#but that is so much more work and so much more brain and I’m maxed out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violentdelightsandviolentends · 4 months

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hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt spreads deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, resting the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

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lnfours · 2 months

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i keep thinking of a second chance romance with lando, f.e. being young and having made stupid decisions when his career was just taking off, and then after a few years kind of wishing to get it all back🤔

i am: sobbing. i love second chance romances. also i got carried away… again…

lando brainrot? lando brainrot.

max fewtrell was the definition of a social butterfly. and if lando didn’t know that already, he sure did now. looking around at the crowd, he was almost sure his friend was more popular than him. he didn’t even know max knew this many people.

the music inside the house was loud, lando swore he could feel the bass in his heart. max had left him a while ago, the rest of the quadrant team off to god knows where. he stood in the kitchen, grabbing a drink and escaping from the crowd in the other room. he scanned the area as he tried his best to find someone to strike up a conversation with so he didn’t look like a total loser while his best friend made his rounds to different people.

that’s when he caught the first glimpse of you, making him do a double take as he looked back to where he thought he saw you. and sure enough, it was. you were here. in london. in the flesh. after all this time, you had come back.

his feet were moving before his brain could process what he was doing, mumbling soft ‘excuse me’s as he tried his hardest to reach you. luckily, ethan had found you and managed to keep you in a spot where he could join in on the conversation.

“that’s great, ethan!” you smiled, “congratulations!”

“thanks,” he smiled before lando caught his eye, “mate, look who’s here!”

you turned around to look at who ethan was talking to behind you, only to be met with those familiar green eyes and brown curls. you felt your heart squeeze in your chest, and all of a sudden you were brought back to when you were nineteen and madly in love.

scratch that, the only time you ever considered yourself to be in love.

you and lando weren’t necessarily on bad terms, the both of you had just drifted away. you had been through every thing together, attached to the hip since you were children. and the breakup was hard, sure, but with you moving to the states and his career taking off, neither of you had much time to think about it. you didn’t let yourself think about it.

“hey,” he said, coming to stand with the two of you now, “you’re… here?”

you smiled softly at the brit in front of you, “i wasn’t going to miss max’s engagement party.”

ethan had disappeared from the two of you, finding his way back to niran and aarav. it was just the two of you.

“yeah,” lando smiled softly, “uhm, how’s the states?”

“fine,” you shrugged, “no place like home, though.”

“you’re just back for the party?”

you hummed, taking a sip of your drink, “actually, they asked if i wanted to be a project leader for something they’re working on in the office over here, so i’m back in london for right now.”

he raised his eyebrows, “oh, that’s awesome, congratulations.”

you smiled, “thanks,” you couldn’t help it, your eyes taking him in. he looked good. so good. of course you still kept tabs on him, still watched the races when you had the chance to do so. but something about seeing him again after all this time, in the flesh and not on your tv screen, your heart was yearning, “saw your podium last week, mega drive.”

he shrugged, “it was alright, i guess.”

“don’t tell me you still do that.”

he laughed softly, “do what?”

“your thing!” you chuckled, “you do that thing where, no matter how good of a drive you have, you’re like ‘eh, could be better’.”

“well, it could be,” he said, “could’ve been me on the first place spot.”

“you’ll get there one day.”

he smiled softly at you before looking around the crowd. he spotted the door to that lead to the back deck that looked vacant, “did you want to step outside? get some air.”

you nodded and he offered you his hand. you took it gently, letting him lead you through the crowd of people before you reached the back door. he opened it, letting you step outside first. the cool summer breeze was a relief, the escaping from the loud music and an overwhelming amount of people.

“forgot why i loved this place so much,” you said, looking up at the night sky as he closed the door behind him, “you can see the stars here. can’t see much in new york.”

he hummed, stepping behind you, “might as well take in as much as the night sky you can get.”

“believe me, i am,” you chuckled softly, turning around to face him. the moonlight dimly lit his face as he stood in front of you, and you could finally see the start of a little bit of facial hair on his chin. you smiled teasingly, pointing at it, “i see you can finally grow facial hair,”

he rolled his eyes, “yeah and if i remember correctly, you said you were into guys with no facial hair.”

you twisted your lips in though, “still true.”

“damn,” he mumbled, bringing his hand up to his face, “guess i’ll have to go get a new razor tomorrow.”

you laughed, the two of you taking a seat on the steps of the porch. you looked back up at the sky, trying hard to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. trying so hard that your brain couldn’t filter the next words out of your mouth.

“what ever happened with us?”

he looked over at you now, taking in your side profile before you looked over at him, “what do you mean?”

“do you ever think about us?” you asked, “like where we would be right now if we hadn’t gone and fucked it all.”

he licked his lips, “yeah, all the time.”

“me too.”

“this would probably be our engagement party,” he joked and you smiled, “can’t believe max beat us to it.”

“tell me about it,” you sighed, “i just had to give blake twenty bucks.”

he laughed softly, “no, but, seriously. i’m happy you’re here. i missed you.”

you swallowed, looking back into his eyes, “you missed me?”

“who wouldn’t?” he said, “even when we ended things and you moved and then i moved, i couldn’t help but feel like my life was missing something. like i was missing a piece to the puzzle, and… it was you.”

you were silent for a moment, processing everything that he had said before he cut your thinking process off, “i’m sorry, i didn’t-“

“lan,” you said, placing your hand on his, his rambling pausing as he mouth closed, “i feel the same. i was miserable in new york. i kept feeling like i had left something behind, like i abandoned it. and really, i had abandoned you.”

“you didn’t abandon me.”

“no, but it felt like it,” you said, “our whole lives it’s always been us against the world. and the last couple years it’s felt like its been the whole world against me. letting us go was one of the worst mistakes i ever made.”

“me too,” he said, reaching up and brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, “i’m still madly in love with you. i don’t think i ever stopped being in love with you.”

“me either.” your voice was softer now, realizing how close he was and taking in all the things you loved about him. his dimples, the way the freckles and moles decorated his face. he was still yours. he always had been.

he leaned forward, nose brushing against yours. you smiled softly, letting him cup your face into his hand. something he always did that would turn you to putty in his hands. even now.

“can i take you out for breakfast tomorrow?”

you nodded, biting down on your lower lip to suppress the grin on your face, which was ultimately failing, “i’d love that.”

he finally pressed his lips to yours, you melting into him. he pulled you as close as he could get you, deepening the kiss as he tilted his head to the side.

“hey, lando! shit, sorry-“

you two broke apart at the sound of max’s voice, who had already turned around and walked away from the two of you. lando laughed softly, letting your head dip down onto his chest.

“well, now we don’t have to worry about telling him.”

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httpsserene · 8 months

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʀᴛᴜᴀʟ ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴏᴛᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴡ/ᴍᴠ33

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you start showing interest in sim racing. max's only option is to turn you into the best virtual-racer there ever was--well besides himself, of course. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: fluff. brain vomit. formatting (done on mobile💀). tiniest explicit reference. not edited. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: headcanons & smau 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: word on the streets • key glock

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: thought about this the whole time i was working. and then some man had the exact same voice as max and i genuinely almost dissolved into thin air because i felt like max was punishing me for thinking about this on the clock :) anyways, hope u enjoy the brainrot, loves !!!

wanna be on my taglist ? send me an ask !

and yes, i did make a masterlist !

*whispers* next f1 kinktober fic this weekend

you were probably unaware that sim racing was even a thing until you started dating max

like you’ve seen the funny little twitch clips of people playing driving simulators and being absolute menaces on the road, but you never knew actual virtual racing was a thing

anyways, whether or not you consider yourself a gamer in this scenario, you’ve always been pretty down to play videogames with max.

he absolutely annihilates you in FIFA, and no matter how much he tries to help you, you’re a lost cause

in return, you embarrass him in COD; he should’ve looked at your kd-ratio before he tried to play with you

but, sim racing 🧐

i mean, like, you never even fully considered that you could sim race at all, like not for leisure at least

max takes that shit seriously, he’s a part-time f1 driver full time simracing twitch streamer 😤

you are always around watching him practice on the sim, playing the f1 games, and even tuning in for his iracing competitions

at first, whenever max would stream you would probably be doing other things with your time

your hair, cleaning, self-care, cooking, etc.

eventually, you started migrating to sitting on the couch off-camera and watching him drive irl instead of having the stream on in the background

you were originally like, “oh it’s just because i wanna drool over his massive veiny hands” 🤤

but now it’s like “oh i wonder what each button he presses with his nicely proportioned fingers on the steering wheel does?”

and slowly it transforms from “wow my boyfriend is so cool” to “wait…this sim-racing thing is kinda cool”😵‍💫

now imagine you being like “lol wait a minute now” and being like i'm only interested in because my boyfriend loves it 🤥

in order to disprove this theory you start to ask max questions about virtual racing

not that you wouldn’t before, but they were fairly surface level; now you’re asking him about tactics, strategies, and track conditions etc.

and max is fucking thrilled 🫨🫨🫨 !!!

he eagerly answers all your questions (maxplaning 🥱), going way more into depth than you were expecting, but what did you think was going to happen

max is always happy to ramble about any small facet of virtual racing (doesn’t matter if it’s the sim, or iracing, or f1 2023) but

it makes him really pleased that you’re showing a genuine interest in it because most people don’t

you support him in anything he wants to do wholeheartedly, and listening and answering your well thought out questions has him falling head over heels for you again

so, he thinks nothing of it other than you being the best girlfriend he’s ever had and trying to learn more about what he loves

his previous girlfriends didn’t really care to understand how important vr racing was to him

they all just saw it as him playing a “game” and him wasting time when they could’ve been on dates or smth

anyways

everything is going fine and dandier, max continues to answer all of your vr racing questions, and you continue to watch him pilot the sim

until, he catches you watching a beginner’s guide on f1 2023 and get’s so jealous 😒

bro is all like “wtf, you’re watching some lame ass unranked gamer when i’m your professional driver boyfriend who does this for a living?? hell nah if you want to start playing i’ll teach you”

you’re just like, “nahhhh….i don’t want to waste your time trying to teach me, it’s not worth it. i’m not even a good driver irl, so—“

max shuts that down expeditiously

if his girlfriend wants to start vr racing, he only has one option

make you the best virtual racer there ever was (excluding him)

you’re wide-eyed like, “i just wanna go vroom vroom in circles for fun 😭”

max deathly serious, “that was never an option”

he enlists you in his virtual-racing training camp

if you are aware of the disney rapid training montage where the mc sings one song and suddenly they’re the best fighter ever, that’s how i imagined it

mulan, for example, i’ll make a man out of you

max reveals his inner george russell, he becomes a power point king

instead of date nights being cute pottery classes—they turn into him teaching you the parts of the car, the buttons on the wheel, f1 2023 settings breakdowns, reviewing iracing competitions etc.

eventually max finally allows you to play on the sim after he thinks you’ve got the theory down pretty good

you suck at first 🤗

but then you start clocking in some hours

after work, during your “lunch break”, using the sim while max is gone and playing during all the practice and media sessions

whenever max is gone, and you have any questions or ask for feedback on how to get better, you text him all about it, of course not expecting an immediate response back

max has told you before that he likes getting out of the car after a practice session and checking his phone to see all the missed messages from you with some wishing him luck and the others asking for his thoughts on your strategies

one day, he’s going for lunch with some of the other drivers and they start to make fun of him for how he’s stuck in his phone, heart-eyes and all as he rapidly texts you

they probably think that you’re sending him cute texts or photos like that one time they caught him looking at photos of you and learned he had a locked photo album of you on his phone ☠️

max remains unbothered under their teasing thinking, “they don’t know my gf can out pace them by .200 in f1 2023”

max even personally bothers christian into getting him another sim for you

christian is so tired of you two, max won’t leave him ALONE

i think max would text his team principal screenshots of your lap times and make jokes about it

“if checo keeps dnf-ing, my gf can fill in”

christian gets you the goddamn sim 😒

y’all procrastinate on building and calibrating it, max more so because it means his chair would stop smelling like you 🥺

you get it set up, but you still play on his sim every once in a while after he told you that because you’re a simp

he goes to stream one day, planning on practicing with the redline team for an upcoming iracing event

and the man almost BREAKS HIS LEGS trying to sit down because you forgot to move the chair back after you were done using it 😭😭

in between his groan of pain he let’s it slip “ow fuck, my girlfriend forgot to move the seat back after she was done”

chat goes ducking crazy

yooo, what? ur gf sim races???

is she good???

max is like “hell fucking yeah my girlfriend is great sim racer, she could replace one of the boys at redline if she wanted too!”

(team redline sweats anxiously, mics now suspiciously silent)

max continues, “well she is not as great as me, but she’s good i guess”

stream chat “they are going to have babies that completely dominate f1” “if their babies are born in the netherlands we will be stuck in purgatory cursed with hearing the dutch anthem forever”

max continues with his practice but everyone is begging to see you play, even some of the redline guys are asking questions

they wanna know if they’re really at risk of you stealing their seat

max gives up and turns to you on the couch with a smile and says, “i will beg, schatje. do not put it past me, we all want to see you drive. some people are saying i’m lying so you have to prove them wrong🙇🏼”

you’re like “what 😅 no 😧i suck 🤭 at this 🤗” but you’re already getting up and walking over to boot up your sim

the urge to flex on people and embarrass them is something both you and max share

max opens f1 2023 and starts a party for just you two, and you both decide to do quali laps at zandovoort

you do your hot lap first, and max goes after you

max y’ know, probably thinks that he can take it relatively easier on you, there’s no reason to put 100% effort into something for fun, so he puts in 95% 😀 (competitive boy)

and you know that one nepenthez meme

that’s how this goes

max is like, already rambling to the stream “yeah that’s a comfortable p1, she still has a lot to learn before she can beat a world champ—P2??!!!! 😧😳”

you’re just in the background in your sim chair, turned facing the camera with an innocent little smirk smile on your face ☺️

you got pole by .050, and chat starts bullying max, the redline boys laughing hysterically in his headphones

max requests a rematch and promptly annihilates you :)

i like to imagine that eventually you start joining max’s stream and the two of yous start having little racing tournaments whenever you guys have the time

omg could you imagine the little championship ceremony where you put party hats on jimmy and sassy and have fake little tiny gold trophies for whoever wins 🥹

imagine one day ‼️ you actually start doing iracing events, and just working your way up to being one of the best 😌

ANYWAYS to wrap it up, best teacher max ever

virtual racing 🤝 strong relationships

twitter • today

instagram

maxverstappen1 • 32 mins ago

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo3, and 7,324,122 ofhers

maxverstappen1 the only woman for me 🧎🏼

tagged yninstagram

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yninstagram baby. baby—😭😭😭😭

➥ maxverstappen1 i love you

➥ yninstagram what the fuck has gotten into you 😳 i love you, maxy 🫶🏽

user the way ‼️ he cradles ‼️ her head 😭😭

danielricciardo3 this genuinely the sappiest thing max has ever said

➥ maxverstappen1 do not worry daniel you are the only man for me

➥ user my therapist will be hearing about this

user the fact that max personally handmade that meme 💀

user never thought i’d see the day that max uses the kneeling emoji

➥ maxverstappen1 i’m on my knees for her more often than you think

➥ user alRIGHT go ahead and clock out for me 😒

➥ redbullracingf1 do you remember the media training we had two days ago, max?

taglist: @lorarri | @saintslewis | @cherry2stems | @sweetpiccolo-blog

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lovebugism · 7 months

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hi angel! I have a little fictober request … can I pls get holding hands for the first time from the prompt list with steve harrington and shy!reader? maybe they’re in a busy place and steve doesn’t want to lose r so he grabs her hand, not realising how ridiculously flustered she gets <3333

ty for requesting angel :D this can be read as a part two to this fic!

summary: steve takes you to a mall in the city in a desperate attempt to spend time with you, fending off freaks, douchebags, and your anxious tendencies alike (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers cw for mentions of anxiety, 3.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve idles between the X-rated horror and thriller sections for several long minutes until he works up the courage to talk to you. You’re a pretty little thing behind the counter, hand in your palm as you scribble into the journal Keith threatened to confiscate from you earlier that morning.

He’s never been this nervous to talk to you. Things are different now. Post-first date, and Steve’s still toeing that wretched line between friends and something more. The puppy love is so painfully mutual, but it’s equally hard to navigate. He can’t come on too strong — not with someone as soft as you — but he’s still got some King Steve left in him. He’s still learning how to be gentle.

With sweaty hands, he walks up to the counter and tries to be subtle about the whole thing. Stealthy, like a ninja. He leans on his folded-up arms and blurts before he means to, “So you’re, like, totally coming tomorrow, right?”

You lift your chin and blink at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t heard him come over, too busy doodling a bunch of nothingness in your notebook. Your stomach whirls at the sight of him. It takes you a moment too long to answer.

“Coming… where?”

“To the mall,” he reminds, then corrects himself with a shrug. “The one in the city— not the shithole we have here.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t— I don’t know,” you stammer. Steve invited you earlier that week, and you promised to think about it. You did. And you want so desperately to go, but your brain’s too mean, and it just won’t let you.

The disappointment that flashes on his face is fleeting, but you don’t miss it. The hurt softens his features in an unbearable way. It makes your chest ache.

“C’mon,” Steve presses in a gentle lilt. He leans closer to you, eyes twinkling and lips curling. “It could be fun, you know? I mean, everyone’s gonna be there.”

He’s trying his best to persuade you. He has no idea that that’s exactly what’s keeping you from going. Crowds are always stress-inducing, even those of the familiar kind.

“Everyone as in…?”

“Robin, obviously. Dustin, too,” Steve answers, counting on his fingers as he goes. “Max is coming, but Lucas has a basketball thing, so he can’t. And the rest of the little shits are in California, so that’s definitely a plus.”

It’s a dumb joke, but it makes you laugh anyway — a quiet giggle of a thing that makes him grin.

“Uh… Eddie’s coming, too, I think— but don’t let that dissuade you, alright? I promise I’ll protect you from that freak. You don’t have to worry about him.”

You smile because you know he’s joking. You’ve met Eddie a couple times now. He’s always been really sweet to you. Him and Steve just have a strange complex that forces them to be assholes to each other.

“And also, I’m gonna be there. Obviously. So…” he trails off with a wavering smile. So if you don’t wanna come for them, maybe you can come for me, is what he’s really trying to tell you.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, quieter now as you shrink into yourself. You try and fail to meet Steve’s honeyed gaze. “I just feel like I’ll make everything all weird.”

His bushy brows pinch, almost in offense that you’d think you’re anything less than totally perfect. “Why would you think that?”

“‘Cause… I don’t know,” you murmur in a quiet sigh. You don’t want to lie to him, but telling the truth feels so much harder. “They don’t really know me, you know? And I feel like… like I’ll just ruin everything if I’m there…”

It takes Steve a couple of seconds to answer you. He doesn’t know how you could say something that — like you don’t light up every room you’re in. “Well, that’s… that’s just not true,” he argues with a shrug. “They like you. They love you, actually— they just wanna get to know you. And the only way they’re gonna get to know you is if you come hang out every once in a while.”

Your heart flutters. You want to believe him. It’s hard for you to comprehend that anyone could care so much about your presence, so you just nod and don’t say anything further.

Steve is quick to comfort you, almost like he can read your mind. “But if you think it’s gonna be too much, you could always just stick with me. I’ll fend off the freaks for you, no problem.”

His cinnamon eyes glimmer with honey. He looks at you far too fondly to say no.

—————

There’s six of you crammed into Steve’s 733i. It’s already a tight fit, but it’s more suffocating when it’s full of a million different conversations. Almost all of them are pointed your way. Steve tries to bat everyone off of you, but it’s hard to yell at everyone and drive at the same time.

You’re being a pretty good sport about it despite how anxiously helpless you feel.

You wring your clammy hands in your lap and try to regulate your bated breaths, nodding to whatever Max is telling you. It’s hard to hear her because Eddie’s talking to you, too. You’re too scared he’ll think you’re mean if you stop him.

You watch Robin reach for the radio, complaining about all the yelling as she turns up the volume. The cheesy pop song is all you can hear. The conversations around you become a monotone buzzing. You feel like you could just about explode.

“Jesus, you guys are acting like you’ve never seen another person before,” Steve shouts over it all, the only definite thing you can understand. “Let her breathe before she thinks we’re all a bunch of lunatics, alright?”

He’s met with a bunch of muffled complaints, but the noise quietens nonetheless.

Steve glances at you in the rearview, a quick check to make sure you’re still okay. You catch him doing it and try your best to give him a smile. It looks more like a wince.

“Well, it’s your fault for finally bringing someone cool around,” Max argues with all her practiced teenaged ambiguity. “I have to spend all day surrounded by freaks— at least now there’s someone halfway normal to talk to.”

“I’m normal!” Steve insists, face twisted in offense.

“You’re a jock.”

“Hey. C’mon, Red,” Eddie scolds, so obviously playful. “Let’s not go throwing the j-word around—”

The brunette boy huffs. “Thank you!”

“—Jock would imply that Steve’s still cool,” the wild-haired boy continues. “Which he isn’t.”

Poorly hidden laughter fills the small car. Steve nods and mutters beneath it all, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the clarification, Munson.”

He glances at you again and finds you cracking a halfway sincere smile. He shoots you a light-hearted glare. “Don’t laugh! You’re just encouraging him!”

“Sorry,” you apologize, hiding your giggle behind your fist. “’M sorry.”

Steve smiles at you, silently tells you he doesn’t really mean it. He’d let Musnon make fun of him all day if he thought it meant he’d get to hear you laugh like that again.

—————

You take your first good breath in an hour when you step out of the car.

Steve shuts it off and gravitates towards you on instinct. His honey eyes are wide as they dart across your flustered features. You see his hands reach towards you, to grab your elbows maybe, but he decides against it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, quicker than you mean to. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I really tried to—”

“I know,” you cut him off with a sweet, still quiet smile. “It’s still okay.”

He sighs heavy, like a deep breath of relief. “Okay. Good,” he hums, almost to himself, nodding with a pink grin you could stare at all day. He would’ve let you, but neither of you get the chance.

Your friends start messing around, and the chaos melts into the buzzing crowd surrounding you, and you realize the two of you aren’t the only people on earth. Bummer.

You gather around the large map at the entrance of the bustling mall. “Where should we go first?” Dustin chirps from the front of the crowd. His eyes are as wide as his smile. “Game Player? Sam Goody? Oh, look— they have a RadioShack! I’ve been looking for a new supercomm. It’s on the other side of the building, though, but we can just work our way around, I guess—”

“Jesus, Dusty-Bun,” Robin interjects with a gritty laugh. She stands on the outside of the group, arms crossed over her chest, effortlessly too cool for it all. “Take a breath, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that!” the boy gripes over his right shoulder.

Steve shrugs. “Go wherever you want to. I don’t care.”

Dustin looks to his left, shooting the older boy a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be the babysitter?”

“You’re fourteen!”

“Well, what if I get kidnapped?”

“No one’s kidnapping you, alright? Trust me,” Steve jokes, only smiling when he sees you trying to hide yours. He puts his hands on his waist and cocks his hip to the side. “They’ll send you right back where you came from. You have nothing to worry about.”

Dustin squints. “Rude.”

“We’ll just meet back at the food court in, like, two hours. And if you don’t get yourself killed, you’ll be fine,” Steve reasons with a nonchalant shrug and a jutted-out lip.

“Oh. Wow. Thanks, Steve. What would I ever do without you?”

He rolls his cinnamon eyes at the boy’s monotone. “Alright, smartass.”

When the rest of the group dissipates, he leans over to nudge your shoulder. It knocks you from your stupor — so deep in your own head you were practically drowning. You blink at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Hm?”

“Do you wanna go anywhere?” he asks with a wavering smile. His laugh is equally forced. “You’re kinda staring a hole into the map there…”

“Oh. No. I was just…” you trail off with a shake of your head. You’re not entirely sure what to tell him, how to make him understand your easily overstimulated mind. “I was just distracted. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.”

“Where did everyone else go?” you wonder with a furrow to your brow, noticing the lack of familiar chaos around you.

“Eddie and Dustin went to some movie store, and I think Robin and Max are on the hunt for cassettes.”

“Okay...” you nod with a tremble in your voice.

You’re still not totally used to being alone with Steve. Your friends are usually good distractions. They fill your awkward silences with something funnier and talk loud when you get too quiet. When they’re not around it’s just… awkward silences and quiet air.

You get too in your own head, so eager to impress the pretty boy beside you, that you end up putting your foot in your mouth.

Steve doesn’t seem nearly as apprehensive. Instead, he’s beaming at the fact that he’s finally got you alone. He doesn’t have to worry about quieting Dustin when he gets too loud or shoving Eddie away when he forgets what personal space is. It’s quieter with just the two of you — warmer, cozier, easier.

“Wanna go down to the food court?” he wonders, honey eyes sparkling when he looks your way. “I know you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…”

Your eyes narrow, accusing and playful. “How would you know that?”

“Uh, ‘cause I know you,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. “I basically have to force you to eat every morning.”

“That’s not true!”

“It so is!” Steve giggles and it’s heaven to your ears, the exact sound of honey. “That’s why I hate not opening with you. ‘Cause if I’m not around to force you to eat the other half of my Poptart, I’m just, like, worrying if you’re withering away or not.”

Your face burns hot. Your heart swells with a similar warmth that borders on painful. You didn’t think he cared so much about you — or that he ever thought about you outside of work or the occasional hangout.

“Fine,” you concede with your arms crossed over your chest, trying not to seem as flustered as you feel. “Let’s go to the food court.”

Steve grins. He follows you in stride when you start to head that way. “Cool. We can go get one of those disgustingly good burgers or something.”

“For breakfast?” you wonder with a light-hearted laugh.

“Yeah! Like, one of those crazy huge ones, you know? The patties are, like, the size of your fist— make a fist.”

You do. You ball your fingers and hold them up between you. Steve holds onto your wrist for further inspection, fingers long and warm and soft. You swallow.

“Bigger than your fist,” he corrects with a laugh. The sweet sound is drowned out by the swell of yelling teenagers. They talk so loudly and over one another that their conversations become a meaningless drones.

Two in particular shove at one another, laughing loud like it’s fun. One of them almost barrels into you — long blonde hair, tight shirt, tighter jeans, and cologne so potent it stings your nose. He just narrowly misses you, mostly because Steve’s there to yank you out of the way.

The boy’s gentle grip on you tightens. He pulls you close until you’re stumbling into his side. With a strong arm wrapped around you, he shouts at the roughhousing teens — “Watch where you’re going, assholes!”

The scrawny boys walk on ahead of you. They seem apologetic, halfway scared at first. When they realize Steve’s not rushing to beat their asses, they chuckle about the whole thing and keep punching each other.

You’re still frozen in shock — not so much of fear anymore, but of how tightly Steve’s holding onto you. It’s an embrace of the firmer kind, a touch so solid you feel immediately safer inside it. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close before. The teenage girl in your heart starts to spin.

“You okay?” Steve asks when the anger ebbs.

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing tightly and forcing an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to keep asking me that, you know?”

He nods rapidly, then notices how close he’s holding you. Fearful that he’s made you uncomfortable, he uncurls his arm from around you and takes a small step back. “No, I know! I just wanna— I just wanna make sure, you know? ‘Cause I know you don’t like… all this.”

He waves his hands vaguely out beside him.

You’re immediately cold without him holding you. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate for the lack of him.

“Yeah, but… It’s not the rest of the world’s fault that I’m scared of everything,” you say with another forced laugh, shifting your weight on your feet. If you could melt into your oversized sweater, you would. “It’s mine. So I can deal with it. I have to deal with it.”

Steve nods, slower this time and with a silent sense of understanding. He steps closer to you and shrugs. “I think the least I can do is make it a little easier on you… And I feel like I’ve been doing the exact opposite of that all day.”

“That’s not true,” you argue with the shake of your head.

His chocolate eyes widen. You’re rarely so assertive. “No?”

“No,” you answer, softer this time as you grow sheepish all over again. Your unsure gaze darts from your dirty sneakers to his twinkling eyes until it makes you dizzy. “You’re actually making it more bearable for me, so…”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” he nods with a smile, breathless because his chest is swelling with pride. He knows the world can be a little much for someone as soft as you. It’s good to know that he’s the exception to all that.

He gets lost in the way you look at him for a moment too long. He clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, do you still wanna go get food?” he asks, pointing off beside him. “We can find somewhere quiet to eat so we don’t have to deal with teenage douchebags the entire time.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. It’s practically your love language — spending time alone in a quiet space, with no overt need for conversation or people to fill the void.

You nod, trying and failing to hide the beam on your face. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

—————

The quiet place in question is a photo booth on the halfway vacant, furthest end of the mall. Closed curtains, small spaces, and entwined breaths. It smells like his deep cologne, your perfume, and a freshly cooked meal. It’s too easy to forget that there’s a whole world outside of here.

You sit twisted on the bench, facing Steve with your burger trays in front of you. You pluck salty fries from the plate with a trembling hand, distantly fearful that you’re not supposed to be eating here. You think being so close to Steve is worth the risk.

“Is this the day you were expecting to have?” Steve asks with a lopsided grin. He takes a big bite of his burger right after and gets mustard on the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you answer, giggling as he swipes the stain away with his tongue. “But not because it’s bad.”

“Hm?” he hums to egg you on. He’s got too much of a mouthful for anything else.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, equally nonverbal as you chew on a handful of fry crumbs. You swipe your palms together to dispel the grains of salt. “I’m having more fun than I thought I would, actually.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Spending time with me? Alone in a photo booth? That’s a good time to you?”

His tone makes you self-conscious. You feel a little shameful, like a child, because you don’t need much to be entertained. You get all warm with embarrassment, too. Being alone with Steve has always felt like climbing mountains — something short of an adrenaline rush that makes you think you could conquer the world. Maybe you’re too small in comparison to do the same for him.

“Yeah,” you shrug in an inaudible murmur. “I don’t know— I just… I like spending time with you, you know? I don’t really care what we’re doing.”

Steve’s chest swells. From a girl who too often keeps to herself, inherently nervous and incessantly frightened of being a burden, it’s more of a proclamation of love than he ever thought he’d get from you.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he confesses with a crooked pink grin, internally praying his cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel.

He holds his half-eaten burger out towards you. You knock yours with his, clinking them together like champagne glasses. He takes another too big bite. You go to do the same but get a whiff of the sleeve of your sweater before you can.

“God, I smell like a teenage boy,” you groan, only half-playful. The nose-burning musk from the kid from before has seemingly stuck itself onto you. Like fruit and sage and wood and vanilla, every scent ever made combined.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you definitely smell like bodyspray,” Steve affirms, scruffy cheeks jutted out from the burger in his mouth.

“I think I’ve been tainted,” you giggle, a quieter sound compared to his boyish laughter. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

You’re saying it to be nice, but you watch him get all shy about it when you take a bite of your sandwich. He shifts on the bench, like he suddenly can’t get comfortable. When he rubs his palms on his thighs, you can’t tell if it’s because of the salty fries or because they’re clammy.

“Yeah— I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he stammers with an apologetic twinkle in his eye and a gaze that can’t quite meet yours. “Just so you know. I was just trying to—”

“Save me?” you interject.

Steve smiles when he sees how softly you’re looking at him. He shrugs. “Well, I was gonna say ‘pull you from the line of fire,’ but sure.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat for perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I didn’t mind. It felt nice, actually— you have really warm hands.”

“That’s ‘cause yours are always ice cold.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not holding them,” you blurt before you mean to.

You freeze mid-bite, eyes wide in distant horror as your blood runs cold. In a desperate attempt to break away from the awkwardness you caused, you muster a trembling smile. “I’m kidding,” you murmur, halfway hidden behind your burger.

You weren’t.

Steve knows this, too, so he smiles.

He’d been thinking about it all day, in truth — how he was gonna get to hold your hand without having to stick his foot in his mouth to ask you. Turns out, a series of unfortunate events and an impromptu date in a photo booth was all it took. And he’s grateful. For all of it.

“No, you weren’t,” he teases, fingers as warm as his smile when he wraps them around yours. He holds gently onto your hand — even though it makes eating a little harder, even though your fingers are cold, even though you tremble.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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keepthebeanscool · 8 months

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ITS TIME. this is my essay on why the chasity family are cannibals

okay so obviously this started with that one line from hatchet town “careful or your kids might end up on karens plate! she just ate!” but i like to imagine the “chasitys are cannibals” is just a running joke in hatchetfield, or maybe a rumor. most people don’t actually think they’re cannibals but it’s just something people say to get under karen’s skin because that’s fun.

but i like to imagine this rumor started with actual evidence of something. it’s not just like one day someone said “it would be funny to say this about karen lmao” it’s more like “possibly human remains were found in the chasity’s freezer but this is kind of a normal occurrence in hatchetfield so we’re just going to turn it into a joke”

ALSO. that one scene in npmd right before dirty girl and basically just every scene where the chasitys interact feels kind of off. its definitely giving the trope of “this a perfect utopia oh wait it’s actually really fucked up and dark when you think about it for a minute” like imagine in the dinner scene the “mouthful of mothers meatloaf” is fully some guys liver. and then karen chasity is like “oh i couldn’t have done it without you mark, you work so hard dragging all of these corpses into our basement!”

this also works with the “this is hatchetfield, people go missing every day” line because the chasitys are killing all of them and fucking eating them!! this can also account for why grace was so confident she’d get away with max’s murder because she’s so used to living in a cannibalistic murder family that it doesn’t cross her mind to worry. she just didn’t account for the fact that this specific murder would be more trackable because she didn’t yknow. eat maxs corpse so it was still there for the cops to find

grace’s entire personality in general is also really concerning! like, she’s fucking insane obviously! but why? she probably didn’t just pop out of the womb like that right? well, maybe it’s because she has been RAISED by crazy people. obviously her parents are very intensely christian but even the most devoted of christians don’t usually summon five eldritch demons to do their bidding. like! that is most definitely not normal! so it makes complete sense that grace’s insanity runs in the family they are cannibals they eat people

i promise i’m almost done but i would LOVE a nightmare time episode about the chasitys being cannibals i feel like that has so much crazy potential especially considering their personalities i just love the idea of a typical american christian family sitting down together for dinner and saying grace with someone’s fucking BRAIN on the plate in front of them. like that’s fucking insane.

could you IMAGINE a nmt episode of karen chasity seducing Ted and luring him into her home only for mark and grace to come bursting out of the closet wielding kitchen knives? i would kill to see that.

#grace chasity #mark chasity #karen chasity #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #hatchetfield #this turned out WAY longer than i thought it would why am i insane #like this genuienly took like half an hour #starkid #jaspers thoughts

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cryptocism · 3 months

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Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit.

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.

#soapbox #dc #thad thawne #thaddeus thawne #inertia #bart allen #impulse #like he cannot be mean indiscriminately... u must interrogate WHY hes mean and to whom #if hes being raised with Max and Helen he would not intentionally do anything to make their lives more difficult #if hes being raised by Meloni same situation #he needs to be trying to get validation from SOMEWHERE u know #and of course he'll mess up and hurt the people he loves or wants to impress he is a human being #but while that can sometimes be the result #that is never the Goal u kno #not his Core Motivation #i feel like the more i talk about this the less sense im making

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ryanmarshallryan · 3 months

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I've been having a lot more people reach out about the vore stories I write, so thought I'd throw it out there if anyone wants to donate to help me have more time to write stories, or likes my style and wants to commission something let me know over dm!

I usually write thinking from a prey perspective, but was feeling hungry after eating salads for a month and switched to pred for this story.

DIET BACKFIRED

I love my weight. I think my belly looks great on me. When I see those old statues of historical figures with dad bods I see myself and love it. But after gaining 25 pounds in a few months from stress, I decided to try out a diet for a bit, just to be cautious of my health. Man, it was hard. And this morning my hunger took control.

I was preparing a salad, heated up some chicken to mix in, sprinkled in some shredded cheese, spinach, lettuce, cucumber, tomato and such. All I could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have a full belly again. Not just feeling satisfied, but pigging out and shoving as much down my maw as possible. Feeling the gainer bug while also trying to diet was not going to work for me. I tore through my cabinet to find an old box of cookies. I opened the box, came to my senses and closed it, then decided I didn’t care and ate the remainder in one sitting. To try to slow myself down and tire out my palette, I tried to eat a bunch of lettuce, but then added a bunch of croutons and snacks without thinking. I still felt hungry, but just left the kitchen to stop myself.

Later, I hung out with my work-out buddy, Max, and vented about my hunger, “I’m still eating a lot! Just replacing chips with a lot of low fat snacks. So if the quantity of food I’m eating is the same, why am I always feeling sooooo hungry? Ugh.”

“Bro, sounds like you need a cheat day. But, hey, if you’re stressed about having too much high fat food, I can help you eat big while still holding back on the chips.”

“Well it can be helpful to sit with the feeling for a while. So if you start feeling hungry, write down exactly what you are craving and what that feels like. By the time you are done writing it out, if you’re still hungry for it… go for it. If the feeling passes, then move on,” Max continued.

“I’m sure we could try it, but I don’t see how much of a difference it’ll make.” I replied. I knew Max worked as some sort of private personal trainer or something on the side, so I felt inclined to believe him, but my stomach was doubtful.

After our workout, we visited a smoothie place and got large chocolate banana protein smoothies (after writing out what I was craving and waiting a moment before deciding to go through with it). I sucked mine down so fast I got a mild brain freeze.

“So how are you feeling? Hungry for another one?” Max asked, playfully placing a hand on my gut and giving it a quick rub.

“Ugh, I would totally go for a burger and fries right now… no, onion rings… actually both,” I replied, as Max handed me a notepad and pen. I wrote down the menu in my mind and thought about how it can be nice to feel so full without another care in the world.

“It’s been a few minutes… still hungry?” Max said with a sly smile.

“What do you think?” I asked him, lifting my gym shirt up to reveal my hairy belly, which gave a perfectly timed gurgle.

Max drove to my favorite burger joint and ordered a few meals and insisted on paying “This is my idea, don’t worry about it… for science!”

After downing two large burgers, a full bag of onion rings and a couple sides of fries, plus an apple that came with Max’s meal that he was too full to finish, I sat with my gut extended out in front of me.

Max leaned over to me, pulled my shirt up over my belly and patted it with his closed fist as if knocking at a door, “So how are you doing, hungry guy?” He put his ear to my side and listened intently to the stomach gurgles, occasionally making sounds of “Mmm,” “Yes, I see,” “Interesting.” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of Max speaking to my belly.

“What’s so funny about listening to your gut? Intuitive eating is no joke,” Max said with a joking smile, “What is your stomach telling you?”

I thought for a moment, grabbed the notepad and wrote down ‘Though I should be full and done eating… Ice cream would hit the spot right now… Surely that would fill me up, and fill the void the low fat snacks have opened.’ I handed Max the written note.

Max looked from my belly to my eyes with a poker face, “I know just the place.”

In a few minutes we rolled up to Max’s apartment. Inside he pulled out some pints of cookies and cream ice cream and some mint chocolate chip. He handed me a spoon and opened the containers and sat across from me.

“Do you want me to get a bowl?” I asked.

“Nah. Try to intuitively eat. Just eat until your body feels done.”

“So… eat until there’s a nationwide ice cream shortage?”

Max threw his head back laughing, “If we get to that point, maybe we’ll pivot to a new tactic, but for now, feel free to eat as much as you want.” He looked endearingly into my eyes, and I felt my gut rumble, whether by digestion or hunger, or both, I couldn’t discern.

As I scooped down ice cream, we chatted about hunger, about scarcity mindset when it comes to food, and he told me some interesting facts about digestion and how to make room in one's stomach faster than normal by laying on the left side.

“Is this the stuff people need to know for your personal training work and such?” I asked.

“Personal training stuff?” Max gave a look of puzzlement then laughed, “I think I said that sarcastically a while back. A few guys pay me to help them gain weight and eat big. So sort of a personal trainer, but kind of the opposite effect that most would expect.”

“Ohhh, this tactic makes a bit more sense now,” I replied, continuing to eat the ice cream.

“Well, I thought if I encouraged you to experience the ability to eat as much as you want without restriction, you’ll realize that you don’t have to eat everything. It sounds like you are always hungry, because you are always denying that you want food.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” I went to scoop up more ice cream then realized I’d eaten all of it.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, rubbing the top of my belly.

I felt a grumble deep in my stomach.”I can definitely feel my belly full of food, but I also could definitely do the whole thing all over again.”

Max considered me for a moment, then started listing off some random digestion facts again. He put his head on my stomach again, lifted my shirt off my body, listened again, took his hands and gently opened my mouth wide and peered down my throat, until I started laughing and he couldn't hold my mouth open.

“What are you doing? You think my stomach is gonna speak back to you in English?” I joked.

“No… but I wonder if I could better understand your hunger if I could better see inside your gut. Hmmm, maybe even just peering down your esophagus…”

“Don’t you need a fancy scope for that or something?”

“Not if you’re willing to relax your throat for a moment…” Max said. I shrugged, and he straddled my lap and shoved his head into my mouth. I could feel his energetic breathing against my tongue and wondered how on earth he could see anything down my throat with his head blocking light from the outside.

I heard a muffled “I’d like to see a bit further…” and felt him push his whole body forward into me. His shoulders shoved their way into my maw and stretched my jaw wide like an opera singer. I choked a little bit feeling his scratchy hair make contact with my uvula and the bottom of my tongue. I reflexively closed my lips over his skin and swallowed as the hair and breath tickled my maw. I realized that my peristalsis must have taken a bit of control, because I was surprised to see that I was looking down at his lower back with his arms pinned to his sides. I felt his nipples and pectoral muscles sliding against my tongue and felt his head squeezed tightly through my lower esophagus. What was going on? Though the sensation was filling me with dopamine and adrenaline, I realized that somehow my body was getting ready to eat a whole human, so I mentally prepared myself to try and regurgitate him. But instead I felt him force himself deeper into my throat, as his feet pushed off against the floor, and his upper torso wriggled and squirmed to slide deeper into me. I felt a sloshing in my gut, and heard a muffled intake of air and the continuation of more digestion facts being spewed out of Max’s ever curious mind obsessed with digestion.

Since Max seemed so intent on getting inside my stomach, and I knew I would need to breathe soon, I decided to help him out. I lifted his legs up over my head and felt gravity pulling him down my throat. I pulled his gym shorts and such off him and felt the interesting texture of his little belly over his abs, mixed with gym sweat and belly hair, felt past his hard on and groin, and his thick thighs as they all passed over my tongue and against my soft palate. My stomach finally began to feel full, as it sloshed with its soupy contents of dinner encasing Max’s squirming upper body. I knew Max’s hands had been freed from the tight grip of my esophagus as my inner stomach felt a peculiar tickling sensation with Max rubbing it from the inside. I felt him poke around and heard his muffled casual observations about my stomach.

I felt Max’s muscles seize up as he put his legs together tightly and let them slide easily down my throat. I felt his cold feet tickle my tongue, uvula and esophagus until they finally plopped into my stomach and I felt my throat open enough for me to exhale and breathe in more oxygen finally.

I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and catch my breath, feeling Max move around and curl up into a ball inside my tight stomach. I looked down to see the bulge his head made toward the top of my belly, with other odd bumps sticking out that I assumed were his knees and feet pressing up against my stomach walls. I felt his clammy hands push up against my stomach as he surveyed his new situation.

“Max, I forgot to write this craving down first.” I said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry I already did!” I heard him shout back, hearing it almost come up through my own throat. I stared in confusion at the opened notepad next to me and flipped to the last written note that read ‘Ice cream and everything else isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe eating me will do the trick. - Max’

My belly gurgled in surprise, “You planned for me to eat you?”

“I did shove myself down your throat, didn’t I?”

“But why would you -”

“Hey you didn’t try and stop me, bud,” he replied. I felt a pat against my belly, and shivered a little bit.

“Yeah, but I thought you just wanted to glance inside, but you wriggled in deeper!”

“Are you mad that I did?” Max asked. I felt him shifting his weight inside my gut and resting into me.

I considered the events of the night. I had really craved a day to just eat all I wanted, and Max gave all that to me and more. Even though I definitely didn’t expect him to force his way onto the menu, my belly felt much more satiated than it had been. “... I’m not mad at you… just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into… but I do have a confession.”

“What is it?” Max asked, shifting around and pressing his head up against the place where my hand was resting on my belly.

“I could go for some orange sherbert right now… I think your diet tactic failed.” My stomach added a large grumble and groan in agreement.

“Failed for you, maybe. But I’m cozy!” Max tried to stretch out a bit and I watched my stomach bulges shift in a funny manner, and felt my belly tighten and knead Max in response. “Plus, I think I figured out why you’ve been so hungry lately.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“That you should have eaten me ages ago! Once I’m digested into belly fat you’ll have more energy stored in your cells for longer, so you won’t be as hungry all the time! It’s simple science,” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not sure that science is sound, but as long as you’re happy, I’m fat and happy.”

“If you don’t think the science is sound, maybe you ought to repeat the experiment. Have a cheat day every once in a while,” Max replied, as he curled into a tight ball again and let my stomach relax and get to work over him. “I know I’ve been seeing that cute guy at the gym drooling over your gut, you know, the one who always wears that green hat? I’m sure he’d love to be a part of your next cheat day once you’ve had enough of your salads and diet again.”

I enjoyed the peace of feeling Max getting comfortable deep in my gut. I took deep breaths and felt my diaphragm move Max around slightly as my chest expanded and contracted. “Maybe I’ll ask him. But I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to take it as far as you did tonight.” I rubbed my belly and stared, mesmerized at the lumpy spots on my belly indicating Max’s body relaxing against my stomach walls. I felt his heartbeat in polyrhythm against mine, with his breathing patterns tickling my stomach walls. I tasted the lasting flavors of his skin on my tongue, mixed with ice cream and other sustenance I had downed throughout the evening. Good thing we worked out first, to balance out this sharp intake in calories. So I suppose even if I had a cheat day from my diet, eating a whole human balances out to be healthy, right?

#gayvore #male vore #m/m vore #fat

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stubz · 4 months

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late shift

Shuttle for Mars is departing now. Please keep hands, feet, tails, and other appendages clear of the yellow line.

‘Nice, finally get off work on time for once! Man is it empty, way less busy than the 5:45 one…

Are they sleeping? Please tell me they’re sleeping…’

“Snnrk…”

‘Oh good they are, oooh lots of empty seats next to them! Nice.’

The young human sits across the large figure and looks around.

‘Wonder why everyone else is sitting so far away from this guy? He’s not that much scarier than a Alteauh…OH! He’s an Orc! An actual Orc, oh this is so cool! Wait. Calm down, control yourself. Orc’s are people too, not some exotic animal in a zoo….he’s sooo cool looking tho!’

The human smiles and takes out their headphones and listens to some music and take in the view they see through the shuttle’s windows. From time to time they peek at the orc, can’t helping themselves from people-watching him.

Like what most humans imagined, he was huge. Easily more than 7 feet tall, with large calloused hands bigger than their head. He had large tusks but unlike the stereotypes he was well trimmed with well relatively kept hair. It would have neater had there not been dust in it. The orc wore dirty cloths and work boots. Beside them what looked like a tool box and bag.

‘Must be a construction worker or works in a trade’ they mused

‘Poor guy, he’s gotta be exhausted to sleep here. At least he gets to go home now.’

The shuttle shakes and with it so does the sleeping giant. Rocking side to side.

'That's not good.' They nervously slide off their headphones.

The turbulence increases until the sleeping orc leans too far and starts fall face first off his seat.

“OH SHIT!” Diving to their knees they manage to catch his head and shoulders.

“Mm?”

“You okay?” Damn he's heavy!

“Mmm…sorry.” Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he slowly got back into his seat, the turbulence now gone.

“No worries, I just didn’t want you to hit your head.”

“Heh, wouldn't be the first time I’ve done it.”

after rubbing his eyes a bit more and a crack of the neck he looks at them, brain finally working to some degree.

“…wait. You caught me?”

“Uh-huh”

“But you’re so small! Are you hurt?”

“You're not the first sleeping giant I’ve caught. I’m alright.”

“I am so sorry for that. I just finished working a 12 hour shift fixing the 1st and 3rd engine rooms and couldn’t help myself from dozing off.”

They whistle. “12 hours? No wonder you’re tired! If I were you I’d be in a coma.”

“Ah but surely you have a difficult job yourself. How else would you be able to catch me?”

“No, nothing like yours! I just work at a youngling centre.”

“The one on the ship?”

“That’s the one.”

“...YOUR ONE OF THE BRAVE WARRIORS WHO RISKED THEIR LIVES TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN??!”

“…you’ve heard of us?”

“Every orc and warrior worth their blade knows of your valiant deeds!! Tell me, what is your name??”

“Kim, uh and you are?”

“Fenrir. It is truly an honor to meet someone of your bravery and intelligence."

"Likewise! I've heard that the orc species are a true warrior race."

For the rest of the trip the two talked. Kim sharing how her and Max built such a safe room in the centre, which lead to the two realizing how similar each other's planets are.

"You have wind whirlpools as well? I thought they only existed on Bantor!"

"Well we call them hurricanes and tornadoes but yeah. Do you guys have hail?"

"Not where I grew up but nearby farther up they get a week or two of light hail showers during the fall. What about animals? Do you have reptiles bigger than an adult with large teeth and live in rivers? We call them darthrang."

"Oh we call them crocodiles!"

"Amazing! To think that your species live in a world much like mine!"

When the shuttle finally reached it's destination the two went their separate ways. A few days later they meet again, this time on the later shuttle. They sit and talk and create a routine of sorts where they became each others travelling companion for the trip to Mars.

One day however, Fenrir stopped coming. The human was saddened as she enjoyed his company but was soon surprised when seeing him at the centre.

"Kim! I've been transferred to stay on the ship so I won't be taking the shuttle to Mars anymore."

"Oh...well, as you know I only go home at the end of the week so maybe we can hang out now. Like eat lunch together or have a drink after work...or something like that!"

"Actually we'll be seeing each other everyday now. But if you don't get sick of me then yes, lets each lunch together."

"Great! But why will I be seeing you everyday?"

"Because after telling my family about you and the centre they've enrolled my nieces and nephews and younger siblings here...and I offered to drop them off and pick them up."

It was then that Kim noticed the dozen of orc children hiding behind Fenrir. The tallest and what looked the eldest of them stepped forward.

"Hello, I am Athea, uncle Fenrir said your one of the ones who saved the centre."

"Yes, my name is Kim. It's great to meet you AtheaaAA!" The orc girl pulled the human into a tight hug, lifting the adult woman off of her feet.

"Thank you for saving Nova." she mumbled into her chest.

'Ah, the Captain's daughter' Kim thought. "I was just doing what any teacher would do."

After a moment the human was put down and lead the children into the centre. The day went well. Fenrir's young family members were quickly won over by the humans, first with the saving of the centre, then with how they understood how wonderful their planet was rather than terrifying or deadly.

They were also greatly intrigued by how such a small species could survive in a planet that was thought to only be habitable to orcs.

"How can you carry us?" asked Thor, one of Fenrir's youngest brothers. "We're much bigger than a human child."

"Yeah but your not bigger than my cousins who are teenagers. Also just last month I had like 10 kids climbing on me. Two were tighalaxes."

"Your joking!"

...

"It that tumpon?!"

"Hm? We call it maafe, but it's also known as peanut stew, do you want some? It doesn't have any meat in it though."

"Guys Max has tumpon!! Can you tell Fenrir where we can buy the ingredients?"

"Of course. Finally I'll finish what gran gave me without having to gain 10 pounds."

And thus the first day ended on a high note! Now if only Kim could figure out why the children looked at her and nodded while talking to Fenrir...

So this based off of a post by @llamagoddessofficial about humans meeting actual space orcs. Sadly I can't find the actual post. but yeah, here u go, space orc and human meet cute

#the adventures of kim and max running a space child care centre #space orcs #humans are space orcs #humans in space #the beginning is something that actually happened to me #caught a sleeping construction worker who I sat across from on the bus when heading home from work #thankfully he was just a little taller than me and not a giant like fenrir #also my brother went through a phase of randomly doing trust falls in front of me so I am experienced in randomly having to catch people

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bellewintersroe · 9 months

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Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Max apologises to Leni for his actions prior to that evening. Leni doesn’t think she’s the one Max should be sorry to. Tension ensues. Kinda just a filler chapter.

Part 3, here is the link to part 2. Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow

My eyes lingered over the Dutchman, brows furrowing and stomach churning in a deeper guilt. I was meant to be working, having the lucky of doing it remotely, but a certain Max Verstappen was distracting me. It was quiet in the room that I sat in, that’s why I chose to sit there. I would be flying back to Monaco soon, a place that was starting to become my second home, before heading to Singapore for the race there. In the meantime, I wanted to spend time with my dad whilst I could, even if that meant working alongside him. “What’re you up to, Len?” He walked over, causing my trance on Max to fade. “Really boring documents.” I spun the laptop, sighing out with each work.

“Fun, why don’t you give it a rest and come look at the cars?”

“No, you’re a terrible influence!” I teased seeing him smirk in amusement. “I don’t even know what that stuff is, graphs? What for?”

“Comparing the growth over time of each client- ah, it’s not exciting.” I pulled my laptop back. “I have to get it done by 5 so..”

“Well if you fancy a break there’s some RB19’s that want looking at.” His brows perked, clearly confused as he scanned my work. Some of it was in French, due to the office being based in Monaco. I had to go in once a month or so for meetings, apart from that I’d bagged the most flexible career in scientific studies ever. I wasn’t sure how long it would last, my brains were there for it, but I had the tendency to get bored very easily.

“Okay, cool.” I muttered, getting back to my work.

During lunch, the area I was in got thankfully very quiet, that was apart from a certain Max Verstappen checking out his and Checo’s cars, analysing his test performances.

I felt a little awkward to call out to him, especially after what happened in the Uber. Even thinking about it made my cheeks warm yet my chest simultaneously drop from guilt. I would say mixed feelings, but the guilt clouded over anything else I felt towards Max. Even if I allowed myself for a second to day dream about him, the shame would creep up on me like no other.

I glanced up to him for a second, noticing he was glimpsing in my direction, he fiddled with his cap awkwardly and I felt my heart accelerate instantly.

“Everything alright, Max?” I broke the silence, thank god. It was becoming too much to bare. I acted focused on my laptop, but in reality I wasn’t reading a single word on that screen.

“Yeah.” He quickly spoke. “Are you?” His hand ran through his hair, messing it about slightly. He looked good like that, all dishevelled. He’d allowed his facial hair to grow out even more, not messy, just manly. I took a look of him up and down in his gym wear.

“Yeah, just working.” I shrugged. “Listen..” he suddenly spoke, making his way over as my eyes were now glued to the blonde man walking nearer. “Listen?” I had to play naive to what he was about to say, maybe I should act like I didn’t remember anything? Pretend it didn’t happen completely?

“I’m sorry for the other night, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.” He came over to the table I was sat. Uncomfortable? Why would he make me feel uncomfortable when I was the one who probably started out with these feelings in the first place?!

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” My laptop was pushed aside now as I stared back to him from the other end of the table. He wasn’t so good at eye contact, not when he was shy. I always thought he didn’t like me growing up, but in reality he was just an awkward, teenaged boy. Max nodded along. “You know you’d never make me uncomfortable.” I reassured. “Okay, good, I just got a bit worried-” “No don’t be.” I quickly spoke. “It’s just-” Max’s eyes were on me now, the blue reflecting against the sun making them seem brighter than usual. It took me a moment to actually get my words out, Max could look a little intimidating at times, and right now he did. “Maybe I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” He immediately rubbed over his face. “She went home, I never saw her.”

“Flew home?”

“Flew home.” Max nodded as I exhaled. “Jesus.”

“It’s my fault but now it makes it harder to… you know.” I cringed at his words. “Harder to what? Break up?” The question fell out my mouth, sounding a little harsher than it intended to.

“Do you wanna grab some food, you know, with your dad?” He very quickly changed the topic as I frowned a little.

“No, I’m good.” The two of us were staring back to one another, as though we were about to engage in some weird confrontation. I didn’t like it. It felt tense, and it never felt like this between us. Max nodded, and went to turn around awkwardly.

“Let’s just… like try to forget anything happened. Like forget you told me anything in the first place.”

“Leni, you know that won’t work..” “Whatever tried happened the other night won’t work.”

“Leni…”

“Max, I’m serious. I don’t want to know anything else about you and Kelly, I feel bad for her.” I got a little carried away as Max blinked back to me. He looked shocked, even I was shocked.

“Okay.” He seemed to perk after a minute or so. “I was drunk you know, sorry for opening up to a friend.” I let out a deep sigh at his words, watching him fully walking away now. I didn’t have it in me to say anything else, it was painfully uncomfortable in the room after that, the conversation remained heavy on my mind and you best believe I left there as soon as I possibly could.

I was walking out of the training grounds, bag full of all my work stuff as I struggled in the intense, Italian heat.

“Leeeeennnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A very dramatic call out of my name was the only thing persuading me to to turn back around.

“Oh, Lando!” I giggled out in amusement. The Brit jogged his way over, enveloping me in a quick hug. “How are you?” He questioned.

“Good, too fucking warm, but good- how about you?”

“I’m great, think I bagged myself a date for tonight.” He grinned. “Oh really? Who with?”

“Really attractive Italian girl, she’s called Mila. Look, I have pictures.” Lando pulled out his phone as I momentarily glanced up, only to see Max walking past with the same confused expression I had. I instantly looked away.

“Look, this is her…” he swiped through the pictures of the beautiful girl. “Wait, stop swiping so fast!” I laughed. “I’d pay to see your conversations with her. I hope you haven’t used anymore of those pick up lines.” I looked back up to Lando whose eyes roamed towards Max slightly.

“Oh is Max, hello!!” He waved out. Max gave out a kinda pathetic wave and half a smile with a quick greeting back before he headed off to the car.

“Well he seems happy, anyway, she…” Lando right, in a sarcastic sense. Max looked moody as hell, his jaw was tensed, even his walk was tensed. I hoped desperately I wasn’t the cause for that, and a slight panic washed over me at the thought of me causing that. Maybe I snapped a little earlier at him. Was I too blunt? I didn’t want to hurt his feelings… Fuck, my stomach was in knots, and when his car drove past, it really dawned on me how strong my feelings were for him. “She wears all these like Prada things, I think they’re fake but- are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, sorry Lando, keep going…” I was in fact not listening.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 x reader

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nyoomfruits · 5 months

Text

i somehow lost the ask but this was written for the ‘wanna practice’ kiss prompt with lestappen :)

The door of the dorm room swings open rather dramatically, banging against the opposing wall as Charles comes barging through, beeling for this bed and flopping down on it face first.

“Do I just suck?” He asks, voice muffled by his pillow.

“Yes,” Max says, not looking up from where he is working on his econ homework on his own side of the dorm room.

“You don’t even have any context,” Charles says, unburrying his face. Max glances at him. He’s pouting.

“Hm,” Max says, pretends to consider it. “No, my answer stands.”

Charles makes a dramatic strangled warbling noise and falls back into the pillows. Not for the first time, Max regrets becoming his friend. It was easier, back in high school, when they were sworn enemies. Lot less exaggerated sighing as Charles waits for him to ask him what’s wrong.

After the fifth sigh, a deep one that must be coming from the depths of Charles toes, Max finally relents. “Fine,” he says. “What happened?”

Charles looks up with entirely too much glee, happy to be indulged, as he says, “I think I’m like, unloveable.”

Max suppresses his snort as he thinks of all the people that would line up to get their shot with Charles Leclerc. “Sure,” he settles on. “Why?”

“I was making out with this girl last night and then she made this very obvious excuse and just left. And there was this guy, a week ago, we’d just been making out for like, maybe a minute and then he went ‘nope’ and left.” Charles has flopped onto his back now, staring miserably at the ceiling.

“Maybe you’re just bad at kissing,” Max says, frowning down at his econ homework.

“What? No I’m not,” Charles says, indignant. There’s a pause, during which Max scribbles some things down in his notes. Then, very quietly, “Oh my god, maybe I am.”

Max makes a ‘well, there you go’ motion, and hopes this means he can finally go back to finishing this assignment. It isn’t due for another two days, but there’s that paper coming up and he has time now, so-

“Kiss me,” Charles says. Max hadn’t even heard him move, but he’s here now, leaning into Max’s space like some kind of siren out of a Greek myth trying to lure him into the depths of seduction.

Or something. If anything, Max’s brain isn’t really working right. Charles is right there, in his space, hands leaning on the sides of Max’s desk chair, looking ridiculously… giddy, almost. Max had this dream once. But Charles had looked a lot more sultry and his eyes had been closed and he’d been sitting in Max’s lap instead of leaning over him and-

“Why,” Max says. In his haste to stop that insane train of thought, he forgets to phrase it as a question.

Charles pouts at him. His nose is inches away from Max’s. “So you can tell me if I’m a bad kisser.”

“Who says I’d be a good judge of that,” Max says, instead of outright ‘no’, because he’s a self sabotaging idiot. “Maybe I’m a horrible kisser.”

Charles tssk’s. “You and Daniel dated for like two years. If you’d been bad at kissing he’d dumped you much sooner.”

“Thanks,” Max says, frowning. “I think.”

“Come on,” Charles weedles. “Just see it as like, practice. For you. For when the next Daniel comes along.”

Max snorts derisively. The next Daniel is currently trying to convince him to kiss, so. Whatever. “Fine,” Max eventually says, because Charles is a stubborn little bastard and maybe if they kiss he will finally leave Max to his assignment.

Also Charles is still there, in his space, with his big green eyes and his stupid pouty mouth and Max is only a man, so.

“Yay!” Charles says, and then abruptly lunges forward to smash his lips against Max’s.

Their teeth clunk together and Max winces as his nose bumps against Charles’s, and he lets out a strangled little noise as he gently pushes Charles back.

He’s starting to see there might be some truth to the whole ‘Charles is bad at kissing’ thing.

“Wow, okay, let’s just,” he gently pushes a confused Charles further back and gets up out of his chair, so they’re face to face. “Maybe do it a little more gently, yeah? Like this,” He puts one hand on Charles chin, tilts his fac up a little, softly brushing their lips together before pressing a little harder, letting their lips slide against each other.

And oh, it’s much better like this, Charles following Max’s lead, his hands coming to rest on Max’s waist as Max’s hands slip into Charles’s hair, and he’s a little enthusiastic with his tongue at first, but he’s a quick learner, and for a moment there Max forgets all concept of time.

“Ah,” Charles says when he pulls away. There’s a frown on his face, like he's deep in thought. “Yes. I might have been doing that wrong.”

Max merely hums, still reeling a little bit from the experience, still feeling the faint touch of Charles’s lips on his own, not trusting himself to speak.

“Well!” Charles suddenly says, seemingly shaking himself out of whatever thought process he’d gotten tangled up in. “Thanks for that! I shall put it into practice now.”

It takes Max a while to understand what he means, but then Charles is putting on his jacket and grabbing his keys and oh.

He means with other people.

“Right,” Max says, trying really hard not to look disappointed. “Right, well, good luck.”

“Thanks!” Charles yells over his shoulder, before moving through the door, taking Max’s entire heart with him.

Max is left standing in the middle of the room, staring forlornly at his econ homework. It suddenly lost all of its earlier appeal. Especially when he can still feel the ghost of Charles’s finger tips on his waist.

#lestappen???? in this economy????#i kid #anyway excuse my characterization its Been A While #lestappen #drabble

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pink-princess-pussy-pop · 2 years

Text

Nothing but a babysitter - Steve Harrington Smut

MDNI! 18+ Content ahead. This is my like first ever time writing smut so... pls be nice. :)

Edit: Oh I am so so so going to hell.

Word Count: 5.4k

You and Steve are getting on each other’s nerves. After dropping the kids off, Steve begins to drive you home and you make a snarky comment to him about how he’s “Nothing but a babysitter” and Mr. Harrington does not like that.

Dom Steve x reader

Warnings: Uh smut, piv sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, edging, overstim, orgasm denial, creampie, squirting, mean steve, language, reader has a praise kink, i think that’s it?

WRAP IT B4 YOU TAP IT!!!!!

You had been pissing Steve Harrington off all goddamn day. You had recently been “inducted” into the group due to being Robin’s other best friend and quickly became close with Nancy. Steve on the other hand? Couldn’t stand you. He couldn’t understand how Robin, a band-geek who works at Family Video could be friends with a feminine cheerleader, but Robin swore you were cool. And if Robin was friends with someone, Steve had to be too.

But now, after spending the entire day with you keeping the kids safe from the newest baddie in Hawkins, Vecna of course, with no Robin or Nancy to help, he was absolutely fed up. You had done nothing but make snarky comments to him and he was thiiiiiis close to making you shut up.

“Geez Harrington, how many kids do you have?” Dustin laughed from the backseat where he was seated next to Max and Lucas.

“There are three more of us, actually. Steve is just such a great mom.” Dustin’s comment made the other two teens laugh and you stared wide-eyed at Steve.

“Three more children? Wow, I hope you are getting child support.” Steve rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles beginning to turn white.

“Shut up Henderson.” Steve’s handsome face was red which made you smirk. You enjoyed getting into his head, riling the perfect boy up. “I’m a pretty damn good babysitter.” Steve’s tone was harsh as he pulled into Dustin’s driveway. “All right, get out.” He put his hand on the back of your seat to face the kids in the back, something that made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten.

You’d always thought Steve was hot. But you knew he liked Nancy and besides, it was fun to mess with him, even if he drove your fantasies wild.

The three in the back got out of the car.

“Thanks Steve!” Dustin said and the other two waved. Steve’s fingers flexed off of the wheel as to say “You’re welcome” as he watched them get into the house safely. You glanced at him.

“You good, Stevie? You really are nothing but a babysitter. Don’t worry so much. Your kids didn’t leave for college...” You giggle and his knuckles turn whiter as he backs out of Dustin’s drive, his hand back on your seat to look out the window. You can’t help but glance at his arm. You can see his veins, his strong muscles gripping your headrest for dear life. Your stomach flutters and you blush. Why is this turning you on?

You are on the road again and Steve is fuming. He is going 50 in a 35.

“Steve, slow down.” He laughs darkly. His foot presses the gas pedal harder. “Steve!!”

“Shut up.” He doesn’t look at you. You stare at his hands, veins popping out, his long fingers clenching the wheel so so hard. Fuck, you wished he was gripping something else. You were majorly turned on at this point, Steve’s normally goofball demeanor out the window. This new, glare-y and fuming Steve was sure to leave in imprint in your brain, sure to haunt your dreams. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is.” He slows down to make a turn down a street with larger houses. “I’ve been trying and trying to be nice to you but you just keep making these fucking comments about me.” He swerves into the driveway of a large house and parks. “Get out of the car.” He turned the ignition and the car stopped. You fumbled for the handle to open yours and heard Steve’s door slam. You got out of his car and followed him up the drive to the front door. He unlocked the door and let you go inside first and locked the door behind him.

You stood in the entryway of his house, while he stood behind you. You felt his presence as he walked towards you.

“What did you say I was in the car? I just wanna make sure I heard you correctly.” He’s right behind you, his hot breath on your neck. He moves the stray hair that has fallen out of your ponytail off of your neck, his lips lightly touching you. Your whole body tingles. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this. “Y/N. What the fuck did you say to me? Don’t make me ask again.” His lips brush below your ear and you quite literally shiver. His hands skim up your bare arms, his fingertips touching you ever-so-slightly.

“I said you-“ you can barely think. “I said you were n-nothing but a ba-babysitter.” He places a small kiss right below your jaw. You sigh, melting into him.

“We both know that’s not true, right?” His hands travel down your body, his touch feather-light. Thank God for him being behind you or else you are sure your knees would have given out. “Answer me sweetheart...” Steve’s breath is back on your neck, and the heat rushes right down to your core.

“No. No it’s not.” Your voice is barely audible. You don’t think you have ever been so turned on by such simple touches.

Steve turns you around and grabs your jaw, forcing your chin up. You meet his eyes and what greets you are the eyes of a positively feral man. His usually kind eyes are dark with fury and lust, a combo that made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be feeling for Steve Harrington.

“Go upstairs.” His slight glare both terrifies you and turns you on even more. You take a deep breath and walk up the stairs, Steve trailing behind you. “First door on your left.” You do as you are told and open the door to Steve’s bedroom. It’s clean, which surprises you a bit. His large bed looks nice and soft. You glance around the room, jumping when Steve’s hands wrap around you. “Turn around.”

You do.

His hand travels up your arm to your neck, his long fingers wrapping around your throat. Your breathing hitches and Steve smirks.

“Don’t get all shy on me darling. What happened to the little bitch from the car? You had so much to say then.” You blush. What you had said in the car made him react like this?? “If you act like a brat, you’ll be treated like one.” His words make your cheeks flush even redder. It made your core swell and you were sure your underwear was soaked through at this point and you’re pretty sure Steve would see it dripping down your thighs sooner rather than later. You’d never been so turned on before. Steve met your eyes, his devilish smile making your thighs clench. He leans forward, dropping his head to your neck, breathing in your scent, before finally kissing your throat. You let out a sigh, dropping your head back whilst his grip on you tightens. His free hand travels down your front, reaching the top of your skirt.

“You gonna be a good girl and let me touch you?” Your breathing quickens. His fingers dip into the waist of your skirt.

“God yes. Please Steve.” You grip his arms while he sucks your neck, right below your jaw.

He grins and glances down, his hand releasing your throat and wrapping around your waist to unzip your skirt. You push your head into his chest as it falls, embarrassed for him to see your body’s reaction to his words. His fingers ghost over the hemline of your lacy pink underwear, making you shudder. You stare in disbelief as Steve moves his hands to rest on your waist, dropping to his knees in front of you. You blush so hard at the fact that he is blatantly staring at your arousal. His famous smirk returns as he looks up at you. Your hands are over your face, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

“Look at me.” He commands as he hooks his fingers into your soaked underwear. You force yourself to meet his eyes as he grips the sides of your panties. “Grab onto my hair, sweetheart.” Your hands thread into his perfect hair, so soft even Franchesca Stephens, the leader of the cheer squad would be jealous. Steve smirks before ripping your lace garment off of you, the torn fabric searing your thighs.

“Ow! Stev- oh shit. Fuck.” Steve is everywhere all at once. His head is between your thighs, rough hands and fingertips soothing the smarted areas. His kisses are hot and rough on your inner thighs, making you grip his hair. He groans, sending vibrations through your body.

“Baby, I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked.” His words make you more red, if possible.

Steve Harrington on his knees between your legs getting ready to devour you whole was everything and more you needed in life.

“Lie on the bed for me pretty girl.” He watches you do as your told, lust clouding his eyes. “Such a good girl for me.” Your hips roll into the air as he praises you. His strong hands roughly push your thighs apart, grinning at you with the devil in his eyes. “If you come, I will fuck you so hard you’ll beg me to stop. But I won’t because I know you want this. Or else you wouldn’t have pushed me till I lost it, right? This is what you want, right?” You are too flustered to respond. He blows air right on your throbbing core. The groan that leaves your mouth is inhumane.

“Do you understand?” You nod frantically, desperate for his mouth, his fingers, anything. Steve seems to read your mind and just like that, his mouth is on you. Your hips buck off of the bed and he disconnects his mouth from your body, glaring at you from in between your open legs. His forearm clamps down on your hips, forcing you back down. “Don’t fucking move. If you do, I’ll stop touching you and just leave you here, to finger-fuck yourself to an orgasm you’ll never reach because you’ll be thinking about my tongue on your pretty pussy and how you can’t make yourself feel the way I’m making you feel. So stay. Fucking. Still.” Before you can even breathe, let alone reply, Steve’s mouth is on you again. Your body is shaking from the pleasure he his giving you, from the fact that Steve Fucking Harrington is eating you out. You can barely think. His mouths clamps over your clit, sucking hard.

You gasp.

“Oh fuck. FUCK Steve.” Your hands tangle in his hair, making him moan into your dripping heat.

“Do that again.” You hear him mumble. He continues to devour you.

“What?” You aren’t thinking correctly, the pleasure he’s giving you going straight to your head.

He bites your clit which makes you moan his name so loud you’re sure his neighbors will wake up.

“Do that again.” It’s more clear this time. He dips his tongue inside of you, and to keep yourself from being left alone to fend for yourself, you grab at his hair, pulling so hard Steve has to bury himself into your cunt to contain the noises coming from his throat. His hand finds its way to your core, pinching your puffy clit between his fingers. Your hand clamps over your mouth to keep quiet. Steve suddenly stops, earning a groan from you. His hand that was previously holding you down grabs yours and places it on his head.

“Let me hear you.” Your wide eyes meet his, your arousal evident on his beautiful mouth. He is back on you in a second, sucking and sucking at your clit, fingers dipping into you. A moan rips through your throat and to Steve it is the sexiest sound he’s ever heard come out of a woman. He groans into you, something you’ve grown to love. “Fuck. Fuck. Such a good girl. for me.” His index finger finally slips into you, so easily since you’ve been wet since he placed his hand behind your head in the car.

“Steeeeve.” You manage out. He’s making you feel so so good. So much better than you could make yourself feel. He adds a second finger, moving in and out of you so, so slowly. “Steve - faster, please, please.”

“Honey, I’m the one in charge here. I’ll decide when I go faster or harder.” He removes his mouth, traveling up your body, the hand that was previously holding your hips to the bed slides up your stomach, rubbing your soft skin. He’s right above you now, licking the rest of you off of his mouth. Your breathing is scattered as his fingers slide in and out of your dripping cunt. His fingers increase their speed as he slides back down your body. Steve adds another finger, going deeper each time they slide into you. His mouth latches onto your clit again, making you groan. You feel your orgasm coming but his earlier words flash into your mind.

“Steve- Steve please. Steve I’m going to-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” his movements slow and his fingers still, remaining inside you, your inner walls clenching around him. He licks slowly at your clit. Steve had always wanted to edge a girl but he never had the chance. His tongue meets your body again which causes you to groan and clench around him once again. He stops, grins and looks up at you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other is fisting his dark blue bed sheets.

“Steve...” You breathe out, your chest heaving. Suddenly, he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh my fuck- Steve.” He looks at you while he lowers his head back between your legs, licking a long stripe up your cunt, collecting the cum leaking out of you. He can’t get enough of your taste. His tongue swirls around your clit once again, your orgasm racing back, the pleasure too much. You come so hard, you’re sure you get your arousal all over Steve’s face. Fuck. You weren’t supposed to do that. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He is going to ruin you. You shut your eyes tight, trying to calm yourself. Steve had just rocked your fucking world. Your chest heaving, your body shaking. Steve’s look could kill.

His voice is by your ear, sending chills straight to your still-dripping pussy. “What did I say?” You don’t respond. His fingers dip into you once again, making you gasp. “What did I fucking say?” His legs were on either side of yours, his jeans rubbing your skin. You could feel his hard-on. Fuck. Was Steve Harrington really about to fuck you senseless? God, you hoped so. “Y/N. What the fuck did I tell you I was going to do to you if you came?” You opened your eyes to find him right above you, his eyes dark. His breathing was staggered, breath fanning your face. “C’mon baby, I wanna hear you say what I’m about to do to you.” Your face flushed.

You tried to focus on your words and not on his fingers pushing in and out of you.

“You... You said you’d fuc-k...” His fingers curl to that spot again, “me so hard that I’d beg you to stop.” You breathe heavily, looking into his eyes. His thumb presses down onto your clit.

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t princess?” The new name has you clenching around him again, making his grin widen. He presses harder. “Answer me darling. Be a good girl for me.” Steve has caught on to your desires. He’s found out your secret. “You like that, don’t you, pretty girl? You like it when I praise you.” His fingers increase with speed, plunging deeper and deeper inside of you.

All you can do is nod. He laughs and kisses your throat.

“Just ask me and I’ll give you what you want.” He leans back, stilling his fingers again, but keeps the intoxicating pressure on your clit. “Y/N.” Harder. You moan, flexing your hips off of the bed. “I’m waiting.” You force yourself to look at him. He looks beautiful. His perfect hair messy, his lips swollen and pink, his mouth wet, cheeks flushed, heavy breathing, he’d never looked better.

“Steve. P-please fuck me...” You breathe. “Please fuck me until I beg you to stop.” He grins.

“Anything for you, princess.”

And for the very first time, Steve kisses you. Your hands grab for his hair, pulling him closer. He moans into your mouth.

“I’ve been holding back all day. You’re lucky I’m playing nice.” He growls into you before reclaiming your mouth with his. His hands return to your legs, wrapping them around his torso. They travel up your body, unbuttoning your plaid blouse from the bottom up. His kisses travel to your neck as he pushes the shirt off of your shoulders. Steve glances down your body, letting out a low growl that turns you on impossibly more. His fingertips gently trace the lacey edge of your pink bra. Your chest is heaving. Steve glances at you, the smirk returning before angling his head down to kiss the base of your throat, your collar bone, your shoulder, and...

“Steve...” He laughs. “Feels s’good.” His ego grows and he grins into your skin. He reaches behind you to unhook your bra and slides it down your arms, his eyes taking you in. You can’t help but blush, seeing him looking at your naked body while he is still fully clothed. He leans you forward, setting you back down on the bed.

Steve leans forward, a different expression on his face.

“If I...” He wets his lips. You can see he is trying hard not to lose control. “If I hurt you or if I’m doing something you don’t like, stop me.” His eyes are trained on yours. His expression is dead serious. Your lips part and you nod. “I’m serious, Y/N. I don’t want to-” You can’t take it anymore. Steve had promised that he was going to fuck you hard and if he didn’t uphold, you were going to be pretty pissed.

“Steve just fuck me. Please.” Your eyes are pleading with his. “Please.” You say again. “You’re in control, you always are.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. A dirty thought pops into your head. “If you don’t I’ll just go find Jason and-” His hand is on your mouth, his glare piercing through you.

“What the fuck?” You can’t help the smirk that crosses your lips. And Steve can’t help but notice it. “Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” His head dips down, his lips brushing yours. “I don’t think Jason could fuck you half as hard as I could.” His face is unreadable but you know for a fact that he is turned on - the evidence straining through his jeans. “Do you think Jason could do this?” His thumb brushes over your clit, making you gasp. “Or this?” His fingers plunge into your heat, making you groan. You are oh so overstimulated but Steve shows no signs of mercy. Your hands grasp his arm, desperate to slow his harsh movements but he pins them above your head with his free hand. You can see his veins again, sending another wave straight to your wet core. “Could he make you as wet as you are right now?” He looks down to where his fingers are plunging in and out of you at a feral pace. “Answer me.” Your brain is melting as you feel his thumb return to your clit, rubbing it in small circles, his fingers thrusting into you faster and faster. You scream his name as you come around his fingers. “Could he make you cum as hard as I just did?” His gaze is on your worn-out form. He leans forward to catch your right breast in his mouth, biting the peak.

Your hands fly to his hair, breaking through his strong hold.

“Fuck, Steve. N-No. He couldn’t.” You look at him and the sight before you is unholy. Steve’s fingers are covered in your slick and he puts them right into his mouth, sucking every inch of you off of him. You are sure you could come from the sight alone.

Steve realizes that something is very wrong about this scenario - he is still fully clothed. He sits up, letting you catch your breath and pulls his shirt off over his head. He too is out of breath. You make eye contact and you see his self/restraint snap. He surges forward, attacking your mouth. His mouth is feverish on yours.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N.” He rests his forehead on yours. “Look what you’re doing to me.” You look down, his bulge very visible through his jeans. You look into his eyes, a slight blush across your cheeks.

“Then let me fix it.” For a split second, Steve is shocked at your words.

“Y/N I-” Your hand is unbuttoning his jeans, shutting him up. His eyes are wide, his pupils blown. His brown eyes almost blackened by his pupils. His breathing is labored.

Your hand slips into the waistband of his Calvin Kleins and his lower body rolls into yours, eliciting a moan out of both of you. His head drops to your neck, kissing you. You debate on letting your hand go further but Steve’s husky voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Fix it.” His mouth on your neck makes you shiver. “You caused this. So fix it.” His tone is harsh. His head moves away from your neck and suddenly he’s right above you. “Fucking fix it.” Your timid hand reaches further into his underwear, grazing him. Steve lets out a guttural moan as you touch him. “Fuck baby, that’s so so good.” You wrap your hand around him, not applying pressure, and Steve hisses. “Fuck. Stop fucking teasing me.” His hand grabs yours, tugging it further into his pants. Steve’s dominant demeanor is crumbling at the touch of your hand.

You smirk, and slowly slide a finger from the base to the tip of his length. Steve shudders above you and then gasps as you take him in your hand and squeeze.

“Steve...” He looks into your eyes, a new fire lit inside them. “Don’t make me do all the work...” You lean forward, planting a kiss at the base of his throat and whisper, “I want you...” Your comment has his head spinning. He’s running the show and he needs to take back control.

“You asked for it.” Steve is off of you in a flash, tugging off his Levis and Calvins, leaving you panting on his bed. You don’t dare to look at him, you are far to nervous about the events to come.

Steve laughs. “Darling don’t get shy on me. You want this, remember?” He climbs back on top of you and you feel him. All of him.

“See what you do to me?” You blush, his praise going to your head. “It’s alright princess, you can look.”

You wonder how he can say such filthy things in such a sweet tone, but Steve Harrington has a way with words.

You lower your eyes down his body until you get to-

“Steve...” Your heart rate quickens. “It’s so... big.” He laughs before kissing you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit.” He lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you, his mouth covering yours and swallowing all of your pretty noises.

You pull away, looking down to see that Steve isn’t even halfway inside of you. He grins at you before slamming himself in the rest of the way, a scream ripping through your throat.

Your walls stretch deliciously around him and he’s already so deep. Your vision is spotty and Steve is occupying your thoughts. He’s everywhere all at once. He lets you settle for a moment before taking your hands in one of his and bringing them above your head once again. The feral look in his eyes is back and you can tell he is enjoying ruining you.

He pulls out of you agonizingly slow, which makes you whimper, desperate for more.

“Ste-Steve.” You sputter. “More, more.” He pulls back just enough to where his tip is the only thing inside of you. He slams back in, much harder than the first time and you moan his name. He shuts you up by shoving his tongue in your mouth, kissing you with such a force you are sure your lips will be bruised tomorrow. His free hand is around your throat, giving you a warning squeeze.

“Tell me what to do one more time. I dare you.” His hand grips your throat just a bit harder, making you gasp for air. He slides out again and just looks at you. A panting, whimpering, beautiful mess beneath him. And he wasn’t even finished yet.

Steve barely gives youq time to even think of a response before he’s ramming into you, over and over again. The hand on your throat makes its way down your body, his thumb making the tiniest circles on your clit. The sheer force of him plunging inside of you makes his headboard hit the wall.

“Princess, you’re so wet I’m practically slipping out of you.” You’re leaking out around him. “Is that all for me?” His finger stops its ministrations on your clit to gather some of your wetness. “Is this all for me?” You are moaning over and over beneath him and can do nothing but nod as he slips his fingers past your lips. Steve doesn’t even has to ask before you are sucking his fingers clean. “Oh fuck baby, so good for me.” He kisses you, tasting you once again which makes him want more. His fingers are back between your legs, collecting more of you on his fingers, putting them into his own mouth.

You can’t help but stare. This man, Steve Harrington, a man who you thought hated your guts, fucking you into oblivion while sucking you off of his fingers? It was a sight to behold.

His thumb was back on your clit in an instant, pressing down hard enough to make you scream his name fore the 10th time that night. He could feel you clenching around him. He could tell you were close. So he fucked you right through your orgasm. Your hands were desperate to hold something, pull his hair, but Steve’s grip on your wrists wouldn’t allow that. You came harder than the first time and you thought he would slow down.

He didn’t. He looked at your disheveled form below him and smiled, letting your hands go as he continued to fuck you through your high. He had done this. He had made you feel this way. But he wasn’t finished. He hadn’t come. Yet. He moved your legs to the outside of his so he could push them open further, allowing him to go deeper inside of you. With the new angle, Steve could hit the spongy spot inside of you and more. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling hard, making him moan. Suddenly, he stopped.

“Look down darling.” You could barely function but not wanting to piss him off further, you did as you were told. His hand was placed on your stomach, right below a bulge. “Baby I’m so far inside you, see?” It’s true. His dick is in your tummy. “I told you I’d make it fit, didn’t I?” He grins at you and without warning, slams back into you, his hands pressing your thighs down to keep them open. Your abused little cunt pulsating around him couldn’t take much more and your third but not final orgasm was approaching.

“Steve...” You manage out. “Steve, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your words are almost inaudible through your breathy tone. You wonder how Steve isn’t tired.

Then you realize, he hasn’t come. His brutal force is earth-shattering and you come again. Steve lets out a groan. His is rapidly approaching his. His hands leave your inner thighs and land on the bed on either side of you, the bed frame groaning against the force. You clench around him so hard, pulling him towards the finish line. His movements slow. As Steve tries to regain a normal breathing pattern, all you can do is stare at him. Not only had he given you the best orgasm ever, but also the best sex you’d ever had. Your hands brush through his hair.

Steve sits up abruptly and you can see a new idea forming in his mind, the devilish smirk returning to his pretty face.

“Ya’ think you got one more in you, pretty girl?” Your eyes widen. Another? He had just given you three mind-blowing orgasms and wants you to cum again?

He’s lowering yourself between your legs again. He’s going to eat you out, again. Taste the two of you mixed together. You can’t think. His hands rest on your inner thighs, so close to your core, and you clench around nothing at all. Tears form in your eyes. His fingers brush over your heat, the mixture of the two of you leaking out. Two of his fingers gather as much as he can and pushes it back inside you. The sudden contact makes you cry out. Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, you got another in you.” He places a kiss right above your clit, your hips rocking up, desperate for friction. He reaches up to grasp one of your hands as he lowers himself down to where you really need him. You get the idea and thread your fingers through his hair, latching on for dear life. Steve’s tongue dives straight into you, licking up all the extra cum. Your thighs clamp around his head as you moan. His palms flatten on your inner thighs, forcing them back down. Your hips roll into his face. He takes in a deep breath, reveling in your scent before diving back in. He devours you like a man starved, tongue in and out, licking up everything leaking out of you. You had heard rumors that Steve gave good head, but God fuck! Someone get this man a trophy because Harrington was a legend. His nose brushes against your overstimulated clit and you can’t help the animalistic sounds coming out of you. You tug harder at his hair which makes him dig his fingers into the sides of your thighs. You were definately going to have handprint bruises on your thighs tomorrow. His lips attach to your clit, sucking harder than before, fingers immediately slipping inside you.

You can feel it, the orgasm, and you are sure Steve knows it’s coming. His hands push harder against your thighs, fingers thrust deeper, and his mouth biting, sucking, anything to get you to the end. Your vision goes white as your body spasms. It’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Steve’s fingers haven’t stopped.

“Holy shit baby. You’re squirting.” You blush hard and try to close your legs in embarrassment. “No, keep them open pretty girl.” His mouth is on you again, collecting you in his mouth. You can’t believe this. You are so completely fucked-out and he is still going to town, intent on sucking every last drop out. He just can’t get enough.

Eventually, Steve stops, your breathing turns normal, and your heart rate decreases to a normal pace.

“That’s what happens when you piss me off, princess.” He kisses your neck before flopping down on the bed beside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into him. His breath fans your neck and you can’t help but smile.

Steve’s soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” You turn your body to face his, kissing him.

“Steve, I’m fine. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I may not be able to walk tomorrow but I’d say considering the circumstances, I couldn’t care less.

A beautiful smile crosses his face. You kiss him again.

He pulls you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head. You trace the freckles on his arms, taking in what just happened.

“I can’t believe you squirted.” His obscene comment breaks the silence.

“STEVE!”

HOLY FUCK THAT WAS A LOT.

There may be typos ahhhh.

Uhhhh I am so so sorry and I am so so going to hell.

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

For the requests: heard of hearing and/or partially blind Steve + his parents realizing. Maybe they come home & see how their house has changed to be more accessible for Steve? Or something like that.

HONESTLY THIS ONE HURTED. But as usual, you provide the quality shit!!!! Poor Steve, but also if it ain't hurt/comfort, then did I even write it? Everyone loves Steve. Except his parents. His parents suck. But everyone else? Angels. Hope you love it darling!!! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------------------

Concussions were a bitch.

Multiple concussions in a three year period were a bitch.

But the worst part was when he noticed he couldn’t hear out of his left ear. Robin had been talking to him at work on his left side, whispering about some customer that was walking down every single aisle as if they didn’t know what movies were out, and he didn’t even notice until she switched sides halfway through a sentence.

He pretended it was fine, that he’d heard her the whole time, but then she asked him a question he couldn’t answer. She walked to his left side and said something, and when he shook his head, she bit her lip, fighting back tears.

“It’s okay, Robs. I can still hear out of the other one,” Steve said to comfort her, but also to comfort himself.

If he lost it in one ear, he could lose it in the other, and then what?

She tried to convince him to get a hearing aid, but he didn’t think he needed one.

“Your parents sent you money for medical expenses, use it for this!”

But he couldn’t.

And then he started getting blurry vision in both eyes. The left was rapidly growing worse, and Dustin noticed.

“Dude, you’re squinting. Do you have a migraine? You could’ve had Eddie drive me.”

“Nah, just tired. Trying to focus.”

Part of that was true. The squinting helped him focus a little, but he knew he had to do something about it.

So he sat down with Robin and came up with a plan.

He hated every fucking second of it.

“You get a scan first, we need to know if this is gonna keep getting worse or what permanent damage is there. You get glasses-“

“I might not need-“

“You get glasses. Then you get fitted for a hearing aid.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve rolled his eyes.

But looking back, he was grateful Robin made him do it.

The doctors had been amazed he was able to talk with the damage done.

“Will I lose my ability to talk?” He asked, realizing that not being able to hear, see, and talk was too much for him to deal with.

“I think we can work through some physical therapy type exercises to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m glad you came in now and not a few years from now.”

Robin never said ‘I told you so,’ probably sensing that Steve wasn’t coping well with the news.

They told him he would most likely lose all hearing over the years, and his vision would progressively get worse, though it would most likely plateau and he wouldn’t lose it completely.

They said he needed to do vocal exercises every day, brain exercises as often as possible, and to come back the moment he recognized any change in his speech.

So he lived with the anxiety of not being able to communicate with anyone he loved every second of every day.

Dustin, Will, Mike, and Max had done research for weeks, finding things they could do to help him live in his house alone. Sure, they were there often, almost enough to be considered roommates, but that wouldn’t always be the case.

They would all grow up and leave.

Max had lost her own vision after Vecna, only able to see light and sometimes movement, but never any detail.

The day he got his glasses, she threatened him with murder if he didn’t wear them.

“The more you strain your eyes, the worse they’ll get. Wear the glasses. I’m sure you look just as cute as always.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, but he didn’t want to piss Max off, so he wore them all day every day.

Dustin had found a way to wire the doorbell to the lights in the whole house, so if it rang, and somehow Steve couldn’t hear, he’d see the lights flash three times from any room he was in.

He’d done something similar with the walkie, so Steve would know if someone was trying to communicate with him.

Will figured out a light system for the phone, where it flashed with green while it rang and red if he missed a call that went to their voicemail.

It only worked if he was in the kitchen, living room, or his bedroom and paying attention, but the thought behind it made him want to cry.

He got debilitating migraines frequently, which left him bedbound, unable to even get up to use the bathroom on his own sometimes.

They figured out a signal for his walkie that he could push the button in a sort of Morse code to make sure someone knew he needed help.

If he couldn’t get to his walkie for some reason, Dustin programmed buttons on all the phones: *1 called Robin, *2 called Eddie, and *3 called Dustin.

All of his meds were moved to the drawer by his bed, with a reminder note in every room of his house, just in case he forgot.

Which was apparently another thing he had to worry about: his memory.

The doctors seemed to think he would be okay if he stayed active and healthy otherwise, and definitely needed to avoid another concussion, but they did say he could notice some issues as he got older.

Mike looked up what vitamins he needed to help boost his memory and vision, and increased his iron intake to hopefully stave off some of the migraines before they even started. He put the instructions with his medication reminders all over the house.

But what surprised him most was what happened when his parents came home early on a random Thursday morning.

He was dealing with a bit of a migraine hangover, the day before being a blur of calling for help, reaching for his meds, and Eddie arriving to make sure he stayed hydrated and made it to the bathroom as needed.

Eddie was still here, in fact.

So when he heard them banging around downstairs, his eyes flew open and he looked at a still sleeping, very shirtless Eddie next to him in his bed.

Nothing happened obviously. Eddie just ran hot.

But his parents had already been questioning him a lot about not having a girlfriend in a while and hanging out with “queers” like those two things alone could make him gay.

And if they saw Eddie like this, they would make assumptions.

Assumptions that would get him kicked out of the house that everyone just worked so hard to make accessible for him.

So he got up as quickly, but quietly as he could, ignoring the buzz in his ear where his hearing aid was loose from sleeping in it. He wasn’t technically supposed to, but he didn’t like anyone touching his head on migraine days so it stayed in.

Eddie didn’t budge, and he hoped he stayed that way while he tried to keep his parents busy.

Then the lights flashed and he heard the distant high pitched ring of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” His father asked as Steve ran down the stairs.

“Steven?” His mother asked as he flew past them and made it to the front door.

“Steve!” Dustin yelled excitedly as Steve glared at him.

“Dustin, not now.”

“Why? I saw Eddie’s van, so I figured-“

“Who is at the door, Steven?”

Steve closed his eyes and heard Dustin mumble ‘shit’, before he turned around to face his parents.

His glasses were dirty, but he could see that the looks on their faces were not impressed.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” His mom asked.

“Is that a hearing aid?” His dad added.

“Dustin, I’ll call you later.”

“Answer the questions.”

“I started wearing glasses and the hearing aid after a few concussions that caused a lot of damage.”

“What’s going on with the lights? Do they always flicker like that?”

Steve hadn’t really expected them to care much about him, but it still hurt a little how quickly they became concerned about the house instead of him.

“They’re a visual aid so if I’m not wearing my hearing aid or my hearing gets worse, I’ll know when the doorbell rings.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yeah, it is,” Eddie said from the stairs, luckily not shirtless.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve’s dad didn’t waste time with pleasantries, he never did unless someone had something to offer him.

“I’m Eddie. Steve’s friend.”

“His friend?” Steve’s mom was hesitant to be obvious about what she meant, but everyone could understand where she was going with the questioning.

“Yeah, or would you prefer if we were boyfriends?”

Steve couldn’t help the snort he let out.

Eddie wasn’t the type to hide himself away, but he wouldn’t purposely make Steve’s life harder.

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

“I was taking care of him yesterday. It got late so I stayed.”

“Take care of him?” His mother turned back towards him. “Are you sick?”

“I get migraines.”

“We all get migraines, Steven,” his father said as he crossed his arms.

“But we all don’t get the kind that leave us crying and throwing up for hours on end because we can’t even see straight, do we, Richard?” Eddie asked as he walked closer to them.

“I don’t know who you think you are-“

“I told you, I’m Eddie. And as far as I’m concerned, I, and quite a few other people in town, are quite good at taking care of Steve. Unlike his parents.”

“Steve’s a grown man-“

“Yeah, now. But where were you when he wasn’t and got the concussions that caused this?”

Steve could feel his head pulsing, and he knew his migraine would be back at full force if he didn’t rest.

He took his hearing aid out for a bit of relief, the volume of his father and Eddie arguing going down considerably.

He massaged his neck the best he could, knowing that the release of some tension would at least keep the pain at bay until this could be over.

Then, he saw the phone start flashing green.

“What is going on with the phone?”

His mother directed the question at him, but Eddie stopped berating his father long enough to answer her.

“It’s so Steve knows it’s ringing if he happens to have his hearing aid out like he does now. In case no one is here with him and someone needs to reach him.”

“That explains not answering our calls.”

“I think that could just be that you don’t call at all.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve.

“Go upstairs, Stevie,” he said quietly into his right ear. “I can handle them.”

Steve was too tired, too frustrated, too borderline on a migraine to fight.

He walked upstairs, ignoring his father’s protests, his mother’s pleas, and Eddie standing in front of them both raising his voice to be heard.

Everything felt blurry as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes when he made it up the stairs.

His room was dark still, the blackout curtains still drawn closed, lights off, like Eddie had suspected it might be a bad day again.

His pills were on the table, a cup of water next to them. He set his glasses down and took them, trusting that Eddie followed the instructions perfectly.

He always did.

He always took such good care of him.

He came at the drop of a hat, even if Robin was already here. He brought Steve’s favorite soda, insisted it helped with migraines even though it probably didn’t. He massaged the spot on Steve’s neck that always held the most tension, pulled him close until he fell asleep on the couch or in the bed, always on his chest.

He’d been learning and teaching everyone sign language too.

Steve had started learning immediately, and so did Robin, but Eddie had insisted on it too, and started teaching the kids. He’d been showing Max one sign at a time, putting her fingers and hands into the movement so she knew how to do it.

And Steve didn’t think he could love Eddie more.

But he figured if Eddie was interested in him, he would have made a move already.

He could very distantly hear Eddie’s voice saying something, but he wasn’t sure what. With his hearing aid out, he usually couldn’t hear anything downstairs from his room.

He closed his eyes, settling under the blankets so he could try to do what Eddie wanted him to.

He drifted in and out, tired, but not quite enough to fall asleep all the way.

At some point, Eddie had made it back to the room and got in bed, his hand running through Steve’s hair gently.

“Eds?”

“It’s alright, Stevie. Your parents are gone. They won’t be back again for a while.”

“Mkay.”

He let himself drift again, safe with Eddie there.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #hurt/comfort #hard of hearing steve harrington #visually impaired steve harrington #steve harrington has terrible parents #he also has migraines #but he also also has the kids and eddie #so thats a plus #requests #ficlet

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leclerc-s · 3 months

Text

track 005. jugaste y sufrí

─── ❝ yo ya no quiero sufrir, quiero ser feliz ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

lando norris so i guess oscar unknowingly became a dad??

ollie bearman why is that where you brain immediately goes?

mae jones his brain needs to be studied under a microscope.

checo perez can i leave now?

dulce perez si yo tengo que sufrir tú también tío! checo perez ya me voy. daniel jones-ricciardo unless austin shows up in texas or vegas. checo perez mierda.

fernando alonso sergio! there are children here!

bailey winters have any of you tried locking them in a closet?

penelope trevino hmm. that might work.

ollie bearman what she needs is therapy. sebastian literally said she was afraid of falling in love. AUSTIN MADE HER CRY IN MIAMI!

arthur leclerc she would've cried over anything. she's an emotional person.

dulce perez have you see the group picture? max verstappen she was crying over tangled.

daphne jones-ricciardo i cry over tangled too. it's a beautiful movie.

pierre gasly that's because you are rapunzel and daniel is flynn rider.

arthur leclerc but yes, she does need therapy.

logan sargeant has anyone seen oscar? we were supposed to meet up for lunch?

oscar piastri i forgot sorry. logan sargeant YOU DITCHED ME?

max verstappen go have lunch with zoya or something.

zoya torres what the fuck? why are you signing me up for things? max verstappen if you show up one more time to my apartment crying over your ex and hoping to steal my cats were going to have problems. zoya torres it was only twice. mae jones it's been 7, he started keeping track. there is a board on our fridge and everything.

dulce perez hey, you know who else is missing?

daniel ricciardo-jones SHUT UP!

ollie bearman she's with me!

isabella perez i am not missing dulce! i told tio checo where i was going

logan sargeant oh it must be nice to not get ditched by your friends. i wouldn't know BECAUSE OSCAR'S A TRAITOR!

oscar piastri how exactly is it my fault that thing 1 and thing 2 showed up at my hotel room at 6:30 in the morning and dragged me out to breakfast?

ollie bearman you're lucky it was 6:30 isa dragged me out of bed at 6. isabella perez WE LITERALLY MADE PLANS THE NIGHT BEFORE OLIVER!

fernando alonso i was unaware isabella and oscar had acquired a grid child

oscar piastri bella has a grid child not me. i don't want him ollie bearman you're a horrible father. ollie bearman i hope you dnf in monaco oscar piastri i'm not your dad! ollie bearman good. i wouldn’t want you as my father. you’re horrible and you suck! isabella perez oh great, now you've made him sad oscar!

oscarpiastri, isabellaperez, and olliebearman posted new stories

i'm going to die with her behind the wheel. that smile is plotting murder. what is it with drivers and showing up in team gear to everything? they will also sleep anywhere, as shown by ollie. i feel like i'm interrupting something.

alex albon did you or did you not go out on a date with oscar?

isabella perez no, i did not go out on a date with oscar.

george russell i call bullshit! i saw ollie’s story! esteban ocon i agree.

charles leclerc wasn’t she out with oscar and ollie? how is that a date?

pierre gasly aww a family date! isabella perez i’m going to murder you gasly

natalia ruiz boys, leave her alone.

isabella perez it wasn’t a date! ollie was there!

alex albon which means if ollie wasn’t there it totally would’ve been a date

lewis hamilton when will the day come where all of you learn to mind your own business?

pierre gasly pretty much never

mae jones isa, it was a fucking date if i’ve ever seen one. trust me on this one.

isabella perez yes, i'll take advice from the people who had a fwb relationship, a situationship, and someone who broke up with her ex because she was afraid.

isabella perez really the only one's who should be giving me advice are esteban, george, alex, and lewis.

pierre gasly you're mean sometimes.

mae jones and for the record i wasn't afraid!

alex albon explain things i wish you said? charles leclerc or you're losing me? esteban ocon or exile? mae jones OKAY I GET IT!

sooo, how'd the date go?

it wasn't a date logan.

oh sure and ollie wasn't third wheeling the two of you.

he wasn't?

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST HAVE YOU SEEN HIS STORY?? YOU ARE IN L-O-V-E!!

how can i be in love?? i barely know her

okay, fine, you have a crush on her.

no, i don't.

yes, you do. i know you pastry!

you don't know shit. i don't have a crush on her.

oscar, either i'm fucking blind or you're stupid but you, my australian friend, have a massive crush on her.

fuck off

no, i don't

sure buddy, and i'm not from miami

but you are?

exactly my point.

logan sargeant he's got the l-word

lando norris leprosy??

daniel jones-ricciardo how the fuck did your mind go to leprosy?

lando norris bailey and i watched ice age last night.

bailey winters max, you're performance in that movie was amazing

max verstappen i will take lando out.

pierre gasly the way his season's going he'll take himself out first. lando norris literally fuck you gasly. i know you and esteban are going to take each other out at least once this season.

logan sargeant OSCAR'S IN LOVE!!

arthur leclerc WITH WHO?? logan sargeant i cannot believe that sentence just came out of your brain.

dulce perez my sister i assume??

logan sargeant well, it's more like a crush but that counts right??

daphne jones-ricciardo and you came to this conclusion how?

logan sargeant denial is always the first sign, no?

carlos sainz it is like lando when he said he wasn't in love with bailey! lando norris we are not talking about me.

isabellaperez posted a new story

paddock dad isabella, are you okay?

super max are you depressed? honey badger did austin call again?

duckling i'm okay. i think.

duckling i'm feeling things. i don't know if they're good or bad.

paddock dad therapy helps. duckling so i've heard.

super max good things or bad things?

duckling I DON'T KNOW!!

duckling feels are hard. i don't want them anymore.

paddock dad sorry kid, you're stuck with them forever. duckling SEB! MAKE THEM GO AWAY!! paddock dad i can't isa. you have to face them.

duckling here's a thought, what if i don't? i could ignore them, they'll go away eventually.

super max you've already tried that isa. it's not working out that great for you.

honey badger already tried that kiddo. maybe it's time to talk to someone?

duckling i'll call my mom!

paddock dad that's better than one of us.

isabellaperez posted new stories

my mother won't answer the phone, who's more important than me?? her baby?? her pride and joy??

nothing like a good ole lana song to cry too.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @lorenaskaspersen @sarah-thatstings-ann @My-fangirling-outlet

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! OLLIE IN F1!! LET'S GOO!! i also couldn't help myself including that ice age joke. does this qualify as angst?? i don't think so? this has also been sitting in my drafts for ages.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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sweatervest-obsessed · 6 months

Text

Never Gone

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 3.8k

TW: S4 Stranger Things triggers, drams, blood, injuries, migraines, Swearing

A/N: Based off of this request. I had a lot of fun writing this request! Thank you so much for asking me to write it. I haven't written Steve in a hot minute, so that was really nice to revisit him <3

When Steve heard that you had headaches, he almost didn't think anything of it---keyword is almost.

You had always been one to get migraines, and this was exactly that time of month anyways. First of the month, migraine. It was like clock work.

Which was ironic to you considering it felt like ticking was nonstop in your head the past week.

Luckily for you, it was a Saturday, and you could stay in bed. You hadn't been scheduled at the library, and your dad was running around, chauffeuring your sister, so the house was empty and you could die slowly in your bed from your headache.

Steve didn't even knock, he just slid the window up, and crawled through to your bed.

"Hey gorgeous."

You hummed a response as he took his shoes off and slid into your bed. He was dressed in his yellow sweater and sweatpants. He knew he was coming over to lay in bed with you all day, and nothing else.

When he wrapped his arms around you, you moved in closer to him, your face against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was calming---sometimes it felt like it was melting the headache away.

"How's your head baby?" His voice was soft and low, as he ran his hand up and down your back.

"Feels like it's pulsing my brains out of my ears, so nothing new."

He placed his lips on your forehead.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, listening to one another's heartbeats, just enjoying each other's company.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“How’s Max doing?” You whispered to him.

He tensed up a little bit. It’s not that he wasn’t thinking about the red headed girl down in the Wheeler’s basement, it’s just that you didn’t exactly know what was going on with the kids he ‘babysat’, and he didn’t want you to find out either.

“She’s–uh, She’s been better. She’s still, uh, sick. Really bad head…..” His voice trailed off as he stared down at you.

You gently called his name as he trailed off into thought.

His eyes widened as his heart started to beat a little faster. This was just your usual monthly migraine right? You always got these—there was nothing out of the ordinary….right? Were you hearing ticking? Were you having nightmares? What if you—-

“Steve?”

His eyes were wide, and you could feel how shallow his breathing was. “Hey–hey, I’m sorry I brought her up.”

He shook his head and looked down at you. “How’s your headache?”

You shrugged and slid your hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb ran gently across his face, looking into his eyes to see if you could find anything wrong.

“I wish you’d stop ignoring me and answer.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and paused. “Steve I did…”

“No.” He huffed and pulled away. “All you did was shrug. That’s not a real answer.”

“Steve.”

He sat up and moved away from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come here today. I have so much shit do today other than to sit in bed with you while you bitch and moan about your head.”

Steve had shocked you into silence as your eyes began to well with tears.

“Oh great. And now you’re crying. Did you ever realize how fucking annoying it is to constantly have to cheer you up all the time. Don’t you think I have other things going on in my life that need me more than you do when you’re sobbing about fucking anything.”

“What the actual fuck steve.”

Steve was sliding on his shoes. “You know what, y/n? I don’t need this bullshit. I don’t need your bullshit.”

“Wait—”

“No Y/n. Wake up.”

You froze and frowned. “What?”

“Y/N!”

Your eyes shot open and you were suddenly back to your position where you had been previously, laying down, tucked securely in Steve Harrington’s loving embrace.

“I–” You went to speak but you noticed Steve’s eyes were suddenly filled with that worry from before, but there was something else starting to cloud over—fear.

“What did you see?”

“What?”

“What. Did. You. See.”

“Fucking pushy harrington.” You grumbled as you pulled away slightly.

“Y/n…”

Your eyes rolled as you looked up at him. “It was just a daydream Steve. A bad one. W—We were, uh, arguing.”

“About?”

You shook your head. “Nothing Steve, really. Just something stupid my brain made up.”

“I–.” Steve bit his lip and sat up. “I need to make a call real quick.” He was out of your bed before you realized what was happening, and was suddenly across the room at your desk where your phone was. He picked it up and quickly dialed a number. All the while, you were sitting up on your elbows, watching him. Your headache was not going away which wasn’t uncommon, but rarely did they stay this bad for this long.

Steve was muttering into the phone, clutching it really tightly. Every now and again, he’d look over at you. You’d furrow your brow and he would seem to get even more worried than before. You had caught some of the words, like Max and No Absolutely Not, no I’m serious Dustin it’s not happening.

You were beyond confused as to why Steve was talking to the kid he babysat, or why he even called him in the first place, but all you knew was that your head hurt, and Steve, who was usually your rock, was getting all jumpy and acting really fucking weird.

Once he hung up the phone he gave you a sheepish smile. “So, uh…”

“What’s going on Steve?”

“We’re taking a field trip.”

You snorted laid back down, not entertaining this anymore.

“I’m serious Y/n.”

“I think you’re delusional but okay.”

“Please.”

You sat up once more and looked at him. Something about the concern he felt about your little maladaptive daydream, made you slightly worried about your headache. But he loved you, and if it would make him feel better about it, you’d humor his worry.

“Fine. But we’re stopping by the diner and we’re getting food and shakes before we go where we’re going because I want something to eat.”

“Okay but, we really don’t—”

“No Steve. That’s my final offer. Either I get my milkshake, or I’m staying in this bed.”

He huffed from across the room, but walked over and sat down next to you on the bed, taking your hand. “Fine. If it will get you out of bed.” He was feigning annoyance, but you could see the mild relief in his eyes at you agreeing to indulge his anxieties, with little to know explanation from him.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Seriously Steve?”

“Please, just…”

“Just what? You bring me to the Wheeler’s basement, filled with a bunch of children, including your ex-girlfriend and my former best friend, all the while knowing I have a raging migraine happening, and then you expect me to not ask any questions.”

“Well–”

“No Steve. Seriously. Then you go and try to tell me that you’re going out with a really weird group of people, no offense guys.” You didn’t even glance at the group staring at you both. “To go what…traversing into the woods to look for someone who has serial killer allegations, and you want me to come with you, with not a single explanation as to why.”

“He’s not a serial killer–” Dustin tried to cut in but you shot him a glare.

“If you heard me Henderson, I said allegations. Might want to turn on those listening ears.” You turned back to Steve. “Tell me what’s going on, or I’m just going home Steve. I’m seriously not in the mood to deal with this.”

Steve was just looking at you, alongside the rest of the group. This felt so out of character for you to be so openly bitchy in front of people, and you had never had an issue with Nancy before. You’ve actually always really liked Nancy so why now?

“Y/N. Please…”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Drive me home or I’m walking.”

“You can’t be serious right now.”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response, you just turned around and walked right up the stairs. Steve, who was just as exasperated as you, looked between his friends and they all were unsure what to do. It’s not like they wanted to drag someone else into their messy world, but they didn’t want you to die just like the rest of those poor high schoolers.

When they all heard the front door slam shut, Steve jumped at the sound and then quickly ran up the stairs and followed.

Y/n

You could hear as Steve called your name, but you kept on walking. You were so in your own world, you completely missed where you were walking. You fell and hit the ground hard. When you looked at your hands, they were covered in dirt and grime, which was unexpected for Mr. Wheeler’s lawn, but you didn’t think anything of it until you looked back up and the sky was red. You heard your name again but it wasn’t Steve’s voice, it was grovelley and at least four octaves deeper. Yet you still called out for Steve anyway, hoping he might be there.

Why would he chase after you? He doesn't care about you.

You looked up at the..thing…in front of you and shook your head, trying to escape whatever hellscape your mind conjured up.

But the voice wouldn’t leave you alone. It said your name again, and you got up off the ground, taking off. You didn’t dare to look behind you as you ran through this wasteland. Your heart was beating irregularly fast and you went and hid behind a building, trying not to breathe heavily as tears slid down your cheeks. When you looked around you realized you were close to Steve’s neighborhood. It was some sort of fucked up version of Hawkins.

You really think I can’t find you Y/n?

You whipped around, coming face to face with one of the grossest things you could possibly imagine. It was like all of his flesh had been burned off and the skin that grew back, grew back like vines, twisting flesh and muscle. His eyes were the scariest part, since they looked right at you, as if you were a piece of meat.

You slowly backed away from whatever this thing was, but your heel caught the curb, and down you went—landing hard on back, your head hitting the ground. There was definitely going to be bruising afterwards. You landed on your wrist, causing you to scream out in pain.

Whenever you were little and had sleepovers with your friends, your favorite game was “Never Have I Ever”. It’s not that you were boring, you actually enjoyed showing off how much you had done as you got older. But your starter was always “Never have I ever broken a bone”. Not anymore.

The crack was audible.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes opened and you were on the ground in front of the Wheeler’s—your wrist bruised, and head pounding. Steve was crouched in front of you, one of his hands on your cheeks and nothing but pure fear in his eyes.

“Holy shit.” He whispered, yanking you into his chest and holding you tightly. He felt you start to shake as you silently cried into his shirt, overwhelmed by the pain you felt and by what you had seen.

“Shit shit shit.” Steve’s hand was fisted in your shirt and his hand in your hair.

Your head was on his shoulder, and as you opened your eyes, you made eye contact with Max. Her walkman was in her hands, as if she was ready to shove it at someone. Max didn’t look like everyone else in the group, she seemed sadder, more resigned. Something you felt you could resonate with.

You couldn;t see them, but you knew the group of kids on the other side of Steve were whispering to one another. Dustin cleared his throat.

“Why don’t we go back inside, yeah? We need to look at her wrist.”

Steve muttered something in agreement, and pulled back slightly, both hands still holding onto you. “Are you okay?”

“My wrist.” you whispered, flinching just thinking about it. You decided you’d tell Steve about what you saw later. Right now, you really wanted to wrap your wrist up, and lay down.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Steve, you've got to be joking.”

Usually when Steve would huff out of frustration, you’d find it cute and endearing, but right now you found it annoying.

“Why would I lie to you about this?”

“I-I don’t know but I think you’re hanging out with kids too much—no offense.”

The kids muttered various forms of protest and agreements, but it was Robin who spoke up next.

“You have no idea how much I wish he was lying—like when I first found out it was in a secret russian base and I honestly didn’t even know what was happening and then we got tortured and—all that to say–it’s real.”

“Is this the shit Eddie was telling me about? The new strain or whatever, that ‘hits different’. Are you giving kids drugs Steve?”

Steve let out a groan and dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t.”

You crossed your arms, which was a bit more difficult considering your arm was wrapped up tightly with gauze, and fitted in one of Mike’s old wrist braces. “You have to hear yourselves right? Think about it from my point of view. You’re telling me you're friends with this…girl, who has telekinetic powers, and that's the reason that Byers kid went missing, and then you’ve fought different otherworldly monsters each year since? And now, you’re fighting this Veneca, Vatican, whatever bullshit guy, who is actually murdering people and the town drug dealer is taking the fall for it?”

Everyone in the basement was silent.

“She’s got a point, we sound fucking crazy.” Max was the first to speak up.

“Language.” Steve muttered. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time you’ve been down here. He was watching you as if you’d disappear.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You all sound crazy.”

Steve looked over at Robin, and they had one of those really annoying silent conversations. You looked between the two, trying to figure out whatever they were thinking.

Just then, Robin got up from her seat. “Alright kids, let’s head upstairs for a moment. Give these two some time to figure this shit out. “

The collective of children groaned, but Nancy helped to corral them, giving you a sympathetic smile as she went up the stairs behind the gaggle, closing the door softly.

Steve had moved to sit down next to you, pulling you down so your head was in his lap. And before you could make a snarky comment about it, his hand was in your hair, playing with it, but also massaging your head. His other arm rests across your stomach with his hand on your hip, rubbing his thumb up and down soothingly.

The two of you stayed like this for a couple of minutes: you were destressing, and him reassuring himself that you were alive and in front of him. He was humming your favorite song under his breath, causing you to smile a bit.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true.”

“I want to believe you Steve but…”

He sighed and nodded. “Remember last summer?”

You closed your eyes and nodded slightly, images of Steve’s face and body flashed across your mind. His entire face was bruised, and his torso…you didn’t like to think about it. You draped your arm across his and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “How could I forget Steve. You looked like you were beaten to death.”

“It was from the Russians Dustin was talking about.”

You frowned and looked up at him. “Steve….”

“Look, you don’t have to think it’s real, you can call me fucking crazy for all I care, but I really just need you to trust me—humor me if you have to. But I can’t….I can’t lose you y/n. So please just…indulge me and….”

“Does it really mean this much to you?”

Steve nodded. “Please.”

“Alright baby. What do you need me to do? “

_____________________________________________________

You didn’t see Steve for the next forty-eight hours, and it worried the shit out of you.

You were not one to believe in all that bullshit story Dustin and the others were trying to tell you about, but you knew something was wrong since Steve had literally disappeared.

You were still having headaches, but you listened to your favorite song over and over and over again, as much as you could. Luckily for you, you had a few blank cassette tapes, and a new stereo that held up to four cassettes. So you loaded your favorite song on a loop onto three of them, and then your favorite album onto the fourth, to add some variety. And you had been playing those on repeat for the past two days, just like Steve had told you to. When he didn’t show up the next day like he promised, you grabbed your walkman and your stereo, and drove over to Steve’s house, just to find it empty.

So you stayed there for the next twenty four hours, and that’s when the earthquake hit. It was terrifying, waking up and watching as everything went crashing to the ground. All you could do was think about your parents, think about Steve.

It wasn’t until eleven pm when you heard the front door open. You had been sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one of Steve’s sweaters, near the fireplace since the power had gone out because of the earthquake. He looked up at you, and you swore you could commit murder at the sight of him.

“Oh my god Steve. What the fuck happened to you.” You were by his side before he could even respond. Your fingers gently flit around his face, taking in all of the scraps, and then moving to his neck, where you could see the angry red skin flowering with bruises underneath.

Steve loved you for so many reasons, but right now, he loved you the most for not asking questions. You didn’t ask him about the weird combat outfit. You didn’t ask him why he was covered in dirt. You didn’t ask him why his neck looked like barbed wire had been around it, and you didn’t ask about the fact that he was limping.

You just slowly cupped his face in your hands, and kissed him softly. There wasn't any sort of push to make this kiss more than it was. It was just simply to tell him you love him. A reminder he’s with you.

“Can you make it up the stairs?”

He nodded and you took his hand, taking into account how bruised and scraped up his hands were.

“I was so worried about you. They kept finding bodies and then….the…”

He nodded, still not speaking. If he opened his mouth he would start sobbing, and never stop, and he didn’t want to burden you with that just yet.

You opened the bathroom door in his parents room, and walked him inside. You both were smart enough to make him take his shoes off before making your way upstairs, one less thing to clean up. But you made him sit on the toilet, as you slowly took a look at his injuries in a better light. You slowly helped him out of his jacket, noticing that it took a lot more effort than usual, since he was wincing, and even hissed out in pain during one particularly sharp movement.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Harrington, I’m seriously not in the mood for how you downplay everything.”

He bit his lip and shook his head. “I’ll be in bed in a few minutes. Why don’t you go get ready.”

You raked your eyes over him, not enjoying the sheer amount of blood splatter on his clothes and shook your head. “No I’m—”

“Please.”

When his voice cracked, you caved. You leaned over and kissed his forehead. “If you need me for anything Steve, and I mean anything ... .Please call for me.”

He nodded and took your hand in his. “I’ll be five minutes max I swear.”

You whispered an okay to him before you left him alone in the bathroom, heading back downstairs. You grabbed the bottle of vodka from the cabinet along with some of the cranberry juice Steve had bought you at the beginning of the week, and then a bag of his favorite chips, and headed back upstairs. You had a gut feeling he hadn’t eaten in a while, and that he was in a lot of pain.

Ten minutes later, he appeared in the doorway. You were in his bed, under the covers, head resting against his pillows, softly in sleep.

He tried to quietly get into bed without waking you up—he failed. Not because he was loud, but because you always knew when he got into bed next to you.

“Sorry sweetheart.” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You shook your head and went to curl up in his chest, but he shifted slightly and adjusted your hands so they weren’t touching his stomach. You decided to continue to hold in your questions once he had gotten some sleep.

“How’s your headache?”

“It’s gone.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder. “You need some sleep Stevie.”

“I–..” He closed his eyes and licked his lips. “I was so worried I was going to lose you today.”

“Steve…”

He shook his head, and you let him finish. “And then…I thought…I was going to die without ever telling you just how much I fucking love you.”

Tears filled your eyes immediately. “Steve. I–”

He kissed your lips softly, not letting you get your words out. You could taste your tears in the kiss, but then you realized you werent the one crying. You felt a sob wrack his body, and you immediately kissed him back with more force, more love.

When you pulled away, you rested your forehead on his. Whatever he had just endured, whatever he was going to tell you about when you both woke up, was an issue for later. Right now, all you had to do was hold him in your arms, and be so grateful that you could.

But while Steve fell asleep, you just played with his hair, staying up for the second night in a row. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was that creature, looming over you and laughing. The clock still ticking in the back of your mind. You could hear his laughter as he told you to give up.

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