#you can see the pain in both of their eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmeurtmi · 3 days

Text

breathe — 2min

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho

tags: established relationship, polyamory, bdsm, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, throuple, mxm, degradation, pet play, breath play, collars and leashes, anal!!, butt plugs, oral (m receiving), nipple play (f), choking, seungmin and his canonically established pain kink, thigh humping, unprotected sex, sub/dom dynamics, sub!reader, mean dom!seung, soft dom!minho, implied subspace, use of “slut”, “bunny”, “bubs”, “pet”, “dumb”, slight humiliation kink, choking on cum, use of a non-verbal stop light system, reader goes yellow but it’s all good, absolutely sappy in the end, smut with so many feelings, lmk if i missed something!

inspo: 2min in the new teaser pics

notes: again, i got carried away. it appears the dirtier i try to make something the sappier it turns out. i think i started this two days ago and my mood drastically changed from horny as fuck to in love as fuck. please let me know how this turned out 🥹

{ wc: 5610 }

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Minho asks, softly, as he turns the collar around in his hands.

It’s pink, a little bell hanging off the metal heart in the middle, three different slots available to tighten for size.

Seungmin bought it last week, after five whole days of discussions.

You asked your boyfriends for a collar, and Seungmin instantly agreed. Although it took a little more time to persuade Minho. He wanted it, you could tell by the crimson shade of his ears as soon as you initially brought the idea up—but Minho was the kind of boyfriend that never wanted to hurt you. Even though he knew you enjoyed it, he always wanted to protect you. Seungmin understood both of you equally, which was what helped the three of you work as flawlessly as you did. Seungmin shared Minho’s concerns, heard them and nodded his head silently, while also teasing you for how excited the idea made you.

In the end, Seungmin showed you three collars and when your eyes lingered a few seconds longer on the pink one he added it to his cart that night.

Yesterday the package arrived.

“Minho, I’m sure,” you promise him, “it’s gonna be so fucking hot.”

Minho smirked at you, shy and excited, his eyes locked on yours.

“You know Kim Seungmin loves you on your knees,” he says lowly, “I do, too.”

“You do?” You smile.

“Mhm hmm,” Minho nods sharply, “look so pretty with your beautiful eyes looking up at us.”

“Min, please,” you say, so soon, “put it on me?”

“Go get dressed,” Minho orders, “Seungminnie is gonna get here in ten minutes and then we can do everything you asked for.”

You smile big, excitedly clapping your hands together. Minho chuckles at you, eyes sparkling before he plants a small kiss on your lips.

“Go on,” he says, enamoured, before sitting back on the bed—collar still clutched tightly in his hand.

You quickly go to the bathroom, where your outfit is waiting on the counter. You get dressed, your new matching pink lace set fitting your body perfectly. The thong is a little tight, but you don’t think it’s gonna stay on for too long—so you don’t mind it much.

You take a look in the mirror, silently thanking Seungmin for his taste in lingerie; it makes you feel so incredibly sexy. You can’t wait to feel their eyes on you as they see the way the pink fabric compliments your curves.

With excitement, butterflies dancing all around your insides, you take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom.

Minho’s spread on the bed, hand tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. You can tell he’s looking forward to tonight, his sweats doing a poor job at concealing his already present bulge.

When he hears the bathroom door close shut, he looks up. His mouth falls open, front teeth peeking out as he looks you up and down three times. Then, “holy shit.”

“You like it?”

Minho swallows, eyes growing wide as he nods repeatedly.

“God, bunny,” he says, slightly breathless, “look at you.”

“I think I like it better when you look at me,” you chuckle.

“I’m looking,” he says, licking his lips, “god. Fuck.”

He sits up, his phone long forgotten and with a small flick of his fingers calls you over. You waste no time at all, quickly climbing on the bed to sit by his side.

“So pretty like this,” he runs his hands over your hair, softly brushing it with his fingers. “Pretty bunny.”

His hand leaves your hair after a few moments, running down your bare back before he softly cups your ass.

“So soft,” he hums, tucking his finger under the fabric of your g-string. He runs his finger up and down, tugging it tighter around you.

With his other hand, Minho runs his fingers over your stomach, higher and higher until he cups your tits in his hand. He’s gentle, rubbing his thumb over the soft lace and when your breath hitches he starts circling your nipple through your pink bra.

“Wanna touch you all over,” he mumbles, “but I don’t think it’ll be right to take these off yet. Look how perfect your tits are in this.”

You blush at his words but Minho is too distracted by your chest to comment on it. He pushes the cup down, only enough for your nipple to peak out, and then he rubs his thumb over it in quick motions.

You moan softly, mouth gaped and body already reeling from the touch. Something about Minho not even undressing you before he starts playing with your body ignites a fire in your stomach.

He leans forward, looking up at you as his lips wrap around your nipple, sparkling eyes locking on yours as he flicks his tongue repeatedly around your sensitive bud.

“Min, that feels really nice,” you sigh, carding your fingers through his soft hair. He smiles up at you, tongue flicking through his open lips before he closes his eyes—eagerly sucking around your nipple.

With a soft pop he moves away, rubbing his hand against your waist before giving the same attention to your other breast, eager to keep hearing your soft moans.

His hands join together behind your back, rubbing up and down freely before he cups your ass. He hums, content, the vibrations against your skin sending butterflies into your core.

He pulls away again, satisfied for the time being, looking up at you.

“I had an idea,” he says, lowly, “there was something else in the box I didn’t show you.”

“What was it?”

Minho reaches underneath the pillow, pulling out a long and white fluffy tail. You feel your face burning up.

“Why didn’t Seungmin say anything?” You ask, excitement buzzing through you at the idea of wearing a tail with the collar.

“This one was my idea,” Minho admits, a shy smile on his face.

“You can put it on me,” you say with a grin.

Then, Minho turns it around, showing you the small butt plug attached to the end of the tail.

You let out a small gasp, your lips forming a perfect circle at the realisation Minho actually bought you a toy like this. Your cheeks are so warm.

“I didn’t expect this from you,” you admit, taking the tail into your hands and inspecting it closer. The plug itself isn’t too big, but since the three of you don’t experiment with anal that often you know you’d feel a stretch either way. You feel your walls clench for a moment at the thought of wearing it.

“I didn’t expect it either,” Minho admits, cupping your ass and rubbing circles on it with his palms. “When Seungminnie showed me the website it popped up and I added it. I don’t know, bunny, the thought of you on your knees with a little tail between your legs made me so hard.”

“I want you to put it in, Minho,” you say, and your voice sounds foreign in your ears, “please.”

Minho nods.

He slips one of his hands beneath the pink fabric of your thong, his other hand gripping your ass hard. He brings his middle finger to your hole, circling it softly.

You grip his shoulders, breathing laboured as you lock your eyes on his.

“I need to get the lube,” Minho says, pressing the pad of his finger flat against your hole. You know he can slip it right in if he wanted to—but you can’t deny he’s right. His fingers are too dry and the slide won’t be easy at all, so Minho prefers to simply tease the entrance with his finger. It makes you moan either way, the novelty of it all and the sensitive nerves sending pleasure through your body with something as simple as this.

“I’ll go get it?” You offer through a small sigh.

“Delivery is on its way,” Minho says, leaning forward towards your chest and kissing around it.

You’re not sure what he means but you ignore it when he slowly starts pushing the tip of his finger in and out of your hole—in and out, in and out. You don’t think he inserts more than a centimetre inside you, but it still feels so so snug. So weird. So fucking good.

You hear the front door open and close before Seungmin’s voice follows with a small, “I’m home!” and the butterflies in your stomach start soaring.

Minho chuckles lightly, feeling the way your body reacts to Seungmin’s voice. “Excited to see our puppy?”

You nod happily, a broken gasp leaving your lips when Minho slips his finger in deeper. “He’ll be so happy to see you like this.”

The door to the bedroom practically flies open, and Seungmin doesn’t even say hello. He leans over you, a bottle of lube in his hands, and without any prior warning—he spills it directly on your ass.

It’s cold so you hiss loudly, but Seungmin only shushes you in return.

More and more of it trickles down your body, all over Minho’s finger and down to your cunt. All you can do is moan as Minho easily slips his finger all the way in, knuckle deep.

“There you go,” Minho coos, “take it, baby.”

“Feels so nice, Min,” you let your head fall forward, focusing on the pleasure the stretch provides you.

“Let me look at her, hyung,” Seungmin says, his voice covered in an edge you can’t quite place.

You let your eyes flutter open, moans tumbling freely out of your mouth as you look at Seungmin. He was at an important meeting, you aren’t too sure for what, but he was still wearing his smart clothes. They were so different from his every day sweats, and although you loved him in anything he wore, there was something particularly beautiful about Seungmin wearing tight fitting dress pants and a fashionable cardigan.

You wanted him to rip his clothes off.

“I knew you’d like the tail hyung got us,” Seungmin smirks, his eyes drinking in your outfit before settling on your lips, “knew you wanted it in every hole.”

“Seung,” you let out, ears growing warm at his accusation.

“I’m wrong?” You don’t answer, “our dirty little pet doesn’t like how hyung is fucking her ass right now?”

You moan as Minho makes a point of adding a second finger at that exact moment.

“Stretching you so well,” Seungmin mumbles, looking behind your back at Minho’s actions, “your holes were made for this.”

You reach out for Seungmin’s hand, pulling him closer to you, and he laces your fingers together as he sits down beside you.

“You bought the cutest set, Seungminnie,” Minho says, as he watches Seungmin’s fingers run over the lace.

“You chose the cutest tail,” he returns.

“I-I’m ready,” you sigh, “I want it in me.”

“She’s said that so many times already,” Minho reports, “she really wants it.”

“You want your collar, too?” Seungmin asks, sweetly.

“Yes, please,” you try your hardest not to sound too desperate, but the way they both laugh at you makes you think you failed.

Seungmin plants a soft kiss on your cheek before he looks around for the collar, and when he finds it somewhere on the bed he shakes it around. The little bell rattles around with a small repetitive dingdingding. Seungmin smirks.

“Oh, this is gonna be so fucking hot,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up.

Minho slips his fingers out slowly, kissing your shoulder as he tells you he thinks you’re ready now. You nod. You have no idea if he stretched you wide enough, but you don’t care. You just want them to start already.

You watch as Minho grabs the tail from the fluffy side, dowsing the plug side with lube before he looks up at you. The cautious look is back in his eyes, and he hesitates, but once he sees your blown pupils and quick breaths he leans forward.

He circles the plug around your hole a few times, letting you get used to the coolness of the lube (unlike Seungmin) before slowly pushing it inside you. He pulls it out, then back in—in out, in out, before it slips all the way inside you with a loud moan.

“Oh, my god,” you sigh, “feels so tight.”

Seungmin runs a hand up and down your thighs. Minho starts playing with the fluffy ends of the tail. You can hear him giggling.

“It’s okay, bunny?” Minho asks when you fall silent.

You nod, clenching your fists tightly to stop yourself from touching your clit and derailing the whole evening. Your senses are on fire, the tightness of the plug causing your walls to flutter repeatedly. You try to focus on your boyfriends, who are looking at you curiously.

“I have so many things I wanna do to you, bubs,” Seungmin says, “you’re good to let me ruin you?”

“Please, Seungmin,” you groan, “ruin me as much as you want.”

He chuckles. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah?”

He opens up the collar, watching you slowly as he secures it in place. He locks it on the first loop, the loosest option, and kisses you softly.

Minho runs his hands through your hair, delicately pulling it up into a ponytail as he pushes it away from your face. You aren’t sure when he got the hair tie, but he’s delicate with it, even pulling out a few strands from the side like how you always do.

“Thank you,” you say, surprised.

“So it doesn’t get in the way,” he explains. Your heart skips a beat, understanding they must’ve discussed what they wanted to do tonight beforehand, leaving it as a surprise for you.

Seungmin leans over your shoulder, kissing Minho’s lips messily, before the older pushes him off.

“Youngest first,” Minho says, pointing at the box at the edge of the room where the rest of the toys came from.

Seungmin gets up from the bed, grabbing a matching pink leash out of the box.

He secures the leash onto the collar, giving the handle to Minho before he steps back.

He opens the button on his pants.

You watch as he lets them fall onto the floor, pooling around his feet, along with his boxers.

His cock stands against his stomach at full hardness already, and you swallow tightly.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho grumbles impatiently, “shirt off. We wanna see all of you.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes but acquiesces, chucking his shirt to the side.

“He’s so pretty,” you voice out loud.

“I know,” Minho agrees, reaching his fingers towards Seungmin's stomach. He runs them up and down the soft skin, and you watch fascinated as small goosebumps rise on the skin of his thighs.

“Minho,” you let out breathless, “I wanna bite him.”

Minho laughs, almost evilly. “I think you should.”

“Yeah?” You blink at Minho.

He nods. “You know how much our boy likes that kinda thing. Do what you want, bunny. I’ll pull you back if I want to, right?”

Your eyes move towards Minho’s hand, thick veins accenting his knuckles as the bright pink leash sits securely in his hands. You clench your thighs together.

Minho grabs one of the pillows and drops it to the floor, right at Seungmin’s feet.

“Down, pet,” Seungmin commands. You have to hold back a moan.

You slowly move onto the floor, knees comfortably sitting on top of the pillow Minho provided. Each small movement nudges the plug inside you—you feel so dizzy with want, with excitement, you aren’t sure you’re even in your own body.

But knowing Minho is holding onto you, connected to him by pink leather, puts you at ease. Minho would never let anything happen to you, and Seungmin would kiss you better if it ever did.

You get into position, holding onto Seungmin’s soft thighs.

“Open,” Seungmin orders, running his thumb across your chin. You open your mouth, instinctively sticking your tongue all the way out as you get comfortable on your knees.

Seungmin laughs at you, shaking his head softly.

“You were waiting to do that, huh?” He says, lowly.

You nod your head, and the bell around your neck starts clicking.

“Such a pathetic girl,” Seungmin whispers, “letting hyung stick a fucking tail in your ass? And you liked it?”

“I liked it so much, Seung,” you whine, “it feels so nice.”

“You didn’t even thank hyung,” Seungmin points out.

You feel a small tug at your collar, so you turn around towards Minho. He’s lying back, hand tucked beneath his head again, his black t-shirt showing off his arms beautifully.

“Thank you, Minho,” you say.

“For what?” Seungmin pushes.

“Thank you for fucking my ass with the tail,” you choke out, heat running up and down your entire body.

Minho doesn’t say anything, but you see his knuckles tighten around the leash.

Your chin is tugged harshly as Seungmin turns your head back towards him, smiling wickedly at you.

“Good pet,” he says, “now I’m gonna fuck a different hole of yours. And you’re not going to stop until hyung pulls you off, yeah?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “please.”

You feel Minho’s hand rub up and down your shoulder, as he plants a small kiss on your temple.

He grabs your hand, holding one of your fingers up.

“One finger means green,” he explains, kissing your knuckle. Then he holds up your second finger, “two means yellow,” then he unravels your whole hand so all your fingers are pointing upwards. He kisses your open palm before saying, “five fingers means red. Can you do that for us, bunny?”

“I can’t speak?” You ask after Minho gives you a small kiss.

“You’re allowed to,” Minho says, “but he’s gonna fuck your throat so you probably won’t be able to.”

You clench around the air, shifting on top of your knees.

You nod, fingers tingling at the idea before you look up at Seungmin.

His cock is bright red already, the head glistening slightly. You want to taste him.

You squeeze his thighs, making a point of using your nails, and he lets out a soft groan.

“Our pet has sharp claws, huh?” Minho chuckles.

You lean forward, planting a few kisses around his hip bone before you scrap your teeth against the skin.

Seungmin lets out a high pitch sigh.

“She bites, too,” Minho hums.

“Want more,” Seungmin groans as you bite him again, sucking on the skin before you lick over the small indents from your teeth.

Minho sinks his fingers into your roots, scraping against the nape of your neck with his blunt nails. You barely notice it when he guides your head further down Seungmin’s body.

Minho pushes your face against Seungmin’s pelvis, your nose brushing against the thick stubble. You kiss anywhere your lips can reach—but you can’t ignore the heat coming from his cock any longer.

Slowly, you lick the tip once and then twice and then Seungmin hisses, “take it all, pet. Come on.”

You do as you’re told, letting your jaw drop slack as you slip as much of it inside your mouth as you can.

The height isn’t exactly perfect for your current task, so you try to make up for it, lifting up on your knees to make up for Seungmin’s long legs.

Minho notices, and when he does, he tugs on the leash just enough so that you start struggling against his grip. He’s trying to push you back down to the floor.

The lower you are, the harder it is to fit all of Seungmin’s length inside your mouth but the more you try to lift up—the harder Minho tugs on your leash.

Your thighs are starting to shake.

As a distraction you focus on fluttering your tongue against Seungmin, sucking harder around his warm cock as the salty taste takes over your thoughts.

You want him closer, you want more, and when you drag your body towards him your pussy rubs just right against the pillow you’re sitting on.

You moan around him, and Seungmin throws his head back from the vibrations. Minho tugs on your leash in warning.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says.

Obviously, you do it again.

“Up,” he orders, “on your knees, up.”

You lift yourself up, struggling to sit up on your knees, but thankfully it’s much easier to control what you’re doing that way.

When you start finding your pace, head bobbing up and down freely, Minho tugs on the leash so quickly you lose your breath for a moment or two.

Once the collar isn’t digging into your throat as much you try to breathe in, but Seungmin holds your head in place.

“Such a warm hole for me,” he mumbles, “you don’t need to breathe, right?”

You look up at him, blinking away tears as you breathe in quickly through your nose.

He tugs at your ponytail until his dick falls out of your mouth. You gasp in as much air as you can.

“What do you like more, slut, breathing or my cock?”

“Your cock,” you say, embarrassingly fast, “it’s better than anything else.”

“God, you’ve gone entirely dumb,” Seungmin mocks, eyes narrowed at you.

You nod, the bell rings along with your movements. “Keep going, Seungmin. You said you’d ruin me, please fucking ruin me.”

“Hyung,” he whines, “I’m gonna cum all over her fucking face like this.”

At that Minho grabs you from behind, small hands covering your head as he guides you back onto Seungmin’s cock. You quickly swallow him in, getting used to the weight of him in your mouth again.

You grab onto his thighs for support, making sure to dig your nails into the skin again. As you let go of any control you have, you allow Minho to push your head up and down, up and down, while Seungmin gets louder and louder.

You bring your hands onto his stomach, scratching five long lines on each side from his hips to his thighs.

Seungmin keens.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he starts chanting, “do it-do that, do that again.”

Minho runs his hand down Seungmin’s back, scratching harshly as Seungmin lets out his loudest moan yet.

“Make her choke on my cum, make her choke on it, fuck fuck fuck—“

Minho shoves your head down until your nose is flush against Seungmin’s pelvis. You look for air anywhere you can but there isn’t much. The tip is so deep inside your throat you’re sure it can be seen clearly through your neck, but neither of them can see anything when you’re pressed flush against Seungmin.

A moment or two of nothing but Seungmin’s moans and you gagging, and then the salty taste gets stronger and his cum fills your throat in a sudden gush and Minho pulls you off in a matter of seconds.

You don’t even open your eyes, too overwhelmed by the speed of it all, focusing all your efforts on making up for the lack in your lungs without actually choking on your boyfriend’s cum.

Once you recover enough you remember to swallow what’s left in your mouth, the rest spilled all over you and the pillow and your brand new pink lace.

You feel a hand on your chin, cleaning you up, and when you open your eyes Minho’s looking you up and down seriously.

“How are we doing?”

“Green,” you practically moan, “keep going, I’m not done.”

“Calm down,” Seungmin chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you sucked my soul out.”

You grin at that, pride filling your chest at the state he’s in.

His chest is covered in a sheer layer of sweat, bangs sticking to his forehead even though he styled them away from his face today—and his cheeks are bright pink. There’s scratches all down his thighs; you imagine his back doesn’t look any better. He can barely keep his eyes open, still breathing in and out with effort.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, Seung,” you groan, “please, I can go again.”

“I can’t,” he falls on his back, covering his face with his arm as his chest raises up and down rapidly. “Leave me alone.”

You look up at Minho, eyebrows lifting in a silent plea.

“Go on,” he says, one corner of his lips lifting up into a smile, “hump his thighs.”

Seungmin groans, as if protesting, but he spreads himself on the bed until he looks comfortable. Then, he lifts his arm away from his eyes.

He licks his lips and you notice his breathing has settled down slightly. He doesn��t move, barely reacts as you climb onto his thigh and drag your cunt over the soft skin.

You groan as the damp fabric rubs against your folds.

There’s a constant ding ding ding from the bell, the sound spurring you on to go faster and faster.

“You did so well,” Minho praises, “and you’re so eager to do more. You have to cum for us first as a reward for all your hard work.”

You nod, “yeah, thank you. Thank you, Minho.”

“Like when you train a puppy to do tricks,” Seungmin explains, “we’re gonna let you cum as your treat.”

You whine at his words, dragging your hips back and forth at an aching pace.

“Show off your tail, baby,” Minho mumbles, “looks so fucking hot when it bounces around like that.”

You can’t imagine there’s any kind of grace in your movements, far too concerned with chasing the pleasure to think of how it looks—but Minho’s eyes are frozen on your ass, completely enchanted by the fluffy white tail.

It’s only when he slaps your ass, the surprise causing you to fall forward on Seungmin’s chest, that you feel yourself on the edge of cumming. The drag of your cunt against Seungmin’s thigh and the newfound angle nudging the plug inside you just right causes your moans to get more intense, louder, more desperate.

Seungmin grabs your tits with both hands, “bubs, cum.”

He says it like a command, like all the other commands he gave you so far tonight, and your body has already learned to react to anything he says.

You instantly start shaking in his hold, tingles running all the way from your toes to the tips of your fingers as your orgasm crashes through you. You clench tightly, the plug making it all the more sweeter as you ride it out for as long as you can.

You collapse on top of Seungmin, a content hum echoing against your chest when he pulls you into a hug.

You watch as Minho lays down next to Seungmin, brushing any stray hairs that fell out of your ponytail from all your efforts. You aren’t sure when he stripped down but he’s completely naked now, and you let yourself indulge in the beautiful sight of his bare body. From his sculptured chest to his thick thighs to his gorgeous cock sitting angry and needy against his stomach.

Seungmin kisses the top of your head, then lazily kisses Minho’s cheek.

“How are you, baby?” He asks.

“So hard I could cry,” Minho chuckles.

Seungmin’s hand wraps around the base of Minho’s cock, squeezing tightly.

Minho groans loudly, the sound so different from how composed he’s been so far. You can see his desperation when he shuts his eyes tightly, mouth hanging open.

“Bunny,” he groans, “how are you?”

All you can do is lift up two fingers.

“Need more rest?” You nod.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Seungmin says, giving Minho’s cock one full stroke, “I’ll take care of it while our baby rests.”

Seungmin holds you in one arm and uses the other to keep pumping Minho’s cock. Minho moans freely, letting himself enjoy the attention finally being on him.

You know he prefers giving when it’s the three of you, and especially when you decide to try one of your own kinks, but he still loves when the attention is on him—and who wouldn’t love one of Seungmin’s big hands all over them?

No more than thirty seconds pass before you decide you’ve rested enough.

“Let me sit on it,” you mumble out, “want his cock in me.”

“She still sounds so desperate,” Seungmin hums, “we can all barely move but she’s still hungry for cock.”

Minho smiles lazily, grabbing at the leash and pulling you towards him.

You aren’t very graceful when you climb over to his side but you have to do it quickly, the collar already pressing down on your windpipe.

Minho helps you settle on his thighs. You notice just how much bigger they are than Seungmin’s when the stretch in your thigh deepens from the prolonged positioned you’re in.

He pushes your ruined underwear to the side while guiding his cock towards your entrance. He nudges the tip against your clit, spreading all your wetness on his cock before he easily slips it inside you.

It feels tighter than usual, the plug sitting snug right by his cock, and you can cum from the thought alone.

“You two look so good together,” Seungmin mumbles, cupping his balls. With his other hand, he brushes Minho’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m so in love with you two.”

Minho thrusts up, hard, surprising a squeal out of you.

“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “tell him if he says that again I’ll cum.”

“Seungie,” you start, and Minho instantly picks up his pace, practically drilling into you from below, “S-Seungie, tell Minho how, fuck, how much you love him.”

“Shut up,” Minho warns, snapping the leash. You clench as your breath hitches, but that doesn’t stop you.

You wrap your hands around Seungmin’s cock, at full hardness again already, and start lazily stroking him.

He bites his plump lip, blinking slowly at the pair of you.

“Fuck, I love you two so much,” he groans. You pump him faster.

Your coordination is awful, and Minho’s thrusts keep jolting you around, and all three of you can barely move but neither one of you will stop.

It should be awkward. You think it’s nothing less than perfect.

“Hyungie is the best boyfriend I could’ve asked for, and you’re the best girlfriend. It’s like I have the entire world here with me when we’re together. I’m so lucky you two are mine,”

You feel Minho’s dick twitching inside you.

“Say it again,” you whine, “fuck, Seung, I love you.”

He sits up enough to kiss you firmly on the lips, and it’s one too many things to focus on so you don’t think you do a good job of it at all.

You try to put all your energy on Seungmin’s cock, knowing Minho is controlling his own pace well enough, but Seungmin already came tonight and your hand isn’t fast enough.

Still, “Seungmin, I love you so much,” Minho moans. “Fuck, I love you both with my entire heart.”

“Minho,” you whine, not used to him saying things like that so desperately.

“Hyungie,” Seungmin says as he pulls him in for a kiss, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The three of you start breathing desperately, all broken moans and messy kisses.

“I need you two like I need air,” Seungmin says.

“I couldn’t breathe without either one of you,” Minho agrees.

“Fuck,” you gasp out as Seungmin pushes the tail deeper inside you, “I need you two, I need you two more than anything.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Minho warms.

“Min, I love you,” you kiss him, “cum for us, Min, wanna feel you so close inside me.”

“M-me too,” Seungmin groans, “gonna cum, too.”

You can’t be the only one left out, and so you quickly start rubbing your clit in figure-eights with your free hand. It’s a mess of movements and an unsynchronized chorus of moans—but soon the three of you are all hit with it at the same time.

Minho gets there first, and it’s a domino reaction when Seungmin notices his boyfriend cumming inside his girlfriend, and your body reacts to the pair of them slowly after.

Minho carefully guides you off his thighs, ignoring the mess between your legs and the way it’s slipping out of your cunt and all over the bed.

He unlocks the leash, opens the collar and throws it off to the side somewhere. He only needs one hand to do so, and you can’t suppress the moan that leaves you from the sight of it. Luckily, they don’t think much of it as the three of you are all still sensitive.

Minho slowly, and with a few reassuring words, slips the plug out as well.

The pair of them rub over your neck and your sore thighs and your exhausted wrist. Minho takes a bit of water and washes over your neck to make sure your skin doesn’t get too irritated and then he makes sure to give you what little is left in the water bottle to drink. Everything still tastes of Seungmin, though.

After a few minutes Minho settles down against your chest, reaching a hand to hold onto Seungmin’s hips.

You’re sandwiched so closely together you might actually stop breathing soon—somehow it’s still not close enough.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho mumbles, eyes closed, “since when do you get sappy during sex?”

“Wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles sleepily back, “I was overwhelmed. I truly meant it all.”

“Of course you did,” Minho says, as if stating a fact. “There’s a lot of things I’m unsure of, but what the three of us have together isn’t one of them.”

“If you guys don’t shut up I’ll start crying,” you threaten.

Minho kisses your cheek. Seungmin kisses your shoulder.

“You mean the world to me, bubs,” Seungmin mumbles.

“I will cry,” you groan.

“Fine, I hate you. Happy?” Seungmin chuckles.

You giggle at him, “I hate you, too.”

“Why are you two so annoying?” Minho smiles, big and content. You kiss his cheek softly.

It’s sweaty in your three way hug, and you’re still sticky all over, and your throat is on fire from thirst. But still, you don’t move yet, entirely content with being wrapped all around the two of them, unsure of where you end and they begin. It’s fitting like that, you think to yourself, being so close together your breath easily turns into theirs.

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 1 day

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Glassy Eyes - Max Verstappen

Dark fic 18+ - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS. Minors DNI

Summary: Max is a toxic boyfriend at the best of times, but jealousy raises it's ugly head and he decides punishment is needed, till she's pushed over the edge.

Warnings/themes: Toxic behaviour, jealousy, smut (rough sex, overstimulation, toys), subspace

No part 2 requests please

Max likes having y/n with him a lot, he likes knowing where she is every second of the day, he also likes to make sure she knows that he's knows everything she does. Even if she thinks that he's busy, his attention is elsewhere or even if he's not in the vicinity, he wants her to think that he's aware of her every move.

But that doesn't mean she always plays by his rules.

Going to play padel with some others is common practice. Playing with Fernando, Charles and Lando is always a fun group.

"Y/n, how much do we have to pay you for you to find way for him to be ill at the next race?" Fernando jokes earning a grin while Lando nears her with a grin.

"Or what do we have to promise you to make it happen?" Lando teases making her face flush before she flicks her gaze to Max who is not hiding his annoyance.

"Now you're just making me seem like a bad girlfriend." Y/n hums leaning in closer to him, admittedly maybe flirting a little just as some banter, nothing of actual interest. But regardless she hears someone clear their throat making her turn to look at her boyfriend before she shifts moves to the Dutchman and tries to play it off despite knowing she's been caught. "Everything ok?"

It really was innocent, Lando just has a flirty personality. He flirts with half the grid most of the time, and she is certainly not the only woman he'll flirt with.

"You want to go get something to drink?" Max asks dodging the question making her know that he's really not impressed and his question is code for y/n to find an excuse to make an exit. "We won't be long."

"Ok."

Y/n does get a drink but she ends up deciding to just wait in his car while the boys finish up the game.

By the time Max gets to the car y/n is actually dozing in the reclined seat, but the moment he's in the driver's seat she jumps a little looking at her boyfriend. He hardly gives her time to readjust the seat before he's pull out the parking space.

"I'm sorry, Max." Y/n mumbles making hum laugh and shake his head.

"I invite you out to joy in, enjoy the sun. And you decide to flirt with my friend." Max states earning a wince.

"It wasn't real-it wasn't serious, it was just a joke." Y/n tries knowing that she's digging herself further into a depth that she really shouldn't. "I'm sorry."

"You will be." Max sighs while still focusing his gaze on the road.

If there’s one area that never lacks with Max, it’s sex. Y/n would be a bold faced liar if she tried to claim that sex with Max was anything less than the best sex she’s ever had.

And while unintentional on this occasion, him using sex to get every ounce of anger from his body on her is always just the best feeling in the world.

Until it isn’t.

She’s numb to everything but him and the toxic combination of pleasure and pain that he’s pushed her towards. Her body is slick with a cocktail of bodily fluids from both of them. Limbs as numb, lungs burn a little from his hold on her neck leaving her with limited air supply, she can feel her whole body trembling from his nonstop thrusts and her stomach aches from the abuse of her cervix along with the tensing from orgasms.

Max on the other hand is a man possessed. He isn’t sure he could stop if he wanted to. Seeing y/n such a wreck is only pushing him to keep going and with his stamina, y/n fears that might just be the case

With the Dutchman being a sex grins behind closed doors, people would be unsuspecting to discover he could navigate his way around getting orgasms out of y/n just from recalling memories of sex together. No touching of her body needed.

Much to her embarrassment, he really doesn’t have to.

Before he’d even touched her with intent, he’d let her use his thigh for her first orgasm. The second came quickly following that just from his fingers and the smallest of attention to her clit. The third when he brought out that wand which worked its magic and had her squirting on the bed like a he’d turned her into a fountain.

More shivers just at the memories of the first three before she’d even got the pleasure of his dick.

Forth and fifth orgasms came almost a matter of a couple minutes apart, practically no build up thanks to her oversensitivity. The feeling of his mouth on her was enough to make her scream his name and press her thighs either side of his head. That’s when she slipped into that headspace that he knows fairly well at this point in their relationship. Perfectly compliant to everything he wants from her even if she might be feeling like it needs to stop.

Is he chasing a sixth or seventh now? Or maybe eighth?

God is he aiming for 10?

Answer? Yes.

She’s lost count but she’s up to 8 and he won’t let her stop or tap out till he’s hit the double digits and even then he might.

He can already tell that her brain is starting to short circuit on the pleasure and pain over being overstimulated.

When the ninth orgasm strikes she’s a bit of a mumbling mess. But it also finally leaves Max cumming, groaning as he rests his forehead on her shoulder for a minute. Having to gather his own senses and ground himself again before he pulls out of her quivering pussy. She’s going to feel this all in the morning.

“One more baby.” Max soothes making her almost try and shift back but she’s to weak to fight him on it.

The wand is back out, making a quick job of pressing it to her swollen clit. Her body, again, on instinct tries to escape the overstimulating vibrations but his other hand finding grip on her sweaty neck stops her in her place, forcing her through the final orgasm and as soon as she’s spasmed and fought her way through it. He turns it off tossing the toy aside and taking a moment to just relish in the sight.

Not being able to quite control himself he pokes two fingers into her, but she’s too numb to feel it. Even if her pussy contracts at the intrusion and he groans feeling the puffy insides coated in his cum still trying to milk his dick that’s not there

“Max.” Y/n finally mumbles through her whines and shuddering. Her whole body feels prickly with the overstimulation.

He’s fairly certain he could spread her legs and just blow air onto her pussy and make her cry.

There’s cum leaking from her as well as settled on the skin of her tummy from her 7th orgasms where he’d pulled out and shot it onto her skin before giving her the 8th while he got hard again. She’s got droplets of sweat coating her whole body

“Ok. Ok, you did good.” Max states knowing that his words aren’t even getting through but maybe his tone in.

For a moment he tries to figure out the best way to try and ease her back from the subspace she’s clearly lost in.

He decides to run a bath and while it fills he gets her some water, clean up of the bed can be done after he’s cleaned her up in the bath and hopefully rehydrated her. He’d not be surprised if she’d lost as much weight in water as he does in a race.

Y/n does take a couple sips, glassy eyes watching him which tells him she’s still not quite back with him in reality. So once the bath is run he gets them both in the water, not surprised by her body just limp against him.

He’s gentle cleaning her body, then washing her hair carefully all while managing to place gently kisses on her skin and whispering to her.

“Do you want to stay in the bath and I can add some more hot water to keep you warm? Or do you want me to wrap in you a towel and we get you something to eat?” Max offers making her look at him those glassy eyes still unfocused but there’s some life behind them.

“Bath.”

Max nods deciding to add the hot water while he’s still in the water because he knows she’s still too out of it to voice that it’d be too hot or not hot enough.

“Ok, I’ll come back and get you in a few minutes.” Max states kissing her again while she nods just enough for him to know she processed some of his words.

He gets to work cleaning the bed and putting all the stuffing in the washing machine, then he actually gets dressed himself before he has remade the bed then he finds the biggest, fluffiest towel he can and sighs walking back in the bathroom. She’s lying in the water, keeping her face just above the surface but when he pulls her up she’s compliant to his actions.

Her body is bundled in the towel and set on the sofa. Eventually she shifts enough to get herself out and latched herself onto him. Slowly easing herself back into her normal self but she’s still got those glassy eyes as a giveaway that she’s not quite there.

“You need to eat baby.” Max whispers making her whine a little before he sighs and kisses the top of her head. “Can I get up so i can grab something for you?”

“Ok.”

“I’ll get you something really good.” Max promises knowing that they have some chocolate and if one thing is needed right now, it’s chocolate.

After getting the chocolate and some fruit juice to get her to drink. She does perk up some more, but Max lets her spend the rest of the day latched onto him until she falls asleep and then he goes on the sim for a bit.

At some point she appears sitting herself on the floor just to be close to him.

He mutes his mic to give her some attention between rounds and ends up with her sitting on his lap. Which the boys will mock him for and the fans will eat up. But he only has to smirk because neither realise why she’s so clingy.

Or that this happens any time she decides to upset him by acting like a slut with every driver on the grid.

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her-favorite · 3 days

Text

ATTITUDE READJUSTMENT; C. STURNIOLO

CHRIS STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, sub!chris/dom!reader

a/n: (sort of requested?) from this lovely anon!! sort of went overboard with it - also i can’t remember the last time i’ve ever been this quick to write a request before (or just write in general) so a special thank you to that anon!! <3

wc: 2,465

SYNOPSIS: Chris gets what’s coming to him when he decides to give you attitude all day…

Chris has been a brat all day.

From giving you attitude, to ignoring the things you say, to not even acknowledging you were there. You weren’t too sure why he was in such a bad mood, and you’ve tried to ask, but to no avail.

So here you sat, in a restaurant with your boyfriend, his brothers and some of your friends, waiting for your food. You’ve tried nudging Chris’ foot with your own to get his attention, but he’s yet to even look at you. You tried to go over your day yesterday to remember if you did anything that might’ve upset him, but it consisted of nothing but lying around and watching tv.

“Chris,” you whisper to him, close enough to his ear so he can hear you over the loud noise of the restaurant. You figured this would be your last try until he decided to cooperate with you. “Hello?”

“What?” His sharp reply caught you off guard as you leaned back in your seat. Chris looked over at you, his face stone cold as his eyes bore into yours. His silky hair went its own way, the messy strands somehow forming into the perfect look. His arms are crossed over his white shirt, tense arms flexing. “What d’ya want? Use your words.” He says sternly, never breaking the heated eye contact with you.

“Watch how you talk to me.” You reply, your anger seeping through your words. Chris seemed to enjoy the way you reacted as a small curl to his lips becomes apparent.

“Why? What’re you gonna do?” He smirks. Everyone else in the room became invisible to the both of you as you finally heard him speak to you for the first time today. Your jaw clenches at his attitude as your hand sneaks its way to his thigh, squeezing harshly. He gasps, his eyes widening slightly.

“If you keep this shit up, you’ll see.” You answer, never moving your hand from him. Chris’ breath hitches, but before he can say anything, the waitress comes by and begins handing out everyone’s food.

Some time passes by as others are finishing off their plates. Chris has yet to open his mouth to you, taking your warning seriously. You couldn’t help yourself when your hand drifts up, closer to his crotch. You notice his chest move faster and the soft sound of his breath catching when you do it, making you smile.

“Y/N,” his voice is breathy as he whispers in your ear, his tone seconds away from desperation. You ignore him, still picking at your food, your fork picking up then pushing food off of it. “Ma, please,” Chris remains quiet, hoping that no one could hear him. His hand rests over yours as he tries to guide it towards where he needs you, but you protest. Digging your nails into the fabric of his sweatpants, Chris has to muffle a moan from the sting of the pain.

As soon as Chris opens his mouth to complain, you look over at him, “Wait.” Your tone was strict, glaring over at him. He’s barely able to suppress a whine as he huffs, his jaw clenching in irritation.

Minutes pass as Chris grows more and more desperate, his breathing becoming uneven. As the waitress comes back to rest the bill on the table, your hand creeps up towards his bulge. Chris inhales sharply as soon as your hand cups him, rubbing softly.

“You good?” Matt glances over at his brother, his eyebrows furrowed. Chris nods in response, a quiet “yeah” leaving his lips. Matt seems fine with the answer as he looks back over at Nick, his other brother rambling about something he didn’t necessarily find interesting.

“Ma, you can’t do this to me.” He whispers, his voice breaking slightly at the end. His hand wraps around your wrist, but doesn’t make an effort to pull you away from him. Disregarding his superficial pleas, your finger traces over the print, sending a chill down your boyfriend’s spine. “Please, can you-“

“Time to go.” Your touch is immediately taken from him as you stand up and push in your chair. Chris looks up at you from his seat, dumbfounded from the lack of attention from you. “C’mon, let’s go.” Chris seems to snap out of his daze as he gets up and follows behind you, only staying inches away.

The drive home was painful; Chris went with you in your car as Nick went in Matt’s car, your friends branching off to go home. Chris wouldn’t spend a second without trying to get his hands on you or trying to get you to touch him, hell to paying attention to the road. Finally, when you reach the triplets’ house, you park in their driveway and shut your car off.

Getting out of it before Chris can start again, you make your way into their house, saying something quick to Nick and Matt before going down into Chris’ room. Not even seconds later, Chris bursts through the door and slams it behind him. As you take off your jacket, you place it into his closet, ignoring the needy man behind you.

“What the fuck?” His words don’t surprise you, his stunned tone only making an amused smile take over your lips. Turning around to face him, you take in his heaving chest and the still prominent bulge in his pants.

“I told you earlier, baby.” You reply nonchalantly, taking a deep breath as you try to compose yourself from smiling. “You’ve been too busy being a fucking brat that you didn’t listen to me like you should’ve.” Your voice is stern as you walk towards him, watching the way Chris straightens up at your words. “I told you to wait earlier but you’re so fucking pathetic.” You’re inches away from him now, your noses just barely grazing each other.

“I.. I’m sorry-“ Chris inhales shakily, looking down at you with eyes full of penitence.

“I don’t think you are, Chris.” You press on, your hands leaning forward to rest on his chest. Your dominant one glides up, wrapping around his pale throat. His pink lips part in response as you feel his Adam’s apple bob underneath your palm. “So I want you to make it up to me.” Your voice alone could’ve made Chris drop to his knees. He nods immediately, lust drunk on you. “Strip and get on the bed.” Your forwardness doesn’t seem to faze Chris as he quickly obeys, throwing his thin shirt over his head and his sweatpants down his legs. Removing the last article of clothing, he lays down on his bed, the soft comforter molding to his body.

“I think we need to put that bratty little mouth of yours to good use.” You begin, moving to strip your shirt off, your pants following. Chris has no room to disagree as his eyes widen and he nods with fervor. Gliding your underwear down your legs, you kneel on the end of Chris’ bed, taking in his needy state.

“C’mon, ma,” he whines, his hands reaching out for you, signaling for you to come closer. Despite being in charge of the situation, you listen to him and straddle his lap. Chris groans at the contact between you two, his large hands quickly moving down to grip your thighs. Deciding to give him a slight break, you lean down and press your lips to his, sucking his pretty pink lip so they become swollen. He moans into the kiss, submitting to your tongue. Your hands rest on his chest, lying your nails on his skin as they move up to his collarbones. Breaking away to get some air, Chris exhales heavily at the slight pain from your fingers against him.

“Please, Y/N, I need you. Y’make me feel so good, please,” Chris begs mindlessly, pushing his hands against your thighs, trying to get you to move against him. Pulling his hands off of you, with a pitiful whine from the man underneath you, you begin to move up his body. Chris almost moans when he realizes what you’re doing, swiftly wrapping his hands around your thighs again to pull you closer to him.

“Need to shut the pretty mouth of yours.” You look down at him, his mesmerizing eyes distracting you. Your lips fall apart as soon as you feel Chris’ mouth against you, placing a sweet kiss against your clit. Licking a line up your slit, his tongue is warm against you, yet it makes a chill go down your back. His short nails dig into the skin of your thighs as if he’s trying to suffocate himself with your legs.

Beginning to move your hips, a moan leaves your lips as his nose grazes your clit, hitting it perfectly. Chris seems to get off on your pleasure, groaning when he hears your noises. His tongue teases you before pushing inside you. Moaning in response, your hips never stop as they grind against his movements. One of Chris’ hands glide back, squeezing your ass and pushing you closer to him, if even possible.

“Doing so good, baby.” You mumble, your chest rising and falling faster as seconds pass by. Chris moans at the praise, becoming more brisk with his actions. “Fuck, you make me feel so good.” You knew the praise got to Chris as he got off on the pleasure he made you feel. “Love when you shut that pretty mouth of yours, letting me use it like the slut you are.” Chris whines against you, a vibration coursing through you. Your body shakes at the feeling, an immediate moan ripped from your lips. “I’m close, baby,” you breathe out, your hips starting to grow tired as the knot in your stomach becomes too tight.

One of Chris’ hands drifts up your body, grasping your breast, making your hips jolt. Your hand moves down to his hair, gripping it tightly in your hold, pulling a noise out from the man underneath you.

With incoherent mumbles and moans, the knot inside you snaps as your hips shake against him. Chris never stops, pushing his tongue around until it gathers every last drop of you. Breathing heavily, your body calms until it twitches from the overstimulation of Chris’ tongue.

Propping yourself back up on your knees, you can hear a faint whine from Chris as you move away from him. Drifting back down to his lap, you take in his disheveled state: his hair was messy against his pillow, his lips red and swollen, your wetness still on the bottom half of his face, and his chest heaving. His hands resorted to gripping the soft sheets, his whole being screaming desperate.

“You poor thing,” your tone contradicted your words as you observed him. Chris whines again, screwing his eyes shut as his hips try and find some sort of friction against you. His cock was painfully hard as the tip was beaming red, begging for your attention.

“It hurts so bad, mama. Need you so bad, please!” He cries out, arching his back slightly. You could practically hear his heart beat out of his chest.

“Have you learned your lesson yet, sweetheart?” Your hands roam up his body, pressing your fingers into the soft area around his collarbones.

“Yes! Yes, I have, I promise!” He exclaims, his neediness evident. You give in to him, taking his dick in your dominant hand and stroking him lightly. He gasps at the contact, his mouth immediately agape. Moving over him, you line yourself with him, dragging his tip down your slit. Whimpers leave Chris’ mouth at the feeling, his cheeks heating up, a light red hue taking over his skin.

“Shh, baby,” you try and calm him down, resting your opposite hand on the side of his face. He nestles into your palm, his teeth clenching once you sink down on him. With a groan from you, the burning stretch of his size always makes you falter. Once you reach his base, you stay put for a second, taking in the feeling.

“Please, move… please, I can’t-“ Chris’ pleas get cut off by a moan once you begin your movements. Rocking against him, his hands automatically grip onto your hips, just barely applying pressure to help you move on him. He lets out a heavy exhale every time you shift against him, already close when you’ve barely done anything to him.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby.” You breathe out, your palms digging into his chest as you grounded yourself on him. He whimpers at the praise, bucking his hips up towards you. Moaning in response, your head leans back at the sudden pleasure.

Your motions get faster and harsher as seconds pass, feeling that same tingle in your stomach again. Inaudible babbles leave Chris’ mouth, too caught up in the severe pleasure he was experiencing.

“You were being such a fucking brat earlier, y’know that?” You entice him, your hand just barely grazing his neck. Whines leave his mouth left and right at the sensation, his mind only focused on you, you, you.

“I know, ma, I’m sorry. I’m so,” a loud, guttural groan escapes his mouth, cutting his sentence off. “I’m so sorry.” He sighs, his words a jumble as he feels the hedonism take over. “I’m close,” Chris mumbles, his hips starting to stutter.

“Do you think you deserve to cum, baby?” You ask, your hips never letting up. A short, but high pitched whine leaves him as you move faster, chasing your own orgasm.

“Yes! Yes, please, please,” he begs, his lust clouding his judgment. He looked so desperate, pleading for you, his whole being a mess.

“Yeah? Then cum.” You order, not expecting him to immediately follow them. His body stills as his fingers claw into you, his mouth agape and the periodic bursts of him inside you. You follow soon after, ignoring the pitiful whimpers from the man beneath you as he grew sensitive.

As your thighs began to relax, you take some breaths before pulling off of him. You both wince slightly once you lean back up, but Chris quickly gasps once he feels your tongue against his cock.

“Wha.. what’re you doing?” His voice is broken, seemingly starting to fade from all the noises he’s made. He can’t help but groan at the way your lips wrap around him, his sensitivity heightened. He hisses at the contact of your tongue, throwing his head back with erratic breathing. “Mm, it hurts.” He whines but has yet to try and pull you off of him.

Looking up at him, you take him out of your mouth with a pop. “Better get comfortable, baby, ‘cause this is just the beginning.”

Maybe he should act like that more often..

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader

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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 days

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Burntout

I got upset and cried, and then I decided to try and write something that I am currently relating too, right now.

Lifes' full of up and downs, and sometimes its' okay to admit that you're not okay.

pairings: lotte wubben-moy x reader, alessia russo x reader

warnings: angst, meh.

The morning sun painted streaks of gold across the training grounds as you took part in another intense training session ahead of the upcoming game at the weekend.

You had joined the team just shy of a few months ago with dreams as big as the stadium in which they were due to play in, but beneath the facade of determination, you carried a weight that threatened to crush your spirit.

With each day that passed, you felt like the pressure mounted even more. The expectation were high, the scrutiny, the relentless pursuit of perfection - It all bore down on your shoulders like a somewhat invisible burden.

You found it easy to smile for the cameras, laugh along with your team mates jokes but inside, you felt like you were drowning.

There were a few of your team mates who were quick to note your struggles, 2 familiar faces from your past club, Lotte and Alessia, who had sensed the change in your demeanor. Of course they knew you all too well to be fooled by any of the facade you worse so carefully, they were able to see the cracks forming beneath the surface, the fragile threads that held you together.

Lacing up her boots, Lotte exchanged a knowing glance with Alessia, they both understood that something was amiss, something that needed to be addressed before it was too late.

During a break in the training session, Lotte and Alessia decide to approach you, concern etched in their expressions. "Hey, kid. Are you okay?" Lotte asked gently, her voice filled with geninue worry.

Your facade faltered, just for a moment, before you hastily plastered on a smile, "Of course, I'm fine," you replied, your voice a practiced melody of reassurance.

However, your team mates didn't seem entirely all that convinced. You should have known they would see through you and be able to recongise the pain hidden behind your smile.

You failed to keep your act up.

Lotte and Alessia were like 2 big sisters, you weren't that much younger than them, but you adopted the nickname as the kid, they were both fiercely protective of you and fought anyone who vowed to say anything bad about you.

"You don't have to pretend with us," Alessia stepped closer to you, her eyes searching your face, "We know that you're struggling. It's okay to admit it,"

Tears welled up in your eyes straight away as they threatened to spill over, the dam that you had built around your emotions was crumbling and you could no longer hold back to the flood any longer.

With a shaky breath, you finally let go of the facade that you had been wearing for so long.

"I'm not... I'm not okay," You whispered, your voice barely above a whimper. "I'm just finding it hard to cope right now, you know? I guess its' hard to try and fake a smile, act happy and that, when I don't feel like I'm truly happy."

"Oh kid," Lotte murmered, enveloping you in her comforting embrace, that Alessia joined in as well, both of them offering silent support as you let your emotions flow freely.

"Listen, Y/N/N, we know that you're finding things difficult here, but it will be okay and eventually, you will get used to it," Alessia said softly. "You've got so much potential, you're going to take the world by storm. We believe in you and your not alone in this anymore."

Lotte nodded in agreement with the blonde, "Less is right there, kid. We're going to be here with you every single step of the way, you can always talk to us about anything at all, remember?" she paused and waited for your response of a nod before she continued. "Your like a sister to the two of us and we hate to see you struggling at all, we love you so much, kid."

As the embrace with the two older girls lingered, the weight on your shoulders slowly began to lift and felt like it was replaced with a sense of relief that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Thank you," You whispered, pulling back slightly both of them, meeting their concerned gazes with newfound determination. "I promise I'll talk to you both and be more open about how I feel from now on. I don't want to keep pretending like everything is okay when its' not."

Lotte smiled softly while her eyes were filled with understanding, "We're here for you, always," she reminded you, her voice unwavering in its' support.

"Together, we'll help you get through this," Alessia rested her hand reassuringly on your shoulder, "You're not alone," she repeated, her voice filled with conviction.

#woso x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #heavy angst #scribblesofagoonerr #lottewubbenmoy x reader #alessiarusso x reader #woso imagine

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andvys · 22 hours

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side.

Warnings: fluff, lots and lots fluff, just a teeny tiny bit of angst, just a bunch of tooth rooting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: On a rainy Thursday, something shifts between you and Steve, something you can not see yet, while Steve gets lost in a glimpse of the future he could feel on this day.

Word count: 9k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, roe. especially with the last bit, you're the bestest ♡ Steve's shower scene was fully written by her so give her some loveeee

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

The rain paddles against your windows softly, the sun is hidden behind the heavy dark clouds, and the light wind rustles the trees outside. You didn’t close the blinds last night, but it doesn’t matter anyways, it’s dark and gloomy outside.

The soft covers touch your bare skin, the smell of cologne is heavy in the air, along with the smell of sex that still lingers after the previous night.

The weight of his arm keeps you in place, keeps you close, he is making your heart flutter in this early morning hour already.

He is facing you, just as you are facing him. His palm rests on your lower back, his legs tangled with yours underneath the sheets. He pulls you closer when you try to move, tightening his hold on you, but he is still so fast asleep. His lashes look so much longer when his eyes are closed, his features are completely relaxed, he is breathing softly, his heart beats against your palm as you keep your hand close to it.

You eye the moles on his skin and the scars on his body.

Your hands always itch to touch him, to graze his skin with the tips of your fingers, and you can do so when he’s fast asleep and unaware of your loving touches.

You raise your hand up to his face, pushing away the curl that hangs loosely over his forehead. Your touch is light as a feather as you trace the bridge of his nose, and his cheek, before you return your hand back to his chest, freezing when a sigh falls from his lips and he stirs in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him in the process before he sinks deeper into the pillows, eyes still shut and heart still beating softly.

You breathe out and relax when he continues sleeping deeply.

You don’t want to get caught admiring him, and touching him like this, when only a few days ago, you feared that you would lose him after Eddie confronted you both.

You cried yourself to sleep that night.

His words cut deep, and the fear of losing him added to the hurt. You weren’t ready to lose this, you weren’t ready to lose him, and you thought that you were so very close to it until he showed up the next morning, and asked if things would stay the same between you and him now that someone found out.

The weight that stayed on your shoulders nearly crushed you, but he took it off you, and without realizing that he did, he took some of your worries too, just not the pain, and the mark he left on your heart with a few simple words. But it didn’t matter, because kissing him and feeling his touch again, was all that mattered, to know that it wasn’t over just yet… that mattered.

You can hide the sadness and the pain when he holds you like this, you can even forget about it… momentarily.

You forgot about it last night, when he kissed your neck and he marked your skin, when he unraveled you with his tongue and the touch of his hands, when he split you open and kissed you like you were his, when he looked into your eyes and he held your wrist as the tips of his fingers touched your palm, like he wanted to entwine them with yours and feel you closer and closer as you were chest to chest and his lips moved with yours like none have ever did before.

Shivers run down your spine, and butterflies dance in your stomach when the sound of his voice calling out your name echoes in your mind.

You might not be the one for him. And you know that there might be others, but you don’t even want to let your mind go there, just the mere thought of it, fills you with nausea. He keeps coming back to you, that’s what matters the most to you. You know that you can give him so much more than anyone else ever could. If only he let you. If only there was a chance.

You nearly jump from the bed when the ringing of the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts, and it echoes through the quiet house.

Your eyes widen, and your heart starts pounding as panic settles deep in your chest. You stare at Steve, who is peacefully asleep, still.

You flinch at the second ringing.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you remember the burgundy car in your driveway. There is no reason for Steve to be at your place so early in the morning. There is no believable explanation either, what will you say to whoever it is on the other side of the door?

If this is one of your friends, you are screwed, so screwed.

You know, as a matter of fact, that it isn’t Eddie – he wouldn’t show up this early unless it was an emergency, and even then, he’d be in your room by now.

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to shake him awake, but he only grumbles in his sleep and hides his face further into the pillows.

You sigh.

You push his arm off and escape his embrace. You throw the covers off, and jump up from your bed, standing in only your underwear for a moment as you search for your clothes, you reach for his shirt instead and throw it on, before you rush out of the room, trying to fix your messy hair as you run down the stairs.

You don’t have much time to come up with lies and excuses as to why Steve’s car is in your driveway, whoever it is on the other side of the door, is getting a little impatient.

“I’m coming,” you grumble and unlock the front door before you rip it open, holding your breath.

“Finally!”

You sigh out in relief, rolling your eyes at your own panic. You step aside and open the door a little wider.

“What took you so long?” Your sister murmurs as she steps inside and brushes past you. She is carrying a bag in one hand and the bright pink baby carrier your baby niece is currently sleeping in.

All your annoyance leaves your body right this second, your eyes soften and a smile appears on your face.

“Hello to you too, Twinkie.”

She rolls her eyes at your nickname but pulls you in for a side hug after dropping the bag on the ground.

“Give me her,” you smile as you take the carrier from her arm, and carry it into the living room, smiling as you eye the little features of the baby girl. You put the carrier down on the couch. “Hi Francine,” you whisper, gently tapping her tiny nose. “She’s so big already!”

Your sister laughs as she follows you into the living room after kicking off her shoes, “you’ve seen her last week, I don’t think she grew much.”

“She kind of did,” you whisper, taking Francine’s tiny hand. “They grow so fast.”

Your sister walks over to the window, peeking outside, she clears her throat, “do I wanna know whose car that is?”

You glance over your shoulder and swallow nervously.

You’re glad that her memory is awful.

Everyone knows who is driving the burgundy BMW, and your sister still lived in Hawkins when he got it. She should know who it belongs to.

Her lips curl into a smirk, and she wiggles her brows, “casual hook up, or… is it something serious?”

You know that she has been waiting for this day.

It is something serious, to you.

It is something serious when he holds you closely and kisses you softly, when his eyes soften and his lips curl into a smile at the sight of you.

It is something serious when your heart flutters every time his knuckles brush against yours.

It is something serious when you fall asleep in his arms and wake up in the very same spot.

It is something serious when you keep falling and falling with no end in sight.

Will you ever stop falling in love with him?

Will there ever be a moment where your feelings and your love will stop at one level, or will you continue falling harder every passing moment?

Your sister raises her eyebrows, lips curling into an even bigger smile, when she notices the flustered look on your face, the dreamy look in your eyes.

“Something serious, huh?”

You blink.

Staring at her, with your cheeks now feeling warm… way too warm, you shake your head quickly.

“N-No.”

You curse inwardly, for giving yourself away so easily with your stuttering and your blushing. That’s not how you ever reacted before when she mentioned any of your hookups.

She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows, “mhm sure, Daisy.”

You roll your eyes at her teasing glances, but the nickname makes you smile.

Out of all the flowers, your mom loved Daisies the most, she would put the dainty flowers in your braids, and behind your ear whenever you were out in the garden. You would pick them for her and make little bouquets to surprise her with.

She always called you her little Daisy.

Your sister picked up on that nickname, though she used it to mock you at first when she went through a weird phase of hating flowers – which is really ironic considering the flower shop she ended up working at when she moved to the city.

She could’ve given you another nickname, something silly – something like the name you gave to her, but she spared you, luckily.

“Shut up, Twinkie,” you mumble, as you look back at your niece, who is beginning to stir in her sleep, her long lashes fluttering as small noises escape her mouth. “As happy as I am to see this little bean, why are you here at uh,” you pause, turning your head to look at the clock on the wall, “ten in the morning?” You ask.

She makes her way over to you, a sweet smile appearing on her face, as she gives you her best puppy eyes.

“I was hoping that you could look after Francine?” She asks, still smiling. “Lisa is getting married soon, and she asked me to go wedding dress shopping with her, I can’t take her, we’ll probably be out all day, and I can’t wait for Ethan to get home, his shift won’t end before–”

“It’s fine, I’ll look after her,” you interrupt her, despite the slight nervousness that rises up in you.

You have no experience with babies at all, you have given her the bottle, you even changed her diaper, but your sister was around, and you didn’t spend the whole day alone with her.

She sighs in relief, she puts her hand on your shoulder, “oh thank you!”

“Don’t mention it, I’d never say no to hanging out with my favorite girl.”

“You need to spend more time with her anyways, you coming once a week isn’t enough!”

You frown at your sister, “you’re the one who moved away!”

She waves her hand at you, walking around the couch, she walks over to the carrier, “she always does that little scrunch with her nose before she wakes up.”

You smile, watching as she leans in to place a gentle kiss to her daughter’s cheek.

“Okay,” she whispers, pulling back to look at you, “I put everything into the bag, diapers, bottles, formula, a change of clothes in case her diapers leak, and uh… pacifiers. And uh, you know if she cries just lie down with her and put her on your chest, she loves cuddles.”

You nod, “yeah, I know, I haven’t forgotten. I got this.”

“Yeah you do, Daisy. And if you need help, just call Eddie–”

“Are you kidding?” You laugh, shaking your head as amusement flashes in your eyes.

Eddie and Max were there, the last time your sister showed up with her husband and little Francine.

While the redhead was rather excited to hold the little girl, Eddie felt too afraid to even touch her, and he nearly gagged when Max chased him with a dirty diaper.

“He looked at her like he was scared of her!”

Your sister laughs, “yeah, right. Okay, so not Eddie then, I’m sure Max would love to help though, or maybe someone else – but I’ll get going now, I promise, I’ll make it up to you, you got this, Daisy.” She smiles, ruffling your hair, she leans down to look at her daughter one more time, “bye bug, I’ll see you soon,” she whispers and squeezes her tiny foot before she steps away. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later, Twinkie.”

The moment the front door is slammed shut, you let out a long sigh, and throw your head back against the pillows on your couch. You bring your hand up to your face and pinch the bridge of your nose.

You are still tired, and it seems as though Steve is still sleeping soundly.

You want nothing more than to return back to bed and sink into your pillows again.

You definitely won’t get any sleep now, but you still get up and slowly lift the baby carrier, hoping that the movement won’t wake her up. You try to be careful as you make your way out of the living room and up the stairs.

When you walk into your room, you find Steve now laying on his stomach, his face buried in your pillow. The sheets are low on his body, his whole back is exposed.

The tiny cooing sounds from inside the carrier, cause your lips to curl into a big smile. You place it down on your carpet, and kneel down, giggling when you’re met by her big eyes. She starts wiggling around when she sees you.

“Hi little angel,” you whisper, and lean closer to unfasten the safety belts, before you lift her up from the carrier, placing your right hand behind her head, you pull her into your chest, her hand instantly reaches for your hair, clasping her tiny fingers around it, she makes you laugh when she starts pulling it, making happy noises while she does so.

You sit down on your bed, and lift your legs up, scooting back until you’re resting against the pillows behind you. You pull the covers over your lower body.

A small squeal leaves her mouth.

“Shh, someone’s sleeping,” you whisper, tapping her little nose, glancing at Steve who is starting to stir in his sleep.

You place her on your lap, and giggle at the cuteness as she stretches her little legs out. “That’s a cute onesie,” you whisper, rubbing her belly, “I bet you picked that yourself didn’t you? Pink is a pretty color on you, princess.”

She babbles and wiggles around as she stares at you with her big eyes.

Your voice, and the small coos pull Steve out of his deep sleep, his mind is still in a haze, his eyes still closed.

“Da da da.”

Your giggle follows the tiny voice.

Steve scrunches his brows together, gripping the pillow underneath him, he slowly opens his eyes and looks at your side of the bed, his lips part and his eyes widen completely, something in his chest stirs strongly as he stares at the sight in front of him.

He is still sleeping.

He is still dreaming.

A smile is resting on your face, eyes lightened up as you entertain the little baby girl on your lap, a pink bow around her head, big eyes resembling your own as she stares at you with a smile on her face, her hair color is the same as yours.

Steve swallows the lump that grew in his throat, warmth settles in his chest, surrounding his heart and filling it with something, with adoration.

His eyes soften when you lean down to kiss her forehead, squishing her tiny cheeks.

“You’re the prettiest girl, Francis,” you whisper, using her nickname.

His lips curl into a smile, despite the confusion that still lingers in his features.

This is surely one of his dreams, he is convinced of it, why else would he wake up beside you, and a baby who looks like you?

But when you turn to face him, and the little girl follows your movement, looking at him with wide eyes, he isn’t so sure anymore.

He blinks, watching as you reach for Francis’s little arm, waving her tiny hand at him, “say hi Steve.”

The little girl babbles even louder, making a grabby hand at him.

Steve smiles at her, raising his hand up, he waves at her.

You can’t help but laugh at the lost and confused look on his face, his brows are pulled together, his lips parted as he looks between you and your niece.

He turns around on his back, and pushes himself so he’s leaning against your headboard, adjusting the cover, he pulls it up higher. He looks around the room, before his eyes return to the two of you, he runs his fingers through his messy hair, eyes flickering back and forth.

Your lips tug into a smirk, you can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing right now.

You look at him, as you pull your niece closer, holding her up, you press her against your chest, “can you believe that we made a baby overnight?”

You almost burst into laughter when his brown eyes widened with pure shock, and he choked a little.

He blinks, shaking his head, “I know I just woke up, and I’m still sleepy… but… I still kind of remember biology.”

Francine makes another grabby hand at him, “ma ma.”

“I dunno, but I’m pretty sure she just called you mama.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, and he turns away from you, looking around your room again before his eyes catch the picture on your nightstand, the one of you and your sister. Oh.

“Ah… Your niece,” Steve murmurs as he looks back at the two of you.

“Good morning, Harrington,” you giggle. Francine copies your giggle, and Steve can’t help but smile. “Oh you like that name, huh? It’s funny isn’t it? Harrington.” Her little eyes crinkle, and she starts babbling with a laugh. Steve keeps her eyes on her, smiling at the little girl.

“That’s Francine,” you smile, introducing your niece to him.

Steve lifts his hand up, waving his fingers at her, “hi Francine, I’m Steve.”

She squirms in your arms, making happy noises as she blinks at him. Steve chuckles, he scoots closer to you, and he lifts his hand, and touches her tiny one. Francine wraps her hand around his finger, gripping it tightly, making his smile even bigger.

“Is your sister here?” He asks, without looking away from the little girl.

You shake your head, “no, she asked me to babysit today. So uh… I’ll be busy with my girl here today.”

The urge to stay here with you, and this cute little mini you, feels so strong.

“Want me to help?” Steve asks.

You’re a little stunned by his question, and can only stare in surprise.

“Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t mind staying to help,” Steve shrugs, glancing at you for a second before he gives his attention back to Francine, who stares at him in awe.

The thought of spending a whole day with Steve, taking care of a baby with him, sounds like heaven.

The only reason why he’s ever even around you without the group is because of sex, and that only. You don’t meet up just to watch movies, cook together or anything else, you only meet up for one thing, that’s all.

The fact that he is willing to just spend time with you, without expecting anything to happen baffles you a little.

“I-I… Do you really want to stay?”

He nods.

“Not much of a choice, to be honest,” he murmurs with a fond smile on his face as he gestures to your niece who is still holding his finger tightly.

“O-Okay,” you whisper, shakily as nervousness and excitement rise up in you.

“She’s so adorable,” Steve whispers, chuckling when Francine babbles at him, “she looks like you.”

You smile before you realize what he just said, and heat rushes to your cheeks.

She’s so adorable, she looks like you.

“I-I uh,” you stutter, trying to keep your cool, “so you’re gonna stay then?”

“Yeah, I’d love to hang out with Blondie and mini Blondie over here,” he chuckles as he taps her nose.

Your heart could burst right then and there, your cheeks feeling incredibly hot the longer you sit here and stare at him.

“Cool,” you say with a small voice as you suddenly feel the need to escape for a moment, “would you mind looking after her for a moment then? I wanna take a quick shower or else I’ll walk around looking like a bum all day.”

Steve turns to look at you, he takes in the sight of your messy hair, and the shirt on your body, only now noticing that it’s his. His insides tingle, and his lips curl into a smile.

You look like a cute bum. He almost blurts out, but bites his tongue.

“Sure, go ahead, me and Francine are just gonna hang out, right?”

She squeals in response, making jumpy movements.

You both laugh at her.

You lay her down beside him, and tickle her belly, giggling when she starts kicking her feet, “alright, I’ll be right back, angel.”

Steve doesn’t even notice how big his smile is, how soft his eyes are as he stares at you, how warm the feeling in his chest is.

“She might roll over on her belly, and if she gets a little fuzzy just pick her up, she loves snuggles. I’m gonna be quick.”

Steve scoots closer to Francine, leaning his elbow on the pillow, he rests his head against his palm, and glances at you, “it’s fine, take your time, I’m just gonna chat with her.”

Francine is still kicking her feet and waving around with her little arms.

“Oh yeah, she’s very talkative,” you giggle, and get up from the bed, you walk over to your dresser and pick out some clothes to change into. As much as you would love to wear his shirt all day, he needs it himself – although, you wouldn’t mind him walking around shirtless.

Once you get everything you need, you turn back to take a look at them, and you nearly melt into a puddle when you see the way she is still clutching his finger, kicking her legs and babbling something to him, while he watches her with a smile on his face.

“O-Okay, I’ll be right back.”

You leave the room in a haste, but Steve doesn’t even notice, too busy staring at little Francine. He adores the resemblance of you, and the color of her eyes that matches yours, she truly looks like you.

Steve can’t remember the last time he saw or even held a baby, he’s not sure if he ever even held one. He was ten when one of his cousins was born, but he didn’t care to hold him back then.

Francine keeps making a grabby hand at him, while she tugs at his finger, starting to get fuzzy after a few minutes pass without your presence in the room.

He sits up straighter and pulls the blanket up higher, he reaches for one of your throw pillows and places it on his lap.

“Alright Francine,” Steve whispers, he takes a deep breath and furrows his brows in concentration as he carefully lifts her up, supporting her head with his palm, he pulls her closer and lays her down on the soft pillow.

She coos and starts blowing bubbles, making Steve laugh.

“Oh, you’re so adorable,” he smiles, pulling her a little closer, “did you pick that bow today?” He asks, eying the headband around her little head.

She makes a few grunting noises, though looking at him with a happy look on her face.

“Your auntie loves those bows too, she puts some in her ponytails sometimes,” Steve says, talking to her as though he will get more than just a few babbles from her. “I bet you’re gonna steal them from her someday–”

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

Steve’s face pales at the sound, his eyes widen.

The noise that came from her diapers sounded more than just air.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before his eyes widen further at the curse word that just left his lips, “I shouldn’t have said that, shit– I mean, I’m sorry, please forget what I just said,” he rambles, as though she understood a single thing that he said.

Francine babbles, kicking her feet into his stomach with a happy squeal.

“Um,” he panics, looking around the room, “Blondie!?”

“What Steve!?” You call from the bathroom, “it’s been five minutes!”

“I uh–” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he furrows his brows, “code red…?”

You nearly laugh at his choice of words, you only ever used code red in the upside down, for the real emergencies.

You can already guess what happened, and it only makes your amusement grow bigger. You quickly put your clothes on, and brush your hair before you make your way out of the bathroom and back to them.

“Okay, I’m here,” you announce, placing his shirt that you stole earlier on your bed, you walk over to his side, and take a seat beside him, “that was the quickest shower of my life.”

He gets a whiff of your vanilla body wash, of the mint from your toothpaste, and the smell of perfume that lingers in your hair, making his chest flutter.

“She uh– I think she needs a diaper change.”

“Oh,�� you laugh, “that’s what you’re panicking about?”

Steve glares at you.

“You wanted to help,” you shrug as you get up again, making your way out of the room again to get the bag with Francine’s stuff. “You gotta learn how to change diapers, Harrington!”

Steve huffs nervously, “no big deal right?” He whispers to Francine.

“Da da da.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “right.”

You come back into the room, and put the bag on the ground, picking out new diapers, wet wipes, baby powder and the spare onesie, along with the thin baby towel that you spread out on your mattress.

“Alright, Lego head,” you raise your eyebrows at him, “do you wanna practice for your future nuggets or are you scared of baby poop?”

He snorts, shaking his head at you.

“No, I’m not scared of baby poop.”

You walk over to them both and lean down before him, you pick Francine up, and scrunch your face up, “yeah, you really need a diaper change, angel.”

Steve watches as you carry her over to the other side, placing her down on the towel you spread out. You undo the buttons of her onesie, smiling at the little girl.

“Well, come on,” you giggle at him, “it’s an experience you gotta make, Steve.”

Steve takes a deep breath, he throws the pillow off his lap and removes the cover. He gets up from the bed, standing there in his boxers for a moment, until his eyes find the sweatpants he discarded last night, he quickly throws them on, along with the shirt you wore earlier.

“Alright,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, he walks up beside you, “just tell me what to do.”

You chuckle at his nervousness, you place your hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry, if Max was able to do it, you can do it too.”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips.

You guide him, giving him a little step by step of what to do.

You watch the way his brows knit together, and the way he is nodding to himself as he follows your words.

He doesn’t even look disgusted when the smell hits him, he only chuckles at the way Francine continues babbling happily.

“She’s a happy baby, isn’t she?”

You nod, smiling down at your niece, “yes she is.”

You hand him the new diapers and the baby powder, before you put the used wipes into the dirty diaper, roll it up carefully and throw it into the trash in your bathroom before you return to your room.

“How old is she?”

“She’s gonna be three months old tomorrow,” you say, smiling as you step up beside him again.

Steve raises his eyebrows at Francine, “oh, you’re gonna be a big girl tomorrow?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, making her laugh.

The smile on your face widens, the feeling in your chest growing stronger and brighter.

Her small giggles, and the fond smile that rests in his tired features spark something deep inside of you, a warming and comforting feeling appears as you watch him take care of her with careful and slow movements.

“Is that okay?” He asks you, gesturing to the diapers he put on her, “or is it too tight?”

You lean closer to him and check the pressure, “no, that’s perfect, Steve.”

“It is?” He asks, surprised.

You nod, and start to put her onesie back on, “yeah, I don’t even know what you panicked about, you’ve done a better job than me, I didn’t know what I was doing the first time,” you laugh. “You did good, Lego head.”

A dimpled grin appears on his face, despite the redness in his cheeks.

“I-I think caring for a bunch of kids that turned into teens turned me into a natural, even babies. I mean, Dustin counts as a baby, doesn’t he?” He jokes, watching the way your eyes crinkle and your lips spread before you burst into giggles.

Francine watches you with big eyes before she copies your giggles like before.

Steve’s eyes light up, as he watches you both.

The warmth in his chest spreads, as happiness rises up in him.

After adjusting her clothes and the bow on her head, you pick her up into your arms, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

You don’t even notice just how soft the look in his eyes, how the ghost of a smile now lingers on his lips, as he stares at the both of you in awe, watching the way Francine buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you keep a gentle hand on the back of her head.

“Do you want some breakfast? I can make you something after I give this princess her bottle, I think she’s getting tired again.”

Steve’s heart thumps strongly in his chest, he can’t deny the emotions of adoration in him as he looks at you with the baby on your arm.

“I can make you a breakfast sandwich or anything else you want.”

Steve blinks.

“Uh, you don’t have to make anything for me, Blondie. I can make you something though.”

You shake your head, “no, you’re my guest, I’ll make you breakfast, and you can feed her if you want.”

“Okay,” he says with a sigh, nodding his head, “I’ll make you lunch or dinner though.”

“Oh, are you gonna woo me with your cooking skills now?” You giggle.

He looks down with a smile, “I promised I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.”

Francine clasps her fingers around your hair again, pulling it stronger than before, making you wince a little.

“Okay, okay, someone’s getting a little grumpy now. I’m gonna go make her the bottle.”

“I’ll be right there with you, I’m just gonna go brush my teeth real quick,” Steve gestures to your bathroom, “do you need me to carry the bag down?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not heavy,” you say as you step towards him, “but can you help me put it on my shoulder?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He grabs the bag and steps towards you, putting the strap around your shoulder. His eyes soften yet again, when he sees you looking down at your niece, smiling as she blinks at you with her big eyes.

Steve doesn’t even notice that his hand still lingers on your shoulder, or that he’s rubbing your back, he is too in awe of the two of you, and that feeling stays with him, even when you leave the room and go downstairs, even when he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, and he can’t even unsee the happiness and the relaxation in his features, but he decides to pay no mind to it.

When he joins you downstairs, he finds you in the kitchen, finishing up on Francine’s bottle, you’re shaking it, while whispering something to her as you’re still holding her in your arm, still.

Steve doesn’t know what it is, but the sight before him, makes him freeze in his spot.

As you stand there in your kitchen, with a smile on your lips, and a look of adoration in your eyes, you’re cooing at your niece, giggling every time she babbles something at you, he realizes something.

You are comfortable, right now.

You’re in your home, away from the eyes of strangers, hidden from the world that you have only shown one side of yourself to, your walls are down, you are just yourself, and there is no shame behind your eyes, because all your attention goes to someone you adore and love, and don’t feel the need to hide from.

Your eyes shine brightly, your features are relaxed in a way they have never been before, and your smile is so genuine, so real.

You’re talking to her with a small and gentle voice, you hold her tightly against your chest – and you… god you look so beautiful like this.

You look so beautiful with a baby in your arms.

Warmth spreads across his whole body, he likes the sight in front of him, he likes it so much that it should scare him, but it doesn’t.

“There he is, Francis,” you smile, glancing at Steve, you don’t even notice how frozen in place he is, how heaven struck he looks, “are you ready to give her the bottle?”

Steve blinks, snapping out of his mind, he nods at you with a blush on his cheeks.

You brush past him, and gesture for him to follow you into the living room, after you grab the cloth from the counter.

You place the bottle on the coffee table, and wait for him to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright, you gotta tell me what to do,” Steve says nervously, as he sits down, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Don’t be nervous, you got this,” you assure him.

You step between his legs, and lean down to place Francine into his arms.

Without needing to be told, he cradles the back of her head, as he gently pulls her into his arms, a smile spreading on his lips when her big eyes look into his.

“Okay,” you whisper and put the cloth under her chin, adjusting it over her clothes in case a little accident might happen.

“Am I holding her correctly?” Steve asks, looking up at you.

The side of her face is nuzzled into his chest, the back of her head resting in the crook of his arm. You didn’t even need to guide him, he truly is a natural.

“Yeah,” you smile, “you’re doing great.”

You hand him the bottle, and sit down beside him.

“Did you test the temperature?” Steve asks, and you almost want to laugh at his question.

“Yeah Steve, I did.”

He nods at you.

With a chuckle, you pull your feet up onto the sofa and sit on your knees, turning your body towards them.

“Okay, now gently place the teat into her mouth and slowly tilt the bottle, she will do the rest.”

He furrows his brows, poking his tongue through his lips, he focuses on your niece as he follows your words.

You watch him closely, how soft and concentrated his eyes are, how careful his movements are, how small she looks in his arms, how sweet the sight of them is.

Francine raises her little arm, and places her tiny hand on the bottle as she starts sucking on the teat, small noises falling from her.

“Oh my god,” Steve whispers, the biggest smile you have ever seen, now glowing in his features as he looks at her in awe, “she’s the cutest little bean.”

“Yeah, she is,” you smile and tilt your head as you watch them, the fluttering feeling in your chest sparking.

Her eyelashes flutter, her big eyes still staring into his.

“I’m gonna cry, Blondie,” Steve murmurs, adoring the little human in his arms. “She's so tiny and adorable.”

You move closer and reach for the corner of the cloth, wiping away the bit of milk that rolls down her chin.

“You’re gonna have one of those someday too.”

Steve smiles at your words, nodding as he whispers “hopefully.”

But he doesn’t notice the way your own smile falls, the way your eyes sadden for a moment, the way you look down and blink away the feelings you don’t want him to see. And he doesn’t realize how quiet you get, he is too distracted by Francine and the thoughts in his head, the pictures of a future he longs for so badly.

Only when the bottle is empty and he removes it, does he turn back to you, but still too blinded by his mind to see the look in your eyes. You take the bottle from his hand, and place it back on the coffee table.

“You gotta hold her against your chest now,” you tell him and remove the cloth from her body, you place it on his chest instead, “and gently pat her back so she can burp.”

You guide him again, helping him hold her correctly as he places her against his chest, he puts his hand on her back, and starts patting gently.

“Is that good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, you reach for her tiny hand, caressing it as you watch her with a smile on your face, “she’s tired.”

“Yeah, pooping must’ve been really exhausting,” Steve jokes, making you giggle.

“Yeah, totally–”

A loud burp falls from her mouth.

“Oh that was a big one,” Steve chuckles as he stops patting her, “you did good, bug.”

“She didn’t even spit, she usually does a little, wow you really do have magical hands,” you chuckle, and remove the cloth from his shoulder.

“Told you, I’m a natural,” he smiles proudly.

You roll your eyes playfully.

“Do you want me to take her now?” You ask.

He shakes his head at you, “can I hold her for a while?”

Confusion flashes in your eyes. You know how badly he needs his coffee in the mornings, it’s one of the first things he does after he wakes up, going into the kitchen to brew his beloved morning coffee. He didn’t even take a single sip yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind, he is too in awe of the baby on his chest.

Realization replaces the look in your eyes – he is entering a baby fever trance, with your niece nonetheless. It makes your smile reappear, that’s how you feel too, every time you get to spend time with her.

“Of course,” you whisper, as your gaze softens.

Francine’s eyelashes flutter, her blinking getting slower and lesser.

“She’s gonna pass out though, you should sit back a little so she can lay on you.”

He nods at your words, placing one hand on her back and the other under her bum, he lays back slowly, his lips twitching into a small smile when he sees her already falling asleep. She scrunches up her nose as she nuzzles her face into his chest, making you both laugh when she suddenly throws her hand up, managing to catch onto a strand of his hair.

She wiggles around for a moment, before her eyes start falling shut.

“And she’s out,” Steve whispers, chuckling to himself. “I wish I could fall asleep this fast.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Her cheek is squished against him, she’s breathing softly now, her hand falling from his hair and onto his shoulder, her little headband beginning to slip off.

You reach out to take it off her head slowly, and lean in to place a soft kiss on her forehead, unaware of the fond smile on Steve’s lips, or the feelings that rush through him because of you.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee and breakfast now,” you mumble as you pull away, and get up from the couch, grabbing the bottle and the cloth.

Steve’s eyes follow you as you walk over to the TV stand, and grab the remote, handing it to him, “you can watch something if you want, it won’t disturb her, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I’m good, I’ll watch her for now,” he whispers.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you say, and give him a smile before you leave the room.

A genuine smile.

You smiled at him before, countless of times actually, but he could never tell what was real and what wasn’t, what was genuine and what was forced or just sarcastic. But this, this was a real smile, and there was no second meaning behind it. You just smiled at him, naturally. It makes him feel… happy, and as he looks down at the little girl that has your features, he realizes something.

The feeling in his chest was never for nothing, it was never false or misleading.

It was just as real as the smile you blessed him with.

Suddenly, everything before him doesn't seem as dull and colorless as it did all these past months and even years, something sparks before his eyes and he can see again, he can feel something besides the never ending gnawing in his chest and the restlessness in his bones, the fears that nestled deep into his soul. He finally sees something other than the darkened clouds and the red lights that keep flashing before his eyes.

A light that keeps peeking through every once in a while is on the verge of breaking through, making the walls around him rattle as the foundation starts to crumble, one brick at a time starts falling into an abyss.

A future lays before his eyes, calling out to him and waiting to be grasped, an echo, a whisper, a glimpse of what could be if things were only different.

For the rest of the day, Steve feels as though he had fallen into a pleasant dream, a world where it’s only you and him, a little girl that made him realize just how badly he wants to have a family of his own – he already knew that he wanted it, but he pictured the wrong person by his side, a person he no longer even wanted.

He was blinded by old feelings, and the wish to have something real again, when it never even was to begin with.

The feelings that are sparking in him now, feel so different from anything that he had ever felt before, and he only opens his eyes to them more and more as the day passes, and he sees a side of you that he had never seen before.

He sees with how much love and gentleness you treat your niece, he sees the way your eyes hold nothing but adoration for the girl that you would do anything for.

He hears how soft your voice can get.

He feels how soft your touch can be when you once again hand her to him.

And his heart beats so strongly, so fastly in his chest when a giggle falls from your lips after Francine pouts when you take her away from him again, only to be forced to place her back into his arms when she almost starts crying.

Steve adores her, and he adores you – a little more as every second of this day passes.

The thing that pushes him nearer towards the finish line of realization, is this very moment in front of him.

Your niece fell asleep on his chest yet again, you are sitting right next to him, with your head on his shoulder and your eyes glued on her, your finger tracing her little features. The urge to pull you closer and hold you feels so strong to the point that his fingers start itching.

“I’m sorry I didn’t cook dinner for you,” he whispers.

You look at him through your lashes, the corner of your lip twitching as your eyes flicker to his lips for a brief moment.

The only light in the room now coming from the TV, the volume set on the lowest. The rain is still falling, even as the night nears.

“It’s okay, Francis didn’t let you,” you giggle softly, not knowing that the sound makes his heart flutter. “Besides, the pizza was really good.”

“Yeah, it was,” he whispers.

He notices how tired you look, how the sleepiness is beginning to set into your features now too.

“Look at her tiny nose,” you whisper as you look back at her, “and those little hands.”

Something in the way you hold her hand and whisper so adoringly about her, makes him long for you even more – but not in a way he had felt before, no, this is different, this is so very serious.

Steve lifts his arm as a blush creeps up to his cheeks, he wraps his arm around you, and pulls you closer, “come here,” he whispers into your hair, “there’s space for two Blondies on my chest.”

He doesn’t know what kind of emotions he can trigger in you, with such simple words.

He doesn’t know that you have been dying to feel this.

You lay your head on his chest, and he can’t help but smile at the sigh that falls from your lips. You put your arm around Francine, and snuggle against him, and you stay like that, for a while at least, until Steve allows his feelings to take the lead.

He adjusts the blanket over Francine before he pulls you even closer, and he buries his fingers in your hair, allowing himself to play with it like he only ever does when you’re fast asleep and unaware of his soft touches or the glances that fall upon your skin.

He would feel joy if he knew about the emotions that linger inside of you.

“You will be an amazing dad to your little nuggets someday, Steve,” you say in a whisper, it’s almost too quiet for him to hear, “and a good husband too.”

The shakiness in your voice and the sadness goes by unnoticed by him, he is too stunned by your words.

If he could see inside your head, he would know how much sadness there is, how the dark clouds always reside, how you don’t see a future for yourself because you know that he won’t be in it, and without him, what will you have? What will you be? A wilting rose, left behind to die. You are barely holding on now, but you are still here, because he is still keeping you alive. Your life is in his hands.

Steve takes a deep breath, he opens his mouth to whisper to you, only to see you fast asleep now too, your cheek squished against his chest just like Francine’s is.

He breathes out, lips curling into a smile as he stops playing with your hair.

“You will be amazing too, Blondie,” he whispers.

A girlfriend. A wife. A mother.

Whatever you choose to be, whoever you will bless with your love, they are going to be so lucky to have you.

And before he can even realize where his thoughts are taking him, a frown nestles into his features. The thought that he will become a memory to you, makes him feel uneasy. The thought that someone will step into your life, and take away what you both have, fills him with gray-ish sadness once again. The image of someone putting a ring on your finger and getting to be the one to lift the veil and kiss you on the altar openly, in front of everybody, and without needing to hide, spreads the darkness in him, yet again.

He looks down at you, at the way you look so comfortable in his embrace, while your soft hand stays on the girl’s back, he admires you, and he feels no shame to do so, not even when he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face.

But his time with you is cut short when the front door unlocks and opens, and footsteps echo in the hallway, a moment later.

He turns his face away from you, when your sister steps into the living room, freezing in her steps when she sees him.

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, giving her a tight lipped smile, he raises his hand to wave at her, “hi…”

She furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of you three, her lips pulling into a confused smile. She takes her denim jacket off and walks further into the room, her lips curling into a big smile when she takes a look at her girl.

But then her eyes fall back on him, and suddenly, her lips part in surprise.

“Hi…Oh– you, hang on,” she mumbles, tilting her head before her eyes widen, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t know what to think of the look on her face, or the stunned tone in her voice.

He met her before, at the hospital when she came to visit you, but he didn’t talk to her, and her reaction makes him wonder if you have mentioned him before.

“Yeah… that’s uh… that’s me.”

The silence that follows is almost too loud, he can see the way she looks between you both, back and forth, as her brows stay furrowed.

She points a finger between you both, “so uh… you’re her boyfriend?”

Steve hesitates, and he glances down at you, bitterness lays on his tongue when he utters the next words, “uh… no… no, I’m not.” Sadly, he thinks.

And when he registers the words that popped into his head out of nowhere, he suddenly wants nothing more than to escape this situation, fearing his own feelings again.

“I-I should go now.”

“Oh, you’re not staying another night?” She asks, a somewhat smug tone in her voice as she looks at you.

He would love to, but it’s better to go now. It’s not safe to stay, not for his heart.

“No, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Ah,” she nods and walks over to the three of you, “I’ll take her now,” she whispers, and carefully picks her daughter up. The little girl stirs in her sleep, grunting quietly but not opening her eyes just yet.

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” Steve chuckles as he watches the way Francine relaxes into her mother’s arms.

“She really is,” your sister laughs, and walks over to the armchair, taking a seat before she looks back up at Steve, “kind of like Daisy when she’s relaxed,” she nudges her chin towards you.

A smile appears on his face, and he looks down at you, his arm is still wrapped around you, and he already dreads the feeling of having to let you go.

“Yeah,” he whispers, taking a long look at you, before he decides to get up.

A sigh leaves his lips, and he slowly slips away from you, replacing his chest with a pillow for your head, his eyes soften when you scrunch your nose up just the way your niece did earlier. He adjusts the blanket over you, fighting the urge to leave a kiss on your forehead before he steps away.

Your sister eyes him closely, watching how he treats you with so much care.

When Steve steps away, and looks away from you, glancing at your sister, heat rushes to his cheeks when he sees the way she looks between you both, a smug look lingering in her eyes, a small but teasing smile on her face.

He wants to run.

“Okay uh,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck before he points his finger at the hallway, “I’m gonna go.”

“Okay,” she nods, “thanks for helping with Francine.”

He waves his hand, a smile now reappearing on his face as he looks at the baby girl, already missing the feeling of holding her.

“No need to thank me, I loved spending time with these two,” he chuckles, pointing between you and your niece. “But uh, I’m gonna head out.”

“Alright,” she smiles at him.

He takes one last look at you before he turns around and makes his way out of the living room, he puts his Nike’s on, and grabs the car keys he threw on the counter, last night.

“Bye, Twinkie.”

“Bye…” She mumbles with furrowed brows, confused at the name he just called her by.

The front door shuts quietly, yet loud enough to wake you up. With a flinch, you open your eyes, and look around the room, feeling a little disoriented. You look to your side, the empty spot beside you, making you frown.

“Your boyfriend left,” your sister's voice sounds through the room.

You turn to her, finding her in the armchair she always loved so much. A smug look is resting on her lips.

“Shut up,” you mumble, glaring at her.

She laughs at you, and leans back, getting comfortable in her seat.

“Spill. Now.”

The hot water rolls down Steve’s skin, the smell of shampoo surrounds him as he washes his hair.

His eyes are closed, but a smile rests on his lips, as images of all the things that happened today replay in his mind.

The fluttering in his chest hasn’t stopped at all, everything you did, everything you said, every single touch of yours has seemingly turned him into a hopeless teenager again – only, he isn’t one anymore, and the feelings inside of him, go much deeper than the ones of a seventeen year old boy.

And no matter how much he tries to deny them, he just can’t, because it becomes less and less possible to pretend that they aren’t there.

Today, they shined through so brightly, when he saw how soft and gentle you could be, when he saw the sides of you that you never wanted to show. He saw something he never thought was even there. And it causes awful feelings to rise up in him, when he comes to the realization that all these years, you were only protecting yourself from the hurt in this world, and you did so by putting up a front and giving people the wrong pictures of yourself.

You were mean and rough to those you didn’t trust, and he was one of them, maybe he still is, but he saw you today.

When you greeted him this morning, with your niece in your arms.

When you kissed her little forehead, and held her in your sweet embrace.

When you taught him to bottle feed her.

When you admired her with him, and traced her little features with your finger and a loving smile on your face.

When you told him how great of a husband he would be someday, and an amazing dad to his nuggets.

Wait… you said nuggets, plural. He never told you he wanted kids, so how did you know? How did you even know he would love to call his children that particular word? Was it intuition? Was it a coincidence?

His eyebrows knit together with complete and utter confusion as the water just keeps running over his head, and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

The RV. His conversation with Nancy. Him telling Nancy he wants to be someone’s husband and have six nuggets. Him pouring his desires out, thinking that everyone else in the vehicle was sound asleep.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, you weren’t asleep. You heard him. You heard him talking to Nancy, and you– you think that he wants those things with her still. He should clarify it, shouldn’t he? He wants to tell you that it was the dread of the world ending talking for him. He wants to explain himself to you–

Explain himself? Why? You probably wouldn’t care who he has kids with, or who he marries. You would simply give him a thumbs up and a confused look on your face. But– He feels his stomach contracting with nerves, nerves he knows all too well. He doesn’t need to explain anything to you. He doesn’t need to clarify anything.

But, he doesn’t want you to think he wants that family with Nancy Wheeler.

He really doesn’t.

And he is terrified that he doesn’t want you to misunderstand.

Absolutely fucking terrified.

And then, the realization, the surprise and the nerves turn into absolute guilt. He had also said a few things about you. Nancy told him that it’s sad you had to be included this way into the party, into their problems, but that you looked strong and determined after going into the upside down just one time.

And he replied with how much he desired you wouldn’t have gotten involved at all. It sounded harsh, it sounded vile and venomous… And it was intended that way, or at least that’s what he thought.

Now, he realizes that he didn’t want you involved so you wouldn’t go through danger, but you did, you went through so much pain and suffering. Nancy was right, you were strong, and you didn’t second guess your actions when it meant saving someone.

“Shit–” He jumped a bit when he felt the water turn cold, not realizing for how long he had been in his head, thinking, running through his thoughts and memories. He turned the water off and shook his head to get the excess of it out of his hair.

He got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, a white one that had the smudge of a lipstick stain that never got off. Your lipstick.

And just that mere stain made his heart jump and miss one beat, two beats, maybe three. Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He really wants you to know he doesn’t mean what he said in the RV.

To both of those things.

Especially the one about Nancy.

“Fuck me.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @maroon-cardigan @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @ibellcipem @corrodedcorpses @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- chapter fourteen #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington series #stranger things angst

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afterglowsainz · 2 days

Text

the prophecy | max verstappen

summary: you and max can never agree on the same topic of conversation and it might be the thing that breaks you up

warnings: angst, some yelling

word count: 805

the tortured athletes department series

you love max. you really do. but you hate when he brings up the same topic of conversation that you'll never agree on.

“i’m not moving to monaco.” you say for the million time.

“i’m just saying it would be way easier for us.” he answers unbothered while eating his dinner.

you avoid rolling your eyes at his comment and just decide to ignore him. since you got together, distance has been a complicated issue for you both. with max flying almost the whole year for races and then going home to monaco and you working and living in new york, the two of you only saw each other during breaks and when you could occasionally fly to see him race.

and yes, maybe it would make it easier if one of you just moved, but why did it have to be you? living in new york has been your dream since you were a kid and saw it in the movies, and now that you finally got a job that you enjoy in the city of your dreams, are you really gonna leave it? hell no.

“why don’t you think about it?” he insists.

you drop the fork you were holding on the plate creating an exaggerated noise.

“would you do it for me?” you ask, exhausted. “would you move to new york for me?” he shakes his head and went back to his dinner.

“is not the same.” he says.

“why don’t you move to new york?” you ask instead. this caught his attention and he finally moved his eyes from the food to you. “what is it to you anyway? you’re traveling the whole time, i on the other hand, actually work here.”

“you can get a job in monaco.” he replies like he always did when the topic came up.

“i don’t want a different job!” you raise your voice. “and i don’t want to move to monaco.” he didn’t said anything, fearing that whatever came out of his mouth would disturb you more than you already were. “if you wouldn’t do it for me, why would i do it for you?”

you regret it the moment you said it, but it was too late now, it was out there. you could recognize the pain in max’s face from miles away and you felt a little guilty that you were relieved when you said it so you didn’t have to hide your thoughts on the topic anymore.

“because that is what people in relationships do, y/n.” he answers, his tone rather harsh. “you sacrifice things for each other.”

“why do i have to be the one to sacrifice things?” you couldn’t stop now that it was out there.

“why are you being so immature about this?” he exhales, a tired expression on his face which only made you angrier.

“i’m not acting “immature” about this.” you attack. “you just ask me to give up my whole life to go live in a complete different continent for you and i said no, period.”

“so what are we supposed to do, y/n?” he raise his voice at you also. “what are we doing here? playing around?” you frown, nodding your head in disbelief. “i love you too much but this long distance thing is killing me.” he admits.

to be fair, you weren’t the biggest fan of long distance either, but there was no other choice. it was either that or broke up, and you definitely didn’t want to break up.

“look, i know it is not perfect but what else can we do?” you ask, even though the answer was right there, it was obvious that neither of you was going to give in.

“this cannot be the thing that breaks us up.” he whispers but you heard him.

“of course we’re not gonna break up, max.” you say. “that seems extreme.” a grimace of sadness appeared on your face.

“well, i’m not sure what else…” he didn’t continue. “i’m not moving to new york.” he says with a serious tone. “and it seems like you’re not moving to monaco. and none of us wants to do long distance.” you kept quiet, trying to wrap your mind around what he was implying, praying that your conclusions were wrong.

“so?” you ask somewhat fearfully.

“so… i don’t know.”

“you want to end things?” you question straightforwardly, not wanting to wander anymore where his mind was.

“i don’t.” he answers. “but can we continue how we are?” his face was of true despair.

“is it really this serious?” your voice was seconds away from breaking but you didn’t want to look shattered in front of him.

“you tell me.” he says with a lump on his throat.

you couldn’t help but wonder if this was always how it was going to end.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula one x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #the prophecy #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #mv33 #mv1 #the tortured athletes department

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natailiatulls07 · 2 days

Text

Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen

Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending

A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻

She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.

Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.

“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really.

A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two.

A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch.

Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this.

Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now.

There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”

“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.

Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted.

“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.

His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.

“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.

“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her.

Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!”

Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help.

“Thank you…”

It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.

Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep.

She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.

As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile.

“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #formula one x y/n #f1 x y/n

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justauthoring · 2 days

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sincerity.

-> because gojo and geto have been in love with you since they first laid eyes on you, and marrying you was the least of their worries.

a/n -> i started this with no plan in mind so here ya go :) (i just wanted to write for my boys <3)

pairing -> satosugu x f!reader

tw. mention of (attempted) forced arranged marriage, implied physical abuse

"there you are."

eyes peeling open, you glance up at the two shadows with a dazed expression.

geto shakes his head at you. "we've been looking for you everywhere."

"you're a pain in the ass to find when you wanna be," gojo grumbles, looking decidely less amused than geto does as he crouches down, raising his head to lightly flick your forehead. "you know that?"

you let out a giggle, it light and airy as you roll your eyes at the both of them. gojo and geto glance at each other at that, raising a brow before their eyes fall back on you, laid back on the floor, head tilted back as you peer up at them through the top of your lashes.

there's a light flush across your cheeks, skin dusted with a pretty pink, and your gaze is unfocused.

oh, they realize, you're drunk.

geto's eyes flicker to the table your lower half was concealed by, only then noticing the many empty sake bottles thrown about half-hazardly.

gojo notices it at the same time and with a sigh, he presses his hand to his forehead.

"what happened?"

the smile on your face fades at that, falling with a twitch as the two of them stare down at you this time with concern clear in their gazes. an uncomfortable feeling twists deep in your chest and in your inebriated state, all you can focus on is that you really really don't want to talk about it.

any of it.

so, with a blink, you push yourself up, flipping yourself around so you're on your knees before them, grin back on your lips as you smile cheekily at them.

"nothing," you brush off, even though it's obvious it's not nothing. "let's do something fun."

gojo huffs and geto's face twists with hesitation; "y/n, i dunno if—"

geto is promptly cut off by the feeling of your weight falling against him, and he sputters for a second, confused, as he feels you crawl into his lap; something you certainly would not do if sober. your hands grab his shoulders, using them to steady yourself as you slip your legs around his waist, knocking him on his ass, instead of crouched like he'd been a second ago.

inhaling sharply the second you press your ass right against his nether regions, geto's hands are moving to your waist, hands tightening as he halts your wiggling.

"what are you—"

you just wink at him, head turning to rest on his shoulder as you turn your attention to gojo who watches on with barely concealed jealousy.

"satoru~" you call out, dragging his name out sweetly on your tongue as you stretch your hands out towards him, fingers wiggling. "come 'ere."

to his credit, gojo realizes he shouldn't given the fact that it was clear you were drunk and not in the right state of mind. but seeing you jump onto geto's lap like that had him burning with want and jealousy and he really isn't in the right state of mind himself as he submits himself to your call and crawls towards you.

you cup his cheek and gojo leans into the touch, mewling.

"pretty boy," you smile, blinking lazily.

gojo practically twinkles at the praise.

geto, still trying to ignore the feeling of you on him, maneuvers his hands, using his strength to push you back, albeit gently. you frown at his actions, attention turned away from gojo as you glare over at him, pouting.

"what's your problem?" you grumble.

geto just shakes his head, sharp eyes turning to gojo. "satoru," he calls, and gojo meets his gaze, ready to argue, before he sees the look being sent his way and is reminded of what's right (blegh) so he pulls his face out of your hand and grabs it instead to push it down, not letting it wander.

"y/n," geto calls again, and you turn to him, shoulders slumped, annoyed at your affections being ignored. "if this was any other time, we'd be all over you given that that's what we've been wanting for months and you know that. but you're drunk."

turning your face away, still perched on his lap, you cross your arms over your chest. "so?"

gojo coughs; "so... it wouldn't be right."

you snort. "as if the two of you care about right versus wrong."

"we do." geto pushes, thumbs stroking your hips. "when it comes to you."

you blink at that, eyes falling back on him with parted lips, before you turn to gojo; he wears a similar expression to geto. sincerity.

leaning forward, gojo brushes a strand of hair from your face, movements soft and gentle as he tucks it behind your ear. "what's the matter, baby? why'd you get drunk?"

feeling cornered and knowing they won't leave it until you answer, you lower your gaze. "it's stupid." you mumble, voice low, barely a whisper.

geto squeezes your hips, shaking his head. "nothing about you is stupid."

you hate them and their sweet, flattering words. you hate even more that it gives it's intended effect in the way that you're unable to resist either of them when they treat you like this.

"my father," you start, feeling that tight feeling your chest well all over again. the alcohol isn't much good for anything other than making you more emotional when forced to confront the emotions you'd desperately tried to forget in your drunken stupor.

"what'd your father do?" gojo sks.

"wants me to get married."

you feel geto tense underneath you and gojo's hand still against your cheek, there soothing movements on your skin stilling as your words hang in the air for a second.

"of course, it'll all be arranged according to him," you continue. now that the words were out, you found you couldn't stop yourself. you were angry and hurt and embarrassed and betrayed and it felt good to get all of your chest. "said i had no choice. i'm supposed to meet my fiance tomorrow... the wedding is supposedly next month."

you feel your eyes water, your emotions spilling over as your lips start to tremble. you can't look at their faces, ashamed even if you shouldn't be. it was your stupid father's fault and yet, you were the one being punished.

it was simply cruel.

your voice starts to tremble before you can stop it; "i haven't met the guy yet and when i tried to explain to my father that i wasn't ready, he... well..." you can't finish your words, the pain on your side that you'd been decidely ignoring, aching more than it had all night in that moment.

but geto and gojo aren't ready to let it go.

"he..." and geto's words are slow, calculated. "what?"

you just turn your head away.

"y/n," gojo calls, voice sharp, anger thinly veiled in his tone; but not at you. "what did your father do?"

"he..." still, the words won't come out. with a huff, you raise your shirt, showing off the bruise that had formed on your hip. your eyes fall shut when the both of them lean forward, geto's hand shifting to press above the bruise, holding his shirt up as gojo lets out a low, guttural growl.

"i'll kill him," gojo hisses, his voice the angriest you've ever heard it.

turning to geto, gojo emphasizes; "i'm going to kill him."

geto wants to agree but one glance at your red and teary-eyed face and he's nudging you to glance at them once again. you oblidge without much fight, turning to face them with wobbly lips and watery eyes, sniffling.

"y/n," geto calls, wanting your attention on him. "it'll be okay."

you just shake your head. "you guys don't get it. i don't have a choice—"

"marry us."

gojo's words cut in before you can finish and everything seems to freeze the second he says them. you pause, stilling in geto's grasp, eyes falling on the white-haired boy with disbelief, confused and bafflement all mixed into one.

for a second you think it's joking and you're about to curse him out for being so insenstive, but his face doesn't change and when you turn to geto, he seems just as serious.

"you're crazy," you breathe, mind spinning. "how... how would that—my father and..."

"the gojo clan is one of the big three clans, y/n. i have sway over these sort of things." gojo explains, face still serious, unwavering. "one word and anything your father says wouldn't matter a damn thing. and besides, i've been planning on asking you to marry me since the moment i layed eyes on you. suguru too."

lips parting, you turn to geto, only to see him smiling softly, nodding.

by the lack of geto's suprise to gojo's offer, you have the sneaking suspicion this is something they've talked about before.

"it can just be a formality," geto offers, sensing your apprehension. "nothing more than writing. i don't even have to be apart of it if you don't want. you just need the gojo name and then that would be that and you can continue on."

"or," gojo continues, "you can still continue on but... but it'd be real. not just a formality and not just in writing. we'd be your husbands and you'd be our wife. nothing would change other than our relationship to each other."

they stop at that, words left in the air as they both stare at you, waiting. your eyes flicker between the both of the, stunned, processing their words.

then, you speak up; "i could... i could still be a sorcerer?"

"of course," geto nods, not hesitating.

"either way," gojo agrees. "i would never take away your right to make a living for yourself."

"and... i'd be married to the both of you?" you whisper.

"if you want."

"only if you want."

you take the both of them in. seriously take them in. even with your mascara running and with a puffy red nose, they look at you like you're their whole world. this is how they always look at you, but it seems to really click in that moment.

their touches are gentle and reassuring and they don't pressure you. they wait for your answer and wait until you're ready to give it. gazes reassuring and smiles on their faces. there's apprehension and it's clear what they want, but they refuse to sway you either way.

they love you. they've told you before, many times but you'd always brushed it off.

you don't this time.

"okay."

the two of them glance at each other. "okay?"

"i'll marry the both of you," you whisper and the two of them straighten, eyes hopeful. "and not just a formality. but... but even if we're married in writing, i'd... i'd still like us to take things slow."

"of course," geto agrees instantly and you blink at how quick he is to oblidge.

"we don't have to have a wedding," gojo explains, then backpeddles. "not at first. it can just be in writing, to get your father off of you. then... in a couple months, maybe..."

"we can make a whole show of it," geto grins.

you snort at that, their excitement lightening your mood. "you're getting ahead of yourselves."

"can't help it," gojo breathes, leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. "we've been dreaming of this."

the admission stuns you.

"don't look so shocked, baby," geto coos, squeezing you so you fall against him. "we've been in love with you for months."

you lean into their touch, basking in it. basking in how... full of love it is.

letting your head fall against geto's shoulders, you close your eyes. "thank you," you whisper into the silence. "both of you. for everything."

geto's grip around you tightens and gojo presses a kiss at the crook of your neck.

"anything for you."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #satosugu #satosugu x reader

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devilevlls · 21 hours

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Lucifer’s lewd habits౨ৎ

Nobody asked for this one, but I can’t stop my mind from wondering about Lucifer’s kinks and preferences, so… I’m posting some of it.

(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Probably going to make part.2 if I remember more things.

Everything here is consensual. I’m talking about a scenario where both of you are aware of each other’s boundaries.

📌 TW: Shameless smut, explicit descriptions of lustful acts, intercourse.

Tried to keep it gender-neutral.

๋࣭⭑Lucifer is the shameless type of guy, the one that will grip into your hair or neck while you are making out and slowly push you down, asking for a blowjob without words. He won’t stop pushing until you finally reach the goal.

He likes it slow, going deep, and will groan when you suddenly circle your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.

๋࣭⭑I think he is someone who doesn’t like PDA while others are looking, but while in public, without catching any attention, he will twist your nipples over your shirt just to see them hardening. He will chuckle and mock you, whispering into your ear on how easy you are.

๋࣭⭑He will make you beg for him to take you, I’m not saying just playfully, but almost making it annoying/painful. Lucifer is a sadist, so, for him, seeing you actually getting mad for wanting to have sex was pure entertainment.

๋࣭⭑Loves shower sex, Despite his busy schedule, whenever he finds a free moment, he'll send you messages inviting you to shower together.

๋࣭⭑Accidentally spread his wings when too excited or too close to an intense orgasm. He won’t be embarrassed tho, but it can startle you a little o_o

๋࣭⭑Will give you lustful stares when you are talking in public, and will smirk when noticing the growing blush on your cheeks.

๋࣭⭑Purposefully rubs himself against you while “helping” you reach for something and lets you feel his intimacy throbbing with excitement. (I headcanon that the house of lamentation has big furniture, since they are slightly taller than average humans)

๋࣭⭑Loves when you worship his body, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as he observes your lips showering him with kisses.

๋࣭⭑Probably will ask you to kneel down and brushes his shoes against your intimacy, enjoying every whimper, every gasp you let escape from your lips.

๋࣭⭑While being the top, Lucifer will grab your hips with force and slam himself into you repeatedly, just to painfully slow down, making him slide in and out. Will chuckle seeing your needy reactions.

๋࣭⭑If he is the bottom, he will make sure to edge you, circling his hips on your lap slowly, making it go deep and then stop, feeling how your body tense with the feeling of almost reaching the peak and calming down again, never reaching the goal.

Plus for MC's habits with him౨ৎ

๋࣭⭑MC boldly grasps his horns as they engage in heated make out sections, unapologetically reveling in the sensation of pushing him to his limits. They adore the subtle frown that crosses his face as he submits to their dominance, though it's clear he thoroughly enjoys it.

๋࣭⭑Casually grabbing Lucifer’s ass as he walks by or while he is trying to give a serious speech. They would take care not to embarrass him in front of anyone tho, just silly moments where they know this would be possible, and they will only receive a threatening glare from the avatar of pride.

๋࣭⭑Nibbling on his ears. For me, Lucifer is a touch starved old man that gets shivers from almost anything, so nibbling on his ears would make him yelp softly, and he will blush if someone is around and hears it.

๋࣭⭑Will steal pecks from him while he is trying to scold them, making his cold heart melt little by little and as they notice him getting excited, they will rub him over his clothes, making the demon whimper softly.

IDK if there are grammar errors, wasn't really trying hard for this one, just wanted to share my thoughts.

Masterlistɞ 📌

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me one master to rule them all #evllsposts #obey me writing #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me luci x reader #obey me luci x mc #lucifer obey me #om lucifer #obey me hcs #obey me headcanon #obey me smut #obey me swd #obey me x mc

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redroomreflections · 2 days

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Late Night Discussions

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Natasha and R have a few minutes alone during the night

The Loud House universe - which you can find on A03 Here

18+ Smut Inside - Minors DNI

When you have a hot wife such as Natasha you can’t help but touch, taste, feel. It would feel illegal not to. She’s been standing across from you at the counter for the better part of a half hour. She’s asking for legal advice on “Official Avenger’s Business” as you like to call it. You answer as much as you possibly can without offering her anything that would require more brain power. Not now. Especially when your eyes keep flashing to her breasts and hardened nipples peeking through the cotton of her t-shirt. Natasha has noticed your staring, a flush on her face, and a smirk on her lips though she never stops to mention it. She enjoys the attention from you. Enjoys being desired by her wife. After ten years and five kids together she loves the way you want her.

You abandon your seat on the Island to come and stand behind her. At first, it’s innocent, just a gentle peck to her cheek as she leans her upper half against you. You run your hands over her belly, her waist, and her thighs. Some of your favorite spots to touch. Natasha melts at your touch, her breathing even, as you grip her waist to pull her into your front. Her lips part with a gasp as she finally gets a chance to feel the thick cock pressing against her ass. Now that you can see her lower half, you get a visual of it disappearing between two firm cheeks, poking at her pussy through her shorts, as you gently rub against her.

Natasha attempts to stay focused on her papers all the while pushing against the strap you’ve been hiding in your pajama pants. Even through the thin material of her panties, she gets that delicious feeling she’s been craving all day. You stroke her stomach, becoming dangerously closer to the waistband of her shorts though you never breach the barrier.

“Think you can take it?” You ask. Truth is your plan to fuck Natasha here in the kitchen in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly planned. You simply wanted to surprise your wife and fuck her senseless. You’re well on your way to that. All you need is her permission. Which she gives easily. Natasha nods in response as she bends over the counter properly. Deciding against taking off every item of clothing, you simply lower her shorts down mid-thigh then your own pants far enough to let the cock spring free. You shift your hips forward, sliding the cock through wet folds, as you push Natasha’s t-shirt further up her back to reveal every inch of skin for you.

Natasha lets out a whimper when the strap glides through her folds, the tip rubbing over her sensitive clit, as she leans her head against her arms. She wiggles against you impatiently and you know what she wants.

“Baby, you need to be patient or it’ll hurt,” You inform her, bringing your hand down to her front, to help her along.

“I’ve never minded pain, you know that.” Natasha mumbles. She hisses through her teeth when your finger presses firm circles to her clit.

“If you say so,” You give half a shrug. Who were you to deny her this? You wrap your hand around her waist to keep her steady as you pull back, guiding the cock to her entrance, and feeling the resistance of her incredibly tight walls, as she takes all of you. Inch by inch you slide inside of her until your hips are flush with her. Her breath has been stolen and you’re sure she’s not standing on the tip of her toes just for fun. Natasha has her limits and you both know them well. Which is why you go back to stroking her clit, your other hand rubbing over the span of her back soothingly as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full.

“Relax, Tasha,” You instruct and you can see her take deep breaths. “If it’s too much-”

“No,” She argues back fiercely. “Not too much. Just…full.” You nod even though she can’t see you. “Move. Please.” She adds and you quickly set your pace.

Nice and slow. Stroke in, stroke out. Her walls gripping you and pulling you every thrust. You raise your left hand to her shoulder, guiding her along your cock, as your other hand holds firmly to her waist. She can’t run. All she can do is take it. Whatever you’re giving her at whatever pace you’re giving it. Natasha breathes through her nose, keeping her whimpers at bay, as she rolls her hips just slightly.

Neither of you speaks as you fuck into her. Your labored breaths and the slap of skin against skin are the only things breaking the silence between you. Natasha let’s out something akin to a hum whenever you hit a spot that sends shivers up her spine. You always manage to make her feel so good. You can tell she’s becoming used to the pace you’ve set and you want to switch things up. So you grip her hair instead, wrapping it up in your hands, as you begin to speed up your thrusts. This time Natasha can’t stop her moans as she slaps her hand against the counter. She’s trying to be as quiet as possible but when you’re fucking her like this how could she?

“Shit,” Natasha whispers. “Harder,” She begs as she uses both hands against the counter to meet you thrust for thrust. She pushes herself back when you move forward, pulls herself away when you do. If there’s one thing about Natasha it’s that she’s going to take all you give her. When you tug at her hair, it’s almost as if you can feel her clench around your cock, as you set a brutal pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Becomes a mantra that’s sweet on her tongue as she closes her eyes. Only you’re not satisfied with that and you tug again, earning a loud cry, as you slam your hips into her. Natasha loses her will to stand on her own, so you release her hair to keep both hands on her waist. This allows you to keep up with your pace, an unforgiving one, as Natasha bites her lip. If she gets any louder while out in the open someone will come and investigate.

“You gonna come for me?” You whisper to her. She nods, letting her forehead rest against the cool marble of the countertop, as she surrenders to you. “Tell me what you need?” You whisper and Natasha doesn’t hesitate to reach behind her to bring your hand around to her clit. She positions your fingers over her clit, directing your touch with her hands, as she whimpers again. You enjoy the feeling of her wetness against your fingers. You love the sounds she makes when her hips stutter just slightly when the pleasure becomes too much. Another swipe at her clit sends Natasha over the edge with your name on her lips. She presses against you harder, asking you not to stop, as she climaxes. Hard. You keep your fingers on her clit even though you don’t have much of a choice with her hand keeping you there. Finally, Natasha releases her grip and drops her hand to her side. You rub along her back, helping her come down, as you catch your breath.

“About those copyright issues,” You say jokingly as you pull out of Natasha carefully. The glistening of the cock makes you realize how wet she actually was. Fuck it’s a sight to see. Natasha pulls up her shorts, turning to you, to kiss you soundly before she does something you weren’t expecting. She drops to her knees, taking the phallus-shaped toy, into her hands, showing off her fresh manicure as she licks at the tip. “Tash?” You question and she only responds by opening her mouth to let the tip rest on her tongue.

Seeing that she’s getting no complaints from you, she takes your hand to place on top of her head, smirking when she notices you take a handful of her hair. You don’t know what it is but seeing her on her knees for you, taking you in her mouth, tasting herself as she opens her mouth wider. That almost makes you come on the spot. Natasha starts with slow sucking. Just to get a feel of how she likes it. She doesn’t do it often and you’re sure this show is for you but you wouldn’t complain one bit. Natasha moves her left hand to shift the base of the cock, the material rubbing at your clit, as you rock into her mouth. You don’t go any harder than she allows. You don’t want to hurt her despite what she said earlier.

Damn, she looks so pretty like this. Swallowing inch after inch. Her gag reflex stopped her from taking you any further and boy does she try. She encourages you to thrust into her mouth, exaggerating the choking sounds, as she breathes through her nose. The sounds, the look of complete joy on her face, the way she knows how to touch you. You thrust a bit harder, fucking her face, as Natasha continues to rub your clit through the material.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise and before you can stop yourself you’re going faster. Chasing that high. Giving Natasha’s hot wet mouth all you have. She hums in approval and you come just like that. Standing in the kitchen, your wife with her lips wrapped around your thick cock, as she holds one of your ass cheeks in her hands to encourage you to chase that pleasure. She releases you with a pop, a string of spit following her and dripping from her lips before she wipes it away.

Natasha looks up at you with those eyes and that smile playing against naturally pink lips. Fuck you want to fuck her again.

And you would. All night.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

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I just want good angst about Bruce desperately trying to parent Tim but realizing he fucked it up

or Bruce realizing he kinda sees tim as a father figure in a weird way

or the bats all realizing how Tim’s been forced to mature quickly so he can take care of them, and he won’t stop trying to be the adult in situations even after the bats try to make it so he doesn’t have to

There are a few fics out there that center around Tim and Bruce's relationship after Bruce realizes how bad he treated Tim. "Grudge (I hold none)" by reinersbigtits. "Just How Much I Love You" by sElkieNight60. Honestly, a bunch of sElkieNight60 fics have Bruce trying to be a better parent. Their fic "Redraw Our Expectations" showcases Bruce trying to parent Tim and the teen finds that strange, weird, and restrictive. They chat about it.

I sadly haven't seen any fics where Bruce considers Tim to be his father. I have seen a few that describe Tim as his closest confidant or mental support, but none about the father hc/au :(

If you want some quick angst about Bruce seeing Tim as a father figure, here's an idea:

Bruce is ruminating on his kids. As he's going through his mental list of the kids (perhaps trying to remember where they all are), he realizes that it's an effort to add Tim to that list. At first, Bruce clocks it as the older man being a horrible parent to Tim or needing more time with his son. Bruce wants to fix this and sets out to do so. He tracks down Tim to spend some time with him.

Halfway through the hangout, Bruce starts to relax. They are both having a good time, chatting and laughing. It only changes when he notices Tim's subtle nods, his slight mannerisms that encourage Bruce to keep talking, and the scrunch at the corner of Tim's eyes that indicate he's proud. It's an errant thought of the older man, but one that rapidly changes his worldview.

Tim acts like Alfred.

Tim acts like a father to Bruce.

Tim has always acted like a father to Bruce.

What has Bruce done?

The comment about Tim continuing to be the "adult" or "mature one" in the situation because that's all he's known hurts. If you add that hc to the one where Tim is constantly told to "be the bigger person" when it comes to being insulted by his traumatized family members, that's painful.

Alright, let's build on this hc/au. I'm going to use subtle canon background clues to create a probable psychological assessment on Tim's behaviors. The reasonings are all hc.

Tim was emotionally neglected and abused by his parents (not nearly to the extent of fanon and his parents did love him, but that doesn't change their emotional distance or the harm Jack did after his coma). One could hc that, due to the limited time he spent with them before they left again, Tim tried to keep the peace when they were there. He wanted to spend the time with his parents not fighting, even if that meant choking down his own emotions/needs, placating his parents, and overall keeping a pleasant demeanor around them regardless of passive aggressive insults (looking at Jack here).

If his parents had marital issues, like fighting and insulting each other in front of Tim, the child might have tried to mend their fights and solve their issues in order to spend more time with happy parents. It's a helpful behavior that could've been praised by Jack and Janet, leading to Tim continuously uptaking a mediator role.

This would morph into a people pleasing attitude that heavily clashed with Tim's independence and lack of authority in his life. This is what enables him to be suited for kicking a depressed, angry Bruce into his healing arc (enables, but doesn't excuse Bruce's reliance on a child nor condone it). Tim would probably insert himself into Dick and Bruce's relationship.

Unlike his parents, Dick and Bruce probably weren't happy an unrelated kid was mediating their relationship or getting in the middle of their arguments. Because of their contant rejection to Tim's efforts, the kid's behavior could morph into a more subtle and subterfuge manner. This comes in handy when Jason and Damian come around (because they for sure would not listen to Tim's advice).

Tim, because he's spent his entire life managing other people's emotions for them, would understand where Damian and Jason are coming from as they hurt him. It is painful, and he may hold some resentment towards them (and a frozen anger), but he's used to yanking back his emotions and shoving them into an overfilled box. That's the easy part.

What's burdensome for him is the family. After realizing the lengths Tim goes to in order to ensure their bonds stay strong, they keep pressuring Tim to release some of his responsibilities. They want the relationships to be more equal.

Tim can't, though. If he lets go of his tight grip on holding the family together, he'll have to face that box of emotions he shoved down. He'll have to work through all the pain, anger, betrayal, grief, and desolation all of his family members gave him. If he accepts that he shouldn't be taking on so much emotional labor, he would have to face that he shouldn't have been subjected to so much abuse (from the Drakes or the Waynes).

Tim can't do that without falling apart.

He can't keep his hold on the family's support beams either.

It's not healthy nor productive for Tim to keep his position. Without releasing the pressure from his back, Tim will collapse and take the Waynes with him. He's too scared to let go, though. Will he survive the break? Will he have a place with the Waynes if he's not holding them up?

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #dc au #dc hcs #thank you for the ask!!!!#tim drake angst #the parentification of tim drake #psychological profiles on characters are fun and i should do them more often

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bunny584 · 19 hours

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For I Have Sinned

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Songs of Solomon 8:6-7.

As newly appointed Duchess-To-Be, you have much to learn. Etiquette, conduct and eventual motherhood are the pillars you are expected to live by. Because who cares about your choosing?

The Chapel, tended to by a mercurial Priest, is the perfect refuge.

…right?

Pairing: Geto x female reader

A/N: The is dedicated to the artist ( @captainsalsaa ) I mean look at our fallen Angel. His tears. His frustration. Dear GOD.

To the artist: I stared at your piece, then heard a specific song on my writing playlist then wrote the entire last scene in one sitting. To date, it’s my favorite scene in my author’s portfolio. I hope I did our fallen Angel justice. Thank you for creating this 🤍

Chapter I

CHAPTER II: Hello, Father.

“Awake early, little dove.”

Warm hands caress your shoulders. A welcome contrast to the chilly nautical dawn. The sun still has a ways to go, but songbirds have begun their wake up call.

“As are you, Arella.”

Your eyes float to your favorite maiden standing above you. No more than a handful of years older, but with a heart for you as if she raised you from birth.

“It’s my duty to tend to you, is it not?”

Soft laughter harmonizes with the nightingales. A quick kiss on your forehead before her warmth disappears off the balcony — undoubtedly to go retrieve a treat of some kind.

She’s not wrong.

Technically it is her duty.

But Arella is your blessing.

Matting and kneading your surroundings to fit your needs. Eager to dampen the growing pains of settling in a new home.

Constant hellos.

Permanent smiles.

Not too wide, like a promiscuous woman. But not too tight, like a cold prude.

Rooms to tour. Hands to shake. Garments to pin and tie and lace around your lungs as if your God-given ribcage was a frivolous extra not needed for life. Not needed to breathe.

Breathe.

Your lids screw shut. Pulling in as much of the balmy, saltwater breeze gliding up the steep rock face along the overhang.

Much like he did.

The Chaplain.

His hair cascading down his back in the same way poets monologue when inspired. His eyes a mural of what the Gods paint when they want to show off.

The way earth acquiesces to his touch as if he is the Creator. The birds choose to perform for him every morning. And the ocean exists to bathe him.

You cannot decide if the sorbet sunsets are created by the Chaplain. Or if the Gods fight over who gets the honor of painting him a new one each evening.

“Sleep still escapes you, precious girl.”

It does, but not for the reason she thinks.

“You worry too much, Arella. I’ll adjust soon.” The tea she brought you is delicious.

The both of you cross back into your quarters. The stagnant, perfumed air suddenly suffocating.

“I would like to go to the chapel garden.”

A quiet declaration that stills your handmaiden in her tracks. Then a small grin blossoms on her beautiful face. Fussing with your bedding. Wiping away evidence of your sleepless night.

“For the flowers that bloom, little dove? Or for the God that tends to them?”

The blood in your veins runs subzero.

“Arella! I am engaged to be marri—“

“Of course you are. But eyesight isn’t a sin.”

Another moment of feigned irritation before you burst into a fit of childish giggles. The both of you no better than school girls, covering your mouths, stifling your laughter.

“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arella gestures to your extravagant dresser across the room.

“In the second drawer you can find a casual garment. Come back with at least one hour to prepare for Mass.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

A hummingbird chaperones your walk to the church estate. Dulcet hums drown out the rattling heartbeat between your ears.

This is harmless.

It is not a sin to take in Earth’s natural candy. To appreciate God’s gift to humanity.

In all of his majestic glory.

Your eyes dart around as if your thoughts are a tangible scroll. Written in ink for the world to see.

Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one around.

Just you. Your fluttering companions (both heart and bird). The waking sun. God above and his plants swaying in the gentle gusts of wind. You’re safe in your mind.

Until he decimates all logical and reasonable train of thought, that is.

You should be angry. Infuriated. That no one adequately prepared you for seeing the demigod for the first time. Even now, you question whether he’s flesh and blood.

Maybe an illusion?

The Lord playing tricks from his throne?

The mirage before you halts your paces. You can’t help but question your level consciousness.

Because this must be a dream.

“Oh, don’t be cruel.”

Words slip out of your mouth, currently ajar. It’s not your place to chastise the One above, but come on.

Your eyes taste the Chaplain for a second time and this course is even more decadent than the first.

There he stands.

A raven waterfall down his broad, muscular back. Half of it tied away from his face. Olive skin so rich the surrounding plants pale in comparison. Russet brown working pants hang loose around his tapered waist, but snug around his thighs. Various tools hooked in the belt loops. Heavy mahogany work boots match the worn leather gardening gloves fitted to his hands.

His hands.

Reaching for thorny vines plaguing his hydrangeas. Even at your distance you could detail each muscle fiber in his arm tense and release with every pull and toss.

Pull and toss.

You would have gotten lost in his rhythmic trance, if it weren’t for the symbol branded in charcoal sprawling his back. The emblem peeks through his thick hair, every now and again.

A spear?

No.

A trident. With waves snaking up its stalk along his spine.

His gravitational pull is overwhelming. Your feet move with more stealth than the King’s Guard.

“Working on the Day of Rest, Father?” Casual, measured.

“Duchess,” Saliva pools in your mouth. His smile teases your ears before he graces you with it.

“I have to start being more careful about my clothing.” A playful glint in his eyes.

“Especially now that I’ve been blessed with a fellow greenskeeper.”

He is a man of God.

And would never insinuate anything impure.

But that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around his words steeped in a baritone potent enough to rumble the ground beneath you.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word that I was coming.”

“This palace belongs to you, Duchess. You are welcome here at any hour.” His hand captures a vine and tosses it into the pile without his eyes ever leaving yours.

You are weak.

And greedy.

The way your gaze drops to his arm. Desperately etching its contours into memory. Seconds, maybe minutes pass before you realize you were gawking. And the Chaplain just let you.

Head cocked to the side. Soft smile ghosting his full lips.

“Would you like to finish the tour of your new playground?”

“Y-yes. Of course, please.” Stumbling over the uneven cobblestone in your voice, you turn away to begin the coordinated stroll. The Priest slides his arms into a linen button up. Lazily fastening two center buttons only.

He informs you of the work that has already been done, what’s left. Where the soil is richest, where it is the most acidic. How the sun hits certain flowers at each hour of the day.

Brilliant.

With complete command over God’s bouquet. The sun following him wherever he steps.

“Did you enjoy your swim today, Father?” Both you and the Priest come to a slow stop. One of his angular eyebrows raised.

“I’m dry, Duchess.” He responds with a low, hypnotic chuckle.

Heat floods your cheeks. How could you be so presumptuous?

“What gave me away?”

Your knees nearly betray you. The razor sharp grin on his face could cut glass.

“You were born for the ocean. Or rather, the ocean was born for you.”

Your statement is greeted with blaring silence.

Lava in his gaze. Singeing every part of your face it touches. His expression is like a foreign language.

“I—I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Clearly I have much to learn about social graces.” A meek apology bubbles out of your lips. Desperate to fill the space between your bodies.

The mercurial man shakes his head slightly. Thawed out from your statement, he reaches over and plucks a stray lilac petal resting on your crown.

“My father used to say the same.” He muses, looking away for the first time.

“Your father! Is he—“

“He was called home some time ago.” This smile is soft. Reminiscent. Polite, but his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Oh Father Geto, I’m so sorry.”

A foot in your mouth is not enough punishment for your indecency. Why would you go prodding like this?

“Don’t be, I’ll see him again. Soon enough.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” The statement draws a stunned gaze from the Chaplain. Eyes dancing between yours.

“Time to prepare for mass, little dove!” Arella’s melodic call tethers you back down from outer space.

You flicker over to her with a ruby dusting over your nose and cheeks. Like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar before supper.

“Happy Sunday, Father!” Arella calls out, cheshire grin on her face deepening your crude blush.

“Indeed, Arella.” He returns the greeting while keeping his eyes on you.

“Send my regards to the Duke.” His voice lowers, for your ears only. With a nearly imperceptible edge to his tone.

“Happy Sunday, Duchess. We have a counseling session scheduled late afternoon, yes?”

A statement of pure black and white fact. And yet it travels down your spine and settles between your legs. Wet heat dampening your thin negligee.

“Yes, Father. Happy Sunday.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Mass was miserable.

Your corset laced tight enough to meld your two lungs and beating heart into one entity. To say the neckline strangled you is putting it mildly. Cold, uninviting pews dug into your skin at every turn.

Wretched.

But the worst of it wasn’t the thin, oxygen-deficient air. Or the shards of glass that slid down your throat with every swallow. Even the jaw pain from tensing your lips in a well-mannered smile for two hours straight was tolerable.

The worst part of it was him.

The Priest mesmerized an entire congregation to an ear-splitting hush.

His first Sunday mass since appointment and nearly everyone in the country and every surrounding province stuffed into the chapel.

So desperate for blessings from Father Geto.

Could you blame them?

His voice danced in and out of the pews listlessly.

Soothing fussy children. Adolescent girls and their mother’s alike — utterly smitten. Adolescent boys experienced their first “I want to be like him” with their fathers sitting right next to them. Husbands glanced feverishly at the women in their lives.

He had to have noticed it. And yet, he floated above it all the entire service.

Above you.

Refusing to gift you those eyes that put Vincent Van Gogh to shame. No matter how much you shifted in your seat and straightened your spine.

The Priest spoke to everyone in the room but you.

Did you read him wrong?

Did you misinterpret your budding friendship?

Does it…should it even matter?

Your irritation is palpable. Innocent bystanders are caught in your friendly fire. Including Arella, who changed you out of that horrid costume. And sweet Noel, who ushered you into the seating area — just outside of the good Father’s office.

You make a mental note to send treats to the tender-hearted alter boy. And to apologize profusely to your handmaiden.

“You are a million miles away, darling.” The sound of your betrothed tows you out of the storm clouds.

You flicker over to the Duke. Emerald green eyes, high cheek bones — handsome in a way that is characteristic of everyone native to your new home.

“I’m right here, Ezra.”

“Are you, sweetheart?” The back of his hand caresses your cheek.

“Mmhm.” You offer your future husband a weak smile and kiss on his cheek. His eyes faltering slightly, undoubtedly hopeful for lips instead.

“Good afternoon, Duke and Duchess Ahriman.”

Father Geto’s velvet greeting encases you both. If Ezra’s arm didn’t guide you to stand you would have been paralyzed in your seat.

“Father Geto, a pleasure. Thank you for seeing us.” Ezra offers a genuine smile and handshake. Buying you a few extra seconds in your mind’s safe haven.

The Chaplain is tight lipped. Professional. He returns the handshake firmly.

“Pleasure is mine.”

Ezra shifts slightly on his feet. Straightening his spine and dropping his shoulders. Your eyes bounce between the Chaplain and your fiancé.

“I must say, Father. You are even more handsome up close. I speak for the men in this country, thank you for taking the vow of celibacy!” The words spill out of the Duke. Unknowingly thinning the air.

The Priest chuckles quietly, dropping his eyes briefly before landing them on you. And it feels like you could double over. Your core temperature skyrockets under his smoldering gaze.

He, the archer. You, the bullseye.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

Ezra laces his fingers in yours, taking the two seats directly in front of the oak desk. A leather bound notebook and pheasant feather pen are neatly arranged — with your names on the first page.

Blue flame rises from your toes to hairline. You might as well have been sitting naked. With how exposed, how vulnerable you feel already.

“What will we be covering first, Father? Something about how wives should obey their husbands, right?” Ezra is light-hearted. Meant to be said in jest.

But he finds himself being the only party in the room laughing.

The Priest rolls the ink pen between his fingers. Allowing a deafening silence to coat the walls. His expression is neutral, but eyes ablaze.

“If the man in question is worthy of submission.” He starts. A low, ominous rumble.

“Uh, yes. Of course.” Ezra responds, shifting in his seat.

But the Chaplain does not stop. Intent on making a point, he leans in. Pen whirling lightning fast between his long, deft fingers. Enough tailwind to launch across the room, if he desired.

“If the man in question would give his life for his wife.” Volcanic eyes linger on you, then back to your fiancé. Ezra’s palm finds your thigh. You gnaw on your inner cheek to avoid flinching away.

“If he would love her like Christ loves all of his creations unconditionally. Unselfishly. Irrationally.”

“Yes, Father. I understand.”

“Only then, should she submit.” His serrated tone could split chromium with ease.

“Of course, of course.” Ezra wisely accepts defeat.

He presses a short kiss on your cheek as an apology that you didn’t ask for, nor do you want.

“Mmm.” A forced acknowledgment of the Duke’s affection through your pinched lips. Barely able to move under the Father’s microscopic gaze.

“Now then,” Father Geto clears the boulders in his throat.

“Tell me about your love.”

The question stuns both you and the Duke. Looking to each other sheepishly because neither of you chose this.

War is young men dying and old men talking. And your life path is no different. Dictated by conversations between the powers that be.

“We’ve only met a week ago, Father.” Your honesty drives both of his eyebrows upward.

“A week ago?”

“But we are hoping you can teach us.” The Duke, overeager and excitable.

“Teach you…?” Father Geto muses. You can’t quite interpret his tone, or minimal response. But your heart flutters all the same.

He is thinking something. And what you would give to get a glance. To be let in.

“Perhaps guide us?” Ezra gives an unintentionally painful squeeze on your thigh. You fail to muffle the tiny whimper.

The Priest’s eyes laser down to where your fiancé’s hand lays. Chest rising and falling dangerously slow.

“Right.”

Your eyes trail upwards as he stands. Closer to God than to you from this point of view.

“Duke, Duchess. You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies.”

His fingers dip the unused pen back into the ink cup. The edges of his leather bound notebook coming together. Seemingly without any notes, but an entire script from this session swirling in his mind.

“My schedule is incorrect. I have another commitment. We will reschedule, yes?” Said with a finality that sends chills crawling down your spine.

The two of you stand. Another handshake between the men. A restrained nod for you.

Just as quickly as you were let in, Father Geto shuts you out of his office and his mind.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Suguru presses his forehead against the shower tile. Warm water raining down his loose mane. Soothing his sore, overworked limbs.

Today was maddening.

He nearly destroyed his vestment the minute that God-forsaken counseling session ended. Seeking refuge, he took to the coast.

And the sea provided anything but peace.

She was angry with him, tonight.

Curt. With unpredictable currents. Rip tides at nearly every turn. She tested his adaptation without mercy.

Just like that night.

“I’m going to stay on board, brother!”

Suguru flickered over to the silver-haired deckhand. An unfamiliar reservation opacifying his nearly translucent, iridescent eyes.

Brother in name, technically.

Their bloodlines were oil and water. He was a high born. Suguru was born unworthy of a beggar’s pity.

But, bloodlines were inconsequential when their souls were instep as one. Both handed to humanity on the same night. During a thunderstorm already inscribed in history books.

‘The Tide of Eternal Requiem.’

It brought complete devastation. Crops destroyed. Families torn apart by tragic accidents inland and at sea.

Then fate struck.

Within the same hour, a voltaic boy, with a halo that put the clouds to shame and diamond eyes that could draw truth from murderers was born into the loving embrace of his parents.

And Suguru was born with a crown so dark that the raging midnight appeared bright.

With eyes as ominous as the sky above.

Gunmetal grey, accented by an eerie violet swarm. Dormant volcanoes, threatening eruption. His birth mother abandoned him in an alley. Driven by fear that he was a bad omen from the Gods.

“Ahhh, Satoru come on. Since when do you shy away from a few waves?”

Suguru teased. Already well into the process of shedding his work gear.

“Zeus is the one rumored to be my father.” His counterpart flashed a knowing smile.

“Poseidon doesn’t watch over me like he does you, Suguru.”

A tsunami couldn’t keep Suguru from his home. Much less a little rain.

They were 3 miles away from the shoreline. Using his God-given ability, Suguru regularly acted as their scout. Performing his own reconnaissance then alerting the incoming ship of safe or turbulent terrain.

“Almost ready to go, son?”

His chosen father came up behind him. Suguru knew there were tears lining his meek eyes before turning to face him.

“Dad.” Suguru sighed, fully disrobed now. Just his muscular frame and a compression suit.

He met his father’s concerned gaze. Always like this during sea storms. Quiet prayers written all over his gentle features.

Despite the worry, he never once attempted to convince his oceanic boy to stay on board. It would have been too cruel.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve traversed angrier swells.”

“Suguru, take care of yourself when I’m gone.”

Elder, worn hands landed on his shoulders. Nearly too high for his reach. Suguru cocked his head to the side.

This goodbye was different.

“Stay on this path. For me. Albeit straight and narrow, there is a wonderful view. This is all for you, son.”

Both men glanced to the Persian gulf. She thrashed against their vessel. Swaying their catch left and right with the intention of taking her creatures back.

“Where is this coming from?” A genuine question from his younger self. Unable to read between the lines.

“Can’t a man just speak from the heart?”

The melancholy smile didn’t meet the wrinkles of time decorating his eyes, but they shared a laugh anyway. Suguru turned away but was promptly drawn back.

“My beautiful boy.”

The fisherman cradled his son’s face. Swimming in the eyes that Suguru once hated. The eyes that convinced his birth mother to abandon him.

“Make it to shore, son.” Suguru rested his head against his father’s neck. Taking a slow, sweet drag of his scent.

Oak.

He always smelled like oak. It was one of Suguru’s favorite things about him.

“If Poseidon calls—“

“I’ll tell him to fuck off.” Mischievous grin plastered on Suguru’s face. His father planted a kiss on his cheek, pushing him towards the end of the boat. As he always did.

Then the Gulf wrapped him in her hostile embrace.

She was irate.

Vicious tidal waves. Rapidly shifting currents. Even her creatures knew to settle below their usual depth. Suguru cursed the fact that he was born with useless, human lungs. Unable to withstand the pressure of the Midnight Zone.

Within minutes his long, lean frame was riding her whims without a shred of control. Tossed around like a rag doll. At her complete mercy — or lack thereof.

This was the first time he struggled to tame his element. A muffled groan bubbled around him. Serrated edges of long coral stalks dug into his back. Stark white foam whirled around him.

Aerated waters.

Suguru could barely maneuver against the waves pummeling his core. Searing heat traveling up his spine. His lungs demanded oxygen.

The boat.

The boat would never make it to shore.

Desperate, furious strokes of his arms meant nothing against her unrelenting grasp. Effectively pinning Suguru to his underwater cross.

A piece of chewed plank wood whizzed by his face.

Followed by another.

Then another.

And Suguru watched his nightmare materialize before his eyes. Mustering his last oxygen reserve, he bellowed against his closed lips.

As if she hadn’t already ignored the cries of his fellow fisherman.

Even still, he screamed so loud his ribcage should have vaporized. But ushering him to a watery grave at that time would have been too merciful.

Suguru blinks out of the harrowing memory. The steeping tea takes at least two layers of epithelium off his esophagus.

Fucking, hell.

He can’t seem to escape pain today.

The swim was excruciating.

Mass was dreadful.

Watching that boy’s hand lay on your lap was grating.

Suguru’s mind drifts back to you. Your thought washes over him like baptizing waters purifying that which is impure.

The gleam in your eyes when you asked about his morning plunge. Barely a week and your pulse on him is already this precise.

Do not covet, Suguru.

He scoffs to himself. Shaking free of your tempting spiral.

This ‘straight and narrow’ path is proving to be more challenging than he let on.

“Would you be proud, Father?”

A whisper of accusation at the end of his inquiry. Suguru would give his arms, his eyes…his life to hear his father’s voice on the other end of his questions, once again.

“Did He tell you?”

Roaring silence. Of course. He knows that. He expects it.

But it angers him all the same.

“Did He come to you in a dream??” Suguru echos louder. More frantic. Punched out in a way he can barely recognize.

“Was the reaper at His left, my heart on the right?!” A weak sob slips through the crack in his baritone.

Yet another pain. But this one is tart and blurring his vision.

“Did you KNOW? D—did you know that day was your last?!” He hisses through a salty stream. Storming out to the garden to escape the walls collapsing in on him.

Suguru’s eyes laser to the remaining thorny vines along his bed of hydrangeas. Without a second thought he wraps them around his bare arms. Staining the plant and his freshly bathed skin with crystalline tears. Once its thorns sufficiently bury into his skin he rips it away from the soil with all his might.

“Bastard. I’m your SON.”

Warm metallic drips down the hills and ridges of his arms. Collecting in the flower bed.

Is he cursing his earthly father?

His Heavenly One?

Or the Deity that brought this grief on him in the first place?

It hurts.

An unforgiving pain.

Much like the thorns in those rapids. Much like the inconceivable burn from his lungs begging for expanse. The time limit, even for him, ran lethally low.

Well exceeding his father’s time limit.

Poseidon stole from him that day.

A callous trade for Suguru’s continued existence.

“Why didn’t you…I—I should’ve been there.”

Guilt eviscerates Suguru’s remaining resolve. Tilting his head up, he lets the salty crystals rain down his cheeks freely.

The full moon cradles his face with the same warmth, the same adoration his father’s hands used to.

Suguru accepts its celestial kisses for a moment before burying his face into his bloodied palms. His damp locks curtain his flushed face. Protecting the world from his unruly sobs.

“I’m here.” Barely audible words escape through desperate grabs for air.

“I made it to shore, Dad.”

E/N: Oh hello, don’t mind me just sobbing. Also, guest appearance by our glorious Blue Eyed Babygirl King™️ If you need me, I will be in witness protection before Gege finds this since it’s a crime to be a S*toru lover.

taglist: @blkkizzat @rotteneyess

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eli0004 · 2 days

Text

Rain, Rain

Sub!Levi x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: not much of a plot, just messing around with Levi in an office while it’s storming outside.

Warnings: hand job, fist-fucking, praise, very slight pain pain play, love confessions, very soft sappy shit

A/N: This was finished way sooner than i thought it would be, i got carried away 😭 also i couldn’t think of a title that wasn’t cringe, please ignore how cliche that one is.

Before everything went to shit, this kind of rain was the biggest inconvenience for the people within the walls. Closing down market stalls, turning the grass all muddy and the sky bleak and grey. You could almost hear it, the grumbling and moaning on the streets about when this dreadful weather would pass. Nowadays, however, no one bats an eye.

You’d never minded the rain, and truthfully, neither did Levi. It’s good weather for reading indoors, or lulling you both to sleep on nights when your mind is particularly active. Often, the two of you find yourselves sitting by the window, watching the storm clouds rolling in and lighting flashing, commentating to one another every now and again when a particularly loud rumble of thunder cracks through the silence. And the rain is especially lovely when it allows you to tangle up together after particularly difficult expeditions, soft touching and gentle kisses to the sound of the droplets drumming on the window panes.

Almost as if thinking of him summoned him to your door, Levi emerges with two steaming cups, placing one on the desk in front of you.

“It’s really coming down out there.” He gestures towards the window, bringing the cup to his nose and softly inhaling the fragrant aroma before taking a sip.

“It is, isn’t it. I wonder how much longer it’ll go on for.” You respond, glancing down at the black tea in front of you. “Have you got a new one?” You ask. He nods once.

“New shipment, i like this one more than the last one i got. It was dreadfully weak.”

You chuckle softly, taking a sip and nodding. “It is stronger, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence before he speaks up again, and you notice how he has subtly inched himself closer to you.

“The rain made me think of you this morning. I wish we could’ve just taken the day off.”

He doesn’t look away from the window, but you know him well enough by now to know that there is subliminal meaning behind his words. Levi has been missing you.

“I’m glad you’re here now, let’s spend some time together, forget about today.” You reach out to beckon him closer. He willfully obeys, placing a hand on the arm of your chair and leaning down to kiss you. But you pull him in closer, and he rests his weight on his knees, placing them on either side of you. Cupping his cheek gently, you brush a thumb over his lip, leaning in once more.

Your lips meet his, ever so softly, and Levi feels like he’s floating. Nimble fingers find their way, trembling slightly, to the roots of your hair as he allows himself to melt into you completely. Your arms snake around the curve of his lower spine, pulling him down so that he is no longer hovering above you, but now sitting firmly on your lap, knees straddling your thighs. At this, he lets out a soft whimper, but it’s nearly inaudible- disappearing where your lips connect.

Levi is no stranger to this, the two of you have engaged in this sort of heavy kissing in the dark many times, but at this moment he feels strangely vulnerable. Desperation is slowly chipping away at his resolve, and suddenly he’s thinking about how it feels- having you touch more of him, peeling off his clothes. He can almost feel the warmth of your palms against his bare skin. It’s in that moment that he realizes he wants all those things. Levi wants you.

You take notice in this shift in energy, if not by the eagerness with which he’s kissing you, needy and open mouthed, then by the hardness of his cock pressing into your stomach, now noticeable through his uniform pants. You don’t push, opting to see just how far he takes things on his own initiative.

You bring one hand up to the back of his head, affectionately tugging at the thick, inky-black strands of hair. His grip on your own hair tightens at this, and he groans softly against your lips, breaking the kiss only for a moment before returning again with three times the desperation. Returning your hand to his waist, you attempt to pull him impossibly closer. Close is not enough.

Levi gasps, breathing air straight from your lungs as the motion of your adjustments sends him slightly forward, his erection pressing deliciously against your lower stomach. The feeling sends his mind reeling, and he experimentally rolls his hips forward again in attempts to replicate the feeling. At the sight of him unraveling before you, so sensitive to every touch, you raise a brow, smirking against his lips.

“You ok, Levi?” You whisper, eyes meeting his in the darkness for only a moment before he casts them downward again. He hesitates, as if he’s about to make a decision that will change the course of his entire life, hands dropping from your hair and down to his lap.

“Yeah, i’m fine. Do you think…tonight would be a good night to…y’know…” he feels his cheeks burn, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on the chair-cushion as he awaits your response. You grin softly, rubbing your palms up and down his thick thighs, softly kneading at them.

“I’m not sure i do, what is it you’re asking for?”

“Tch…you do know, I’m being serious.” He scolds you, rolling his eyes. “I want to.”

Your eyes finally meet his as he absentmindedly leans in a bit closer, and you take notice of newfound vulnerability that shines through them. His gaze is soft and longing- a stark contrast to his usual laser-focused expression- and you bring a hand up to trace a finger, softly over the wrinkles it’s left behind. Over the crease between his brows, the crows feet by his eyes, the dark bags beneath them from his many nights of exhaustion. He leans into your touch, and you speak through the silence.

“I love you.”

Levi is unable to stop the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he crashes them against yours once again before you can comment on it. His kisses are heated, almost aggressive, and for a split second you’re taken aback by it, closing your eyes and letting your grip on his thighs loosen.

His hands find your shoulders, sliding up your neck, cupping your cheeks gently before re-tangling his fingers into your hair. You hum softly against his lips, and he slips his tongue into your mouth just enough to tease. Unsatisfied, you allow one arm to pull him snugly against you again, bringing your other to grip the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and forcing your tongue past his lips. He moans softly at this, exhaling through his nose.

Levi grinds himself forward against your stomach once again, languidly rolling his hips and pressing his dick firmly against your abdomen. By now, your mind is reeling with the thought of having him do this without those god forsaken pants to get in the way. Breaking the kiss, you look down, snapping open the buckle of his belt and nearly tearing the zipper of his pants down. He lifts himself up off your lap to shimmy out of them, tearing off his shirt in the process, as you peel off your own shirt.

Once restrictive fabric is discarded, Levi re-positions himself on top of you, shivering slightly as the air nips at his bare skin. You don’t notice the chill, already busy pressing open mouthed kisses to his bare shoulders, over his collar bone, the skin of his neck. Levi tilts his head back ever so slightly, arching his back as you trail your fingers, feather-light, down his spine. How desperately you want to leave marks there on the column of his throat, not as an act of possession, but to serve as a reminder of this moment for you to look back on tomorrow morning when the two of you must get up and dressed before sunrise. To watch him anxiously adjust his collar, making sure to hide the evidence from any wandering eyes.

Breaking away from him, you drop your gaze down to observe the wet spot seeping through the front of his underwear. You take a minute to admire the product of your ministrations, before bringing a finger to trace the dampness there. He gasps, head falling forward and bangs flopping over his eyes.

“Don’t tease, damn it…please” he breathes, shakily against your ear. “I want you.”

“I can tell.” You chuckle. Deciding against waiting any longer, you hook your index finger into the waistband of his underwear, pulling it forward to let his cock spring up against his lower belly, smearing that slick wetness below his navel, before letting go and watching it snap against his length like a rubber band. He jumps, surprised at the sting. “Hah…ouch!”

“I want these off too.”

He lifts once again to kick off the final layer, leaving him fully exposed, returning to you to present himself at your mercy. His tongue is poking through his lips as he watches you curiously, as if to try and predict your next course of action.

You place a hand on his hip, smoothing a thumb over the bone and gazing up at him lovingly. Your other hand finds its way to his stomach, open palm and fingers splayed, running it all the way up to his chest and up to his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you.

“You’re so beautiful, every inch of you, I’m enamored by it all. You know that?” He rolls his eyes, and you wrap your other hand around the base of his cock, squeezing slightly.

“Hnn..ah!” He chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You know that, Levi?” He nods, frantically, and you’re unsure if he even remembers what you’re asking, his body is melting into you, hunching forward. Chuckling softly, you begin to slowly slide your hand up and down, languidly. Thumb circling his tip every so often, spreading the pre-cum down his shaft.

Levi lets his head fall against your shoulder, huffing against your neck, his rib cage expanding and contracting with every breath. You trace over his chest, over his peaked nipple, pinching and rolling it gently between your thumb and forefinger as you continue to stroke him off, and his breath catches in his throat.

“F-fuck~” he whimpers out, jaw slackening as you speed up your pace and tighten your grip. His hips lurch forward and his hands are searching for something to hold onto, settling on gripping the back of your chair with white knuckles, snaking his other arm around your neck and pulling you closer to him, almost in a hug. You can feel his abdominal muscles beginning to tense, and you slow your pace, but Levi isn’t willing to wait any longer. His hand falls from the back of your chair to grab onto your wrist.

Holding it steady, he begins thrusting his hips forward, fucking your hand like it’s sheer instinct. Any other time, you’d stop him, but seeing him so fucked out and desperately humping into your closed fist is what prevents you from doing so. This isn’t something you see often.

Levi is dangerously close, moaning against your ear long and drawn out. Holding him close, you press your mouth against his ear and whisper “good boy, so good. You need to cum? Let go for me, ok?”

His eyes roll back, lids fluttering closed as he freezes, holding his breath for a second as his hips stutter “ah-ah oh god, fuck, i love you, i love you, i love you” he rasps out, gushing thick, creamy ropes over your fist, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as it tears through him. You smile softly at his confession and it’s timing, allowing him to guide your fist over his length to milk himself of any last drops.

And as his breathing slowly returns to normal, his tired body slumps against your own. The rain outside has begun to die down, now only a soft drizzle. You hold him there, as long as he needs, tracing shapes over the skin of his bare back. In the end though, it’s Levi who breaks the silence, whispering against your skin

“let’s get to bed, we can…uh…spend more time together there.”

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot headcanons #aot smut #aot x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #sub!levi #sub!levi ackerman #subby levi #snk levi #snk #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman smut

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adventuringblind · 2 days

Text

Chin Up, Princess (2k words)

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Ghoulverse Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Jos oversteps and causes a whole lot of hurt for Max and his mate, he takes things into his own hands and ends up resorting to extreme measures in order to save his lover. (Background Landoscar, Charlos, and Sewis)

Warnings: Mind control, talks of eating people and mentions of gore but nothing explicit, ghoul on ghoul violence, burning of a character, major character death (not a good guy tho), ED but like... also not an ED, soulbonds

Notes: Ironically the most tame ghoulverse fic I've done thus far. Thank you to🏍️for the amazing idea!!

Side Note: Feed my praise kink please?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It’s raining again. The kind of rain Monaco doesn’t see often. The torrential downpour that keeps everyone hidden away inside to keep warm.

She watches the water droplets race down the window, wondering which one will hit the edge first. It’s not productive, but she needs something to distract her from the ache in her bones. The hunger pains have gotten progressively worse over the last three weeks. Still, she’s finding ways to cope. She has to manage; the pain is what’s keeping her sane.

It’s nice being home and hidden behind the water covered window. It means she’s free to drop the human look. All horns and tail, long tongue and sharp teeth, dark eyes and pointed ears. It’s natural - or it used to be.

It doesn’t quite feel like her anymore. Like somehow everything that had once been a part of her is now irritating. Her horns are heavy and her tail refuses to be anywhere but the ground. All because his words sit in her head and bounce around the cavity in her chest.

He changed her.

~~~♡~~~

A month ago, she ran into Jos in the paddock. Even though she doesn’t like the guy, he’s still technically her king - and Max’s dad - so her father in law in a way. Max had mated with her (a heavenly feeling) but had done so without the consent of his father.

Jos doesn’t like her one bit. Which she doesn’t care about. If Max is the prince of the demons and set to take up leadership at some point, that makes her a princess. They both dislike each other but in the essence of keeping things civil, she makes it work.

“I didn’t expect to see you here today!” She nodded her head to show respect. Opting for that instead of bowing to this man in broad daylight.

“I wish I hadn’t seen you at all!” Well - fuck you too - she supposes. She’d fallen into step beside him as they made their way to the Redbull garage.

She nearly crashes into him when he stops abruptly. He grabs hold of her bicep and drags her down some alleyway between buildings. She goes with compliance, hell only knows what this man can and will do to her.

Her back hits the wall with a disorienting force. “You’re not enough for us.”

“I think you mean for you.”

Jos hisses close enough to her face that she can feel his saliva hitting her. “The council decided you’re not one of us-'' He grabs her chin and she watches as his eyes fade to that deep dark color that usually means something bad is about to happen.

“You will not eat. You are not one of us. Am I clear?”

She snaps at him. Her attempt at fighting his hold is futile. Not when the damn demon king is trying to hypnotize her. “No!”

He clamps a hand over her mouth and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. The open flame hovers just above the healed over scar on her clavicle. She shakes, desperate to get away from the heat. “You will not eat. You are not a ghoul. You are not one of us.”

It’s a hypnotic tone that seeps through her ears and floods her veins. The heat of the flame no longer her one weakness as her mind submits itself to the will of her king.

~~~♡~~~

Her jaw snapped shut. Her vocal chords refused to work. Her throat constricts around liquids. Her teeth become glued to each other each time she tries to bite down into something of nutrients.

A month of this torture and she can feel herself getting progressively more ravenous. Slowly they’ve exhausted all of their options. No matter how desperately she tries, she can’t get any substance into her.

Max’s reflection appears in the window. A frown etched upon lips. It doesn’t suit him; Max was made to smile. She likes being the one to cause it. These days it feels like all he’s doing is trying to ease her slow and painful death.

He sits opposite of her and heaves out a gust of warm air on the window. His pointer finger paints a simple picture of a stick figure. It’s - objectively - a terrible drawing, but it serves its purpose and makes her laugh.

“I’m scared, Max.”

“I know, schat.”

They continue to stare out the window. The bond doing the talking for them, passing their emotions back and forth. He can feel her pain and she can feel his inner rage.

Humans don’t understand. Maybe they never will. They fear those who are different. Think this way and do this thing or you're a monster. Certainly not all of them. Lando and Charles are prime examples of this. Still - surviving amongst them gets harder each day.

“I know what you want to do.” She turns towards him. Unbidden in the comfort of their own home. His tail flicks in uncertainty. A habit he picked up from Sebastian. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

“It’s inevitable. Just earlier than planned.” He won’t meet her gaze. “I can’t watch you suffer when I can stop it.”

“You have always been the chivalrous type.”

Max slides closer to her. His thumb comes to the underside of her chin and pushes it upward. Her eyes have nowhere else to go, forced to get lost in his. A never-ending sea of endless dark that she’d willingly drown in.

“Chin up, love. There is going to be a crown on your head soon. I’d hate to see it hit the ground.”

~~~♡~~~

She hates not being able to go inside. She understands why she can’t though. She already has the weight of one hypnosis spell weighing her down; she’s more susceptible to another.

Still, waiting is nerve wracking. The sound of familiar roars fill her ears. Occasionally wincing when she feels Max’s pain. Mild compared to what it is for him.

Lando and Charles are sitting on the ground with her. Their mates are inside with Max, along with Lewis and Sebastian. She attempts to hold close to the bonds of their tribe. They’ve been planning this for the last couple of weeks. Every hole is plastered with flexi tape.

“Relax, chéri. They are fine.”

She won’t open her mouth to mutter a thanks. Not when she’s already salivating and can smell exactly where their pulse points are. Not when she can hear the steady rhythm of their hearts.

No, she can’t eat, but she’d also rather not risk it.

“Do we have to bow to you after this whole ordeal is over?” Lando looks at her with a curious expression. “Cause like - Oscar doesn’t bend like that.”

Both her and Charles gape and the odd statement. Lando looks like he’s just stated the weather on an average Monday morning.

“Lando, are you sure it’s not you who doesn’t bend like that?”

“I think I know how I can bend mate! How do you think we broke the table-“

Charles grimaces, his nose scrunching up and cheeks turning red. “Bleh! I don’t need to know how Oscar bends you.”

“You asked!”

“And now I regret it…”

Another roar bellows into the night sky. It’s loud and painful. She looks to the boys beside her for confirmation that it’s not Oscar or Carlos. They nod at her, leaving only three options.

She bolts inside.

The roars turn to whines. The fire rages over the body of Jos Verstappen. Max has sunk to his knees, the sunset hues of the flames reflect in his eyes and illuminate the tear tracks on his cheeks.

She falls beside him. Panicked hands search for any possible wounds; any burns in need of immediate attention. Max is crying as she does so, but he’s smiling at the same time. There are a million emotions running through the room. The large flames a mercy to the now deceased king.

A fallen king lay before them. His body burned to ashes. They watch as he is devoured by the fire. The silence is deafening. The only noise being the roar of the flames. An irony that doesn’t go unnoticed. To feel serene with the one thing that would surely kill her if the starvation doesn’t first.

Max is the first to approach the pile of ashes on the ground. He creeps up to it like they might reanimate. Like they might take back what they once had and reestablish their hold on her mind with no chance at her escape.

Sebastian meets Max in the middle. He scoops handfuls of the ash and decorates Max’s skin. The Dutch looks miserable when Sebastian dumps a handful into Max’s own cupped hands.

“Do I have too?”

“Do you want your fathers powers?”

He groans, but doesn’t wait any longer. He tries to be serious, but there is an element of humor here despite the situation.

“Does this mean Max is a cannibal now?!” She supposes Lando is trying to whisper, but the building they are in echoes. He chokes when he hears it.

“Lando! I am trying to eat my father!”

“So you are a cannibal!”

Oscar slaps a hand over his mate's mouth. Briefly, a look of disgust flashes across his face. “If you really think licking me will work, you are mistaken.” Muffled sounds from underneath Oscar’s hand escape, but nobody understands.

Max is finally able to choke down the ashes of his father. Certainly not the most conventional of coronations, but she can’t picture it any other way.

“Never thought I’d see the day where we were dropping to our knees for this guy.” Carlos chuckles from somewhere beside her as they close in on the new king.

Not a prince anymore - a king.

It suits him more, she thinks. Standing tall in front of his tribe, still laughing at Lando and Oscar and their odd positioning. At Carlos and his playful pride as he kneels. He exchanges a smile with Charles after years of rivalry now comes a shared respect. He turns endearingly to Sebastian and Lewis looking at him like proud parents.

Then to her. She’s on the ground, her knees bruised already. Max pulls her up into his arms. He brings his hands to her jaw and once again she drifts into the calm of his endless eyes.

Soft fingers massage her jaw. The one that aches with a desperate need for something she hasn’t had in so long. He’s gentle with her, like an antique porcelain doll that might break if he applies too much pressure.

“You are worthy of every good thing. You are one of us, just as you always have been and you are deserving of your life.”

The cement that had been fire in her veins vanishes as he speaks. Max keeps talking, but she’s too lost in the relief from these heavy feelings - the euphoria of knowing she belongs again. The cavern of her chest is beating with words of comfort.

Her horns don’t feel like extra weights and her tail finds Max’s with immediate ease. They intertwine like they had before.

“You are here and loved. You have a place with us.” He tilts her chin upward like he’s done since they mated. “Chin up, your highness, you’re a queen now.”

~~~♡~~~

Sated.

Her body aches from a full belly instead of the hunger pains. As does the rest of their tribe, she presumes.

Max keeps getting phone calls… and he keeps ignoring them. Instead opting to keep his attention focussed on his tribe. His love for them - for her - is radiating through his every move.

“I think King Max sounds good on you.” She flashes her teeth at him. The others are either chatting, or if you’re Oscar then you’re using Lando as a blanket and sleeping. They are paying no attention to them.

“You think? I’d always resented it.”

“You’re going to change things, Max. That’s not something to resent.” They hook tails again, a comfort she’d missed dearly. “Plus, you’re stuck with me now since you saved my life. I’m going to be the most demanding queen.” She waves her hand around for dramatic flair.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“First I’m going to demand that you cuddle me - and I’ll figure out the rest later!”

“As you wish, your highness.”

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