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#this is so stupid but i swear this is all my brain has been recently

zmbiesuga · 7 months

Text

TWENTY TWENTY VISION — m. atsumu x gn!reader

sypnosis: atsumu needs glasses, but why on earth would he make his & your life easier by wearing them?

warnings: i'm gonna beat the shit out of atsumu oh my GOD he irks me so bad, post-timeskip atsumu, eensy bit of angst if you squint super super hard, osamu mention, i can't write the miya accent™ for the life of me but i tried so sorry, petnames such as baby used, he calls the reader pretty

notes: inspired by the fact that i just recently got my new glass and haven't had a pair since i was 14 so seeing the world focused fucks with me a lil bit, ALSO, atsumu with glasses has been flooding my brain, osamu is farsighted cause i said so

"I'm not wearin' 'em."

"Atsumu, please, you need to wear them, you have astigmatism in both of your eyes! And you're nearsighted!"

Atsumu lets out a soft huff as he crosses his arms, as if he isn't the reason you've been having this argument essentially since you brought up him even getting his eyes checked.

It all started when Osamu had gotten new glasses, that's what Atsumu thinks anyways, that this is all stupid Samu's fault.

Osamu came over one afternoon for a harmless visit, with new glasses on. You had asked Osamu about them, and commented that you never knew he needed glasses to which he responded:

"Oh yeah, me and Tsumu both do, he just hasn't worn his since junior high."

You swear you've never seen Atsumu react so quickly, his head snapping to Osamu and immediately telling him to shut up through gritted teeth. The subject gets dropped instantly, but now you're giving Atsumu side-glances throughout the night until Osamu leaves.

After you two are settled into bed and Atsumu is almost asleep, until your voice rings out in the dark.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

"...What are ya on about?" Atsumu asks, turning to face you with a soft expression.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask again, "Because you don't wear glasses like you're supposed to, so the world's all unfocused for you all the time, is that why?"

Atsumu's silence and stunned expression is all the answer you need.

"That's what I thought," you mumble before turning away from him, "your eye appointment is Saturday at four."

And that puts Atsumu where he is now, sitting at the island connected to the kitchen in your small apartment, staring down the thick black lenses as if he was trying to explode them with his mind.

"I said, I ain't wearin' 'em," he huffs again vehemently, looking at you with an unwilling expression, "and that's final. I don't need no stupid glasses, I can see just fine."

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, palms resting against the island as you stand on the opposite side of it, "If you don't need your glasses, read the paper on our fridge. Without squinting."

Atsumu's face goes a little pale, his eyes widening slightly. He looks over your shoulder at the paper held onto the fridge with a stupid magnet in the shape of a volleyball.

"It, uh..." he trails off, trying to not squint as much as possible, "...it...it doesn't matter what it says! I'm still not wearin' those glasses! I don't need 'em!"

"Atsumu that paper is no more than four feet away from you, and you can't even tell me what the bolded title says," you responded in an almost pleading tone, "baby, you need your glasses, so I am begging you, please put them on."

Atsumu's face softens slightly at your pleading voice, before it turns unwilling again as he looks down at his arms and mumbles something you can't quite make out.

"What was that?" you ask.

"...They make me look dumb," he repeats a little louder, looking back up at you, "they make me look like an idiot, and since my eyes aren't used to being focused, I feel like a baby deer learnin' how to walk."

"Tsumu," you reply gently, your own expression softening, "if you didn't like the way glasses look, why didn't you ask for contacts?"

"Because they scare me," he rebuttals, "which I know is stupid because they're an easy solution to my problem, but they rip and get stuck and...I don't know, that just scares me."

You stare at him blankly before taking a deep breath, "Atsumu," you start, "I'm not...trying to make you look stupid, okay? I just know that you need them, and you know that too. It might be awkward at first, but won't it be worth it to see the world a little more clearer? So you won't have to squint to read traffic signs or drive through menus? And, glasses aren't a permanent solution, we can work our way up to contacts, but you need to wear these for now."

Atsumu looks down at the glasses again, letting out another unsure sigh as he picks the thick rims up, and places them on his face.

It's weird at first, everything is clearer. The titanium fridge, that stupid volleyball magnet and the paper it holds, and more importantly...

You.

The way your entire face shifts into focus leaves Atsumu speechless. He knows how pretty you are, he doesn't need glasses to see it, but god do they make it better.

You give Atsumu a weird look, "What?" you ask puzzled, "Can you see better?"

"Yeah," he responds with a small smile, "I can see real good, pretty."

#love letters from leo #my dearest haikyuu #atsumu x gn!reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu drabble #atsumu fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x gn!reader #hq fluff #haikyuu drabble #hq drabble #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x gn!reader #atsumu miya drabble #atsumu miya fluff #wear your glasses or contacts kids

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lovesickry · 7 months

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- wish you would.

┈⋆⭒ lando norris x fem!reader [8k] ┈⋆⭒ masterlist! ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ contains: 18+, pwp, smut, angst, dickhead lando, dickhead reader, swearing, alcohol consumption, general stupidness. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⎯ a/n: this has been brewing for the longest time in the depths of my brain istg, its a long one.

your relationship with lando recently, had more or less been……tainted. by some imaginary force, but some force nonetheless.

you’d fallen out of touch simply and quickly but you missed him, as any “friend” would do. moping about in the house you shared with max and him, it wanst fucking fair, he didnt get to do this to you. It had been four weeks since you last heard from him, max was god knows where, off with Lando and here you sat.

it was just fucking miserable. Four weeks ago you were in fucking ibiza and now your bestfriend hated you, so your life definitely wasn’t going as you thought it would have.

Didnt help that on the last time you saw him you may or may not have fucked in a bathroom stall and then just pretended nothing happened the rest of your trip. Though when the season started again he didn’t respond to a single one of your texts, or quite literally communicate with you in any way whatsoever.

//// communication over the past few weeks:

4 weeks ago:

hey lando was the the flight back alright?

lando?

3 weeks ago:

are you alive?

max told me you're alive so what is it then?

2 weeks ago

oh come on lando

LANDO?

you can't just ignore me and fucking see max every weekend are you joking?

A week ago:

can you just talk to me?

you were practically furious, after the confusion went away, after the tears went away you were just furious. with him, how he treated you.

Originally you had tried to brush it off, that it was just him coming to terms with his breakup with luisa and you being (so you thought) the first person he had been with since, but the breakup was 4 months prior to Ibiza and you couldn't dismiss it as a simple "fuck". Not with all your history.

The worst part though, you remembered every little detail.....every time his skin touched yours, every single thing he whispered in your ear, each time he did something that made your stomach tighten or the hairs on your neck stand up. It would've been easier if you hadn't thought about that night, but that would be a lie. It sat there in the corners of your mind every waking moment and you couldnt shake it and now he wouldnt even fucking talk to you. Asshole. You'd be seeing Lando in a week nonetheless, he couldn't exactly avoid you considering you lived in the same house and he would be in the country. Though you couldn't count on it, considering the lengths he's went to so far.

///// FOUR WEEKS AGO- {Ibiza. Following the Spanish Grand Prix.}

his laughs were muffled as his mouth hits yours, his hands guiding you against the furthest wall of the bathroom. the music was loud and you could still hear it through the concrete walls of the bathroom.

it was lit by purple light and as you pulled back, now flush against lando and opened your eyes you swore lando looked less like a man and more like something else entirely. his hands were on your hips far too fast for somebody who hasn’t thought about this before, wanting to kiss every inch of your neck as your hands grabbed and tugged lightly at his curls. every noise he made was heaven, every touch a gift.

“I want to be inside you”

You could've sworn that comment made you blush, or atleast freeze up a little. Your stomach coiling and heating as he met your gaze. Fucking hell. His lips were puffy, his hair a mess.

He had never looked better a day in his life, you were frantic the way you kneeled in front of him to undo his belt and then his trousers.

“Fuck look at you”

“Oh my god”

If you weren't wet you sure were now, Lando had one of those mouths that was rarely closed and in this case you were glad for it. He wasn't afraid to make noises with you either, each rhythmic sound leaving his mouth dug the hole deeper and deeper.

By the time Lando was stripped to his boxers and you to your bra and panties he was desperate, making it known just how much he wanted, needed you. his hands were having trouble staying still and yours were roaming all across his stomach while he repeated your name in you ear, like a mantra.

He was searing hot, the muscle on his stomach was flushed and you could feel him grimacing in your neck the longer your hands lingered on a particular place. The minute your hands drifted down to where you needed him most he made a kind of pleased breathy nose, squeezing at the skin of your waist.

“You’re so fucking hot” you say to him, figuring its about time he knows the effect he has on you as well. Hands drifting lower, under the band of his boxers, hes painfully hard, tip sensitive and pink as you pull his boxers down. He drawls out a long fuck, before pulling you in for one more kiss and then pushing you impossibly closer to the wall.

“Tell me if it hurts okay”

What you would've thought as cocky coming out of anyone's mouth, was sincere coming out of Lando’s, he was……significantly big. As he finally pushed into you, holding the back of your head as to not let it hit the wall he whispered sweet filth into your ear.

“Good girl”

“You can take it”

“So good”

“fuck”

It was all too much, as he bottomed out finally you already felt close and as he moved. Oh god it was already perfect, the buildup and finally this. His body moved rhythmically, controlled and delicious. His hands were mainly used to hold you in place, while yours found the places he liked to be touched most and paid attention to those, relishing in the tiny noises he made in response to you. You could tell Lando was getting close when his thrusts started getting sloppier, less regular, more effort, at that point you brought a hand to your clit, rubbing small circles, trying to read when he was cumming so you could cum too.

“I'm getting close” he choked out, god his words alone coiled your stomach further.

“I’ll come when you do” you say, nodding at him.

“Fuck-yes” another breathy line of speech, followed by sloppy, messy thrusts and some audible groans.

Finally you feel him, pulsing inside of you and you know hes just there, just about there.

“Im-” he goes to say, but you already know.

“Yeah. fuck. Please” your desperate now.

You come with your eyes closed, legs shaking and the feeling of warmth filling your stomach as Lando pulls out and youre met with the blurred sight of a supremely dishevelled Lando whos basically holding you upright and grinning at you so fucking hard youre sure his cheeks would hurt. You lean slightly forward, resting your forward on his shoulder, still breathing hard, heart beating much too fast than normal.

“Why didn't we do that any fucking sooner?” he says, his body shaking slightly, from ecstasy but also from the laugh that rocks his body.You can't help but grin at the comment, feeling the effect of post-orgasm and also from the alcohol earlier. Getting your clothes on is a clumsy, messy endeavour and you both look entirely suspicious when you exit the large bathroom still in fits of giggles.

///// NOW- London. Week of the Silverstone Grand Prix

you recalled the moment with complete contentment, there wasn't a moment you could pinpoint that could warrant this reaction from him. sure he could be feeling a bit confused but seriously?

the text from max announcing that they were on their way was a kind gesture but fundamentally futile. as much as you could avoid Lando you would have to talk to him at one point of another, living arrangements in mind.

The ten minutes awaiting their arrival were ones of complete disdain and anxiousness. Followed by deciding you would go out for a walk to miss them entering the house, leaving just as you heard the front door opening, texting max you were out for a walk. You hoped that by walking at least around the block, maybe you'd clear your mind slightly, being out in nature and all. You walked for about an hour, until the sun started to go down and you figured you should probably go home. The walk had helped slightly, Lando was now only a part of much bigger problems you'd formed in your head. Entering the front door and immediately hearing Lando’s laugh instilled something within you. You were never quiet but in this moment you were, Lando spotted you as he waved to Max in the kitchen and immediately walked towards you. Pulling you into a surprising hug, even Max was shocked, knowing of the circumstances over the last few weeks. Your hands stayed at your sides while he hugged you, not wanting to reciprocate something that was not genuine. After pulling away he went back to wherever he was and Max simply raised his eyebrows at you before shrugging his shoulders. You ate dinner in your room and didn't hear from him all night.

The morning was strange? Lando was almost normal? Like nothing had happened the past weeks, like he had fucking ignored you. You couldn't tell if it was encouraging or unsettling. He sat next to you and asked you about what you’d been up to and genuinely seemed interested. The ignored messages nagged at the back of your mind, bring it up, bring it up. You never did, Max watched on in quiet surprise as the conversation flowed. Not once was the communication, or lack thereof over the past few weeks mentioned. Undeniably odd. The only normal thing that occurred all day was the momentous decision of which Lando decided to pull you away for a chat, you could finally hash it out.

“Sorry i just wanted to say”

He cleared his throat.

“About IBiza”

“Lando-” you go to say, wanting to apologise for gods know what as if you both weren't complicit in your actions and happily so.

“No, I never should’ve crossed the line, fucked with what we have, I'm sorry i ignored you. That was shitty, but I just felt so fucking awful I couldn't shake it. Im sorry”

Your stunned silent, hoping your emotions aren't displayed as clear as you feel them on your face. so the way he was articulating now was that he didnt like you like the way you wish he would?

“Oh” it's a small response in comparison to the quite large statement he just made. You reflect on his words “fucked with what we have”, of course he just wanted to be friends.

You snap out of it, conjuring up a much more deserving response for him.

“Of course. No its okay Lan, thanks for saying something. I always like to know your heart is still beating though”

He lets slip a grin.

“You wish it wasn't sometimes”

“Maybe”

“Yeah piss off”

Just like that it was back to normal, you spent the rest of the day hanging out with Max and Lando watching shit movies and listening to Lando’s many racing stories. The London Grand Prix was this week and talk about it was already riling you up, knowing you were getting a paddock pass with Lando practically made you giddy. You'd always been into the sport having had done karting briefly in your youth but then your parents moved to London and you never really got quite back into it. Thus, there was only so many quips you could make on top of Lando’s stories. The day grew old and soon you were all gathered in your kitchen screaming at each other as Max fought with you over the wooden spoon.

“This is why I cook and you set the table” you said, tugging the spoon towards you.

“I don't wanna set the table”

You laughed at this, Lando too. His tone of voice was childish, mocking almost. You yield and let him stir the sauce as you set the table.

You ate mostly in comfortable silence or small talk, everyone was obviously hungry. After dinner you agree on accompanying Lando to the track the next day. Something that you were undeniably and overwhelmingly excited for, having not gone to a race for a few months and being interested in the sport.

He streamed that night and you would've been annoyed going to bed listening to him chatter on and on had it not been him. But it was him and you loved that he made noise, the reassurance that he was here and not miles away.

The birds seemed to puncture the bubble that encased you in sleep as you groggily rose and opened the blinds, revealing the already blinding summer sun.

Treading from your room to the kitchen to boil the kettle was a silent and pivotal start to your morning, though your morning routine was upheaved by the sight of Lando standing bare, all except his boxer shorts in the kitchen. Leant against the counter tops you could see his bronze chest and the taut muscle that you once so diligently set your fingers upon. The silence of you standing and taking in the sight was interrupted by the sound of the kettle whistle, his body jolted to life, halting the sculpted like state he seemed to be in with your observation.

He ran a hand through his hair, now noticeably ruffled as he reached for a mug from the cupboard. Jutting out another expanse of muscle that you were unprepared for. You realised that you were ogling him quite openly and set forward your feet, your steps were slightly muted by your slippers and you were grateful for the noise to be muffled as you slid in next to him, retrieving your own mug and tea bag from the cupboard. He seemed unphased by your presence, simply nodding at you before looking back at his phone. You were closer to him now and you can see just about every inch of vein and taut skin while you pour the water over the tea-bag, god he's fucking distracting. Lando is jutting his hips out, legs away from the bench as he leans against it. sipping your tea is less relaxing than one might think as you find your eyes darting to any bare skin of Lando's that floods your peripheral vision.

you stood in the kitchen together in comfortable silence for roughly however long it took you to check the notifications that you had received the night before, just as you were conveniently interrupted, lifting your head to listen.

"you excited about today?" he says, smug about his physical state as you nearly struggle for words.

you swallow and form words as fast as you can, lest to make a fool of yourself this early in the morning.

"you're the one racing, are you excited?" its probably a more relevant question, considering.

He scoffs at your question before answering. “well your home grand prix is always mega” He pauses and glances up at you likes hes thinking if what he is about to say is right or not. (he continues) “and you know having you guys at the race is always funner”

you would've been delighted at that fact he had just stated, but he had snuck in you....guys. not just you, not you independently, but you AND max. god you needed to get it out of your head that Lando had any semblance of a romantic feeling for you since Ibiza because clearly the man was as platonic as you could be. you tried as best you could to hide any kind of disappointment which tried to fight its way onto your face.

"More fun?" mocking his english.

It's nowhere near what you yearned to say, but it would do momentarily and he smiled at that, moving closing to you. his warmth radiating, almost uncomfortably in the motionless air that surrounded the kitchen.

"Did I tell you that Oscar nearly beat me at karting the other day?"

You grin at this, it's the lightness to the conversation that you had been anticipating, wanting nothing more than to get rid of this bright, blaring tension.

“Please do go on.”

You sip your tea as you listen to him recount his story of Oscar beating him in his very own karts, you make effort not to spit out the hot water when Lando says something particular funny and slap him on the shoulder. While he continues on, another random tangent coming to mind you get some things out to make breakfast, might as well get on with the day. Considering you all have to leave here in around 3 hours.

Lando leaves midway to “put some clothes on” and you fight your muscles urging yourself to turn around and glance one final time at his bronzed skin. He returns clothed and with Max and you present them with your accumulated breakfast, you eat in rather rowdy conversation, Lando opening a whole can of worms he was not prepared for. then you each go get ready respectively to go to track.

You arrive at track around 11am and Lando punctually leaves your side, excusing himself to go to the media pen. you seperate yourself from Max and Pietra. Not wanting to third wheel, though also not minding the time alone to simply walk around, you even knew some of the drivers now so it wasn't like you'd have nobody, hopefully? the atmosphere was always alight in the paddock, though you’d developed a habit of pretending to be more important than you were, thus to avoid being approached by much older, much richer men who said they could “look after you”. you run into daniel and you couldn’t be happier, greeting him with a hug. he had been happier since he had re-joined redbull and you’d been overjoyed for him, you’d noticed when he was at mclaren the sheer mental effort it took him not to breakdown sometimes and you’d try as hard as you could being who you were (landos friend) to try and console him. you’d formed a kind of friendship that depended on if lando was with luisa and you’d kind of just hang around with him. he was what everyone said he was; relentlessly kind, endlessy funny and much too charming.

you weren’t ashamed to admit you’d gotten with him a few too many times when he was broken up with his girlfriend, though when you told Lando he was less than impressed, feigning the wounded best friend card for the best of a month, before finally getting over it. but it had never gone further than sex, there was something between you two, something unnameable but tangible that said it when you didn't need to. you were close friends besides that and he was always fun to talk to, you'd missed him around.

"whatcha doing here?"

"just supporting the muppet" (lando) whom he knew and nodded fervently at the reference.

"ohhhhhh"

"haven't seen you in a while, how are ya?"

"pretty good, lando and me just had a falling out but everything's fine now I think"

"shit. what about?"

you pause.

"you don't have to tell me, sorry"

"no no its all good, just-hold on"

you lead him into a semi private corner of the red bull area.

"we kinda had sex"

his face dropped, eyes wide, mouth slack, like a fucking cartoon.

"FINALLY" he says, much too loud and you go to cover his mouth with your hand.

"SHUSH"

"ok sorry" he whispers

"but go on, tell me all the juicy details"

"youre disgusting" you scoff.

he waits for you to continue... and you do.

"okay fine, do you remember Ibiza?"

"yes..." he's smirking now, swaying side to side.

"well we fucked in the bathroom and then he ignored me for four weeks and then he kinda apologised and said that he"

you put your fingers up, making air quotes with your fingers.

"never should've fucked with what we have"

you let that sink in for a second, Daniel clearing processing your words, fair enough.

"fuck that" he says finally, exhaling deeply.

you let out a small laugh and lean against the wall opposite to him.

"literally look" you bring your phone from your pocket, scrolling through and revealing the countless messages that were left unanswered.

"then he just shows up and pretends nothing happens. and okay, im glad he said something, after all that, but it wouldn't have killed him to fucking respond"

"lando is stupid sometimes, as someone on the receiving end. he either gets over it or.... he just fucking comes to his senses" he makes a kind of flowing hand gesture and then continues.

"so he'll either confess his love for you in prince-like fashion or ignore you for the rest of your life"

"great."

"I'm filled with wisdom I know"

"okay but seriously I think I have to go, but just wait for lando to crack or something.

he pauses and tilts his head slightly quirking a brow.

or.. better- juust make him crack."

he's out of the red bull garage, in the middle of the paddock when you grab his arm, he turns to face you.

"okay don't be all cryptic wise one,"make him crack", come on?"

"make him crack"

"what?" exasperation is the best word to use to describe your emotions right now.

"make.him.crack"

god hes so dramatic, his face inching closer.

you roll your eyes.

"how?"

just then, you feel the air move around you as a body walks past. you look up and see the fading papaya of Lando. Though he doesn't aknowledge you, your head is now fully turned staring at the back of Lando. Danny turns to join you and slaps you on the back, you jolt forward.

"think you just did" he walks off, though not before turning once more back to you.

"GOOD LUCK!"

oh christ, you angle your head down, walking wordlessly in the direction to McLaren hospitality to hopefully either see Lando and unpack whatever it was you thought you saw plastered on his face or perhaps see Max and have a pleasant conversation that didn't involve Lando Norris.

you make your way to McLaren hospitality, only stopping to talk to Lily who was just fresh out of a golf tournament, you always looked on in awe as she spoke about it. you quickly found Max and Pietra, mingling and sipping on champagne that you did not want to see the price of. looking over the track you ask the only question you can think of.

"have you seen lando?"

"nah, he came in and then kinda disappeared" max replies.

"maybe his driver's room?" pietra offers.

better than nothing.

would you even be allowed back there?

you somehow weasel your way into the McLaren garage, being asked on numerous occasions what you were doing and who you were simply to respond with; oh, uh, um, I'm Landos friend. you were hopeless but somehow they believed you and you were given one last interrogation by his physio before he recognised you and let you past, finally reaching his door. if he wasn't here, you might just take a nap in his room anyway, deserving resulting of the effort it took to get yourself here. you raise your hand to knock and almost stop yourself but let your fist hit the door. he's flushed when he answers the doors, you can see a slight sheen to his face as you walk in, he stands to the side wordlessly as you pass him.

“pietra and max are so happy it makes me wanna throw up”

trying to hopefully prove daniel wrong and also cut the undeniable tension that seemed to encase both of you. lando let’s out a small laugh at your comment. going to sit down, you follow him across the room.

“I forgot how hot it is” he throws his hands up frantically and flops on the couch.

you open your mouth to respond but nothing seems to flow out. you follow him simply across the room, sitting across from him and meeting the top of his head as he looks down at his feet.

"you okay?" his head jolts up and he shakes it like he wasn't fully listening.

"oh huh... yeah sorry, no im good. you?"

"really you just seem distracted, sorry im not trying to pry I just-" he cuts you off

"maybe you're just distracting me" he's smirking while he says it and you can tell hes joking even if you wish he wasn't.

"oh haha" you say, deadpan, aware of the fact that he could be entirely mocking you.

he laughs again, genuinely this time and you smile at the sound.

"what do you even do in here"

"nothing"

"really?"

"its my favourite thing to do"

"I thought it was sleeping"

"you're so funny"

"I know, I don't get it from you though"

"oh really? who'd you get it from?"

"your old teammate" you joke, though he seems to not be in the mood.

he scoffs but doesnt laugh and his face returns to a formal neutrality.

"oh come on" you say jokingly

"what?" he says fast

you look at him quizzically and he continues, seeming to gather a question from your expression.

"just stop being obsessed with Daniel its gross"

its your turn to get fed up, the audacious nature of his comment making you sick.

"what?"

"he has a girlfriend you can't be fucking flirting with him"

there was a burning anger coming up your throat.

"I wasn't flirting lando, why do you always want to fight"

"I've seen you flirt and you were fucking begging him"

"you're such a fucking hypocrite lando"

"wanna be more specific?"

"ibiza?"

"what about it" his jaw is clenched now and hes stood up, as are you.

"the fact that you were the dragging me into the bathroom and then the one ignoring me for four fucking weeks maybe?"

"you enjoyed it just as much as I did. don't do that"

"yeah I did fucking enjoy it. I enjoyed it enough to not fucking ignore you"

"I didn't fucking ignore you, I just had to sort some things out"

"like what? how many girls you'd bring home with max after the race that I wasn't invited to maybe?"

it was cruel, but he deserved it. it had been brewing for so long, the anxiety you held towards him based solely on the fact that he could've been with somebody after you simply to rid him of you. while you couldn't fathom getting with anybody else, lest the memory of his skin on yours fade anymore.

"oh fuck off don't pretend that you didn't literally fuck daniel for months when he was my teammate"

"AND.. SO WHAT? I told you that, don't rub that in my face."

"SO WHAT? you were fucking my teammate and I pretended that I didn't care"

"you told me you didn't care. you had luisa and I was sick of standing there like I didn't care "

"so you fucked Daniel cause I was with luisa?"

"you're so infuriating"

"why did you fuck him?"

"BECAUSE LANDO"

"BECAUSE WHAT?"

you were standing uncomfortably close now, your fists balling up your skirt as he restlessly tapped his thigh, rhythmically and fast. there was no coherent response you'd figured would be appropriate to reply with, so you didn't.

lando moves closer to you, looking down at you slightly.

"Why Daniel?" his eyes are firm and he places his left hand loosely on your waist.

you finally look up from the ground and notice his pinky just grazing the patch of skin you have uncovered between the shirt and your skirt.

"why?"

its still anger that fuels you when you respond.

"because" your teeth clenching doesn't let you answer, you swallow, take a deep breath and begin again trying to settle slightly.

"because at least to Danny I was his first choice, not his third."

"did Danny say that?"

"say what?"

"that you were his first choice"

"I fucking hate you sometimes"

"you were my fucking first choice, until you went and had sex with my teammate"

"so you can fuck whoever you want and I can fuck.... nobody?"

he scoffs again, hand tightening slightly on your waist.

"fuck anyone but him."

"anyone?"

"anyone"

"so I can fuck Oscar then"

his face resets, eyes hardening again.

"or George maybe, or Carlos."

"don't"

"yeah. don't what lando?"

"don't mock me"

"this is fucking useless"

you go to walk away, though both his hands were suddenly on your waist. his heads tilts as you resettle into the stance you only briefly left.

"you're so fucking infuriating" you say, the most honest thing you'd said since stepping foot in his room

there were no words for what seemed to follow. your eyes met his and there was something that resembled anguish in his and you couldn't see yours but you wanted his hands to stay on you forever. your mind flicked back to ibiza and there was a increasing space in your mind where you wished that lando would close the space between you and just fucking kiss you.

there was a knock at the door and lando broke immediate eye contact. walking away from you, your head drifts downwards as anger fills you. anger directed towards yourself for wishing he'd touch you and anger directed at him for behaving like he did. he left swiftly as the person at the door mentioned media and you left the paddock soon after, returning to the quiet house as max and pieta were planning to go out afterwards.

you arrive home in the same flurry of frustration that you left the paddock in, going straight to your room and trying to you guess "sleep it off". after lying horizontal for what felt like hours, you realised it wasn't going to cut it. the frustration which you wished had channeled into sleep and not the constant resurfacing of lando's voice, his hair, his hands, his cock that night in Ibiza. you venture into the kitchen and shamelessly take three shots before walking back and lying down, hoping the alcohol would go straight to your head sending you to sleep. you wished that you had fallen asleep instead of trailing your hand down into your already embarrassingly soaking, aching cunt. though, by your 2nd orgasm the frustration was long gone and all that remained was the five senses and the bed beneath you, blurred by the alcohol and the ecstasy of your second orgasm . just as your breath got shallower and you reached for your second hand to bite down on, your phone, which had sat idly by for most of this endeavour decides to start ringing annoyingly loud. never one for your ringer on its confusing why of all moments its this. begrudgingly, you turn over, expecting your boss or even your mother, definitely not lando.

"what?" you're blunt and you're trying hard to conceal your shallow breaths lest you have to concoct an excuse..

"are you home?" hes equally as unemotional but sounds slightly more desperate.

"yeah" you say, keeping it short as you're still exhausted and slightly glazed with a sheen of sweat.

"why are you so puffed?"

the dreaded question.

"went for a run" the heavily debated answer.

"come open the door"

fuck.

you jolted upright out of bed, throwing on a pair of clothes that could be deemed activewear and running past the bathroom to fix your hair and cover yourself in a scent that wasn't sweat mixed with sex. you swing open the door and try to appear once again, out of breath though from something completely fake. you'd even thrown on a pair of running shoes to really sell it, in the off chance that he'd sniff out the lie that you feared and then convince himself he won. his face is blank as you open the door to reveal him still clad in his McLaren kit from today. he looks at you suspiciously up and down before entering wordlessly.

“did i have that much of an effect on you, that you had to get yourself off?”

"I went for a run"

"sure you did"

your eyes widen as he makes the connection, unsure of how he seemed to know, though nonetheless being fueled with anger of his sheer audacity and vulgarity at just about everything. knowing exactly what would tick him off in this moment you did just that.

“maybe it was danny”

“liar” he mutters under his breath

you walk back to your bedroom where you promptly close the door, he follows you most of the way thoigh doesn’t knock on your door, simply passes by. you get out of your clothes and throw on a big t shirt before throwing something on the tv and trying not to get yourself off for the third time today, hating your body because no matter the anger there was still a tangible heat in your core that nagged at you to be fixed.

you must of dozed off because when you woke up your stomach was rumbling and you couldn't for the life of you remember any of the past plot that had led up to the current point that was being shown and your stomach was now aching to be fed. you check the clock which reads 9:46pm and you smile to yourself for being so responsible as you tread out to the kitchen to eat frankly whatever is available. lando appears to be still in his room which lets you breath a little easier as you make some toast for yourself. you hear landos door creak and crane your neck around to see if he exits or not, you spy the quick movement that he makes from his room to the bathroom as he shuts the bathroom door. shortly after, to avoid any awkwardness you dash back to your room after quickly consuming your feast of toast.

your door is slightly ajar as you spot lando making a beeline towards it. you sigh as you only imagine what he is about to say as he opens the door.

"tell me that you weren't flirting with him today"

"lando" you say, partly in questioning, partly in confusion.

"you know" he says, desperately this time, creeping slower towards you.

"I was talking to him about you" you say, quite frankly relishing in the feeling it gives to him any kind of humiliation.

he's stunned silent, though his face paints a faint distrust.

"don't make me cocky" the switch he makes from neutral to smug nearly gives you whiplash.

"talking to him about how to make you "crack" or something"

something twitches within him, like you've caught him during something.

"and how exactly did you plan on doing that?"

you ponder the question but realise lying would do more than truth.

"I think I already have"

he scoffs at that but his eyebrows and jaw is slack and you gain confidence at the sight. moving towards him his eyes follow your every move, scanning over your bare legs and the bare skin where the shit has slid down your shoulder revealing your collar bone. your hands land just above his waistband and he leans towards your touch as your hands circle just above it. drifting ever so slightly up to feel the taut muscle below his shirt. his jaw is clenched as he gains control once more and suddenly grips both of your wrists in his hands. really looking at you now, taking the sight of you in.

"don't"

"why?"

"you're my best friend"

"we passed "friends" in ibiza"

he takes a step backwards towards the wall, throwing his hands out in exasperation.

"fuck you make me so fucking angry, "

he takes a breath and continues, looking at you now.

"I shouldn't look at Daniel like I wanted to kill him just because he talked to you."

his body twitches once again towards you as he opens his eyes to meet yours.

"do you want me to say how good he was?" you say, blaming the alcohol from earlier for your vulgarity.

his eyes flash black and you smile, finally yielding the reaction that lando seemed to get from you.

"bet he wasn't as good as me"

"hmm.... wanna refresh my memory?" its bold but you don't care.

just like that lando steps out of the doorway and closes it behind him, coming straight towards you.

"do you want me too?"

"hm maybe he was better?" you're still teasing because frankly, he still deserves it and you hate to say again but you relish in the feeling you take from it.

"don't act all cute" lando says, voice straining.

with that comment you make a small stride towards him, once again closing the gap between the two of you, though instead of aiming for his waistband you go for the neck.

“don’t pretend that you don’t like it” you say, your breath fanning his neck as he either tries to centre himself or allow you to do whatever it is you’re doing to him. your nose grazing the skin of his neck and he visible shivers, goosebumps littering the skin that you just grazed. it was no secret Lando’s neck was fucking sensitive and you’d always saved the information for a rainy day, today was fucking pouring. you skimmed the right side of Lando’s neck with your tongue, barely touching, only the slightest bit, then focused in on smaller spots kissing around to the left side and then coming up and moving over, he made little sound, though he made clear note that he was holding it in, his hands so harshly by his side, shoved into his pockets to keep himself from touching you, he needed to be the one to break, you wouldn't, accept anything else. so when you finally reached a spot just underneath his jaw, left of his now bobbing throat, he let out a strangled groan/whimper/laugh and you knew that was the first domino to fall. that, noise which brought his hand out of his pockets and onto your hips. the noise which encouraged you to knot of your hands into his hair just how you know he liked it.

"don't make me beg" he says, finally breaking the impenetrable silence by a whisper, a low mumbled sequence of words that makes your core tighten shamelessly.

you break apart finally and look at him; wanton and desperate, neck red and hair messy. his shirt once droopy and casual, now clung to the parts of him that you wished you could see. his shoulders, his chest, his arms. you admired him for a lost amount of time before ever debating the substance of a response, figuring your blatant admiration was enough to tell him that you seriously didn't plan to. your hands leave any skin of his and go behind your back, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull over your head. your room is cold, at least you think it must be, because your nipples are already hard under your shirt as you stand in nothing but your panties directly in front of your best friend. his hands are already out of his pockets, hovering just beside your skin, you mimic the words he’s just said to you.

“don’t make me beg” you say, hoping the crack in your voice is unnoticeable as you portray your last wish for him to put his hands on any part of you.

his eyes are empty now, only looking at you, really looking as he finally drags his hands up and down the side of your stomach. looking at the way your eyes flutter closed any time his fingers brush over your bare breasts. before you can mumble any more arguments his body is on yours, in a flash. he couldn't have touched you fast enough, hard enough, long enough. his lips fought furiously with yours as he displayed your now bare back against the blank wall he once stood on, hands now deliciously free from his pockets and thick fingers all over every part of you. you're tugging at the hem of his shirt while he kisses your neck, wanting nothing more than the feeling of his skin against yours. he breaks apart from you in a flurry and he pulls his shirt over his head. you step back against the wall to distant yourself from him in order to see the whole expanse of his chest as he drops the cloth on the floor with yours. there is nothing but air exchanged between you two for the better of 30 seconds as you stare eachother down. lando eyes raking every inch of bare skin while you hone in on the expanse of his shoulders, noticing a faint but noticeable bite mark that you may or may not have caused.

"eyes are up here?" he says, much too cocky for something who was writhing while you pulled his hair moments ago.

“shut up” you say, making your way towards him once more, basking in the warmth that connects your two bodies. it’s a collision that could be considered bruising as your lips meet, clashing once more, albeit more desperately as you cling to any part of landos skin that is exposed. focusing on the way his back moves with you and the taut muscles that moves in and out. it’s hot between you two, lando is constantly moving his hands that seem to explore just about every edge of your body; your jaw, your neck, that spot just above your hip. he hasn’t even done anything but you’re virtually begging when he finally moves his hands down toward your soaking core. pulling your panties down was swift and lando almost immediately was back on you, covering you, shielding you. he looked at you as he spat in his hand, you’d probably find it disgusting if you weren’t so turned on. your eyes twitched and he lowered his hands, sliding the wetness through your folds, your eyes fluttered shut and your body jolted forward in the pleasure. fuck he felt so good, you throw your head back, against the wall needing some kind of grounding feature. his hands finally pushing inside of you, making you make some kind of strangled sound that lando laughs at quietly as he pushes his thick finger in and out of you slowly.

"so fucking wet huh?" he says beside your ear, taunting lips grazing your earlobe.

you shiver at the comment, disgraced how much he has effected you in such little time. he seems to read your mind though and adds another finger, causing another whole wave of pleasure to come over you and a stretch of fucks and shits and countless deep breaths, you move your hand over his, encouraging him to speed up. which he soon does, painfully so, curling his fingers in and out of you, knowing how close you're getting, paying attention to the way your face flutters and your legs shake. you drag your other hand to your clit while his pace remains bruising. you whimper at the contact, your clit suddenly swollen and sensitive with the contact. your keeling over nearly, lando keeping you entirely upright as you get yourself impossible closer. its all to soon when his movements still and he grabs your hand, prompting you to look at him, desperate and confused and endlessly frustrated.

"tell me what you were thinking 'bout when this afternoon." not a question, a statement. he wouldn't continue if you didn't answer him.

you're squirming now, against your will, shamelessly desperate but you weren't going to give him any satisfaction. you wouldn't let yourself. you try and steady yourself, coaxing all the faux confidence you could before teasing him just that little bit more. you lean forward, as he did before. grazing your nipples on his chest and your lips on his earlobe, you could see he was hard now and you planned to use it.

"thinking about the time Danny fucked me in this room" you weren't lying, Danny did use to come over when lando was away, but just to hang out. you'd divulge that part later.

you didn't miss the way lando eyebrows grew flat and his eyes darkened, hands suddenly gripping firmer on your skin as you looked up at him, coy as can be. you lean forward again, he almost stops you but you get far enough to tell him.

"was thinkin' about how big you are" that caused a reaction. praise. his eyes suddenly springing open.

"knew it" he retaliates almost laughing as he closes the gap once again, though this time moving onto the bed. as he pushes you on the bed he removes his boxers, the final fucking barrier between the both of you and you couldn't be more giddy as he goes to get on top of you and you push him so he's rolled over.

he's fucked you once. your turn.

you use his chest to steady yourself as you put both legs beside him, relishing in the way he looks at you. like there's nobody else, nothing else, just you and him. hes so warm, sweat sheening the skin on his chest and thighs, his hair is damp and he raises his head, one hand behind it to admire you. you graze one finger over his tip and his abdomen tenses and lets go, so fucking sensitive. he's biting his lip as you tease him a fair bit more, just enough, circling the tip, see it throbbing.

"wanna -hmph... tell me how big it is" its strangled and mocking and high-pitched and so fucking hot coming out of his mouth you can't do anything but oblige, so as you finally sink down onto his red, throbbing cock.

"so fucking big lan' " he lets out something actually audible at that comment but you're not entirely sure you hear it because it feels so fucking good, the stretch from this angle. you feel lando's hands come to your hips aiding you as he slowly bottoms out. he leans up to meet you when he bottoms out, you're in a trance, so overwhelmed with pleasure that you're sure lando is a god or something the way he moves your hips just fucking right that has you repeating his name like a mantra as he moves the both of you in perfect fucking unison.

"so fuckin' pretty"

"so fuckin' perfect"

"make me so fuckin' angry"

you smile at his comments, biting your lip, he knows his effect on you but you could always try to dampen it just a little more, but the comments don't help the noises that escape your mouth.

" 'm close " you say, between incoherent noises, he smiles against your neck and goes faster, impossibly faster, forcing you impossibly closer together. you clumsily move one of your hands to your clit and its perfect. he knows just how close you are, putting both his hands around you as you suddenly become weak as it rushes over you, jolting forward, head landing on his shoulder before he sloppily thrusts a few more times and hes coming hard and fast inside you and you're fucking perfect. everything is perfect, your hand is in his hair, holding it firmly, keeping you down to earth as you meet his eyes.

"fuck you" its breathless and completely futile as you play with the curls at the back of his head, melting in any kind of touch you're willing to give him. he laughs at you and you fucking love his smile.

"you just did" he said, incredibly proud of himself, leaning in afterwards littering your neck with kisses.

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transbunnyboi · 2 months

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Okokokokok I have to detail this because its still fresh in my brain and I don't wanna forget it so !!!! ALSO This is gonna be a long post sooo!!! So what happened was, we were talking about automatic pianos and he said had one and that he could show it to me because he had it in his apartment. So we go and THIS DUDE ACTUALLY HAS ONE I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A PLOY TO GET ME TO HIS PLACE BUT NO. So he shows it to me and we talk about that and other stuff for a while and he asks if I wanna stay over for a bit and watch something with him so I agree and we get on the couch and I'm a feral idiot and I asked "Oh so is this when you pretend to yawn so you can pull me in for a kiss?" and we. Ended up making out on his couch without even turning the TV on >//////<

He just tastes soooo so so so good aaaaa I'm blushing just thinking about him!!!! You guys already know how I am and how feral I've been recently so I actually was very uhmmmmm rough with him kinda slightly a little bit (I pushed him down and got on top of him while kissing him and he bit my lip and it bled anddhfgsgdfjhgf >/////< !!!!!) and he kept calling me a pretty boy and oughhhhhhh (btw he really likes the colour brown, everything in there was like being at a really old dude's place. OKAY. I will say this in the middle of describing sex. His place is kinda exactly how someone would expect a professor's house to be. Like. It's like looking up dark acidemia on Pinterest and selecting the first image to be your entire house 😭 he also has old Halloween decorations still up 😭 this dude) ANYWAYS So I, a WHORE, started begging him to fuck me and I ended up with my pants and underwear at my ankles and him on his knees without his shirt and he… wasn't very good at oral but that's alright because his tongue felt really really good inside of me and he kept saying I tasted good sdfhgjsdgjfhd, and when his jaw got tired he leaned his head against my thigh and started stretching my boycunt with his fingers and then after a bit of that he went back to sucking my tdick. And okay. Okay. This is the part I. omfg.

He pulled back again and looked up at me and there was blood all over his lips and I guess it turns out that he ?? accidentally cut me or scraped against me too hard or something with his nails (his fingers are so big) or something but I didn't feel it at all and so I got kinda embarrassed and I started apologising and this bitch goes "It's okay, I like the taste of blood." AND WENT BACK IN AND OH MY GODDD Eventually he stands up and I'm practically frothing at the mouth because I can see how hard he is in his pants and I'm praying that he'll fuck me because my boycunt is literally stretched and my thighs are spread open for him but he ends up sitting next to me and pulling me onto his lap (having me face away), and this bastard moved my hair slightly and started biting me and. I haven't mentioned the fact that I get VERY limp with love bites, my entire body gets really really weak because my neck is extremely sensitive and dhsgdjfhgdhfg

And he starts asking me random fucking questions and I can't even respond because of the fact that I can fucking hear him biting and sucking on my neck and I'm WHIMPERING and squirming so fucking much and he fucking laughs slightly and makes fun of me for not being able to talk and fucckhdfgjdhgsjhdgf After me begging for so fucking fucking long he finally fucking buried his fingers back into my boycunt and hsdfghgfhjdsgfh gOd it felt so good and he kept palming my poor tdick and I swear to god it made up for him not being great at giving head I swear it felt so fucking good. His fingers felt so so so good inside my wet boycunt and he kept asking me questions about stupid shit and I couldn't pay attention at all and it felt so so fucking good !!!!!!!

two of the things that stuck out to me were "Does it feel good, baby? You're soaking my hand so well right now." And (this one made me whine and buck my hips sooo so much oguhh), "You always talk so much. What happened, honey?" AND OUGHHH FUCK. I feel the need to emphasise that he's. Southern. That he has a heavy southern accent, and a low voice. When I say that he fucking growled that petname in my ear I mean it, he fucking growled it and went back to biting my neck oughhh fucccck.

My cunt felt so fucking good and he ended up making out with me again before making me cum. He literally made me feel so fucking good and ough my god.

I asked if he wanted me to reciprocate but he said he didn't need it and we kissed for a really long time afterward and talked. I'm still at his place right now. I feel. Weird??? Idk just pray that he has like. idk a really weird hobby or is an actual murderer or something because I???? Idk aaaaaaaaaaaaa

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dreamerdeity · 6 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑-𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀

*ೃ𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem. Reader

*ೃ𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.8k

*ೃ𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: You're at constant odds with your long-time academic rival Megumi Fushiguro. You swear up and down you hate his guts, and a lost bet on your part only further adds salt to the wound when you find out he's outranked you yet again. But when he finds you at a barren classroom after school, he offers you a different way to pay off what you owe.

*ೃ𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Hair-pulling, oral sex (m. receiving), face-fucking, mean-ish Megumi, cursing, choking, slight degrading kink. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, others, please proceed at your own risk!

*ೃ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Hi babes I'm finally back from the dead fr this time (i'm lying) and ready to finish up the kinktober series. I've been having a Megumi phase recently (i think a more accurate statement would be "jjk men phase") and just had to include him because the academic rival Megumi concept has been eating at my brain for months. Anywayssss, as always, please do not report my work! If you are uncomfortable, do not read.

⇄ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Stupid. Utterly stupid and almost comical is what this is, and a terrible way to end your last year of school at that. Especially after all the relentless hard work and sleepless nights you've put in, but you're thinking maybe, just maybe if you hadn't overplayed your hand so rashly, you wouldn't be stuck in this infuriating predicament right now, staring up at the big blue letters on the wall in silent mortification as throngs of students stride purposefully away from you, knowing not to agitate a ticking bomb during tragic times like these.

He beat you by a whisker, that damned Megumi Fushiguro, that's what you tell yourself. No, actually scratch that. He was bound to beat you and now you're reaping what you sowed, because just what were you thinking last week? Strutting over to the conceited dickhead and betting on the so called "guaranteed prospect" (your own words) of outranking him once finals season closed at last. Not so guaranteed now, it seems, as this stupid list hangs haphazardly taped onto the wall, glaring back at you like it had eyes of its own, almost like it's taunting you.

Number 4.

Your eyes dart indignantly over the chart, hoping your name would magically climb up to first and free you of an inevitable and very awkward (more likely than not, also heated) encounter with Megumi later. Megumi, who so conveniently happened to place not one, not two, but a whopping three places above you, and now it was only a matter of time before he joined the huddle of students by the wall with a chin so high and a face so smug it would make for the perfect punching bag. He'll probably clear his throat, side eye you with a stupid smirk, then proceed to finish what the list started, taunting and jibing at you some more.

Frankly, you don't even have the money you promised in the event that you lost the bet to him, because you were so certain you'd make it. I mean, you've done it before—countless times before—so why was this happening? Why did he have to—

Speak of the devil.

Much to your dismay, a familiar scent of orchid and freshly-brewed coffee faintly weaves its way into the air and saturates your surroundings out of the blue, one that preceded Megumi wherever he went, and at this point it has become almost distressing to catch a whiff of it. A scent that immediately ignited your fight-or-flight-response. You're not so sure how long you've been disassociating here, but Megumi has taken stand beside you, humming thoughtfully, not a word leaving his mouth as his eyes leisurely scan over the senior class ranking list, too leisurely almost, like he was fully expecting this. Talk about conceited.

You know he wants to break you, to silently chip at your confidence until you can't bear but say something unprovoked, because he loves, loves antagonizing you, seeing you get all worked up with a pout and a grip to his collar, though you've become progressively harder to irritate lately and he hasn't really been able to come to terms with it for some reason. Either because your ignoring him bruises his pride, or because—Actually no, that's the only reason, he thinks.

The oppressive silence on his part is almost suffocating, and you make a point of letting out a loud exasperated sigh, arms crossed, your eyes focused ahead and foot tapping against the rubber flooring, intent on standing your ground and not yielding to his patronizing stare. Megumi looks down at you from the corner of his eye, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek in an attempt to suppress the growing smirk that tugs at his lips, which fails terrifically and only further agitates you. There's a mutual and silent understanding between the two of you that the rankings on the wall spoke for themselves—as much as you hate to admit it.

"Would you fucking stop that?"

"Oh so you can see me." Asshole. He bites back as his lips finally break into the grin he's been holding in this whole time, full attention on you now that you've given him something to work with. "I didn't say anything though."

"You were eventually going to."

"I wasn't."

"Move."

This is the last thing you need at a time like this. Fuck grades, Fuck this. Fuck him. You're turning on your heel and brushing past him harshly, and had you been looking at Megumi, you'd have noticed that haughty exterior of his breaking ever so slightly, face falling, but he expertly regains his bearings in a beat, as the teasing nudges of his friends and his snickering fade behind your retreating figure. You maneuver through the crowded hallway and pray he'd have enough sense in him to leave you alone right now. Just this once. Just long enough for you to digest the bitter disappointment bubbling within you. Star student. You hated that term, and yet here you were sulking over someone else snatching the childish title away. Constantly holding yourself to such high standards that bordered on unrealistic rendered you academically insatiable, and there was only one other person who matched your fervor. Him, and fuck was it annoying, unsettling even.

"Hey, I still haven't had my fun yet. Where're you going?" Megumi trots through the students, the slight curl of his lips not faltering as he catches up to you with a little skip to his step. Of course he'd be giddy. Who wouldn't be after placing first out of the entire senior class—Placing above you?

"Fuck you, Megumi." You really, really don't need this right now, and you're spitting the words out venomously, picking up your pace and hoping to somehow out-speed him before he gets to speak his stupid mind.

He ignores your petulant front and carries on regardless, of course he does. When has he ever heeded your warnings, really? A sardonic grin is plastered across his face as he cocks his head to the side, snorting childishly at your sullen face. "Quit moping. I was gonna outrank you whether you liked it or not." The sing-songy lilt to his voice has you reaching for his collar, but he roughly swats your hand away, pretend-dusting off his shoulder as he continues in mock sympathy with slow, solemn nods to himself. "But man, I saw that calc grade of yours. A 75, was it? Must be tough."

Asshole, part two.

If passive-aggressive were a living, walking person, you're sure it would be him, lock, stock, and barrel. He's so unbothered about the whole situation too, and it's that toxic indifference that makes you feel as though you owe him some kind of response, that makes you grit your teeth in irritation, fist so ready to meet his jaw if it wasn't for your honorable reputation. You find yourself trying to come up with some bogus justification as to why you failed so miserably (in your eyes, that is), anything to save whatever face you've got left, because god knew he wasn't the only one with a massive ego around here.

"Have you got nothing better to do, huh? Always attached to my hip like you're obsessed with me or something. Get a fucking life." No justification leaves your mouth, just...whatever the hell that was, and you watch him narrowly as you lean against the doorframe of your next class, and his eye twitches. Right, he loves antagonizing you, but he just remembered how much he hates the part where you do it back.

"That's rich coming from you." Megumi gives you his signature customer service smile, the one you've come to see on him when you know he's practically seething underneath the surface. Fun.

"Ahh spike hair is mad."

"Mad about what? You're the one with a B in calc. A terrible rank too."

"You're justifying. You're mad."

"I'm not?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does it hurt your fragile ego when I point out a truth you can't deny?"

Man, he could really use a coffee right now; Caffeine-induced palpitations seem much more pleasant than these ones your big mouth with its noxious words are giving him, but he just stares down at you, silent, expression unreadable, features etched into something you can't quite understand, and you almost begin to feel small under his scrutiny, how he venomously chews you up and spits you out with his eyes alone.

A few long beats of unwavering eye contact and, "You're annoying as hell." He grunts out finally and slumps his shoulders a little, features falling back into their usual neutrality as he turns to walk away. A hypocrite, you think. I mean, he's been psychologically terrorizing you for the past four years—well, maybe that's a little too dramatic of a way to put it—but every time you bit right back at him, he'd get all sulky like some melodramatic kid who was denied ice cream. Well surprise, two can fucking play his game.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You think the day couldn't have gone any slower as you pack your belongings. You want to head back home immediately and have the longest nap of the year, but there's a distant voice in the back of your head that nags at you to do some calculus practice somewhere until the horde of departing students charging through the hallway dissipates. The crowded premises are not really why you find yourself hunching over the desk solving math problems at some empty classroom you've never been inside before though, and you know that.

Much to your chagrin, you let Megumi's passing comments get to you—for the hundredth time probably, but who's counting? There's not much you can do to fix that abomination of a grade on your calc final, but what you can do is put in work to make sure it never happens again, to make sure you beat him next time, and so you labor away. Unrelenting focus blocks out the noise of thudding backpacks and empty chatter for what doesn't feel like long at all. It takes one raise of your head toward the window for you to see that you've royally lost track of time, the amalgam of pinks and oranges swirling above the clouds and painting the classroom in soft, warm sheens of amber.

You lean your arms over the desk, burying your face in between them with a satisfied exhale, you've made progress. You can tell. Great, that's great—

Never mind, this isn't great; A muffled racket somewhere in the hallway seeps lightly through the cracked door and scatters your train of thought. Megumi and his clique have probably just left debate club, you think. The clacking of boots against rubber draws closer, and you recognize the footsteps. Is it weird that you can recognize the rhythm of his footsteps.

Definitely weird, yeah. Or maybe it's survival instincts.

"Look who it is." Megumi lightly kicks the door open, very unceremoniously, hands stuffed in his pockets as he saunters inside, absently rolling a taffy around his mouth.

Here we go again."What?"

He shrugs, "Last time I checked this was public property. Do I need permission to be within your vicinity or somethin'?" He slowly strides toward the back of the class where you're seated, eyes narrowing a little in amusement as he halts in front of your desk and leans down to your eye-level. "Besides, don't you owe me a couple hundred?"

Right, the bet...

"So you're here for the money."

"Mhm."

"Well I don't have it. I'll get it tomorrow, so you're free to leave. Also, it's kind of embarrassing of you coming in here to beg for a couple hundred yen."

"Huh..." He exhales softly, still chewing on that taffy that seems to never melt away and standing back upright. He's watching you from head to toe, silently—again. He fucking does that a lot. And you're pretty vexed at his lack of reaction toward your jab, scoffing in annoyance and rising from your seat, mirroring his eyes with a scrutinizing glare of your own.

"Yeah, you're right." He finally says, and it takes you a moment to process the impossible declaration. Did he just agree with you? Where's the silver lining? There's got to be one somewhere, right?

"What do you mean?"

"Y'know... I was thinking," Megumi trails off under his breath as he rounds the table slowly, hands still stuffed in the warmth of his tailored pockets. His gaze is searing, predatory almost, like he could pounce on you at any given moment and do to you whatever he pleased—whatever that may be—with no witnesses to lend their testament, no saviors and no teachers to reprimand him for his tactics. He doesn't elaborate on what he said yet, stepping forward once, twice, thrice, as you step back in response. Until you're practically cornered against the wall. "We could forget about the money. I've got a different prize for me in mind."

Ah, there it is. The silver lining.

His ambiguous words stir something hot within you. Dread, yes, but also something else you'd rather not think about, because this is fucking weird. It's weird how your thoughts immediately drifted there. It's weird how whatever snide remark you wished to spew at him was swallowed back in apprehension. And it's weird how your heart stuttered so bad against your chest at his proximity.

"Cat got your tongue?" Megumi tilts his head to the side. He's so close, so close you can smell the caramel on his breath, see the lone freckle dusting the bridge of his nose.

You're shaking yourself out of the momentary stupor and raising your chin in defiance. "That still doesn't explain what you mean."

"I mean..." His voice dips lower, as if afraid of breaking the tension that's weaved itself around the two of you. He doesn't finish, only plucking his hands out of his pockets and bringing one to languidly trace along your jaw, slowly, softly, out of character. You're frozen in your spot, looking up at him with quizzical features and an unbearable heat where his fingers brush against your skin.

Megumi wasn't so sure when the distant but awfully persistent voice in his head took over his reason, but what he was very sure about was what he's about to do next. His hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting his head to the side and leaning dangerously close. His breath is fanning over your jaw, and he nudges it with his nose, then trailing back up until his lips are hovering over yours again, and he waits. Unmoving, lingering, and well, fuck it. Fuck this. You don't resist, you don't push him away, you let him, pressing your lips to his as roughly as he does his to yours, briefly savoring the sweet taste of taffy that seeps against your mouth.

"Mmph..." Megumi groans all muffled and almost desperate if it wasn't for the rough grip he had to the nape of your neck, forcibly slipping his tongue into your mouth with no warning, no care as to whether you want him to or not, because you were his prize after all. Not the other way around. His hands fall to roam over your body, toying with your clothed breasts and squeezing harder over them when he hears your initial yelp of surprise dissipate down to a whimper.

How perfect your lips felt against his, how pretty you looked all flushed and disoriented. Right, pretty. Why had he never taken the time to absorb your features before? Carve them into his mind like a sculptor enamored by the dents and ridges of his stone? He was stuck in a loop of competitive attitude and haughty remarks, ego so high up it clouded all else that swirled in his mind. He doesn’t voice any of these thoughts, or more so refuses to do so. He was extremely reticent about this sort of thing. About everything, really, because admitting to them out loud will make you the winner in this situation. He doesn’t want that. He never does. He’s got to stay on top, in more ways than one, come to think of it right now, so he pulls away, panting lightly, lips still hovering over yours as he hisses against them. "Get down."

...?

The brazen request hangs in the air for a moment, nothing but the faded buzzing of the air conditioner reverberating throughout the classroom.

"W-what?" You stare at him blankly, registering, an oppressive silence engulfing the two of you. You don't think you heard that right, or, put a little more accurately, you didn't want to think you heard that right. You know exactly just what he means, yet you can't help the way your eyes widen and your brow furrows at the implication of his very straightforward order, because frankly you thought he just wanted to make out, but damn it he wants more.

"'Said get down." He repeats. Simply. Like his request was the most obvious thing in the world with the way he shrugs at you so nonchalantly, eyeing you down like you were stupid to think he wasn't going to push further. So entitled, and it almost offends you. Almost.

You scoff bitterly, shaking your head at him incredulously as your eyes bore into his, neither of you faltering in the slightest as you engage in some sort of staring contest, some wordless battle of attrition to make the other yield compliantly. You stare up at him. He stares down at you for what feels like hours, quirks an eyebrow when you don't budge, and just as he's about to open his mouth and say something that'll irritate you even more, you plop down to your knees with a disgruntled sigh.

To say Megumi was surprised would be an understatement. I mean, he tried, like really tried to act unbothered by your pliant gesture, to compose himself a little better, but fuck did the sight of you on your knees for him make him hard. He can't help the pink that creeps up his cheeks when you look up at him, sniggering at the disoriented look on his face. So fucking embarrassing, he thinks, and turns away with a click of his tongue, the back of his hand lathered over the lower half of his face.

" 'Fuck are you looking at?" He snaps at you a little too defensively, hoping the faux irritation laced into his voice was convincing enough.

"Isn't this what you wanted? What else am I supposed to look at?" You cock your head with an innocent grin (malicious would be a better term, he knew you better than anybody around here after all), only adding salt to the wound.

"You're annoying as hell."

"Yeah, you've said that only like a million times but you're fucking worse." You bite back as you always do, but this time you earn a hard tug to the back of your hair from Megumi. Grip unfaltering, he yanks it upward and leans down toward your face. It startles you, the sudden change in dynamic. "Fuckin' hate when you talk back to me. Gonna shut you up."

You know better than to argue with that, folding your hands in your lap, watching him hook his thumb under the hem of his pants and glide it left to right and back again, other hand still interlaced in your hair. It's uncharacteristic of you, to let him order you around like this, you never let him order you around like this. You've always been the one to abuse your power and tug him by his collar every time he annoyed you, because despite his horrible personality, you knew he'd never raise a hand to a woman. But this? Fuck, you're almost scared to say or do the wrong thing with the way he's glaring freshly sharpened daggers at you, and he notices, he basks in the power trip, he smiles so mean, takes his sweet time unbuckling his belt above you with clanks that echo through the deafening silence of a barren school after sunset.

His belt comes undone, revealing the bulge that strains against his boxers, and at the realization of what you're inevitably about to do, your eyes flit nervously toward the door. A passing thought really, but a thought nonetheless; What if somebody were to walk in right now, to see the ever so cordial, diligent you on her knees for a man she swore up and down she hated? What if—

"You scared?" A taunting lilt to his voice, it's as though he read your mind. Megumi peeks down at you and loosens his grip on the back of your head, pushing it toward him and bringing your face closer to where he wants you most, completely relaxed with not a hint of anxiety in his demeanor.

"Like hell I am." Fuck does he think he is? No, you're not scared, not when he sucks in a breath as your hand comes up to palm at his clothed erection. You're watching him intently, unrelenting gaze scorching through him and scanning his face for even the slightest change in expression. He maintains the eye contact and waits, looks down at where your hand toys with his cock over his boxers, waits for a few long beats to see what you'll do next. You know what he wants, and yet you're not giving it to him. He's not a patient man, shouldn't you know that already? Because just as you're about to say something about making him work for it, he's scoffing loudly, swatting your hand away and retaking the reins.

"This is why I can't let you have shit your way." Megumi pulls his cock out in one swift motion, giving it a few experimental pumps right against your face, barely an inch away and so close you can feel his leaking tip haphazardly poke against your cheek a few times.

"When do you ever?" You mumble bitterly as you meet his eyes. He doesn't return your gaze, not sure if he even heard you, all hazy, pretty eyelashes fluttering down and breath going uneven already as he thumbs his tip and lathers it in precum.

"Okay, open up." He demands a little too breathlessly, and the shake of his voice betrays him as he taps the head of his cock against your lips in coaxing. You're inclined to play stubborn for at least a little while, only for him to shoot you a warning glare that has you reeling back a little, accepting your fate and opening up for him, sticking your tongue out. He pushes past your lips in one smooth motion, giving you no time to adjust to his length, to the tip that hits the back of your throat immediately, and your throat instinctively tightens around him, a muffled gasp escaping you as you claw at his thighs, choking so fucking prettily around his cock already. The sight has Megumi's heart stuttering, and he feels himself twitch in your mouth from the sound you just made alone.

"Haven't even started moving and you're already going stupid. Stay still, will you?" He reaches down to grab either side of your head and pulls out just enough for you to breathe momentarily, before slamming back into your mouth.

"F-fuck..." He grunts softly at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth engulfing him in full, and he begins to move. In and out, nice and steady. His pace starts out languid almost, and you're not sure if it was out of sensibility toward you or out of his own desire to prolong this as much as possible, too afraid to cum already.

"Gonna go faster—" At least he's considerate enough to tell you, the barer minimum really, but you're too dazed to be offended, nodding your head in encouragement as your hand slides under his shirt, brushing against his stomach and feeling it faintly tense at your touch. You keep your throat relaxed, loose and ready to take him in deeper. The grip on your hair tightens and he picks up his pace to the hilt, thrusting rough and hard into your mouth, desperate, almost pistoning into you, so aggressive with it that tears begin to coat your lash line, drool and precum dribbling down your chin in strings every time he pulls out just to slam right back in.

"Not so—fuck—Not so chatty now, are you?" He grunts out through labored pants, almost sneering down at you with a twitch of his lips, emphasizing his question with a particularly forceful thrust that almost has your head hitting the wall behind you, because if he didn't do that, he knows you'll try to run your mouth all over again, so he shuts you up before you even could, braces himself with a hand on the wall to quell the stutter of his hips and glances down at your teary eyes, your tousled hair, your flushed up cheeks. You're all fucked up. All fucked up just for him, and all docile just for him. When was the last time he's seen you this compliant? Never, honestly—Not toward him, at least. Letting him use you like this to his heart's content? Well boy is he going to exploit the hell out of this newfound power he holds over you.

"Sh-shit...Look at you. What would Gojo-Sensei think if he saw you getting your mouth fucked like a slut? Huh? By me outta everyone." You want to argue, spit some venom in his direction and tell him to drop it. He's rubbing it in your face, this whole thing, and you're fucking mad, helpless. You're digging your nails into his thigh in silent retaliation, and he groans at the burning crescents you etch into his flesh, shakily cursing under his breath. The sounds spilling past his lips are strained and obscene, mingling with the squelch of his wet cock and slapping of his balls against your chin.

The blend of pain and pleasure has Megumi's mind blanking in an instant, all kinds of sensations melding into one and rushing over him like a storm. He's teetering on the edge of release, you can feel it by the way his hips begin to buck erratically into your mouth, thrusts getting sloppier, frenzied, grip on your hair taut and burning. "F-fuck—want it so bad... gonna c-cum. You're gonna take it all—"

You watch his face scrunch up in pleasure as he babbles on, cheeks a pretty, deep pink, raven bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead and grip so tense in your hair that veins bulge along his forearms in spots you've never seen them do before. To think you're the one reducing him into this shaky mess of a man.

"C-cumming—hahh" He warns in passing, and before you know it, you're coughing around him, gagging on his cock as his lashes flutter down to meet your eyes, lips parted, a string of broken whines and choked up groans escaping him, thighs trembling as his knees threaten to buckle above you. "Yes—fuckfuck...f-fuck." He's depleting all that is left of his self-control to stay upright, thrusting rough and shooting a thick, hot rope of cum down your throat, but it's so fucking much that despite doing your best to take it all, some spills past the corners of your lips.

He slows down, pulling his cock out of your mouth, eyes fixated on the string of fluids that connects your lips to his tip like a thin bridge, and you take the deepest breath of your life yet.

"Not too shabby." He quips after catching his breath for a moment.

Now he was just asking for it. "Seriously? That's what you're gonna say after busting up a torrent in like 15 minutes?"

He shakes his head and motions toward the corner of your mouth with a languid smirk, ignoring your loaded comment to save himself the embarrassment. "You got something on your mouth over there. Why don't you lick it away?"

"Don't push it."

"Please."

"No."

"Idiot." Megumi pouts a little, sighing as he turns to tuck himself back into his pants and look presentable, gesturing for you to do the same. You're kind of dazed still, but you take heed and clean yourself up before grabbing your things and making for the door, halting just short of it when you feel Megumi grab your wrist.

"It's getting a little dark. I'll walk you home?" There's a finality in the way he looks at you, your wrist still snug in his grasp.

"I thought I was an idiot."

"Don't worry. You're the smartest idiot I know."

@venusinx

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #𝕂𝔼𝕀ℝ𝔸'𝕊 𝕂𝕀ℕ𝕂𝕋𝕆𝔹𝔼ℝ

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bby-deerling · 6 months

Text

birthday cake (zoro x fem!reader)

more zoro fluff, i'm on a roll lately. recently discovered i share a birthday with brook (even though it's currently ages away), and got this silly little idea. wc 1k, zoro bullies sanji. same reader as my other zoro x reader fics!

Though it may not appear so to an outside observer, Zoro hangs onto every word you have ever said, absorbing them all like a sponge. It scared him at first, worrying he was getting distracted from his training, but over time he figured that singularly focusing on swordsmanship left him with a lot of empty space in his head to fill. The things you tell him; your poetic musings, all the technical aspects of the paintings you create, your darkest fears, and your eclectic range of knowledge about almost any topic all get filed away in the back of his brain.

His crew often found themselves flabbergasted when Zoro pulled this information to the forefront. When Chopper wonders aloud how lasers work, he grabs a napkin and sketches diagrams to accompany his explanation that was at least eighty-percent correct. When Robin comments on the ever developing impressionistic style of your pieces, she is quite amused that he has quite a lot to say about your brushwork as of late, going so far as to compare the way you hold your brush to his grip on his swords; you had stopped choking up so far on your brush at his suggestion to help increase the fluidity of your marks and seen a large amount of improvement in your work as a result. During the two years he spent on Kuraigana, he drove Perona up a wall whenever he caught her reading a book he recognized and gave her his very strong opinions on the characters that were entirely based on a brief synopsis you had given him.

That’s why it makes him absolutely crazy when he realizes the stupid, shitty cook has forgotten your birthday, one of the most basic, mundane things about you.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Zoro had asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

“Nothing too far out of the ordinary. I suppose I’ll make a cake despite the fact that Brook can’t really taste it; I know Luffy will want to throw a big party—” Sanji began, before being cut off.

“Moron. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Zoro asks, voice dropping and laced with venom.

Sanji goes pale white with the realization that you shared a birthday with Brook—he had bought you a gift ages ago and forgotten about it, the exact date vaporizing into thin air.

“I can’t believe you forgot it’s her birthday too, especially after all the nonsense she did for yours last month. I told her it wasn’t worth it, but she insisted anyways.” Zoro hisses, jaw clenched.

Sanji ignores Zoro’s hostility and begins flipping through recipes, deciding on an elaborate, three tier sponge cake with strawberry flavored icing.

“She doesn’t want that.” Zoro said, staring over his shoulder.

“Remind me what your job is here again, moss-head?” the cook asks, cigarette in his mouth snapping as he bites down on it in frustration.

Zoro goes to the cabinet that harbors his liquor stash and pulls out a small cardboard box he had bought at the last island. “This is what she wants. Do you have the special pan for it?”

Sanji examines the box of angel food cake mix and sighs. “I’m not feeding her cake mix for her birthday, moss-head. I’ll make one from scratch.” he says, swearing under his breath when he realized how much of a dent it was going to put into the ship’s supply of eggs due to the sheer amount of egg whites required.

“She wants the box mix. It’s what she grew up having. If you won’t make it I will.” Zoro insists, pushing the box back towards the cook. “You know those cookies she likes from that bakery on her home island? With tons of sugar piled on top?”

Sanji nods. “I’ve been there. Zeff and I stole the recipe years ago. It’s really just a basic sugar cookie—"

“They have to be in the shapes of lambs.” Zoro said. Sanji desperately searches the moss-head’s face for any sign of him not being serious, but he turns up empty.

“Where the hell am I going to get a cookie cutter shaped like a lamb in the middle of the ocean?” Sanji snaps, secretly grateful for Zoro’s assistance but nonetheless vexed by his the swordsman’s demanding tone.

“Dunno, but you better figure it out soon.” Zoro says with a shrug, thoroughly enjoying the emotional turmoil that this entire situation was causing Sanji. “Ask Usopp or Franky to make one for you, though who knows if they’re willing at this hour.” Sanji clenches his jaw and nods and picks up a napkin that Zoro has scribbled a rough sketch on, making a mental note to bring it to Usopp later.

As Zoro turns to walk out of the kitchen, Sanji can’t help but throw him one last remark, despite not being in the position to do so.

“I’m surprised you remembered all this, moss-head. I thought all that was between your ears was empty space and ear wax.” he says, not looking up from his recipe book.

“You’re surprised I pay attention when she talks?” Zoro asks incredulously. Sanji sighs, knowing he practically walked into that one, and prepares for another verbal lash.

“I hope I don’t have to tell you her favorite meals too. Honestly, I don’t even see why we keep you around when you can’t even get this right without my help. Stuff like this is why Nami doesn’t give you the time of day, besides being an idiot pervert and all—”

“Out of the kitchen now, moss for brains.” Sanji snaps, shoving his boot into his back and kicking him towards the exit. Before he closes the door, Zoro pokes his head through the opening.

“No frosting.” he says. “Don’t forget.”

“None at all? You’re certain?” Sanji asks incredulously. Zoro nods affirmatively and slams the door to the kitchen, finally giving the cook some peace and quiet, fingers rubbing his temples to get rid of the headache that the swordsman had given him.

The next day, your shared birthday party with Brook in the Sunny's kitchen is the most memorable you’ve ever had, and you’re nothing short of amazed when Sanji pulls out cake and cookies identical to the kind your mother always served you.

The wonder in your eyes at how Sanji was able to replicate the desserts dissipates and is replaced by appreciation and understanding when Zoro grins at you and squeezes your thigh under the table, a silent admission that he'd helped the cook put everything together.

No wonder everything turned out so perfect; how could it not when he pays so much attention to what you need?

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #i feel a lil bit sorry for sanji in this lol #i love writing them arguing

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khuzena · 6 months

Text

12:59

| Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

summary: everyone in life comes and goes, but sometimes he wishes you stayed; but it's too big of a request to ask.

Warning: toxic rs,no happy ending, cry bitches. Angst, Angst, Angst. (Cheating again because this man is the reddest, crimson flag ever)

A/n: was writing this in school, no activities for the entire day so i was writing this. (This is so cringe oh my god i swear I'll write fluff next time what character do you guys want as long as it aint barou because idk how to write him..)

It sometimes gets too hard to breathe at night.

There are times where he'd find solace in your embrace, you've made home in his heart and you know.

The cupid to your psyche, the romeo to his juliet. So tempting yet so dangerous.

Trust, such a simple thing yet so hard to keep and attain. Something he's won from you years ago yet he lost instantly.

A prodigy as he, the loyal man he used to be.

Rainy days like these you'd find yourself in his well-sculpted arms, inhaling his scent and his kisses marking you his.

Two weeks before the fallout, he's been a distant man, eyes filled with disdain for you and you don't know why. Just a month ago there were flowers on your doorstep, a genuine compliment through text and light kisses pressed on your forehead here and there.

Though recently, he's been looking at you with such hate in his eyes, like you ruined his life— like you're the reason you brought pain and suffering in his world. Why?

There you were, sitting at the marble kitchen island and eating some fresh fruits while watching a boring show on your phone.

Kaiser walked past you as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge, not even sparing you a single glance.

"Hey, love." You said smiling, nervously fidgeting your fingers under the table.

Kaiser rolled his eyes before looking at you with such disgust. Was your hair really that unkempt? Did your acne come back again? Was he no longer attracted to you? Or was it because he's found someone else. You don't know but these questions spiral in your brain, wondering, asking where you went wrong.

"Hey." He replied, the irritation in his voice was too obvious.

"Can we talk?"

If anyone could see you right now they would compare you to a homeless man asking for scraps or spare change. But at least a hobo has more dignity than you.

Like a broke man begging for money and food to survive, you're pleading, throwing away all your dignity— if you even had any left; begging for a tiny speck of his attention. Some answer, some closure for why he's been treating you like this.

"I don't have time for that and you know it, I have a game again next week in france. Let's talk next time when I have the time"

Confusion and anger boiling in you at this point, what do you mean he has no time for a simple conversation? When he has all the time in the world to do stupid shit without you when he's actually free.

"What the fuck? You barely have any fucking time for me."

He stared down at you with a blanm expression, it was irritating how he wasn't even taking you seriously.

He didn't say a word before walking away to the comfort of his room.

A week later he came home.

It was 12:59 am.

A knock on your door disturbed the peace in the living room, you made your way to the main door. Sighing with relief that it was him, that he got home safely from whatever team party he attended.

"'M sorry…"

Your eyes widened, the moment you opened the door he lunged himself at you; his grip as he hugged you not loosening.

"What happened to you, micha?..."

The smell of alcohol getting on you, the red lipstick stains on his blouse and how pathetically dishevelled that man was.

The sight took your ability to speak away for a moment. You've never expected this, he told you earlier that he'd just be drinking with his team but to go as far as this?

"Don't touch me."

Kaiser tightened his grip, the shame on his face says it all. He's never cried this hard before as his tears soaked your shirt, "Liebling.."

"I said go away." Venom dripped from your voice, causing him to flinch in his very drunk state.

A loud thud can be heard throughout the house as he fell on his knees, like the shameless bastard he is, he cried, "I still love you", "I won't do it again I promise", "You're everything, please, schatz"

The next day, he was lying on the couch. His bags being too dark one could mistake him for a panda.

Even though his stomach is growling loudly, vomit bubbling in his throat or face dried with tears he couldn't help but just wail.

Hands trembling as he looked to the alarm clock to his left, 12:59 pm. Kaiser's legs wobbled as he checked every room, looking for a sign you were there but no.

"Liebling! Please, please. Where are you?"

His voice echoed in the walls of his apartment but there was no one who answered back.

Kaiser's lost you and it's all his fault yet he wailed pathetically on the floor, holding on to the railings of his stairs like someone took you away from him.

As time passed by, he's lost count of the days he's skipped training. His hunger being his least concern even though he barely eats nowadays as he spends most of his time staring at the ceiling.

Wishing for a miracle, wishing that god hears his prayer for one last time.

In this time of deep depression his spotify playlist has become his friend, his pillow being the tissue for his tears and the sheets crumpled from his thrashing around the bed.

kaiser: please come abck

kaiser: back***

kaiser: please

kaiser: i love you

kaiser: liebling

kaiser: liebling lets talk

kaiser: please.

*seen*

It's hopeless.

No matter how many times he blew up your phone with calls and texts you never answered. Though you never even blocked him too.

It was that time again, he called you again. Screen stained with tears as his eyes sparkled with hope when you finally picked up.

"Liebling, im sorry, im sorry."

The call was still on but he could only hear your heavy breathing, his breath hitched as he shakily held his phone to his ear.

"I know my sorrys won't change anything, but I still love you."

"I can't live without you"

"You're my everything."

"Please."

Please.

Still not a single word from you, he plopped down on his bed as he stared into nothing again in his empty room.

"Michael, stop."

He clutched his phone to his chest as he sobbed quietly, making sure you didn't hear him.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Stop apologising, Michael," you let out a sigh, "let's break up"

"Yeah, sure. Good night"

The call ended right then and there.

Kaiser kept replaying your voicemails over and over again. His nerves calmed down for a bit until the reality set in, he'd never hear your voice again.

There will no longer be any you standing outside the door with your arms wide open to congratulate him on his win or a lover he'd call his. The person he vowed to love and protect forever, gone.

And it's all his fault.

For one last time, he checked his phone as he saw a notification on his lock screen. The bright light almost blinded him.

love: i know you're still awake

love: go to sleep

*sent 12:59 am*

He sighed, putting away his phone and staring at the clock.

"Yeah, maybe it is getting late"

Note: we js had a halloween party 2 days ago, cosplayed as krul, had so much fun. °^°>🍦. I'll stop writing for kaiser i swear im js obsessed w him :((( (this fic not proofread m sorryyy)

#blue lock fanfic #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk angst #blue lock ansgt #blue lock fluff #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser fluff #kaiser angst

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luvrboydave · 6 months

Text

Please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!

pairing: ghostface!kirk hammett x fem!reader

warnings: somewhat dark content, stalking, creep!kirk, panty stealing, knives, blood, violence, little bit of a breeding kink, sadism maybe (?), degradation, name calling (slut, whore), pet names (doll), possibly ooc kirk

words: 3.1k

a/n: i did not proof read this so if there are mistakes that's totally on me LMAO i hope you all enjoy bc this was my first time writing anything like this (it ended up being a little less ghostface centered bc my brain went on autopilot)

By the time he has you checked out, it’s a few minutes past closing. He sees you to the door, holding it open for you like the gentleman he is. As you’re leaving, Kirk calls out to you, that sickly sweet smile on his face, “Be safe. It’s dangerous for girls like you to walk the streets at night.”

Kirk first notices you when you strut into the movie rental store a few minutes before closing. You look entirely lost, eyes scanning the store hurriedly. When he walks over to you, he swears that he’s just doing his job, being a good employee and helping out lost customers. But deep down, he knows he’s lying to himself. He puts on that bright smile he hates so much and asks what you’re looking for in his nicest voice. When you tell him you’re looking for Friday the 13th, Kirk knows he has to have you.

Your cautiousness makes it way harder for Kirk to follow behind you. In retrospect, maybe telling you the streets aren’t safe wasn’t the best idea if he wanted to stalk you back to your house, but he’d just have to deal with it. When you look over your shoulder, you see a flit of darkness from the corner of your eye, choosing to brush it off as the shadow of an animal. You speed up slightly, just wanting to get home and watch the movie as quickly as possible. Kirk continues to follow you, dipping back into the shadows when you check over your shoulder.

His words make you feel uneasy. You’d heard that there have been rumors of a so-called ghostface copycat killer on the loose. Some unstable dumbass killing people with that stupid mask on after watching Scream. You’re extra cautious on your way home, checking over your shoulder occasionally to make sure you’re not being followed.

Eventually, you make it to your house, breathing a loud sigh as you finally unlock your door. You step inside, slipping your shoes off and turning the lock behind you before heading towards the living room. You set the VHS on the coffee table and walk to the kitchen, preparing something to eat during the movie. You head back to the living room, sliding the VHS into the player and plopping down on the couch.

Kirk watches you closely through the window to your left. He studies your reactions to the movie, how you jump when a loud noise plays or how you grimace and squirm at the gore; he finds you fascinating. He watches you for the entire duration of the movie, only leaving after watching you get undressed for bed. He leaves your house that night with a painfully hard dick and a plan to have you all for himself.

–

Kirk continues to watch you for at least another week; he’s practically memorized your schedule by now. He knows that recently, it’s become your habit to come into the rental store to rent a new horror movie every night, which is very convenient for him. He can follow you home and observe you as soon as he closes the shop, and on his days off, he can sneak into your bedroom window while you’re away and rummage through your underwear drawer, maybe even take a pair home for his nasty fantasies and return them the next day soiled with his cum. Kirk knows it’s disgusting, but that’s exactly why he enjoys it so much; the thought of you wearing a pair he’s soiled and not even realizing it gets him so worked up.

Kirk smiles to himself as he’s shelving tapes. Tonight, he would execute his master plan. Glancing at the clock, he sets things into motion—11:50 p.m. Right on time, you walk through the door, your previous rental in hand. Kirk nods his head to you in acknowledgement as you drop your tape into the return bin. He eyes you as you head to the horror section to peruse the available films before returning his attention to his task.

“Excuse me, Sir?” You squeak, standing behind Kirk. He whips around to face you, smiling and greeting you, “How may I help you?”

Kirk takes a moment to think; it’d be pretty ironic if he picked Scream for you. You watch his smile widen as he says, “Why don’t you just rent ‘em both?”

“Well, I’m a very indecisive person…so I was just wondering if you could help me decide which movie to rent.” You mumble quickly, holding up Scream and A Nightmare on Elm Street.

You shrug. “That’s my limit. I need to save as much money as possible, y’know.”

He puts his hand on your arm, and you tense up.

“How about I rent Elm Street for you…I’ll let you take it home if you promise to return it by tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen, and you smile at him. “Really? I swear I’ll have it back by this time tomorrow!”

He chuckles at your words, and his hand slips from your arm to your lower back. He guides you up to the counter, hand lingering for a bit too long on your body as he moves to check your rentals out. You think nothing of it, brushing it off as him being friendly.

He sees you to the door again, waving to you and shouting, “Have a good night, stay safe…” before closing the doors and locking up.

–

When the person on the other end replies, your stomach drops. His voice is gravelly, very obviously altered with a voice changer.

You’re almost an hour into Scream when the landline rings. You get up from the couch, stopping the tape before answering the phone, “Hello?”

“Who is this?”

You barely think before answering him, “Is this some sort of sick joke? It’s not very funny.”

“I assure you, this is very real…but you’ve got it all wrong in that pretty little head of yours. I just wanna talk...” he pouts on the other end.

“I don’t care. Bye now.” You state, putting the phone back on the hook and breathing a loud sigh.

As soon as you sit down and prepare to continue the movie, the phone rings again. You throw your head back and groan, standing up again to answer the call.

“Hello?” You hiss, annoyed that your movie time was interrupted by some dumbass playing a prank.

“Well, that wasn’t nice…” The man on the other line laughs, “I only said I wanted to talk.”

“Talk to someone else then.”

As you move to hang the phone up, you hear him growl, “Don’t you dare hang up on me, slut. I’ll slit your pretty little throat if you even think about it.”

Your words get caught in your throat, stunned at the switch from the once calm voice to the threatening one you hear now.

“Now, listen carefully, we’re gonna play a little game. Get one question wrong, and you’re dead, understand?”

You stand in shock, throat tightening painfully and tears beginning to well at the corners of your eyes.

“I said, do you understand? Yes or no.”

You nod, whimpering a soft “yes” through your tears.

You easily answer his first two questions, both about movies you’d already seen.

“That’s not fair! I haven’t finished watching the movie. There’s no way I’ll be able to answer this one correctly!”

“Good…now, who is the killer in Scream?” he asks, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“Too bad. You better start thinking of a good answer. Otherwise, it’s game over for you.”

Your brain is moving at a mile a minute, trying to recall every detail from the past hour of the movie that could point to who the killer might be. You remember the scene where the character Stu explains how to gut someone, which is quite suspicious. You take a shaky breath before answering, “Stu. The killer is Stu.”

“Sorry, doll…That’s incorrect. I guess that’s game over! The correct answer would’ve been Stu and Billy.”

“Wait, no! There was no way for me to get that one right! You tricked me!” You cry desperately, sinking to the floor and hiding beside the couch.

“Hmm…I guess that one was a bit unfair. Okay, how about this one: where am I?”

As he finishes the question, you hear your bedroom window being forced open and the stomp of heavy boots on your floor. In a panic, you drop the phone and quickly rush to the kitchen to grab anything you can to defend yourself. You grab a knife and duck behind the kitchen island, trying to steady your breath and be as quiet as possible. Holding the knife close to your chest, you peek around the island, catching a glimpse of a pair of black boots in the living room. Slowly, you begin crawling towards the hallway to your bedroom, thinking you could escape from the window he entered through.

Halfway down the hallway, the floor creaks as you take a step. You feel as if your heart is going to burst from your chest. The masked man’s head whips towards your direction, watching you as you scramble up from the floor, dropping the knife, bolting into the open bedroom door and slamming it behind you. Once in the room, you immediately run to the window but quickly realize that it’s closed. Curses fall from your lips as you search for an alternative, ultimately deciding to slide underneath your bed.

Your bedroom door creaks open, the man’s heavy boots sounding like thunder with each step he takes. You cover your mouth with your hand, eyes squeezing shut to keep yourself from letting tears spill down your face. You can hear him open the window again, and you assume he’s checking to make sure you didn’t get away. He moves from the window to the closet, throwing the door open and checking every inch for you.

Your heart is pounding as he circles the bed. And then suddenly, his footsteps stop. You wait a few seconds before doing your best to look over your shoulder in the cramped space. A scream escapes your throat when you see that goddamned mask looking at you all squished under the bed. You feel his hand grab onto your ankle, and before you can even start to react, he’s pulling you out from your hiding spot. Your hands grasp for something to hold onto, legs kicking frantically to try to escape his hold.

Your efforts are in vain as he easily pulls you from underneath the bed. You continue to struggle in his grasp, flailing around, trying to get him to let go. The man makes the mistake of not securing your hands first, allowing you to reach towards his mask and pull it from his head. Your Brows furrow in confusion as you take in the face of the unmasked man–the sweet movie rental boy named Kirk. He’s stunned for a second, not expecting you to be so bold, but quickly snaps out of it and reaches for his knife. He uses one hand to hold you down on the floor as the other presses the knife to your throat.

“I wasn’t planning on killing you before, doll…I was just havin’ a bit of fun.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “But now that you’ve seen my face, I’m afraid you’ve gotta go; I can't have you running around telling everyone my secret.”

“Please…” You whimper quietly, “I’ll do anything; please don’t kill me.”

“Those are dangerous words, slut. Are you sure you stand by them? You’ll do anything for me to spare your life?” His tone is sinister, and you see a dangerous glint in his eyes through your tears.

“Yes. I swear, anything you want.”

His grip slowly loosens on your neck, and he lightly slides the knife's tip down your neck.

“Good.” He smiles, standing up and grabbing a fistful of your hair, “Get on the bed.”

Kirk uses his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor and shoves you back onto the mattress. You watch him, eyes wide and scared as he stalks closer.

“Shirt off, now. Otherwise, I’ll take it off for you, and I promise you don’t want that.”

You pull the shirt over your head with shaky hands, immediately moving to cover your exposed tits out of embarrassment. Kirk growls and reaches forward to move your arms away from your chest.

“Hide yourself from me again, and I cut you, whore.”

Kirk continues making you undress until you're in only your pretty blue panties. When he sees the pair you decided to wear, that dangerous smile returns to his face, “Y’know…that’s one of the pairs I jerked off with.”

He says it so casually that you almost disregard it until you fully process what he said. You respond with a simple “Huh?”

“Yeah, I snuck in here and stole a pair to use almost every time you were gone.” He laughs, “You make it awfully easy for someone to break in…if I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to.”

Kirk unlaces his boots, slides them off, and then climbs onto the bed to hover over your body. His hand slips lower and lower, caressing down your plush body until he reaches your clothed cunt. Running two fingers over your pussy through your panties, Kirk chuckles, “You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re soaked for the man who threatened to kill you…fucking whore.”

You whine as he rubs at your cunt, hips lifting to chase his hand as he pulls it back.

“Look at that…” he teases, “My little doll is already desperate for me, and I’ve barely touched her.”

Kirk finds the knife again, sliding it up your leg slowly before finally letting it rest on your cunt. Your heart speeds up when you see the knife so close to you. He drags it to your hip, slipping it under the waistband of your underwear and slicing through it, mirroring his actions on the opposite side as well. He pulls the ruined fabric away from your sopping cunt, leaving you entirely bare under him.

In an instant, the blade of the knife is pressed to your throat again. He slips a finger into your cunt, fucking it into you painfully slow.

“Better not move too much. We wouldn’t want that pretty throat of yours slit open, would we?”

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, scared that any slight movement of your throat will get you cut. When your hip bucks up into his hand again, you feel a sting where the knife is pressing into your skin. “Whoops!” He exclaims in fake surprise, “Guess I got a little carried away…” Kirk brings the knife away from your neck and up to his lips, tongue darting out to clean your blood from the blade.

You’re absolutely sure he has a few screws loose, but you honestly couldn’t care less right now. You cry out as he adds another finger, stretching you open perfectly. Your hands grasp his hair, threading your fingers to find purchase in the curls. Your vision blurs as he speeds up, the coil in your stomach feeling like it could snap at any second. Kirk makes you cum faster with his fingers than anyone else has ever made you cum.

You moan loudly, body shaking and convulsing as you let go around his fingers. He helps you ride out your orgasm, thumb rubbing lightly at your clit, overstimming you ever so slightly. Kirk drops the knife to your side and begins lifting the black ghostface robe off of himself, revealing the Misfits shirt he wore earlier that night. He unzips his jeans and pulls his boxers down just enough for his dick to bob out.

‘Can’t wait to slip into your tight and messy cunt, doll…so fuckin’ wet for me.” He growls, teasing the head of his cock against your sensitive clit. Kirk pushes your legs up to your chest, practically folding you in half, and uses one hand to keep you in place. His other hand rests on your throat, adding light pressure as he pushes his cock into your cunt. You grip the sheets as his cock stretches you open.

He’s relentless with his thrusts once he bottoms out, fucking into you like an animal. “Fuck, Kirk!” You cry, “So fuckin’ good, feels like you’re in my guts…”

He grips your throat tighter, and the cut from earlier begins to sting again. You can't tell if the tears falling from your eyes are from the pain or the pleasure at this point; all you know is that you don’t want Kirk to stop. The lack of oxygen makes your brain feel fuzzy, and you’re not sure what to pay attention to anymore. Everything feels so overwhelming.

“Mmh, shit…I can feel you tightening up on me.” Kirk groans, “If your pussy keeps hugging me like this, I might just have to fuckin’ breed you, doll.”

Lost in the moment, all you can do is whine his name as he fucks into you faster, lewd sounds of skin against skin echoing off the walls. He moves his hand from your throat, allowing you to catch your breath. The now free hand moves down to play with your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, pushing you closer and closer to your climax.

You see white as you cum around Kirk’s cock, low whines and loud moans falling from your lips. Kirk’s orgasm comes not long after yours, cock throbbing inside you as he empties his cum into your cunt. You expect him to pull out and leave as soon as he’s done, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. Instead, he picks the knife up again, hovering over your left tit. He brings the knife down and begins to carve something into your skin. It hurts like hell, and you tear up as he does it. He pulls back to examine his work after he’s finished, eyes scanning the marred flesh with pride. You look down, trying to see what he carved, only being able to make out the letters ‘K.H.’

Kirk pulls out from your cunt and watches as his cum spills from you with a sadistic smile. “Hope you’re on the pill, doll.” He mumbles as he tucks himself back into his boxers and zips his jeans. He puts his boots back on and grabs his knife and costume before going over to the window and opening it. As he’s climbing out, he looks back at you, who is on the verge of passing out on your bed.

“Thanks, doll…Keep it up like this, and I won’t have to kill you. See ya around.”

Kirk is gone in an instant, and you’re left alone on your bed, pussy filled with his cum and his initials carved into your tit.

tags: @ridethehammett

#kirk hammett smut #metallica smut #kirk hammett #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica

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hrts4hanniehae · 3 months

Text

clutch || eight

there are written parts :)

note that the timeline or educations may not add up but just ignore it because i don't have the brain power to sync up THIRTEEN + 1 's education schedules

sorry for the late chpt. I was really sick so i tried my best on this chpt. next chpt will be longer, i promise.

warnings: some level of chae-young attempting infidelity, swearing

wonwoo came home to find yn passed out on the couch.

"you okay?" - wonwoo

"i need sleep. i've been stuck at school finishing my final project and i just finished. now i have to worry about the stupid reunion in two days. i have no dress and i look like a zombie. life is great." - yn

"go take a shower. i'll get the guys to help you. jeonghan has connections." - wonwoo

the word shock wasn't enough to describe the look on everyone's faces when yn and wonwoo walked in through the door.

some background information: in the one week before this gathering, yn had completed her pieces for the museum, her final project for university and all her outstanding commissions. her exhibit had been very successful and she had earned quite a significant amount of money.

"yn. is that your boyfriend?" - aunt

"yes. this is jeon wonwoo, my boyfriend." - yn

"nice to meet you, my name is jeon wonwoo." - wonwoo

"yn-noona... isn't that the streamer gameboi? you're dating Korea's number 1 [game name] player?" - younger cousin

"no way..."

the whispers in the event room got louder and louder until the people she hated finally came towards her. it was evident that chae-young was gawking at wonwoo. she didn't even bother to hide her lovestruck expression from her husband.

"so this is the new guy you have, huh yn." - mother

"good morning, i'm jeon wonwoo." - wonwoo

it seemed like he had to repeat himself often today.

"what's your net worth?" a disrespectful question right off the bat was expected and both yn and wonwoo had prepared for it.

without missing a beat, wonwoo simply smiled and said, "14 million. I am sure that I have enough to take care of yn for the rest of our lives."

the jealousy that clouded chae-young's face was the best thing that yn had ever seen.

sitting at the table was very awkward because they were surrounded by whispers and glances.

“so wonwoo. what do you work as?” chae-young’s husband was actually a very nice man. he was always kind to yn and her brother and was the complete opposite of his distasteful wife.

“i’m a gamer. i’m currently in talks of joining [fictional korea no.1 pro gamer team]. that deal closes before june,” - wonwoo

“ah i see. what about you, yn? what are you working as now?” this question was on everyone’s mind. some with ulterior motives.

“up until thursday, i was a museum part-timer and finishing university. but i recently managed to sell many of my art pieces and have made quite a name for myself in the past three days. in case you all didn’t know, almost every artwork in this building was made by me over the last 4 years.” - yn

the room was silent. you could hear a pin drop and wonwoo couldn’t help but smile to himself.

let’s walk through the real train of events.

after the “fake-dating” agreement, wonwoo, minghao, mingyu and dokyeom had helped yn move every piece of her artworks over the years to minghao’s studio to sort through them. it took them almost 30 hours to categorise. by monday, they had organised the auction within the museum, an exhibition for her other works and an online bidding website for exclusive works. from tuesday to thursday, the auctions and exhibitions opened.

every one of yn’s artworks sold for incredibly high prices. this particular hotel that the family reunion was, had purchased a significant amount of said artworks.

“you mean you painted that painting of a phoenix?” - uncle

“i did that 2 years ago.” - yn

“and that ceramic heart? that was you?” - aunt

“yes.” - yn

wonwoo could not help but smile at yn’s nonchalent bragging. just then, a hand reached across to tap his.

“so~ wonwoo-oppa~ how did you and yn meet?" chae-young began to blatantly flirt with wonwoo while her HUSBAND sat helplessly beside her.

“i commissioned an art piece from her and fell in love at first sight.” wonwoo forcefully took back his hand before leaning closer to yn, earning a scowl from chae-young.

yn was’t exaggerating when she described all of chae-young’s antics.

here’s a list of the things she tried but failed to do. seduce wonwoo, yn’s “boyfriend”, spill water on yn, pretend that yn stepped on her foot on purpose, claim yn slapped her.

how embarrassing.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

main masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour @heesbees @hamji-hae @hyuckxtagram

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rosestarlightkatarina · 6 months

Text

The night.

Donna Beneviento x reader

This one is all about fluff and sleepy atmosphere

I hope you enjoy🖤🌙

No doubt today is a way too harsh on you. Everything is out of hand and it makes you feel even more exhausted. But the most frustrating thing is that you don’t have any chances to meet the doll maker, let alone a little talk to her. She acts more like a pretty ghost in a pretty old house and you try to copy this behavior. Expect Angie. The only one thing you have to do for being the reason of her laugh or anger is breathing. Even sleeping isn’t always a good cause for her to stop. You must be more creative than that. But you two seem to get along recently. It’s actually a miracle how you are still alive. Consider yourself lucky. However some horrible questions about their true intentions come to your head every night. And the only one person, who knows the answer, is ignoring your existence, preferring the company of her own. Except Angie, of course. When the sun hides behind the waterfall, the owner of the manor comes from somewhere, takes her continuously chatting feral creature and disappears. You can swear she has some teleportation skills. For one moment you could say she was an illusion or a fever dream of yours. But there was always Angie with her bites to make you deny these thoughts swiftly. Still your various assumptions are never gone. This night does not differ from the others. Eyes are shut but mind is overwhelmed. Thus, after some useless attempts to fall asleep, you find yourself wandering around the empty house until you see the dim light coming from the slightly open door. The curiosity wins so you have no choice but come a little closer on your tiptoes. Behind the crack there is your lady, painting a little porcelain face, all alone. Just her and soft sound of creating a new friend. Something about this view makes you stay, watching her work quietly. That’s impolite to stare you think when it’s too late. Unfortunately, the period of time is long enough to get noticed by her. Now you are caught and there is no way back. You have to speak.

"My lady, I apologise for interrupting you. I didn’t mean anything bad. I have an insomnia. Please may I stay here? Just for a little while." You say that so fast as if you are ready to get killed for your audacity. But the slight nod is the only response you have.

You hoped for this reaction but wasn’t really prepared. So you just froze for a few seconds before finally making your way through the room, looking at its beautifully arranged furniture. Still something, without any sign of mercy, is beckoning you to come to her as closer as possible. Besides, the is always a chance for you not to see the tomorrow morning. So you just decided to use all of your carriage to keep this opportunity. You slowly got down on the floor next to her, waiting for any sign of her disapproval to run away and blame yourself for such a stupid behavior for the rest of your life. You don’t know exactly what you are doing. It’s really hard to use the brains when every part of your soul is screaming inside you. Fortunately and scarily, she didn’t show any urge to stop you. You just closed your eyes, leaning your cheek to her dress to feel the soft material caressing your face. Every little thing about this woman is soothing and cosy. You can’t help this atmosphere wrapping you up in its embrace. You have been waiting for these minutes for too long that it almost makes you cry in relief. You feel like you’re in heaven and it suits your thoughts of being probably already dead just fine. It’s like being asleep and you look exactly this way when her fingers runs through your locks. Your heart is about to fly away from the chest but you don’t dare to move, relishing the soft touch. It would be unforgivable to scare this precious moment off. She keeps gently stroking your hair, sometimes drawing circles and flowers on the top of your head. You do your best not to tremble and pretend to sleep. But after half an hour it is not an acting anymore. You don’t realise how tired you are so…you wake up. In your bed. In your room. Is it just another dream? Who knows. Well, only the one may know.

#may English grammar forgive me #I do my best I promise #screaming crying throwing up while writing it #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #lady donna beneviento #angie beneviento #donna re8 #re8 fic #fanfic

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redr0sewrites · 7 months

Text

Sub!Eris Vanserra Thoughts/Hcs

this maaannnnnn ive been brainrotting sub eris foreverrr im kinda tired and my writing is kinda mid recently but i had to write this

🥀Cw: smut, sub!eris, marking, begging, praise, degrading, oral (m receiving), overall filth, reader is gn and can be read as a strap or actual dick

Eris is such a brat, hes cocky and confident and most people would never suspect that hed ever submit

he doesn't relinquish control often, and you didn't think that was something he would ever be into until one night. you were riding him, and the both of you were sweaty and overstimulated with pleasure. His hips rutted up desperately, his arousal making his head hazy.

"ple- nghh, please mistress- it feels so good-" his pupils were blown out, hair tussled and chest heaving. He froze immediately, realizing what he had just said. You paused too, his words making you even more aroused then before

"you like that, little fox? like it when i make you beg?" eris doesnt meet your eyes, but you already know his answer

"if you want me to move again, you're going to have to ask nicely" his hips jerk up slightly, yet you force him back down, rolling your hips as a strained whine leaves his hips. Lets just say that it was quite an interesting night~

After that, Eris began to become more comfortable with being submissive

it definitely took some time for him to get used too, but he trusts you

love love LOVES when you tie him up, he wants to be completely at your mercy

pleASEEE praise him, this mf has the biggest praise kink. He needs to know how good he is, what a good job hes doing, how hes making you feel...

When you praise him, his eyes get glossy and his brain goes blissfully blank, he just need you so bad! he wants to be good for you, he really does

however, despite his love of praise, he can be a major brat....

eris will mercilessly tease you all in the hopes that you will rail him stupid, degrading him and biting deep hickeys into his firm shoulders as his knuckles turn white from gripping the sheets, eyes rolling in pleasure because its all so much, too much~

DEGRADE HIM‼️‼️‼️ SAY THE MEANEST SHIT TO HIM, PULL HIS HAIR AND BEND HIM IN HALF

has a reverse size kink, he LOOOVESSS if ur smaller than him yet still pin him down and restrain him. he adores it when you take control

sometimes, you tease him as well

say for example, hes very stressed doing his high lord duties- what better way to relieve his stress then sucking him off? crawling under his desk while hes working, he cant even focus from the overwhelming pleasure from your mouth around his cock. eris is biting his lip so hard it draws blood trying not to make a sound, yet soft whimpers keep slipping through. it only makes you more aroused, and one hand grips your hair roughly while the other clings to the desk, shaking with need as his eyes roll back

when hes angry, he adores it when your rough. fold him in half, his knees pressing up against his chest as you rail him senseless, your cock is so deep inside him, nudging his prostate so well and making his thoughts so fuzzy<3

overall, eris just loves it when you take control<333

i swear im trying to write more school is kicking my ass guyssss JAJSJSJ. IM ACTUALLY SO EXCITED I FINISHED THIS THO- FEEL FREE TO SEND IN MORE ACOTAR REQS IVE BEEN HAVING A TOTAL ACOTAR BRAINROT!!! I HAVE MORE ERIS STUFF COMING ALONG WITH SOME AZRIEL STUFF ROTTING IN MY DRAFTS LMAO

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a-dragons-journal · 9 months

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On Questioning An Archetrope

So I'm turning over the concept of a potential paladin (or something similar) archetrope in my brain now.

I have... kind of always viewed myself as a guardian. I've been the Mom-friend, the one people go to for advice, for practically as long as I can remember. I have a protective streak a mile wide, partly due to my territorial instincts from my dragonself. I don't really want to talk about it publicly, but suffice to say that growing up I had what I would now, for lack of better words, call a rich imagined reality wherein I (and my few closest friends, though I hung onto it the longest) was a capital-G Guardian, a hero of blade and armor, a protector of the world.

Later on, in high school, those same friends and I took on a more realistic protective streak, primarily in the form of a habit of adopting girls who a) had just been through bad breakups and/or b) were being harassed/stalked by creepy boys and literally bodyguarding them throughout the day. I still fantasize about scenarios where I get to protect people, often strangers, on a regular basis, for no real reason other than it makes me feel good. I want to be that. I want to be a protector, a shield and sword for those who need it.

My first D&D character was a paladin, and a fairly stereotypical one (although not fully Lawful Stupid). Shail is a tiefling who was abandoned at a temple doorstep as a baby after they were born, raised by one of the priests as their father, and later took up arms after being inspired by a visiting paladin and took the Oath of Devotion. They were my first experiment with they/them pronouns. I am realizing their choice of class may also have been a bit of projection.

I don't know how much of this is inherent to me and how much is something I chose and how much is something I want to choose.

A brief tangent: it so happens that I very recently saw the musical Man of La Mancha, which is based on Don Quixote. While I was vaguely familiar with the story of Don Quixote, I'd never actually read or seen it in full in any form until now. I did not expect to be as touched by it as I was. Don Quixote is... for all we often make fun of him for the windmill incident, ultimately I think Don Quixote is someone we could all stand to learn from, and perhaps even to aspire to. To stubbornly, doggedly, adamantly adhere to honor and justice and a view of the world where good prevails in the end, to fight for what's right no matter the odds, to swear yourself to these things despite the way the rest of the world laughs at you - perhaps the world would be a better place if more of us were Don Quixote in this.

"A quest?" "How you must fight? And it doesn't matter whether you win or lose, if only you follow the quest."

"To dream the impossible dream. To fight the unbeatable foe. To bear with unbearable sorrow. To run where the brave dare not go. To right the unrightable wrong. To love pure and chaste from afar. To try when your arms are too weary. To reach the unreachable star."

Perhaps the recency of this exposure to Don Quixote, and my thoughts and feelings about it and about him as a character, is influencing how I'm reacting to the exposure to archetropy. Or perhaps my reaction to Man of La Mancha is indicative of my resonance with Don Quixote as someone I would argue has an archetropal identity (if of the Knight Errant rather than of the Paladin, though the two really aren't that different) himself. Perhaps both.

Either way, I think it's an admirable thing to take up such a mantle in the face of the world's cruelties - to take up the Guardian's armor and sword again, illogical as it may be, and to aspire to such a lofty ideal as this despite the way the world may consider it foolish or daft.

(And there I go getting poetic prose-y again. Perhaps that's also part of why the paladin archetype appeals to me, ha. I have been known to monologue.)

Even my job can be argued to fall into the paladin - a healer, a helper, a servant who at least tries to value The Good Of The Patient above all else. it's not quite a guardian role - but then, a paladin is often a healer as well.

On top of all of that, there's the fact that when I, out of curiosity and experimentation, put a major problem of indecision I've been facing regarding my current job hunt through the lens of "what would a paladin do," it immediately answered the question with "wouldn't let the difficulty of the task scare them off." Which didn't completely solve my problem, but solves a good solid chunk of it.

So it appears that this may be a helpful tool for me. Even if the thought of "what would Xenk Yendar do" is a slightly silly one. (And yes, Xenk Yendar is an extremely good representation of what paladin looks like to me - and perhaps it's telling that I really latched onto him as a character almost instantly upon watching Honor Among Thieves.)

Perhaps my one big hesitance to latch onto the paladin archetype is the religious connotation of a paladin - while I suppose my relationship with Asclepius could qualify, under the "paladins are also often healers" thought, Asclepius does not cover most of what draws me to the paladin archetype. But a paladin doesn't always have to be religious; in D&D paladins technically draw their power from their oath, Xenk Yendar comes up as an example of a paladin who doesn't obviously seem to have a particular god, and besides none of the alternative archetypes I'm finding or coming up with fit quite as well. The Knight Errant is close, but requires wandering in a way I am thoroughly uncomfortable with (I am still a territorial beast at heart) and also implies seeking evil rather than defending from it.

So... perhaps that's not as big a block as one might think. I'm going to chew on this a while longer, and I'm certainly open to suggestions on similar archetypes for my consideration, but... I might have tripped into a new alterhuman identity. Oops.

#archetrope #paladin archetrope #rani talks #alterhuman #journaling #community writings

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dramaticvhs · 1 year

Text

5 sterek fic recs

here are some fics I've read recently that I encourage you to check out!! I've enjoyed all of them immensely and I hope you will too :)

all are completed unless stated otherwise. please check tags before you read, some contain sensitive content.

Thirty Messages by Julibean19

(Teen and Up, 16k, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

“Look. I think my friend is obsessed with you… or your cell phone at the very least. And if your stupid fucking voice saying the same two words is all he’s ever gonna have of you, then you have to let him go. You don’t let him get attached and you don’t drag it out. If you hurt him, or lead him on, even just a little bit, I swear to God I will kill you. So call him back, and end it.”

In which Derek leaves town with Cora, and Stiles thinks he might be going insane... because no one would leave this many rambling voicemails for someone they weren't even dating... right?

what a big heart i have (better to love you with) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

(Teen and Up, 20k, No Archive Warnings Apply)

Stiles has a massive thing for Derek Hale.

This is not news. Stiles, after all, has been carrying a torch for Derek ever since they bumped into each other at a taco cart at the start of his freshman year.

But what is news? With no hope of ever capturing Derek’s attention, Stiles is thinking it might be time to let that torch go. Try to let it burn out.

(Derek might have something to say about that.)

Derek Didn't Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did by tiedtogetherwithadagger

(Teen and Up, 13k, No Archive Warnings Apply)

He let his head fall onto Stiles’ shoulder with a sigh of relief. He wasn't losing his pack, at least not tonight. Erica would be okay.

“Thank you,” Derek exhaled into Stiles’ hoodie.

“Always,” Stiles said.

Pack Up; Don't Stray by the_deep_magic

(Explicit, 55k, No Archive Warnings Apply)

AU – Werewolves are an enslaved underclass, collared and tagged by human masters. Detective Stilinski’s on duty the night they bring in an untagged stray.

Bad Dreams by Smowkie

(Mature, 5.7k, Graphic Depictions of Violence)

The sword glinted in the moonlight and Stiles groaned as he twisted it in his dad’s stomach.

“Please stop,” John said weakly, blood trickling down his cheek. “Please, Stiles, stop.”

It felt so good, though, and Stiles sucked in a breath as the euphoric rush of pain and fear from his dad filled him. He grinned and John flinched. “I don’t think I will,” Stiles said.

Stiles woke up with a gasp and he sat up and pushed the cover off himself, sweat making his t-shirt cling to his torso. Counting his fingers he slowly started to breathe normally again, and when the panic attack wasn’t threatening to take over he rubbed his face and looked at the time. 4 am. Well, three hours of sleep was better than nothing.

I made this list a month ago and forgot to post it... oops.. If you're up to it I always love finding new fics so a comment or reblog with your favorite fics are welcome. also my dms are open for recs :) I'm trying to figure out how to set up my ask box which is not easy in my silly little brain, but maybe it'll be open for recs soon

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #fanfic #fic rec #stiles stilinski #sterek fic recs

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the-crow-binary · 9 months

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One day, I will post a fic who has full context, with an actualy beginning, and is accessible to anyone... today is not that day.

Have a little piece about Mathias trapped in CV3 Castlevania after living there for a while and having bond quite a lot with Hector :) (tbf, @beevean is the one writing the fic wich is the context to this piece, but has not yet finished it. Blame her not me <3)

The room was strangely pretty. A good bed, a table, a chair, a few books… If he had been led here blindfolded, Mathias could have never guess it was supposed to be a cell. It was all so neatly prepared, he suspected the Count always had the intention to lock him up at one point or another. All the suppose freedom he had given him was nothing but a big cage, in the end. But his freedom was the last of his worries. He couldn't tell how much time had passed since he has been led here by Dracula's minions, who were still guarding his door, but it didn't matter. The recent events were still playing in his head, haunting, torturing his mind. Hector getting impaled on large, demonic wings' fingers. The blood dripping from his mouth, his pained moans, the sound of shattered glass and the Count's clothes folding as he throws his general out of a window. There was no scream, except, maybe, his own. Sitting against a wall, his limbs were still shaking, but his cheeks were no longer wet. He was never going to see him again, he was never going to hear the sound of his voice, of his laugh, the sparkles in his eyes as he was swearing his life to him, kissing the back of his hand… He brushed over it with his fingers. Somehow, he could still feel the warmth of soft lips caressing his skin.

"Is somebody there?"

Mathias looked up, startled. Two men were standing in his cells. One, armed with a whip, standing with an elegance that painfully reminded him of Leon, and the other, much smaller and scrawny, wearing clothes he could only associate with bandits. How did they get in his cell?

"Looks like it," said the small man, "why aren't you saying anything, sir? Did they cut off your tongue?" "Don't rush him, Grant. We don't know what he has been through."

The taller one approached carefully. Mathias stayed still, observing.

"To be protected by such fierce beasts, and being offered such a nice room as a cell… You must be an important prisoner to the Count, are you not?"

The Lord wanted to snap, to scream all his hatred for the Count, all his despair for being trapped in more ways than one, to order these strange men to go away and leave him alone to brood. But he kept his composure and silenced his most stupid thoughts. He wasn't going to get anything from crying alone in his cell, waiting for death. He still needed to go back home… he still needed to go back to his wife and friend. That's what Hector would have wanted.

"Who are you?" he calmly asked. "My name is Trevor Belmont," the name made Mathias' heart skip a beat, "and this is my companion, Grant Danasty." "We're here to defeat Dracula and put an end to his reign of terror, once and for all!"

Mathias looked at both men, one after the other. He didn't have time to process the informations given to him that a hand reached to him.

"And your name, sir…?"

He looks into the eyes of the man, they were the same blue as his old friend… Something about him was magnetic. He couldn't say if it was naturally coming off from him, or if it was his mind playing tricks, knowing he's the descendant of Leon… but it was there. And it made him take the offered hand, without thinking about it.

"Mathias Cronqvist. I'm…" he paused, getting up on his feet with the hunter's help, "I am an important prisoner to the Count. You are right." "Oh? Are you going to help us defeat him then?" asked Grant. "I don't have much, except for my brain. But if you will have me… I'll gladly join your side." "We would never be too much to fight him, but are you sure…? I'm sure you already know how dangerous our mission is." "Trust me, I am most confident in the fact I won't get too harmed." "Alright… Welcome to the group, Mathias Cronqvist."

Trevor shook his hand and put the other on his shoulder. The gesture was comforting, and so was his friendly smile. He reminded him all too much of his ancestor… four hundred years into the future, and Leon's influence still lived on. He would marvel at the fact, if the situation wasn't so heartbreaking.

#castlevania writing #crow binary writes #mactor #mathias cronvist #trevor belmont #grant danasty #castlevania #dracula's curse

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daylightaftertherain · 1 year

Note

1 but Simon sings off-key?

asdhkhjf YES ANON

I have a popstar!simon au somewhere in my pile of wip ideas, so in this one simon's a famous singer and I make him sing taylor songs <3

Wille's day was going as expected, up until the popstar struggling through Taylor Swift in the car next to him.

He'd gone to his only class for the day, endured an hour long phone call from his mother, complained about it to the group chat, and again in a phone call to his brother, then gone to pick up some groceries while ducking multiple paparazzos.

All normal things (his therapist would probably disagree, admittedly), or as normal as one could get while being a sleep-deprived uni student and the crown prince of the country, anyway.

He's unloading groceries and random supplies for Madison's most recent crochet project into his car (his bodyguard drives the car, but close enough) when the singing begins. He pauses, does a 360 around the parking lot, and lands on a figure in the car right next to him, who's singing very loudly and very badly.

This wouldn't be out of the ordinary with most people, Wille included, but the person singing is Simon Eriksson. As in, internationally recognized and openly gay popstar, Simon Eriksson, who broke multiple records with his first album alone, who is about to go on tour in a week, and is in running for Best New Artist at the fucking Grammys. Simon Eriksson, who's gotten himself in minor scandals after multiple anti-monarchist posts. Simon Eriksson, sitting in a car a couple meters away from Wille with his hair up in a messy bun, singing off key but still looking devastatingly gorgeous.

Wille is also slightly obsessed with him, but that's besides the point.

Simon is singing along to an old Taylor Swift song (the rerecorded version, though. Felice and the girls keep him updated on things like that), and it's not going too well. Wille was dumped into piano lessons at age ten, so he has at least some knowledge. He's not sure his mother meant for him to use that knowledge to drool over compilations of Simon belting out high notes perfectly, though.

Said singer has just reached the bridge, and his voice cracks right in the middle of it, prompting a loud and exasperated "motherfucking shitballs."

Wille bursts into laughter, naturally. Simon's head whips up, and his eyes go wide at a prince wheezing at him as the music shifts from "You Belong with Me" to "Enchanted." This is a pretty bad first meeting to the meet-cute song, he muses half-hysterically.

"Okay, either my brain's been completely cooked by this fucking plague, or you're the... crown prince, laughing at what I assume is my singing," Simon comments, rolling the window down with a confused smile.

"God, I'm sorry, that was just really funny to me for no reason," Wille gasps, reining back his laughter with every bit of experience he's gathered from years of keeping up a proper appearance at royal events. "I swear i'm not being an asshole or anything, it's just been a kinda long day, and you- you're Simon Eriksson."

"Wow, a prince knows my name," Simon drawls, "I'm flattered, Your Majesty." (he's using the wrong term and it shouldn't be cute, but it is)

"Just call me Wille," he says, finally recovering from his laughing fit.

"Sure, Wille."

"And uh, you don't have to answer, but.. what was that?"

Simon huffs, but the smile doesn't leave his eyes. "I was stupid enough to get a cold four days before tour, and it's been fucking up my singing. My manager's threatened my life twice already, my tour manager is on the brink, my mother's about to camp outside my house with soup, and my sister called me a quote unquote 'lovable idiot'" he sighs, emphasizing his point when he sneezes violently at the end of his spiel.

"That sucks, I can kinda relate," Wille says sympathetically, "I got the flu the day before a state dinner once and had to stand and shake people's hands for two hours."

"The struggles of being public figures," Simon says dramatically, cracking another smile when Wille giggles embarrassingly like a fucking sixteen year old. He cannot believe he's meeting his gay crush of over two years in a parking lot after laughing at his illness-affected singing. This is terrible. He'd also like to keep talking to Simon for another three hours.

"I-Is your manager as scary as she looks in photos?" Great job, Wille, you're revealing exactly how deep into this fandom you are to the subject of said fandom.

Realization creeps across Simon's face, and Wille wants to die. "Oh, you're a fan, huh?" he smirks. Wille shrugs faux-casually. Simon laughs.

"Well, to answer your question, Vera is probably scarier, but she's secretly a softie who definitely loves me. She'd probably stab me if she knew I said that, though."

Just then, Wille's bodyguard coughs quietly behind him; a sign that they should probably get going before someone notices him talking to another also highly recognizable figure. Simon's eyes swivel to her briefly then back to Wille.

"Well, I've had bodyguards for long enough that I know you should probably go, but hey, I'll DM you on Insta or something and get you tickets to a show if this sore throat doesn't send me to an early grave," Simon offers.

"Oh- um, okay," Wille agrees. He sees Simon's face soften into a warm smile, one that takes over his entire face, and he waves cheerfully before rolling up the window again and attempt to sing along to the Glitch chorus as he drives away.

(Their stupid first conversation is Simon's favorite thing to bring up at a party a year later and seven months into their relationship.)

-💜🎶-

simon you silly silly man, you let your throat rest, not strain it even more by attempting high notes that will absolutely not help

#ask game #anon #simon eriksson #prince wilhelm #young royals

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circusislife · 11 months

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Hi! I saw in your pinned post you were open to sharing tips about adhd, and I've been struggling with it so much recently I swear. Could you share any tips in general, or specifically for starting tasks? no pressure ofc you don't have to answer if you are uncomfortable with me asking ^-^, just let me know and I'll disappear into the windy wind

(warning: infodumping has been unlocked, prepare yourself :) )

ok, first of all, living with adhd is different for every person. mine your and everyone else's experience is unique and that means not everything that helps me will help you and vice-versa. you might want to tweak my advice to fit you better. that said, onto the infodumping! :D

let's see, I'll start with study tips!

you know that moment when focusing is a struggle and you feel like your head might explode but you keep studying? that's not a sign that you are stupid or dumb. it's a sign that your brain has reached its limit. your metabolism is struggling to produce enough dopamine to keep working, you need a break. depending on how exhausted you are you might need anything between 5 minutes and 20. don't remember where, but I once read that the average neurotypical should alternate 40min of focus to 20 of break, so there's that.

also, for that break, either do something completely unrelated to the task and that you really enjoy, or physical activity. that's because the first one helps you produce the used up dopamine because it's something you enjoy, the second one works because it speeds up your metabolism, all your metabolism, including the production of neurotransmitters. (doesn't need to be that much physically taxing, just enough to get your blood pumping. going up and down the stairs five times, doing a set of pushups, jumping in place a bit, anything goes)

also, don't fight the jitters. they are your body's way of unobtrusively speed up your metabolism and help you focus. the best way to deal with them is channel them in a socially acceptable way (bounce your leg, but keep the tip of your foot on the ground so it doesn't make sound, braid and unbraid some strings, twirl a pencil, stretch, play with your hair, play with a necklace...)

using timers to deal with time issues is useful, too. best if used in tandem with a schedule. (those are freakishly hard to make and harder to uphold tho, it's best to keep them simple, like "I'll start on homework 20 min after lunch", without specifying when lunch is, and leave some free time to make up for delay. also, if you really need to do something, tell someone else. I don't really like this, but the perceived obligation will twist anxiety into boosting your productivity. the body-double works more or less the same way, peer pressure nagging you into action)

other tip. if you have problem starting on homework, start from what's easiest or what you enjoy the most. finishing something soon or doing something with success will give you a confidence and dopamine boost that might be just enough to struggle a little less with the rest.

to memorize something, try to associate it with something else, build yourself some "memory anchors" as I call them. can be anything. "near the name of that historical figure resembles that of a Pokemon" remember the Pokemon, remember the name. "the date of this battle looks like a funny word/ has numbers in a particular sequence" remember the word, or the made up sequence, remember the date.

also, highlighters draw attention. make sure to switch up the color to avoid a memory soup, but used the right way they can help form the anchors.

I'm not much one for summaries (my brain is going to cut off a part of the text any way, might as well feed it the text that has something to be cut off), but they, alongside side notes, are a good way to trigger your memory once you've studied.

if you need to remember a date/appointment, either tell a few people and ask them to remind you or write it down everywhere , multiple times, and set up alarms.

create habits. for example, choose a few spots to leave your phone, and leave it there and only there, no matter what. if the place of the house keys is in a backpack pocket, don't put them down anywhere for even a second. keep them in your hand until you can put them back. if you have to take some pills at a certain time and some other just during the day, try to take them all at once so you don't mix up which one you took. you might struggle at first, but give it a few weeks and it will be worth it. if you can ask for help from a family member to remind you in the beginning.

if possible, separate your work environment from your relax environment. the brain works by association. if you associate sitting at the desk with work and laying on the bed with free time, in time simply switching place will help you slide in the right mindset.

using music as background noise is tricky. sometimes I prefer absolute silence, others the music will cover distractions and the change of tune snap me back to reality after getting lost in thoughts. it variates. only notice, if you like to sing, avoid anything with lyrics. you don't need the temptation ;). video-games' background music is one of the best options, because you're already used to its presence and not paying attention to it.

always have snacks and water in range. it makes it harder to forget to eat/drink if it's in sight.

find your limits and respect them. if my brain stops working properly after 6pm or tot hours of intense effort, pushing it much farther will do more harm than good. toeing the line little by little is fine, but all at once is just asking for headaches.

give into your hyperfixations any time you can afford it. actually managing to do something and learning new stuff is not only useful, but will also give you a boost of dopamine!!! :D

also, I find that having something always running in the back of my head actually helps! I mean, my mind is going to wander and get lost no matter what, but if I at least have an idea of where it's trying to go snapping myself back to reality is much easier. furthermore, if my brain keeps going back to "that one character that is in a situation" or "that curious and inconvenient scenario the protagonist is tuck into" or again a strange riddle that won't leave my thoughts, there's less space for intrusive thoughts of anxiety and paranoia to form and I have some control on where random thoughts are going to go.

no matter the workload, find a way to set aside some time every day or one day a week that is 100% obligations free. you need the time to unwind, rest and regenerate. choosing always the same time is best, because, you know, routine, but having that free time is just as important as getting stuff done. "there's a test the day after my day off? ok, I'll study, I'll rest the day after. but if anything tries to bother me then, heads will roll and I won't be held accountable for my actions.". this kind of thing.

this is all that comes to mind right now, so I'll end it here. this stuff is a mix of hard earned experience and advice I picked up here and there from adhd psychologists and neuropsychiatrists, hyperfixation fueled research and comparing notes with my sister (my main reference for "not me adhd"). and, by the way, talking to other people with adhd relieves stress like you wouldn't imagine, so, if you can, try to find someone else with adhd to just, talk. joy is having a conversation, interrupting it to look at a cool frog together and pick right back up like nothing happened. (I love my sis :)<3)

hope it was helpful and that you can take something useful for yourself from this!<3 rant

#ask #anon!#lovely anon!#infodumping unlocked!#adhd #adhd tips #living with adhd #not an expert #but I have known I have it and have lived with it for over 13 years so I think I am pretty close to being one if I can say so myself!#:)<3

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