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doveypink · 8 months

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the fire and the flames (that’s you) [megumi fushiguro]

summary: a cold morning leaves you needy for warmth. word count: 2.2k warnings: not sfw (minors dni), gn!reader (vague anatomy), college-aged characters, established relationship, fluff and smut, unprotected sex. a/n: this is set shortly after stay a while, but can be read on its own! title comes from the song prescription by remi wolf <3

Megumi’s room is freezing when you wake up.

Despite resting your head on his chest with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped securely around you, you can’t help shivering. You internally curse Jujutsu Tech for building dorms with terrible insulation; it’s like they want to kill off all their sorcerers. With a groan, you try to get closer to Megumi to steal his warmth. Your leg is thrown over him, and your thigh brushes against something hard. Your boyfriend makes a noise in the back of his throat, rousing awake in an instant. A silence befalls you both. Your jaw drops.

Oh.

“Megumi… are you—?”

He cuts you off, groaning. “It’s cold, I can’t help it.”

You stare, unmoving, as a thought enters your head.

Megumi’s cheeks are tinged red, and he looks at you through tired, half-lidded eyes. “Don’t,” he says simply, a warning. He knows you too well.

“Don’t what?” You try to say innocently, but the rising grin on your face is severely unconvincing.

The messy-haired boy grimaces like he’s in pain, trying to shift away from you, but it only makes the situation beneath his sweatpants worse. “Get off,” he whines, gently pressing a hand against your waist.

“Let me help.” Your voice is soft despite the grin on your lips.

Megumi gives you a disapproving look, his lips parted in protest, but you start up again before he can speak.

“Come on, babe. We’re here, we’re alone… When are we going to have another chance? I’m only here for another week, Gumi.”

Your boyfriend stares at you, his features softening. You do have a point; you’re only visiting for the few short weeks that are winter break, and after that, the date of your next visit could be anyone’s guess. He’ll be busy exorcizing curses (“Sexily,” you would add), and you will return to college. It was hard enough just trying to get clearance from Principal Yaga and the higher-ups for you to visit Megumi here, and he already knows it’ll be hell trying to go visit you. Sorcerers are always short-staffed; the boy is lucky that he’s even had some time off this winter.

With a small sigh, Megumi tugs you closer, pulling you on top of him. “Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, finally giving in.

You’re all too happy to follow his lead, leaning down to kiss him. He puts his hands on the back of your thighs, sliding them in place on either side of his waist. While your lips are locked together, you gently grind your hips against his. Megumi grunts into your mouth, and you smile. You can already feel a small wet patch on the front of his joggers. He rubs up and down your thighs, soft and unhurried. You break the kiss to breathe, noting how he involuntarily tries to chase you, not quite ready to separate. A faint laugh passes over your tongue.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper against his parted lips.

The boy’s face flushes, and one of his hands moves up to press against your cheek. His thumb traces the outline of your face, stopping to rest at your chin. He has a saccharine gaze, his long eyelashes fluttering as you circle your hips. The motion causes little puffs of air to escape him, a quiet but visible indication of his pleasure. It always surprises you how tender he is in these moments, given that he spends the better half of his days blank faced or scowling in annoyance at minor inconveniences.

You whine, flustered by his benevolence. Megumi laughs — really, it’s just a short huff through his nose — and he lifts you off of him just enough for you to kick off your shorts. You feel the cold air prick your skin and grunt at the provocation. Your lover’s sweatpants are shoved down to his thighs, and you wear a look of devilish satisfaction at the sight of him. You hover above him, fingers wrapping around his shaft to spread the precum dribbling from the tip.

Megumi hisses, blunt nails digging into your knee. Any other day you would tease him, dragging it out until you’re both tangled and messy under the sheets, but you’ve gone too long without your boyfriend. Something twists in the pit of your stomach, and you know that if he’s not inside you soon, you might actually lose your mind. So you raise your hips, lining him up with your entrance before easing down inch-by-inch.

He slides in easily, both of you already wet enough just from grinding against each other. Megumi twitches, his breath hitching as you sink lower. You’re tight, and your walls have to stretch to take the full length of him; it really has been too long.

The moment he bottoms out inside you, Megumi makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Not a second later, something warm floods inside you. His shaft twitches against your walls, emptying himself without so much as a warning. Your boyfriend’s face turns bright red, and he clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle a moan.

You don’t move. He’s still inside you, spurting warmth into your body as you stare at him in disbelief. “Gumi… Did you just—?”

“Shut up,” he says quickly.

You have a shit-eating grin on your face. “You did! You came so fast—”

“Shut up,” he groans, covering his face with both hands.

With a horribly unflattering cackle, you lean down to remove his hands, kissing his red cheeks. “Aw, baby, did you miss me that much?”

He’s glaring at you, trying to turn his face away. “Stop, this is god damn embarrassing.”

“No, it was cute—”

“It’s humiliating—”

“It’s hot,” you say sincerely, still grinning. “I’m flattered, honestly.”

Megumi stares at you, seriously wishing that he could throw himself under the sheets and die. After a pause, he mumbles, “I wanted the first time back with you to be… good.”

Your features soften, trying your best not to tease him anymore. He really is sweet to you, and it would probably be too mean to provoke him any further. You kiss him, gentle and chaste. “We have a whole week, babe. It’s not the end of the world. And, you know, we could just try again now.” You wiggle your hips as if to prove your point.

Your boyfriend tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. He hesitates, seemingly unsure of how to respond. “…Really?”

“Yes, baby. I missed you,” you soothe. Your hips start to roll against his again, and he hardens like he’s been brought back to life. “I was lonely without you.”

“…Okay,” he agrees quietly. Suddenly, his hands grip your waist a little harder than before, pulling you closer. His eyes are full of want, holding you firmly as if you would ever want to leave. “Let’s make up for it, then.”

You instantly feel heat pooling in your stomach. You lean forward, mewling as he holds you flush against his body. A hard clench around his shaft has you balling your fists into the sheets beneath him. Your head drops onto his shoulder, squirming in his grasp.

Megumi kisses the top of your head, soothing your lust-fueled actions. His breaths are ragged as you clench around him, and he holds you tighter. “I missed this,” he says into your hair. “Missed feeling you.”

He’s gentle despite the filthiness of the situation, and it drives you a little insane. You roll against him harder, your hips sliding onto him with ease thanks to the cum he so kindly spilled inside you prior. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck, muffling your whines of pleasure.

Megumi, always so quiet, is desperately trying to hold back his own sounds. He replaces moans for soft grunts and shallow breaths that warm your skin. His nose is buried in the top of your head, dizzied as he breathes in your scent. He starts to thrust upwards, meeting your hips with a gentle slap of skin against skin. His length slides out halfway, then pushes all the way in at a steady, mind-numbing pace that has you holding your breath.

Your boyfriend grabs at your thighs, caressing the skin as he pumps into you a little faster. “I need you,” he groans, his voice breaking as he speaks. He doesn’t like to talk much during sex, but when he does, it sounds absolutely beautiful; especially right now, with his desperate little groans and suppressed whimpers.

You match his thrusts, breathing out slowly. “I’m yours, Gumi. I’m all yours.” The sheets beneath your hands are wrinkled from how tight you grip them. With a hard clench around his shaft, you grunt, trying to hold yourself together. “I love you, I missed you so much,” you whine.

Megumi pulls you down for a kiss, breathlessly pressing your lips together. When he parts from you, he slides a hand to the back of your neck, keeping you close so he can look into your eyes. The eye contact makes you flush, your whole body warm with desire. He exerts enough self-control to slow down, keeping you steady as he fills you. Your eyes grow heavy lidded as he admires you, and your hands move to grip the front of his shirt instead.

Megumi cups your face, a look of gentle concern on his handsome face. “Are you okay?” the boy asks quietly.

You laugh, your hands flat against his chest. “Do you really have to ask that?” As if in response, you squeeze down on him again. Something about his constant attentiveness is thrilling to you, even in moments of passion.

“Of course I do,” he says easily, a light chuckle blowing past his lips. He leans you towards him for another kiss, releasing a low moan in the process. The boy can already feel himself getting close. “Do you want me to pull out?” he whispers, rubbing your thigh.

“Fuck no,” you hiss, denying the notion fast enough that it makes him laugh again. Your walls pulse around his shaft, drawing him further in. “Just… stay right there,” you plead.

Megumi kisses you again, deeper this time, before parting with a small grin. “Okay,” he murmurs before thrusting upwards again at a faster pace.

Your voice is a low warble as he takes you deeper. One of his hands holds the back of your head to keep you in a kiss, while his other hand grips your waist. Your moans are muffled against his mouth, and you both become a little lightheaded from the messy embrace.

Megumi groans against your mouth, and you shiver, squeezing your thighs around his hips. “That’s it,” he encourages you, pushing you further into him. “Just like that.”

The familiarity of your incoming high draws in, and your thighs tense with anticipation. He’s slotted inside you like he belongs there; you whimper pathetically at the thought, burying your face against his neck. “I’m close, baby, please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what exactly you’re begging for.

Megumi’s chest vibrates with a low growl into your ear, making you clench down on his shaft. “Cum for me,” he says, shaking as he nears his own release. He stops bothering to hold back his sounds of pleasure, and a throaty moan from him causes you to sway your hips a little harder.

“Fuck,” you sigh, feeling him push harder against your hips. You’re teetering on the edge of your release, clamping down on him with your mouth gaping open as you pant.

Megumi grits his teeth, and he can’t take it anymore with the way your walls tighten around his length. He grunts, snapping his hips up harshly to empty himself inside of you. Large hands hold you in place as he grinds against you, not stopping until he knows you’ve finished.

With the warmth that fills you, it isn’t long until you cum. You feel yourself tip over the edge, clenching down on his still-twitching shaft and coating him in your own release. Grossly wet noises fill the room as you weakly bounce on his length, letting it all out as the collective high washes over you.

Megumi releases a long breath, holding you tight until you’ve both calmed down. Slowly, he helps you pick yourself up off of his length. He slips out of you, and you leak with cum. The sight makes his cheeks warm; you lay next to him, letting the liquid form a pool of glossy white beneath your legs. Your boyfriend leans over to kiss you, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“Good?” he asks, tracing his hand from your neck down to your back.

“Good,” you echo. When you shiver, he sits up to pull the blanket up, warming you both. The sheets tickle your skin, and you press your chest against Megumi’s to get cozy. Your hands snake under your boyfriend’s shirt, and he jolts in surprise.

“Your hands are freezing,” he utters, brows knit together in concern.

A snort of laughter escapes your throat. “That’s okay. You’ll warm me up.”

“Not that I have a choice,” he mumbles. “Don’t you want to shower?”

With an exhausted groan, you say, “In a minute. Too tired to move.”

Megumi hums in acceptance, securing you against him. When your eyes droop and your breathing slows, he doesn’t bother trying to move. He watches you in quiet admiration, feeling inclined to go back to sleep himself. He presses his lips against your forehead and begins to close his eyes, lured in by your peaceful expression.

Megumi was never a fan of the cold weather before, but now? He doesn’t think it’s so bad.

#dove writes #dove spice #c: megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x y/n #jjk x y/n #megumi smut #fushiguro smut

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hotchfiles · 3 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ lay down with me ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: they find out maybe bars aren't all the same. content warnings: alcohol, suggestive talk. not proof read. word count: 2.1k

"were you... brushing your teeth?" yeah he was. and yeah they were still on the jet, but as soon as they got back to hq he would be on his car for the 45min ride to arlington to see you. he couldn't risk bad breath on your first date.

before aaron could even answer emily's inconvenient question, derek came in with another one "hair freshly cut too, anyone noticed it?" well he cut his own hair, it would be simply rude not to look his best when he so easily could.

he knew jj was coming in with something too when she passed by him, so he had to cut it out before "hey, enough. i'm meeting an old friend after work, just trying to use my time wisely here." his eyes scanned the room for the reactions and even though no one replied, he could see all the little smirking around and whispering between emily and derek mostly.

so much for a private life.

he's not the hiding type, if he's in a relationship he has no problem letting people know it, as long as that is it, he enjoys keeping the details to himself. and right now that's all he can really say about you, you're an old friend, just an old friend.

for now.

he was running late now, and very stressed about it. of course it wasn't the greatest of ideas to go from quantico to arlington by driving instead of taking the train, but he wanted to have the choice to take you somewhere else if you wanted to and to get you home safe when the date ended. he was also aware that trains didn't run as late as he might be staying.

he planned the haircut, the hotel shower right before leaving, brushing his teeth while in the jet, having his car ready, but god, did he not plan for the traffic he would have to deal with after 6pm.

but he's a gentleman, so he calls from the car system to warn you about it and he's nervous and anxious because not being present enough and being late or not there at all ruined his marriage and he wants to do better, he really really wants to.

"oh don't worry babe, i'm still enjoying my wine in my living room. thought it would be better to wait 'til you were in town to leave, yeah?" aaron hopes the loud sigh of relief he let out isn't so obvious to you, but it is. you find it endearing. you were reading essays still just minutes ago, you understood him.

you weren't very sure how well would you two work considering that. but you sure as hell wasn't going to give up without at least trying it. and definitely not without a fight.

"send me your location then, i'll pick you up in... twenty."

"uuuh, picking me up? look at us, it's a real date date now, curfew's at 10pm then, don't forget it." you make him laugh easily with that, your father was a strict man, sometimes you both went to the movies or the park nearby and if you got home at 10:03 was enough for him to sit aaron down in your living room and tell him all about responsibilities and how he was the boy and so he was supposed to protect you and ensure you were home in time.

"i am curious about what the consequences of not following the curfew will be this time though." oh he's teasing you now, as if this wasn't your first date and the implications of consequences weren't so... suggestive, to say the least. but he feels comfortable enough for that.

"guess you'll have to wait and see then, agent hotchner." your voice drips like honey and he's pretty sure he just figured out some sort of deep ingrained fetish he didn't know he had until now. "see you soon, airhead!" you laugh innocently before finishing the call and it drives him mad in the most delicious way.

he thinks those are the most torturous 27 minutes he's ever had to go through his life, but the feeling is completely overrun with almost childish glee as he parks in front of your house. he could fit the choice for a house instead of an apartment easily on your own profile but he didn't need too, you liked your space. apartments have no space. no privacy. he remembers vividly of a conversation you both had after your cousins were forced into an apartment because of your aunt's divorce.

he dries his palms on his pants quickly not sure if he should go to your door, stay where he is or what. he hasn't done this, the whole date ordeal in a while and it just got to him that he has no idea how people do it these days. what's too much or too little?

aaron finally decides on leaving the car and waiting near by, after sending you a quick text to inform you he was there. it was a middle ground of sorts, he felt confident in it. kinda.

it doesn't take you long to leave and lock your door and the sight of you immediately takes his breath away, your smile takes him back some years but your thighs remind him quickly that you are both definitely not fifteen anymore. he shakes his head softly, directing his eyes to a more suitable place for a first date: your hands. you were holding a flower bouquet.

flowers.

"fuck." he mutters to himself in frustration, "i forgot to bring you flowers." you don't seem bothered about it, in fact it makes you smile more as you hand him the bouquet in your hands. "you got these... for me?" aaron grabs the gift softly with both hands, afraid he's going to break it somehow.

"yeah, wanted to test my theory that you're still a sap." the way his eyes were shining and his lips turned into the sweetest of smiles were enough proof to you. aaron was always loving, caring, soft. it was interesting seeing him on the news nowdays, stoic, serious, unbothered. you wanted to see how easy it was to break him.

turns out very easy. at least to you.

"a sap! i'm surprised i got flowers from a beautiful woman, sue me." he opens the passenger door so you can get in, which you quickly do with a cheeky smile on your face, the gift is carefully placed on the backseat before he's back to your side, seat belt on. nosy as you are, you're already typing some address on the gps.

"i heard people talking really good things about this place." you muse while he turns the car on, already following the instructions. "apparently the beer is great and it stays open til late." he doesn't ask for any clarifications, if that's where you want to go, that's where he'll take you.

the food you've both ordered hasn't arrived at your table yet but aaron has already gulped down two large beers and is trying so very hard to not show how annoyed he is, it makes you laugh, hard. he follows, laughing along and shaking his head.

"who told you about this place?" he asks accusingly, you take a sip of your own drink and pretend you didn't hear it. "who?"

"i don't want to tell you."

"your students then. you trusted a bunch of twenty somethings with our date. pitiful." you don't reply, instead you just keep laughing to yourself while you drink. the place is loud. loud music. loud college students. loud busy street. you tell him that's exactly the type of place you would hang out with your girl friends to hook up back in london, his experience isn't the same, the lover boy committed since high school.

"how do they even get to know each other over this nooooise?" laughing at his annoyance only lasts so long and now you're the one not being able to sort through your thoughts, the food is good though, you both agree while munching on the appetizers that accompany the beer.

in retrospect you should've imagined it would be this time of place by the countless mentions of beer whenever a student recommended it.

"look around, i don't think they're actually trying to." you follow his gaze and notice that as the hours passed, the more couples formed and the less they were actually talking. exactly as it was in your own college days. "i'm a bit tipsy so i'll let my curiosity win, you never told me why you divorced the second time." it was out of the blue, you told him the first one wasn't that bad, conflicting views on family and you both married too early in the relationship. the second one was... harsher.

"bastard cheated on me." you shrugged, but it was obvious it still got to you, aaron could see it in your eyes, in your voice tone, and that had nothing to do with being a behavior analyst, and everything to do about how he just... knew you. "his whore also pressed charges against me when i wasn't even trying to hit her, she just got in the way." he chocked on his beer and almost had to spit it out after that tiny little piece of information you hadn't mentioned before.

"you have a record?"

"he made her drop the charges when i left the apartment to him without a fight. that's why i moved back to the states." he blinks once, twice. maybe he should be worried, but he also knew that could get a bit aggressive when losing control. just it always happened to terrible people. "i'm obviously joking, airhead." the relief he feels is followed by an annoyed face for believing such a lie, you touch his forehead softy, smoothing the lines so he doesn't look mad anymore. he takes it as a sign, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles, then your hand, and pulls you to him, letting go to touch your chin.

if he wasn't drinking the proximity would inebriate him alone, the way your eyes closed and your cheeks blushed in anticipation, he's sweet, lips touching yours with tender patience, much more patient than you, you who lifted your body just a bit from the chair and pulled him by his collar to deepen the kiss, almost causing a disaster if any of you fell over the table with all the glass cups.

you let him go just after hearing some snickering from the table behind yours, not blaming them for it, it probably looked like an awkward kiss from the outside. but it wasn't.

"that was certainly better than our first one..." you smile sheepishly at him, putting your hands on your lap, nervous.

"you blushed and gripped my shirt." he says looking deep into your eyes, making you tilt your head slightly, showing him your confusion. "it's been thirty years, you did the same thing... you blushed and gripped my shirt."

"so you're telling me you make me feel like a school girl."

"i'm telling you you've just acted like one." you take the comment as a challenge, getting up and taking your chair with you to sit closer to him, brushing your lips to his before going to his ear.

"you're drunk and staying over, so why don't we get a taxi and i'll show you the school girl." you can see the way his neck shivers at your little teasing, but he takes advantage of the new found closeness to kiss you again, with much more hunger but also much faster than the first because he's ready to pay the tab and get out of there.

it wasn't really that hard to find a taxi, being a night time neighborhood, they knew to stay around. aaron had your bag on one of his hands and the other on your thigh. your arms went around his and your head laid on his shoulder. none of you talked the whole way there, just feeling each other's presence and the alcohol twirling around your minds and your stomachs.

and you did show him you were not a school girl anymore when you both got to your house: you got him your largest t-shirt and pyjama pants, your coziest blanket and after you both changed and took aspirins to try and prevent the headache that would inevitably come, you got your pillows and went to the living room and laid on your big couch with aaron, cuddling with him as some tv show re-run lured you both to sleep.

it was almost 2am, and while you could take him to your bedroom and take his clothes off like you wanted to, you both knew it was the middle of the week, he had to wake up early to get his car, you would probably pass out under him anyway.

cuddling was more than enough for a first date. and at least for aaron, he was sure he wouldn't let go of your embrace anytime soon.

#lari writes sometimes #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader

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fuxuannie · 11 months

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↳ pairing : miles morales x g-neutral reader

↳ synopsis : (first part of) sfw alphabet with miles !!

↳ authors note : could contain astv spoilers ?? i think i'll do another alphabet w a spiderverse character soon when i finish this!! ive been working on a hobie fic but his british is killing me PLZ save me im SOBBING its being delayed just cause hes british thats crazy

— ❥ Affection - is he the affectionate type?

☆☆ I think Miles is really affectionate with his partner, holding hands and all of that. Tries to be a romantic (and fails sometimes cause hes far too silly for that) but he's doing his best!! Affection is definitely very important to him so :)

— ❥ BEGINNER - is he new 2 relationships?

☆☆ Definitely, you'd be his first love and so he tries his best with you. He'll make sure to take you out on good dates, meet your parents, make like thousands drawings of you in his sketchbook and just generally try to hide the nerves of being in a relationship. Of course, Miles isn't perfect, but you understand that and just accept him nevertheless.

— ❥ CUDDLING - does he like 2 cuddle ?? how does he like 2 cuddle :)) ??

☆☆ Cuddling is a need, it is a requirement. He will demand cuddling at least once every day just so he feels something in his cold and empty soul. (he's being sarcastic, please cuddle him hes so sad when you don't)

— ❥ Domestic - does he wanna settle some day ?? how good is he at household chores ??

☆☆ Miles is a teenager, that kind of thing has yet to cross his mind or atleast think of it super seriously. But he would love to move in with you at some point, make you breakfast in bed and stuff like that. He definitely used to help his mom when he was younger, just gives off the vibe :))

— ❥ Ending - how n why would he end things with you ??

☆☆ The only thing that would push Miles that far is for your own safety. When he dates someone, he doesn't wanna do it just because you two like each other, he dates to stay together and not for a fleeting feeling that'll come to pass. But it hurts him more to leave someone he still loves, but knows its for your safety <\3

— ❥ Fiance(e) - marriage? commitment?

☆☆ I mean, same reason with the letter D, he's a teenager so that thing doesn't really cross his mind. He does like to joke around that he'll propose to you with a bagel or something.. (uh oh)

— ❥ Gentle - is he gentle physically and emotionally ??

☆☆ He tries his best to be. He understands how a lot of things can be overwhelming and hard to understand, so whether you need his emotional or physical help he's always willing to give it. He'll give you words of affirmation or hold you till you feel better. :)

— ❥ Hugs - does he like em ?? does he hate em??

☆☆ Miles LOVES it when you hug him, especially when you initiate it first. He'll sometimes pick you up and do a little spin because it makes him that happy T_T♡ Please hug him, he needs it badly after everything

— ❥ I love you - how long did it take for him to say it ?? does he say it often ??

☆☆ Miles took his time when it came to finally saying 'I love you'. He wanted to make sure that he'd mean it, and will continue to mean it while you guys are together. When it comes to saying I love you, he wants it to be in appropriate times and places but he usually says it when hes sleepy and just has no filter at all.

— ❥ Jealousy - does he get jealous often ??

☆☆ Yes and Miles makes it very obvious. You find it amusing every time he'll pull you by your waist towards him so he can hold you by his side. He'll urge you to continue your conversation, but the person you're speaking to can tell he is one minor inconvenience away to picking you up and just running off. (he'll only ever act like this if the person has clear intentions that were NOT approved of by him)

— ❥ Kissing - does he like kissing ?? how does he like 2 kiss ??

☆☆ He does the upside down kiss at like any given moment while he's on patrol. HE LOVES DOING IT he thinks its the most silly thing ever and the way the first time he tried it, his web snapped and he fell before he could kiss is ENGRAVED in your memory. Of course, he'll enjoy smaller kisses like on the nose or on his forehead cause it makes him feel soso soft.

— ❥ Little Ones - is he good with kidz ?!

☆☆ HES AWFUL. have you seen the scene with him and Mayday?! He has never held a child a day in his life, he will call an infant baby 'bro' or something and try to take it skateboarding. He will try if you have younger siblings, it's like training to get into the family; if you can handle the little menaces you are welcomed <3.

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv imagines #sfw alphabet #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #miles morales imagines

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setsugekka · 11 months

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❥2:30am (m)

lee minho x fem!reader — exes/established relationship, angst, explicit sexual content. [2k wc] cws: toxic relationship!!, possession/jealousy, smoking, alcohol, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon(?), oral sex (m/f), hair pulling, dirty talk.

Watching Minho struggle to light his cigarette in the breezy, chilled, November air reminds you much of how you've stopped asking him to quit a long time ago, knowing he never would, at least not with the badgering. You eventually realized that the badgering made him want to light up even more—be it out of stress or spite, but probably both.

He spins around in place, despairingly attempting to shield his lighter hand with the other and find a point in which the wind isn't hindering him. Mumbling a "fuck" and "come on" under his breath, and finally managing to get a catch—you watch him drag on it—the most accomplished you've seen him look in a while.

Granted, you don't meet often.

This was on purpose. You don't particularly recall whose decision that was, but you recollect it wasn't solely on him. Without going into too much detail, your relationship had been contentious, and much like the smoking, the contention likely has something to do with why he is sitting on your balcony at 2:30 in the morning on a Wednesday with work in the morning. As much as it's bad for the both of you, and as much as both of you may want to quit—here he is.

Sipping your glass of wine briefly and setting it back down on the table, it catches Minho's eye, and he turns his attention back up to your face. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"Tint, yeah."

"Have you always worn that?"

"No, just trying something new."

His eyebrows shift, downturned, before turning away and looking out into the distance. This doesn't last long, however, because Minho can't let anything go that easily.

"Why?" he finally asks, his tone getting more irritable, more suspicious. Typical of being a couple of glasses in.

You know where this is going. It goes the same way every time.

"Because I wanted to, Minho," you reply, already exhausted from the conversation and that exhaustion lacing your tone. "Who cares."

"I care," he says, putting the rest of his cigarette out into an empty beer can sat between the two of you on the table. "Are you seeing someone?"

You don't want to answer the question. It's not because you are seeing someone, but because of all of the other numerous reasons that you shouldn't have to answer that question. It being none of his business—what it ultimately comes down to, though.

But you know the night is only going to get worse if you don't.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone, I'm perfectly capable of adjusting my appearance without the direction of a man."

Minho's face twists again. He doesn't like that answer, either.

Moments of silence pass between the two of you, what feels like days. Awkwardness filling the tiny balcony and you figure he's just going to leave; get on his phone and text one of numerous other women he's always been juggling at any point in time, like he always had.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go," he finally says, standing and adjusting his faux leather jacket just to step past you and into your apartment without waiting for you to lead him.

This was Lee Know. A constant reminder of why he's in your past.

Or, supposed to be.

Walking in behind him, courage finally pools in your chest in the form of irritation. He does this every time, and you keep allowing it. It's never different. He's never different.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore, Minho."

The words sort of fall out of your mouth, beginning strong but faltering in identity by the time you reach his name. Standing in the doorway of your bedroom, he turns to look back at you over his shoulder, blinking slowly, almost as if hearing the words was simply an inconvenience to him.

"And why's that, darling?"

"Don't call me that," you say, trying to stand your ground.

"Aw, but you usually like it," he coos, insulting to your ears.

It's when he turns back to walk towards you that you already know the way the night is headed, because it's almost 3am and the both of you have had a few to drink.

And the glue that held your relationship together for far longer than it ever should have always was the sex.

"It really is such a pretty color," Minho groans, fingers tangled in your hair as you pull back from his cock and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Half-lidded eyes and slightly parted mouth staring back at you with full attention, you forgot what it was like when he unabashedly took you in.

He brings his hand down, placing fingers under your chin to coax you back up to meet him face-to-face, kissing you deeply, biting at your bottom lip just on the cusp of too roughly and then erasing the sensation with a following flick of his tongue.

It was intoxicating. You could never say no to him.

Minho flips you over, back to the mattress of your bed where he had just been and trails his way down, hurriedly burying his face between your thighs, digging blunt fingers into the pliable flesh and groaning into a pussy already embarrassingly wet for him. Minho pulls his face back after a few minutes and brings a hand down, pressing two fingers into you slowly, but deeply. You try not to groan but he's watching intently and that's precisely what he's fishing for—the verbal confirmation that no matter what he does, or says, you'll always be putty in his hands.

And you give it to him, reluctantly, not that you have a choice in the matter.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, meticulously pressing fingers into you while he watches every way that your face shifts in response. "Don't ever let another man have you,"

The command is absolutely toxic, and exhilarating.

"Not while I'm having you," he quietly adds, mouthing the words into your exposed thigh, "your body is only for me."

He withdraws his fingers, making quick work of his shirt and climbs up the length of your body, kissing you hard again and trailing down the corner of your mouth to your jaw, then neck, and back up to your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

Feeling the head of his cock pressed up to your entrance, you're almost willing to tell him anything he wants to hear to get what you want, but not this.

"Minho," you whine, attempting to press yourself down the bed to reach his hips without having to relent to him.

"Say it!" he then demands, already losing his patience and letting his body weight fall to one forearm, allowing the other arm ample mobility to snake up and grasp your hair into his fist.

You wish you hated it, you wish it didn't make you so fucking hot for him.

"I'm yours."

It's a pathetic squeak with the way your head is pulled back, but it's enough for him—planting his mouth onto your exposed throat to suck at the skin as he slowly presses his length into your aching body. It's a relief, in so many ways. Minho eases off of your hair just enough to allow your head to fall so that he has easier access to your mouth again, enjoying the way you sigh into him as he fills you, a smile pulling across his face no doubt because he gets off on knowing that even if it was a request to hear such things—they certainly aren't lies.

"Good girl," he whispers, slowly pulling out before pressing back in just as languidly, "you're still on the pill?"

"Y-yes," you answer, and with urgency.

"Mmm," he groans, lowly, pulling away from your mouth again to kiss down against your jaw, "I'm going to come inside you, I'm going to put my claim on you all over again."

He never asks, another terrible thing you've come to enjoy from this man.

And Lee Minho never was a fast lover. It was all about control for him, and he knew that the best way to have control was to make you irrevocably hot for him, so he would take his time—do things to and for your body that no one else ever had, and he took joy in it—maybe for all the wrong reasons; in the moments, it didn't matter. It's what made him so difficult to deny.

Hips pressing into your own hard, at just the right pace, it was always the dirty talk that really got you there—combined with his perfect cock, sure, but his voice, his words, domineeringly sexy and a little dangerous—you wished you could go off of him.

Nails gripping harder into his shoulder, you wish that just once you could have the self control to not give him the satisfaction of your orgasm, but with the whimper slipping past your lips—the ultimate betrayal—you knew it wouldn't be this time.

"Oh?" he coos, pace picking up only the slightest bit, "you're going to come, darling?"

You choose not to answer, worrying that any attempt will result in another ping of satisfaction straight to his ego.

"You can try to hold back, might make it more fun," he whispers in response, still pulling his warm lips across the skin of your face, "and that much more enjoyable when you fail."

Minho picks up in all the ways he knows you like, fingers pulling just a bit tighter at the fist sitting to the side of your head, his other arm snaking down and around your leg, pulling it up—allowing his weight to rest on you but also his cock just that particular angle that makes you lose your mind. It makes you fucking livid, the way he knows all of the ways to unravel you—not furious enough to stop, of course. You wished you had the resolve every time.

"Fuck, I'm—" you manage to get out, and it's an angry groan of sorts—perhaps your frustration at the situation, at the man between your legs—finally getting the best of you and seeping out.

And with such a robust sexual history as the one that you and Minho possess, the act of the simultaneous orgasm wasn't a stranger to the two of you.

You feel the way the corners of his mouth curl up, teeth against your neck as he smiles at his anticipated victory, "good baby, come for me," he starts, his voice starting to falter right along with his hips, "let me come into that little pussy of mine."

Three or four more drives of his cock and you feel the muscles of your pussy clamp down around him so hard that it's almost painful. Minho always had this way of causing the most strained, violent orgasms in you. Unable to really manage words, or sounds, the most brutal orgasms always ended up being silent and Minho knew in those moments that that's when he truly had you. So predictable. You can feel him swell and pulse as he unloads inside with a desperate groan—really the only time he ever sounded pathetic was when he came—the sensuality of vulnerability quickly washed away by the afterglow of poor decisions made time and time again.

Minho leans down and kisses you on the mouth when his consciousness finally returns to him, running the hand that had been tangled into your hair along your face gently and swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

"I could do this all day," he whispers, and the words go straight to your chest. That familiar pinging of longing, of tragedy, of mourning what once was.

Minho always got like this after he came. It's why you always left shortly after.

Uhg, those feelings again.

my god this is for real probably one of the first three things i ever wrote jfdkghfgdj million years old lil ficlet. ANYWHO, for the toxic smut likers ♡

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

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luminoustarlight · 6 months

Text

love bites, love bleeds

thinking about vampire!anakin skywalker for no other reason other than it’s october. vampires are sexy. anakin is sexy. here we go. tw: blood, smutty themes, stalking just a lil bit.

for the sake of these thoughts let’s say anakin has been a vamp for at least a hundred years so he knows what works for him. he’ll do blood bags, he’ll do small animals, but nothing beats feeding from a willing human with a beating heart.

if you ask anakin, he’s not one to become attached. a little thing called immortality makes it rather inconvenient to harbor such feelings. human life is too fleeting, too temporary, too fragile for anakin to get mixed up with.

there was one woman— padmé amidala. she was a princess and future queen. her regal gracefulness swept anakin off of his feet, not long after he became a vampire. he was so young and naïve, he didn’t know any better. this beautiful woman cared for him despite his lust for blood, despite his sometimes murderous thoughts.

their relationship ended before padmé’s coronation when she told anakin she wouldn’t turn.

anakin promised himself he’d never fall in love with a human again. not when he knows how it will end every single time. however, no matter how much he suppresses it, he has the same basic desire to love and be loved.

and when anakin sees you, walking home from yoga on a warm summer morning, he goes against his better judgement and starts watching you.

you work at a boutique downtown, you don’t go out with friends very often, and you go to yoga every saturday morning. you undress in front of your window with the curtains open, a flighty thought that no one is looking in.

anakin wanted to scold you. he wanted to tell you how reckless it is to expose yourself to nosy neighbors, peeping tom’s (and a horny vampire). were you really that stupid to think nobody is looking at you through your window? or did you just not care?

anakin had an incessant desire to look after you. he leased an apartment right across from yours that just so happened to become vacant in september.

something changed that evening, though. your curtains were drawn and anakin could no longer watch you get ready for bed.

he visited you at the boutique the next day.

you held no reservations inviting him to your apartment after your shift. there was something so irresistible about him. striking blue eyes to take your breath away and a smile to make you swoon, you were already falling into his gravitational pull.

you let him have you that night. as he rocked his hips into you, he sunk his teeth into your neck. the simultaneous sting of anakin’s thick cock in your tight cunt and sharp teeth in your supple neck sent you reeling. you weren’t sure if it was the way he was hitting your cervix or the gradual loss of blood that made you lightheaded.

anakin was the one who was feeding on you but you were intoxicated. he was the one being nourished, yet you were filled with desire. you wrapped your arms around his back like a life preserver, clinging to this man— not a monster but not a human either, like he’s the only thing that matters.

“oh, you sweet girl,” anakin whispered to you, two rough pads of his fingers finding your swollen nub. your pussy felt so wonderful around him. it’s where he belonged. “you are mine now.”

you nodded and whined through a powerful orgasm, scratching your nails down the strong muscles of anakin’s back. you were claiming him as much as he was claiming you. anakin had marked you with puncture marks on both sides of your neck, he came inside of you with the intentions of breeding you if he could. your life was irrevocably changed that september night.

falling into late october, you have spent every day with anakin. your relationship has become incredibly co-dependent but anakin takes care of you more than anything. he makes sure your fridge and pantry is well stocked, he always reminds you to eat and drink water- he can’t afford to have you pass out on him. he has dinner ready for you when you come home from the boutique.

he doesn’t feed every day. he doesn’t have to. but you enjoy it. you want him to. you want to be the only one he feeds off of because he is yours and you are his. he bites. you bleed.

#anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker headcanon #vampire!au #vampire anakin skywalker #vampire!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader

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levmada · 7 months

Text

➥ pairing: transmasc!sub!Levi (on T, no surgery) x amab!dom!reader

➥ about: A new effect from his gender transition finds Levi. You both enjoy it.

➥ c/w: established relationship, snuggling and fondling, oral/face-fucking, multiple orgasms, premature orgasm..., praise, rough sex, rimming (for about a second), female and male terms for Levi's body parts used interchangeably, creampie

➥ wc: 2.5k

One of Levi’s favorite rituals of his every day is crawling into bed with you—usually, like tonight, long after night has fallen. Specifically, snuggled under covers; you're curled up and overtaking his back. He feels protected, even from his ingrained discomfort at feeling protected at all. A state of calm settles over him like a blanket still warm from the sun.

Naturally, he doesn’t always sleep and never perfectly, but from where he's standing, this ritual is more great and makes him more lucky than he ever could've dreamed.

He’s getting that sense that he won’t sleep for a while, nothing new, although his closed eyes are aching. You extinguished the lantern not long ago, but your breaths are soft and slow at his shoulder.

But something is making him pout, discomforted and a bit bewildered. Of course his lower half is aching and warm at the most inconvenient time—after you fucked not hours earlier—but it feels… bigger, and more concentrated.

Experimentally he presses his naked thighs together and instantly grits his teeth to swallow a sigh. Heat in his lower half blazes brightly to life. Immediately he can't resist squeezing again.

Ah, he mouths. Frustration wells up inside him. Suddenly he’s all too aware of your breathing fanning the nape of his neck.

He says your name in warning. “Stop pretending to be asleep.”

"Hm." You huff a quiet chuckle to yourself. Inwardly he rolls his eyes, pouting more.

“What’s wrong, Lee?”

He traps his tongue between his teeth as his clit does something odd. It gives a strong throb that he can feel. He inhales rather sharply, and experimentally grinds his thighs together. Heat, stronger this time, pools below his navel and culminates in a hot but dull ache.

But that's really not all that surprising. But this—sense of it is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

Your warm palm slides down his navel after he neglected to reply, down to his hip where your thumb draws lines up and down the V of his waist. “Hm?”

“I… Stop jumping to conclusions. I’m not just horny.”

"Oh... I so sincerely apologize."

Your warm breath fans his neck as your lips close in, kissing firm and open-mouthed.

"Ngh..."

He brings one arm across to his chest as much as he’s comfortable and squeezes for a dull sense of friction. No more than that. But he's surprised at himself for needing it in the first place.

Using his free hand, he links his fingers with yours and sighs tightly as he rubs his thighs together, between which aches an unfamiliar firmness. It's all slick now. You squeeze his hand.

As his pussy flutters around nothing, he mouths another curse.

The words get lodged in his throat. If he says too much, maybe it'll turn out to be nothing.

So it's better this way. He shifts his legs enough for your joined hands to comfortably nestle between, where the heat is distinctive and the skin of his very inner thighs are silky soft. Slick cum coats them; of course his lips are soaked. Just experimentally rubbing his cunt sounds sloppy and wet. Your breathing stammers as he grimaces, embarrassed.

With his free hand, and eyes tightly shut, he pins his lips apart and presses on your palm. A sharp whine sneaks up on him and escapes unbidden. His clit is definitely bigger—not worryingly so… Maybe if he was born the unluckiest male, it would pass for his cock. It’s soggy and somewhat erect, poking out from between his soft lips. The pressure makes him tense and squirm his hips lightly forward, moaning softly.

“You’re hard?” you ask, as if he’s just placed in your hands a delightful gift.

He tucks his chin against his chest, lips lightly pursed. “Am I?”

A trace of your smile kisses the base of his tense jaw. “Your cock is hard. Were you just rubbing your thighs together, and it happened that easily?”

“Ah…” He grinds into your palm, rejuvenated by a hit of confidence. “Yeah. And I was thinking about earlier.”

“That’s a bit broad.”

“Tch… I missed… having your cock stuffing me...”

He’s breathing heavier now, savoring that slow build of desire as you grow to do the same, as your cock hardens at his backside. He arches his back and you moan, grinding, sinfully, between his firm asscheeks.

You whisper in his ear, “But can’t I suck your cock first?”

“Hm…" He smirks. "I would’ve sat on your face if you hadn’t volunteered. But you’ll have to work for it. It’s fucking late and you had me busy earlier.”

“Uh-huh. That was definitely all me.”

“We'll run out of night if you start repeating yourself.”

“Hm,” you scoff, lips and teeth closing harshly on his tender throat.

His eyes almost roll back as you fucking bite him, but just as quickly as you did it you pull away, and wrap your arm around his torso. In just one smooth motion, you roll him onto his belly. Hands pressing squarely on his back tell him to keep still.

Just the suggestion of friction pressing against his clit has him grinding against the bedspread. He squirms with his hips, moaning just loud enough to be heard through the pillow under his face.

The covers remain resting over his lower back while you duck underneath and push his naked thighs further apart. His breath catches his anticipation.

"Raise your pretty ass, Lee."

He gets his knees folded under his legs, doing as you ask. He's left with his heart pounding and the excruciating sense of being exposed. And that's before you spread his wet lips and your breath passes over his hole.

"Fuck," he half-grunts, half whines, like a cat in heat. It flutters rapidly around nothing.

He opens his legs as far as they’ll go and lifts his hips higher. A hum, an approving one, licks past his rim.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, gripping the sheets by his head and resisting the urge to grab the back of your head and shove your mouth in his cunt; you've barely started. You flick your tongue, tracing his trembling rim with it.

A visible bead of sweat breaks out on his forehead while you lick him like candy. You breathe in deeply. Fuck fuck fuck.

A little more slick oozes from his pussy and onto your tongue. Moaning, long low and hungry, you grind the flat of your tongue through his pussy, spreading it around.

The pillow grows humid with his panting moans. You’re acting like you’re starving.

But there’s one problem with this, and it’s that his dick isn’t in your mouth.

He groans your name. “Hurry the fuck up… You have to—hah—hurry.”

Your heavy tongue pushes inside his cunt as if it were your cock, and swirls around the tender muscles tight circles.

“Fuck fuck fuck—!”

He backs his ass up and grips your hair like a vice, but you go even deeper if anything and at that point it’s too late anyway—his cunt clenches tight around your tongue. It snuck up on him completely. Your palm falls on his cock and rubs feverishly. With a piercing whine, and you moaning deep in his cunt, he rides your tongue for all its worth as his wet pussy pulses rhythmically. His whole body shakes as he comes on the heat of your tongue.

When he’s finished, dazed in a warm fog, his breath heaves. The supple muscles soften and relax around your tongue.

He turns his head towards the cool air with his expression contorted by embarrassment. “Sorry, I couldn’t…”

You pull out; your hands slide up from his thighs again and play with his ass, squeezing and prying him open until his thighs tremble before letting it jiggle back into place. Your lips press gently to the seats of both his thighs.

You spread him then, and close your lips directly on his tight asshole. He shudders and gapes into the pillow, keening from somewhere high in his throat. His voice cracks.

“You have a weird fucking way of making me feel better…” he grumbles, but his retort has no weight. It’s probably pointless to talk with your mouth busy in his cunt anyway.

You shift around, the bed whining.

You’ve rolled onto your back, arms wrapped around his thick thighs to force them spread open, creating a snug piece of space for your head to fit. Your mouth hovers right over his dick.

The heat of your heavy breaths make it twitch and strain between his spread lips. He pins his lower lip between his teeth and struggles to control his voice. His knuckles ache where he grips the sheets.

And he knew it was coming, from a mile away, yet his hips still snap down as the warmth from your soft lips press to his cock, kissing as you would kiss him to ease him awake in the morning. All he can do is gape soundlessly.

Gradually, you explore it with your lips as his hips tremble and his legs shake outside your head. His body has never been so sensitive in his fucking life, which is saying something. The intensity of it all is devastating—newly condensed entirely in his dick and groin.

The pillow grows humid where his mouth is buried, making him whimper pitifully to realize he’s drooling. He pushes his forehead into it, his panting obnoxious.

“I can’t, I can’t…”

He's so fucking horny. That's probably why you waited.

Your tender lips close on his cock, sucking it into your hot and welcoming mouth. As your tongue flicks his tip, and licks his shaft in firm sweeping motions, his chest wracks with dry sobs. Each revolution, he lets out a mumbled cry. Like you’re savoring your favorite meal after starving all day. Someone is mumbling—he realizes himself.

“Please, please, fucking… please. Suck it or I won’t fucking last…”

You pin in place his wiggly hips, and moan as you eagerly obey. You suck gently, offering the flat of your tongue for him to grind onto.

He humps with abandon. He’s dazed, forgotten that he’s drooling from his open mouth, with his voice clinging to time passing, and his cunt dripping on your chest. All he can grasp is the incredible climax gradually rising within his tightening body and racing pulse.

Two fingers appear, which you swirl around his dripping hole. Effortlessly, they slide in.

He coughs out some slutty cross between a moan and a cry as his pussy clamps uncontrollably around them with a grip that’s reluctant to let go. He rambles your name mingled with, more, more, more…

You moan. His cunt sucks in a third within moments, down to the knuckle. Quickly you pump, and deep inside him, curl them tightly.

“Fuck!—Wait, I’m—fuck!”

He shouts when his second climax washes over him. It’s much stronger than the last—his strength soon overpowers yours, and he fucks your tongue, grips your wrist and practically convulses while rutting on your fingers. You moan as he quakes through it.

As the aftershocks start to make him twitch away, he collapses, hearing himself whimper from far, far away as you clean up his messy cunt with long, thirsty licks.

You back away and rise up, letting him melt onto the bed. A sea of harsh heat escapes with the loss of the covers.

He turns his head just in time for you to drape your heavy body over his back—completely covering his own—and for your lips to crash against his, pulling a moan from you both. The entire lower half of your face, especially around your lips are slathered in his cum. The peaky taste is sweet and clean, and he groans to taste it as your tongue drags against his.

He arches his back and closes his hand around the rear of your thigh, using—damn near almost—his full strength to try and get your dick in him. You breathe a sweet moan down his throat.

You take hold of his hip and slide your shaft through his wet cunt, between his soft lips, and abruptly, your hips snap forward and bump his softened dick. A whiny cry he didn't even know his voice was capable of dizzies him.

"Mm... Mm..."

Your sweat and hot, heavy breaths bleed together. Neither can focus to kiss any longer, not as you fumble to guide yourself, he spreads his pussy.

The instant your cock pushes past his rim, thick and inviting, he moans. His cunt is so wet and relaxed that it eases the way for your cock easily, and you fill him up perfect. Every light pulse and throb is felt with amazing clarity.

You bury praise in his neck. "God—baby, you're so tight... Y'feel so fucking good."

He arches his back, panting into his arm. "Then fuck me, just fuck me..."

You groan, bordering on a growl. Your hips heave, and as they first clap against his ass, stuffing him full of your cock, his eyes just about roll into the back of his head.

"Yeah, fuck...!"

Fuck, he’s so full.

You groan, long and low into the dip where his neck connects to his shoulder as you draw your hips back. His cunt is pliant and soft after his orgasms, but the heat of his body ripples, throbs, squeezes so tightly now that he’s properly being fed your cock.

The drag and pull as his sopping cunt opens up for it leaves him whining endlessly. Louder as you pick up speed and put force behind your deep thrusts. Sloppy squelches mark each revolution of your hips.

His back arches under you, leaving a slight strip of space the only place over his back where you’re not pressing him into the bed. The shift pushes your cock even deeper.

"Fuck," you curse, your voice pitching towards a whine; your breaths loud and ragged in his ear. You rut desperately, making him tremble in anticipation. He’s going to come too fast. He keeps…

The muscles down your abdomen twitch and tense as you get a hand underneath him, and tug gently on his fat clit.

“Hng—! Fuck!” he cries out. “Yeah, fuck me!”

He arches his hips to meet every one of your thrusts, but eventually, with your entire weight looming over his back, and your rapid, brutally shallow thrusts, he’s pinned in place by you, at your mercy.

"Gonna come..."

This is his favorite part—the last shreds of your control and rhythm failing into delirious humping and half-thrusts.

"Levi!"

Your hips smack his ass with full strength one last time. Your cock throbs heavily inside him, straining tightly, then you stutter to a halt. You bury a groan in his neck as your cum floods into his cunt, a distinctive heat and satisfying sense of being filled.

Your cock must be overstimulated, but you pick up speed anyway, fucking your climax deep inside him and crossing a small distance left to meet his peak. He cries out when he tips over the edge, it burns straight through his blood and buzzing mind. With each thick spurt of your cum filling him, and drag up and down his dick, he quakes, giving the illusion of laying still.

Until he collapses, and you sink down on top of him, with his muscles inside softening and going all pliant. Hot cum begins to trickle out between your cock where you're still connected.

You both relax to the bed, heaving breaths, satisfied.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi x male reader #aot smut #snk smut

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lostelfwriting · 2 months

Text

Bury Me with a Rose, We Both Have Thorns (Prologue)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Death & Dream, Dream & Hob, Dream/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Death of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Jessamy, Matthew, Corinthian, Lucienne

Additional Tags: NO Major Character Death, Hanahaki Disease, Terminal Illnesses, Thoughts about death and dying, Decaying Health, Refusing Treatment, Strong Language, Unrequited Love, Enemies to ?, Past Minor Characters Death(s), Protective Death of the Endless, Doctor Human!Death of the Endless, Alternate Universe - Human, Tattoo Artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Flower Shop Owner Hob Gadling, Blood, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word count: 32k

I'm posting the whole work here on the 1st of March, but I strongly reccommend you read it on AO3, where I will be posting one chapter per day. Either way, click Read More or go to AO3 to read the Prologue!

Written for the event @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang. With beautiful art by @five-and-dimes!

It is a slow day at the studio, so while he is waiting for his next appointment, Dream is – like he does almost all of his free time – sketching new tattoo designs to add to his portfolio and listening to music loud enough to completely shut out his own thoughts. He is sketching a snake, having no doubt that it will catch someone’s eye. There is always someone who wants a tattoo of a snake. He pauses to look at his progress and ends up snorting in disbelief.

The drawing is truly a snake, but the reptile is weaving among the stems of flowers instead of a dead branch like Dream had intended. And they are ugly flowers at that. He is pretty sure that he gave a pot of those flowers to his secondary school teacher, who always called him Murphy, even though he hated that nickname. He can’t resist snapping a picture of the flowers with his phone and trying to look up what they are, but once he finds the name – cyclamen – he refuses to look up their meaning. It would surely be something stupid, like forbidden love, or maybe hopelessness.

Even the snake’s scales seem to actually be made of flower petals, and Dream rolls his eyes as he flips the page of his sketchbook. The downside to trying to tune his mind out is that he doesn’t notice when his subconsciousness begins to interfere with his process, and it has led to many flowery paintings in the past months. With a sigh, he starts copying the usable parts of the design onto another page until an insistent thought makes him pause mid-movement.

Just a few weeks ago, he would have been furious if this had happened. He used to tear those ruined sketches to pieces and then go outside into the late winter chill and glare at every passing person who dared to look his way. He wished they all felt as bad as he did, and most of all, his neighbour with his shop opposite Dream’s studio, with its bright, flowery logo.

Today’s drawing incident feels like just a small inconvenience. He feels zero anger, though he might still opt to destroy the sketch later, just for the miniscule satisfaction that the action will bring him. Or maybe he will keep it. Pin it to the wall next to his bed and look at it every night. He will look at the ugly flowers and realise with wry amusement and aching hollowness that he has finally accepted his fate.

He, Morpheus Endeles, is going to die.

He thinks about it and waits for anger or grief to appear, but they don’t. Good. He was getting sick of the self-pity. It has been months since he noticed the first symptom – the occasional cough – as something seemed to tickle his throat, easily blamed on a bit of dust. And then, a bit later, when he lay awake late at night and everything around him was quiet, he heard the soft rustle of leaves as he breathed. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that he had the Hanahaki Disease. He tears the ruined sketch out and shreds it into tiny pieces, enjoying the bit of satisfaction that it brings him. Maybe he is still harbouring some badly suppressed anger. He doesn’t need a fortune teller to tell him that he has no chance of getting affection from the person he hopelessly loves. Because it is his neighbour, the owner of The White Rose, Robert Gadling, a straight man who rightfully dislikes Dream.

+*+*+*+*+

Cyclamen: resignation and good-bye

#my writing #bury me with a rose #centennial husbands big bang #dreamling #hanahaki disease #angst #happy ending

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anystalker707 · 1 year

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Admiral, my Admiral

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind

MASTERLIST

• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division

• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?

• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well

• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone

• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates

• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin

• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell

• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them

• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head

• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world

• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow

• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there

• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.

• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”

• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you

• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy

• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...

• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him

• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care

• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest

• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though

“(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.

“Ace—”

“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”

You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.

“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”

“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”

Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”

“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”

“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”

Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.

None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.

Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.

• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips

• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”

• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”

• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep

• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep

• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it

• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side

• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat

• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed

• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t

• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now

• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one

• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face

• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already

• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all

• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger

• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat

• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before

• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it

• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

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faytelumos · 4 months

Text

I'm trying to write a thing (probably only in my head, let's be realistic) and so I have some thoughts?

Sunshine x Grumpy prompts

(specifically a dommy Sunshine and a subby Grumpy, but read/swap these as you will)

Meetings

- They physically bump into each other in the street. Sunshine is trying to gather up Grumpy's stuff and straighten them out, but Grumpy is just trying to get away from Sunshine's overpowering energy.

-> Then afterwards, Grumpy is the one who keeps thinking about the encounter.

- There are no rooms left in the hotel/inn. Sunshine overhears Grumpy all but begging for any kind of room at all, and offers to share theirs.

- Every day, Grumpy walks past Sunshine dancing in a slightly inconvenient place (like a sidewalk or in front of a coffee shop). Eventually, they start watching Sunshine briefly when they come across them. Then, Sunshine makes direct eye contact and motions for them to dance, too.

-> Grumpy may not dance with them, but maybe Sunshine decides to make it their life's mission to tease out the dance moves in Grumpy's heart.

- Grumpy notices Sunshine gently handling a disliked/misunderstood animal. They instantly wonder if Sunshine would be willing to handle them (disliked and misunderstood as they are) so gently.

- People generally assume Grumpy is cruel/brutish in a fight. But when Sunshine sees them being merciful and diplomatic in the face of conflict, their heart goes all aflutter. They must not let this wonderful person slip through their fingers.

Acquaintances to Friends/Lovers

- They know each other only in passing, and Grumpy assumes Sunshine to be a total ditz. But when a fight between strangers breaks out in a tight space, Sunshine rushes into the fray to break it up. (Maybe the sight of Sunshine being strong and capable does something to Grumpy.)

-> Alternatively, it could be an emergency/crisis that Grumpy or another stranger are having (such as choking on something, a severe allergic reaction, or an illness or injury taking a sudden turn for the worse).

- They work together, and Sunshine has been making their way around the workplace day by day, doing something happy and cheerful and everything for each person. Grumpy is dreading the day it's their turn.

*Relationship Intensifies*

- Sunshine is a terrible cook. Grumpy pulls out the apron and shows them a thing or two.

- Sunshine opens up about their dark past during a quiet moment. It is remarkably (even freakishly) similar to what Grumpy went through.

- Sunshine notices that while Grumpy's actions say, "Do not perceive me," their body language screams, "I need you specifically to hold me."

- Over the past few weeks/months, Sunshine and Grumpy have been spending more and more time together. Right as Grumpy starts to feel comfortable opening up, they realize… Sunshine actually doesn't talk about themself. Practically at all.

After Dark

- Grumpy is too nervous/self-conscious to initiate, even though being with Sunshine is all they've been thinking about for the past ten minutes.

-> Sunshine miraculously notices and treats Grumpy so sweetly that Grumpy almost breaks.

->-> Or they do break, and Sunshine's happy to pick up the pieces afterwards.

- Sunshine's "I'll get a smile out of you yet!" attitude shifting into "You're mine and no one will ever hurt you" when things get hot.

- Grumpy's "I refuse to burden people with my presence" attitude becoming "Please, I need every last piece of you" when things get going.

- Grumpy and Sunshine have to switch roles a little when Sunshine drops after they're together.

#sunshine x grumpy #grumpy x sunshine #prompts #romance prompts #writeblr #sunshine x grumpy prompts #grumpy x sunshine prompts #meet cute #relationship prompts #steamy prompts #spicy prompts #🕸️#this is all I've got for now #I might just edit this and add a couple or reblog with more later #depends on how many more I have probably #I have no content for these two; only vibes #you know how it is

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batneko · 1 year

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Got a Spicy One for ya today lads. How about some sex pollen bowuigi?

(not explicit but I'm still putting it under a cut so nobody has to see it if they don't want)

It's one of the gang's occasional reluctant team-ups, and Bowser and Luigi are split off the rest of the group and have to fight a big flower monster neither of them has heard of before. Afterward they both suddenly find themselves really hot and bothered, and since there's nothing else that would have gotten them going they both assume they're attracted to each other. Having sex in a floral glade just seems like a really good idea at the moment!

Afterward, when they go to find somewhere to wash up, Bowser notices how absolutely covered in pollen they are, and Luigi trips over a broken signpost. He finds the sign covered in leaves a little way away, and it warns travelers to stay away from the flower glade and avoid other people if you've been exposed. Uh-oh.

They both agree it was just a horrible accident and they should never speak of it again. No hard feelings, but also, take this to your grave.

Time passes.

Neither of them can stop thinking about it. Despite the awkwardness of doing it in a forest, the sex was really really good, and Luigi can't stop wondering if it was the pollen making it more intense? Or if he's more kinky than he thought? Or if Bowser's actually a good lover? The only way to find out would be to try it again, and Bowser would never go for that... right?

Meanwhile Bowser hasn't gotten laid in so long that it's gone from dry spell to drought to climate crisis, and he can't stop thinking about it because oh god he'd almost forgotten how it felt to hold somebody like that. To have somebody look at you like they WANT you. He feels like he's losing his mind but he almost (almost) doesn't care about how pathetic he'd look if he can just have that again.

The next time they run into each other one of them (I can't decide which. Maybe both?) brings up the idea of... maybe... in a casual way... sort of... doing that again? Onlyifyoureintoitofcourse.

And of course the other one IS, so they slip off to find somewhere to give it a go. Turns out the answer to Luigi's question was D. All Of The Above, but even without the pollen intensifying things it's still pretty dang good. He doesn't have to be convinced too hard when Bowser suggests Luigi could come over whenever he's in the mood. Purely as a casual thing. Obviously neither of them wants a relationship.

It goes on like that for a little while, although pretty soon Bowser starts making more accommodations for Luigi. It's an inconvenient trip, so he arranges for one of those painting portals. And if Luigi can come over whenever he wants, it just makes sense for him to have his own room in the castle. And since now it's a breeze to go back and forth, Luigi doesn't worry too much about getting home and just hangs around more often.

They get used to each other's company in more than just sexual situations. They start to actually like each other.

Though they both want to keep it a secret (Bowser doesn't want Peach to think he's been "unfaithful," and Luigi doesn't want his brother and friends to think he's a traitor) it's not like Luigi can just hide in his room all the time. Eventually it's kind of unspoken knowledge that Luigi is Bowser's Official Mistress. Not a consort or a concubine because that would be too official. Just the person that everyone knows he's sleeping with and should be treated relatively politely because of it.

And that's all I've got. Two idiots who apparently haven't seen enough movies to realize somebody always catches feelings, and a whole castle full of loose lipped time bombs who are bound to let something slip eventually. Which will go off first!?

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #luwser #bowigi #bowser #luigi #super mario bros

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helloescapist · 4 months

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The Hashiras During the Holidays

Word Count: 7191

Setting: [insert]hashiras x gn!reader, established relationships

Content Warning(s): slightly suggestive, mentions of Christmas

Summary: just Christmas/holiday headcanons with the Hashiras.

The Water Hashira

One would assume that Giyuu would grapple with Christmas, and to an extent, you would be right. For the most part, Giyuu will approach the holiday with extreme trepidation.

Every holiday invitation will have him stagnant, struggling with the internal screaming as he confronts invitation after invitation. A business Christmas party amongst the Hashiras? Shinobu’s verbal jabs have left the searing mark, and despite how desperately you have tried to invite him, he has neither confirmed whether he will or will not attend. It would be rude to outright reject the invitation, but what if it was required—a social implication, and really… no one wants him to attend? Surely not.

But he’s passed the appropriate deadline to refuse.

Actually, it’s fairly easy to rope the Water Hashira into a number of activities. His inability to function or perform the mental acrobats to comprehend that he has been committed to a function before it is too late, and he has no choice but to accept.

The list of tasks he has completed for others is endless.

Dangled from a ladder to hang lights for Mitsuri, served soup at a local shelter, got bit in the bottom trying to walk a stray dog for Rengoku, manipulated into picking up last minute gifts for Kocho. Endless.

No, wait, he’s well passed the socially accepted time frame to accept. His attendance at this point would be a huge inconvenience to the host, and extremely rude.

Giyuu will engage in a number of internal grapples with his inner dialogue from workplace parties to family parties—if you suggested he joins your family for the holiday, I promise you he froze. Died inside. Screaming, internally rocking back and forth. As Sanemi has expressed time, and time again… there is something just so… punchable about his face. What if they hate him?

Cue the spiral of self-deprivation.

Ironically, it’s due to the numerous panic attacks that he has endured, the Water Hashira will be quick to finish his holiday shopping fairly early. Which may be part of the reason sudden invites horrify him and knock him off balance.

Juggling the demanding schedules of the holidays is surprisingly a strong suit of his. Perhaps because he has always been overconsiderate of those around him.

There is a certain air of nostalgia that the holiday season brings that warms Tomioka’s spirits—more so than you may expect. Though you wouldn’t know looking at him, he has a genuine air of disposition. So much so that you may have the impression that Giyuu may not even be aware that the holiday is upon you.

But it hasn’t escaped his sights.

Giyuu delights in the small moments, the little things that offer him ambience. Little snippets of his childhood. The fresh fall snow, and how delighted he was as a child to greet the snowflakes, a faded memory brought only to life at your outstretched hands. The delighted giggle as your fingers catch individual snowflake.

Rolling snowballs into your hands, targeting him. The shock of chill impacted upon his porcelain frame. The wide of his eyes, trembled by the cold, the ends of snow that clings to his raven hair as the waves crash down upon him. Your laughter, ringing in his ears. Faded memories that bear weight and significance before you know it, he has formed a near perfect sphere returned in friendly fire, a small smile that pulls upon the corner of his lips.

Smell and delicate as the snow between your fingers.

Easily melted should you draw attention to it.

No, it’s likely that you will not notice how naturally he gravitates to the holiday sway. The spirit tucked behind his indifferent façade, brought to light only by aspects of the season that often go unnoticed.

The bulk of your gifts already wrapped, meticulously folded corners, and adorned in dressing of bows and tinsel. The accumulation of the holiday decorations pulled from storage, ready for attention should you be the sort to adore decorating, ready by the first of December, or sooner if you have begun to drop hints. If you are the type to despise the bulls and trimming of the trees, then rest assured, by the time you return from work, he will have all of the decorations hung with care.

He’s tuned to your traditions, having retained information throughout your time together to remember the little things you delighted in in your own youth, such as the addition of cinnamon to your hot chocolate, an ingredient you will find sprinkled in your mug.

As a partner, Tomioka places a high importance on stability and practicality, so you can expect the mass majority of his gifts to be fairly mundane, but well thought out. Small things like mittens if you are prone to cold fingers, a new rice cooker if your has recently broken. Your favorite chocolates, or small nostalgic delights that will warm your heart. For the most part, they’ll be fairly… reliable gifts, and to some extent may leave you feeling a little underwhelmed. However, all of his gifts are selected with extreme care, and consideration. Placing your year round needs as well as desires into selecting the present—no, a rice cooker is not sexy, but he knows that you enjoy rice with every meal. How could he let you go without? It’s true, these mittens are not the cutest ones they had in stock, but this pair allows you to scroll through the social media masses tumblr while remaining cozy.

Is absolutely the type to indulge in cozy, thick blankets.

Shyly bought a couples mug set to share together the morning of, but chickened out of using them, only discovered in the cabinet upon your digging through the mugs. The small squeal you realized, and the embarrassment that meets his cheeks as you excitedly pour cocoa into them, gushing about their adorableness.

Truthfully, all Giyuu wants for the holiday is to bask in your company if you’re okay with it. For him, to be curled up into your warmth is more than enough for him to enjoy the holidays. Tomioka does not desire, nor request more from you. Jut to enjoy the small quiet of the morning before the holiday madness begins, to fill your hair between his fingers, and witness the small dips of your breath as you slumber.

This is actually his favorite time of year.

The Insect Hashira

Full disclosure, it’s ridiculous.

Kocho has never truly grasped the concept of the holiday season, or the depths in which some people captivate it with such care. Not in the sense that she does not grasp the spiritual significance to observers, but more that, such depths should not be limited to a singular season. Rather, she views any believers as lacking in their own faiths—the joy and giving nature of the season should exist outside of December.

So, for the most part, Shinobu tends to view the entirety of the season with delicate hypocrisy. Expects that Ebenezer Scrooge’s generosity will run out by December 31st, the film will have lifted from his eyes, and he will once again line his pockets with the coin of the less fortunate. The temporary display merely cheapens the sentiment.

Though for the few who endorse kindness throughout the year, such as Kanroji and Rengoku, she is content to humor their Christmas spirit. She will endure their off key caroling and send their blighted singing to Tomioka’s door. Shinobu will jostle with the best of them, sample the various peculiar holiday dishes.

The Insect Pillar is adventurous enough to taste test foreign seasonal delicacies such as snails and julbord, but be warned her consideration is limited to this year. If she in fact found the dishes unappetizing, she will dodge you with the swiftest rejection adorned with a smile. Never again.

For her partner, she is more than willing to endure traditions with a pressed smile. Shinobu is not know for being, well, peopley, but for you, she will undergo whatever festivities your family has to throw at her with as much social skills as she can muster. Biting back all comments on commercialization.

She’ll swallow all internal commentary on gift. But really why has she found Mitsuri mid emotional break down over the perfect present when GIFT CARDS are an option? Yet, for all of her comprehension, there is one thing she understands more than anything. You want a heartfelt gift.

And so here she is, suffering through the corporate retail beast.

To get you the gift of your dreams.

If this old lady elbows her one more time.

It’s not all swallowing internal monologue for Shinobu. There is something magical about the season regardless of the price tags attached. The frost that lines the windows as the day slips away. The puff of warm breath against the glass, the tip of her finger dipped and drawn out adorable little bunnies and tipped in delight. The small giggle, knowing that as the weather hits its peak once again, you will be greeted by her silly doodles.

Small moments to soak in the season, the soft atmosphere to enjoy the still of the early night’s greeting. Soak in the painting of the night, dipped in violets and shy blues before the luminesces glow of the stars above rise to the hour.

Still.

Calm.

Shinobu’s holiday spirit is dependent on those around her, and when given her room to breath in the cinnamon, the distant glow of decorations, and you snuggled beneath her chin as her eyes flitter to the window, you’ll find that she has more holiday joy than you may expect.

The Flame Hashira

In over his head.

I mean. He has over committed himself.

Rengoku’s to-do list began back November 1st, literally the minute Halloween was over despite Shinazugawa’s raging that he is skipping over Thanksgiving. The reality is that there is just so, so much for him to complete by the holiday season, that he has to get an early jump.

His commitments area mile long, and easily prone to overwhelming him. Not that he will ever admit it. Rather, the Flame Pillar will sooner subject himself to burning the candle at both ends to accomplish everything on his to do list. From his usual community service to additional holiday demands such as filtering through the toy section for donation ideas, to writing his own list and checking it twice.

Naughty, or nice, gift giving is in Kyojuro’s nature, and he is eager to ensure that everyone, no literally everyone in his life has the. Perfect. Present. From him. Shinobu’s mentioning gift vouchers was confusing for him. No, no.

Rengoku is a traditional shopper. Dedicated hours hoping from store to store, searching for the perfect gift from family members like his father, Senjuro, his twice removed distant cousin, the Butterfly Estate trio, the other Pillars, Kamado siblings, neighbors, the mailman, the old lady who he helped cross the street last week. Absolutely everyone he comes into contact with has made it on his list.

No social masses, natural disaster, or impending storms will ever prevent him from traveling to the ends of the earth to find each person the perfect gift.

Are you really surprised he will not settle until he has found IT.

The holiday is practically buzzing with Kyojuro’s love and adoration, but to be fair, it’s not the profit of boxes and boxes, bows and trimmings, nor is it the delectable dinner to come, it’s not the lights, or the decorations, the twinkling of stars. For the Flame Hashira, it’s the company that greets him at the door.

He has always been a family oriented individual and jumps at any opportunity to bring forth his loved ones together. Even the Scrooges of the world. His heart is ablaze with the thought of everyone he loves gathered in one place, sharing cookies and cheer.

The swordsman is willing to endure any potential burnout, suffer through all stress and burdens of the holiday to ensure that it is the perfect holiday for those around him. Store bought cookies will not cut it, he will dedicate himself to a recipe, accept all flunked attempts with grace to just have one absolutely perfect dozen cookies to serve.

He will do his best not to allow you to see him crack, and will assure you that everything is fine. It’s not, he burned the roast, the decorations are taped to the walls, he is pretty sure that the pig he found for Inosuke has helped himself to the garden. Help help help. It’s fine. Really.

The small press of your hand on his shoulder, met with the warmth of his smile, gently applying pressure in a way that reassures him of your presence, but that you will not leave him to these tasks alone is more than enough of a gift for him.

You will find that the one annoying thing about Rengoku during the holidays, is that no matter how you may approach the season. Whether with trepidation, or down right hatred, you will find the spirit of the season seeping into your pores. Spreading to your heart. Warmed to your cheeks, and averted your eyes. Struggling to maintain any disposition you have reserved, knowing all too well, this bastard is infectious.

He just loves this time of year.

But more than anything, he loves the sireneity. The sound of carols, of laughter told over stores amongst the Hashiras. Spread sentiments over the Kamado siblings, Zenitus’s screaming, the shy way his little brother dodges eye contact with the young girls of the Butterfly Estate. Basking in the glow of the fire, the warmth of his family and friends, loved ones all gathered under one roof. Tucked against the door frame, observing the joy with a small smile. Satisfied, and grateful to be alive, highlighted only at the way you snuggle into him. A coy grin of your own, cheeky and pressed into him. Daring advances, and the playful way your finger guides his eyes to the mistletoe above.

The Sound Hashira

Tradition has no place here.

You can leave all expectations at the door, and know that while he may be willing to entertain the idea for a moment, it will be over in the blink of the eye. Tengen is not lean upon family traditions—to be fair, he likely has no such memories to dredge up. The distinct onslaught of oppressive air that threatens to smother him at the mere mention of conventional sentiments—no, he would much rather spend his holiday in new, exciting ways with his wives and you.

It’s not that he does not observe the holiday itself. He is no stranger to the mundane Christmas parties that Rengoku throw; the former shinobi has enjoyed a number of Mitsuri’s cookies although may have misunderstood the initial offer.

The Sound Pillar has been known to frequent shops himself. However, unlike Rengoku, he does not need to stray from window to window like a small child. Rather, he is dutiful to his mission. He knows exactly what it is he wishes to purchase for the four of you. Each gift unique, and individual as the one to receive it. Intentional and purposeful, gift giving has always come naturally to him.

His natural ability to pick up on the underlining desires of those around him has always served him well in selecting the perfect present. As such, he has never been one to worry over whether or not you will like the gift he has picked. Of course you will, it’s from the Sound God himself.

Truthfully, you may find yourself knocked off center by his gift. While yes, it will be exactly what you’ve desired whether a bougie perfume, name brand clothing, a limited edition cookware, whatever it may be, you can expect that the price tag is far more than your $30 limit. He’s not sorry. That you’re likely to free fall into a panic over finances, ponder if what you brought him in return will… well, be enough to satisfy his extravagant tastes. Rest assured, any gift from you is flashy!

No, he’s well acquainted as anyone else with the more, expected traditions of the season. It’s that his approach is a tad unconventional. Uzui is not one to shy away from a bill, and his holidays are bound to be dripping in extravagance. He likes for things to be fun, and enjoyable. Life should be so, one never knows when they will die in his line of work, and because of this, he does not waste time considering how he should spend his time.

He knows how he will spend his holiday.

In the flashiest of ways.

Bar crawls, an onslaught of holidays parties across the winter spectrum. Participate in parades, jive in dances, tinsel with the best of them before spiriting away his family off to a ski resort. The opportunity to shred on slopes with Makio. The added strive of competition a light in their relationship. Sparked amongst playful. Delighted in the way Suma struggles to keep up, the way Hinatsuru’s eyes follow his silhouette. The warm cup of cocoa you have waiting for him at the end of the course.

The Sound Pillar will delight in warming his body in the hot springs, shameless in the way he drags you along. Warms your back, scrubbed and savoring the fill of your skin beneath his fingers.

No, unlike a majority of us that will prioritize the other people in our lives during the holidays, even at the risk of our own mental health, Uzui is not among us. Rather, he has no qualms of wishing them well, and placing your needs, and those of his wives first and foremost. He is not spending his holiday listening to aunties bitch that he has too many wives.

For all the adventures that you will likely face each holiday, you will find that it is the end of the day that Tengen lives for, and one that Hinatsuru ensures will always happen. A traditional moment, one curled up against a fire. The flicker in the depth of the night. Makio and Suma delighted in small bicker, back and forth, playful in nature as they roll across your knees. Scooped up in a blanket at Uzui’s side, Hinatsuru’s smile pressed to the corner of her lips. Content, and grateful.

To be alive.

To know this warmth, and this richness.

The Love Hashira

Is down the tinsel rabbit hole.

Was Rengoku’s tsugoko for a reason. She has an ample surplus of holiday spirit to last her for the year to come. She’s practically drowning in it. As all the idealistic nature of the season takes over her thoughts and spirits.

As soon as the first leaf hit the ground, she has begun to hum the holiday tunes beneath her breath. To everyone’s dismay. The Love Hashira did her best, she really did to deny her natural instinct. She understands that a majority of people are not.. exactly thrilled to see Christmas decorations in September, and she tried, she really did. But before she knows what has happened, the inflatables are up, the lights are twinkling, and the garland has been hung with care and adoration.

This time of year is easily amongst her favorite time of the year, and she is determined to share her love from corner to corner. Does not hesitate to greet those she knows, and strangers on the street. Uttering happy holidays to anyone who will listen. Cheerfully pulling a holiday goodie, or a candy cane from her pocket.

Giggling, and engaging little ones in discussion of what is to come.

Her eyes sparkle at the window displays, delighted by the arrange of lights, and the decorations.

Oh the decorations.

Do your best to have the utmost patience with your lover, because she will, I mean she WILL try every holiday DIY that crosses her Pinterest board. Some will end well enough, and others will be absolute disasters. She’s embarrassed at her failure, but even more devastated you caught her crying over the ornament glob.

Gift giving is, abstract with Mitsuri. She gives it her all, but ultimately, her choices will be a little abstract, and typically food based. She noticed you eat ohagi one time, you can expect that she has provided you with a year supply of the snack with the biggest smile and lack of understanding that you will not be able to eat all of this before it expires.

The Love Hashira is at her core, enamored with those around her. Thrilled, and determined to ensure that the holiday is as good as she possibly can make it. She is taped together with Christmas cheer and glitter, and is determined to do everything she can to make the holiday shine.

Cries at every Hallmark video.

Is overly forgiving of anyone who is not in the spirit, even going so far as to accept the obvious slights against her, rather taking it with a smile rather than discomfort. She’ll think of them over the holiday, wishing for their happiness, and that whatever it is that has upset their heart will be resolved.

Assuming she has not involved herself in their affairs. Is absolutely the type to stalk a grumpy neighbor to get to the root of their holiday dissatisfaction in the hopes of spreading cheer. As her partner, it is your duty to not only keep her on a leash and out of jail, but to also reassure her when her heart shatters with the reality that she will not be able to change everyone’s holiday.

Hold her together when the realization hits her.

And know that the days to come will be froth in an arrange of responsibilities. Kanroji’s dedication knows no limitations, and so, she must set herself to the task. To give the perfect Christmas. If you have shared any holiday traditions with her, know that she will do everything, I mean everything to ensure that the sentiment is held to the nines in perfection. Really, I think this is the only area that Mitsuri could be frightening during this spirit.

She is a stickler for following tradition in part because she believes that it is the ability to perform such consistent rituals that bring the joy to her family and loved ones. So much so that any disturbance in the pattern may land a little harder than you may expect--- it’s not a big deal to you, but it is for her.

Hold her. Remind her to dance to the Christmas music as she bakes. Hold her waste between her arms, whisper the sweet compliments of how delicious her cookies smell. Dare to lick the batter from the spoon. Pull her back to the small joys of the season. Reassure her that her presence is more far more valuable than anything that may await under the tree, nor the wreaths that have adorned every nook and cranny. Tease her neck as she rolls out the dough, breath in the scent of vanilla that has painted her pores, and when the cookies have finished from the oven, peel her away from the kitchen, and the duties she has assigned to herself.

Wrap her in a thick, snuggly blanket. Press her to your chest, sip on eggnog, and snack on popcorn as the cheesiest of Hallmark movies plays. Allow her to fall for characters, choke down every absolutely unlikely story line, and savor the way her lights light up. The sparkle they adorn, the hush of her breath, and gasps at kisses, and just enjoy that this individual, this same creature who cries at movies, and feels devastated when she has to choose in a love triangle is the very same who has little cuts littered across her finger tips earned by threading cranberries because she once again chose, to love you far more than you will ever know.

The Stone Hashira

The holiday can go either way for the Stone Pillar.

On one hand, there is an old comfort of the holiday season that warms his bones, reminds him of his little ones, and on the other hand, leaves him weary and tired from the expectations of those around him.

The push and pull, commercialism, the demands of gifting, and the duties of the season are all heavy burdens for Gyomei. The Stone Hashira is a peaceful individual, one who is deeply affected by his environment, and as an individual who seeks the depths of the season, to bear witness to the bastardized holidays that have overtaken traditions is likely to hit him a little harder than it will others.

Not in a sense that he hates the holidays all together. Himejima is the sort to be swept by childhood nostalgia. Warmed by a familiar scent of cookies, the same the monks may have brought to the temple in his youth. To hear the distant tunes, hummed in the middle of the night in a solemn bow. To witness the warmth of the season expressed through good deeds, and intentions is how he wishes to spend the holiday.

At the same time, the rush of the holiday season is quick to leave him melancholy. As though he has imposter syndrome, struggling to understand those around him who have overly committed themselves to every event like Kanroji or Rengoku, or those who will happily dip into funds like Uzui, Gyomei is likely to struggle to find a happy place amongst the bustle of shoppers, and the overbearing holiday music.

Ghosts of holiday past will likely bear on his soul, the nostalgia on one hand can be a gift that delight him with memories, but on the other can haunt his waking hours. Worried over whether he has done enough this year to make it special, craved to spend just one more holiday with his lost adopted children.

He will see them in everything around this time, and the passing of little ones on the streets can bring as much joy as they can harm.

It is a burden Gyomei does not dare place on anyone, nor does he blame anyone for the weight that he bears. It is a shackle to a pass, to a future of what-ifs, and because of this, he is at arisk of drowning in a depression, suffered to the voices within his mind, and as such, you may find him quieter at this time of year.

His touch a little more distant than the usual way it meets your own.

Distracted.

As such, you will find that for the Stone Hashira, it’s the moments of solace that you will witness his breath. The small pull of his breath, his chest reignited and sparked back to life as the crowds thinned out. The last remainders of demands slowly, but surely dissipate like smoke to the air. Just the quite drift of snow, small children delighting in a snowball fight.

Sparked wars of frost, laughter, childhood joy.

The way the holiday should have always been before consumerism flooded the intentions of the holidays. Siblings normally torn into disputes, rather shared small treasures with one another, a chocolate from the mailman split between the two with genuine consideration. Unbothered who it is that may witness such displays of good behavior.

To be allowed to spend the still ness of the night before the holiday after having endured the onslaught of family, visitors, and wrappings, content to have your head in his lap. The thread of his fingers through your hair. Hummed small music that he cannot remember the name of, or to perform such a ballad on his flute as children are tucked not their beds. The gentle glow of the lights to warm his skin, and your presence to touch his soul. Peace, and quite, and a quite joy that elicits a smile between the press of his lips as he continues to blow.

To Himejima, the holiday has little ties to the gifts beneath trees, or the financial deviations. It’s the time to spend together, to enjoy each other’s company. To laugh over memories, to greet the year to come side by side. A kiss at midnight, crafting the finishing touches for the early morning. To know the delight of the children to come.

To dedicate the night before the holiday, to hearing you read a novel aloud. The hitch of your chest at stunned moments. The warmth of the blankets bundled together is a sense of peace that no other moments could compare.

Except for the day you greet your child’s first holiday.

A gift from the Stone Hashira would be one that encourages self care, little lotions, aromatherapy, even a bath bomb set. Something that will assist you with unwinding in whatever way that comes naturally to you.

The Mist Hashira

Melancholy is a common emotion throughout the holiday season for the Mist Pillar. The distant memories, bittersweet as chocolate beneath his teeth. Recollections of pillaging through the snow with his brother, hanging adornments with his mother, fetching firewood with his father.

For Muichiro, the holiday bears a significant weight upon his heart, and at times, can result in his melancholy morphing into downright cynicism. A damning down ward spiral that will very likely result in his absolute apathetic approach to life. The outward way in which he ignores the delight of those around him, or worse, the way his biting words may land on those who dare to wish him a happy holiday, the jabs while childish insults are still scathing none the less. They will leave scars, as Kanroji is no stranger to being on the receiving end.

It’s a burden far heavier than one his age should endure, nor carry alone. Yet, he does not dare to approach others with the struggle. Content to hoard himself off from those around him during the holiday season.

Asking for assistance does not come naturally to him, and to admit that he needs the aide is an internal grapple that he must face. As such, the demands of the holiday, such as forcing niceties that he does not mean, and dodging the abundance of cheer can wear on his mental state, and lead to a quicker burn out than one would expect of a preteen.

Because of this, it will be the moment in which you delight in the joy of the season. The natural way that children should. Rolled snowmen, laughing amongst the snowflakes despite the obvious threatened frost bite that threatens your fingertips, your dashing through the snow burning your lungs and rosing your cheeks. Innocent, and lost to child delight and expeditions.

An ambush of snow, threatened and playful, or the way you drag him to the ice rink. Invite him to see your touch, to lean the palm of his hands into your own as he presses forward on wobbly legs, years since he has dared to ice skate. The last time with his own brother.

Playful, and light.

The laughter as you slip and slide, the jovial atmosphere. Innocent and warm.

Slide one into another. A half hazard dance that knows no steps, nor sense of rhythm. Just the natural way that you fall into one another.

It’s what he needs to embrace the holiday season. To turn a blind eye to the heavier demands of the season, and to just enjoy the holiday for what it is. The ambience of decorations. The warm glows of Christmas lights sipped between cocoa, as you wander street to street gasping at the displays. The aesthetic of your wandering into the night beneath the stars, illuminated only by the lights of strangers’ homes.

Muichiro is the sort to enjoy the decorations most of all.

And not even the extraordinary displays that department stores will set up, or competitive neighbors. The Mist Pillar would delight in even the simplest decors. Small lights strung by elders who are no longer able to heave themselves up ladders, but still wished to participate in disappearing traditions.

A warm Muichiro is quick to offer heaving the lights upon the roof himself.

The truth is, Tokito enjoys the holiday season. Just as much as those around him, perhaps even more so, but he struggles to admit this. Has to swallow the bitter pill to allow himself to enjoy the time of year as he used to, to welcome the deep meaning of the season. To savor the company of those around him.

To know that they mean something to him.

To accept that he means something to them.

Truthfully, his ideal date would be simply wandering from decoration to decoration, sipping on hot cocoa. Laughing at what it is you see, loosing himself in the glow of the night.

A gift from the Mist Hashira is likely to be abstract. One with deeper meaning than you may expect, so much so that upon opening the gift, you’re likely to wonder what it is you are looking at regardless of how pretty it is. Confused at the tilt of your head as you search his own gaze, one that is proud.

In the same sentiment, Muichiro is rather accepting of any gift. He’ll happily accept even the cutesy mittens you have knitted for them, wearing them every opportunity that arrives.

The Snake Hashira

Online shopping KING.

Is smarter than everyone, and has discovered online shopping. As such, he has already received every single gift, in perfect condition far before any of us have dared to brave the stores.

It’s his natural disposition to avoid other people that has him confident in his shopping skills, so much so that if Iguro has forgotten someone, he is secure enough to conclude that they were not worth purchasing a gift for in the first place.

His gifts are wrapped shortly after their arrival, and awaiting your attention beneath the tree.

Despite how it may appear, and I completely understand if this catches you by surprise, Obanai delights in the holidays, but he would never openly display such joys. He’s not like Kanroji in openly greeting others. His well wishes are small.

Opening doors for someone struggling with packages.

Leaving a small gift at door steps to be discovered.

The Snake pillar hides his holiday cheer well, and it is met with the utmost sincerity in maintaining holiday traditions. Much like a checklist that has necessary tasks, no one is more skilled at meeting the challenges of the holiday as Obanai is, nor as calmly as he accomplishes them.

Obanai needs no directions in what needs to be done, and if you are the sort to put things off, you may find him accomplishing your tasks for you. Whether you like it or not—it’s not meant to be rude, rather than he has taken the task up on your behalf to free up more of your schedule. Especially in the event you are a social butterfly.

But he is skipping out on parties.

In truth, it’s one of the few things that Obanai cares about in regard to the holidays. He has no extreme expectations for gifts, though he will not reject your gift should you offer him one. He will openly refute a gift from Tomioka, and other people he does not favor. He is not one for caroling, nor is he drawn to the thrill of bar hoping, vacations, or parties, and so at an initial glance, you may think that the Snake Pillar has no interest in the holiday season.

The truth is, is that he places more significance on the traditions over all else. He savors the familiar feeling of traditions, the comfort and nostalgia of routine habits. Time spent together, is always his favorite.

Because of this, you can trust Iguro to complete all of the tasks necessary to ensure that you can focus on your holiday traditions, whether brought on from your own family, or ones that you have created together.

He is content to decorate the home in advance, to wrap all your gifts along with his, to pour himself into making the perfect cocoa, or picking up eggnog. He’ll ensure that you have your ugly sweater for the holiday office party.

Or prepare meals in advance for the holiday nights to come.

He’ll even bake cookeis for neighbors, or your friends so long as you do not expect him to hand them out in your place.

Due to his natural deviation from strong scents, I also imagine that the holiday season can often lead to him feeling touched out a lot sooner than he normally may, and as such, you may witness him recoil from socializing a lot sooner, and so much more intolerant. It’s likely the strong scent of cinnamon that has shooed him from your side.

All for the sake of ensuring that your traditions together will receive the adequate attention. Time decorating cookies together. Engaging in a silly play back and forth, licking the icing from his cheek. Hanging the tree star, his hands at your waste as he supports your weight, leaned in and delighted at the lights that glow. Lighting the fireplace, building a snowman, or crafting an entire gingerbread village. Snuggling into matching pajamas, and curled up with the same rerun of Home Alone, or Elf as you do every year.

It’s your time together that Obanai will pour of all himself into tasks to complete to ensure that he will be able to snag your attention at all costs. Warm into one another, silly as it may sound. Tried and true, but it’s the comfort that warms his soul.

Reciting poems against the fire would be his dream come true.

Allows him to berath, to trace circles upon your hand as you laugh at the same scene you have seen a million times, and will see a million times more.

But, he can never bring himself to admit how dearly he treasures this moment. How desperately he worked for it, to just bask in your company, to snack on cookies and do, absolutely nothing together.

Gifts from Iguro have always been well thought out, and executed, but always received nearly indirectly. His shyness is likely to get the better of him, and because of this, you may believe that you have received nothing at all.

A written poem, just for you left upon your pillow.

The Wind Hashira

Has Christmas spirit

But will never fucking admit it.

Shinazugawa is a traditionalist at heart, he will pour himself into the holiday in many ways, all while doing his best to appear as uninterested as he claims to be. Struggles to admit, and conform to this image he has boasted of himself. The smallest pout from a little child will fold his “I don’t give a damn” faster than you can whisper ho, ho, ho.

As the older brother, and often times provider for his family, the Wind Hashira naturally wanders to positions that expose him to the needs of others, but being who he is, he cannot admit that he is aware of struggles.

Because of this, there is a lump in his throat when he considers the thoughts of the holiday expenses. Money is always on his mind, how to ensure that he has enough, to ensure the comfort of your life style as well as that for his little brother.

A neighbor lamenting about not being able to find their daughter’s must have wish list, oh the Wind Pillar will hiss his insults. Curse the annoyance, and utter how fucking pointless a toy is when she will have moved on to the next must have in no time.

Just to fucking travel to every damn store in the surrounding areas in search of this stupid doll because at the end of the day—the little girl has always been very sweet, and asks for nothing.

He’ll find the damn doll if it kills him.

Due to his temperament, Shinazugawa has a tendency to pour himself into more than he lets on. His refusal to turn a blind eye will often result in him being lead into a number of commitments all without realizing how he has implicated himself.

He cannot ignore the little old man struggling to carry a tree into his home.

Shinazugawa will curse and utter every fowl word in a glower at the old man for how stupid he is to think one of his age should be doing such labor, all while dragging the tree into his home. Decorating it, and sighing at his annoyances.

The Wind Pillar will do the same when it comes to gifts, he savors the opportunity to just bask in loved ones opening presents he has selected for them. To bear witness to the joy that claims their features. Warmed, and tempted at the way their squeal meets his ears.

It makes him miss his siblings.

It’s this excitement that drives him. Pushes him through store to store, fumbling through shelves determined to find the gift that will draw a smile to your face. One that will remind Genya that he is a child. Impart his consideration of the other Hashiras, but he at the same time, you can expect that depending on who the gift is intended for, and where they are at in their relationship—they’re not going to know that the gift is from him.

Or that he is watching from the bushes.

To the same extent, you will find that the holiday season can weigh on Shinazugawa more than you may expect—he has always accepted so many responsibilities that to deny them as they come up would be like plucking a fish from water.

He cannot explain how it is he became the sole person in charge of preparing the holiday dinner.

It’s because Kyojuro’s straying from a traditional recipe resulted in Shinazugawa banning everyone from the kitchens.

The same traditional values that shooed Rengoku from the kitchens is the very one that will also have him fussing over things that aren’t as prone to mattering. The exact placement of decorations, the gifts to consider parting. He will abide by all holidays rules as though they are a faithful code of conduct, rather than a suggestion.

Yet, he will accept it without a second thought, but he’s going to bitch about it. All while hiding a shy smile behind his hand as he averts his eyes, expressing that it is down to the fact that he needs to get started. Really, he’s embarrassed and overjoyed to hear the sincere compliments that flows from everyone.

The red that meets the tip of his ears as the sweet sentiments fall upon his ears.

He’ll scream shut up already and eat, but oh, he has memorized every compliment to memory.

Struggle to swallow the knot in his throat, stuttering and fumbling at your unabashed praise of his efforts.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #tomioka giyu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #mitsuri kanroji x reader #gyomei himejima x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #obanai iguro x reader #sanemi x reader

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rinsuniverse · 10 months

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hello~~ can i request a woozi imagine where reader is sick but refuses to tell woozi bc she doesn’t want him to worry but he finds out anyways? thank you!!

sick with woozi! ✧˖°.

this is a cute idea and probably a canon event 😭

i imagine you're probably a hard worker and a borderline workaholic like woozi

so it's no surprise you've overworked yourself and wake up the next day feeling so under the weather

for once, jihoon got up before you, which was his first red flag

he sat up in bed and saw you shivering in your sleep

but he brushed it off, thinking you must've just been cold

he kissed your nose before leaving to go to work, not forgetting to fix your blankets in case it really was too cold

the next red flag was when it was around lunch time and he still didn't receive a text from you

"that's weird," he says as he snacks on something in his studio.

he thinks "well, it's not like they always have to text first. this is a two-sided relationship, so i'll just text to check in."

jihoon: hey y/n, i hope you're doing well

you respond rather quickly

you: omg i totally forgot to text, i woke up late and had to rush to work, so i barely had time

jihoon: it's fine, really

jihoon: are you feeling alright?

you: yeah! i'm feeling great, what about you?

he shrugged off his concern immediately, trusting you completely

little did he know, you were at work, but you were feeling terrible

you had the chills, your head was killing you, you could barely breathe, and you felt like time was passing way too slowly

but you thought that you wouldn't want him to worry about you

he's the type to helicopter over you, texting and checking in every chance he gets

and even worse, he might ask to get off work early so he can care for you

which you don't want because you know how much jihoon loves his work

the next red flag came when jihoon knew you'd get off work

you always got off work before him because he loves working at nighttime

and to make up for him always working, he has you video call him and you guys just chill on call until he gets off of work and meets with you in person

he calls you and you pick up, but you refuse to show your face in the camera

that wasn't the red flag though

because he thought, "hmm, maybe they don't want to show their face today, and that's okay"

but when he goes "hey, how was work?"

and you respond nasally with "it was pretty good, thanks for asking"

his eyebrows furrow

"you sound different"

"oh, really? it's probably my allergies"

"are you taking medicine for it?"

"yeah, don't worry about it, ji."

only he IS going to worry about it

jihoon is not dumb

he still responds with "okay, hope you feel better"

it was fine until he was almost done with work, and he was going to check in with you again thru the call, but you were sound asleep

"y/n, are you sleeping? did you even eat first?"

but there was no response

everything about you today was really odd to him and he knew it couldn't just be allergies

he tried to be rational, thinking "i have slept 20 hours in a day before, so it's fine if they sleep a lot"

but he can't help but feel a little worried for you

he does rush to your home a bit quicker than usual

he goes straight to where you were sleeping, which was on the couch

this was when all the alarms went off in his head

and the way his eyebrows furrow and a frown forms on his face when he sees you shivering, breathing unevenly, and sniffling in your sleep

"i knew it," he laughs to himself

he goes and grabs a thermometer and takes your temperature, shaking his head when he sees the fever

he shakes you gently

"oh, hey, jihoon. welcome home-"

"let's get you some food first, and then i'll warm up a bath for you, yeah?"

"what? i'm feeling fine-"

"you're not fine," he shows you the thermometer. "if you're sick, why didn't you tell me? i could've come home early-"

"that's the point. i didn't want to inconvenience you or make you worry..."

"you're not inconveniencing me. i'm just taking care of you the way you would take care of me. don't ever think otherwise."

and that's when you start crying, like a sick baby who wants comfort

he pulls you into a hug, not knowing how else to soothe you

he whispers sweet nothings into your ear like "y/n, you're okay," "please don't cry, baby," and "i'm here now, let me help"

you melt into him

he quietly cares for you

he cooks you a simple dinner and even washes the dishes afterward while you sit in a warm bubble bath he prepared for you

he then waits for you to get dressed and do the rest of your night routine, then guides you to bed, where he tucks you in

he even gets multiple different blankets in case you get the chills again

he stays up all night, going between working on his laptop, rubbing your back, replacing the cold, wet rag on your forehead, and helping you whenever you need to get up in the middle of the night for more medicine or to vomit

he probably won't kiss you or get too close while you're sick, but he'd still care for you in any way he can

overall, jihoon really cares about you. he loves his work almost as much as you, but don't feel like you're inconveniencing him. he understands this comes with being in a relationship with someone you love.

please trust him next time. he wants you to rely on him sometimes, even though he loves it when you both are your own individual, independent people a lot of the time!

thank you so much for the request! i hope you enjoyed this. feel free to request more ✧( ु•⌄• )◞◟( •⌄• ू )✧

(p.s. requests are still open! i specialize in woozi stuff, but i also don't mind writing about other svt members ς(>‿<.))

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celemilii · 24 days

Text

NOT IN LOVE; FERNANDO ALONSO | 01 WELCOME TO BAKE-SONALITIES

WATTPAD | INSTAGRAM | MASTERLIST

taglist: just tell me in the comments if you wanna be tagged <3

warnings: curse words; english not being my first lenguage so my apologies if you see any mistakes :)

⇚ previous part

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

I drink from my cup of coffee and finish writing the email I was writing for the Marketing and Communication area. I can't help it, but I overhear the heated argument Toto is having with Andrew Shovlin, Mercedes' chief engineer, in his office. As far as I understand, the last race hasn’t gone bad at all but it is still not enough. A third and fourth place means nothing if you can have the first two.

My phone rings for the fifth time in an hour and I ignore it again. I don't even have to read the screen to know it's my father. He's been calling me for days, so at this point, he must be catching a flight to England to find out if I'm still alive. I don't need him to take care of me or worry in any way, I'm fine on my own.

Well... alone, not alone. Alessia, who is as alone as I am in this country, messages me almost daily to tell me how she is doing with her violin practice and even sends me videos to show me her progress. For my part, I talk a lot but I don't want to overwhelm her with my things so I limit myself to listening to her. This afternoon we would meet to have brunch at a cafe in London.

“I don't want you to come back here until you solve the fucking problem, Andrew!” I hear Toto's clear scream when Shovlin opens the door and then closes it so hard that I thought he would break it.

"Your boss is an idiot," the engineer complains.

“My boss is yours,” I mock, “and if I were you I would be careful, because he has ears everywhere.”

"I don't care anymore," he murmurs, "let him know he's an idiot!" he exclaims loud enough for the Austrian to hear.

“You behave like children, isn't it simpler...?” Before I finish speaking, the company cell phone starts ringing so I answer it. “Sorry, I must attend,” I excuse myself and the British man nods with a smile. I thought he was going to leave to let me continue with my work but he stayed waiting for the call to end. “Mr. Wolff's office, this is his secretary speaking.”

"Yes, I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Cruz," exclaims the girl at the reception who, if I remember correctly, is called Abby, so I decide to take the risk.

“Oh, Abby, has something happened?”

"There is a situation down here and I wanted to know if you could come and explain to Mr. Alonso why I can't let him pass without an appointment," she murmurs.

“Mr. Alonso?” I question and she makes a noise of agreement. “The driver?”

“Yes, Miss. He insists that it is important and that it should enter despite not having a date,” I think for a moment before giving her an answer. Toto doesn't have any other appointment for today, I could give him a place if it's so urgent.

“Let him in, I'll take care of it, don't worry. And... Abby,” I call her.

“Tell me.”

"Don't Miss me and call me Victoria," I ask her. I end the call after that and the man sitting in front of me is still there, waiting for the perfect moment to say whatever he wants to say.

“It's good to see that you are adapting well, Vicky.”

“Victoria,” I correct him. “It 's Victoria. Nobody calls me Vicky”

“Well, I could do it if you let me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know…” the look he gave me was more than enough to understand what he was trying to say and the simple thought of me dating again made me want to vomit.

“No, I don't know,” I respond, playing dumb.

“Wouldn't you like us to go out on a date?” he dares to ask. One star for the effort, but the answer is still no.

“Andrew, I seriously don't mix work with my personal relationships,” without even allowing him to argue, the lift doors open and reveal Alonso.

“Victoria!” exclaims the Spaniard. "How nice to see you," he says as he approaches my desk. The Englishman notes that he had to continue working, so he quickly says goodbye and leaves along the same path that the chestnut tree had come from. “Am I interrupting something?”

"My work day," I pronounce in our native language. “If you need to speak with Toto, I regret to inform you that it is by appointment. I can give you a number that you can call…”

“And do I also need an appointment to see the assistent?” I'm serious when I ask: what's wrong with men?

"Especially to see the assistant," I conclude, handing him the paper. Yes, I was going to let him in, but I didn't like the secretary's comment at all.

"This place is very nice," he exclaims in a vague attempt to get me to chat. He plays with the flower that I have placed on my desk and comes closer to smell it. “Very natural.”

“The only natural thing in this building is the flower I put here. The rest is all glass.”

“Yes, but it gives good light.”

"Listen, I don't want to be rude but I don't know if you understand that you need an appointment to speak with Mr. Wolff," I remind him. “Likewise, you could leave me your question and then I will send you the answer using the number that I wrote down on the paper. I´m sure that Toto has your number.”

“And is this yours?” he dares to ask and resigns himself when he receives no answer. “I don't want you to make fun of me with what I'm going to ask.”

“If you come looking for a seat, I´m afraid that we already have a world champion who is more than capable of continuing to perform on the track.”

"I don't doubt it," he answers with the same sarcasm as me. “In fact, I came to ask him if there was any clause in his secretary's contract that prohibited her from dating people from other teams.”

“And why don't you ask me directly?”

"Because you would tell me to fuck you," he says simply.

“You're a bastard.”

“Go on a date with me and let me prove to you that I'm not.”

“Men like you think you're very smart, Fernando, and let me tell you something, you're not. Just because you're attractive and a millionaire doesn't mean we're all going to fall for you. That's not how this works.”

“Do you think I'm attractive?” he asks hopefully.

"Hey, Victoria," my boss's voice falls as he sees who is sitting in front of me. “Fernando,” exclaims with surprise, “you are very far from Enstone, aren´t you?”

“Yes, I wanted to ask something but Victoria was able to answer my question in efficiently,” he looks at me funny and I, on the other hand, want to kill him. “She's a very good secretary,” congratulates me. “If you're looking for a job, Alpine will welcome you with open arms and... well, not just Alpine,” at that last comment, he leaves where he came from.

“Did he give you problems?” Toto asks with concern.

“Nothing I couldn't handle,” I admit, and that seems to calm him down.

"I came to tell you that you can go now if you want, there's not much else to do here and I want to get home early today before Susie puts me to sleep on the couch," he pats my shoulder in goodbye and locks himself in his room again to close everything.

I put the things I had used during the day in my bag and leave the building as soon as possible. I still had almost two hours of travel time to London waiting for me for a type of snack-dinner with Ale in a place called Bake-sonalities, which, according to the Italian, is an amazing pastry shop.

I'm driving around England trying to adapt to driving on the opposite side to what I'm used to. The car is very comfortable and large and, well, obviously from Mercedes. I can't complain about the job. Everything is perfect. Yes, perfect, and I should be grateful but I can't help but wonder if all the things I'm leaving behind are worth the same as the things that await me here.

The car's small screen lights up and I know it's a call but I can't see who it's from. Damn, I have to set this up.

“Hello?”

“Victoria! What are these hours of answering the phone?” Am I an asshole or what? Obviously it was my father.

“Dad, hello... How are you?”

“Good, how am I going to be?” he questions in a bad way. “I'm interested in how you are.”

“Well, I'm going to London to have dinner with a friend.”

“I'm glad you've made a friend, Vicky!”

"Don't call me that," I murmur. “Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Yes, but it's still your nickname here. He put it on you and it stayed on you.”

“Well, he cheated on me, is that just why everyone is going to cheat on me too?” I realize the abrupt tone I used instantly so I take it back. “I'm sorry.”

“It's ok. I know having a broken heart hurts, but that doesn't mean you can't trust again," he murmurs.

“I don't need distractions like that right now, I just want to focus on important matters, like work.”

“Matters of the heart are important too.”

"Dad..." I exclaim in a warning tone.

“I know, it's your life and it's not my concern, but it's my job to tell you that you deserve a beautiful and healthy love, not like those two attempts at relationships you had.”

"At least you didn't meet the first one," I say in a mocking tone, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“And thank goodness because if I found out that an eighteen-year-old idiot was dating my fourteen-year-old daughter, I was going to send him to prison.”

"Now, don't be angry," I smile almost without realizing it when I notice how much I had missed my father.

“At least you're already in England. You already have the new beginning you wanted and you are happy, that's the important thing. You now have the new beginning you wanted.”

And I'm happy with that because, when I left, the decision was made because I finally decided to stop waiting for something to change so I stopped making such stupid decisions - like begging my ex-boyfriend to love me - and I realized that it was me who had to change.

“Victoria?” my father catches my attention. “Are you still there?”

“Here I am.”

“You already regretted having left,” he's not asking me, he's stating it, which makes me feel even worse. “Maybe your mother was right and it was a mistake” bringing my mother into the conversation makes uncontrollable anger grow inside me.

“Well yes, it is a mistake. I know it was a mistake,” I admit, “but there are certain things that you know are a mistake but you don't really know they are because the only way to really know if it's a mistake is to make it and look back and say -it was a mistake-. But, really, the biggest mistake is not... making that mistake” of repeating the word "mistake" so many times, my sentence sounded like a tongue twister but it was understood. I understood it.

“If you want to return, you know that you will always have a position here in the company.”

"I don't want a fucking position in the fucking family business," I mutter.

“I'm trying to take care of my daughter, Victoria, and I'm running out of options.”

“I don't need you to take care of me, you never did. I've always managed very well on my own so I don't need you to come here to act as father of the year. I am not your charity, and in no way am I going to allow you to lock me in the family business like you do with Manuel”

I know that my brother is a delicate subject for him because he is his child, the first-born, the loose cannon that they could save. A fucking idiot that for some reason I love, like the rest of the men in my family.

"Okay," he says, ending the talk. “Drive carefully, please?”

“Yes, don't worry,” I look at the GPS and notice that I'm 10 minutes away. “I'm almost there. Hey Dad…”

“Tell me.”

I love you.

I'm sorry.

I miss you.

I want to see you.

Come to England.

I love you from here to the moon.

I love you, dad, very much.

Please.

I'm sorry.

“We'll talk later, I've found a good place to park,” I swallow each of the words I wanted to say to him because it's not something that's common in my family. Talking about feelings has never been our strong suit.

I say goodbye to my father and end the call. The parking spot part wasn't a lie. So, after spending two hours trying to get the car into a giant place where, clearly, I wasn't going to hit anyone, I headed to the bakery, which was just a block away.

London is beautiful. If it wasn't so far from the Mercedes base I would live here or in Edinburgh. It can't be, I'm dying to visit Edinburgh.

The bakery's bell jingles as I enter the blue-framed glass door, catching the attention of Alessia and the brunette girl behind the counter. The aroma of the environment gives me a feeling of warmth and home. I don't know what that smell is but I definitely want one of those.

“Victoria!” Alessia greets, meeting me halfway to give me a big hug, which I reciprocate somewhat surprised. “I hope the trip hasn't been long for you.”

“Quite the opposite, it went away in a flash. Ale, do you know what smells so good?”

“Let's ask Evie,” she offers me. We stop in front of the counter to wait for the brunette, whose name seems to be Evie, and I take the opportunity to observe the place carefully.

It is not very big, but not too small either; It seems to be the clearest example that customers receive personalized attention because it should not be a coincidence that each one has a cake that seems to represent them so well at first glance, not to mention their faces of pleasure when trying the desserts.

"Here I am, I'm sorry," comments the one who would swear that she is the owner of the place, well, she is alone here. The brunette looks at me with a smile so I decide to introduce myself.

“I'm Victoria, my pleasure.”

“And I'm Evie, the pleasure is mine," she exclaims kindly. "Ale told me that you work in Formula 1. My boyfriend too," she says with a smile.

“I'm actually Toto's assistant,” Evie's kindness and energy made me forget about the whole talk with my father a moment ago. “I'm sorry to ask this way but I feel that if I don't I won't stay calm,” my friend, who is still by my side, laughs when she hears me say that. “What smells so good?”

“I just finished the Black Forest cake, that could be a guess. Now that I think about it, it looks perfect on you.”

“The cake?”

"No way, Evie, it's true," Ale agrees.

“I will trust your opinions then and Black Forest will be.”

“Noted. Ale, the usual?”

“You know so.”

“Then a portion of the Black Forest and an individual tower of profiteroles for you.”

Once we have our orders, we sit at one of the tables near the window to have a view of the beautiful London streets.

"Try it, I want to see your face when you try Evie's pastry," the Italian asks. I look at her with a smile before cutting a piece with a fork and putting it in my mouth. Suddenly, I feel like I'm in that scene from Ratatouille where the flavors explode in Remy's mouth. The dark chocolate mixed with the creamy cherries made me close my eyes and taste as if I had tasted a sweet for the first time. "Welcome to Bake-sonalities," Ale mocks when she sees my face of pleasure.

“It's the most delicious thing I've had in a long time. This is better than having an orgasm.”

“Victoria!” exclaims Ale, laughing at my comment. "Now, stop having an orgasm while eating and tell me about your day," she asks.

“Quite strange, really. An engineer, well, the chief engineer of the company offered me to go on a date.”

“Wow, and what did you say?”

“No, obviously. And then something even stranger happened. Your little friend's friend... the Spanish one,” I remind her.

"Fernando," she guesses, drinking from his cup. “What has happened to him?”

“He went to the office and flirted with me as if we were in high school. It 's ridiculous.”

“Wait, wait... What?”

“I swear. He went to the office, made a fuss at the front desk, and then went to my desk to see if I had a clause in my contract that would allow me to date people from other teams. He's an idiot who thinks that by being attractive he'll get whatever he wants.”

“That doesn't even count as flirting anymore, it was wild... Wait, did you say attractive?”

“I have eyes, Ale. I can admit that a man is attractive and that doesn't make me want to fuck him.”

“Yeah, you're right,” silence arose between us until the Italian woman seemed to fall into what I said. “Also, did he drive to Brackley to ask that? I knew about his interest in you but I didn't think it was that big of a deal.”

“His interest in me? Literally today was the second time he saw me.”

"I don't know, he's crazy," she says, laughing. “He asked Seb and I to help him win you over and mentioned some love at first sight.”

“An idiot.”

“Don't you believe in love at first sight?”

“Ale, I barely believe in love.”

“Look, this is the only attempt I will make to make you fall in love with him: he is a good man who helped Seb during his divorce.”

“Yes, only because he already went through one. And by the way, how are things going between you and Seb?”

“The same, I don't want to pressure him with anything but his children will come home on the weekend and I will take care of them during... you know, this whole legal issue.”

"Yeah, that's shit," I exclaim before shoving another bite of cake into my mouth. “Ale, you have to try it,” I ask her.

This is how my friend and I spent the afternoon: between desserts and coffee. Telling us paddock gossip and emptying the dessert case for Evie. As night falls, I notice that it is time to go home. It's not that I like driving so much when it's so late, however, I couldn't help but get distracted by the cookies that the owner of the bakery just took out of the oven.

"You're going to burn yourself,” Evie warns.

“Can I take some?” I asked as if I were a little girl in a candy store.

“I'll put them in a box so you don't get burned. Just tell me which ones.”

“Three with dark chocolate, three of the Red Velvet ones,” I think as I look at the options.

“And can I know when you are going to eat all those cookies?” Ale asks.

“Well, at breakfast or snack, I don't know. Something will occur to me, Rest assured that I will eat them,” I answer with conviction. “I think that's it... oh no, give me three of those little colored ones you have there.”

“Ready?” Evie mocks.

“That 's all.”

At checkout, we say goodbye to Evie and I promise to return to the bakery for more cookies and cakes sooner rather than later. Ale has me hugged by the shoulders and doesn't want to let me go.

“We're not going to see each other for a while.”

“I promise to call you, don't you dare to think I've forgotten that I have to teach you Spanish.”

“And I will teach you Italian, rest assured,” she kisses my cheek before leaving. “Keep me informed and I will do the same.

"It will be a pleasure to listen to the podcasts you record as audio," I exclaim as I walk away.

"Shut up, silly, if you don't have them, you'll miss them," she shouts.

I get to the car with an indelible smile on my face, I don't think I've had this good a time in a while and I needed it more than anything.

A friend, a coffee and stuffing ourselves with sweet things. If that's not the best plan, I don't know what could match it. My mind takes me to work and the situation with Alonso. In short, Fernando is a bastard.

___________________________

taglist:

@bellinghamsbitch @vettelsvee

#f1 #f1 fanfic #fanfiction #formula one #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fanfic #f1 x oc #fernado alonso x oc #f1 x female oc #f1 x reader #fernando alonso x female reader

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