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scuderiahoney · 5 months

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Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Pt I

Strawberry Wine Series

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn’t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schatje, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max Verstappen #fanfic #max verstappen fluff #fluff #honeywrites #mv1 #strawberry wine verse

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ecoterrorist-katara · 2 months

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Zutara, romance novels, and the female gaze

Okay so I’ve been thinking about the female gaze a LOT so I checked out a subreddit about romance novels, despite never having read one. I came across this meme (which was initially a Tumblr post and then got posted to Instagram and then to Reddit and I’m now bringing back to Tumblr — Internet telephone, pls never change):

And…what is The Southern Raiders, if not a platonic grovel? Katara’s pain is central to the episode. It’s central to Zuko. Zuko asks Katara what he can do to make up for his betrayal; she demands the impossible. He reads between the lines, cockblocks her brother to get the necessary information, and then waits outside her door overnight (which he also did for Iroh, the one person we know for sure he loves). He basically makes himself a receptacle for her rage, and he holds space for her by coming with her on her revenge quest and carrying their bags and not saying a damn thing about what she should and should not do beyond like…asking her to rest. And obviously the grovel works! She forgives him and then they’re thick as thieves, bantering and fighting and saving each other’s lives, etc.

On a different note, I’ve been told that enemies to lovers is one of the biggest tropes in romance novels, similar to YA lit and fanfic. Here’s something else I found in the romance novel discourse:

And…yeah. In TSR, Katara really does show Zuko her worst self, because she doesn’t feel the need to perform for him. She doesn’t feel the need to perform moral perfection OR cold blooded vengeance. She bloodbends in front of him and he just goes with it. She doesn’t kill Yon Rha and he just goes with it. He doesn’t treat her any differently afterwards. Maybe they talk about it off screen, but I kind of like the idea that they don’t, because Katara doesn’t need to explain anything. And it’s so interesting, because some people in the ATLA fandom have a totally different read on TSR. They think Zuko was encouraging Katara to get revenge (by what, keeping his mouth shut?), and that Aang is the one who acts as her moral compass. I believe that either Bryan or Mike said in the DVD commentary that Aang is the angel on her shoulder the entire time. And this interpretation does make sense if you see it from the male gaze, where Katara as an object of affection is acting in an angry, irrational, threatening way. But if you see it from the female gaze, you recognize that actually it’s probably the most emotionally taxing experience Katara has to go through, and she doesn’t owe it to be nice or perfect to anybody. Katara’s formative trauma literally comes to a head, and she has to make a decision — no, a discovery — about who she is in relation to the tragedy that defines her life and even her identity (as a waterbender, as a parentified child who becomes the mom friend, as a genocide victim), and she’s accompanied by someone who trusts her judgement and validates her feelings.

I’m not saying TSR is explicitly romantically coded, but when it conforms so well to romance novel tropes…is it any wonder that so many people thought “yes this is her man?” And then he takes lightning in the heart for her and reaches for her when he’s literally dying, I will never be normal about that either

#Zutara #Katara #Zuko #the southern raiders #Pro zutara #anti Bryke #I guess #I swear I’m not a Bryke anti but I feel like they just don’t get #The female gaze #and the fact that Zutara is so female gaze is kind of an accident and I find that fascinating #atla fandom critical #The southern raiders turned me into a Zutara shipper #one ep away from the finale #Zutara meta #My meta

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kissatoru · 8 months

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★ ₊˚ JUST ONE MORE

content. sub!armin, soft dom!reader, gn!reader, handjob, edging, overstimulation, praise kink, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, aftercare, pet names (baby, love)

wc. 1.5k

you’re sitting in armin’s lap, thighs around his hips and a hand cradling his face. your fingers pet his hair absentmindedly while your lips dance along his, soft and tender yet passionate, full of stolen breaths and longing.

...but your other hand is not so gentle with how it’s been edging him for an hour, sliding up and down his wet length at a pace that has him squirming helplessly. some of his noises escape through the flickers of space between your moving lips and leave a tingling sensation in their wake. you chase that feeling with fervour, fluctuating between flicking your wrist faster and slowing down to focus on his sensitive tip. his thighs writhe and his breaths gradually fan harder and quicker against your face. his hands scramble in search of purchase, jumping from the sheets to your thighs to where your fingers still cup his cheek.

your sensual kissing has long since turned feverish, mixing with bites and harsher presses of swollen lips. armin pulls away to whisper, “close, close, close,” against your mouth, hushed but desperate.

“don’t cum until i tell you,” you remind him and he can only manage a small nod before his head is flopping back against the pillows. his jaw goes slack, making way for whimpers and moans that spur you on. his hands return to the bedding, twisting and tugging at fistfuls of fabric. he’s so close, so so close. he’s not sure if he’ll be able to hold on long enough to do as he’s been told.

as if reading his mind, you lower your other hand and rub his thigh. “you’re doing so well, just a little longer,” you assure, but each second feels like an eternity and ‘a little longer’ turns into too long and just as he’s about to cum without permission, you say, “go ahead, baby, let go. you’ve earned it.”

armin’s mouth opens up into a loud whine that blurs into weak little ‘thank you’s. spurts of white spill over his stomach, some even reaching his chest. your soaked fist moves from tip to base, slowing down with every drop of cum that follows. his chest rises and falls and his hot puffy breaths beat against your skin as he sinks down from his high.

“you– you can stop now,” armin breathes, his voice raw and quiet and trusting as he waits for you to stop, but your hand only continues to pump his cock, quickening motions that overheat his already hot skin. “ngh, wait! why are you still–”

“shh, shh.” you push aside some hair that’s fallen in his eyes as he moans brokenly. “it’s okay. doesn’t it feel nice?”

doesn’t it? he can’t decide. “i don’t– fuck, it’s so much– i, i can’t–” armin tries to plead but he’s interrupted by another wanton moan, face growing hotter by the minute from the humiliation of not being able to speak. his thighs writhe in confusion at the overwhelming sensation. it sends signals through his nerves, telling him to escape, but he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your tight grip, as if searching for more. the pain burns, but the pleasure is scorching in comparison. he feels like an exposed nerve; he wants to get away, he wants to keep going. his abdomen clenches and unclenches and his toes curl at the changing urges. it feels so good and hurts so bad; pure torture and bliss and completely inescapable. it keeps going with seemingly no direction or ending until he senses the edge of his climax; a coil that twists and tightens in his core.

of course, you notice this immediately, already familiar with his tells. “are you close, ‘min?” you murmur.

unable to trust his voice, armin lets out a pathetic hum. he swallows and tries to catch his breath, focusing on that feeling building up in him, that coil. it curls tighter, tighter, then impossibly tighter, until it finally snaps. he squirts creamy white ropes all over himself and his eyes squeeze shut as the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through him.

but instead of passing, the stimulation intensifies, and that’s when he realises you still haven’t stopped.

armin’s mouth opens and closes, unable to form sound as his entire body begins to shake. tears well up in his eyes and a sob finally bubbles up from his throat. his hands are frenzied, clawing at your clothes and limbs as if in search of something. he babbles, voice cracking over syllables as he chokes out frantic pleas. he doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for at this point. to stop? to keep going? it’s like he has no control over his body or what he’s saying.

“i know, i know,” you assure softly, “but i want you to cum again for me, love. you can do it, i know you can.”

armin locks his arms around your neck and pulls you closer to him. “c–can’t– hurts... so good,” he whimpers into your ear as he digs his nails into your back and nuzzles his sweaty forehead into your neck. his heart is pounding. his lungs are trembling. his thighs try to clamp shut, but your weight keeps them pinned. before he knows it, he’s cumming, just like you said he could, and much quicker than the previous two times, but he can’t even register the latter because instead of relenting, instead of having mercy, instead of giving him at least a small break between the overwhelming touches and drawn-out orgasms, you just keep fucking going. armin practically wails and you’re quick to comfort him, whispering praises and bringing him out of your neck to wipe away his tears and kiss the reddened apples of his cheeks.

god, you think as you lean back to look at him, he’s so pretty when he cries, eyes shining like ocean water; peering up at you from under sandy blond eyelashes, all clumped together with tears; nose and cheeks tinted pink. on top of that, his lips are kissed and bitten red, complimenting his pale skin, which glitters with sweat. oh, how you’d love to frame a picture of him like this; not even for sexual reasons, you just adore it when armin is so vulnerable and yours. you wish it could last forever, but you’re also wary of the fact you’re about to make him cum for the fourth time and decide you’ll need to stop soon.

you bring your other hand to massage his sticky tip between your fingers while the previous continues to glide up and down his shaft, producing loud and embarrassing squelching sounds. armin keens and instinctually glances down between your bellies; his tip is a deep red, glistening with cum and so swollen that it looks like it hurts and that fact only makes it hurt more. you’re squeezing and kneading the head of his cock with your palm, fast and unfaltering, while your other hand trails down to his balls and rubs the delicate skin there. his orgasm feels as though it’s ripped from him as he cums again, splattering over your hand and his belly. you consider stopping, but after slowing down for a second, a second of rest and mercy, you go back to your previous motions and armin is back to choking on whimpers and crying into your shoulder. his brain has gone fuzzy by now; numb with the intensity of it all.

“just one more time, okay?” you pet his hair while syncing your hand with the sloppy thrusts of his hips. “just one more for me, baby. i know you can do it.”

armin nods, chasing his climax despite his exhaustion and sensitivity. the pain melts into white-hot euphoria that rises higher and higher. he drags his nails up, down and across your shoulder blades, almost scared of his oncoming orgasm. your wrist aches and the scratches on your back sting, but you persist, pumping the top half of his cock, squeezing harder on every upward twist and flicking the pad of your thumb over his weeping slit.

no more than a second later, armin is cumming, but nothing comes out of his poor cock, just a few pitiful drops of residual cum, and the sight of it has him crying. you help him ride out his fifth high while he clings to you even harder, panting and whimpering into your ear. you mutter praises to him as his tense body slowly grows limp and slips off of you. you catch him before he can fall against the bed and carefully lay him down. the warmth of your body leaving has him whining, but you peck him on the temple and promise you’ll be back soon.

when you return with a damp cloth and a glass of water, you find armin half-asleep. you smile fondly and admire the way his skin glows in the low light before making your way over. you set aside the glass and tentatively wipe his skin clean. once you finish, you caress his head, trying to get his attention. “hey, sit up for me, love,” you say, and with some delay, he does. you bring the glass to his lips and help him drink until you’re sure he’s had enough. then you pull the sheets over him and let him lay back down.

“thank you,” armin mumbles. you just smile and kiss his shoulder before sliding in beside him. he sighs into your chest and holds you as close as possible. you pet his hair and the action helps the both of you eventually fall asleep.

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months

Text

[2:17 pm]

This was supposed to be a quick trip. You needed some new pillows, a new plant, and Mark was really just along for the ride. He was in it for some Swedish meatballs, a slide of chocolate cake, and fruit flavored sparkling water. But somewhere in the time from the entrance to about the eighth showroom, you forgot about what you needed.

"I think this one is nice, but the paint on the walls makes the room feel too small," Mark hummed.

"Since when are you an interior decorator?" You asked with your arms crossed while you surveyed the room.

Mark laughed and you both moved onto the next showroom, a kitchen.

"This is nice! I like this island here and the gas stove," Mark mumbled to himself. He walked around the space, dragging his hands over the surfaces while he looked at the lighting fixtures.

He walked over to the stove and lifted the lid from the pot. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the wall and turned to you with a bright smile, "Oh good! You're finally home, honey. I was just starting on dinner. How does spaghetti sound?"

Despite the nagging voice in the back of your head telling you this was supposed to be a 'quick trip,' you played along. You walked over to him and pecked his cheek, "it smelled delicious. I had such a long day. It feels great to be off my feet."

You slumped into a stool at the island. Mark pulled open cabinets and pretended to shake things into the pot, "long day at the office?"

"The longest! Stupid Becky from HR was such a pain today. Honestly, she never shuts up! But anyway, how was your day, babe?"

Mark giggled, turning to you while holding the pot with both hands, "Not as long as yours, but long enough that I don't want to dirty any bowls. Let's eat."

You both pretended to twirl your forks in the pot, slurping up noodles and giggling at each other each time you made eye contact.

"It's the last noodle," you said in an amazed voice.

"Lady and the Tramp it!" Mark pretended to slurp up the noodle with puckered lips while you did the same.

You slowly moved toward each other until your lips finally touched. The kiss was short and sweet, a kiss that quickly turned to you both laughing with your foreheads pressed together and the tips of your noses touching.

"Thanks for making dinner," you smiled brightly.

Mark shrugged, "it was nothing fancy, anything to make you happy, honey." A loud grumble sounded from his stomach, "Hey my pretend spaghetti was good, but now I need some real food."

"I need my pillows first!" You exclaimed.

You both left the kitchen, hand in hand. "I actually really liked that island, maybe we could remodel the kitchen," Mark told you while you made your way over to the bedding area.

"Maybe we can just try a rolling island cart to see if we like it," you grabbed two pillows and put them under your arm, "time for real food?"

"Please, I need some lingonberry soda!" Mark cheered.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee timestamps

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levitiquee · 6 months

Text

𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭

𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵e𝘭𝘭

Levi let out a sigh of relief the moment your silhouette appeared through the shadows, tensed shoulders relaxing. He turned his head, all focus shifting instantly to you.

“You.” He exhaled, a hint of exasperation in his tone, indicating that the little time spent without your absence had not been very fun. “Where have you been?”

“Hi. Went to scout.” You answered, reaching the little campfire to stand beside Levi. All your friends sat circling it. Levi’s subtle, not very subtle eagerness at your arrival seemed to have triggered something, making the already guffawing crowd of people laugh even harder. Concluded with Levi’s sour face, it wasn’t very hard to guess what the subject of amusement must have been.

“Oh, are we bullying Levi again?” You beamed, nudging Levi’s leg with your foot, signaling him to give you space. “Scoot over. I want to join too.”

Levi shot a glare, but shifted to let you sit beside him. As another wave of laugher sparked through your friends, you plopped down on the grass, folding your legs. It was a chilly night, and everyone wanted to stay near the fire, therefore, the circle was so tightly formed around the fire, you could barely squeeze yourself between Levi and Nifa.

“Sit on my lap, why don’t you?” Levi grumbled, scowling and squirming a little at the close contact.

“What? It’s cold. And you’re warm.” You said as you sat down. “What are you so pissy for anyways?” You pressed yourself tighter, curling yourself up against him, uncaring of the poisonous gaze. You’ve learnt a long ago, half of Levi's words didn’t mean shit, that if he actually was uncomfortable, you wouldn’t even be here right now, he would’ve broken a bone or two. Levi’s personal space wasn’t something he let anyone come through, but you’ve been an exception for that for a long time.

And he was warm. A warmth that surprisingly only the cold, cold man was capable of.

And as always, the low protest died soon and he adjusted to let you lean against him.

“Hange.” He muttered, answering your previous question. “They’re trying to convince people to marry me.”

“Wonderful.” You grinned, “I volunteer.”

“I hate you.”

Cue for a very drunk Hange cracking up again, leading the others to join in. Even Erwin, ever regal and solemn, couldn’t seem to be able to hold the small smile from forming. With Hange’s contagious laughter and Levi’s scowl, it was impossible to.

“Oh why’d you let Hange drink again?” You laughed, watching them as Moblit struggled, trying to pry the bottle out of the section commander's grasp. “They're gonna be terrible to deal with tomorrow.”

“They insisted it was one sip.” Erwin said solemnly.

“Well, that sure seems like one sip.”

“But seriously though,” Nanaba piped in, shoulders still shaking with the waves of laughter. “Levi’s got all that spunk, but no bitches.”

“Stubborn shortie-” Hange's voice was cut of as they hiccupped

“Shut up. All of you. Please.” Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “

“Point stands. In your mid-thirties, Levi. How long are you going to wait?”

“Why,” He huffed. “Are you people so insistent on analyzing my personal life every damn time? Do you not have anything better to do?”

“Only well wishers.” She gave him a smug smile. “That’s what friends do, they care for each other.”

“No. You just want to give me shit.”

“Well, that too.” She shrugged.

“Iffff—if anything,” Hange stumbled in, rubbing their eyes. She glanced at you pointedly. “You could at least date her. That’d be nice.”

“So I keep telling him.” You feigned a disappointed sigh.

“Don’t fucking egg them on.” He hissed, face heating up at the suggestion. How could they even think it’d work out? He thinks, against the thoughts tugging. Ridiculous. They were ridiculous. You were just as ridiculous. So what does he do with this ridiculous fucking feelin–

“Oh but look,” Hange leaned forward, squinting to watch the two of you, their glasses reflecting off the fire and casting shadows on their face. “ Do mine eyes deceive me or is Ackerman over there blushing?”

“No.” The denial was quick. A little too quick.

“I confirm.” Nanaba smirked. Miche grunted.

“No.”

“Oh, Levi.” Erwin’s eyes glimmered amusement.

“I will hit you. Don’t even go there.”

The roar of laughter only grew louder.

And the night rolled on, the nonsense bickerings and banters continued. Friendly faces and friendly voices, joking and teasing and laughing without a care in the world. Bottles clinked, the firelight glinting on them. At one point, you and Hange started singing some stupid song you’ve heard in the fair, rocking back and forth with the music. And you weren’t certain, but you could swear there was a hint of melody even in the wind blowing by. And it was cold, but with Levi beside you, you were okay. But that was okay, it was okay. More than okay, really. The happiness was overwhelming.

“You know,” Hange called out suddenly. They had taken to fully sprawl out on the grass. They’d been quiet a while, and you had thought they must’ve passed out, but appears not.

Everyone turned to look at them.

“This is nice isn’t it?” They mumbled, blinking up to the sky. “I mean, sure, we might die tomorrow, but this is nice. I wouldn’t really mind dying.”

“You know, what would’ve been nice, Hange?” Nanaba said, watching Hange. And despite the words itself, she was smiling. “To not mention death.”

“I know but,” Hange sat up, grinning. “This is not too bad as a last night of your life right? I wouldn’t mind.”

And for a second, no one spoke. Perhaps, it was because all were drunk more or less but that hit harder in that moment. Unsaid words were spoken in silence, the wind carrying the oaths away. And even Levi’s eyes had softened.

Only Hange could say words like that with that face, you thought. You weren’t sad, not really. Because Hange was right. Being a scout meant learning to appreciate every breath you can take, and nights like this were as good as they’d come.

“Aww Hange.” You sighed, grinning back. “Cheesy much? You’re making Levi all squirmy.”

“No, I am not—” Levi’s protests were buried as the group jumped in yet again another session of Levi leg-pulling.

But despite it all, Levi thought.

Pissheads, all of them were. But nevertheless.

He watched you with the corner of his eyes, watching you as you laughed your head off to something Eld said, shoulders shaking, the firelight making your eyes glitter. And you were so close, so close, he could hardly breathe. And the urge to wrap an arm around you, to pull you closer. To feel you against him.Would that be so wrong of him? If he leaned close, would you pull away? But it’s okay, he thinks.

Hange was right.

It’s okay if he dies tomorrow. He wouldn’t really mind.

He didn’t really mind right now either.

He finds it strange that he didn’t really mind it. Any of it.

He didn’t mind Hange or Nanaba or any of them.

He didn’t mind your stupid little jokes, clearly made with the intention to piss him off. He didn’t really mind that you were so close. He didn’t mind that your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind a lot of things that he thinks he would’ve minded if it was anyone else but you.

He doesn’t really know how it works. He doesn’t like thinking about the strange little feelings in his heart that tugged everytime you smiled, or the way his stomach tightened whenever you flirted with him so casually.

And maybe one day he’ll tell you. Maybe he won’t

Does it matter? Is it not enough to only have you alive and close?

He’s here now. With everyone and with you.

He’s home.

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

Note

Remmy and sensitive!reader who misheard him talking with James and Sirius about something/someone and mistakes it as them talking bad about them. Reader avoiding Remmy for days, avoiding his touch and barely talking to him until he has enough and confronts reader who just breaks down into tears instantly

“No I know mate! It’s so fucking annoying!” You hear the words tumble out of Remus’ mouth with full frustration and freeze in the doorway.

He could be talking about anyone. Right?

James pipes up next, “There’s no way they don’t know they’re fucking annoying.”

Maybe it is you.

“Doesn’t seem like it. They’re just always there. Sometimes some breathing room would be nice.”

You’re convinced now by Remus’ words that it’s you they’re talking about and the frog in your throat swells and tightens your vocal cords.

Silently, you wipe the tears running down your cheeks and make your way to the bathroom.

Remus knows you’re home ten minutes after his phone call when he smells your peach body wash wafting through the bedroom.

“Hi dovey,” his words saccharine as he holds his arms open to you.

“Hi,” you don’t walk into his arms, instead brushing the curve of his shoulder as you go to your closet for your pyjamas.

“Something wrong?” He leans back on his palms, worrying his bottom lip as he watches you change in the closet.

You wonder for a moment how he could’ve been so cruel and now pretend like he wasn’t just complaining to James about how much you’re around him.

“Uh uh,” Remus’ alarms are going off and he stands up, walking over to you now that you’re dressed.

“Dove,” he murmurs, hands holding your thighs. “Are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”

Has he done something wrong? The nerve of him- and still you can’t find it in yourself to do much else than tear up.

“No,” your breathing is quickly becoming labored and Remus worries that you might make yourself faint.

“Talk to me, baby.” It’s the baby that does you in, all soft and honeyed and sugary sweet when his words earlier had been so harsh and jagged.

“You told James that it was annoying that I’m always in your space.”

“What?” His heart stops, mind whirring at the impossibility of your words.

Sniffling you carry on, “I heard you when I came in-“

“Baby, no-“ you cut him off.

“It’s okay to want your own space, sorry for crowding you before.”

God Remus could cry at how small you sound.

“We weren’t talking about you baby, you have to believe that.” His massive hands are cupping your cheeks robe, keeping your eyes level with his.

“You don’t have to lie, Rem,” Your tears are still tumbling down, nose running while you hold your breath. You have a strange feeling this is going to head into, ‘we should break up’ territory.

“I’m not lying, sweet girl. You can call James now if you think so, but I swear we were talking about Frank and his newest fling’s inability to not be all up in each other’s space every five seconds.”

You blink, “So you don’t want us to break up? You aren’t annoyed with me? Because if you are,” you take a shuddering breath. “I can take it.”

Remus tuts, “There’s not a possible timeline where I’d be breaking up with you. Baby, I swear on everything holy and sacred that I wouldn’t ever think let alone speak about you that way. We really were talking about Frank.”

You sigh, tension releasing from your muscles. “M’sorry,” you whimper, shutting your eyes as Remus stamps soft, sticky kisses to your face.

“Nothing to be sorry for, my love.” Remus kisses your forehead and then your lips. “I love you more than life itself, dove. Not a fucking thing I wouldn’t do for you, yeah? Best thing I ever had.”

Remus spends the rest of the night kissing and holding you, he even calls James up to reassure you that he’d never speak about you like that.

James is aghast you even wonder and promise you that if Remus ever lost his mind like that he’d kick his ass.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x crybaby!reader #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #crybaby!reader my beloved <3

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

part one

———

Finding parking is, as expected, hard, largely in part because Michael wants to get them all killed.

“— yeah, that’s right, shitwad! Back off! We were here —”

“Will you please shut the fuck up,” Lee hisses, jamming the switch for Michael’s window. Unfortunately, Michael is sticking his fucking head out of it, so it won’t close.

“This fucking guy! This fucking guy thinks he can swoop up to our spot —”

“Motherfucker we’re in Wilmington, do you want to get fucking shot —”

“He can wait his godsdamn turn like everybody else! Hey, fucker —”

He succeeds, finally, in yanking his brother back in by the scruff of his neck and speeding away from the shitwad in question.

“I can’t believe you let him walk all over us!”

“If I end up with a bullet hole through my windshield, I am kicking your ass, Michael. I won’t need to worry about some trigger happy mortal taking you out. I’ll kill you.”

“Drama queen. Now we’re never gonna find a damn spot.”

They do, in fact, find a damn spot. Within forty-three seconds of Michael saying that, actually, Will points out not just a parking spot but a pull-through, which Lee takes, smirking. Michael aims a kick for his knee.

“Go help Will unbuckle, you bitter bitch. I gotta grab something.”

Ignoring both Michael’s grumbling and Will’s insistence that he can unbuckle himself, thank you very much, Lee jogs over to the trunk. He grabs his and Michael’s bows, just in case, and carefully grabs the bundle of roses he bought from the stand across from his apartment. The stems are a little crushed, but the flowers all seem fine, full and bright, sunny yellow. Even the paper is relatively uncrinkled, folding delicately around the thorny leaves.

Michael nods when he sees them. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” Lee tosses him his bow, slinging his own over his back. It flickers with his quiver under the Mist, settling eventually to look like a small backpack. “Got ‘em this morning.”

“Can I hold them?” Will asks.

“Sure, kiddo.”

He lays them gently in his arms, the same way Cass has taught him to bundle herbs and plants when they gather for poultices. Every step is suddenly much more deliberate, avoiding potholes and cracks in the pavement so he doesn’t trip and crush them under his body. When he nearly walks in front of a car, not paying attention, Michael plants a hand on his head, guiding him around like a claw machine.

“Okay,” Lee says, holding open the door. “Let’s find Diana.”

The lobby is crowded. There are people everywhere — families, grandparents, and of course dozens of dancers, shining hair pieces glinting in the low lights, tutus and rhinestones peeking out of studio sweatsuits. Faces heavy with stage makeup bleed into each other. The building is abuzz with sound, chatter and laughter and shouting and twenty different songs playing at once. Lee can hardly believe they’re all fitting in the same building, and almost convinces himself it’s actually enchanted, smaller on the outside. He glances down when Will backs into him, flowers clutched tighter to his chest, and rests a firm hand on his shoulder. He hooks his finger around Michael’s hoodie, too, and for once he doesn’t complain.

“You see her?” he shouts over the noise. Or, well, Lee’s pretty sure that’s what he said. He shakes his head, anyway, and Michael scowls, standing uselessly on his tiptoes. Even if that didn’t put him just barely over most people’s shoulders, the throng of people is too thick to see much. People elbow and push each other around to meet up with family members, and groups of dancers do their best to practice their routines in what limited space is available. Lee has felt less claustrophobic in Times Square at Christmas.

In a stroke of brilliance, in his very humble opinion, he lets go of Will’s shoulder, puts both hands under his arms, and hauls him over his head, settling him on his shoulders.

“Keep an eye out,” he shouts.

Will grins, tugging on Lee’s hair with his free hand in confirmation.

One hand clamped over Will’s knees, the other still hooked on Michael’s hoodie, Lee starts to wade through the crowd. He can start to see, as he gets farther from the door, the entrance to the stage, the ticket stands, the coat check. Several banners hang temporarily from the ceiling and stick to doorways, welcoming them all to the Twenty-Sixth Annual Believe Dance Comp!, and a table laden with trophies sits proudly by the stage doors.

Sitting under one of the banners, Lee notices a group of girls of varying ages, all wearing the green and purple Stage Lights Dance Academy Cass sometimes wears. He guides them closer, scanning each stage makeup-ed face to try and find his sister, but stops short before he gets too close.

Two girls, sitting at the head of the group, mime twisting their hair, exaggeratedly anxious looks on their faces. The rest of the girls roar with laughter.

Lee feels something heavy settle in his stomach.

“You think anyone will come for her?” a younger girl asks, hushed so that Lee can barely hear her over the crowd.

One of the older girls snorts. “Are you kidding? The only way her mom will come is if there’s an open bar!”

Lee is reminded of the one and only time he’d fought a group of empousai. There’d been a trio of them a Central Park, on a field trip he’d gone on with his ninth grade class, surrounding one of the oak dryads. They’d crooned at her, tugging on her leafy hair and trailing clawed fingers down her handmade dress, calling out backhanded compliments. But Lee’s skin felt like it was crawling, he remembers, and the dryad had been tense, green tears building in her eyes. Every bleat of their laughter had grated his ears, and he’d snapped, eventually, ripping off his bow and picking them off one by one. The third one had seen him, chasing him away from his group, but he’d been so mad that he wasn’t even scared. The dryad hadn’t done anything. They got nothing from poking at her. They’d just done it to be cruel, because it was fun for them.

“I don’t even know why she has the gall to show up. She missed the final practice.”

“Miss Breanna likes her, that’s why,” one of the girls scoffs. “Of course she can skiff off practice and still compete. She thinks she’s so much better than us.”

Michael shifts forward. Lee throws out an arm to stop him, shooting him a warning look.

“You think anyone’ll take your side?” he murmurs.

“They’re talking about —!”

“I know, Michael.”

“They can’t talk about her like that!”

“I know, Michael.” He forces his jaw to unclench. “I know.”

“Yeah, well, favourite or not,” another dancer says wickedly, “her seats will be empty again. And she’ll walk out empty-handed and alone, like she always does.”

Most of the adults milling about the lobby hold flowers, like they do. Except unlike them, their bouquets are large, unlike them the stems are not crushed, unlike them they are wrapped in ribbons, in embroidered banners. One is, even, shaped as a ballet slipper, and Lee notices the oldest girl in the group, the one who made the joke about Cass’s mother, eyeing it, smirking.

He pictures Cass holding it next to all the other girls from her studio. With their big, normal families, their wide smiles, their fancy cameras, their beautiful, expensive bouquets. Pictures the smirks that will be sent her way, the whispers. They can’t — gods, what was he thinking?

“What time is it?” he asks.

Michael glances at his watch. “Quarter to.”

“Hm.”

In her frantic IM, yesterday, Diana had ordered them to be here by noon. From what little he knows about dance competitions, Cass’s performance will be sometime after that, nestled among the many. When exactly, he doesn’t know.

If they leave now, wagering, they could miss it. And that would be the worst thing of them all. But…

“Will,” he says, suddenly getting an idea. “C’mere.”

He reaches up and sets Will back on the ground, clutching his hand as he weaves through the crowd, beelining for the far corner. He stops at a sign with a little stick person on it, gently taking the flowers from Will’s hold and passing them back to Michael.

“Listen to me carefully.” He crouches to Will’s level, meeting his eyes. “Diana is — somewhere, in there, getting Cass ready. Michael and I can’t go in there. We need you to go in and act really confused.”

“That will be very easy, because I am confused,” Will protests. “Why do I have to go in there? I don’t even really know why we’re here!”

“Just — go in,” Lee insists. “Trust me. If I give you more instructions, it’ll ruin it.”

Huffing, Will goes.

“Brilliant,” Michael mutters. “Lose the kid and Diana. Great plan, Lee.”

“Come on, does no one trust me?”

“No one knows what you’re doing, dude! You hang around Carter for five minutes and suddenly you think you’re Mr. Plan Guy —”

Lee flushes. “That is not what this is about!”

“I am not missing this! I swear Lee, if we’re late —”

“We’re not gonna be late!”

“Why is it that every boy on Earth is actually stupid,” hisses a new voice. The change room door busts open, damn near cracking under the heel of a heavy boot, and Diana comes striding out behind it, Will perched on her hip. Her short dark hair sticks out in every which way, shoulders tense as a line, mouth twisted in a scowl. Immediately, Lee and Michael snap their mouths shut.

“Hey,” Will complains, pouting.

She adjusts her hold on him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not you, sweetpea. Only Thing One and Thing Two, over here.” She glares at them. “Why did I find him wandering around in the change room? I told you to wait for me in the lobby! I swear you two want to — ruin this!”

“Hey,” Lee says, flinching back. “You know we don’t, Diana. That’s not fair.”

She scrubs a hand down her face, sighing. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s just —” She presses another kiss to Will’s cheek and sets him down, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s been a rough morning. She keeps trying to call her mom, and — well.”

Lee hates that those girls were right. He hates it. He hates that they’ve been right before, that Cass has walked off the stage, face blank, alone. Hearing their giggling, probably. Twisting her hair around her fingers as she tries to hold it together.

His jaw tightens.

Not this fucking time.

“What time is Cass on?” he asks

“…Her solo at one-thirty,” Diana says. “But —”

“Great.” Lee grabs each brother’s shoulder, pulling them back. “We won’t be late, Diana, I promise.”

“Wait! Lee — dude, what are you —”

“We’ll meet you inside! Save us seats!”

“Lee! Get back here!”

“Seats!” Lee calls, glancing back. He makes a vague gesture in return to her incredulous, spread-wide hands, trying to convey the Situation. “We won’t be late! Promise!”

“I’ll kill you if you are!” she relents. “Be fucking back on time!”

———

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to take the car.

For whatever reason, both Lee and Michael assumed there would be a flower stand just outside the theatre. Neither of them had seen one on the way in, but it made sense. If Lee had a flower business, he’d probably put it next to a theatre. Where else would you put it?

Regardless, there isn’t anything close across the street, or even on the whole block. Will sits on his shoulders again, because it’s easier than trying to guide him, and every so often he glances at the watch Beckendorf made him, calling out the time.

“Will,” Lee begs, veering around a street corner, “you are not helping.”

“I am so!” He checks his watch again. “Twenty-seven minutes ‘til Cass starts. That’s why we’re here, right? To watch Cass dance?”

“So long as we make it in time,” Michael stresses. “Shit, Lee, maybe we should just head back. The flowers we have are fine —”

“Cass deserves more than fine.”

Michael snaps his mouth shut. “I know that.”

Lee slumps. “I — know you know. Sorry.”

Their steps fall in synch, footsteps making level prints in the light dusting of snow. On occasion a passing car drowns them out, but for the most part the only sound is their breathing, and Will picking at his nails. The shifting of their jackets.

“You’ll never undo it, Lee.” The road cross button makes a heavy click noise under Michael’s fist. The countdown for the walking man is loud, four, three, two, one. Three of the little lights are broken, making it look like its chest is cracked open. “There’s some shit you just can’t fix.”

“I’m not trying to — fix her,” he argues weakly. “I’m just…”

He can’t push away the horrible ache in his chest. The rapidly expanding feeling, the sinking chasm of expecting and hoping and being disappointed. Of looking out into the crowd to find a familiar face and not finding one. Of hearing giggles as you walk past and clenching your teeth, knowing. It balloons, pushing out on his ribcage, forcing its way up his throat.

Michael stops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Lee stares at a spot at the air above his shoulder, swallowing roughly, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Lee. You think competing with those assholes is gonna — go back? Gonna magically bring her fucking — hell, bring Dad?”

Lee looks away. “Of course not.”

“We’re going to be there. That’s what matters, isn’t it? That’s what’s really important.”

“Oh, to hell with high horses, Michael. I’m fucking tired of — of pretending it’s okay!” He starts forward again, ignoring the twinge of pain in his skull when Will grips his hair, yelping at the sudden surge forward. Michael jogs to keep up. “It’s — fight these monsters, train these kids, lead your cabin. Ignore the fact that your dad couldn’t be assed to visit a few times a year, he’s an Olympian, after all, you understand. Well, I’m tired of it! I’m tired of —” he trips over a crack in the sidewalk, barely catching himself — “I’m tired of being so damn understanding!”

For a moment Michael says nothing. Lee’s breathing is heavy, shakey, and it takes effort to still the tremble in his hands.

“The girl,” Michael says eventually. “The prissy one, who sat closer to the door.”

“…What about her?”

“I just.” He chews at his bottom lip. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, dude, but you have issues, dude, and shit you need to work out. For real. Besides just —” he gestures broadly at the mostly empty street — “ranting into the air.” Slowly, a smirk spreads across his face. “It would be really, really funny to see her face if Cass walks out with a bouquet three times the size of hers, wouldn’t it.”

Lee matches his grin. “It would be.”

“Betcha she’d seethe.”

“Probably turn purple.”

They turn to each other, finally back in synch.

“Nineteen minutes,” Will pipes up.

Lee startles. He checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Let’s go.”

———

part three

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therabbitthatpostthings · 2 months

Text

White Day

Teen!NanamixTeen!Reader -Part 1-

He didn’t have a crush on you.

Okay, he did but, Kento would never tell anyone he had a crush on you. His feelings were very important and not something he would go around telling people. You’d probably agree. You weren’t the type to make a big show of things and he liked that. If he could avoid telling people you were dating and just enjoy you alone, he would. Well. He would, if you were dating but you're not dating. Still, Kento couldn’t help but hold onto the hope that you might one day look his way. You were always so nice to him, nicer than the other upperclassmen. You took interest in the things he was embarrassed of, you liked the dramatic movies he did, you traded CD’s with him. You were like a dream come true in this cruel world.

He couldn’t help but wonder why you avoided him now.

You didn’t walk over to him and Haibara to trade snacks. You didn’t ask him to hold your books and started using your bag again. You didn’t offer to trade CD’s or share headphones. You didn’t even spar with him on the weekends. It was kinda embarrassing to admit but, he didn’t realize how much of his time was spent with you. How much space in his life you took up. This sudden feeling of hollowness surrounded him and it felt like everyone could see it. Everyone could feel it. Kento never noticed just how quiet his life was before you.

Kento walked through the halls, annoyed as usual. No particular reason but, it has conveniently been over two weeks since you two stopped talking. He didn’t realize you were ignoring him until you stopped having lunch together. He knew you were quiet that day but you were as loud as the other second years. He thought it was normal for you. And then you vanished from his life. The days since then blurred together. Kento stuck to his normal routine like a machine. The world would keep spinning after all. He was certain whatever was troubling you would blow over soon and you would tell him about it. He walked like a dazed zombie down the halls every morning and waiting in the class for Haibara to arrive. Today was different though, today he heard a light sound, a soft giggled coming from ahead of him.

There you were! Laughing aimlessly with Haibara and Shoko. His body froze a few steps away from you. You looked like a dream, like a distant memory that just came back to him. You noticed him standing there and his heart shattered when your face scrunched in anger and annoyance.

“I’ll talk to you later Yuu-Chan.” You smiled, gesturing towards Shoko to follow you down the hallway. You disappeared amongst the students as Kento approached Haibara.

Haibara looking between your fading figure and Kento, “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t know (Y/N) and you still talked,” Kento answered, still staring down the hall.

“Well yeah, they’re not mad at me.” Haibara stated.

That shocked Kento, “(Y/N) is mad at me?!” He said that a little too loud and Haibara quickly pulled him into the empty classroom.

“Why is (Y/N) mad at me?” Kento asked before the door could even shut.

“You rejected them.”

“When?!”

“On Valentine’s Day? The note?” Haibara gestured towards the desk.

“That was Gojo-senpai’s note!”

“Gojo-senpai wrote you a note?!”

“What are you talking about!?”

“What are you talking about?!”

Kento stepped back to lean against the desk as Haibara rattled on. “I never took Gojo-senpai for your type…”

Could that note have been from (Y/N)?

“I don’t think he likes the brooding type either…” Haibara inquired to himself.

Why would you of all people write him a note? It sounded ridiculous. There was no way you liked him. You couldn’t have, right?

Haibara struck a thinking man pose against the empty desk, “Utahime and Shoko-senpai seem more compatible with each other than either of them with Gojo-senpai.”

That perfume on the note, it was yours. He had been in your room plenty of times to spot it. You knew where he sat. You knew when he came into class. It had to be you.

“Definitely. Geto-senpai is his type.” Haibara concluded.

“Haibara?” Kento spoke.

Haibara was still tuned into his own deductions, “You agree, right?”

“Not about that! I need you to help me apologize to (Y/N).” Kento rested back against the desk. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew he had to make it up to you. He had to do it before you never talked to him again.

The rest of the day was filled with dread. You, of course, ignored and avoided Kento. It didn’t help calm Kento’s mind that that he embarrassed you in front of Gojo and Geto. Both of them just LOVED bringing up any embarrassing moment they witnessed. A chill ran down his spine at the thought that he is cause of your torment right now (even though they both knew better to not rub a heartbreak like that in your face). There was truly no escape from his mistakes. The worst part of it all is that he didn’t even bother to read the note. He crumpled your feelings up like trash and threw them back at you. Like it was below him. How could he do that to you?

You seemed to be fine without him which hurt a hell of a lot more. You smiled just as easily with Gojo and everyone else. It’s like you didn’t notice the space he left, if he took up any at all. Did he really mean so little to you that you could just erase him from your life? Would an apology even do anything? What if you already fell out of love with him?

____

“What is it? I'm busy.” Your words felt like daggers piercing through him.

“Just checking on you.” Kento replied, holding a bandage out for you to take. After a tough mission, in which you two still barely spoke, Kento was trying his hardest to make some kind of amends. Two weeks turned into three and a month later. Today is the first day you two were in the same vicinity. And truthfully you had nowhere else to be but it was better than being here, beaten and bruised by a dumb curse. It was located in the pool of a middle school on the other side of town. The curse wasn’t too hard or powerful, its only saving grace was its speed. It gave you both the run around from late morning to early evening while Gojo and Geto dealt with the much tougher foes on the outside. And Gojo being the saint he is made sure that You and Kento were stuck together the whole mission. I mean it only made sense to him, right? He and Geto are better suited for the bigger curses. He’s just being a responsible senpai! That’s also why he lovingly made sure to excuse himself and Geto from the car ride back so it was just you two alone in the infirmary.

The thought of that smug bastard dining on snacks from the convenience store while you had to suffer made your blood boil. You were grateful those two showed restraint until now but this was the worst time to confront your feelings. Aching and tired from an embarrassingly long mission.

“I’m fine, thanks.” You replied coldly. You ignored his gesture and reached for your jacket on the bench. You tugged it on and felt a sharp pain shoot up through your shoulder. It wasn’t that painful but you were in a hurry and the shock got to you. Kento quickly shifted to your aid but you took a step away from him.

“You’re hurt (Y/N),” He pleaded. He pulled the jacket out of your arms and you put up no fight against him. At this point you were willing to run without it. Who does he think he is to act so kindly now?!

You yelled, “Why do you care?!

How could he have any sympathy for you now? If he really didn’t like you he could have done it privately! Why embarrass you in front of your friends like that! On Valentine’s Day of all days!

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Leave me alone. You can’t just keep being friends with me after hurting me like that!”

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know you wrote the note!”

“How could you not know?!”

“I-I didn’t open the note-”

“You didn’t read it!” Your voice cracked in anger and sadness. The pain in your shoulder was distant compared to the lump in your throat and the pit in your chest. Forget throwing the note away, he didn’t even read it! He didn’t even care what you had to say! How could Kento be so cruel! “I wish you would just leave me alone!”

You turned to leave but Kento pulled you back by your wrist, mindful of your injury. You didn’t feel like trying to break free, it was only to aggravate your shoulder into an actual cause of concern.

He spoke softly, “I thought it was a prank from Gojo. It just didn’t make sense any other way. I’m sorry.”

You still faced away from him, “Did you not consider my feelings at all?”

“I couldn’t have imagined someone like you would ever like someone like me.”

You scoffed, “And what am I like?”

“Perfect. Gorgeous. Generous. Brave.” Kento listed off as you finally relaxed into his touch. You still didn’t turn around, afraid this was still some kind of joke. If it was, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

Kento sighed, “I never thought you would like me. Like I didn’t deserve you. So when I saw that letter I thought it could only be a joke. I thought I could live with you hating me but… I’ve realized how much it hurts not being with you. I didn’t mean to hurt you (Y/N), I’m sorry.”

You were trying your hardest to not let tears fall. Part of you wanted to pull away and run. The other wanted Kento to hug you close. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Kento wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose, that’s clear now. You always knew he wasn’t that kind of guy. You thought distracting yourself in your friends and missions would ease the pain but it only emphasized just how alone you felt without him at your side.

“(Y/N), I understand if you're still mad at me but please, don’t ignore me anymore.” He pleaded.

You hesitantly turned around, “Do you really like me, the way I like you?”

“I do!” He answered eagerly. His suddenness took you aback. Kento took both of your hands in his but quickly got embarrassed. A choked back laugh left you as he blushed. Though embarrassed, Kento was happy to see you smiling again. Smiling at him.

You pulled him into a hug, holding him like this moment would disappear. You listened to his heartbeat pick up as he wrapped his arms around you and relaxed into his embrace. Kento wasn’t much of a hugger but you loved being in his arms. He felt so safe with you.

You kept your head resting towards his chest. Softly you spoke, “I’m sorry I ignored you.”

“Don’t be, I should have read the note.”

You both stood there in a comfortable silence. Neither wanted to leave but the infirmary was closing for the night. Kento offered to walk back to your dorm room, obviously not ready for the moment to end.

“So,” he spoke carefully, “What did the note say?”

Your cheeks heated up at the memories. You spent four whole days writing a confession and scraped every version beyond the last. Even if that was short and sweet you still racked your brain over it! “D-Don’t worry about that! It’s over now!”

He chuckled, “(Y/N), I’ve never seen you so embarrassed.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” You pouted.

“How about we go on a date tomorrow? It’s White Day so, consider it my response.” Kento smiled. “Would you tell me what you wrote then?”

“Fine,” you huffed as you reached your room door. “Only because you're mending my broken heart.”

Kento smiled. He brought your hands up to his lips and gently kissed the inside of your wrist. “It’s a date. Rest up, okay?”

“R-Right..” You nodded. He gave you a small wave and he disappeared down the hall. You quickly shut the door behind you and slid down to your knees, thoroughly embarrassed. Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. You looked over to your desk where the infamous letter sat and the realization set in.

Ah… Kento… likes me…

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The Note Kento got vs the process Y/N went through:

Tag List:

@harlekin6 @scarasluvvr @patpatspatz @blendingmixer @cosmiicpiink @justakidnamedplant @polarbvnny @moka44 @desiderium-dreams @idioticstar @apchmon @niiconoriez @ilovemensomuch1234 @obsessive-clown @tyunswifey @lunasolac @spam-love @byul9158 @verynormalsstuff @abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz @zoom1374 @littlemissvalentina @kinokomoonshine @diannana @darlink-xoxo @g-kleran @luv444lay @preferstyles @braveironrose @melody-death

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x black!reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujitsu tech #kento nanami #writing fanfics at 3am #cringe-

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psychelis-new · 4 months

Text

pick a pile: "New Year's message for you"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to find a message that this new year wants to be delivered to you as it starts.

HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL! May you stay blessed, healthy, safe and happy all year long. May you be able to see your dreams come true before your eyes.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 4

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - some piles are interconnected so if you feel called by more than one it's fine, you may find your messages divided among them.

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

Honeybun this year I want you to focus on doing a bit more for yourself. More of the things you enjoy, more of the things you can do to show yourself love and care: make yourself a cup of that drink you love, stay hydrated/eat well, make your bed carefully, take a long bath, read or watch a movie, start that course you wanted to try, go to that new shop/market you wanted to see, dance and sing, draw and paint, go for a walk, take a nap, give yourself accolades for all you've done until now. Give yourself small gifts here and there to show yourself how much you appreciate all you do and the person you are becoming. You deserve that. Working on yourself while handling relationships and life is not easy, and you're doing your best. Take a breath, take time for you and set your boundaries. You're giving a lot on the outside to others, and I'd like for you to learn how to include yourself more into that receiving side. Not everything others need has to be so impellent: give it the right importance. Give to yourself too, you are as deserving as anyone else just because you're alive now: you don't have to do anything in particular to deserve love and care. Remind yourself that is not perfection what you're aiming for, as it doesn't exist: mistakes are okay, they help you grow and better yourself. Be nice, be happy: beautiful things are coming. Stretch yourself out, take (up) your place/space in your life. P.S. I know you like to write, so write. Write it all down. You never know... Don't be scared of talking about yourself and your needs.

song: cure my desire | hannah wants, clementine douglas

Possible meeting of new people especially friends and especially if you've been alone for a while now in the most unexpected ways/places (maybe also while you're expressing yourself in some -even artistic- way: could be photography, writing, talking, taking notes, studying, classes/courses...), follow your guts.

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

Little cutie you're so lovely you have no idea. And you're hurt, even if maybe you're not entirely aware of the ways you are. But that's okay: it'll come to you with time. We don't have to know and understand everything immediatly: that'll be too much, don't you think? We need to let things move and develop at their own pace. And at our own pace too: we need to respect ourselves. I know for now you may just feel confused and hurt, and I'm sorry. But don't give up. What I can tell you is: I'm gonna be gentle with you. I'm gonna watch you grow and learn how to take care of you and of your past, step by step (baby steps!). Your inner child needs you so much... Don't shut them off, listen to them. Help them find the answers they seek and could never get. Help them receive the love and attention they deserve. Those bandages you put over your wounds are now in need to be removed and the wounds need a better healing. Let them go, don't hold onto them anymore. I know you feel so worned out now, but you will make it. You have no idea what can be born on a healing wound. Think about the cracks in the concrete and how flowers can born from them. You're the same. You have buildt up walls and confined yourself behind a rigid structure to protect yourself but now it's all starting to crumble: you're too sweet to not be willing to deal with others and receiving love. You need others, everyone does. Let it all crumble, let others come closer. You will know who to trust, trust yourself. You will know how to make flowers come out of that place of hurt, you will survive. You will make it. I love you.

song: release | editors

You have probably jaded yourself out of pain or have been jaded for a while, maybe you're finding out about triggers and traumas you may need to work on. I feel things will start to improve this year, you may be approached by good people. Some of you may also be approached by someone from their past trying to make things up: up to you if to let them in again in your life or not but please be aware of who they are now and keep in mind the pain they caused you. Stay grounded. I don't see much career/school-wise, probably it's not the main focus of the year or there aren't huge changes in sight as for now.

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

Sweetheart, it's time to move. It's time to change, to travel. To see new places and experience new emotions. To start a new life. I know you want it too, you're hungry for all that at this point. It's time to travel in time as well: go to your past once more, it's almost done. Take care of your inner child and younger self, help them heal the last bits of pain. Love them and love your present self the same way, as they're still part of you. They still live inside of you: embrace them, embrace your whole self, embrace every part of you. And plan your future: don't let life and others decide your moves entirely. Listen to what they want to say and find the hidden meaning of what happens if you need, but then act according on your intuition. Trust yourself and your guts the most and be aware of others' real intentions and energy around you. Be graceful and delicate as you've always been but don't let anyone fool you, don't let their fears win you over, don't let your hurt self control you and hinder you. You already know it: it's time, it's time. It's time to shed a light onto what is hidden, onto what is dark; it's time for clarity, especially of your mind. Be open to receive, also new downloads from us. We're not leaving from your side, ever. It's our time too now. Be a ray of sunshine for everyone to see, be always lovely and warm with others as I know you are. Dream big and act even bigger.

song: set fire to the rain | adele

For some, strong love energy (possible counterpart/fs/long time partner-- their higher self may be in contact with you); also new start in career/change of career/start of business/change of school or way to study/results

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 4

Dear one, this year I would like you to focus on creating your new self, on crafting yourself with no fear of failure. You have all that you need, just let yourself see that and welcome who you are from within. Take time to know yourself/build up yourself again, if this is what you need now. You've been through a lot now so it's okay to be confused and maybe even angry. But do not give up on the amazing person you are. Shine bright, and let those who like you, see the real you. Let your real self out and be liked by others, and don't worry about how they may perceive you. I know it's hard and you only want to be accepted, as you are tired of feeling alone, but trust me: the moment you start embracing yourself, people will come at you, attracted by your amazing talents and abilities. You can't see them now, so please, go within to find them. You have plenty, trust me. Be nice and compassionate with yourself: you've been through a lot. And remember it's okay if it's going to take a little more time to get where you want: the path you will choose, will take you anywhere you want. Just don't let others' images of you make you change your mind. Life and relationships are pretty complex, and it's hard to get through them tbh. But you can make it, you can come out of the storm and you will. And out of this storm, you'll find exactly want you want. Even me.

song: le cose più rare | cosmo (at the end it keeps repeating "then maybe one day we'll meet again" and I think it may be important for someone of you, especially if about someone you're no longer in contact with/cannot be in contact with)

For some, there's possible love/partnership (also friends) in sight; career-wise you may receive an important offer and/or as said get into a partnership or find clients interested in what you offer (you may come up with that in a few months if you aren't still sure about it)

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card #divination #pick a card reading #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a card tarot #tarot readings #tarots #intuitive readings #clairs readings #psychic readings #tarotblr #tarotcommunity

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kleftiko · 9 months

Note

do you know this cut dating show where they put two people in a box for 12 hours for a blind date? would you be able to write a drabble about hawks x reader in this setting, i just thought it was cute 😩

❦ 12 HOUR DATE

cw: none, this is fluff

okay so i watched an episode and the only thing i can think of is the box being so god damn small 😭 his wings too big for this got dang box

intro—

"hi, im y/n." you nod your head to the camera, knees tucked up to your chest.

"and i’m hawks," he throws up a casual wave and smile, body mimicking your pose so as not to get into each other’s personal space.

not like that was really an option, what with how small the box is. the first thing hawks does is shake your hand, warm and rough palms clasping yours, before the both of you return to your own corners.

"are we ready?" the producer calls, and you two give a simple nod. "any questions?"

"are my feathers allowed to leave the box?" hawks (thankfully) asks, the red wings brushing against you involuntarily.

"uh, yeah, sure, they can do whatever," is the answer. "alright, three, two, one..."

hour 1–

"i don’t have any siblings." he answers your question. "id like to think i was the best outcome, though."

you breathe out a laugh. "what’s it like being a hero?"

he makes a face, and you can’t help but genuinely giggle.

"that’s too deep a question," he smiles. "next!"

hour 3–

"i wanna—just—like starfish." you say.

"starfish?"

you nod, bent arms lifting to the sides as you attempt to raise a leg, "starfish. it’s so cramped, i need to stretch."

it seems he understands what you’re saying. hawks grabs his jacket and shuffles to the back wall of the box.

"here," he goes, "you take this side, i'll take here; we can stretch out a bit."

it’s not much, but the stretch of your legs as the two of you face each other is a bit relieving. you can even slide your back onto the ground, your legs bending to accommodate. you both attempt to get comfortable, back against the floor and eyes to the ceiling.

"not really a starfish—more like an inchworm." he says this and wiggles his body. you can’t see it, but the foot that nudges you and the sounds he makes erupt a laugh from your throat.

hour 5–

you two are nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, legs stretched towards the camera. hawks’ fingers are picking at the fur lining of his jacket, your own coat stuffed to the side.

"what’s your… favourite kind of… kiss?"

you cock your head, taking note of the pink on his cheeks and his lack of eye contact.

"you mean like..." you couldn’t help wanting to tease him. "cookies and cream?"

he snorts loudly, throwing his jacket in your face out of embarrassment as you cackle and catch it.

"shut up! you know what i mean!" to be dramatic even further, he scoots to the other side of the box, ignoring your laughing.

"i don’t think i do," you admit. "how many kinds of kisses are there?"

"at least—like—two."

thinking about it, you don’t notice that you start folding his jacket; it's thick and warm, perfect for the cold wind he probably flies through every day.

"probably standard forehead kisses." you shrug and place his coat beside yours. "what about you?"

he bites the inside of his cheek slightly, not giving you an answer. after a beat, you raise your eyebrows.

"have you never been kissed before?"

hour 8–

"my name is keigo, by the way." he whispers.

there’s no need to speak loudly; the two of you are lying side by side, bent legs knocking into each other softly as your heads are using his jacket as a pillow.

"keigo…" you test on your tongue. "that’s nice; i like it."

he chuckles halfheartedly and says, "that’s good; i like your name."

"thanks, i got it for my birthday."

the two of you turn your heads to face each other, the proximity not really bugging either of you anymore. your gaze focuses softly on his eyes, admiring the colour and sleepiness in them from a lack of movement.

you hold up your hand, and he smiles before giving you a high-five.

hour 10–

now you’re on your stomachs, your coats used as pillows as you watch outside the box. his feathers are barely visible in the camera, but it can capture your focus as you follow them zoom all around the room. partials of a few bunching together reveal shapes, and keigo’s ramblings about straw houses allow anyone to understand he’s telling the story of the three pigs.

both your faces are filled with content and childlike wonder as you watch the story. arms shift into one another as you point somewhere.

hour 12–

heads are resting on each other’s shoulders, exhaustion apparent on both your faces, and your mouths are silent. all four hands are up as you see if either of you can lower just your pinky.

"my left just won't go down." he mumbles, and you let out a half-hearted ‘that’s what she said’.

he flicks your forehead, and you both laugh.

"it’s gonna be weird leaving here now." he admits. "all of a sudden, you won't be here."

"is this stockholm syndrome?" your hands rest on your lap.

he admits, "maybe."

outro—

"so, how was it?" the producer asks behind the camera.

keigo has his coat on and his wings spread as he gets to stand once again.

"definitely new," he says. "and weird."

"do you think you’ll see them again?"

he shakes his head with a grin. "hell no—never—they were so—"

"—you can get bubble tea by yourself then!" your voice sounds far away from the camera as keigo laughs.

"wait!" he calls as he disappears from the shot, his voice now drowning out as he chases after you offscreen. "i don’t know where the place we’re going to is!"

#mha fanfiction #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x you #boku no hero academia hawks #hawks fluff #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x gender neutral reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #mha hawks #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

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violetarks · 1 year

Text

visitor

show: alice in borderland

character: chishiya shuntaro

summary: you visit your idiot brother at the while he's injured and in the process, meet someone new. you caught his eye and now you have another reason to visit so often.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, spoilers for season 2 episode 8

"you're so dumb!" you call as you walk into the room, a doctor flailing behind you in worry. but you only focus your eyes on your brother, who lays in the bed fully, glancing back with you. an annoyed sigh leaves his lips before he closes his eyes. "i told you i'd pick you up! and then i get a call saying you were already there? and you were in an accident!"

niragi knew you'd be the first to come. the only, actually. but he could never deal with your shouting, especially not when it happened so frequently. it's been a day since the accident, and he has finally woken up.

you put your bag on the floor against the bedside table. "you could stand to listen to me at least once! this is why you're always getting hurt and i'm always the one checking up on you."

you made it sound like a hassle, but the both of you know that no matter what, you would stick by. you made a promise to yourself to make your brother a better person, and niragi vowed to protect you from the bullies in life. you needed each other.

"yeah, yeah, i got it. god, you're so fucking loud." he grumbles back to you, "can't you see i'm in pain?"

you hold your angry gaze before a bit of sadness falls in. you stand at his side, pressing a gentle hand to the bandages on his arm. "you look like shit, suguru." you mutter out under your breath, "the hell were you doing there so early? we were supposed to meet at 2!"

"i got tired of waiting! i was calling you to tell you to hurry the fuck up!" he exclaimed, making you drop your jaw, "how about you answer your phone next time, huh?"

you retract your hand, pointing an accusing finger at your brother. "i told you, moron, i was in a meeting! 2 was the earliest i can do!"

"ah, please... there are other patients in this room..." the doctor says, waving his hand to dismiss the situation, "we don't want to cause a ruckus..."

you look back to the doctor. "sorry, i forgot..." you say in a quieter tone. your eyes gaze upon the two other occupants in the room, both staring right back at you in frozen shock. you give a little bow. "i apologise, i just needed to talk to this... dumbass... but i promise, no more yelling."

"thank fuck."

"suguru."

"it's alright." the furthest one, in the corner near the window, says to you. he has a bandage on his cheek, and grins to you softly.

the one beside your brother, notably taking his eyes off of you and on your brother. "don't worry about it. this guy your boyfrend or something?"

"oh, hell no." you laugh, the doctor then leaving the room, deeming it safe, "he's my older brother."

suguru glares back at the man beside him. "are you stupid?"

in response, he raises his brow at the stranger's words. you widen your eyes and slap your brother's shoulder. "shut up, suguru!" you scoff, turning back to the strangers, "sorry about him, he can't read social cues... my name is y/n."

the black-haired man in the back sits up, throwing his legs off the side of the bed. "i'm arisu. it's nice to meet you." he says.

the blonde speaks up, "chishiya. it's a pleasure."

arisu stands up, holding his back a bit. "i'm going to go get a drink." he states, leaving the room.

chishiya keeps his eye on you. you were obviously so caring of your brother that you would berate him this much. but your tone conveyed an annoyed feeling. your face showed that you were stressed, but relief had washed over you when you realised he was as good as he could be.

"there's a chair here, stop standing there." suguru tells you, nodding to the space in between him and chishiya at the ends of their beds. you walk around, taking the spot, ignoring his ignorant voice.

"the doctors said they wanted to run you through a couple more tests." you say, your voice sounding softer now as you stare at your brother, "they're going to come in soon."

"more tests? fuck, they won't let me go." suguru grumbles, leaning his head back against the pillow. he hated the stares people gave him because of all the bandages on his face. he hated being small in their eyes. "whatever... you staying? or heading out after i leave?"

you think for a moment, tapping your knee, before you respond, "i'll stay. i want to talk to you some more before i leave."

as if on time, the doctor from earlier comes in, holding a clipboard with quite a few papers on it. "mr niragi, we've set up the rooms for testing." he claims, looking at the both of you, "although, there are many. this would take at least an hour."

suguru looks back at you as nurses come in, ready to transport him to the first test. "you still gonna' stay? you'll be lonely, like a loser." you give him a look.

"they won't be lonely." chishiya speaks up, leaning comfortably against the bed. he smiles at your brother, with some teasing hint behind it. "i'll keep them company."

"i already hate you." suguru claims, beginning to move out of the room while he hears your chuckle at chishiya's claim. soon enough, he's gone and the door is closed. just you and chishiya.

you rub the back of your neck with a big sigh, "he's going to be the death of me... i can't help but worry for that guy."

chishiya sits up, leaning away from the bed's support. "he does seem to be a bit of a handful." he says in response, "you have it all together for the both of you, hm?"

you shrug your shoulders, staring back at the guy. it was strange, he didn't look to be injured. "so what happened to you? if you don't mind me asking."

chishiya smiles, placing a hand over his stomach first. "impaled. twice, what are the chances?" he says, "missed any vital organs, so that's a plus."

"you sound weirdly fine with being impaled twice." you say, smiling awkwardly. chishiya shrugs. he grins back at you softly, and you can't help but stare for a few more seconds. he sure was pretty. "so... job?"

"is this a first date?" he raises his brow.

"i would hardly call this place suitable for a first date." you joke, shaking your head, "maybe when you're out of here."

chishiya stops, his brows lifting a little more and his lips parting. you were confident, he could give you that, it was obvious that you and suguru were related. the way you smile at his silence makes his chest squeeze, and he sits up straighter under your heavy gaze.

"i should be released in the next few weeks." chishiya states, tilting his head at you, "and to answer your question, i'm a medical student."

"smart." you say, impressed. chishiya nods his head, asking about your job. "i'm a part of a publishing firm."

"creative." he compliments.

the both of you talk for the hours that your brother is busy doing tests. usually, chishiya wouldn't spend all this time just speaking to a stranger. but you were kind and didn't make him feel uncomfortable in silences. you would fill them with questions or simply just explaining things about you and your brother. chishiya was glad you weren't the nervous type.

you began to come over more in your spare time, dropping off supplies for your brother and talking to him for a while with chishiya in the background listening. sometimes, suguru would be out on his walk or in physical therapy (without telling you so you couldn't follow) and you'd be in the hospital room waiting for his return. but it was okay, chishiya was always there to keep you company. he'd tell you all the things that the doctor's were saying about your brother, what it meant, and most importantly, his progress.

you learnt from what he told you that your brother would be sent home after a month. relief washed over you and you thanked him. chishiya was more than happy to help, especially seeing how glad that made you.

"do you know when you'll be released?" you questioned that same day he informed you of suguru's last day.

chishiya, who sits across from you in the open hospital yard at a coffee table, watches as you stir your drink. it was his idea to leave the room today and get some coffee or tea, feeling stuffy in that room (and quite lonely since his only friend arisu was occupied by some girl he heard named usagi) and you just happened to drop by as he was getting ready to leave, your brother out of sight. so he asked you to come along, enjoying your smile as you accept.

"itching for that first date?" he mutters to you, leaning back in his spot.

you chuckle, "that wasn't the point. you know, after suguru comes home, i won't have a proper reason to visit the hospital anymore. they only allowed family to come see the patients, with how many there are."

you made a good point there. chishiya doesn't think he's seen anybody other than you or arisu's father or brother come around to visit them. and judging by niragi's personality, he was surely stringing some girls behind, no?

"so, yeah, we can go out on a date when you're released. or we can just continue talking casually." you offer him, holding your drink, "i don't mind."

chishiya raises a brow. he's a bit suspicious. why would you be so willing to spend time around him? some sort of game? he hums, "you don't mind? really?"

you shrug your shoulders as you sip from your cup. when you place it down on the table, chishiya eagerly awaits your response. "i really don't. you know, i like spending time with you, chishiya."

he's only known you for a good two weeks. is that long enough to develop feelings?

he's heard stories from people he worked with and around. proposing on their anniversary, chasing them to the airport before they board, dating since they were fifteen. he's even heard of some couples who move in together mere months after dating. he used to think it was all too fast.

but was it okay for someone to fall in love that quickly?

he decides to test the waters, overturning his hand so his palm is presented to the person in front of him. "i like spending time with you too, y/n."

you reply with a simple grin, resting a gentle hand in his. "that's great. then we can hang out more once you're out of here."

"i'll be released next week. thursday, 9 in the morning." he states, confident that your hand was the only thing keeping him warm in the spring weather. you blink at him, making chishiya nervously tilt his head with a grin. "too soon for you?"

you shake your own head and say, "no, it's not that, it's just that you made it sound like i'd have to wait another fortnight for you to be out of the hospital." you squeeze his hand ever so gently. "i'll spare some time."

"did you want to get breakfast with me?" he asks, nearly too fast for his liking.

you mumble, "what day?"

"thursday." chishiya is confident he is coming off too strong. but who was around to tell him off?

you laugh in response, "now it sounds like you're the one who can't wait." he wants to crumble into the ground. "but sure, i can do thursday. have a spot in mind?"

a loud huff interrupts the both of you. suguru, in crutches, lands in the chair beside you as soon as chishiya goes to answer. he's almost like a bad luck charm. your brother is breathing heavily, leaning his crutches against the table as he lets out a hefty sigh.

"god fucking damn it, i hate these things." he tells you, throwing his head back. the nurse helping him before standing a few feet away to give you privacy, but it was obvious that they were trying to get your brother back to his room. "remind me to never break my leg ever again. this fuckin' sucks."

"i would think so." you murmur to him.

that's when his eyes suddenly go down to your hand, linked with chishiya's on the table. and now, he's confused.

"what the fuck is this?" he questions, furrowed brows. he stared stupidly at you two as you noticed your hands and pull away at the same time. his gaze turns to chishiya first. "you gotta' be messing with me. no way you fell for this smart-ass, y/n."

chishiya places a hand over his heart. "you wound me, niragi." he sarcastically says, finishing off his drink as he stands up, "i'll let the two of you talk. if you need me, i'll be in the room."

he doesn't get very far before you call his name again. chishiya turns around, watching you scribbling something on the spare napkin you brought took you with the pen the nurse so kindly provided. he can already guess what it is, and now he's even more sure this isn't real. nobody would actually write their phone number on a napkin, right?

"feel free to text or call me whenever." you say, handing it to him. and sure enough, it's the digits to your cell. accompanied by your name and a smiley face, as if he was one to received many numbers from pretty strangers such as yourself. "i'll see you before i leave."

chishiya pockets the napkin securely in his pocket, holding his hand there for safe keeping. "i'll keep an eye out. see you, y/n."

"bye, chishiya." you respond, watching as he walks back towards the main building.

suguru is going to throw up, is what chishiya hears him say. you two speak loudly that he can still catch what you are talking about.

"why him of all people? i woulda' accepted even arisu over that guy." suguru scowls, making you roll your eyes.

you mumble back, shaking your head, "don't be mean, you barely talk to him."

"that's a fucking lie, he belittles me when you're not around." he points out, glaring holes in the back of chishiya's head. he can feel them.

"well then, soon you'll only have to see him when i'm around." you claim, holding your chin in your hand as you smile to yourself, "so no problem."

suguru gets one look at you and sees that you're being dead serious. he groans, eyes up to the sky, "what do you see in a guy like him?"

you trace the rim of your mug. "i like him a lot. he's smart."

chishiya is out of earshot as soon as that's said, and he's almost glad. he doesn't want to walk around the hospital with some dumb smile on his face.

#chishiya shuntaro #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya #chishiya x reader #alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #aib #aib x reader #alice in borderland chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #aib chishiya x reader

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 3 months

Text

Taking Care of My Girl ~Dom!Rafael Barba xFem Sub!Girlfriend!Reader

Summary— Aftercare with Rafael.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: Implied smut, aftercare, overstimulation, implied dom/sub relations, implied daddy kink, comforting, physical comforting, kissing, post-sex bliss, etc.

Enjoy (;

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d be holding as your body went limp against Rafael’s.

“Rafi… that was fuck…” you breathed out with a light chuckle, too speechless and fucked out to finish your thought.

“I could say the same thing, Mierda…” Rafael sighed in content, letting out a chuckle as well and using one hand to swiftly swipe his messed up hair out of his face.

The man was holding you up from behind, and his cock was still deep inside your core. You ran a hand through your now messed up hair, before turning back and looking at the man who had just fucked you to ecstasy. You were both beaming with blissed out smiles. His fingers traced mindless patterns along your now sensitive skin.

“I’m going to pull out now, hmmm hermosa…?” Rafael gently told you.

“Alright. just… slowly please, Papi…” you responded still in your sub space, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as your body tingled in the after affects of your orgasm and as the overwhelming wave of post-sex hit you.

“Mhmmm, always.” he sighed reassuringly, before slowly pulling her length out from your core.

You winced slightly at the adjustment of Rafael’s dick pulling past your sensitive walls. His hands were now soft and caressing your shoulders and sides, holding you steady and comforting you through the brief discomfort, compared to the vice grip he had your hips and shoulders just mere moments ago when you were screaming his name as you came together.

“Such a good girl, Cariño…” Rafael cooed in your ear, once he was fully out of you.

His warm and sexy hands then guided you to lay down on the bed. And Rafael came up against your back, big spooning you while running his fingers through your hair and whispering strings of praise in your ear.

“You did good, Querida… so good… bueno nena, mi amor…” Rafael praised you with gentle, soft love.

Your body’s numbness and limpness had faded, and you were now trembling lightly. Your breathing was still shallow, and your head was spinning.

Rafael tended to have this effect on you. Curse him and whoever gave him the genes of not only a silver tongue, but also ten nice thick fingers, on top of a back breaking, leg splitting cock…

He began to rub and massage your trembling and sweaty frame with his hands in soft and loving motions. His mouth gave you kisses along your back and shoulders and neck.

You sighed, finally able to take a breath and resurface from your deep mindset that reeked of sex and power and control. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back into Rafael’s sweaty body, humming in happiness at the skin on skin contact.

“There’s my Cariño…” Rafael hummed with a smirk caressing your side now, always proud of how blissed out he made, but just as happy to have his girlfriend back.

“Mmmmmm…” you hummed, turning your head up and back to look at him, then leaning toward him and rubbing your nose against his lovingly, cupping his cheek with your hand, “I love you, Rafi…”

After rubbing noses, you two landed on being head on head, just laying together with closed eyes in peaceful love.

“Mmm, I love you too, hermosa… mucho mucho, mi amor…” Rafael breathed out under his breath for only you to hear.

You both couldn’t help the bright, blissed out smiles that spread across your faces. And you both laid in each other’s arms, taking in and enjoying the moment, while you regained your composures.

You began to doze off in Rafael’s arms, and his heart melted at the sight. Somehow, the cutthroat, ambitious DA that took down rapist and pedophiles had fallen for you and had turned into the biggest softie. He couldn’t deny that he loved who he was with you, just as he enjoyed who he was at work.

He let you sleep for about 20 minutes, drinking in your blissful, resting form, before gently tapping your thigh and rocking you back awake. You snorted a little as you came back to Rafael, stretching a little in his arms still as you woke up.

“I would have let you sleep, but I want to make sure to get you cleaned up, fed, and taken care of, Cariño…” Rafael hummed lovingly.

You now flipped over to your other side slowly as you could feel your impending soreness. Now facing your boyfriend, you looked at his pearly green, caring eyes and your heart melted.

You leaned in just enough to gently place your lips on his. It was a light kiss, short and sweet, but filled with so much unsaid love and care. You then pulled away, too soon for both of your liking, but content at the same time.

“Mmmm thank you… you’re so kind to me…” you hum, your mind still a little fuzzy.

At this, Rafael brought his hands up to your cheeks, and his gaze bore into yours.

“Of course, mi amor… you deserve all the love in the world.” He genuinely said, with a hint of vulnerability and a whole lot of care.

It was Rafael’s turn to press his lips against yours now, before pulling away after a moment with a smile.

“Now, let me go get a warm washcloth, hmmm…? Then I’ll clean you up, maybe we order some take out, I can give you a bath, then bed…?” Rafael breathed out.

You smiled back, pressing your body into his and wrapping your arms around him.

“Yes please…You take such good care of me…” you murmured into his warm and sexy chest.

Rafael chuckled lightly, slowly getting up from the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead before standing up completely.

“For you? Anything, Cariño…” Rafael hummed, before going to get that warm washcloth to clean you up.

~~~

Rafael Barba Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

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finalgirleddiemunson · 2 years

Text

Home is Wherever I’m With You (Steve Harrington x Reader)

summary: a collection of scenes from moving in with Steve. (wc 2.6k)

warnings: kissing, cursing, domestic steve, found family, you know the vibes. let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: I’m thinking of making this a multi-part series, one where you could just read any part you wanted out of order, but that all fit in with this reader and Steve. let me know if that’s something y’all are into or not :)

masterlist

-----

In typical Steve fashion, the question of, “Do you want to move in together?” is simultaneously the easiest question in the world to answer and an earth-shattering declaration.

“So I was thinking…” Steve starts. He’s laying across your bed, arms hugging one of your pillows close as he watches you put away laundry. Sort, fold, put away, repeat.

“Dangerous,” You hum.

“Not nice,” he quips without hesitation, used to you.

You giggle then prompt, “You were thinking…?”

“Well your lease is running out here soon…” He’s got this lilt to his voice, the kind that he puts on when he’s trying to seem nonchalant. He’s never been very good at hiding his real feelings though, not to you. “And those apartments on the other side of town just opened up. You know I’ve been trying to get out of my parent’s place for, like, ever, so I’ve been saving up. And now I’m sitting here watching you fold laundry and all I can think about is how I want to fold laundry and make up a bed and pick out dishes with you. I don’t know, that sounds stupid out loud, I guess it was just a thought I had. You can think on it or tell me to shut up about it or-”

“Steve,” you interrupt, not unkindly. “Are you asking if I want to move in together?”

“Well-” He makes an odd gesture with his hands. Drops them back down to his lap and shrugs his shoulders while looking for the right thing to say. He settles on, “Yeah. Is that…something you would want?”

You can’t hide your smile from him as you crawl across your bed until your faces are level to each other. You kiss him, a bright and quick kiss that makes his eyes soften, losing some of the nervous tension in his shoulders. “Yeah. That’s something that I would want.”

His answering smile is bright enough to fill the room.

—

The easiest part of the process is getting the apartment.

A leasing agent shows you around a staged space. You and Steve hold hands through the whole tour, even while he does things like open cabinets and check the faucets because he wisely informed you, “That’s what you’re supposed to do when you tour a new place, babe.”

“How would you know?” You’d responded with a giggle, but shut up when the leasing agent appeared to talk to you about the spacious kitchen with new appliances.

It’s not actually very spacious and you’re positive the appliances aren’t new, but Steve’s thumb runs across the back of your hand and you wouldn’t care if it was the worst apartment in the world, so long as he was the one you’re sharing it with.

—

A few days later, you’re signing papers- the trailing cursive of your signature touching Steve’s as you sign a lease together.

“Okay, and this page is about the no pet policy. So, I guess Dustin can’t come over-” Steve snickers when you hit him. Steve signs at the bottom of the sheet, long fingers flipping to the next one in the stack of papers you both have to go through.

Despite how certain you feel in your decision, you can’t help the galloping beat of your heart.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice is quiet, a soothing balm on your anxiousness, “We don’t have to do this. You can back out now, no hurt feelings. It won’t change anything.”

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, just holding there. A reassuring weight that conveys how genuine he is, how patient he is with you while he waits for your response.

Your fingers find the bottom of his polo, thumb dragging across the stitching so you don’t have to look in his eyes. See the wide, unconditionally caring expression in his eyes that is undoubtedly mirrored in your own.

It won’t change anything- meaning he wouldn’t hold it against you. He would drop the whole thing now, even when you’re so close to this new future with the two of you. Your Steve, always looking out for you, whatever you need.

But you don’t need reassurances on this.

“You just want the closet to yourself, you can’t fool me.” You sign the final page and push the paper across to Steve. You dare a look up at his face.

He’s smiling- just a small upturn that he’s trying to hide. He shrugs, “It is a nice closet.”

—

Then there’s the moments in between. In the time before your old lease runs out and your new one with Steve begins, you both start to accumulate little things that belong to the two of you.

Date nights are now spent at thrift stores, lovingly picking out mismatched plates that somehow work together. They’re what you can afford, and they’re not perfect, but you love them all the same for the simple fact that they belong to the both of you.

Despite it being only the two of you living in the new place, Steve insists on picking out seven extra plates. And when he finds a mug with the Ghostbusters logo on it, collecting dust pushed back on the thrift store shelf, he handles it with care as he puts it in your cart. You pretend you don’t know why, but file it away to tease him about later.

A few days later, Steve shows up at your apartment door, hauling a box full of things that clink together when he sets it on your counter.

“Cups! And they’ve got cool designs on them.” He looks so proud as he unwraps the tissue paper from around a glass to show you. True to his words, etched into the glass are pictures of fruits, wrapped around the middle.

“Where did you get them?” You examine the designs as he pulls out a set of wine glasses to show you.

“Dustin’s mom was clearing out her cabinets to get new stuff, she asked if I wanted them.”

“Dustin’s mom is offering you glasses now?” You bump your hip against his.

“Yeah, well,” He looks slightly sheepish, “When I went to pick Dustin up the other day she came out and started telling me this big story about how she heard we’re moving in together and she remembered the days when she first moved out of her parents’ house and not having anything and handed me this box.” He gestures to the cardboard like it’s a treasure chest. You suppose, to the two of you, it might as well be.

A different part of the story sticks out to you. “You told Dustin we’re moving in together?” You step in close, arms wrapping around his waist as you peer up at him.

“I think a shorter list would be who I haven’t told we’re moving in together.” He reciprocates your hug, wrapping his arms around you tight, and he doesn’t have the decency to look embarrassed.

You giggle, press a kiss to his jaw. “I’m really excited to live with you, Steve Harrington.”

“You’re okay too, I guess.”

You feel his smile when he kisses the top of your head.

—

The most difficult part of the process is the actual move-in.

While you count your lucky stars that there’s no rain in the forecast, the sun beating down on the two of you is draining you quickly. The heat makes your shirt stick uncomfortably to your back, and your stop every so often to wipe perspiration from your brow.

You’ve hauled more boxes into the space of your new apartment than you care to count, Steve and you passing each other as you both go back and forth from your car and his to collect more things.

There’s a recliner that you acquired from your parent’s storage shoved into the back of your car, and you’re not sure if you can muster up the strength to get it into the apartment.

“Steve, let’s just live out here,” you call, leaning miserably against the side of his car.

He looks equally as tired as he deposits the box he was carrying on the ground in favor of leaning next to you.

He considers your proposal for a moment. “There’s no walk-in closet out here,” he eventually sighs.

“The world is our walk-in closet.” Your head thunks against the metal of the car as you wither a little more.

“Oh right, obviously.” He rubs your shoulders soothingly, fingers scratching against the material of your shirt.

The jingle of a bike bell and the crescendoing sound of arguing voices catches your attention, spine straightening as you look towards the road leading to your apartment complex.

“What the hell?” Steve sounds properly mystified as he spies the source of the noise.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your favorite rag-tag group of high-schoolers coasting down the hill and screeching into the parking lot, pulling their bikes into a space a few spots down from you and Steve.

“I told you taking Ellington Road would have been faster,” Lucas grumbles as he kicks the stand on his bike. Max kicks her skateboard up so she can grab it, appearing to have been riding along on her board while Lucas pulled her with a rope tied to the back of his bike.

“Well we’re here now aren’t we?” Dustin throws his arms up.

“Yeah, but if we took Ellington we could have been here five minutes ago,” Mike points out, not bothering with the kickstand as he lets his bike fall.

“Oh my god, shut up about Ellington or not Ellington,” Max sighs as she ties her hair back.

“Henderson!” Steve calls, arms up in exasperation. For a moment, he and Dustin are mirroring each other, and you chuckle at the picture. All of their heads snap towards you, as though just now noticing you and Steve. “Guys, I told you I can’t give any rides today, we’ve got a lot of moving to do.” Steve’s hands go to his hips as he jerks his head to the boxes spilling out of the back of his car.

“That’s why we’re here!” Dustin’s grin takes over his face. Mike looks a special kind of miserable as he squints from the sun, dark hair even messier than usual from riding his bike.

Steve’s brow furrows, confusion across his face. Lucas elaborates, “Yeah, we’re here to help you move stuff.”

“And to see the new place. They’re already planning on how to get you and Steve to let them crash here whenever they want.” Max smarts as she struts over. She reaches to the Walkman on her hip and she pops out the tape in it, passing it to you. “I liked it,” she says simply, giving you the tape you had let her borrow a few weeks ago. From Max, those three words are a glowing, five-star review and you preen just a bit.

“We are not scouting a new hang out spot. We’ve got Mike’s house for that.” Dustin good-naturedly slaps Mike’s shoulder. Mike rolls his eyes and hits him back.

“I don’t know, you could probably fit at least six sleeping bags in the living room. Maybe more.” You say casually.

Dustin stops. “Are you shitting me?”

You shake your head, trying to disguise your smile, “I’m not shitting you.”

“Well before we do sleeping bag configuration, we have to get all this inside.” Steve cocks a hip, pointing a finger at the group. You’re gaining a much clearer understanding of why he begrudgingly calls himself their babysitter. “So if you shitheads aren’t kidding, grab a box.”

“Aye, aye,” Dustin gives a little salute that Lucas joins in on. The group disperses, Lucas and Max grabbing totes from Steve’s car while Dustin and Mike attempt to brave the recliner in yours.

“Jesus, guys, you’re going to break your backs that way- hold on,” Steve rushes over to Dustin and Mike, already swooping in to help them when they struggle lifting the chair.

Watching them bicker playfully with each other about the best way to get the furniture into the apartment has your chest filling with an aching fondness.

But you have no time to linger in the feeling as Lucas calls out over his shoulder, “Should we take these straight to the kitchen?” and then you’re hurrying inside to show him where to drop the boxes.

—

With the help of your impromptu moving crew, the rest of your and Steve’s things take no time at all. But all of the lifting and moving is still exhausting, which is how all of you end up sprawled across the floor of the living room. You try to cool off in the air circulating from the ceiling fan.

“Yeah, I bet we could totally fit more than six sleeping bags in here,” Dustin muses.

Mike shakes his head. “You’re not accounting for when they get a couch. That could be, like, two sleeping bag spaces gone.”

“Yeah, but then two people could sleep on the couch, you know? No real estate lost,” Lucas points out. The others consider this, eyes focused up on the ceiling, before nodding in agreement.

“Are you guys paying rent now too?” Steve groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes. You roll over a little so he’s within arms length and pat his chest placatingly.

“I’m starving, what do you guys have to eat here?” Dustin lazily pushes on your ankle, the only part of you he can reach from where he’s laying.

You take in the boxes scattered around you and laugh loudly, “Absolutely nothing.” Steve giggles with you.

—

You end up finding two boxes of mac and cheese and a half-eaten bag of candy, squashed in the bottom of a box labeled Kitchen in Steve’s handwriting.

“Only the essentials, right?” You tease, shaking the bag of candy.

“That’s our saving grace right now, I don’t want to hear any backtalk about it.” Steve snaps a dish towel at you as he pulls it from a box and you laugh in delight.

You rummage until you find a pot to cook in, and Steve digs around for bowls and silverware.

Eventually you present your findings to your little house of workers and they let out cheers not befitting of the actual meal you’re giving them.

“A feast for kings,” Dustin praises as he takes a bowl from you. You ruffle his hair in response.

Your scattered belongings get pushed to the edges of the room to make space for everyone. You sit together, making a circle on the floor, and eat your first dinner- scavenged as it may be- in a place that belongs to you and Steve.

You’re listening to the kids argue over something they won’t remember ten minutes from now. You soak up the sounds of having your little family all gathered here, the crinkling of candy wrappers and the quiet scrapes of forks against bowls and the ebbs and flows of their conversation. The apartment is earning the name home.

From where you both sit cross-legged on the floor, Steve bumps his knee against yours. “First meal in our home,” he says, pushing a spoonful of mac and cheese around in his bowl. He grins like it’s a secret. Our home rattles around in your chest, then grows roots and decides to plant itself there.

You kiss his cheek chastely and clink your bowl against his. “Not too shabby for some broke kids.”

“Not too shabby at all,” he agrees. His free hand guides your chin up so he can kiss you properly, a slow drag of his mouth against yours. It’s a lazy, soft thing that promises a million more to come so long as he gets to keep kissing you for right now.

He tastes like home.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #the final girl writes #steve harrington i want to give you the world

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aureatchi · 7 months

Text

.🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ WHAT A SCAREDY CAT ! — nakahara chuuya

“aw, poor baby. movie too scary, doll?” “shut up chuuya.”

a/n. it’s spooky szn !! so of course i need to write something fit for the occasion…so,, why not do it w my fav ginger-haired!

info. fem!reader. fluff. lowercase ✎. profanities. horror movies, drinking, small argument. it gets suggestive sjwsj, neck kissing. wc. 1.9k

“oh, this is so cute.”

you and your lover both shared an eye for aesthetics. that’s why you gazed so proudly at the coffee table in front of you when you stepped back to see the finished product—the rounded table was filled to the curved edges with your favorite takeout meal, bowls of junk sweets to indulge in after, popcorn, two wine glasses, and accompanying of course, a bottle of wine. other than the food, there were two lit candles to set the ambiance of the space, and a jack-o-lantern chuuya had carved himself.

all were organized beside each other to make it look like it came out of a pinterest post.

“i agree,” chuuya replied with a smug smile, also proud of your combined work. he joined you on the side.

you grabbed your digital camera resting on your couch and took a picture of the cozy scene.

“before it all gets ruined,” you chuckled.

chuuya then took the camera, turning the lens towards the both of you.

“let’s take a few together,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pose. you and chuuya were also wearing matching pajamas: black tees and halloween themed pants.

“okay!”

click! click! click!

the trio included a picture of you holding up a heart with your hands as chuuya’s arm encased around you, a picture of you turned towards him with your arms around his neck (you realized the flash was very bright), and one more of you kissing his cheek.

“awh!” you widely grinned as you looked through them, giggling to yourself when you noticed how the camera captured chuuya’s conspicuous blush in the last photo.

“what’chu laughing at?” he asked, looking over your shoulder.

“nothing, it’s just cute,” you replied, putting your camera away. “can we eat now?”

“yeah,” he replied, motioning towards the snug sofa nuzzled with your cushiest of blankets.

you enveloped them around you as chuuya grabbed the remote control to browse movies on the tv.

RANKED #1 HORROR MOVIE THIS YEAR!

“wanna watch this?” chuuya asked, hovering the selection over the movie. “i just realized we’ve never watched a horror movie together.”

“yeah, if you want me screaming and retreating on your lap every five minutes.”

“exactly,” he replied, smirking. “that would be nice⎯”

“too bad. i was joking. i don’t get scared easily.”

you held an opposing smirk back, but in reality, you did get agitated easily, especially when jumpscares were involved. but you felt stubborn and didn’t want to give what chuuya wanted, so you decided to take it on as a challenge.

and he seemed to sense your game too. “better not catch ya lying, doll. there’s consequences for everything.”

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your face heating up, but he gave no answer to your avail. now you really had a challenge.

“…whatever. i don’t need to know anyway. i’m not getting scared.”

“hm,” chuuya said as he clicked on the movie. up popped a screen with the synopsis of the two-hour film, including all of the content warnings.

…murder, blood, sudden jumpscares…

oh shoot.

chuuya pressed play, and immediately, the movie started.

…

the first twenty minutes were actually okay. there hadn’t been anything too much to frighten you yet⎯eerie music, corporate workers, and dark rooms were the only thing you had seen so far.

“damn, when does this good?” chuuya mumbled, finishing eating the last of your main course.

you were glad things hadn’t been intimidating to you so far. but you also knew your lover was awaiting for something to happen, something to cause him to win.

that wasn’t going to happen.

you were snacking on the bucket of popcorn when suddenly, a creepy humanoid creature engulfed the screen, accompanied by a petrifying sound. there was no way to see that coming⎯there was no warning. you couldn’t help but squeal and jump slightly on the couch, the bucket of popcorn following. luckily, it wasn’t so much that it fell and made a mess.

“o-oh shoot! chuuya, i thought i saw a spider!” you said right after the moment passed, turning your head and making it look like you were searching the cushions for a spider. you knew he was watching for your reaction the entire time.

“spider, yeah?” chuuya asked, amused. “nice excuse, sweetheart.”

you crossed your arms. “okay! that was a mild reaction! i didn’t jump on you so that doesn’t count.”

“scared yet?”

“nope!” you popped the p. yet, a shiver went down your spine.

you continued watching the movie. more horror started to seep in, grisly scenes causing unease. you weren’t sure if you preferred those drawn-out sights to the jumpscares, but you could hide your reactions better with the former. you hadn’t seen any more sudden clips yet, thankfully.

“yikes,” you and chuuya said when a corpse got shot multiple times even after they already died and then mutilated.

“i’m opening the wine,” chuuya said about an hour and thirty minutes into the movie.

“alright,” you replied, not opposing. you probably even supported it. maybe if you drank a little, you wouldn’t scare so easy.

especially because you could feel the plot’s climax approaching. you were already suffocating a couple of pillows on your lap in anxiousness.

chuuya poured the glasses and handed one to you. you quietly finished yours quickly so you could have it refilled.

“oh shit!” you shouted when the main character suddenly made a super stupid decision⎯as you probably did too by pretending that you didn’t spooked⎯of course resulting in a chase by the disgusting creature that popped out of nowhere earlier. you clutched the pillows even harder, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. you needed to prove to chuuya you weren’t lying to him.

the wine was not strong enough against the fear-fueled adrenaline that surged through you, paralleling the intensifying background music.

stupid chuuya. he made sure the volume was cinema-loud. it did not help trying to drown out the creepy atmosphere that engulfed the entire room.

the figure suddenly appeared in front of the protagonist with a dramatic scream.

“AHH!” you screamed too, but immediately bit down on your hand right after.

but then it happened again. the main character turned a corner, and it popped up again, even more disturbing than the last time.

“AHHH!”

you screamed again, jumping on chuuya to try and bury your face on his neck. your heart was racing from the images you had seen.

but he had other plans.

“aw, poor baby. movie too scary, doll?”

“shut up chuuya!” you replied, yet you still gripped tightly on his shirt.

but then, chuuya pushed you off of him.

“chuuya!” you tried to climb back on him, but something was preventing you from making contact with his skin.

“…are you using gravity manipulation?!”

“i thought you said you wouldn’t get scared,” he taunted with a smirk. “eyes on the screen, brave girl.”

“you’re so mean!” you shouted, but faced back toward the tv. he had even gone out of his way to use his ability to turn your own words against yourse⎯

“AHHH! WHATTHEFUCK!”

you were already screaming as the creature finally caught the main character, but you weren’t alone as chuuya cursed and pulled you on top of him, horrified.

“DAMMIT. what the hell was THAT?”

“put us down, we’re FLOATING!” you cried. it didn’t help at all that you were both scared and floating above all solid surface, even though it was only about three feet.

“s-shit, sorry!”

he rested the both of you down on the sofa once again. you had missed most of the eerie epilogue, but you didn’t really care when your brain had now conjured a new character for your nightmares.

chuuya poured the last of the bottle’s contents into your glasses and handed you yours. you finished the cherry-red liquid instantly to try to get some relief.

you turned towards chuuya right after to see that he had done the same. and then, you broke out laughing.

the ginger-haired raised an eyebrow and glared back at you as you continued to stare at him and snicker.

“i-i didn’t know YOU were a scaredy cat,” you tried to speak, but it was hard when you were overcome by laughter. your stomach was hurting and your chest was heaving, but you couldn’t stop.

“shut up!” he shouted.

“i-i can’t!” you replied, continuing to laugh. “how ironic⎯it’s one thing for me, but the port mafia executive? getting scared?!”

you were only silenced when chuuya had pulled you on his waist once again.

“if you didn’t think you were in trouble for lying, you definitely are now.”

you immediately stopped, staring into his eyes. you had forgotten about his temper.

“wait, i’m sorry!” but your apology was futile because you were immediately lifted once again but this time, higher and alone.

“put me down, chuuya, i’m sorry!” you screamed, about eleven feet off of the floor. you really hated his ability sometimes.

“why should i?!” he observed you from the couch, trying to grab onto something but stuck inside a sphere of air. he would never try to hurt you, even while he was mad, but currently, his ego had been offended by your words.

“i was joking, chuu! i didn’t actually mean it⎯i promise! i’m sorry, i’ll make it up to you.”

you were slowly lowered, relieved once your legs hit the couch.

“i’m sorry,” he said, quietly after you had made sure you could stand on floor again. “i got carried away, plus you weren’t wrong.” he sighed at the confession.

“it’s okay,” you replied, straddling his lap. “that just makes the two of us scaredy cats. i think that’s cute.” you booped him on the nose.

“but you’re the bigger one,” chuuya provoked.

“no! you are!”

“you are!”

“who’s the one on my lap?” he asked, moving a piece of your hair out of your face as he smirked. “just as she foreshadowed earlier too?”

“shut up,” you replied, but he had gotten you where he wanted in the end. “want a trophy or something?”

“no, you’re just gonna make it up to me now.“

he pulled you closer, and kissed you softly, seeing if your reaction would allow him to continue.

you pulled back. “if this is what i have to do, that’s easy.” you leaned back in and resumed the kiss, lifting your hands to play with chuuya’s hair. you could still taste the wine on his lips⎯it made you feel even more high combined with the tension between you two as he kissed you deeper.

he pulled back for the both of you to catch breath and then spoke.

“you’re funny if you think that’s it, doll.”

he moved one of his hands to move your hair away from your neck and the other to cup your cheek on the opposite side.

he started kissing there, and then, sucking.

“…chuuya?”

“this is for lying to me,” he said, focusing on the spot. once he was done, he moved to another.

“and for making fun of me.” he sucked again, until your neck had two new red marks.

“…keep going.”

“yeah? want more?”

“yes. it helps me not think of that scary murderer in the movie.” chuuya laughed.

“alright, i’ll help take the scaredy cat’s mind off of the things that bring her fear.”

“hey! stop calling me th⎯”

you were silenced as he went back to what he was doing, until your entire neck was filled with shades of red.

reblogs are cherished. <3

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #chuuya fluff #chuuya fanfic #chuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #halloween prompts #aureatchi

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hyperfixated-gvf · 11 months

Text

Stroke Me

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader | Rated Explicit | Words: 6.3k

Warnings: Language, smut, handjobs, edging, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, m. sub kinda

Summary: Danny comes home from tour with a newfound kink and finally gets the chance to try it out with you.

Author's Note: Uhh...so, about a month and a half after I said I would have this to you guys...ta da?

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

The domestic bliss of ‘just home from tour’ was one of the only good things about Danny being gone for so long, so often. Sure, you were grateful that he was doing what he loved with people he loved. Yes, it was cool that he got to see the world and then play for more people who loved him.

But when you were stuck at home at night, unable to call him because of time differences and so, so lonely, you found yourself thinking of days and nights exactly like this one.

You had both woken with the sun, no alarms, and had breakfast in your pajamas. After that? You’d put on a record and cleaned the house up a bit, then spent the rest of the day doing nothing at all, with nowhere to be, no one to talk to about band stuff, and no distractions from simply existing in the same space again.

Now, showered and ready for bed again, Danny approached you from behind as you were shutting a dresser drawer, his strong arms tightening around you as he gently swayed you to an inaudible rhythm. Smiling as you overlaid your hands with his, you willfully relaxed back, turning your head into him to take a deep breath. “Hey, handsome.”

This part of existing in the same space again was another blessing. On most of those lonely nights, you simply wished for him to be there to hold you, for his weight to create the familiar dip in the mattress that, when absent, made you feel like you were sleeping off-kilter. But on some nights…just being in the same time zone to hear his voice rumble through the line and talk you through your loneliness would have been enough.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured in your ear, holding you flush against him.

You were so close that you felt the slight tension in his abdomen that he held when he was a little nervous about something. Squeezing him where you held his forearms, you craned your head to look at him softly. “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t hesitate before nodding. “Yeah…yeah, I was just– I was wondering if maybe you’d be up to try something a little different tonight.”

Already assuming that he meant in bed, all of the filthy possibilities that sprang up in your mind dried your throat out and redistributed the wetness to another part of your body. Nodding enthusiastically, you turned around, cupping Danny’s jaw in your hands as you smiled and teased, “Of course, baby. But, I have to know…my dirty boy didn’t make the TSA agents rummage through chains and whips, did he?”

Danny rolled his eyes playfully, clicking his tongue as he answered, “Damn, you caught me. I knew the rattling in my suitcase would give me away when I got home.”

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him, your lips lingering much longer than you had intended them to. By the time you took them back, Danny’s wide palms were already splayed against your back and inching underneath your pajama top, which you had been fully aware would be taken off immediately when you’d slipped it on, but the act of undressing each other in these early homestay days never got old. “Well, with the way I attacked you as soon as you’d set foot in the doorframe, you could have had a siren going off in there and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

Danny nipped at your cheekbone and led you back towards the bed. “It’s an attack I’ll never grow tired of, believe me.”

Letting Danny scoot you both up towards the bed frame, you trailed a fingertip through the thatch of chest hair he’d been growing, thinking about moving to straddle him fully but deciding the muscle of his thigh was a very nice pressure point for you. “Well, if it’s not chains and whips, what is this new thing, then? You’ve got my full attention.”

“Um…” Danny seemed to grow bashful for a second, and he fiddled with the waistband of your sleep shorts to avoid looking at you. “It’s just something that I– I dunno, found out that I really like this past tour.”

You raised your brows, running through anything glaringly obvious but coming up with nothing, because you’d already watched him jerk himself off (many times, with the help of FaceTime for when you were several states away from each other), and you knew he hadn’t cheated on you. The only other thought that came to mind was anal play, and while the two of you had discussed it before, it wasn’t something he would have begun to experiment with on his own.

“You’ve stumped me.”

Danny put his hand to your hips and used his tour muscle to drag your center up the meat of his thigh and then off. “I’ll show you,” he decided. “Come on– clothes off.”

Giggling at his inability to voice his newfound kink, you did as he said, taking off your own clothes this time and biting your lip when you found Danny laid bare before you after your shirt was gone. The man was far too pretty for his own good, and every time he allowed you to see him like this, you fell more in love.

“My god, you’re sexy,” you whistled appreciatively, and Danny cracked a grin as he pawed your ass.

“Takes one to know one.” Both of you huffed out a laugh at your cheesy banter, but you soon fell serious as Danny took himself in hand, captivating your full attention. After a few seconds, he met your eyes briefly. “You wanna come and get me wet, pretty baby?” he sighed, his words firmly setting the mood as he tilted his head back to rest on the headboard and he tugged his cock slowly, still dry and frictious.

“Anything for you.” Instead of reaching for the lube in the nightstand drawer, you stroked the creases of his hips and centered yourself so that you had a bird’s-eye view of his movement before allowing some saliva to drip down.

Bullseye.

Danny hummed gratefully and worked it under his palm, stroking himself to full-mast quickly. Waiting for further direction, you let him touch himself quietly, the slicker sounds of his precum introduced soon after he worked up a firm tug, the skin of his cock pulling with each stroke of his hand.

“This is what I did,” he said tightly, one leg twitching as he picked up his pace. You began to wonder what this new thing was, but even just watching while he was within your reach was enough to make you reach down and stick your thumb out so that you could grind your clit against it subtly, not wanting to distract Danny from whatever he wanted to do. “Every night, Y/N, I couldn’t help but think about you. I thought I’d be blind by the end of tour.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, trying not to imagine your boyfriend masturbating furiously over the tour bus toilet under the guise of a nightly piss so that the others wouldn’t have to hear anything. He’d admitted before that all four boys knew in the back of their heads that the others were doing the five-finger shuffle on the bus every so often – if only because they themselves were, too – but they’d all chosen to invest in higher-quality privacy curtains that blocked out more noise and had agreed early on that the bluetooth speaker playing sleep sounds stayed on all night for courtesy’s sake.

“Well, we already know that it’s true when they say your other senses heighten when one is taken away. Imagine the fun we could have if you did,” you rasped, unable to keep your eyes off the way his tip peeked through the hole at the top of his fist, his head wet and shiny. In no world were blowjobs the most enticing thing in the world, but Danny somehow made your mouth water every time like a Pavlovian dog.

At this point, you were getting ready to push his hand aside and have your way with him, not willing to wait until he recovered, because that was the direction he was aiming for– at least, from what his body was telling you– but as soon as you decided ‘too much, I need to touch,’ Danny abruptly let himself go and flattened his palm out on the mattress as his toes curled and thighs flexed.

“Oh god,” he hissed, voice cracking as his eyes fluttered closed. The way his dick was jumping said that just a little bit more would have pushed him over the edge, and you were only too happy to get him there. You’d have to specify later what was so new about this, but right now, you had laser focus on your boyfriend’s hard cock, honing in and intending to hear him cry out your name. But, as your hand was reaching for him, Danny peeled his eyes open and caught your wrist, preventing you from obtaining your prize. “No! Wait, wait, if you touch me, I’ll cum.”

You cocked a brow at him and hesitantly shuffled forward. “Yeah, I know. Did…you want to cum inside of me or something?” That could have been what he was talking about, since it was something you’d only just begun letting him do more now that you were on a new form of birth control.

But he shook his head again, even as his dick twitched at the offer. “No. I don’t…want to cum yet. I actually wanna do it again.”

Finally, it clicked, and you could have kicked yourself for being so oblivious. Edging. He’d figured out that he liked to edge himself on tour.

You met his eyes, heavy with his lust and now with yours as well, and you knew that he could see the understanding. With a big breath at your silent, encouraging nod, Danny took himself back in hand and started to pump once more.

“Here, let me make it a little easier.” As you leaned forward as you had before, you slid your hands further up his thighs, so close to his groin that his right hand hit your wrist on every downstroke.

He groaned as your spit hit the head of his cock again. “Thanks, baby,” he croaked.

While you were sorely tempted to join him and begin touching yourself, you wanted this to be about him, since Danny obviously had an idea of how he wanted the night to go down. So, you stayed glued to him, but let him direct the scene, which was all entirely fine by you. That meant you were free to appreciate him – the way he blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep his eyes open, the way he took in sharp breaths when he began climbing up the ledge again, the scrunch of his knee, as if his entire body was trying to protect itself from the impending denial.

It was less abrupt this time. Danny didn’t seem to be at his peak when he stopped stroking himself, but he gulped and fixed you with his eyes, pupils so dark and dilated that you felt the call of the void to fall into them and never come out. “Want a turn?” he rumbled, voice deep and gritty with arousal.

“Hell yes,” you answered quickly, moving in to kiss him fervently before scooting in closer and placing a hand high on his thigh, scraping lightly with your nails and watching him shudder beneath your touch. “I’ve done this enough that I have faith in my ability to know when you’re close,” you told him with a small smile as you laid out your plan for Danny’s approval. You wanted him to have the greatest edging experience of his life, if that was what he wanted – he deserved everything, and you were willing to spoil him often because he did the same to you. “But do you still want to be the one to tell me when to stop? Think you can handle that?”

Danny groaned lowly, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off any premature notions his body might have entertained at the thought that this was real and happening and it was you doing it instead of himself. At least, that’s what you assumed, because you were feeling the exact same way.

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he agreed breathlessly. “You can go ahead and start touching me; I’m good for now.”

God, that was an understatement. He was phenomenal. Hard and thick in your hand when you gave him one last kiss and then wrapped your fingers around him, his pronounced ridge glided along your palm as you stroked him – up, down, up, twist, thumb across his slit. Danny looked so serene as you pumped his cock in your hand, his fingers flexing against the sheets and his ragged breaths the only indicators that you were jerking him off until you leaned closer to him, running your fingers up his midsection and chest lovingly.

You hummed, feeling warm skin, tense muscle, and eventually goosebumps as you stroked across his shoulder and down his arm. The double, rather paradoxical sensations sent Danny’s hips careening in your touch, the tip of his dick peeking from the space in your fist, which was drying out at an alarming rate, and with such a dry mouth as you had, you didn’t have much spit left to give.

“Baby,” you said softly, loosening up your grip, “I’m gonna grab the lube, okay?”

Danny nodded, watching you stretch to the nightstand drawer to retrieve the tube you two kept there. As you slicked your fist up with the substance, he lazily ran his thumb up his cock, stroking lightly just underneath the head.

You tilted your head as you used one hand to stabilize yourself and help get you back to your spot at his side, where he took his hand away so that you could give him a quick stroke up to coat his skin. “How did you figure out you like this?” you asked softly, a small quirk of your lips playing at the corners of your mouth as he reacted to your subtle start – a harder, faster pace than you’d previously been stroking him with.

Danny’s jaw twitched, but you watched as he consciously relaxed most of his body. “I told you – felt like I was jerking off more nights than not, and then, one night, I just…didn’t want to stop thinking about you. Every night that I thought about you while I got myself off, I didn’t want to stop,” he sighed, gently rolling his hips into you again. With the way his dick kept twitching and leaking every so often, you were anticipating his breathy, ‘stop,’ any second now. “Just when I thought I was getting to the good part of the fantasy, you’d do something even better, and I didn’t want it to end.” His voice was strained and his words were fast, as if he were trying to squeeze them out before a timer went off and his window to tell you evaporated.

Keeping the pace up, you bent down to roll your tongue over his nipple before looking up at him. “Am I doing ‘fantasy me’ justice?”

Instead of using his words, Danny’s stomach clenched and he shot up, tightly grabbing your wrist and halting all movement as his face screwed up and he fought with his own body not to fuck into your hand again. “Yes! Yes, I– shit–shit, I was…that was close,” he said tightly, trying to reign himself in.

You knew that, and you’d have taken him across the finish line if he hadn’t backtracked right at the last moment.

Once your hand was a safe distance away from him, Danny flopped back onto the pillows and blew out a shaky breath. “I don’t think I have enough imagination to think up a fantasy that could be better than having you here,” he said, taking your non-lubed up hand in his.

You snorted gently, blushing in the low light of the lamps, but still affectionately said, “You big cheeseball.”

Mesmerized with the way his stomach tensed and his chest heaved with his little chuckle, you put your mouth to his skin and hummed all the way up his throat, finally able to mark it up without him texting you that the makeup team harumphed at him again because of it. Danny quickly pulled your mouth to his, drinking from you desperately, and fumbled for your hand, wrapping his around when he found it, and brought both of you back to his cock, apparently already rearing to be touched once more.

“Together this time,” he murmured against your lips.

To you, there was no losing, no matter which way you did it. But this way, you still felt the warm, velvety skin of his dick in your hand along with his own firm palm guiding you up and down again all while trading wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses and listening to Danny’s breath hitch and catch. It was an interesting change – it faintly registered in your foggy mind that feeling Danny’s own pace and rhythm was a learning opportunity, but you were far too distracted to actually learn anything.

Even under his complementary grip, you had your free will to do anything you wanted, and you took advantage of that after a few minutes, tightening your grip and making his thighs contract unconsciously as you pulled at him for one rough stroke.

“God, baby,” he hissed between clenched teeth, brows pulled in and eyes shut tight at your rough handling of precious goods. “Oh fuck…fuck, Y/N, you gotta warn me next time.”

“Mm. I know you can take it, don’t lie to me,” you teased. You had an intimate knowledge of Danny’s kinks and limits, including that he liked it just a tad bit rough sometimes, and you highly suspected the only reason he was chastising you was because he didn’t want the game to be over quite yet.

He let out what was more of a wheeze as you kept pumping your hand up and down his cock, still steadily leaking as he got closer. You switched to a flat-handed rub that allowed your fingertips to trace and tickle the sensitive skin of his balls, and he was soon squirming and kicking, pushing shakily at your hand. “Stop! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna– I’m…” his babble petered out into a low, tortured groan as you gave him reprieve from your touch, and he was left with nothing.

“Do you want to keep going?” you asked softly, wanting to check in on how he was feeling. He looked painfully hard right now, and you’d never seen his cock move so much on its own, jumping around on his stomach and leaving sticky trails of lube and precum that dotted the neat line of hair there. The rest of his body was rather shiny, as well, a light sheen of sweat reflecting dully in the lamplight and making him glow beautifully.

This was hot – so hot – but the last thing you wanted to do was push him past his limits. Sadism wasn’t something you were particularly keen on, and the way his hand shook slightly as he groped for any part of your body that he could reach sure began to feel like it. You were hungry for his release – salivating over it now that it was being denied.

Danny finally caught your forearm, and stroked his thumb across it just to feel your skin under his. “Fuck, yes. This is the hottest thing and I’m not quite done with it yet,” he promised, both to you and himself. “Slowly now.” At his command, you returned your hand to his dick, but you only glided down his shaft once before he tensed and flinched away. “Wait–” You stopped in your tracks and shifted your eyes from your hand to his eyes, brows raised expectantly. He sluggishly blinked his own open and sheepishly huffed, “My bad, I…wasn’t as ready as I thought I was.”

His admission made you clench, mind wandering to what would have happened if you would have kept stroking him once, twice, three more times before you registered his time-out – the way his eyes would have scrunched shut, and his tongue would have peeked out from between his teeth, and his hips would have bucked, your name on his lips between each desperate, choked moan as he came, hot and viscous, across your hand and himself because he couldn’t stop it–

“Okay, I think I’m ready this time. Slow. Very slow.”

Realizing that you’d been staring blankly at his lips while you got ahead of yourself, Danny’s words shook you out of the daydream, returning you to the present where Danny was waiting for you to lavish him with attention again.

“Like this?” you asked demurely, teasingly dragging your fingertips up his shaft at a snail’s pace. Danny’s expression twitched, and you could feel a twitch from his dick that echoed it. “This slow enough? Light enough? Come on, Danny, tell me how you want it,” you implored, wanting him to lose it – you wanted him to grip your hand and keep it there as he fucked into your fist to completion, wanted him to bat it out of the way so that he could sloppily finish himself off, wanted him to beg you to bring him past his peak or take it forcefully.

Danny took a deep, grounding breath, and recollected himself despite your instigations, though, and met your heavy gaze with his own. How he was coherent at this point, you weren’t sure – had it been you in his situation, you were certain that you’d have been begging for release before this point, but…perhaps that was a hypothesis to be explored later.

“You want me to tell you? I thought you said you’d know,” he answered languidly, still fighting to retain his composure just as he was fighting to retain his pleasure. “But I can, if that’s what you want.” He hummed and wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, tugging you down for another deep kiss before lowly murmuring into your ear, “God knows you’ve entertained me enough tonight. Don’t move your hand until I tell you to, this time. You can have your power back after that, you megalomaniac.”

The tables had flipped so suddenly, but it didn’t stop you from wiggling down to place a quick kiss on his sternum, looking up at him from behind your lashes and saying, “You go on tour with the Kiszkas and come back a thesaurus, huh?”

Danny quirked his lips up lightly, but he wasn’t about to let the moment fade. “Worry about that later; wrap that pretty little fist around me now, Y/N. I can only take so much teasing.”

His double-entendre would have made you laugh if you weren’t busy doing what he said, wondering if he would really let you take over completely the next time. All you had to do was edge him once more, and then you might have a shot at your prize. “My apologies,” you murmured, “let me make it up to you.”

Danny settled back into the cushions and watched you wait. “Thank you,” he said, cheek present even under the thick layer of gritty lust and desire. “Now be a good girl and stroke me.”

“Of course, rockstar.” You gave him one pump up to the tip of his cock, and then a twist back down, but that was all. Danny’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Stroke.”

Again, the same way. You saw his hips twitch and gave him another stroke without prompt, but he peeked his eyes open to glare at you, so you swallowed your smile and let your hand rest loose at his base.

“Stroke.” This time, you revisited that proclivity for a bit of rough treatment, and squeezed a bit harder when your fist enclosed his tip, and he grunted as you backed off and went back down to sit and wait. “Again, Y/N– just like that...uh-huh.”

His pleasure came out in a hiccup as you gave him another tight stroke and then squeezed lightly at his base, feeling his balls contract against your pinkie.

“Stroke.”

His voice was constricted, and you could tell he wanted more. It must have been hell, creeping along like he was and only getting one stroke at a time – it certainly made you reconsider whether sadism and masochism had a place in your bedroom if Danny really liked it this much. His face was scrunched up in pleasure and desperation as you gave him another stroke, and as you brought your hand back down his shaft, he bucked up into your grasp and stilled as another bead of precum appeared at his tip.

You thought that would be it, but apparently, Danny was looking to push his boundaries this time. “Stroke.”

Half-expecting him to erupt in your hand, you did as you were told, and Danny just about nearly whimpered at your touch .

“Stop,” he said, his voice not as strong this time and quivering slightly at the end.

It wouldn’t be long now. Each time, his recovery period had been getting longer and the time your hand actually spent on his dick, shorter. He was approaching his orgasm faster and faster, as if his body was revolting against the treatment and attempting to overthrow his wishes, and you were confident that he would willingly go over the edge this time.

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest when you placed your palm to it a minute later, and you knocked your forehead against his, as sweaty as he was. “About done, or do you wanna take it further?” He swallowed harshly and hesitated, and your own heartbeat picked up in excitement.

“Couple more.”

You kissed him and began dragging your body down his. “I’m gonna use my mouth this time. Do you think you can handle that, baby?”

Danny chased your lips and watched heavily as you settled between his legs, adoration shining in his gaze. “I can handle you. Give me your worst.”

With a smirk at his challenge, you gently pulled the skin of his balls between your lips, laving your tongue over the area before letting it pop out. You followed the move with a quick shot upwards, sucking your boyfriend’s cock down in one fell swoop.

Danny hissed above you, big hand coming to rest on the back of your head as you bobbed, fast and mercilessly. “Fuck me, I knew I shouldn’t have – ah– said that,” he grunted, gently taking your head between his palms in a silent request. You slowed to a stop, acquiescing to his desire, and he braced himself on the bed before gently fucking himself into your mouth, breathing heavily and letting a stream of curses and praises tumble from his mouth with every exhale.

“Goddamn, baby– you’re so, so good to me. Such a good girl for me and– ah…got the best fucking mouth I’ve ever had–” He twitched violently between your lips, so hard it engaged your gag reflex, and he quickly pulled you off of him.

Your eyes were still watering as you watched him clutch his spit-shined erection in his hand with a vice grip, trying to simulate a cock-ring to not allow himself to cum just yet – but he had to be close to breaking.

“Jesus Christ, Danny,” you panted, leaning over his groin to avoid hitting anything too volatile. You took his other hand and shoved it between your legs, pressing his fingers through the mess there without regard to how his body would react. He groaned shakily and tightened his grip on his cock even more, sinking two fingers into you since they were already there. “Your resolve is unreal.”

He looked at you with hooded, hazy eyes, distractedly glancing down to where he was drawing out explicitly wet noises from you. “Not anymore. Take me all the way, baby.”

Your chest swelled with euphoria with his permission and you kissed him, dragging your tongue across his for a second before pulling away. “I was starting to think that I was going to spontaneously finish before you would let yourself cum..”

“Yeah?” Danny asked, crooking his fingers inside of you to make sure you knew that if you were going to cum, it wouldn’t be spontaneous. “You need some lovin’ too, pretty baby, don’t ya?” He bit his lip and guided his hand with you when you straddled his legs so that they could remain tucking inside, not knowing what you were going to finish him off with. “What about this? Think you might wanna be next?” His words were lazy and he was leaving off parts of his sentences in favor of taking deep breaths.

Your teeth clamped together to hold back a rather embarrassing mewl as his thumb danced around your clit lightly, tickling it just enough to have your hips chasing after his touch but not enough to give you any real relief. It just pushed you higher, made you wetter, and gave you more reason to make Danny cum within an inch of his sanity now.

Gripping his wrist and pulling away from his torturous touch, you guided it up to his mouth where he slipped his two fingers between his lips. “Like it?” Danny gazed expectantly at you as he sucked harshly on your digits, making sure they were all clean when you pulled them away. “God, rockstar, I can’t believe we never tried this sooner.”

Danny’s cock twitched against his stomach, and you had to stop yourself from answering its call. Looking back to Danny’s face, he had his gaze fixated on you, eyelids fluttering yet trained on you still. “You or me?”

“Both,” you answered lowly. “I think you’d have fun torturing me like this.”

Danny closed his eyes and let out a breathy grunt, deep from the back of his throat. “Then that makes two of us.”

That, however, was a discussion for another night. Right now, you had a different mission, and you slid your hand down the expanse of his heaving chest and stomach, your thumb grazing the line of his oblique that led down to your prize before taking him lightly in hand and rubbing a thumb just underneath the head to watch him tense up and squirm. “How do you wanna cum, Danny? This is your night.”

He wasted no time in answering, having already known what he wanted. “I want you to choose. Surprise me.”

You bit your lip, mulling over the options you had at hand. Quite literally, since Danny had gingerly relinquished his cock to your mercy. You could watch him as you brought him to the edge with your hand but, this time, take him over. Or, you could pin his hips to the bed and tell him not to move this time while you tasted his relief. Maybe he’d appreciate being nestled between your lips, helping you grind on him like you were teenagers until he made a mess all over your belly and his.

You wanted to do it all. God, you wanted to, but the last remaining option was just too damn tempting with how your body wept to be filled. “It might be fun,” you murmured, mostly to yourself as you slid up into his lap and listened to Danny gasp as your wet cunt finally came into contact with his dick, “wouldn’t take much at all, actually, to line you up, slide you in nice and slow, snug and safe inside of me, if only for a second…”

“Y/N,” Danny bleated, his cock quickly becoming wetter with his precum, a sure sign of impending release. He never said anything else, though, and you wondered if he knew whether he was begging for release or begging you to not to make him cum just like this, sitting so close to your body, where he desperately wanted to take his relief.

“I could watch you fall apart like that,” you said, snapping your fingers as you gripped the base of his dick in your hand. Your pinky was able to reach down and stroke the side of his balls, and you swallowed heavily, another wave of arousal making you even wetter as you felt just how firm and heavy they were.

He was so damn close, and holding the power was once again making you reconsider your thoughts on sadism of the pleasurable kind.

Just to heighten the anticipation, you lifted your leg over one of his and took your weight off of his hips, instead opting to press your core to the meat of his thigh and begin to ride it like you would his cock. Immediately, his hand found your hip, pushing and pulling in tandem to get you a better rhythm. “I could straddle you,” you whispered in his ear, finding pleasure in the friction to your clit. “Get you nice and wet, then warm you up. And you could cum inside me. Do you want to cum like that?”

Danny let out a broken moan. “Yes, Y/N, please. I can’t– my brain is barely functioning right now, I need to cum.”

Just talking about it made your pussy ache. Like a phantom with Danny’s cock had come up behind you, you could practically feel the stretch, the shared warmth between the two of you, the dull pressure of your walls attempting to close around him and keep him there forever.

You fished for his hand on your hip and led it down to where you were furiously getting off on your previous choice of skin and placed his fingers just where you needed them, using him to climb up to your own peak while holding Danny steady in your hand. You did want to cum together. But you were going to need a little bit of help to get as close as you knew he was.

“Atta girl,” Danny praised, voice shaky and soft, yet uncomplaining about his own denial. “Use me however you want to. Just– fuck, baby, just make me cum with you.”

“Close your eyes, then,” you huffed, becoming out of breath from the work you were putting in. After months away, physical sex was much more tiring than using your toys, but you and Danny were training hard to increase your stamina. Hard and often, these days.

He did as you asked, and right as you felt like everything balled up inside of you was going to explode, you made good on your words and threw your other leg over him, not giving any warning before you sank down on him and continued your ride with just as much intensity, pace unfaltering even as he cried out in surprise and fucked up into you.

Danny’s eyes flew open, and you whined pitifully as his body took over at the sudden constriction of heat and wetness, bruising your hips in his grip and using his planted feet to crush your hips together each time you came down.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god– fuck!” he yelled, head thrown back into the pillows as his back arched and he held you down with all of the strength left in his body, making sure you wouldn’t get away as he pumped himself once more into you.

You felt it all – the warmth flooding into your body, each burst seeming like it would never end; you’d be just as happy watching Danny’s face contort as it was forever, but your own orgasm took precedence over keeping your eyes open enough to see the show. “Danny, Danny–” His name was cut off by mewls and yips and a case of the shakes that slapped your thighs against his as your muscles contracted and milked Danny for all he was worth.

When all was said and done, and you were still poised on locked elbows looming over Danny as he soothingly ran his hands over the curves of your hips and waist and belly as you both caught your breath in relative silence, breathing soft nothings into the space between you.

“I love you.”

“So good to me.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m so glad you’re home so that we could do that in person,” you whispered into his neck, having finally lowered yourself for more skin contact.

Danny tightened his arms, wrapped and tangled like tentacles around you. “I’m glad that I am, too,” he whispered back into your hair. “It’s my favorite place to be. Right here.”

You giggled. “Inside of me?”

His lips curved up against your temple and one of his hands reached down to grope your ass, unintentionally pushing you against him where he was still buried. “I mean…that too. Let me be romantic, will you?”

Sighing contentedly, you brought your hand up to the back of his head, gently rubbing a spot at the base of his skull that you knew made him purr like a kitten. You just wanted your hands on him, keeping him within your reach now that you could have him there.

“Alright, alright.” Knowing that he needed it too, you shifted to allow your hand to join your other at the back of his head, gazing lovingly down at him. He had hooded eyes, belying his sleepiness, but it didn’t stop him from smiling up at you softly, humming when you gave him an eskimo kiss before resting your forehead against his. “You’re my favorite place, too, you know,” you said, just in case he needed to be reminded again. “And I’m really, really, glad that you’re home.”

~~~

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