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#me being happy in my own little world yet again

vivwritesfics · 7 months

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Mini Me

With how shitty my life is rn, I keep having these depressive episodes. Turns out my depressive episodes breed fluff

Max's six year old son has just started karting and his wife has to take him. Boy oh boy, does he miss his wife and son.

"So, Max, can we expect to see your little one around the paddock today?"

Ever since the day he was born, Fabian Verstappen had been seen with his parents around the Formula One paddock. He was always smiling and waving at those he knew and those he didn't. Fabian Verstappen was the happiest boy around.

Max was very proud of his boy. He showed him off to whoever he could. When he was young, he sat on Max's hip while he completed interviews and such.

Fabian was Max's number one supporter (Tied only by Max's wife and Fabians mother, Y/N. She followed him around the world three times before agreeing to marry him. It was a year long engagement, and in that time Y/N found out she was pregnant. They managed to keep it hidden until after their wedding, although Y/N did have to get a dress that better fit her bump).

There was a year between Fabian being born and him being able to attend his first race. Christian was happy to get him fitted out in Red bull Racing merchandise. He got his own little hat and a too large Red bull shirt with a thirty three on it (Max had lost that years championship. Red bull had won the constructors but Max had just missed out on the WDC. Red bull had worked out the kinks in the car and Max was bound to win this year, just as he had the previous year).

This year was the first year Fabian and Y/N weren't there to cheer Max on. And interviewers certainly picked up on it.

"Uh, no," Max answered when they asked about Fabian. "He and my wife are at a karting event right now."

The interviewer gave him a nod. "Following in your footsteps perhaps?"

Letting out a laugh, Max nodded his head. "We can only hope," he said.

"Do you think we'll be seeing him in a Red bull Racing suit in the next fifteen years?"

Again, Max nodded his head. "If he's anything like his dad, he'll be in a Red bull Racing suit before that," he said and adjusted the cap on his head.

Max left the interview and checked his phone. As much as he wanted Fabian and Y/N at his race, he knew how important karting was to his son.

Max has always been Fabian's hero. His first full sentence was 'I wanna be like daddy'. Max and Y/N did whatever they could to make Fabian's dream come true.

The one thing Fabian wanted but he couldn't have was to have his daddy at his karting races, watching him. There had been a lot of screaming and crying while Max and Y/N tried to explain to him why his father couldn't be there.

But Fabian had made friends at his Karting matches. He and the other kids he had raced against got along like peas in a pod. Fabian's first ever play date was with his karting friends. Some of them had been sat with their eyes and mouths wide open while Max brought them juice. They couldn't believe he, their hero and favourite driver, was Fabian's dad.

Max pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Nothing from his wife yet, but Fabian's race should have been done, he realised when he checked the time.

Dialling her number, Max pressed his phone to his ear.

It took Y/N a moment to pick up. "Hey handsome," she said in a chipper voice when she picked up the phone. Her voice was distant and slightly distorted, and Max realised she was in the car.

"Hello, Liefje. How's our little racer?" He asked her.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Came Fabian's voice. "I won! I won! I won!" He shouted.

Well, that answered Max's question. His cheeks were warm as he smiled, listening to his son. "Ik ben zo trots op je, mijn jongen. Ik kan niet wachten om jullie twee weer te zien!" (I'm so proud of you, my boy. I can't wait to see you too again!)

There was a moment before Fabian responded. He was fluent in English and French, but he was only good at Dutch. It still took him some time before he could work out what Max was saying and respond.

"Papa, ik... heb een... trofee." (Daddy, I got a trophy.)

There was a certain sense of joy that filled Max whenever Fabian answered him in Dutch. "Fabi, make sure mommy sends me a picture of your trophy," he said.

"I will do, Maxy," Y/N responded for the little boy. "Fabi, what do we say to papa?"

Again, Fabian was quiet for a moment. "Oh!" He suddenly cried from the back of the car. "Good luck with your race, Papa! Maybe you can win like me!"

The Verstappens laughed.

"Good luck, Max. Call me after you've won."

"I will, Liefje. I love you."

"I love you too."

Max hung up the phone after that. He his qualifying to get ready for. As he got ready, though, he spent the entire time thinking about his wife and son. He checked his phone constantly, waiting for Y/N to send over the picture of Fabian and his trophy.

No father had ever been prouder of his little boy than Max. Fabian was his everything and he couldn't wait to see him in the big leagues. Who knows, maybe Max would still be racing alongside him. Maybe he'd have Horner's job, team principle of Red bull Racing while his son raced as their number one driver.

No matter what, Max would always be Fabian's number one supporter.

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isaacthedruid · 9 months

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(spoilers for the Barbie movie)

As a trans-masc non-binary person, I saw myself in Allan. I’m a boy but not a Ken, I'm Ken-like but not quite.

Allan’s role of being awkward, unsure and a little out of his element but still trying to help the Barbies through the chaos and events caused by the Kens, is how I feel as a trans-masc person who is still trying to advocate for women and discuss the issues they face.

I don't identify as a woman anymore but I still grew up as a girl, I lived as a young woman for 14 years, and people continue to be misogynistic towards me when they think I am one-- customers will talk to my male coworkers instead of me, when I’m the person with the answers

I wasn’t expecting to see myself, in terms of gender, in the character often described as Ken’s boyfriend, though it is said in a more playful, joking way rather than any attempt at representation. I’m gay and this version of Allan is definitely queer as well. Yet, that’s a separate story which has already been written, here’s an excellent article about that. [LINK]

Allan isn’t Ken, and he isn’t Barbie either. Allan is simply Allan, an idea with both masc and femme traits. He doesn’t fit into anything specific, he just is. Allan can wear Ken’s clothes but also Barbie’s pink jumpsuit-- but when he's not doing that undercover mission with the Barbies, we only ever see him wearing his own clothes. A set of clothes worn only by him, that iconic striped outfit that is signature to the real Allan doll.

Additionally, notice the horse patch on the front of his shirt, he never changed his clothes unlike the rest of the Kens when they discovered the patriarchy and a new version of masculinity, a toxic and destructive one. Allan only added something to his clothes to “fit in” or act as if he did, but he hated what the Kens did to Barbieland. He also wasn't brainwashed and never acted upon those destructive abilities that were laid out for him. He could've just joined the Kens and broke stuff and drank copious amounts of "brewskis" but he didn't.

Allan is different and it's constantly stated, "there's only one Allan" in this world of Kens (and Barbies).

I will never be Ken nor will I ever be a Barbie again, I’m not happy in either. I’ve tried both, neither is my style (or title). I wear Ken’s clothes as well as Barbie’s, and sometimes I wear Allan’s.

But, I like Allan’s clothes best, they fit me well.

#barbie movie spoilers #barbie movie #barbie #barbie movie allan #allan barbie #transgender #queer #non binary #trans masc

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bettysupremacy · 3 months

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hii! I was wondering if you could write a fic with reader and any marauder (they all fit) and maybe helping or becoming protective over the reader after a concert or party after a creep follows the reader? 😭

I went through a similar experience with a guy following me around after I went to the restroom after a concert, and it ruined my night if i'm being honest, I was scared 😞 I'm not the most shy of people and usually I can handle myself but it was pretty dark and idk the adrenaline from feeling happy to scared shifted pretty quickly. Luckily I found my friends and let them know and we quickly went back to our car (along with a few dirty looks from my friends god bless lol). I swore I could go to the restroom by myself- will not be doing that again :(

you can ignore this request if it makes you uncomfortable!

thank uu

i’m so sorry that happened to you! “(they all fit)”= poly marauders!

There’s something about post concert depression, especially when you’re with the band.

Your glitter eyeshadow is smudged, eyeliner untouched. You’d been shaken around in the pit of your boyfriends fans, and yet the paint hasn’t budged. God bless water-proof makeup. The world seems prettier like this, touched by alcohol and the feeling of soaring pride for your boyfriends. The glittery lights and signs of time square never fail to dazzle you, even now as you lean against Sirius morosely.

“M’hungry.” You frown, toes tipping up towards Sirius, though you fear the mumble may have been more for yourself.

His attention is diverted towards the boys as they discuss what to do now. Plans of how to get home and where to eat. His finger taps your cheek slowly, his focus paying you no mind. Words like Uber, hotel, room service echo throughout their very repetitive conversation.

“Sirius.”

He looks down, a little shocked and sorry at his own attention. “Yes, lovely?”

“M’hungry.”

“Hungry?” He asks, cringing. You’re about thirty minutes from the hotel, and even then, room service will take another thirty.

“So hungry.”

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

“There’s a hotdog stand over there.” You grab his tattooed bicep to balance yourself as you point to your right.

He thinks, peering down at you. “This won’t ruin your dinner?” It’s midnight, but still.

“No,” you sing, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I really want a hotdog.

He flushes, looking away from your wandering eyes. Normally he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. They would never let you out of their sight in a place like this. But the cart is in eye view of the boys, and he has faith in you not to stray, even in your inebriated manor. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just prefer to keep you safe themselves. Is that okay?

“Okay,” He murmurs, pulling out his wallet, handing you his card. “At least get the good toppings.”

“I always get the good toppings.” You pull away.

The walk is short and the cart is colorful. Red and white stripes, curvy calligraphy. It shines in your inebriated vision. Beautiful. The queues not long, just an older man waiting in front of you, but it feels like forever as the generous man (with the toppings as well) takes your order and wraps it in warm aluminum foil.

You take the hotdog eagerly. “Thank you.”

It’s heavy in your hands, warm too. You yell Sirius’ name excitedly, waving the hotdog above your head for him to see. He laughs, thumbs up until you bump into a man, smile fading, concern etching his brows.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he smiles. It’s uncomfortable, not the smile of a friendly civilian.

You laugh. It’s polite, anyone can see that, but he leans closer. He smells like liquor, a disgusting discovery that has you subconsciously leaning away.

“You new around here?”

An actual laugh stumbles out of your lips. “London? No.”

He takes this as an entrance. “You should show me around.”

“No, thank you.” You try to walk past him. Towards Sirius who’s already walking over. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, pulling you back. His fingers dig into your elbow painfully.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, pulling your arm away roughly. “don’t touch me.”

“C’mon,” The man slurs, fingers reaching for you again. “Don’t be-“

“Hello?” Sirius walks up, all stock. He grabs your forearm pulling you to him firmly, getting in between you and the man. He’s not much taller, but more intimidating in demeanor. “Do we have a problem?”

“No,” the man scoffs.

“Cause it looks like you put your hands on her.”

He scoffs again, clearly inebriated. “We were just talking.”

“Well, conversations over now.”

“She can make her own decisions.”

“Fuck off, bro.” Sirius waves his hand dismissively. Quickly, he walks you towards the boys who are peeking their eyes up from the Uber app.

“She was asking for it.”

Sirius reels back, dropping your forearm to shove the scary stranger in the chest. He pushes hard, the man losing his balance as he falls to the ground in a sickening thud. You gasp loudly, the unexpected conflict startling you. Vaguely you hear Sirius say something to him, but you’re too focused on the way the man looks up at you.

James and Remus are there in seconds, quick on Sirius’s heels. They pull at him, up and off the man. There were no real punches thrown, no real injuring blows, it wasn’t even enough to form a crowd. But still, you’re shaken. You shiver like a leaf under your James’ leather jacket, suddenly not feeling the warmth of the alcohol you’d consumed before the concert.

Slowly, you stumble back and way from your boys, to the bench next to the shitty bar you’d passed on your way home. That had been scary, but you’re safe; that had been scary, but Sirius dealt with it. You bring your hand up to your chest, setting the hotdog you had been eager to buy down next to you.

“Hi,” Remus pushes aside the hotdog to sit next to you. “Are you okay?”

You look up to the boy, blindingly beautiful in the streetlights and advertisements. “Yes.”

He pushes some stray hair from your face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think it was more startling.” James sits on the other side of you, kissing your temple firmly. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“She’s okay.” Sirius gruffs from where he walks over.

He sounds cooler than he thinks he looks. He’s not bruised, bloodied, or bandaged, if he were he thinks he’d look cool enough to breeze over. But then again you look mad, so maybe he doesn’t want that.

“Don’t be upset,” Sirius crouches to your level. You’re in the arms of a solid Remus. “he was a creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He laughs roguishly. “I thought I looked good tousled.”

He does, and you know he’ll look good on the tabloids tomorrow too. Sirius black gives black eye? You sigh at the thought.

“You do.” James feeds Sirius.

“At least someone in this relationship cares for my ego.”

“You look good.”

“Oh, now you tell me.”

You laugh, letting Sirius stare at you like you hung the moon.

“Kiss em?” He pushes his knuckles in front of your lips. His fingers throb lightly, you can feel it on your lips.

“That was stupid.”

“C’mon,” Sirius’ eyes roll as he pulls you up. “You’ve got a hotdog to eat.”

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 6 months

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Can you please write more of the shy series ??💗💗💗

I love it so much

Celebrate With You - LN (Shy Series)

Ofc I can write more for this series. It's my favourite series to write for and if anyone wants to request for it, I'm more than happy to write more.

Warnings: mentions of sex but no actual sex

Summary: Getting more attention as the public and media try to push to see and, more specifically, hear more from y/n. Lando decides that after initial celebrations with the team for the Qatar race. He wants to just celebrate with y/n. Especially after such a tough weekend.

Lando loves celebrating with the team, but he completely lost y/n in the shouting and singing of victory. He knows she's somewhere, because she wouldn't leave without him. But he knows she's hiding herself from spotlight thanks to fans and media really trying to push her into it.

It's not that she hates it or is backing out, but after seeing herself mid-race on the broadcast. It's safe to say she maybe feels exposed enough for today. In fact maybe enough for the whole week or month.

Choosing not to draw more attention to her by trying to find her an inevitably being asked what he's looking for. Lando texts her to locate her.

Lando: Where are you bby? xxxx

Y/n: I'm on the track xxxx

Now that was not where he expected her to be but he walks up to the pit wall fence and looks through one of the emergency gaps before spotting her and jumping through.

"Baby?" Lando calls out making her turn from where she's sitting in the P10. "What you doing out here on your own?"

"Just...thinking what it must be like." Y/n states with a small smile before he sits down behind her so she's between his legs with her back to his chest. "I didn't think anyone would notice I wasn't there."

"I always notice when you're not there baby, you're quiet but you're really the only one I really want there more than anyone else." Lando chuckles moving her hair to kiss her neck. "Are you ok, baby?"

"It's a little more overwhelming being your girlfriend than I expected." Y/n admits softly while moving her hands down to almost tighten his arms around her. "I wouldn't change anything for the world, but I guess I just never thought about how much attention I'd really get."

Lando sighs knowing that it took him a while to come to terms with getting so much attention. Sure he still gets significantly more than her, but it does seem that her shy personality makes the rest of the world even more eager to see her as much as they can. There's not really much he can do to protect her from it either.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, Lando. It's not a bad thing, it's just...different to how I thought things would go." Y/n frowns turning around to look at her boyfriend. "You should be celebrating with the team."

"I'm celebrating with you and that's more than enough for me." Lando assures her while she looks at him for a moment. "Don't try and argue with me about it."

"I won't." Y/n smiles lightly while turning her head away from him. "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too." Lando grins as she laughs a little feeling his arms tighten around her as he attacked her in kisses yet again. "I love you so much too. So so so so much."

"Lando!" Y/n giggles almost trying to fight him but really she's relishing in the moment and in his attention. "Seriously, we should go celebration with everyone."

"Or we can head back to the hotel and celebrate on our own?" Lando offers while she feels heat burn up her chest and neck to her face. It's not as if the two of them aren't always having sex. But it being suggested in a location that could even slightly be overheard makes her want to disappear from sight immediately. "You act as if we've never had sex."

"No, I don't. I just...don't think it needs to be discussed in a place other people can hear about it." Y/n pouts making him hum before he kisses her neck again, this time a little heavier and with a lot more clear intention. "L-Lando."

He laughs a little knowing that she isn't whining for him to stop, but just to relocate them somewhere which holds less risk of being seen. He gets up before pulling her to her feet and guiding them over to the pit lane where they it's mostly cleared out. Though he does notice one of the photographers eyeing them and a gut feeling tells him that their private moment may not have been as private as they both thought. But he doesn't mention it to y/n because he's sure she'd look sad about it while insisting that it doesn't bother her.

They do say bye to the team that they pass and she congratulates Oscar again for his P2. Then they leave, getting out the paddock nearly so late it's early and it's safe to say they're exhausted.

Maybe sex can wait till the morning.

After all that race pushed drivers not only to the limit but past the limit and Lando almost definitely needs rest. Actually all the drivers need an IV drip for hydration and probably a full medical check just to make sure their internal organs weren't boiled in the the race.

Maybe as expected, Lando gets a message asking if McLaren can post the video of the two of them. He gets to see the video which is a moment that he decides he wants kept for the two of them really, but he does allow them one of the photos taken of the moment that he sits down behind her as the post. Then demands he's sent a copy of the video.

"What you doing?" Y/n asks after finishing her skincare following their shower together, which mainly consisted of them washing each other but the tiredness stopped Lando from really initiating anything.

"They caught our celebration on the track on camera. Just asking if they could post it but I said no. They're just posting a picture of us sitting together instead. I kind of want to keep the rest between us." Lando sighs as she lies down next to him with a small sigh.

"You know you don't have to protect me."

"I'm not protecting you. I'm selfishly keeping you to myself." Lando declares while she smiles lightly at him.

"Just because other people are paying attention to me, doesn't mean I'm paying attention to anyone else but you." Y/n states softly before being launched on in an attack of kisses all over her face. "How do you still have any energy left? I wasn't even in the car and I'm exhausted."

"I owe you...you really got me through the weekend. I was getting in my own head and you pull out the best of me like you always do. Even if I wouldn't listen to you on Friday."

"You're allowed to have bad days, baby...you're human even if the media or people online want to act as if you aren't. You are the best person I know, and I love you for more than just one reason. For the record, not one of the reasons has anything to do with your job or your career." Y/n assures him before reaching her hand up to cup his face. "I think you're perfect. Your family and friends think you're perfect, although if we asked Max he might deny it. We're the only people that matter. Everyone else is just a background character in your life that you'll either forget exists or not have to worry about in a few years."

Y/n might be shy and usually not talk much even when it's just the two of them. But when she finds the courage to use her words to really send a message home for Lando, she doesn't waste the energy.

"Fucking hell, I love you so much. Marry me. Have our kids. Retire with me. Never leave me." Lando groans while she smiles and laughs gently pushing him away.

"We're too young to think about any of that. How about we just focus on the here and now? Primarily sleeping and travelling for F1, and you really focus on the last few races. Especially Austin since it is a sprint again."

"You have the best ideas."

"Thanks."

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #Lando Norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

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earthtooz · 10 months

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x : CHANGE YOUR MIND ! :*+ﾟ

in which: it's 2 am and itoshi sae is outside your door, hoping for a second chance.

warnings: 1.2k words, angst to fluff with hurt/comfort, happy ending, exes to lovers, not at all realistic but it's itoshi sae ok and we're delusional, ooc!sae

a/n: second second chance romance fic for sae LOL he's just too easy to write for when it comes to exes to lovers. idk why the banner is so low quality but enjoy!

you wonder where itoshi sae finds the nerve. after breaking up with you six months ago ‘for the sake of his career’, you never thought sae would have the gall to show up at your apartment, let alone at 2am, rudely disrupting your sleep.

yet, here he is. a soccer prodigy and superstar in the flesh, standing under the harsh lighting of your apartment hallway that always casts an ugly glow on everyone except sae.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, gripping the door handle a little tighter.

“i just got off the plane,” he answers, evading your question.

“i know. i can see your suitcases.”

he doesn’t say anything more after that. before the breakup, you were able to read the untouchable itoshi sae, translating his stiff silences into words he could never say but wholeheartedly mean, breaking through his ego to then understand the messages of his heart. he only hopes that you can interpret the one he’s brought to you right now.

“can i come in?” asks the athlete, his question shy and lacking the usual demand that sits in his tone.

still, you furrow your eyebrows and stand your ground. “why on earth would i let you in?”

softness is a weapon that itoshi sae owns. he knows that with his typical hardened exterior the best way he can get through people sometimes is with pliability. even you have fallen for it.

he frowns, “because i’m tired and i want to sleep.”

“don’t you have your own five star hotel that your manager booked for you?”

“can i just come in?”

the nerve. “itoshi, please leave.”

“i will, i will, but will you hear me out first?”

“what could you possibly have to say that you didn’t befo-”

“-i love you.”

the world stills.

the air around you becomes delicate and you’re too scared to breathe in fear of disrupting the silence, but it feels like the floor beneath you just crumbled and you’re falling through the debris. you’re falling and the only thing you can do is search for sae in the chaos.

but you don’t hold on to him. no, not this time.

“that’s not fair, that’s not fair at all, sae, you can’t-” a sob tears your words apart, “-you can’t break my heart then come back six months later to tell me that you apparently love me, do you know how hard it was for me to just- ugh!”

in a fit of exasperation, you leave your post at the door and retreat back into your apartment. sae quietly slips through the crack you left open, closing the door with a soft click and you don’t even have the energy to chase him out. he even left his suitcases outside- not that anyone would take them at 4 in the morning.

“you left me so abruptly and carelessly. we were together for almost a year, sae, yet you threw me aside, called me a burden and moved on with a snap of your fingers! was it easy? moving on like that?”

instead of flinching at your yelling, sae simply stands at the entrance and accepts it, letting your words prick his skin and sink into him as if would make up for the pain you’ve been bathing in.

“do you know what that did to me?” your voice is quiet now, turned down a few notches.

he knows. he knows that you’ve been trying to get over it and not let the breakup impact your life too much, despite what he did. you’ve been going out with friends, treating yourself to everything you deserve, and finding a peace that he’s proud of you for. but sae also knows about the many nights you’ve spent crying and being sensitive to loving again, he hears about all of it from rin who lectured him when he first broke up with you and most likely, will lecture him again when he hears about sae’s unplanned visit.

sae was stupid and naive, but you were the first person he ever loved, and the world is colourless without your splash of influence.

sae knows he shouldn’t be here existing in your space after everything, however, the instant he stepped off the plane, the first thing his heart wanted was to see one of the few things he loves about japan, you.

“-so, please, just leave me alone and don’t come back,” you request.

the last thing sae is good at is following instructions, especially ones he doesn’t like.

“but, i love you,” he tries again. you fall to the couch with a defeated sigh, his persistence impaling your heart.

“stop it.”

somehow, he’s now standing beside you. “do you still love me too?”

“sae-”

“-if you don’t love me anymore i’ll leave.”

with your head in your hands, you lie to him, “i don’t want you to stay either way.”

“another chance, i’ll make it right, i’ll fix it with my life, y/n, just please say you love me too.”

“you’ll hurt me again.”

“i won’t,” he falls down onto the couch beside you, enveloping you with his frame. “i’ll be good and you can kill me if i’m not.”

you laugh. it’s dry and reserved, but you’re laughing and he begins rocking you side to side. “i don’t want to kill you.”

“rin will, then.”

you take your face out of your hands, looking at him properly for the first time since he arrived. “i-i don’t know, sae. you’ll leave again when you decide that you don’t want me.”

he doesn’t know how to tell you that whilst abroad, all he could think about was you. that during the mundane chores, the tedious trips to and from training, and all the times that he had won a match, he was thinking about you.

he thought about you in the music he played whilst cleaning, he thought about taking you to a restaurant he saw whilst on the way, and his thoughts about you are loudest when he has a medal around his neck yet all he wants to know is whether or not you’re watching.

but you’re not beside him singing along whilst he was mopping his floors, you weren’t there in his car pointing out every fun detail you saw, and he didn’t even know if you wanted anything to do with soccer after what him.

everytime, the yearning for you would grow, to the point that it lead him here when he should have gone to the hotel to wash up and sleep off the tiring trip instead.

but sitting here now and looking at your tear-stained face, he knows he’ll always prefer you- he’ll always find and choose you, so long as you let him.

“give me another chance,” and i’ll show you that i’ll never leave again.

“fine,” you surrender after a moment of silence and sae feels like he could jump to the moon. “but we take things slow-”

“-i love you,” he repeats, grabbing your face and pushing you down on the couch, peppering an endless stream of kisses on your skin. sae’s outburst of affection and happiness is uncharacteristic but contagious. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

between each declaration is sae kissing a new part of your face, showering your cheeks, forehead, nose- everywhere with unbridled adoration that he has been keeping locked up for too long. you’re real between his hands, you’re real in his hold, you’re real beneath him, and he doesn’t want this dream to end. his kisses feel like healing promises and you melt right into them.

“i get it!” you giggle out, hands on his shoulders as to wrestle him off. “you don’t need to keep telling me, and promise me that we’re going to take it slow-”

a cold tear slides down your cheek, silencing your giggles. it’s not you who’s crying though, so you hug sae a little tighter.

something tells you that this second chance won’t backfire.

#sae x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock

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nathaslosthershit · 1 month

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Unremarkable (LN4)

(Part 2 of the Blind Items series)

Summary: Blind Items returns again to ruin yet another happy couple's peace. This time, Lando Norris and his ‘unremarkable’ girlfriend.

“Lando, have you seen this?” his girlfriend asked, showing him the tweets. When they had soft launched, she got a small dose of what it would be like to be the WAG of Lando Norris. But even when they hadn’t known anything about her, some people still had been so mean. Now that they knew she had a ‘commoner’ job, they had started tearing her to shreds. ‘How could someone so rich and famous go for such a plain girl’ was what so many people had said.

“Oscar showed it to me today. I am so sorry, honey, I was hoping that you wouldn’t have seen it. Those people are absolute asses, love.” He probably should have said something earlier but he knew how hard she would take it. While she had joked in the past about the differences in their jobs, especially the pay, he knew she felt insecure about it at times.

“The thing is, I didn’t see it. Not at first. I only saw it when I heard one of my students talking about it in class today. Can you even imagine how humiliating that was for me? Hearing my own students who I have done nothing but be kind and understanding to, trying to get them to love learning, talk about how awful it is their favorite driver is dating someone as boring as a teacher.” She couldn’t stop the tears as she went on about the situation. He wouldn’t understand, he couldn’t. She knew Lando had his moments of insecurity but nothing like this. At the end of the day, he still had hundreds upon thousands of fans who loved him immensely.

Even if he couldn’t fully understand, it still broke his heart seeing how much it hurt her. Sure, he hadn’t ever thought he would date a school teacher either, but that was mostly due to his previous lack of appreciation for school. But being with her has changed that. His girlfriend could always make things interesting. She loved to spout history facts on vacation and it always made him so deliriously happy to see how giddy she was to learn new things.

Seeing her now though, so visibly upset made him realize this wasn’t something that could slide easily. His PR team might not love it but he wasn’t going to just sit there and let her feel terrible about herself.

“I’ll fix this, I promise.” He said quickly as he left. He shouldn’t have left her alone and crying, but he was fuming and decided he needed that anger to let his message out.

landonorris

Liked by oscarpiastri and 153,137 others

landonorris I don’t know who this gossip page thinks they are but the last thing I will tolerate is someone hiding behind a screen telling the entire world that my girlfriend, who I love more than life itself, is ‘dull’ and ‘unremarkable’ because of her job. This is a woman who is smarter than 99% of the people I have ever interacted with, someone who spends so much of their time trying, and succeeding, to get kids to love learning. Even as someone who didn’t appreciate school as much as they should have, I would never have once thought school teachers were any of the negative things you have said. Luckily, here I am, happy with my amazing girlfriend who deserves the entire world, and I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to give it to her.

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A few minutes later she came into the room, tears still staining her cheeks.

“Thank you Lando” she said as he motioned for her to sit on his lap.

“I can say more if you want? I definitely think I could have cursed them out mor-” He was cut off with a kiss. The sheer force of it caused them to bump heads a little, which then caused them to break apart giggling. “I’m serious about what I said. I don’t know what I did to get someone as wonderful as you but I am not going to let some assholes on the internet make you upset over something so incredible. You should be proud of what you do and I will forever work to remind you of how amazing you are.”

“I love you, Lando” was all she replied.

“I love you more”

“Please can we not play this game you know I love-”

“Nope, la-la-la-la I can’t hear you over the sound of me loving you soooo much” He said as he covered his ears.

Such a dork, she thought.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

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wordsinhaled · 7 months

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“I need you” isn’t “I love you,” and it isn’t “Yes, let’s go off together,” but the thing is, it might as well be. And it might be one of the more honest things Aziraphale has ever said.

He has never said it aloud before now. Not like this, with eons worth of raucous indignant feeling crawling up into his throat. He had not wanted, not expected to say it like this, mocked by his own stricken reflection in Crowley's sunglasses, each lens a dark mirror.

"I—I need you," says Aziraphale, and his voice breaks down the middle. It might as well, for he's confessed too late. Crowley is shut to him, recedes from him like a wave broken on the terrible bedrock of Aziraphale's futile stubbornness.

And still, even like this, Aziraphale needs him.

His presence, his constancy. His unfailing, tenacious friendship.

Crowley’s kindness, his softness, his solicitousness under the prickly façade Aziraphale sees is just that—a layer that can be so easily peeled away to reveal the deep core of caring beneath, too entrenched to be deserved by any world they could live in. He needs Crowley’s unguarded gaze, needs the way Crowley’s forever looking at him across distances when he thinks Aziraphale doesn’t notice: chin tilted up, eyes soft as marigold petals.

A phone call away whenever anything or nothing at all happens is Crowley’s dear voice; his lovely dry humor; his sauntering, slithering, improbable walk despite which he somehow flawlessly falls into step alongside Aziraphale anywhere and all the time. His hip knocking against Aziraphale’s, casual as anything and yet so much more than. Flashes of black and wisps of red flitting in and out of Aziraphale’s periphery for thousands of years.

He needs their circuitous arguments, their winding ethical debates—after most of which they somehow end up on the same side, that is, their own side, terrifying and exhilarating in its Promethean familiarity—and Crowley’s chaotically-sure moral compass. The times Crowley is braver than Aziraphale could ever be; and the times Crowley reminds him of how brave he actually always has been.

And Aziraphale needs even the great big awful rows, the ones that end in their standing on opposite verges of another chasm of their own making. Because the culmination of such a fight is always the meeting again in the middle. It’s the low sweeping bow of their apology, a ritual not half earnest for all its facetiousness, which says so much without either of them having to utter a word. Crowley holds a whole conversation in the dip of his fiery head and the exaggerated flutter of his elegant wrists, when it’s his turn; and, when it’s Aziraphale’s, the hashing-out of differences is there in the way he executes each familiar movement with the practiced ease of a faithful courtier, though it’s been ages since he stood in any king’s court.

He needs the knowledge that they always forgive each other. Because, well, they do. They must. They will. What’s a spat or a quarrel or even a proper falling-out to two beings like them, to him and Crowley?

Aziraphale needs Crowley’s happiness. His truest happiness. If that isn't the crux of it all, what is?

He remembers the ancient light of Crowley's joy, how it had shone once about both of them like an aura through the blackness of undeveloped space. It never left, all that bright, barely reined-in giddiness, all that frenetic energy, but he's transmuted it, magpie-like, into something else. Aziraphale can sense it whenever Crowley brings him a new vintage record to add to his collection. Whenever Crowley pulls out Aziraphale’s chair for him outside Marguerite's, or orders just what he likes for him at the Ritz. Whenever he drops into the shop unannounced with a little box tucked under his arm, full of gorgeous petits fours from the new bakery Aziraphale hasn’t yet tried, and says, gleeful, Ohhh, you wouldn’t believe all the wiling I had to do to get my hands on these, angel. You’ll have to thwart me for this, I know. But first—no, no, no, first! The only sensible thing for you to do would be to try them… you’ll like the pear macaron...

And of course Crowley is right. He's right about most things, isn't he, after all? Because Crowley knows him, and he needs to be known, but it simply wouldn't do for anyone else to be the one doing the knowing.

Aziraphale likes the pear macaron, just as Crowley knew he would.

He likes all the things that come along with Crowley, really. The fast car, oh yes, sleek and stylishly classic and so very Crowley through and through, though Aziraphale has committed staunchly to grousing about it. The way no companionable silence held in Crowley's company is ever truly silent. The jaunts to the park on seasonable days: Crowley's touch lingering where he pours frozen peas for the ducks into Aziraphale's cupped palm; the fondness in Crowley's tone poorly disguised as he points out his favorite mated pair trawling placidly across the pond. The drinking together long past the small hours of the morning in the back room of the bookshop, where the walls are the same warm ochre shade as Crowley’s eyes.

It isn't ever so much about the drinking as it is about the together bit. How the space between them dwindles with the syrupy passage of time. How Crowley softens and melts into the settee. How he becomes Aziraphale's to watch, for once. How he grows so wondrously relaxed and gloriously at home there in Aziraphale's space that Aziraphale begins to wonder if this will at last be the night Crowley does not, eventually, get up and retreat back to his Bentley to take himself away again...

There is always that fragile little moment, right after sobering up, when everything in their universe seems at the same time to be entirely too set in stone and entirely too much as though it all hangs by one delicate, dissembling thread. Always the split second in which Aziraphale looks into Crowley's guileless face and remembers he could unravel everything with a single tug.

Yes, one sharp tug on the lapels of Crowley's jacket would do it, he knows. How easily it could be done... Tumble the two of them into one another, just then, and they would never be parted again. And his deft-tongued Crowley would lick the heat and the aftertaste of Talisker into Aziraphale's mouth, then, before it had the chance to dissipate completely.

He could. He could.

It's in those stretched milliseconds, brimming with a tender longing so acute it tips right over into an agony, that Aziraphale realizes: I do need all of you, darling, don't I? So terribly much it might unmake me one day. Never mind Aziraphale's most fickle and blustering attempts at denial, he knows this to be true as he knows the truth of little else in the cosmos.

And perhaps today is that day—the day Aziraphale will dissolve and be remade in the permanent shape of lack.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #don't mind me just thinking about aziraphale all alone up in heaven without any distractions missing crowley

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adventuringblind · 2 months

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Morning Kisses

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Spicy fluff

Summary: Max can't help but worship the girl wrapped in his arms the second he wakes up

Warnings: sleepy make out, implied smut, praise, body worship, Max being a simp

Notes: request for @ashiekins I hope you like it! This one made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Side Note: This is to make up for my crimes yesterday... I hope I've redeemed myself!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The morning rays of Monaco shine through the small openings that the curtains don't cover. The quiet hum of the city waking can be heard outside the apartment. The soft lapping of waves mingling with the buzz causes Max to forget this isn't a dream.

The girl in his arms is still breathing evenly. Her hair cast over her face, obscuring Max's view of her. He slowly moves his arm up to move the stray pieces away. The light hitting her skin gives her an ethereal glow that he can't get enough of.

Max could die a happy man in this moment. The definition of beauty and perfection is sharing his bed. Though, she would beg to differ. The insecurity the world has placed on her has made Max's compliments seem to bounce off a bullet proof vest.

His lips find their way to her shoulder. The spot left unmarked from their activities the previous night tempts him. He'd hate to disturb her sleep, but-

The intrusive thought gets the better of him as he sucks her skin between his teeth. She sighs in content, pulling his arms ever closer to her. "You could just ask, you know."

"Where is the fun in that?"

She turns to face him. Max loses himself in her beauty. His mouth hangs open like he's a teenage boy again; like it's his first time seeing her like this despite it being the thousandth.

"What's got you in shock this early?" She chuckles at his childish expression.

"I have the most beautiful goddess of a woman in my bed. Am I not allowed to gawk?" Max nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. The stubble of his chin tickles her skin and causes her to giggle.

She pulls away, but only a little. His face now cupped in her hands. Max is only a man - a weak one, at that. Her lips are too tempting. How could he deny himself the pleasure of kissing her?

His lips meet hers in the gentlest way possible. He'd hate to ruin this intimate moment with the clashing of teeth.

Her body melts against his as their lips move in sync. It's magical, the way the mold to each other. A dance they know by heart, yet every time feels like the first.

He playfully smiles against her lips. Dumbfounded that this is his life; that he managed to find someone he loves with all his heart and soul. The fingers that trail against the canvas of her body make her hum against him.

His palm comes to rest against her chest. The feel of her heartbeat, one that beats in tandem with his own, causes his own mind to blank. It's a soft, calm, and steady beat that lulls him into an even more relaxed state.

Max would spend his entire life worshipping her body. The one sculpted by Greek gods and blessed with the personality that makes him fall to his knees every time she speaks.

Max trails kisses everywhere he can reach without moving too much. An attempt to bless his lips with feeling every inch of her skin. Something he'll do for as long as she lets him.

When his eyes finally meet hers again, she's staring at him with adoration. The infinite and undeniable love she holds for him shown in her eyes.

"You are truly the love of my life, Max Emilian."

"And I will spend eternity showing you that I am worth of your affections."

It's her turn to smirk at him. "Maybe eternity should start now, then?"

Max chuckles and puts himself to work. The two descend into the mess of sheets and giggle with giddy feelings as the pickup where they left off the previous night.

If this is Max's eternity, if his forever gets to be with her, he'll never ask for anything else.

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voonroo · 2 months

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Hell? [01]

⌐‣Hazbin Hotel + Bat-Like Teen Reader

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

Want to chat? Check out my discord server↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: YOOOOO SHOUT OUT TO @blueberrymuffin-6 FOR BEING THE FIRST PERSON TO GUESS THAT READER WOULD BE LIKE A BAT!!! I'm so happy someone picked up on my hints. I'm really excited to post this chapter considering how much love the first one got😭 THANK YOU GUYS SM FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT THE HAZBIN FANDOM HAS SHOWN FOR MY TEEN READER WRITINGS💝

Also I can't guarantee that there won't be triggering subjects in the future chapters!! There's nothing of that here yet and I will put warning when needed but you’ll only find something this chapter if you REALLY look.

I'd love to hear from you guys your speculations as well!! Send them through my inbox or contact me in discord!! I love interacting with you guys!!

My head hurts…

Am I lying down?

Is it raining?

Opening your eyes, you were met with a dull light to your right, everything else was dark. Rubbing your eyes, you groggily sat up.

You could see, but the light to your right was actually making it hard… You felt a light weight on your head and slight pain in your back. You looked down, you had… fur?

Taking deep breaths, you closed your eyes. You could hear everything so well. From the sound of your heart, to the rain outside.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

Considering that you couldn't remember anything, you felt strangely calm. Like a blanket was over your head and you were blocking out the world around you.

The rain was nice… soft blankets, a plushie? What was it...? It was dark? I had a flashlight, a book? And whatever the plushie was…

A sudden knock interrupted your thoughts. The noise caught you so off guard you physically jumped, you tried to look at the door as you heard the knob turning.

“Oh! You're awake!” You heard a quick patter of footsteps coming in your direction, before a blob entered your vision- or what little vision you had anyway. You couldn't make out the shape in front of you, even with your eyes wide open. There was… red? Or maybe pink? You couldn't tell. Your eyes darted around, and your breathing picked up.

“Hey now- You're all tense! What are you anyways?” The blog had a cheery voice, rather high-pitched. It hurt your ears. You could feel a small hand grab at your arm- rubbing the fur.

“Nifty!” Another sudden noise made you jump. Your body tensing up in a panic. You couldn't hear the rain anymore even if it was so close… You could only hear your heart beating quickly and your uneven breathing.

Then, there were hands cupping your face, a calm, quiet voice accompanying it.

“Hey, calm down.” On instinct, you took a deep breath. Were you holding your breath before? Or were you breathing too rapidly? Where were you again? Sitting up right? Wait- it's raining… that's right… it's raining.

“Are you okay?” The voice to the hands cupping your cheeks spoke again. You could barely focus your eyes enough to see more than just gray. Did the voice have a… wait- the voice asked me a question-

“I-I can't see…” You almost didn't recognize your own voice. It came out so quietly, hardly audible.

You could have sworn you saw the gray blob furrow their eyebrows.

“What's your name?”

“I don't… I don't know?”

The calm the voice was deemed Vaggie.

Vaggie described herself as having long grey hair, grey skin- which you initially found weird- and a pink X over her left eye.

Vaggie told you that the loud, almost squeaky voice that you first heard was Nifty. She also told you where you were and what had happened for you to be here.

You had previously run into one of their friends named… Angel Dust? And apparently, passed out? Then he brought you here, and… here is… I don't remember…

You do remember Vaggie telling you that there were other people here and they were made aware of your existence as well.

Vaggie was also kind enough to explain that you were in hell… she also took the creative liberties in describing to you what you looked like.

“Well… You did take on the appearance of a bat- which is normal, it's normal for people to take on animal-like appearances in hell. For instance, we have someone here who takes on deer antlers and someone who has fur like you but looks like a cat… But you have these ears above your head, small wing protruding from your back, and… foggy eyes-”

The two of you spent time making the connections. The big bat-like ears atop your head gave you really good hearing, and the wings on your back were the cause of your back pain, (and the fact that you had been lying on them) and your foggy eyes contributed to your lack of sight. You took on the appearance of a bat.

The two of you tried to answer Vaggie’s earlier question from before about your name, but to no avail. She had to force you to stop trying to figure it out when you started getting worked up. You did come to the conclusion that you were very young- at least very young to be in hell. Guessing that you were around 15 years of age. Maybe a little younger or maybe a little older, but it felt right enough.

Or maybe you guys had settled on that answer as you dozed back off. The rain hadn't let up and with all this new information to really process, Vaggie let you rest. The clock was growing near to striking morning anyways.

Word Count: 817

A/N: I've also made the tag #voonroo’s bat-like reader for you guys to use as well if you make any posts on it!!

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peaches-creek · 3 months

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“What if they don’t like me.” You say.

“They have begged me for months for a day like this, do not worry my love.”

“So, what if they finally meet me and they-“

“They will love you, just as I do.” He interrupts.

As you walk up the stone walkway leading into Konig’s childhood home, you can’t help but feel insecure. You have been dating for a little over a year, and have a small apartment off base together. You haven’t met them yet due to busy work schedules. Though you did feel as though you were putting it off, you couldn’t help but felt as time passed that they must resent you, keeping their son away from them for so long. You walk up to the door and Konig gives three loud knocks to the white-painted wooden door.

Now you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but with the way Konig explained his mother, you would’ve thought she was a tiny old lady. He had said his parents were a bit older, having him in their late thirties, making them around 65-70 years old. He mentioned two siblings, a brother who lives in the states, and a younger sister who lives at home. His father and mother owned a bakery in town, right near a church. He worked there when he was a teenager.

Anyways, as the door opens, you have to look up to greet her. She had to be about 6’2, with grayish blonde hair, and just the right amount of wrinkles that tell you she has lived a happy life.

“Hallo! You must be the girl I hear so much about. Come in, come in, we have so much to show you.” She greets, guiding you inside, she seems like one of the nicest women you have ever met, she looks young for her age.

The house is beautiful, everything looks handcrafted. Then you see his father and realize Konig gets his height from his mother, his father couldn’t be only taller than 5’8

“How do you like your tea?” He asks.

“Milk and sugar please.”

For the next hour, you will see countless albums of baby Konig, kid Konig, and even awkward phase Konig. All so adorable and dorky. His mother is nothing but kind, asking you questions about yourself and seeming genuinely interested. His father is more quiet, but he has this kind smile that just rests on his face, you can see it as he catches up with his son. It was a wonderful afternoon.

“So you two live together?” His mother asks. Konig and his father were outside, talking about their garden.

“Just a small apartment off base, not too far from here actually.” You say.

“That’s nice, it seems very serious between you two.”

“Well it is to me, your son means the world to me.”

“That’s a very refreshing thing to say to a mother you know,” she starts, “I was always so worried about him, He is very hard on himself, I was even more worried when he joined the military.”

“He is very good at his job I hope you know, I worry as well but he is very diligent and precise.” You soothe

The front door jingles as if a key were being used. In walks in a woman, about the same size as your boyfriend. About 6’9, same red hair, and same sweet smile.

“Hello.” You greet.

“Ah, it’s very nice to meet you.” She says giving your hand a firm shake. She sits down at the table right across from you.

“Yes, I agree.” You say.

“So how did you to meet?”

“We met through work, I’m a medic.”

“Yes, I met her when she had to give me a few stitches,” Konig interrupts, walking back inside, “She was very gentle compared to the rest of the medics that work there.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You say.

“I disagree, anyways she didn’t actually talk to me until we were on a job, She had to reset my knee, again very gentle.”

“As gentle as a person can be while pushing a bone back into its place.”

“You seem very accident prone, my son.” His father adds.

“Yes, he is, I think he does it on purpose.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Konig says.

“When did you get the courage to ask her out.” His sister asks.

“She had to ask, I was very nervous and backed down many times. She asked if I liked tea, to which I said yes, and then she asked if we could go get some the following morning, I said yes.”

“Very romantic.” His mother gushes.

The afternoon turns to evening and it’s time to go back to your apartment.

“It was very nice to meet you all, I don’t know why I was so nervous, you guys are so lovely.”

“Come back anytime, I can teach you how to bake strudel.” His mother offers.

“I would really like that.”

You exchange goodbyes and get into Konig’s truck.

“Wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He points out.

“No, it was awesome Your family is so kind, I see where you get it from.”

He grins, and continues driving.

What you didn’t know, was that his mother slipped his grandmothers ring in his hand before you guys left.

#cod x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig headcanons #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig fluff #cod #konig mw2 #konig x gender neutral reader #konig x oc #cod headcanons #cod imagine

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planet-marz1 · 3 months

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my little love

post-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel welcome your baby girl into the world warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. no use of y/n, references to childbirth (non graphic), pregnancy, established relationship, reader does not have a specified age, no descriptions of reader's physical appearance, mentions of child loss (brief, non-descriptive), minor angst wc: ~750 a/n: After taking a very long (unintentional) break from writing, I was able to get this sweet little oneshot completeted after what felt like an eternity. It's meant to take place in the Our Little Sheep universe, but it can be read as a standalone. Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading! baby name inspired by my lovely em @catchallfangirl (she bullied me into it shh)

| main masterlist | ao3 link | updates blog |

A girl.

Your little girl.

Any self-doubt of your capabilities is immediately washed away the moment you lay your eyes on your daughter. Ten little fingers, ten little toes.

She’s absolutely perfect.

A wave of joy and relief washes over the room as you and Joel share a glance of sheer happiness. You reach out, your arms trembling with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration, as the midwife carefully places your daughter in your embrace.

With a delicate touch, you cradle your daughter against your chest, feeling the weight of her tiny, perfect body in your arms. The room falls away, and time seems to pause as you marvel at the miracle of new life. Tears of joy stream down your cheeks as you look into her eyes, meeting the gaze of the little one you've carried for months.

Joel, equally captivated, leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning his attention to your daughter. As you cradle your daughter against your chest, a flood of emotions surges through you.

She has Joel’s eyes, but everything else about her appearance is all you. Every moment you spend looking at her is like staring back at your own reflection. You can’t help but fall in love with her. Brown eyes staring up at you, a pair you’ve fallen in love with once before.

“I can't believe she's here,” you whisper, your voice catching with a mixture of exhaustion and elation.

Joel sits beside the tub, sharing in your emotional moment and stroking your arm gently, but he’s quiet. More than usual. You glance up at him, and his eyes are starting to glisten with tears.

He’s brought back in time decades in the past. To the first time he laid eyes on her. Soft dark brown curls, and big brown eyes staring back at him. Little baby Sarah. The name he and Sarah’s mom had settled on last minute after months of going back and forth. Scared would be an understatement for his emotions. This tiny little human being, suddenly relying on him for everything. Love, affection, comfort, protection, guidance. The list goes on and seems insurmountable. He’s so young.

He can’t help but feel guilty for his life now. All the time that’s passed since that fateful night that he witnessed his daughter take her last breath. Now he sits next to you, watching yet another little soul who will rely on him for everything, be brought into this world.

He doesn’t want to fuck it up this time. He can’t. He won’t be able to forgive himself this time if he fails again.

“She's perfect, just like her mom," he manages to choke, his voice filled with admiration and love.

Your daughter, swaddled in soft blankets, nestles closer to your chest, finding comfort in the familiar sound of your heartbeat. Her presence is a miracle that unfolds in every breath, every tiny movement, and every flutter of her eyelids.

You can’t believe she’s yours. You and Joel combined into one tiny little human being.

As you hold her close, you become acutely aware of the weight of responsibility mingled with the sheer joy of parenthood. The fragility of her life, nestled in your arms, is a reminder of the trust and love that will shape your journey together.

You find solace in the gentle rhythm of your daughter's breaths. The tiny fingers that grasp onto yours create a connection that transcends the physical.

You, still teary-eyed, glance at Joel, and together you share a silent acknowledgment of the depth of the love that has brought you to this moment.

“What should we name her?” you ask quietly.

How exactly do you pick out a name? Something that will define someone, and follow them around for their entire life. You had given Joel several suggestions, all of which he quickly turned down, and any of the names he had suggested you couldn’t stand at all.

He shrugs, while stroking your arm gently. “You went through all the hard work of getting her here. Figure s'only fair if you pick her name.”

You glance down at the squirming newborn in your arms. “How about Emilie?”

“Emilie?”

You look back up at him and nod. “It’s simple, sweet.”

He smiles, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Emilie it is, then.”

You both know this journey won’t be easy, but you wouldn’t want to navigate it with anyone other than each other.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @honeyedmiller @bastardmandennis @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @alwaysmicado @cherubispunk @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @vee-bees-blog @josephquinnswhore @worhols @bluebeary-jay @pamasaur

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months

Text

golden boy

�� honey flavour: Steve’s always been sweet with you. You’re determined to make a deviant of him yet.

🐝 the bees: Steve Harrington x Reader

wc: 2.2k

cw: soft!dom Steve origins, blowjob, throatpie, hair pulling (no physical desc of R besides hair being long enough to grab), R has breasts and a V

foreword: basically Han of @stevenose and anons talked about corrupting Steve Harrington into being more dominant and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. this one goes out to the freak nasties!!!

Steve is your golden boy.

Through years of friendship that spilled over into romance that settled into a happy partnership, Steve has been nothing but kind, patient, loyal, and sweet to you. His warm aura is a comfort nothing else in this world can compare.

In bed, he’s near-saintly: checking in every few minutes to make sure you’re okay, making you come at least twice like the gentleman he is before even thinking about his own release, petting and soothing and kissing at your skin until you’re melting for him.

Steve’s the closest thing to an angel on earth, probably- which is why your recent secret fantasies have felt a little unsettling. Lately you’ve been dreaming about what it would be like to have your golden boy fill out your throat with his thick cock, hands on either side of your head to keep you in place. Or what it would be like to ride him long after he’s come, dripping sweat and gritting teeth until he fills you up again.

You haven’t yet had the courage to bring up these latest fantasies, not with the boy who treats you so softly, who murmurs apologies any time his hands tighten on your hips. It’s not as though your longing for a bit of Steve’s roughness is entirely unfounded- it probably started around the time that you witnessed him kill a Demobat with his bare hands, broad chest heaving with exertion, a dark look in his eyes that made the heartbeat between your legs pound.

Maybe it was a little crazy to be turned on in an alternate dimension, but Steve brought out the wanton parts of you that had previously been buried under people-pleasing tendencies- even if he didn’t know it.

You were pretty sure that with a little coaxing, you could bring out the animal that simmered under his golden surface.

You’re gonna have to start slow, though. Ease him into it. If Steve knew half the dirty things you were thinking he’d probably implode on the spot.

A soft beam of evening sun lights the front room of the Harrington house; Steve’s glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he frowns down at the book in his lap, lips moving silently as he reads. You watch from the edge of the room, hip propped against the doorway, mindlessly drying your hands wet from dinner dishes on a teatowel until Steve speaks.

“Y’know, I promised Eddie I’d finish this stupid book before Friday but if my pretty girlfriend was gonna distract me I’m not sure how that’d be my fault.” His eyes haven’t left the page, feigning casual, but his smirk grows as you move towards the couch.

“Oh, so you’re gonna blame it on me?” you tease, tossing the towel aside and shaking your head with a tsk. “That’s not very considerate. Seeing as how much of a stickler Eddie is for his deadlines.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t let him be grouchy with you,” Steve says, shutting his book and tilting his knees out a bit so you can stand between them. “You’re too pretty.”

“You’re one to talk,” you counter, fondly, reaching up for his glasses as his hands come up to settle on your hips. You fold his glasses and set them neatly on top of his book, and Steve squeezes at your sides gently.

“My hero, come to distract me. Wanna watch a movie or somethin’? I brought a few home from work, there’s a stack somewhere around here. We could…”

He trails off when you sink to the floor, kneeling in front of him, caged in by his jean-clad legs. His hands rest on your shoulders, a little unsure as he chuckles- “Shit, honey, I didn’t mean- we can just, uh, watch a movie, i-if you want…”

“We could do that,” you agree, with a neutral shrug, gliding your palms up his thighs. “Or you could let me suck you off.”

Steve gulps audibly, and you bite back a smile at the heat that’s already rising pink in his cheeks. His plush lips are parted in a little o, blinking down at you through long, dark lashes as your hands pluck at the button of his jeans.

You can count on one hand the number of times your mouth has pulled an orgasm from Steve’s cock- he’s always too eager to flip the tables, go down on you until you’re the one crying with pleasure. It’s a damn shame, because he has a mouth-wateringly beautiful dick that’s currently filling out with each pass of your hand over the fabric of his crotch.

“I’m pretty good at them, you know,” you tell him, conversationally, tugging the waistband of his jeans down.

“At what?” Steve asks, lifting his hips a bit to help you slide his pants to mid-thigh. He watches, mesmerized, as you stroke him through his white cotton briefs, his hips making short little movements into your touch.

“Blowjobs,” you reply, then lean down to suck the head of his fully hard cock into your mouth. There’s a layer of fabric in the way but based on the noise that Steve makes, he doesn’t mind the friction.

“Oh, fuck.” His hands tighten on your shoulders as you suck, then lathe against the line of his bulge up and down with your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

When you mouth around his balls, Steve chokes out another swear, hands flying to the couch cushion beside his legs to avoid sinking his nails into your soft skin (although you wish he would).

You lift your head from his lap for just the time it takes to shove his underwear down, and then your mouth is back on your prize, that lovely, leaking tip disappearing behind your lips again as Steve groans in response.

“Shit, sweetheart. Fuck. Feels so good…”

His raspy voice spurs you on to take more of him in, sinking your face closer to the mess of coarse, wiry hair that sits below his soft stomach as your throat invites him in. Steve makes a sharp, choking sound, like he’s looking for air but can’t find any.

You glide back up his length, take him down again, repeating the motion again and again until his thighs are shaking around you, until he says your name in warning, knuckles white on the cushion.

“Not gonna last, honey, please, come up here, wanna taste you…”

Steve’s hands soothe against your upper arms, intending to pull you into his lap, following the same pattern you’re all-too familiar with by now. But this time, you stand (or rather, kneel) your ground, pulling off him with a wet pop and looking up into those chocolate-brown eyes hazy with lust.

“You gonna give me what I want?” Your voice is already a bit raw from having him down your throat; Steve nods rapidly and begins to try and help you up but then stops, confused, when you keep your weight on the ground. “I want you to come in my mouth. Think you can do that, pretty boy?”

Steve’s chest is heaving underneath his striped shirt as he stares down at you, enraptured- you think he’d give you just about anything right now. When he nods again, albeit hesitantly this time, you give him a smile before letting a line of spit fall from your mouth to his cock, the wetness getting worked in with your agile fist sliding up and down his length.

Steve moans, hands flexing around the meat of your upper arms when you take him into your mouth again. You set a steady pace, listening for the hitch in his breathing. There’s a small thunk, and when you flick your gaze up, Steve’s head is tilted against the back of the couch, jaw half-open, eyes squeezed shut under his furrowed brow.

When you slide a hand to roll his balls between your thumb and forefinger, you can feel the effect it has on him, thick cock kicking against the wet pad of your tongue, stomach muscles tensing as he babbles out, “Fucking christ, oh, jesus, baby, yeah, like that, so good, fuck me…”

You alternate a rolling pressure on each of his balls, relaxing your throat and breathing through your nose carefully to take him in further. You’ve never had him like this before, completely gone under your touch, each sound he makes going straight to the wet mess gathering in your underwear.

Steve’s been diligent about keeping his hips planted firmly on the couch, but when your throat suddenly constricts around his length he hisses sharply, body rocking forward despite himself to chase that tightness.

He’s immediately apologetic, pulling you off with big, gentle hands on either side of your neck, thumbs stroking at your cheeks. You allow him a moment of placation, pressing a kiss to his twitching tip- and then you guide his hands to the nape of your neck.

Steve’s fingers automatically twine into your hair as he looks down at you, equal parts nervous and turned on. Your cheek drags against his jeans as you let him guide your mouth back to his lap.

You swirl your tongue over his leaking slit, and his hands tighten around your head- “Don’t hold back, ‘kay?”- and then you swallow him down again.

This time, Steve keeps his hands where they are, cradling the back of your skull as the head of his dick slips past your soft palate; when your throat squeezes around him again, Steve lets out a warbly moan, obeying your instructions and letting his hips jerk forward.

“Jesus, honey. Oh god. Yeah, like that- f-fucking christ, sweetheart. Throat feels s’good, so fucking good…”

The wet squelch of his cock bullying the back of your throat fills the room; locked in place by his knees and hands you wriggle happily, the vibrations of your muffled encouragement sending his hips spasming forward again.

“Fuck, baby, oh fuck, gonna make me come, y’feel so good, angel… so good for me- you want it down your throat? Want me to fill you up?”

Steve sounds wrecked, voice strung thin as his grip gets tight enough on the root of your hair to dull pain, sending a shockwave of arousal to your aching clit. You relax your jaw the slightest bit more, fitting him snugly past your molars with another obscene squelch, spurring him on as your hands find purchase in the waistband of his jeans.

Steve gets the memo. He comes with a gorgeous whine, spilling warm into you while his hips stutter towards your face, rambling sex-drunk nonsense while he fucks your throat.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, baby, yeah, that’s it, m’coming, ah- so good, honey, feels so good, please don’t stop, please please please…”

His cum slides easily down your throat as you wring out the last of his orgasm, swallowing it down until he’s whimpering from the overstimulation. Steve’s hands loosen just enough for you to ease him from your mouth, both of you panting in tandem as your head lolls to rest against his thigh.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he starts, fucked-out, soothing fingers in your hair where his grip was brutal just moments ago, “but where the fuck did that come from?”

With a grin, you lift yourself into Steve’s lap, giving him a mock-pout when he hisses at the feeling of your jeans against his sensitive dick- “You really wanna know?”

Steve’s hands trail up, up again, soft over your arms, cinnamon eyes glassy, looking at you like you hang the moon and stars and everything in between. “Yeah. I do.”

Feeling suddenly shy, you drop your own gaze to Steve’s collar, smoothing the fabric that got rucked about during all that head-tossing back into place. “Um. When we were in… the Upside Down? And you killed that bat. With your bare hands. You looked so… hot.”

The memory surfaces and your shiver in Steve’s arms, spearing your bottom lip between your teeth before you continue. “And it just got me thinkin’. About how strong you are. And how sometimes I want you to- to…”

Steve finishes for you, threading a hand through the hair at the back of your neck again to tug, questioning. “To do this?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes flutter shut as he keeps that pressure, tracking his other hand across your chest and giving a light squeeze to your clothed breast. “Ah- yeah. Think about you holding me down. Taking what you want. Makin' me yours.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, then uses the leverage he’s got to expose your neck, fitting his mouth over that sweet spot he knows you love, adding a flash of teeth that makes you squirm. “I can do that, pretty girl. Just gotta show me how.”

You blink up at the ceiling as Steve works his way across your throat, held steady in his grasp, feeling his cock begin to thicken between your clothed thighs. Your warm cunt throbs, feeling left out.

“Ever heard of the stoplight system, Stevie?”

___

will write a part II if ya’ll have any interest! <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #+18 #mdni

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isawritesshit · 30 days

Text

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

___________________________________________________________

"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #principal yaga #guys I did it

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mitfloya · 2 months

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

pairings. Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 6.8K

synopsis. He believes that by isolating you, he can protect you from the outside world and ensure your happiness together. In his twisted mind, this is his way of creating a perfect and eternal bond, you’re his muse, his statue of beauty, his own aphrodite.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiyaaa! Thank you so much for the people that have helped me make my post manage to slip through the timeline! I kid you not I had to break my spine with this issues I kept running into (the ori yandere Zayne post is gone, I’m sorry for the inconvenience), if any of you have any suggestions on how to make my post made it into the tags please tell them on the comments section. Get ready and have some snacks and hope you enjoy reading another hc I made

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

A manchild…? you love this guy? Me being a slander and simp at the same time

To put it simply, Rafayel is always the damsel in distress and YOU are his knight shining armor. He needs your attention and protection 24/7, you don’t want him to end up dead, do you? The whole universe will miss him.

First of all, he loves you. Second of all, he hates you.

You’re like a goldfish, how could you not remember the vows you both made when you were just a little kid?! The mere fact that you failed to recognize his face shattered his heart into pieces, for you hold immense significance in his life.

The weight of your indifference crashed upon him like a tidal wave, leaving his emotions in ruins. It was like a tornado tearing through his soul, causing a gut-wrenching ache that seemed to consume him from within.

It creates a twisted cycle of emotions that he struggles to contain. He yearns for the love you once shared, yet despises you for not remembering the bond you had.

Perhaps he regrets not taking action in the past to ensure he could always locate you, to have left a distinctive mark upon you as a means of tracking your whereabouts.

You should’ve recognized him at first glance. Where have you been? He thought he lost you, he doesn’t even want to wish upon your death but you make it harder for him not to.

You’ve grown so much and so many changes but you’re still the same person he met at the beach, and it makes him feels so many emotions at once, it’s the first time he has managed to put a rein over his emotions, he could’ve coax you to come to his studio and locked you up, if you were to recognize him.

His heart longed to show much he misses you yet his mind tells him to seek revenge. It’s like his body and soul is splitting. Do you know how much damage you are causing him?

You must understand, my dear, that he is determined not to repeat past mistakes. It is time for him to take drastic measures, to make a promise that will bind you to him forever. He sees you as his ultimate protector, his unwavering shield. From this moment forward, you will never leave his sight again.

In his eyes, you have always belonged to each other, from the very beginning. Your destinies intertwined, your fates entangled. He craves the security of knowing that you are by his side, guarding his every step, his every breath. No longer will he allow even the smallest sliver of distance to separate you.

From the beginning you are his as much as he is yours.

His artistic talent is both his greatest strength and his greatest weapon. Through his art, he immortalizes his love and hatred for you, capturing the complexities of his emotions with every stroke of the brush. His creations serve as a constant reminder of his twisted desires.

Initially consumed by hatred, he concealed his love, allowing it to resurface gradually, in subtle and tender ways.

It’s the slowest burn you could ever imagine. Painstakingly slow.

As Rafayel's hatred gradually diminished, he began to express his feelings more openly, albeit subtly, leaving significant hints about the depth of his emotions towards you. Similar to a small forest fire that grows steadily, each progression was deliberate and methodical until it consumed the entire forest, an uncontrollable blaze that can’t be extuingish.

Say goodbye to freedom and welcome to his world, now that you’re his. He will be the center of your universe.

Clinginess is an inherent trait of Rafayel's nature. He craves your presence and attention, unable to bear the thought of being separated from you even for a moment. He will go to great lengths to ensure that you never leave his side.

You've grown accustomed to his playful nature and constant need for attention, but be prepared for an amplified version, as his demands intensify. Good luck dealing with your man ♡

He is a man of pride, he immortalizes you through his art, proudly showcasing pieces dedicated to you at his exhibitions. While abstract in form, this exclusivity serves to intrigue others, leaving them pondering what makes you so special in his eyes.

Unknown to you hidden away within his personal stash, there is a gallery dedicated solely to you. Every piece of artwork revolves around your existence, capturing his obsession with meticulous detail. The walls are adorned with portraits, each stroke of the brush reflecting his twisted love for you.

But at the very least, he showers you with lots of love and affection, no more holding back.

In relationships, he presents himself as a calm and romantic partner, radiating an aura of serenity akin to the sea. He enjoys spending quality time with you, whether it be casual outings or simply sharing space in silence. With him, you will never feel alone.

But do not be deceived by the calm waters, for they possess the ability to draw you into the depths of darkness, leaving you submerged and unable to resurface. His obsession remains unpredictable, much like the ever-changing tides of the sea.

Oh, how you've stumbled into his clutches the moment you made that fateful vow. There is no turning back, my dear. You have fallen into the siren's trap, lured by his haunting charm. You are now forever entwined in his grasp, unable to break free. You should have thought twice before crossing paths with him if you weren't planning to stay.

He has two preferred methods of dealing with nuisances. He may choose to be smug and show off his superiority, rubbing his success in their faces. He revels in flaunting his success and talents, using them as a means to intimidate and belittle those who dare to steal you away.

However, if they persist, he is unafraid to resort to physical means, utilizing violence to eliminate them from your life. He goes to extreme lengths, even shedding blood and concealing the evidence of his actions, all in the name of safeguarding your well-being and maintaining his possessive hold over you.

His possessiveness knows no bounds, his desire to claim you as his own overpowering any sense of reason. He will go to great lengths to ensure that no one else can possess you, viewing you as his ultimate masterpiece.

When faced with difficulty or resistance from you, Rafayel won't hesitate to take drastic measures. He is willing to use any means necessary, including drugs, to put you to sleep and kidnap you. He will isolate you in his studio, ensuring that you will be together forever.

His studio, the place where he creates his art, becomes both a sanctuary and prison for you. Within its walls, he controls every aspect of your existence, dictating your every move and stifling your individuality. It is a place where his obsession can flourish unchecked.

You will forever remain under his possession, as he claims you and binds you eternally.

#love and deep space #love and deepspace #love and deepspace headcanons #yandere hcs #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel #qi yu #yandere rafayel #yandere rafayel x reader #yandere rafayel x you #yandere rafayel x yn #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #dividers by cafekitsune

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miyacults · 3 months

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begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

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theemporium · 5 months

Note

Hello my dear!!! So - I know your requests are closed for now, but I just had to tell you I am OBSESSED with your Danny Ric x Sunshine series, and I had a thought for once they’re open again… I know that Sunshine isn’t famous or anything, but what if she dated someone who was/is before she started dating Danny (ex. Joe Jonas)? Like maybe they were childhood sweethearts or something, and her ex shows up at the Miami GP as a musical guest or something and Danny goes FERAL and protective of Sunshine? I just think it would be so cute and fluffy 😍🥰

you are a cutie🥹thank you for requesting!!! i changed it a wee bit but i hope you enjoy! and sorry for making you wait so long🫶🏽

It wasn’t unusual for there to be famous faces dotted around the garage during the race weekend.

Daniel was used to it and, if he was being completely honest, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed seeing familiar faces around the paddock, talking and chatting with them and meeting new and old fans alike. He was a social butterfly and he thrived in these situations, even if some drivers found it a little distracting or stressful when they were trying to get on with their jobs. Usually, Daniel loved it.

Except when these celebrities couldn’t seem to catch the hint.

You were gorgeous. Hell, in the eyes of Daniel, you were the prettiest human to ever walk the goddamn Earth. He was obsessed with you. He worshipped the ground you walked on. You were his sun and his life revolved around you and your love. He pinched himself every day that you chose to be with him, to love him, to be his forever partner.

However, it seemed one of Red Bull’s recent garage guests didn’t seem to catch the hint that you were not single nor were you ready to mingle.

If he was being honest, he didn’t know who the guy was. He had heard from a few team members that he was some big, upcoming actor that most of the world was going crazy for but Daniel didn’t care. He didn’t care if the man was the biggest name in the world. He was going after Daniel’s girl and he didn’t like that one bit.

Most guests tended to stick to their guided tours or near the back so they were out of the team’s way, yet this actor seemed to have gravitated towards you. He had been blatant in his attempts with flirting and chatting with you, going as far as leaning on the table you were currently working on until it became near impossible to continue with your job. He could see the discomfort in your face, could see the way you were getting progressively more annoyed and, despite knowing you could handle yourself, the last thing he wanted was you to be on the frog page after punching the douche in the face (even if it would've been well-deserved in his eyes).

“Got a problem here, mate?”

The man—his name was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t bring himself to care to remember—turned away from you to look at the approaching driver. “Hey, Daniel, right? Huge fan. You’ve got a great team here.”

“Yeah, the best of the best,” Daniel said as he slided in behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder as your body relaxed under his touch. “Sunshine here has the best brain you could ask for in Formula One.”

The man’s gaze slid back down to you, his lips twitching upwards in what you assumed was meant to be a charming smile. “So, your name is Sunshine?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Daniel beat you to it.

“Ha no, I can call her Sunshine,” he said with a massive smile on your face, one that would leave the people around you and out of ear shot to believe this was a happy conversation. “You can mind your own fucking business.”

The man’s face immediately soured. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a guest, courtesy of Red Bull, and that is the only reason I’m not dragging your sorry ass out of the paddock,” Daniel continued, stepping a little closer so you were leaning back against him. “Now, you can leave now or you can sit in the back of the garage like a good dog and leave my girl alone to do her work. What’s it gonna be?”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he insisted with a scoff. “Do you know who I am?”

“No, but I don’t really care. You’re on my turf right now, and what I say goes. If I don’t want you here, you’ll be gone with a snap of my fingers.” Daniel stated so casually, like his whole body wasn’t humming with the desire to just punch the guy in the face. “Piss off now.”

You had barely waited until he was gone before you spun around in your seat, looking up at him with an amused smile. “Are you taking lessons from Max or something? That felt very Mad Max-coded.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I was teaching him a lesson.”

“No, you were jealous and it was hot,” you corrected with a grin as you reached towards him, your arms winding around his torso. “But thank you. I was two seconds away from throwing my laptop at his head.”

He laughed as he leaned down, hands gently holding your hair back as he kissed you. “Always here to be your knight in shining armour, Sunshine.”

#daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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