck, under your dripping hair, where he holds you close.

"I was going to make dinner, I was making a list when you walked in," he says when the two of you make your way back into the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you to be home yet."

"I was sent home early because I looked tired. Well, he actually said 'like shit' but I know what he meant." You send him a sarcastic smile as you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning forward to look at his grocery list, puzzling out what he wants to cook. "What about you? Why are you home so early?"

Hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, Spencer shrugs. "Today is pretty much just a paperwork day. I got what I needed to get done out of the way and went home. The team was confused but they'll be fine."

"You left early?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and your gaze to watch him.

"Like I said, you're a priority, too. You deserve to be treated like one. I can't leave early most days, but the ones I can ... you deserve that, at the very least."

You stand, shuffling over in your socks, to hug him around the waist. His hands come to wrap around your shoulders without hesitation, smoothing over your hair.

You stand like that for a minute, his grasp firm, your nose pressed into his neck.

"We're going to be okay," you whisper, just as much for him as yourself.

"Of course," he replies.

here u guys go, luv u <3

i have something else (much much better writing quality wise imo) in the drafts so keep an eye out!! this is just a silly little thing but i still enjoyed seeing ur guys' reactions to it !!

#bubbs.writes #fluff #criminal minds #x reader #cm #angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid angst #resolved angst #part 2 #spencer reid resolved angst #hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds x reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting my partner meet my parents?

I (26 “F” (closeted nonbinary passing as cis for safety reasons)) am queer, formerly out as a lesbian which my parents knew about for the past 10 or so years. They didn’t accept me at first and it caused serious issues, but around 3 years ago they begrudgingly decided I wasn’t literal satan spawn and don’t need to go to conversion therapy.

The thing is, they’re still very viciously transphobic, and my partner (26M) is a trans man. I never updated my parents on my labels because I don’t talk to them often, and I know they will throw a hissy fit about the mere existance of a transgender person instead of judging him as a person after meeting him. My mom spouts all sorts of transphobic rhetoric whenever I see her because she’s been keeping up with our state’s politics, and she also posts it on facebook all the time. She’s more against trans women than trans men but she still says awful things about both. She’s a bigot.

We’ve been together for a year now. His parents are supportive of him and our relationship and I’ve had dinner with them about 6 times. Unfortunately, his parents have started seriously pressuring him into meeting my parents, which I’ve always shut down in conversation. They apparently told him that it’s a “red flag” that I won’t let him meet my family.

So he asked me why he can’t meet my parents and I said it’s because they’re bigots. It’s true, they will actually say offensive stuff TO RANDOM TRANS PEOPLE they see just existing and minding their own business in public. I don’t want to expose my partner to that. He says he can handle it, but I told him the idea of my parents saying awful things to him makes me angry and uncomfortable, to which he shifted the blame to “me being embarrassed to be with him”. He then brought up that my parents initially rejected me but then came around years later.

I then told him that my parents are physically abusive, when things get bad at home in arguments I often get things thrown at me / hit with stuff. Yes, I’m an adult, I know it’s fucked up and why I don’t visit them if I can help it. He didn’t understand and said to just “call the police” on them if they got physical.

Part of me feels like maybe I should just bite the bullet and bring him to meet my parents and then deal with the shitstorm that will follow, but it’s really avoidable stress that I don’t want to deal with so I stood my ground. My partner keeps warping it into a “trust” thing and refuses to see my side of the situation.

Adding this as INFO bc I feel like people would ask, my partner is visibly a trans man and cannot pass as a cis man or a cis woman in a way that my parents would be “fooled” by, nor would I ever ask him to do something like that for me.

#aita #am i the asshole

[pennylanefics]

Homecoming - Andrei Svechnikov

a/n: got this done in one day :) i love this man so much ugh. also not quite sure if the translations or spellings for the words in russian i used are accurate, but i wanted to include that :)

summary: andrei goes back to russia for a few months, but you aren’t able to go with him

word count: ~2.1k

another a/n: tumblr is stupid and wouldn't let me format the text messages properly, so the italicized responses are from the reader, bold and italicized are from svech :) his messages are clearly labeled, but just a little warning that it's formatted strange because of this dumb app

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper against Andrei’s chest, your arms wrapped around his waist. He holds you close, his hands running up and down your back softly.

“I’ll miss you too, malysh,” he murmurs into your hair. Tears fill both of your eyes as you stand in the middle of the airport terminal, not wanting to leave him just yet.

Andrei was going back to Russia for a few months to visit family and reset after a tough season. He needed to get away and that meant going back home.

“I wish you could come with me,” he says, cupping your cheeks with his hands, his thumbs catching all the tears that fall from your eyes.

“It’s really difficult to take off work right now,” you sigh, leaning into his touch. “Plus, you should spend time with your family and friends, don’t worry about me.”

“You are the love of my life, of course I’m going to think about you,” he sheepishly replies, a blush creeping up to his cheeks. You smile up at him, feeling your own face heat up under his hands.

“Maybe some other time, when it’s not short notice.” He nods eagerly and smiles sweetly at you. He checks his watch and sighs, his smile falling and replacing with a frown, realizing that he needs to get going soon.

“I should, uh, I should go,” he says reluctantly, clearing his throat as he gets a little choked up. You nod and inhale sharply, not wanting to cry, but realizing that he won’t be by your side for the next three months or so, was finally settling in.

“I love you, Svech,” you whimper, falling into his chest again, crying uncontrollably this time. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, honey,” he says in your ear. “I’ll make sure to find time to call you every day.” You nod against his shoulder and pull away, wiping your tears. Andrei’s eyes soften and he swats your hands away playfully to do the job for you.

“I love you,” he tells you, kissing you sweetly, your tears mixing between your lips. “So so much.”

“You better go before you’re late,” you tell him, pushing his chest back a little. He laughs and nods, stepping away from you with his suitcase. He blows you a kiss and waves to you, turning around to get in the security line.

You slowly walk out of the airport and back to your car, trying your hardest not to break down, but you couldn’t help it. As soon as you fall into the driver’s seat and your door shuts, you sob loudly, resting against your steering wheel, trying to catch your breath through it all.

A few minutes later, you get a text from Andrei with a photo of him at his gate, a frown on his face and tears evident in his eyes.

From: Svechy 🩵

I miss my love already :(

You laugh a little and save the photo, setting it as your lock screen.

I miss you too, my dear. It’ll be a long few months but we can get through it. Text me when you are boarding and when you land <3

From: Svechy 🩵

Promise. Be safe heading home

You love react the message and connect your bluetooth to your car, backing out of your parking space and exiting the garage, thinking about your boyfriend the entire drive back home. Once you park in the drive way, you stare up at the house that you’ve practically moved into. You promised to watch over his house while he was gone, and now, you were beginning to wonder why you agreed to do so.

Maybe it was because you would be surrounded by him while he wasn’t physically here. His bed would smell like his body wash and cologne, his sweatshirts would be full access to you at any point of the day, and photos of him would be all over the place, giving you the chance to look them over and see him when he wasn’t available.

Stepping into the house, you set your bag on the coat rack shelf, kicking your shoes off underneath it. Dragging your feet to the living room, you fall onto the couch and sigh. Just then, you get a text from Andrei, letting you know that he’s boarding now and that it’s going to be a long flight there.

You exchange a few more texts with him before he has to turn his phone off for the beginning of the flight. He paid for in-flight messaging and entertainment, so you would be able to contact him throughout, but you figured he would want to sleep and rest, especially with the time change.

As the hours tick by, the house was far too silent for your liking, so you decide to run some errands and do some shopping for some retail therapy. After three hours and five stores later, you return to his house, ready to unpack all the things you bought, which included some new books, some food and snacks for this week that he didn’t have in his house, and some little trinkets you thought would look nice around his home, to make it feel more like your space, for the time being.

Hours later, you are curled up in Andrei’s bed, reading your book and listening to some music quietly in the background. Your phone dings with an incoming text, and you finish reading the paragraph you were in the middle of before picking your phone up, finding a text from Andrei.

From: Svechy 🩵

Just landed. My friend is picking me up. Really early here

He sends a couple pictures, one of his exhausted looking self, his usual white baseball cap on backwards, his eyes drooped with sleep. Also included was a picture of the beautiful sunset coming up, the sky filled with clouds and a gorgeous orange hue.

Glad to hear that, baby. I hope you have the best time there, I think it’ll be good for you

From: Svechy 🩵

I’ll still be thinking about you every day I’m gone, moy med ❤️

Your heart soars in your chest as he uses one of the pet names he calls you in Russian, putting a smile on your face. You receive another text from him before you can respond.

From: Svechy 🩵

What are you doing?

Reading a new book in your bed

You send him a photo of yourself, which he reacts to with a heart almost instantly.

From: Svechy 🩵

You are so beautiful. I don’t know how I’m going to survive these months without you

You’ll survive ❤️ we can get through this, it’ll be over by the time we know it

You hoped your words would reign true. But sure enough, even though these three months dragged on more than either of you were expecting, he was soon texting you that he was heading to the airport and would be on a plane back home in the next few hours.

Somehow, you managed to stay relatively sane through this time apart. Andrei made time to call you at least once per day, and if he didn’t, he would still be texting you and letting you know how his day was going.

There were some nights where you cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be held by him but knowing he was thousands of miles away. You tried not to tell him of your current state some nights, not wanting to worry him or make him feel bad.

But now, he was finally coming back home. Or at least to his second home that he’s made in the States. To welcome him back, you decided to make a sign to hold up for him to see while you wait for him at baggage claim, and you were so excited to see him again overall.

Because he had messaging on the plane, he makes sure to text you updates every now and then, with the estimated time that he’d be landing, to let you know when to head to the airport and wait for him. 

Soon, you find yourself parking in the same garage that you were in months ago, crying as your lover left for his home country. Now, you were eager to actually be here, to see him again, to be in his arms, feel him.

You arrive about an hour before his plane is supposed to land, sitting in a chair with your sign, your headphones on, listening to music to drown the loud airport noises surrounding you. You get a text after sitting there for a while that his plane just landed, and immediately, your heart starts to race.

You were starting to get antsy and jittery, your hands shaking at the thought of seeing your boyfriend after so long; tears were already forming in your eyes, and you knew the second he appeared in your vision, you would be a mess.

Before you know it, Andre is trudging towards the baggage claim area, where you are standing, holding up your sign that reads ‘Happy (second) Homecoming’ in big letters. He has his usual white hat on backwards, hiding any signs of bed head that he didn’t want to deal with.

As soon as he sees you, he quickly rushes over to you and drops his things by his side, swiping you up in his arms and spinning you around, just like they do in movies. Your sign gently falls to the ground next to his stuff as you focus on being back in his arms.

Just as expected, your tears burst out at the moment you feel his arms around you, colliding into his chest. His grip on you is deathly tight, not wanting to let go of you for a second.

“I missed you so much,” he cries into your neck, his own emotions taking over. You could tell his accent had gotten thicker again, using his first language for so long once again and not being used to speaking English.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you whisper against his shoulder, your tears producing a wet spot on the black fabric.

“Me too. I never want to be away from you for that long,” he replies, pulling away to get a good look at you. His hands cup your cheeks and he stares deep into your eyes for a moment before his own eyes flicker over every single feature of yours. 

You do the same, noticing how he hasn’t shaved in a while, and how he looks much more well-rested and refreshed. As much as he missed you, he can’t deny that this trip did him a lot of good, and you were glad that it did.

Andrei brings your face closer and crashes his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, all of his emotions in the past few months pouring into it. Your head spins from the feeling of his lips on yours after all this time, your hands wrapping around his neck to keep him in place.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips as the kiss breaks. “Move in with me.”

His words make you freeze, and you pull back to look into his eyes.

“What?”

“I want you to live with me. I don’t want to be away from you like that anymore. I want to wake up with you beside me, fall asleep with you in my arms, make breakfasts and dinners together while music plays through the house. I want you with me all the time.”

His words make you tear up again, so this is what he was thinking when he was away; it was comforting knowing he was dealing with the same sort of issues that comes with short term long distance.

“I would love to, Andrei,” you smile widely, cupping his cheeks and kissing him once again. “I spent so many nights wanting to be in your arms again and I think living with you would solve so many of my problems.”

He laughs at your slightly joking comment and wipes your cheeks to rid the tear streaks.

“Great. Because as much as I loved visiting my home country, my new home is here. With you.” Your heart beats rapidly as he says this, a blush covering his cheeks as well. “I like your sign, by the way.”

He lets you go to pick up the thin poster board, looking over it and laughing at the tiny ‘(second)’ you included between the two large words. 

“I know this isn’t your true home, so I thought it was fitting.” He shakes his head at your words and wraps his arm around you again.

“This is my true home now. And even if I ever leave North Carolina, wherever you are, will be my home, moya lyubov’.”

malysh - baby

moy med - my honey

moya lyubov' - my love

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagines #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fanfic #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

stalker!reader/unsub!reader for spencer reid

tw: mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of murder, usual CM gore, suicide.

-noticing him one day when he was at your job for a case asking questions about a victim/killer. i’m gonna say season 4 reid (before he gets shot in the leg). you were stuck to the shadows just observing him and his colleague when boom! his eyes meet yours and you feel a spark, your body tingles. he noticed you.

-he walks away from his colleague who was talking with your boss, towards you, hands in his pockets and this long wavy hair swaying with his motions. he stopped three steps away from you and said, “hello, i’m doctor reid, with the fbi. i was wondering if i could ask some questions about…” his voice was deep and smooth, he pulled you into a hypnotic trance. you just nodded and answered his questions honestly.

-he came back a second time, just saying that the case was over. that was it, you weren’t even personally involved, but he came back for you. he must’ve felt that same spark, that pull to someone magnetic. he even gave you his card and said, “if you even are in area or in need of help, just ask for me.” now how could you not be obsessed with that man after that.

-so you started to follow all the cases the fbi or bau was mentioned, hoping for a glimpse of the names spencer or dr. reid. you kept a folder of photos captured of him from news footage or newspaper articles, red inked hearts circled his head while anyone else was harshly scrubbed away in black ink. his gentle smiles or lovely eyes pierced at your heart each time, it was slowly bleeding into your lungs filling you up to suffocation. you need spencer reid.

-when cases went quiet you started to search relentlessly for him online. you forced yourself to ingest every thesis paper he’s ever written and watch any lecture that was posted. he drew you in with the wave of his hands or how he would ramble then bring himself back to the topic at hand. how you wanted to pick his brain, just sit and listen to him for hours taking about anything he’s stored away.

-it’s been a year since that case. you miss him, you want him in your grasp. maybe you should put that business card to use and just call it, that’d be a lot easier. so you mustered up the courage, pulling the card from your wallet and dialing his number you breathed slowly and pressed call. the line rang three times before it picked up and you heard his voice, “dr. reid, how can i help?”

“uh, this is y/n…” he said he’d remember you so you just gave your name for recognition. the line was quiet for three seconds and you could hear some faint chatter on his end before he responded, “i’m sorry, i- i don’t seem to-“ and you hung up the call before he could break your heart further. he lied.

-it was like you just went through a breakup for a relationship that wasn’t even real. your bleeding heart completely cracked and spilled like fire through your veins. spencer reid is going to regret ever forgetting you and his promise. so you started to do some studying, researching past cases with the bau involved, looking for inspiration from convicted killers

-you find some that were unique but still easy to accomplish with your own physic in play. most of these killers were men, stronger and taller than you. you start to craft your calling cards, poems and roses, anything symbolic to a relationship and heartbreak. you’re nervous your first night on the hunt. you decide to go a bar and wait for someone to make their way into your web.

-you’d dance on them and kiss them, closing your eyes shut and imagining this it what spencer would taste like, how his hands trailing over your curves would release butterflies in your belly. his breath ghosting along your pulse before sucking a bruise into your skin. “wanna get out of here?” seductive eyes watching your toy nod and drag you behind him out the club, heading to his place.

-the make out session was hot and getting steamy, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. you played the kinky card, “gonna tie you up and gag you, be a good boy.” left in nothing but his boxers he was bond and gagged. playing a teasing game you left him alone while looking for some type of weapon. pulling a pair of black gloves from your clutch and the pointiest knife from a drawer you dragged yourself back to his bed, straddling him at the waist, keeping your hands behind your back. “you’ve made this night very special. wanna know why?” playing coy while pulling the gag down from a second.

the toy cocked a brow with a shit eating smirk, “of course, doll face.” his eyes dropping to your chest and it caused you to grimace. “you’re the first victim of many.” whispered as you slid the fabric back into his mouth

“wait wh-“ muffled when you stabbed him with an angered forced into his heart. his screams were still loud but with music playing in the background and his mouth full, no one would be the wiser.

-you called in sick for the next few days, needing to be consistent for the bau to be called in. you’d go to clubs or even strip clubs, any place that’d have willing men bring you home preying on you while you were the pretender. you kept the killings pretty simple, just stabs to the heart and letting them bleed out, you started to draw heart on their walls from their blood, the red turning black when drying. and finally before leaving a folded note with a poem or a piece of your soul written out was safety pinned to their skin.

-the news started to call you ‘the heartbreak killer’ stupid, but they always wanted to give killers case names. adding a new flare to your lastest kill, you’ve scattered red and white rose petals over their body and a ruby red kiss to their cheek. your fifth victim in a week period. you had a hunger for it now, killing gave you an adrenaline rush that was better than any rollercoaster or scary movie, you vibrate with excitement each night. you started dressing more bolder, wearing wigs even, making sure you stood out for anyone that was connected to your toy of the night.

- “we’ve called in the fbi behavior analysis unit to help us find this serial killer. with them here we plan to catch them before there is another victim.” goosebumps scattered over your forearms hearing the sheriff’s announcement. finally, he’s here. your spencer reid came for you. “in do time, my love. we’ll be reunited properly.”

-you took a sixth life the night they arrived, wanting them to know your usual stalking grounds. it would be easier to ‘accidentally’ bump into spencer, rather than actively search him out. so the next day you dressed down, wanting to look more normal, become a wallflower. you were nursing a drink in a shaded corner with watching eyes surveying the crowed hoping to see the tall dr. reid. “uh, excuse me, miss.” your heart skipped a beat, it recognized his voice even over the thumping music rattling your skull.

you turned his way casually and said, “you’re very pretty,” sipping on the black straw of your soda. spencer smiled hesitantly and floundered for a response, “uh tha- thank you. i’m dr. spencer reid i work with the fbi-“ he flashed his badge and you caught a glimpse of a younger photo, “there’s been a series of murders in the area and we suspect the killer visits here. have you seen anything suspicious lately?”

your nostrils flared, he still didn’t remember you not even face to face. “well all men are suspicious in clubs,” dulled chuckles at your retort. you saw spencer’s eyebrows quirked, “are- are you by yourself?” he sounded concerned for a stranger, but you weren’t a stranger. “yeah, my friends left me a few hours ago but i just didn’t want to go home yet.” shrugging him off.

he licked his lips, “well i’d suggest not visiting his establishment for the time being.” “but all her victims are men, so i’m safe. but thanks for the concern, nice to meet you doctor.” and you left the crowded bar with a smirk knowing you gave him a hint.

-you went to work the following day, just telling your coworkers you came down with food poisoning and needed and extra day to recover. they cooed over you but you knew most of them didn’t care, its fine you weren’t planning to stay here forever like most. you were cleaning tables and fixing displays when there was a tap to your shoulder. brittany, a coworker, pointed over her shoulder and said, “there’s a spencer reid here to see you. says he’s with the fbi.” you had to repress your smile.

“dr. reid, pleasure to see you again.” a welcoming smile and open posture. he cocked his head, “i- i remember you. from last year…” it’s like you could see his gears turning and clicking things into place. you didn’t bother denying anything just saying, “wow, what a great memory you have.”

his round eyes stared into your soul, “eidetic memory. you called me a month ago…” now you showed confusion, “no i didn’t. sadly lost your card, but i’m safe. we should have dinner while you’re here.” being bold.

spencer nodded his head, “that sounds nice. tomorrow night works for me, i could meet you here.” he seemed excited to have a romantic date with you. your heart raced, “it’s a date.” and you headed back to your work.

-you changed into date appropriate clothing once you clocked out and waited five minutes outside before you saw the tall spencer reid walking up to your side. he had a sweater vest over a button up with a tie around his neck, his gun wasn’t holstered to his hip for the night and his hair was a bit wind swept. you could eat him up.

“bet you have a bunch of girls after you while away on cases.” walking beside him when he suggested an chinese restaurant just down the block. he chuckled, oh your heart stuttered at the melody, “not really. most people don’t like my… personality.” sneaking a glance at you.

“well they’re missing out, but happy since i’m the lucky girl at your side.” looping an arm through his and pulling his close so you could lean your head onto his bicep. “i’ve dreamed of this since you left.” sighing into the air then pressing a kiss to his fabric covered skin, later you’ll get to taste him.

- “i have a question for you.” it’s been an hour into your date, stomach filled with delicious food and effortless conversation. you nodded at spencer to go forward. “at the bar you said the unsub was a women, what made you think that? no sex has been mentioned in the news yet.”

you pursed your lips in thought, “well, stabs to the heart seems emotionally personal. and the hearts in blood and rose petals, along with her leaving love poems. only a hopeless romantic that was horribly heartbroken would do this art.” slurping noodles into your mouth for punctuation. you weren’t trying to hide your truth, “it was the only way to get your attention.”

- “my attention?” spencer questioned. “well, i’ve missed you and when i tried calling-“ “so that was you.” “and you lied about remembering me!” slamming a fist onto the tabletop forcing it to shake. you leaned in close, “i thought we had something special. you didn’t bother trying to reach me in anyway and i’ve stayed updated with your career.”

“i- im sorry, y/n. my job is just very demanding. i would’ve reached out. i- i didn’t think you felt the way i did.” spencer stretched a hand over the table and rested it atop yours, his long fingers curling along your wrist.

“oh baby, the spark when we first met was instant. i was devoted to you the moment our eyes met, i’d do anything for you.” allowing your other hand to creep up spencer’s arm. “i’d kill myself for you if you asked, i’ve killed for you. would you do the same for me?” doeing your eyes and pouting your lips.

spencer leaned forward, his eyes dropping to your lips then back to your eyes, “anything for you, my love.” whispered just between the two of you. you smiled wickedly, “wanna head to my place?”

-once your door was unlocked and open you pounced onto spencer, hands holding his cheeks so you could press your lips onto his. his palms gripped at your hips and pulled your flush to his chest as his mouth devoured yours, moans ripped from your throat.

“fbi! hands in the air!” heavy footsteps and loud shouts broke the air. you didn’t bother acknowledging them, just submerging yourself into spencer until his arms twisted you around and held you in a tight hug. “don’t fight them. stay alive for me.” spencer whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

-six months. you’ve been institutionalized for six months since your lawyer pleaded insanity to the court. said you did everything because you started to stalk and become obsessive with doctor spencer reid. you didn’t bother mentioning that the killings made you feel stable. you’ve been sentenced for twenty five years to life, chances of parole after fifteen years. your family rarely visited you, you didn’t care. you only enjoyed visitation when he was there.

“the doctor is here.” an officer pulled you from the library to bring you into the visitation center. nervously you fiddled with your hair, straightening your beige uniform, wanting to appear put together for your boyfriend. he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, but he allowed you to call him that.

“hi baby.” sidling into your seat across from him, a gigantic smile hurting your cheeks. he wore his standard outfit, sweater vest over a long sleeve button up, no tie today and his collarbones were on display for you along with his forearms. “you look very sexy today.”

“and you look quite pretty today.” spencer visits you once a week at most, sometimes twice if he’s already in the state for a case. you heard it was cause your psychiatrist told him that your symptoms were worse if he was gone for long periods at a time causing you to act out and harm yourself or others. but you know it’s cause he loves you.

“what book are you reading today?” jerking his head to the worn spine. you peered down at the titles with a twisted smile then looked him dead in the eyes, “romeo and juliet. quiet the love story don’t you think?”

#erin writes #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #stalker!reader #unsub!reader

[chaithetics]

Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long. 

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace. 

“Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him. 

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile. 

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks. 

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss. 

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?” 

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you. 

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still. 

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip. 

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles. 

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris. 

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you. 

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb. 

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile. 

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer. 

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier. 

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

#kid monkey man x reader #monkey man x reader #monkey man x f reader #monkey man x plus size reader #monkey man fanfic #monkey man 2024 #monkey man movie #monkey man fanfiction #dev patel x reader #dev patel fanfic #dev patel fanfiction #dev patel imagine #monkey man kid x reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #plus size fanfiction #monkey man smut #monkey man fluff #fics for palestine #monkey man #dev patel characters #dev patel hive rise #chubby reader #chubby fanfic #monkey man film

[oddballwriter]

Nordic Bunny x Reader HC

Warnings: none really, but if there's anything that needs a warning feel free to mention it or contact me via inbox or DM 

Author’s Snip: I watched the Shred Force pilot yesterday and I'm in love with this nerdy loser. If anyone is interested in me writing things for Nordic Bunny then let me know and feel free to send something to my inbox!

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Nordic Bunny is an interesting boyfriend to have, that's for sure

He's very loud and vocal about everything, his happiness, frustration, disappointment, joy, and probably much more if we got the chance to see it

All the minions know who you are because he announces you, with a fancy pants title that he made for you that he makes all the minions call you, and if he sees someone so much as scoff at the mention of you then they ARE getting zapped

Nordic is clingy, so you are around him all the time both during his scheming and planning, but also when he just wants to hang out

Actually hanging out with Nordic seems like a very intimate thing, he seems to want to maintain his big bad grand imperial emperor and most extreme barer of awesomeness persona and wouldn't want someone to see him not performing that persona. But with you as his partner, he would gladly let you see such parts of him

He rants and vents about everything that is bothering him. Minions not doing as told or doing things right or the Shred Force foiling him again. Just listen to him, that's all he wants, just an ear to listen. You can rant and vent back to him so that you both can hear each other's troubles and be able to release them

Physical affection is interesting too

He's a robot alien rabbit cat bat thing so he's made of metal and built very uniquely, so cuddling may be weird at first, but with enough times, you'll be used to it

Kissing is funny. His cords are in the way so you can't really sneak a kiss, but he definitely wouldn't mind a regular kiss that isn't hidden. You can just push his cord out of the way and give him a smooch, and vice versa

He has a cat-like tail and I have declared that he has cat-like behaviors

He purrs, Nordic Bunny purrs, he purrs when he's happy and content. When you guys cuddle it's just purr city

His tail movements also mimic that of a cat, so he does the little tail flick that cats do when they're happy

#shred force #shred force x reader #nordic bunny #nordic bunny x reader

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER TWO (JEDDAH)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6k

warnings: hmmm nothing except heartbreak in several scenes lol

author's note: guys im really sorry but im pretty mean to paul here..... like it got to the point where i rewatched jeddah videos of him and physically felt ill because i was mad at him LMAO 😭 but we'll get through this together!! this was supposed to include some other scenes but it was long enough as it was sooo 😶 summary for this chapter ig is yn feels very torn between her boys, and so do i. hope everyone has a good week (it's finally race week again aaaaa) !! 💗

also i think the next chapter might be shorter because i just wanna get it out already and i don't have a lot to write about in it hehe, fingers crossed that i can finish it soon<3

(alsoooo i proofread this a few days ago but i just cant find the energy or time to do it rn, praying that there are no big issues…. if there are, i would be so thankful if you could send me an ask or message etc 🙏)

series masterlist

"i still can't believe i missed out on the top ten again. and by just three hundredths, even..."

pepe shakes his head as you both make your way out of the campos truck, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair before pulling on his red bull cap. you can't help but chuckle – he's been like this all day, and all evening yesterday. you understand it, though; finishing just outside the reverse grid pole once again must feel frustrating.

not that you can relate. with a much better qualifying session yesterday in your second-ever qualifying in formula 2, you managed to snatch an eight-place finish. in other words, you will be starting third in today's sprint race, and just the thought of the probability of getting some big points sends tingles through your entire body.

"you'll get it next time," you say with a pat on your friend's back. "i mean, look at ollie. from p-nowhere last week to pole yesterday. that can be you next time around."

you've just come out of your morning meeting – morning meaning starting at ten and ending around noon – and now you're finally getting some lunch in the red bull hospitality. even during a race weekend like this, with mostly evening and night sessions, you still managed to oversleep and almost didn't make it in time for your meeting. you didn't get to have any breakfast, you had to run all the way from the shuttle to the truck, and you even forgot one of your racing boots as well as your phone in your hotel room. thankfully, you'll still have time to go back to the hotel before the sprint race, but walking around without your phone feels like being naked.

"speaking of ollie," pepe starts as you turn left and head into the formula one paddock. "are things between you two... alright?"

your eyebrows furrow together at the pause in the middle of his sentence. "why wouldn't they be?"

"well, i..." he stops again, and it makes you want to shake him. "i heard something. but it doesn't matter."

"who are you to decide that it doesn't matter?" you scoff. "tell me."

pepe sighs – he knows fighting you over this is a losing battle. you're way too stubborn to let go of this. "i heard that you were having issues. that you aren't happy, or something along those lines..."

you stop in your tracks, brain working in overdrive to comprehend what your friend is telling you. not happy with ollie? why would you not be happy with him? "who told you this?"

pepe stops in front of you. "i heard it from kimi, who heard it from... paul."

"what?" your eyes squeeze shut as your hands interlace on top of your head. "why would kimi come to you? instead of asking ollie himself?"

"you know kimi," pepe starts instantly. "he's young and gullible. i think he wanted to go for the see-if-the-best-friend-knows-anything strategy instead of asking ollie straight out." his hands squeeze your shoulders softly and you look up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips. "i guess he was scared that ollie would get mad at him or something."

"it's just-" you sigh. "it doesn't make any sense, does it?" pepe is just about to say something more when you cut him off with a dismissive swat of your hand in the air, stepping away from him and continuing your walk down the paddock. "let's just forget about it. i need lunch."

pepe stands frozen for a few moments before hurrying up to you again. he can't quite read your mood – you look unbothered, but he can't help but notice the slight touch of redness of your ears and the way your eyes seemingly can't focus on one thing for long enough. there's no way you can be over it already.

with pepe shutting up for a little while for the first time ever, you're left all alone with your thoughts as you continue your stroll. you know you should've asked for more information; you should've asked for details, for exactly what kimi said and how he worded it. you probably should also ask kimi himself for what paul told him. but right now, it's like a shadow is clouding your vision.

how dare paul say something like that? he must've known that the rumors he made up would spread like wildfire, as they always do in the formula paddocks. the snowball effect can make something tiny become huge, which is why you're always cautious about rumors. but apparently, paul doesn't care about that.

you're far too enraged to think even straight, and that's why it takes pepe pulling your arm to make you stop walking. you frown – to be fair, your frown hasn't left since it appeared a few minutes ago – but when you realize what it is that he's pointing at, both your frown and your jaw drop.

there's a swarm of journalists and fans following a ferrari driver down the road in front of you, which isn't all that uncommon. both charles and carlos are always incredibly popular. but what blows your mind is the fact that when you finally catch a glimpse of the driver's face, it's neither of the team's main drivers.

it's ollie.

"ollie! mate!" pepe yells, his arm waving erratically over his head. it takes a moment for the brit to find the owner of the voice, but he's tall enough to look over everyone else, and he's soon making his way over to you both. "i know you're popular, but this all seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

"i don't know what happened, as soon as the news came out..." ollie lets out a chuckle before turning to you, eyebrows raised at your expression. "i've called you like a hundred times, what have you been up to?"

"i left my phone at the hotel-" you begin but cut yourself off and shake your head. "wait, what news?"

when ollie starts speaking, time slows down. the entire world around you goes dark, the only thing you can hear being ollie's explanation of how carlos needs surgery and the call he got as he was having lunch. you feel lightheaded, almost like you could faint, when he speaks his final words. "...and they said i will be the one to replace him. i'm driving the formula one grand prix tomorrow."

you don't waste any time before throwing yourself into his arms, a loud squeal passing through your lips. "are you kidding me?" you exclaim, hugging him even tighter. "this is incredible, ollie! oh my god, i..."

"i can't really believe it myself, to be honest," ollie says, shaking his head as you part from the hug. pepe slaps his shoulder, congratulating his friend. "i would love to stay and chat, but i need to be in the car for the last practice, and i have a lot to get done-"

"go! go!" you usher, softly shoving him away back towards the journalists and fans who are still waiting just a few meters away. "we will talk later, okay?"

"of course."

and then you watch him leave – your boyfriend, the soon-to-be formula one driver – with a much lighter heart. this definitely helps you forget about all of the things regarding paul.

at least for a little while.

but of course, pepe stops your train of thought. "does that mean i get the reverse grid pole?"

you've never ever been to the ferrari garage before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-practice duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the garage instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull race suit, even. great.

you were in the middle of preparations for your sprint race when ollie texted you, and since you still had some time before the race started, you made it over to the other side of the paddock as quickly as you could. but unfortunately, that meant that you didn't have time to change your outfit into something more discreet.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

"he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "i really need to go, because the sprint starts in..." you shoot a quick glance to the clock on the wall. "forty-five minutes. my team is going to kill me. but go out there and show them, baby."

and that's exactly what he did.

though, that's not the only thing you were correct about; your team was indeed furious when you finally made it back to the campos garage. your main engineer, who was supposed to help you get strapped in and fix all of the last details with the car over fifteen minutes ago, was apparently so angry he left you to do everything yourself. it's not that you didn't know about your schedule; you just needed to be there for ollie before his big debut.

everything works out in the end, at least according to you, and you're soon settled in your car on the grid, waiting to go on your formation lap. however, you've barely gotten as much as a glance from anyone on your team. you can't help but press the button to activate your radio. "i'm really sorry, guys. i just... had to do something."

"hope it was worth it." the voice of one of your engineers booms through your earpieces instantly, the sternness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "we got a huge fine because you were so late to get into the car, so..."

another of your engineers speaks up. "let's focus on the race instead now. no need to fight."

maybe it was because you got to visit ollie right before the race, or maybe it was just starting third and having a good car. either way, the sprint race was one of your best races in a long time. not only did you pass richard verschoor starting one place ahead of you into turn one; you also overtook paul, who started from pole, before the end of the first lap and got to lead your first laps in formula two ever.

dennis came around to steal the lead from you, but just landing yourself a spot on the podium was enough for you to celebrate. when you scored a second-place finish where the guy in first place was one of your former academy members, it didn't really matter that the guy on the third step of the podium was your ex-boyfriend.

going through all media duties is always exhausting, but it's usually never as dreadful as it is today. sitting in that press conference, knowing that your boyfriend is starting his first ever formula one qualifying in just a few moments. you have to literally bite your tongue not to pull a valtteri bottas and ask the journalists how q1 is going.

when you're this busy, you don't really have any time to think about paul's rumors. though, something about it continues to loom in the back of your mind all evening. especially when he speaks in the press conference, despite how hard you try to not even look at him, and especially when he's asked about ollie.

as the press conference finally comes to an end, you're not the only one who wants to hurry out of there to watch the rest of the qualifying session. you and the rest of the podium trio find a big screen that's showcasing the session, and you all insist that you should stay and watch, despite the f2 staff members' continuous attempts to squeeze the last drops of content from you.

they keep stuffing their phones and cameras in your face, throwing all kinds of questions about ollie your way, but you refuse to budge. you won't let them ruin this moment for you.

you're sure they've gotten quite a lot of embarrassing pictures of you teary-eyed while admiring your boyfriend's results, though.

you follow the timing board like a hawk, but something breaks you out of your trance. "who are you watching?" your head snaps to the direction of the voice – the f2 instagram admin with her phone pointed to paul.

as if you all haven't been watching and chatting about ollie for the last ten minutes.

you try not to, you really do, but you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of paul. he's trying to look all innocent, hugging his trophy to his chest as his big, blue eyes blink up at the screen in the distance. a year ago, you would've just thought he was adorable – but today, this frustrates you more than anything. "i'm watching my dear friend ollie," he starts, eyes finding the camera so easily.

dear friend, huh? a dear friend is someone you spread rumors about?

the next time he speaks up, you have to physically bite your tongue to not yell at him. "the guy who gave me one position on tomorrow's grid."

you turn your head away in pure disgust. how could he say something like that? is that the only thing he cares about, places in his starting grid for tomorrow's feature race? is he serious?

you want to escape, to just storm off and never speak to him again. but instead, you force yourself to take a deep breath and focus back on the thing you're here for. ollie is doing so well; when q2 ends and he has driven his last lap, he misses out on q3 by just over a hundredth of a second. he almost even manages to knock out the legendary lewis hamilton, his fellow countryman whom he's been following for as long as he can remember, in his first-ever qualifying session.

you've never been prouder.

"honestly, as long as i can just bring the car home without wrecking it completely, i'm satisfied."

you give ollie's hand a soft squeeze at his words, fingers intertwining as your hands rest on top of the hotel cafeteria table. your other hand lifts your sandwich to your mouth and you take a bite, chewing it down quickly before giving him a nod.

you know his statement is meant as a joke, but you know it's just as much of a truth as a lie. driving an actual ferrari f1 car is his biggest dream, and even just making an alright race probably is enough to make him happy. there's no pressure on him, no one is expecting him to perform a miracle or even score some points.

but at the same time, you know he would never be satisfied with himself if he "just" brought it home safely. ollie isn't like that; he's way too stubborn, too determined, too much of a sore loser. it's what makes him. no matter what he says, there's always going to be something inside of him telling him that he needs to do better.

"i think you'll score your first points today," you tell him with a shrug. "i can feel it."

"don't say that, we don't know anything yet."

a shake of your head in combination with that smile of yours is enough to make some hope spark in him. "well, you have the car for it," you start. "and you have the skills."

ollie stays silent, letting the distant chatter of the other hotel guests having their breakfast fill the air. the cafeteria is emptying out by now, but new faces have been dropping in for a long time now, most of them walking by to give ollie a pat on his shoulder or a quick "good luck, mate".

you put down the last of your sandwich, leaving it behind with the fruit rinds and other scraps on your plate. "but don't think too much," you hum, eyes softening as they land on his. he's trying to contain his worries and anxiety as much as he can, but the slight tilt of his eyebrows and the way his gaze tends to dart away every once in a while tells a different story. "it's just driving. it's just what you always do, no problem."

you hold your glass of orange juice up to him and he gets the hint, clinging his own glass to yours before downing the last of its contents.

you're just about to speak up again with new words of affection, but an icy feeling spreads through your body at the sight of paul entering the cafeteria. the feeling soon turns into real nausea, and you can't even remember what you were supposed to say when you realize that he's making his way towards the two of you.

you want nothing more than to stay and keep encouraging ollie, but you can't take it at this moment. you stand up from your seat, giving ollie's fingers one last squeeze. "i forgot that i have a meeting soon," you make up. "so i need to go. i'll come see you before the race, okay?"

he doesn't even get to say bye before you've stormed off.

unfortunately, you have to pass paul in order to make it to the exit, but you make no effort to even recognize that he exists. you keep your gaze straight ahead.

karl, paul's physio, does a quick greeting from you though – as well as a confused look at the candle pressed into a pastry in one of the hotel's yogurt bowls – but then, you're off to hide in your hotel room until you're needed at the track for race preparations.

of course paul had to come by and ruin everything yet again.

with a good race from yesterday in the bag, you thought you could keep the momentum into today. however, that didn't turn out to be the case.

when a trident driver hit you from behind in the first lap, you lost a few positions instantly and after that, it was a bit too tough to recover. you had opportunities for overtakes, and the car was good enough to go through with them, but you never could. you kept slipping up, making rookie mistakes, and falling back even further. it even got to the point where your team came on the radio to remind you to focus on the road.

but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't work. the entire race, something else clouded your mind.

or, more specifically, someone.

every time you even caught a glimpse of paul's silver car, it was like something in your mind short-circuited. the memory of your conversation with pepe, the thought about paul running around and spreading rumors about you in the paddock… you couldn't push the thoughts, or the anger, away.

other times, back in the day, you were always good at turning your anger into something positive for your races. if you were upset with your father for something he said about red bull or the junior program, you went out there and proved him wrong. if you heard that another driver had complained about how you just got your seat because you were a girl, you made sure to dominate the race.

your stubbornness was always your biggest strength. but today, it was like your tank had run out. as much as you wanted to completely crush paul, you didn't have the capability.

at least paul didn't have that good of a race, either.

the second you get out of your car, you storm off towards your garage. you know you'll probably get a lot of shit for your performance your entire debrief, but if you can at least get over with it sooner, then you can forget about it and refocus on the next race weekend. plus, you really want to catch ollie before he's away for his f1 debut.

thankfully, you're not the only one getting criticized during the debrief; the team is not very happy with pepe's start, nor his DNF. after they've gone on and on about how costly this weekend has been for the team for an hour, you're finally released, but not without one last reminder to "think about what you're doing here and whose time you're wasting".

it's natural to lose all energy and confidence after a race like this. but the second you're back in ollie's arms, it's like the world around you just disappears. he's always been the best at keeping you grounded.

you've probably never hugged him this tightly before, but you can't help it. the second your arms wrap around his neck, you pour everything you have into the embrace.

he looks so good, so handsome and professional dressed up in his ferrari race suit. not just his prema suit with the ferrari logo on it, but an actual ferrari outfit. he looks like a real f1 driver – and the realization that he indeed is a formula one driver now brings tears to your eyes.

"hey," he says around a chuckle. "don't cry on me, woman."

"i won't..." you reach up to wipe away a drop from the corner of your eye as you pull away slightly from his embrace, shaking your head. "i won't. i'm just so proud of you."

"why are you so sappy?" the scene in front of him brings a huge grin to ollie's lips – he finds you equal parts adorable and hilarious. "i'm just going out there to drive a car. no biggie."

"no biggie," you repeat with a scoff, dabbing your other eye quickly before doing your best to blink down your other tears. earlier today, you were the one saying all of this was no problem. and yet, now he is the one who has to convince you of it. "right. it's just your passion, the thing you love. but i'm still proud."

an engineer catches ollie's attention above your head, sending him a certain look that has your boyfriend nodding before giving you one last squeeze. "i think i should-"

"of course, go," you usher him, retracting from his arms. "i'll be here after, no matter what happens." he nods, and he's about to leave when you speak up one last time. "have fun, okay?"

"always."

who would've imagined that ollie would not only score points in his first ever f1 race, but also win driver of the day, have the most overtakes, and score a seventh place as the second best british driver of the race?

well, you had imagined everything from him coming last to winning the race by horse lengths. and yet, this was all so unexpected. if someone had told you on wednesday that ollie would score six f1 points three days later, you would've laughed in their face. but now, it feels like it's been a long time coming.

you weren't allowed to stay in the ferrari garage for the actual race – it would've been a pr nightmare for everyone involved – so your nerves were all over the place since you weren't able to hear ollie's radio messages, info about the strategies, and so on. at least you get to wait right outside the garage with jamie, chris and his dad david, being the first to congratulate him after such a good debut race.

he looks completely worn out when he finally walks out through the door, but you can almost feel the pride and happiness radiating from him. his sweaty hair rests messily on top of his head, and an ice vest is draped over his body already to cool him down from the insane heat. and, most importantly, the smile on his lips is bigger than it's been all week.

ollie looks like he doesn't ever want to let go of his dad's hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of david's neck for a long time. you can only guess what things the father is whispering in his son's ear, but when the result is ollie pulling him even closer, your heart expands in your chest.

when they part, it's jamie's and chris's times to congratulate the point-scorer, and when he pulls away from his manager's arms, his eyes land on you. you're pulled into his embrace in just a second, a giggle slipping past your lips when he lifts you up into the air and spins you both around. his strong grip around you never eases, not when he sets you down on your feet again and not when he starts speaking.

"i knew it would be hard, but..." he shakes his head, a sweaty fringe brushing against the side of your head. "my entire body is ruined. like, it doesn't hurt because i have so much adrenaline, but i'm going to be in so much pain later. my neck and my shoulders and-"

another one of your waves of laughter cut off his ramblings, and he joins in once he realizes what he's been doing. when you finally pull apart slightly and your hands come up to cup his cheeks, you're just staring into his eyes for what feels like forever.

your boy, the f1 driver.

"this is from your mum," you whisper to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "and this is from your sister." a kiss to his other cheek. "and... this is from me."

ollie has to crouch down slightly because even when you get onto your tippy toes, you can't reach all the way up to his forehead. but once you press your lips against his skin, all of the hidden tension in his eyebrows disappears. he's like putty under your touch.

"i'm so proud."

ollie's groans are muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into, head twitching when your thumbs press into some tense areas of his neck. you shush him jokingly, like a mother comforting a crying baby, but your movements never halt.

ever since he got out of that car, he's been complaining about how sore he is. especially his neck and shoulders, and all of the muscles that were most affected by the g forces. you don't blame him, however – he's got a free pass for pretty much everything for the next week, you think – but you decided to be a nice girlfriend and help him out. the strings of whines and swearwords he keeps letting out don't seem to be stopping anytime soon, though.

the lotion on your hands is enough for you to be able to glide your fingers across his upper back, along his shoulder blades, all over his freckled skin. as you're straddling his lower back, you can reach pretty much all angles of his upper body, and the knots in his muscles seem to be disappearing despite how painful your massage seems to be.

eventually, ollie tilts his head to the side, his blushed cheeks decorated with lines from the pillow underneath him. his slight pout is on full display and his tired eyes flutter closed as he speaks. "hey, y/n?"

"yes, ollie?" you reply, your thumb pressing into one especially stubborn knot in his right shoulder. ollie stays quiet for a few moments and takes a deep breath, almost as if he's gathering courage for something.

"you know that i love you right?"

the world around you stops.

everything freezes.

he loves me?

your breath hitches in your throat at the words. it's the first time he's ever said them, and though it's not the most uncommon thing for someone to tell their girlfriend of over six months, they make your head spin.

a mishmash of thoughts clouds your mind. they won't shut up for even a second. but the loudest thought is the only one you shouldn't have; it's about the only person you can't be thinking about right now.

the way that your mind instantly wanders off to paul is frankly embarrassing, but you can't help it. he's the first boy you've ever loved, the first person you've ever uttered those three words to. the only one. and no matter how badly you wish you could just forget about that and move on, he's still a part of you. he's your only real experience of love.

and this just isn't the same.

you want to say it back to ollie, you truly do. but at the same time, you don't want to say it if it isn't true – it's not fair to him.

ollie senses that something is up. your signs aren't exactly subtle, anyway; your movements have stopped completely and he can't even hear you breathing anymore. "hey, i'm sorry-"

"don't apologize," you interject instantly, shaking your head as you start to climb off his body. "you did nothing wrong. i'm the one who's sorry."

"stop that, you shouldn't be." he turns around, staring up at you with those big, brown eyes of his. "i don't expect you to say it back if you don't want to. i just..." he lets out a low sigh. "i wanted you to know, i guess."

you sit still for a few moments, before leaning down to place a kiss on his rosy cheek. "thank you." another pause. "it means a lot, you know?"

"well, you mean a lot to me."

and he does to you, too.

but is that enough?

ollie loves me.

he actually loves me.

he told me today after the race, and... i didn't say anything. i just sat there like a complete moron.

i couldn't say it back. i just don't feel what i felt for paul yet.

what's wrong with me?

why don't i race like i used to? why can't i control my emotions? was the sprint race yesterday just luck? did i really deserve that podium?

why does paul still affect me this much? why is he always there in my thoughts – when i'm racing, when i'm with ollie, when i try to sleep...

i have a perfect boyfriend and a great car, so why do i feel like everything is falling apart?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername p2 in the sprint 🥈 big thanks to the team for the hard work!! and i got to witness the rb p1-2 up close, congrats redbullracing 💙 also check slide 4 for an appearance from me and my former family on f1tv <3

show all 96 comments

user y/n and the prema staff during the driver's parade 😭 they're so cute

→ user her referring to them as her family, byeeee

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user why is no one talking about the last slide???

→ user because i can't talk while i'm crying, sorry

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great job this weekend y/n !!! thank you for signing my cap 🥺

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user loved to see her celebrate the red bull double podium even after a hard feature race ❤️

→ user she had to balance out the post with that max and checo pic 😭 would've been just ollie & prema otherwise

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user ollie looks like a baby in the second pic 🥲

→ user just a little boy playing with his toy cars

→ yourusername i had to hold his little teddy bear during the race to make sure it wouldn't get dirty

→ user stopppp you're so real for sharing that

#perfectly fine! #f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula one #paul aron #f3 #formula two #formula 2 #ollie bearman #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #fluff #angst #series #scenario #prema racing #ferrari driver academy

[zadr-lover]

What I Love About ZaDr mostly a rant about one ep cuz i do not have friends to talk to about this so you all most suffer.

They are perfect assholes for each other.

Like they are both miss understood outcast, even the ones who they are to look up to are ashamed of them because the way they think and act on things.

They are also both very toxic assholes who need each other. Like moppieness of doom! Zim gets depression and all his care for his mission just went away! Because Dib did not chase him or look at him. He even went to listen or watch the new with Dib being show and sigh and said so sad hearing his name! He even had papers with dib all over it. Zim even declared he would not become lazy or smoopy because the dib didn't try to chase him or get in his way and he should be able to rule cuz he is zim! yet moments later he goes to lay down on the couch because with no enemies what is the point? Dib getting the attention of his father was a plus for this Ep but also Dib was not that happy about it. He kept being gloomy and not fitting in there as well. Even know he and his father started doing so many amazing things like cure for the common cold! that was a cool detail to learn. But after all of that Dib was still not happy. But was doing it because it made his dad happy They both are in pain not physical but emotionally ! Like We do not see zim get upset much in the show but in this one. He legits cries and ask "Why does thing want to hurt zim" I know you can counter it with the fact he's crying over snacks but Shut Up I'm trying make a point here.

Even in the labs dib wounder where Zim is notching he has not been to school lately then tries to play it off like it doesnt matter. "Does not matter anymore. everything has changed expect talking to myself" i really love that part when dib even admits that he talk to himself which is beautiful btw. Anyways I also Know Gir only wanted Dib to hunt zim again to get the couch back. But even the dumb little guy knew that they are destined for each other! "Listen to me, He needs you Mary you two such good friends" like gir even points out how good they are for each other even if it's haunting and casing each other.

{SIDE NOTE: FUCKING LOVE THE WAY MEMBRANE HAS ROCKET BOOTS AND JUST COMES DOWN TO DIB TO SEE HOW THINGS ARE GOING IS HOT TO ME OKAY}

but also even if dib made a small mistake on the formula and stuff he was working on. membrane noticed it as a cry for help which sucks but, i do enjoy that he realizes his son is not happy and something is troubling him. Membrane telling him to do what ever it takes to fix the problem and dib gets the wide eyes we all fucking love and agrees with his dad, that he needs to fix the problem! "I fell empty inside! This real science bores me to death! Maybe I am not doing what I meant to do! Because what I'm meant to do is catch me that alien!"

Dib realizes at this point after talking to his father, he's only truly happy when he is a full outcast cashing an alien invader. {LOVE THE FACE PLANT MEMBRANE DOES ONCE DIB RUN OUT THE LAB}

The fact they both trash talk each other once dib came into the base and it was more of a playful banter then anything and they laugh as they do so. They seem happy to be by each other sides even if they are enemies.

anyways thank you for letting me rant. i love these guys so much.

#zadr #invader zim #zim #dib #dib membrane #iz #invader zim au #iz dib #gir iz #invaderzim #gir invader zim #invader zim rant #invader zim zadr #membrane labs #professor membrane #prof membrane #membrane

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Late Bloomer" (pt 1 of 2)

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female reader

Tags: human trafficking, dark!Lloyd, significant undefined age gap, older man/younger reader, daddy/girl, dub con with significant non con elements, first time, innocence kink, loss of virginity, exploitation, dacryphilia, size kink, dumbification, misogyny, squirting, forced orgasm, p in v sex, light degradation, pet names, oral sex: m! and f! receiving, sexual awakening, age play vibes, little!reader, but not really: she's just drugged and really really dumb.

Word Count: 5754

Summary: After a job, Lloyd suddenly finds himself with a veritable spoil of war in his bed. She's tearful, virginal, sweet, and dumb. He's really going to enjoy guiding her through her first sexual experience.

A.N.: The age gap is left undefined. The OF is not the girl from the movie, which I haven't seen. I don't write characters as explicitly younger than 18 on Tumblr, after having a foul staff member equate any and all teenage pairings with CSAM.

That said, this fic is dark. It was started as a way to check off some of my hardest Bingo squares without actually going there, with the themes that were outside my wheelhouse or too ick for me to write. My MCU Kink Bingo card in particular, has a few of these whammies.

He imagines her as a rose: fragrant and velvet-soft. Imagines crushing her in his hand, plucking her petals off one by one, until there's nothing left.

Lloyd's always loved ruining pretty things.

The job doesn't go quite as planned, but Lloyd can be a go-with-the-flow, adapt-to-the-demands-of-the-moment type guy when he needs to be, he gets creative, and in the end it all works out alright.

The not-insubstantial bounty for the Russian perverts is regrettably forfeited when he loses his temper and gives them the brutal executions that they deserve. But that money can be made back if he finds a buyer for the yacht, he's managed to eliminate a few deplorables, and he's gained himself an unexpected prize, to boot.

Not a bad day for doing crime.

They shove the bodies overboard and retire for the night, headed for their rendezvous with the Powerbroker in Madripoor. Lloyd's men handle the cargo, already under strict orders not to touch the younger ones, whom Lloyd figures he'll arrange to have dumped off at an embassy once they dock in Jakarta.

Maybe he'll call up The Nomad Formally Known as Captain America and tip him off. Asshole has been on his tail annoyingly much, these past few months. Lloyd should send the righteous old fossil a reminder that there are way bigger scumbags plaguing the planet than his little band of hired guns.

The older girls seem relieved to have been liberated and they don't put up much of a fuss when they're divvied up amongst Lloyd's crew for the evening. Lloyd's personal pick, the poor thing whom he'd had to physically wrestle away from Yuri with a flare gun pressed right to her head, has been locked down in a stateroom to try and calm her down.

Despite what some people say, Lloyd's not an inconsiderate monster, so he does freshen up first, showering all the blowback off his face and changing into something comfortable before heading below deck. He keys in the code for the room, which is large and lavish and looks exactly like something a Russian billionaire would design. All money, no taste.

The girl's on the bed. She's still crying, but it's a pretty type of crying, rather than hysterical or snotty; tears that enhance rather than detract; the type of thing a man can really appreciate, if so inclined.

Lloyd steps into the room, takes a deep breath and reminds himself to take his time with this. No sense rushing it and wasting a good thing. He's going to savor every moment.

She squeaks when she sees him there. "Oh!"

"Shh, sh sh," he soothes. "There there now. Why're you crying, Buttercup? There's nothing to cry about. Not anymore."

He shuts the door behind himself with a gentle sound, but even though he's cooing a slew of placating nonsense at her, she still cries out in a desperate little, "No!"

"Hey, it's okay."

"Nnngh ... s-stay back!"

Lloyd's cleaned himself up since their encounter above deck, but the poor thing did just watch him collapse Yuri's face in with a pipe, so he shouldn't be surprised that she's scared. "I'm not here to hurt you," he says, then pauses when he sees that it's the gun in his hand that she's staring fearfully at.

Oh. Right. That makes sense. He'd had the muzzle of the thing pressed against her temple not too long ago, after all. Maybe he should've left that out of sight. 

It's not like he'll need it to subdue her. Moving slowly and pointedly, he sets it down and holds up his empty hands. "There. It's not even a real gun, see? It was all for show, just a flare gun. It can't hurt you."

(Eh. True, it had been for show, but not so true that it couldn't have blown her brains out if he'd wanted it to. Whatever. Details.)

"It was just a little bit of drama, you understand? To make things go the way I needed them to up there. Men like that only respond to one thing." She blinks at him and he offers her a gentle smile. "L. Hansen. Freelance contractor, or rescuer, in your case. You're welcome."

"And ... those guys?"

He tuts. "Fish food, now. They've been taken care of." He takes a step closer, keeping an eye on her in case she's thinking of bolting. She still isn't here by choice, after all. As far as she knows, Lloyd is just the least bad of all the bad guys.

(Which isn't un-true).

He joins her on the bed, where she's still curled on her side, the odd sniffle and overwhelmed hiccup escaping her here and there. "Hey, hey, hey now." He crawls up beside her and forces her onto her back, which isn't hard to do with the fragile state she's already got herself worked up into. He shushes her fearful whimpers and tucks her hair behind her ear with a tender look. "You're real pretty when you cry, Angel, but I promise there's no need. Not anymore. That's all over, okay? I've got you now. You're safe."

The sweet thing sniffles and blinks up at him through clumped lashes. "I am?" she asks, the instinctive trust in her voice making Lloyd's cock thicken in his pants as he realizes that she's got about two brain cells to rub together. "Y-you promise?"

Oh, this is gonna be so fun.

He smiles down at her. "Yeah, Cupcake. I promise. You're completely safe with me." He taps her dainty little ski slope nose with a finger. "I bought you, remember? So that none of those nasty men can ever touch you again, only me. That's the rules."

For a second, the girl's chin wobbles, her eyes welling with uncertainty and the threat of more tears. But Lloyd's had enough of her being upset, doesn't have the patience to spend half the night calming her down when he's already exerted himself so much for her benefit already. Five guys are dead, his bank account is a couple hundred grand lighter (at least temporarily), he's lost the bounty he came for in the first place, and there are going to be a fascinating array of bruises on his body by morning. All this trouble, all this work for her. He's tired now, his day is over, he wants his payoff.

"Hey," he says firmly, holding her chin between two fingers. "I said: calm down. You're safe with me. Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore. You're just going to have nice things and feel good from now on. I'll take care of you."

She sniffles. "You will?"

Wow. She really is as dumb as advertised. Lloyd hums. "Sure will, Cupcake. Only nice things. Just so long as you be my good girl and do what I want. And that'll be easy as pie, because I'll always tell you what I want."

She bites her lip and lets it slip back out slowly between the grasp of her teeth. And the best part about it is that she's not even trying to be coy: she's literally just this clueless. "But," she hedges. "... what do you want?"

He smiles down at her and palms the side of her face. "Just you, Buttercup," he purrs, arousal and anticipation making his pants tight as he takes in just how beautiful she really is, with her porcelain-smooth skin and soft jaw, her baby-fat cheeks and wide, watery eyes. She really is like a doll come to life. 

Lloyd can't wait to wreck her. 

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, coaxing her with a kind expression that she gravitates towards. "Hm? You can tell me. I'm Lloyd."

She giggles and looks away. "That's a funny name."

"Is it?" He laughs along with her and nods. "Yeah I suppose it is. I didn't pick it, unfortunately. But I'm going to pick your name. Something real beautiful and delicate, just like you. I'm thinking some kind of flower. How bout that?"

An adorable little frown pinches in the space between her eyebrows. "What? But, my name is - "

"I know, I know," he cuts her off, already knowing what she's going to say. He sticks his bottom lip out at her in a playful pout. "But that's such a little girl's name, don't you think? We should pick something new, since you're starting over new with me. Something more ... fitting."

He lets his eyes drag up and down her faintly curved form, the body that somebody above deck decided would be best appreciated in a tiny cotton top and pair of pink panties. If it wasn't so cute, it'd piss him off: those creeps dressing her in little girl undies in their effort to hock her along with the rest of the wares. But anyone with eyes can see she's not like the other merchandise.

Lloyd trails one finger over her hip and into the valley of her waist, appreciating the particular season of life she's in. She's limber and nubile, body almost grown into itself. A still-green sapling that's not quite done taking shape, with branches that are still soft enough to be trained this way or that as she approaches womanhood. She's malleable, moldable. Ripe for the picking.

The night above deck may have ended up in violence, but Lloyd came on-board peaceably, under the guise of a buyer, and it hadn't slipped his notice that her age was pointedly left off the dossier. It means she's quite a bit older than she looks, and the sellers hadn't wanted to lead with that.

Despite the pleasure Lloyd got out of ripping those perverts' nuts off, he still knows the business, understands the concept of maximizing one's buyer pool. Sex traffickers gonna sex traffic, and all that. But even still, there's a reason he didn't mind forfeiting that bounty. He's no hero, but he's done his bit to help. Now he fully intends to reap the benefits that've fallen into his lap as a direct result of a bunch of Russian perverts also happening to be lying salesmen.

"I'm keeping you for myself," he tells her, with another affectionate tap on the nose. "You're a very special, beautiful girl."

Her eyes widen at what she clearly perceives as a compliment, and she leans closer in a way that's so honestly naive, it makes Lloyd wonder if the dealers "enhanced" her with anything, pre-sale. He won't complain if they did, he doesn't mind a braindead bimbo, but it'd be nice to know if this is all chemically assisted, or just a natural gift. The thought nearly makes him snicker when he has it: Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline lobotomy.

"You're special," he tells her again, trailing his fingers over her bare shoulder. "A real natural beauty."

She shakes her head bashfully. "No, m' not. I'm ... plain."

He scoffs, though privately he's thrilled (girls with low self esteem always give the best head.) "Honey, you wouldn't be in this room with me if you were 'plain'," he deadpans, not missing how she shifts and glances down at her body self-consciously. "Trust me, Sweetcheeks: men don't spend the kind of money that I just did, if what they're buying isn't astoundingly precious."

She squirms and her lashes lower onto heat-stained cheeks. "I dunno," she mumbles, embarrassed as she obviously recites someone else's words: "M' a late bloomer."

Lloyd laughs. "Well hey, that's okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. I'm glad."

"You ... are?" She peeks up at him and Lloyd smiles.

"Yeah, Baby. I am. Don't you know the best part about having a flower is getting to watch it bloom?" He thumbs at the little Botticelli cleft she's got in her chin and savors the shudder that travels through her body at that, enjoying the reaction, how hopelessly vulnerable she is. "You know," he muses, turning into her more and pressing her into the blankets. "I think that's going to be your name: Blossom. Would you like that?"

"oh—"

He cuts off that small, surprised sound by kissing her—slowly. He doesn't do much with it at first, because he wants to soak up her inexperienced reactions; wants to feel her hot little gasp of surprise and the softness of her lips pressed to his, her body stiffening and then liquifying underneath the foreign touch of a man. She doesn't know how to handle it, squeaking against his mouth and pushing up against him as his body presses her down.

"It's okay," he whispers. "You're just perfect, Little one. A perfect, tender blossom." His hand migrates to her waist and digs into all of that give, violence and lust bubbling to the forefront of his mind at how fucking delicate she is. He imagines her as a rose: fragrant and velvet-soft. Imagines crushing her in his hand, plucking her petals off one by one, until there's nothing left.

He's always liked ruining pretty things.

"Please," she whispers, trembling. Fuck.

He licks at the seam of her lips and lets his hand drag over her belly while he whispers: "I can't wait to see you bloom, Little flower." Dips inside with the tip of his tongue: "Watch you open up for me." Cups her over the front of her panties: "Watch you unfurl."

"Oh." She sighs, hips juddering reactively up against his palm and then squeaking at the jolt of pleasure it sends through her. Lloyd gives her more pressure and smiles right in her face as she gasps.

"That feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yy-yeah, but—oh! n-no ... wait, wait, I can't." Her hips kick up again and she whines at her own body's reactions. "Nnn, wait ..." Her hands grab at Lloyd's wrist where he's cupping her, but when he doesn't stop rocking his palm she grapples up at his shoulders instead, giving adorable little pushes that do absolutely nothing other than spur him on.

"C'mon Angel, none of that," he chides, slotting his leg forward in place of his hand so that he can reach up and coax her hands away from fighting him. He envelops her wrists and gently presses them into the blankets at either side of her head. And Jesus fuck, her wrists are tiny. He could hold both of them in one of his, easily. "Relax, Baby. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just want to make you feel good."

She whimpers when his clothed thigh grinds up against her core, her eyes getting watery again. "Ooh ..."

"Yeah. It's okay," he soothes, giving her another kiss, this time a little deeper, guiding her a little more while she writhes against the pressure of his thigh. "There you go," he praises, pretending that he doesn't know that her writhing is still part struggle. "See? Doesn't that feel nice?"

"P-please," she says, "I-I can't."

"Sure you can." He releases one of her wrists and laces their fingers together. "Just relax. I've got you."

"But, I've never," she cries. "Please, I don't ... I've never ... "

"Oh, Sweetheart." Though he'd figured she was a virgin, hearing her whimper it up at him so sweetly has his cock throbbing against the seam of his joggers. He nuzzles her cheek and coos, "You trying to tell me you've never been with a man, is that it?" She keens in embarrassment and he shushes her. "Hey, that's okay. That's perfectly okay."

She sniffles and squirms against him. "Nnn. But I'm not ... I-I don't know how. And you're a ... a ..."

He chuckles. "I'm a what?"

"... a man," she whispers, face flaming.

"Yeah, I am. But that's good, Honey. Dont'cha think? Every girl needs a man to teach her things, at some point. And it's that time for you."

She mewls helplessly in her throat and shakes her head, not noticing that her crotch is still grinding up on him as she does. "But what if I ... what if I can't ..."

"Don't worry," he tuts. He thumbs fondly at the damp corner of an eye until she peeks up at him. "I told you, Petal: I want to see you bloom." She colors beautifully at that and ducks her chin, and Lloyd dips down to kiss her again, not letting up until he feels her body soften to it a little bit more. She seems to realize what her hips are doing and freezes, but he just grabs her and guides her back into the rhythm, groaning when she starts up again. "There you go. Good girl."

"Lloyd ..."

"Don't be afraid. We'll take it slow, okay? I'll guide you, show you everything you need to know."

She sniffles and shivers, still teary-eyed, but she isn't pushing against him anymore. "Will it hurt?" she whispers.

Lloyd's cock gives a mighty throb and his eyes darken. "No, Blossom," he promises. "It won't hurt. Cause I'm gonna open you up real gentle and slow, show you how it can feel so, so good, okay?" He nudges her nose with his when she doesn't answer. "Tell me you understand, Little flower."

"Mmm." She's so shy, so reluctant and sweet. It makes Lloyd's cock ache worse than anything. "... Okay," she eventually whispers.

He hums knowingly and gives her one last peck on the lips before pulling back to undress. He goes slow enough not to spook her, but fast enough that he isn't drawing it out needlessly and scaring her any worse. He's prepared to hold her down if she starts struggling again, but that's not how he wants this to go. He really does want to watch her unfurl.

Her eyes widen and she stares at him with parted lips as he strips out of his clothes and his body is revealed. She seems stuck in place; a deer in headlights, fascinated and terrified—even more so, once he gets his cock out.

He angles it downward and gives himself a slow, tight tug, watching her watch him, soaking up the look of a girl who's having her first real sexual experience. She bites her lip and stares at his hand on his cock, eyes flitting between the weeping tip and his fist, his heavy sac and powerful thighs and back up again. Her brow is pinched and she keeps dragging her lip through her teeth, and Lloyd's balls ache at how tender it is to get to see her appreciating a man's body for the first time; losing this one, innocent part of herself. The very first petal to fall.

Still, he feigns ignorance with a coaxing, "You ever been naked with a man like this, Baby?" He knows that she hasn't, knows what a frightened and turned on virgin looks like. The poor thing is trembling in her skin, completely lost for what to do. Her mouth works like she'll answer verbally, but when she can't seem to make that happen, she just shakes her head a little instead.

"Mmn. Mm mn."

He nods in understanding. "Okay, Blossom. That's just fine." He lies over her again, abandoning his cock and touching the bottom hem of her little top. Fittingly, there are tiny, pale pink rosebuds printed on it. "Can I take this off?" he asks, tracing up to her ribcage and back down from over the cotton. "Hm?" He holds her gaze as he starts gently edging up the fabric. Her belly quakes and she whines nervously, but she lifts her arms for him when it's time, and he praises her with another quiet 'good girl'.

She's wearing a little bralette under the top, with lace edges and a delicate material that provides absolutely no structure. It doesn't even quite conceal the soft shade of her nipples peeking through. Lloyd groans lowly and skims his hands over them. "Fuck, Petal." She inhales noticeably at that, and he shoots her a grin. "Aw, you like that one, huh?" he teases. "My little flower Petal." he ghosts his fingers over her breasts, back and forth, until her nipples are fully pebbled and poking against the thin fabric. "So pretty," he murmurs.

She squirms, flustered, arms pressing in against her sides like she's fighting the urge to cover herself. "They're not ..." she starts, biting her lip and not finishing what she was going to say as her face flames.

"What?" Lloyd coaxes.

"Just ... they're not ... very big."

He doesn't bother to school the displeasure from his face, his eyes darkening as he growls in disapproval. It works in that her eyes pop up to him, wide and questioning. He shakes his head and lets his weight come down more, holding her down with his body and palming greedily at her little breasts. "No," he agrees roughly, rubbing and groping her. "They're not very big, are they?" He leers and pushes the little excuse for a bra up over them. "Sweet little mountain peaks," he teases. She squeaks and tries to cover herself, but Lloyd isn't having it. He knocks her hands away with a warning look. "Don't do that. I want to see you. All of you." He helps her slip the bralette over her head, tossing it aside and returning to take both of those chubby little swells in his palms, cupping and pressing them together as much as they'll go. "Jesus," he curses softly.

They're small and underdeveloped, more mound than slope, jutting out from her chest in youthful defiance. They're so innocent, so cheeky and plump. The sight of them makes that base, destructive desire surface in him again; the urge he sometimes gets to devour and claim and take, to ruin something that's so pretty and good. Lloyd wonders if that's what makes him a sociopath. "Such pretty tits," he praises, then lowers his face to seal his mouth over one, puffy nipple.

She squeaks, frightened at first, but she must be sensitive there because all it takes is one or two firm sucks and she's loosing the most gorgeous, helpless moans. Her hips kick up and Lloyd hums around his mouthful. He gives her more pressure through his thigh, pleased when she grinds up with real purpose.

"Yeah," he encourages. He pulls away and glances up from the level of her chest to find her staring at him with that same, pinched expression, but sloe-eyed instead of wide-eyed, now. Cupping the swollen tip of her breast and swiping out with his tongue, he watches as it makes her face absolutely crumple in desire.

"Ohn, god."

"See?" he says, nodding at the next uncoordinated roll of her hips. "It's all gonna be okay. Just gotta let me show you."

As turned on as she is, she still sniffles, her eyes flitting over him, afraid of what she doesn't know, unable to conceal her nervous interest. He can see her trying to look down and catch sight of his cock again, and he rumbles in approval and lets it drag against her hip. "You want to touch it?" he teases, then chuckles when she clamps her eyes shut and shakes her head with a stubborn little, uh uh. "Aw, that's okay, Sweetheart. You're shy. That's to be expected."

"M'not."

He laughs at her and gives her breast one last, affectionate kiss. "Don't lie, Buttercup. It's fine. Lots of girls are like that, you know. Nervous about touching, unsure, need to feel good before they can really let go enough and explore the way they want to. So how about ... I help you relax first?"

"Mmn." She whines and refuses to look at him. "... How?"

He sinks down her body, hands dragging over her waist and hips, holding her down with a chiding little tut when she squirms a little too much. "Shh. There's a girl." He forces her legs open and shoulders his way in there, and that's what seems to get her to still. He kisses her belly with a pleased hum, right at the top edge of the panties, where there's a tiny silk bow and green peapod detail. Lloyd groans at the sight of it and gives it a little kiss. "Have you ever had an orgasm, Sweetpea?"

"What?!" She huffs in embarrassment and tosses her head. "Noo. I, I don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he teases.

“That."

"No?" He smirks and looks down to where there's a telling wet patch on the gusset of her panties. "Hm. You mean you don't touch yourself?" As inexperienced as she is, he still finds it hard to believe that a girl could get to her age without exploring. He places a coaxing line of kisses down the inner crease of her thigh. "Not even a little bit? Maybe sometimes at night?” 

“I … I don’t …”

“Don’t what?" He blows gently against her. "Don’t ever wake up from a dream with that tight and achy feeling deep inside your tummy?”

“Ohh.”

“Don’t let your hands start to creep down here? Don’t rub a little to try and make it feel better?"

She whines again and squirms, though it's not a fight to get away so much as it is pure nerves and embarrassment. She even seems a little mad at him for teasing her so much. It makes him chuckle and push her thighs wider so he can really get his face down there. "Oh, no. Don't pretend you haven't touched this little flower. You've closed your eyes and let your hands wander." He takes one of her hands in his and brings it down, ignoring her grunt of protest and guiding her to cup herself. Instantly, her fingers go to her clit, and Lloyd snickers. "Yes, you’ve touched. But you haven’t made yourself cum?" 

“Please,” she begs. “It doesn't work. I just … I can’t.”

“Aw, you can’t?” He pouts along with her in mock sympathy. “Well what've you tried, babygirl? Maybe you're just not doin' it right."

"Nnngh." She bites her lip and stares down at their joined hands with flushed cheeks. "I don't ... I dunno, please."

He releases her hand and pushes it out of the way. "See, that's what you need a man like me for. Too desperate to figure out how to make that itch go away by yourself. Poor, confused little thing." She makes an angry sound in protest, but it's easily subdued by another firm grab and press of her hips down into the blankets. He snickers at her token outrage. "Shh. That's alright, Blossom, that's alright. Just one more first I get to give you. I’m looking forward to it." He gives the waistband of her panties another kiss. "Girls aren't like boys, you know. You don't just wake up one morning, pulling at your pud. It's more complicated than that. You have to learn what feels good, learn how to get yourself worked up." He looks up her body and offers her a tender smile. "That's why it's important to have a teacher, Sweetpea. Someone who knows these things, someone who can guide you."

She sniffles. "You can?"

"Sure I can. Here, let's try a few things, why don't we? See what sorts of touches you like." He wants to rip her panties off yesterday, but forces himself to remember the plan of taking things slow and savoring every moment. He's only going to get to do this once, after all. So he waits for her barely-there nod, and then grasps the top edge of the panties right over that obscene little fucking peapod, and gives a jostle, gently tug-tug-tugging the fabric up against her mound, pulling it just enough to get the seam angled over her clit. 

She gasps at the sensation, a surprised little "oh!" escaping her lips.

Lloyd hums. “S'that feel good, Sweetheart?"

"Nnnh."

"Hmm. Yeah. You like a little gentle pressure like that? Are you a glancing touch kind of gal?" A few more exploratory, barely-there tugs and he can tell that she is, even though she clearly has no concept of what that means. He drops the panties and lets his fingers trail along the crease of her thigh, relishing every twitch and shiver he gets from her.

Somebody has waxed her bare beneath the fabric, and Lloyd sneers in distaste and purposefully doesn’t let himself think about why that is. "Oh, yes," he says when he sees that the wet spot on her panties has grown. "You like to be teased." She keens in protest, though she's thankfully past the point of outright denying the obvious. Lloyd rewards her with a press of his face against her crotch, inhaling and letting his nose dig into her clit from over the fabric. “Mmhm. Slickin’ right through your panties.”

"Oh!" Her hands suddenly appear in his hair, scrabbling, clutching. “Oh, oh no …”

He laughs a hot breath right against her cunt. "That's okay, Princess. That's good. I like that you’re sensitive.” He gives her one last kiss from over the underwear and then curls his fingers into the waistband. “Wanna take these off?"

"Nnoo," she moans, while doing absolutely nothing to stop him as he pulls them off her.

He eases them down her legs, gently shushing and praising her for her obedience when she lets him settle his shoulders back in between her legs after tossing the panties aside.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, hooking one hand under her thigh to push and make room, the other sliding over her soft belly. He tugs her closer to his face, inhaling her scent and groaning at finally getting to see her.

One good thing about a bare pussy: there’s no hiding the state of it.

"Blossom," he breathes. "Look at you. You're soaked." 

She is. The delicate petals of her sex are already spread and slicked, puffy and swollen with arousal. He groans and lets his tongue dart out for a quick taste, reveling in the sweet tang of her, the way that she gasps and her belly tenses underneath his hand. She’s trembling, squirming, trying so hard not to hump up against his face, not to make noise even though it’s obviously what she wants to do. “It’s okay,” he tells her, dipping down for another long lick through her folds, nudging her clit with his nose, his mustache.

“Ohn!” she cries, but the sound cuts off into a desperate yelp at the end as she tries to silence herself. "Nnnh!" 

He makes an admonishing grunt where he’s got his face buried against her. “Hey,” he snaps, when he glances up and sees her fingers in her mouth. He knocks her hand away. “Quit it.”

“I’m not! I’m—” 

He hauls her in harshly and sucks her clit into his mouth until it elicits the squeal he was looking for, a tortured little ‘ognfuck!’ that comes from deep in her belly. He pops off with a satisfied growl. “There. Like that. That’s better.” He softens his tone when she whimpers and kisses the hood of her clit. “It’s okay to enjoy it, Petal. I know it feels good. So stop trying to hold it in, okay? You gotta let me hear you.”

“Please,” she whispers, eyes shining down at him. Fuck, the tears are back. “Please, please,”

“Please what, Princess?”

“Nnn! I – I need …”

Aaand her voice is back to warbling and overwhelmed, prompting Lloyd to grind his dick against the mattress just for a little fucking relief. This girl is sweet in every fucking way imaginable, and now she’s trembling and welling up with tears again, just the way he loves to see. Only this time it’s not in fear. She’s finally losing control of herself enough to let go and open up—unfurling for him, just like the flower he knew she was.

“Tell me, Petal,” he murmurs, tickling her with his mustache again. “C’mon. Tell me. Tell me what you need to cum. Do you even know?”

“Please, nngh, please …” 

He nuzzles her clit and laps languorously at her drenched slit, over and over, proactively tightening his hold on her hips so that he doesn’t get his nose broken when she inevitably starts bucking. “Ohn … god!”

“Mmm hmph,” he hums, having ventured out to start giving her jabs with his tongue, forcing the muscle into her quivering little gash, over and over, teaching her what a good tongue fucking really feels like. “Mmm, mmmph.” 

“Oh, please, ohn!” Her hands clamor through his hair, messing it up as she sobs and jerks, trying to get more of his tongue in her cunt. Lloyd can’t help laughing a little bit over it, breathless and turned on by how easy she is. He goes back to suckling on her clit for a moment or two, before easing off and peering up her heaving belly with a smug grin. “So sensitive,” he coos, holding her down when she thrashes in embarrassment. “Stop, stop,” he chides, laughing, climbing back up her body and pinning her beneath his full weight. 

Her legs spread for him without conscious thought, welcoming him in even as she’s still making her angry little huffs and puffs for being teased. He kisses her, amused, forcing his tongue inside to give her a taste of her own arousal. “And that was just my mouth,” he purrs, bringing a hand up to grope at one of those fat little breasts. “Was barely even inside you. Just think about what it’ll feel like with my fingers, my cock. You want that?” 

She cries out when he plucks her nipple. She shakes her head. “Nnn.”

“What? 'Nnn'? S’that s’posed to be a no?”

“Nnnh. Yes.”

He laughs. “Aw, Cupcake. I already told you I’m gonna treat you real nice, make you feel good. Now why you gotta lie to me?” He lets his hand slip down between them, cupping her between her legs. “Does this feel like a no? Hmm?” She whimpers and he smiles and shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t, does it? Mm mn.”

She’s mewling and grinding up against the pressure of his hand despite her stupid little protests, so he hums and slips a finger down through her folds, lets the tip of it tease at her entrance. Fuck, she’s wet. “Never had anything in here?” he asks, already knowing the answer before she gives another pathetic whimper and shakes her head.

“Just … just tampons.”

“Tampons, huh?” He dips the tip of his finger, in and out, gut clenching as he feels it mouthing at him, feels all that slick. “When’s the last time you bled?” he asks. He’ll grab a condom if he needs to, but he’d rather not need to. “Hm? Come on now, don’t lie to me.”

She won’t meet his eyes, but after enough coaxing she admits that she had her period just a day ago. Lloyd nods, glad that he doesn’t have to worry about protection. Not that it isn’t fun to fantasize about knocking such a sweet little thing up, but that’s not the itch he’s scratching right now. It'll be a treat just getting to watch her bloat with his seed, before that creampie slides right back out. “Okay, then, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, finger still teasing softly right at the edge of her entrance. “I want you to look at me, girl. Want you to look right in my eyes, and relax for it.” He brushes his lips across hers. “I promise this isn’t gonna hurt.”

He eases his finger in, and the tiny little ‘oh’ and relieved sigh she gives up as he does it, is everything. Her wide eyes meet his, blinking. “Lloyd.”

“Yeah.”

“I … I …” 

“Relax, Blossom.” Lloyd’s got big fingers, and she’s clamped down tight as fuck from her nerves, but she’s so fucking wet that it doesn’t even matter, his finger slipping in past the knuckle until it’s all the way seated. Her searing heat envelops him and presses onto his palm, bringing that destructive, sexual urge bubbling right back up to the surface of his mind. 

She’s the purest thing he’s ever touched, this soft, tearful, quivering creature in his hands. He’s never felt such lust and violence at the same time. He desperately needs to ruin her … and yet somehow, also desperately, he needs to make sure he doesn’t hurt her. 

A single, overwhelmed tear breaks from her eye and tracks down her temple, disappearing into her hair. Lloyd’s mouth all but waters at the sight of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice it, too preoccupied with the feeling of him inside of her body. She’s teetering right on the precipice between terrified and fascinated as she learns this new touch, and Lloyd could bust a nut just watching it.

“Good girl,” he praises, letting his palm cup her sex as he keeps his finger buried and starts to give her gentle, gentle pulses. “See? Didn’t I tell you?”

To his utter delight, she exhales shakily and nods. “Yeah,” she whispers, biting her lip and looking down her own body to where he’s touching her. “Yeah. I … it's ... you’re …" Her eyes slam shut as his finger curls. "Oh god.”

“You’re okay. Look at me.” He rocks his hand more, giving her pressure through the heel of his hand and dragging over that soft spot inside. "Look at me, Petal."

It takes her a moment, but she manages, peeking up at him with her brow pinched and moaning softly, her hips juddering up into it. 

Lloyd smiles, lines up another finger, and soaks up her expression as he plucks off that next petal.

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[healer-pop]

DUDE IMAGINE CERVIX KISSING VENTURE WITH THE STRAP???

god I cannot even tell u how much they would be all over that. bc listen, this act is so sensual and intimate and that’s something Venture is all about. It’s the feeling of fullness, of pressure against the inner most part of you, while you’re basically pressed against your partner and the endorphins it releases is just… wow. unmatchable.

Virgin Venture would go absolutely speechless at the feeling. They would be completely at your mercy, their brain just wouldn’t be able to comprehend the sensation. Honestly, if they’re still being bratty and talking big, it’s the only way to shut them up. A KO. They’d stare up at you with wide eyes, mouth falling open, just completely helpless at the pleasure being rocked through their body right now. Their hands on your shoulders leaving beautiful crescent moons via blunt nails, their own form of tattooing themself upon you. As you fix your gaze on them, breathing whispers of praise on their cheeks, the tears take their place, starting to fall. Wet streams that leave their skin glistening without the two of you realizing, “U-uhng- m-more. More, please, fuck, m-more?”

It’s almost completely guttural sounds, a few words you can pick out mixed into the noise being a couple of strung together letters that Venture can actually remember right now. Anything else that spills from their lips is just gasping babble, punched straight from their lungs.

A Venture with a bit more experience is still in cloud nine, but has more control over their brain function. Their face is blissed out, seeing more colors than humanly possible, staring straight into the ceiling because anything else would be too overwhelming.

Their voice still hitches in places as they talk, “A-aah… yes, yes, cariño. So fucking good. You’re- you’re so deep in me… So deep. I feel so filled up by you. Mm… I- I want you to move. Hard, ok? Wanna… wanna feel you tomorrow too.”

Loose arms, tossed over your neck like a shawl. You lean down to kiss their neck, savoring the moan it pulls as you lick off salty sweat from their heated skin. Their legs pull you in as tight as they can, every time you give a vicious thrust to their cunt. You live for the way Venture shuts their eyes, the broken moans that they hand out shattered by your pace.

They’re completely relaxed in your arms despite the bruising fuck you’re currently delivering to them right now. Open to your desires, putty in your hands. You could line hickies up on their neck. Fuck, play tic tac toe with it, they couldn’t care less. All they can think about is the way your cock hits their cervix every time you push in.

You might literally drive them wild. Expect their clinginess to drive up 500% because getting fucked like that? Yeah, no. Their body suddenly craves everything about you. Your scent, your warmth, your presence. It’s like an undeniable itch that they need to scratch, can’t get through the day with out having some sort of physical contact with you. Like all their hormones are secreting some sort of need. Maybe due to their fucked out state that you created, the way they just completely imprinted on you as theirs… Like, they are hanging off of you the next day.

Many others try and attempt to talk to Venture, but don’t get very far since they’re still not completely able to formulate full thoughts. They chalk it up to poor sleep and let Venture be, but it makes you smile to know the full story.

They snuggle into your neck as you try to get paperwork done, try and pull you into sharing their jacket. They’ve always been affectionate but this feels… different. Almost as if they are gently floating down from sub space, using the physical touch to ease the transition. You allow it, of course, but it’s definitely a plus to have a snugglebug on your arms the next day.

Yeah. Venture definitely likes when you cervix kissing them, but would probably ask that you save it for when they DON’T need to be a single person. Or, you know, have a brain the next day.

#𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ messages from the red string of fate #aNON I SAW U #U ARE VALID N ILY #also say thanks to feral for being my amazing editor they made this legible

[videcoeur]

Yes I could watch the whole straight episode instead of posting a comment every 5 seconds but consider this: I might die if I don't talk about it

#( one piece liveposting. ) #this is how it 's gonna be and I would like to apologize but also let you guys know I do not feel bad about it #first episode was everything I hoped for and while the rest may disappoint (who am I kidding I'm biased as fuck) #there is no way I can physically shut up about it. #and you guys can mute me and block my posts #the man sitting by my side has to endure piglet squealing and weird noises every 2 seconds

[crybaby-bkg]

Dabi is surprisingly a lightweight. You honestly would’ve never figured by looking at him, but as you think back on it, you’ve never really seen him drink a lot. Not when there were celebratory parties, or when things didn’t go right for him. It’s why you’re so shocked when you convince two shots into his system, why he suddenly looks so loose, why his grin splits so wide.

He’s a clinger, you’ve also learned as you’ve started observing the blue eyed man where he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. His body bends over almost uncomfortably to fit into the position, and you can’t help but flinch a little when his damp breath blows a quiet little raspberry on your flesh.

omg wait my favorite thought is of you not even necessarily being a heavyweight, you can just handle your liquor a little better than anyone expects. you love to knock back drink after drink, convince Dabi into some stupid competition that he falls for because he’s such a little nerd and secretly wants to impress you. he does it thinking you’ll be the drunk one first, the one hanging off of his arm and hopefully his dick by the end of the night.

it belatedly shocks him when it’s the exact opposite. when he’s slurring a little and smiling at you, when you watch him through low eyes with a wide grin, when he wraps himself around you like a python, when you shake his face gently as you squish his cheeks together in hand. he’s just so utterly obsessed with you in these moments, and maybe it’s the liquor in him, but he knows his lowered inhibitions are only bringing forth the feelings he’s always suppressed.

drunk sex with Dabi where he’s the one too loose limbed and limp and weak. he flops onto bed like some rag doll with his arms and legs spread wide, but he musters up enough strength to release the heavy weight of his cock from its confinements. doesn’t do much besides lift his head from the pillows with a point to his crotch and a lazy grin, an announcement of, go ahead and hop on already before he’s flopping back down again, ready to lay back and get fucked like how he knows he deserves.

#at first I wrote about him getting whisky dick and not even realizing it and being so embarrassed about it the next morning #but it made me laugh too hard and I was like #no one will enjoy that dude shut up AJSHDKDJDJD #but omg lightweight baby that can only cling to you and whine to go back to your room to fuck #only to pass out immediately on the bed lmfao #I love him I’m gonna str*ngle him so bad #anyway I finished all my work for the week and now I feel empty so I will be moving onto next weeks work tomorrow LOL NERD #but everything next week is simple too so why not get it out the way ya know???? #after that I might sit down and actually write another fic since it’s been a little minute #everyone voted for therapist obsessed bkg next but I kinda wanna write something emotional for touya now lmfao #I’m becoming so obsessed with him and it HURTS!!!!! #I can only handle one ☝🏻 at a time or else I start getting the shakes #also omg my regular dr is making me go to the heart dr bc she said my anxiety worries her for my physical condition aksjdj embarrassing #okay bye I’m gonna read a little and sleep #—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #dabi treats! 🍬 #tw: alchohol mention