#//& that scares him. he doesn’t know WHAT he’d do if anything happens to them. even at cost of himself & potentially everyone else

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya doesn’t intend to ever get married. Due to him being Khaenri’ahn, if it’s not having to keep that fact from them ( especially with how devout the Mondstadters are to Barbatos ), it’s the fact that he fears what would happen to them and any children they may have, should Celestia become aware of them. He can’t trust it won’t end terribly for them, and will always be left fearing they’ll be used against him or hurt bc of him.

[sttoru]

‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’

☀︎｜tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.

a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.

“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.

and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.

“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.

sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.

though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.

sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.

were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?

he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.

“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”

sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”

lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.

but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.

sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.

you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.

“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.

you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.

you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.

“where’d you think you’re going?”

sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.

you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.

his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.

he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.

“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.

you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.

even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.

you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.

“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.

you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”

a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.

“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.

you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.

sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.

“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”

it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.

the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.

until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.

[cake-writes]

Just This Once

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, he gets lost in the sauce frfr, situationship… ish?, this man wants to RUN, disorganised attachment style (primarily avoidant), penis in vagina sex, teasing, edging (accidental), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Kakashi discovers that he has a breeding kink. It's kind of a spiritual experience.

Inspired by @rookie98writes's fic Leave It On

—

Kakashi isn’t used to the strange sort of domesticity that comes with being in a... whatever this is. It’s not quite a relationship. A situationship, maybe. He’d say it’s something more than friends-with-benefits, but the two of you aren’t really friends, either.  

You come together every now and then. That’s all. Like two passing ships in the night. 

So why is he standing in front of your stove, cooking dinner while you sort through the pile of unopened mail on your kitchen table? Why did he offer to water your plants while you were away? Why does he want to do anything for you? 

Kakashi knows what it’s like trying to play catch-up after some time away from home—two months, in your case. He’d knocked on your door a few minutes ago with the intention of returning your key, and he must have caught you right after you got back from the store if the two bags of groceries on your kitchen counter were any indication. 

You looked so dead on your feet that Kakashi took over from there, unprompted. But now, as he stirs the pot of flavourful soup simmering away on the stove, his mind sees fit to wander.  

What the hell is he doing?  

He’s getting too attached. That’s what he’s doing.  

It’s that time again—time to cut and run, just as he always does when things start to become complicated. Kakashi makes a habit of ending any potential connection before it can even start, because he can’t afford to lose anyone else. He can’t get hurt if he never lets anyone in. It’s easier that way. 

“I need to schedule my injection,” you mutter to yourself as you read through one letter. Then you sigh and toss it back down onto the table, before you lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. “We should probably get used to using condoms again until I can book an appointment.” 

Your birth control must be overdue, then.  

“Sure,” Kakashi answers, feigning unbothered. The two of you used condoms in the beginning, but after a particularly gruesome mission that nearly saw him home in a box, Kakashi stopped reaching for the bedside drawer, and you stopped asking him to.  

He should have known then that he was getting too attached. 

Still, it’s your body. Whatever you want. He’ll end things in the morning either way. 

As Kakashi samples a bit of the soup he’s minding on the stove, pausing for a moment to add a bit more salt, it suddenly sinks in – really sinks in – what could happen if the two of you aren’t careful.  

He could get you pregnant. 

A jolt of arousal shoots through him.

Kakashi doesn’t want children, not now, not ever, which is why it doesn’t make a lick of sense that such a thing would turn him on. He likes the idea of his seed taking root inside of you. He might even enjoy it, the imagery his mind conjures—you bent over for him, begging him to give you a baby, your pretty yukata hiked up around your waist…  

His clan crest embroidered on the back of it.  

Kakashi swears. Loudly.

You startle, looking over at him in alarm. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he lies. Then he proceeds to play it off like he burned himself, but he isn’t fine. No, that single thought, that single fantasy, scares the complete and utter shit out of him—but it turns him on even more, and that’s so much worse.  

He’s already too attached. Way too fucking attached. 

—

Kakashi doesn’t do feelings. He has them, of course, much like any other person, but he doesn’t let them show very often, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them. He won’t say in so many words that he cares; instead, he shows you through his actions alone. 

His knees brush the underside of your thighs as he settles between your legs, bracing himself with one hand beside your head.  

What a vision you make, spread out for him like this.  

Your lamp had blown when you went to turn it on, leaving the streetlights to illuminate your features in a sickly hue of yellow-green. It isn’t romantic in the least, but he can’t help thinking that you’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment—maybe because it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see you like this.  

The sight of you, so needy and wanting, fills his chest with something bittersweet.  

The tomoe of his sharingan spins lazily as he memorises the curves of your body, the muss of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you work to recover from your first orgasm of the night. His fingers are still tacky with your essence, and he smears the residual wetness over the head of his cock to make the entry a little easier. 

“You should wear a condom,” comes your breathy whisper, but you make no move to stop him. Your eyes almost seem to glow as you peer up at him in the dark, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Mm. Do you want me to?” 

His question hangs heavy in the air.  

The only things Kakashi can hear are your soft breaths and the sound of his own steady heartbeat, which quickens with every silent second that passes.  

You want to say no, he realises.  

He wants you to say no. 

“I like it better without,” you answer quietly, and the implication isn’t lost on him. Not when you look up at him with those big doe eyes, like you don’t know the risk. 

Because there is a risk, and he knows it. Kakashi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night—wicked thoughts, terrible thoughts—thoughts of filling your fertile womb with his seed, thoughts of watching your belly grow round with his child, thoughts of seeing his clan sigil stamped between your shoulder blades like a mark of ownership. 

His.  

Against his better judgement, Kakashi does exactly what he shouldn’t do.  

He agrees.

“Just this once.”  

Just like he says every other time—except every other time, there hasn't been a risk.

Your coy little smile is what prompts him to lower down onto an arm and settle more of his weight on you. Kakashi dips his head to kiss you indulgently, savouring the taste of you, the feel of you beneath him. He kisses you like he hopes to convey just how much he missed you while you were gone, like you might be able to taste the unspoken words that linger in his mouth. 

He kisses you like he means it—and he does. That’s why he needs to go. 

As his tongue twines with yours, Kakashi fills you in a slow, beautiful glide that wrenches a whimper from your throat. 

He knows he should go easy on you, but he relishes in the rapid flutter of your walls as you struggle to adjust to him after so much time apart. A surge of masculine pride washes over him, tinged with a hint of guilt for stretching you open like this. He isn’t exactly small, after all, but you take him so well. 

To ease any potential discomfort, he smooths his hand up the soft skin of your thigh in a soothing caress, before he trails gentle, placating kisses along your jawline. “Is this okay?” Kakashi asks, voice low, only to be rewarded with a particularly strong contraction that makes his toes curl. 

“More than okay,” you sigh. 

As a test, he shifts his hips. When Kakashi hears your breath hitch, he knows that you can handle more.  

He starts slow, rocking into you sensually, but he already knows that he isn’t going to last. It’s been just as long for him, and you’re tighter than you’ve ever been.  

“God, Kakashi, you feel so good.”  

So do you. Kakashi sucks a bruise on your neck in response, if only to muffle the sound of his own pleasure when your perfect cunt clenches around him again.  

He needs to pace himself, or he’ll finish too soon—but then you ask him for more, and what else can he do but oblige you?

He speeds up, not overly so, just enough that both of you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of your lovemaking. The smell of your arousal permeates the air, and he’s tempted to have another taste. 

Later. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. “Did you miss me that much?” 

Maybe he’s reassurance-seeking – just a little – but your answering whine tells him what he already knows. 

He’ll miss this. He’ll miss you. That’s why he needs to go. 

“Stay with me,” you rasp. You’ve always been good at noticing when he’s stuck in his head, but right now, Kakashi can’t help but wonder if you’ve just read his thoughts. You see through him so easily. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

“Sorry,” he says with genuine apology, leaning in to capture your lips again. You let out a pleased hum into his mouth and lift your thighs up a little higher—an offering, one he’s more than happy to accept, even if he doesn’t plan to reciprocate.  

It’s selfish, he knows. 

The new angle does something to him, or maybe it’s because he's well aware that it would be even easier to fill you up this way. He reaches deeper like this, and the tilt of your hips would perfectly hold his cum in place, increasing the chances that it’ll take. 

He wants it to take. 

Kakashi exhales a long, shaky breath. He shouldn’t want that as much as he does. He shouldn’t want it at all.  

“Close?”  

Yes, but he’s not going to tell you that. Kakashi pulls back to look at you, only to find you gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. It makes his heart ache.  

He stamps it down. 

“I could be,” he teases lightly—a non-answer. “Are you?” 

When you open your mouth to respond, however, he snaps his hips forward suddenly to make you trip over your words. “I— shit,” you swear, and his eyes shine with silent laughter. Your own narrow playfully as you add, “I could be too, if you keep that up.”  

“Really?” 

To pick on you a little, Kakashi withdraws from your tight heat more slowly than he has all night, agonisingly slowly, until only the head of him remains inside; and then he lingers there, purposely, until the stirrings of impatience start to take you over.  

It’s cute, the frown you give him, the pout he sees beginning to form.  

“Don’t be mean,” you tell him sulkily. 

His lips tug up at the corners, revealing a hint of prominent canine. “Maa, I didn’t realise you were in a rush,” Kakashi drawls. “And here I wanted to take my time with you.”  

Before you can read too much into what he’s just said, he slams home. Hard.

Your startled gasp brings on a flicker of self-satisfaction deep within. Kakashi relishes in the knowledge that only he can make you feel like this—especially when he starts to fuck you in earnest, prompting you to fling your arms around his shoulders.  

“F-Fuck, Kakashi, oh my god—” 

“That’s it,” he encourages gently. “Hold onto me.” He likes the closeness of it, the intimacy.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, which brings about a funny feeling in his chest that he can’t quite shake—something warm and gooey and affectionate.  

Kakashi stamps that down, too, and traces the line of your neck with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin until you shiver. Seeing your throat so littered with love bites unearths something within him, something primal, that he’s always refused to name.

He likes seeing the marks he’s left on you. He wants them to mean something. He wants them to mean that you’re his. 

He’s too attached.  

To distract himself from what he intends to do in the morning, Kakashi picks up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh as he snaps his hips into yours, fast and rough, exactly how you want it.  

It doesn’t last long. He’s too worked up.  

Kakashi knows he’ll come before you do if he continues like this, but when he tries to slow down, you dig your heels insistently into his ass. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, please—” 

“I’ll have to pull out soon,” he says raggedly, even though the thought of finishing in you already has him ready to blow.

When Kakashi feels you lock your ankles behind him, he nearly does.  

“Come inside me,” you whine, your breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear.  

His thoughts screech to a halt. You want him to come inside you, knock you up— 

“Fuck,” he curses, stopping abruptly, buried all the way to the hilt. His cock throbs wildly, desperate for release, forcing him to tightly grip the the sheets above your head in order to stave it off. 

If he moves right now, he’s done for.  

When you make a quiet, frustrated sound deep in your throat and wiggle your hips, Kakashi barely manages to hang on. He can feel that tell-tale flutter inside of you, the one that indicates exactly how close you are, but he’s closer. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants as he tries to hold himself together.  

You finish first. Always. 

“Don’t be mean,” you say again, but you sound a little more petulant this time.  

Kakashi lets out an exhausted sort of laugh and presses a wet smack of a kiss just beneath your ear, making you giggle. “You like it when I’m mean.”  

“I like it when you’re nice,” you clap back, voice breathy. 

Kakashi hums knowingly. “All right. I can be nice.”  

Then he pulls back just enough to pepper your face with kisses, and you squeal in delight, though it soon tapers off into a moan when he starts to trail them down your throat, each one more sensual than the last. He palms one of your breasts, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple— 

“Come on,” you whine, digging your heels into his ass a second time. 

He laughs softly at that. No more teasing. You want him to be nice.

You inhale sharply when Kakashi picks back up where he left off, this time with quick, shallow thrusts that target your g-spot. He smooths his hand down your side, savouring the softness of your skin, then he slides it in between your bodies to rub your clit in just the way you like—the way he remembers you like, because he’s too fucking attached. And sure enough, when your hips buck from the added sensation, he knows that it’s working for you. 

“If you—If you edge me again, I swear to god—” 

Upon hearing the indignation in your voice, Kakashi laughs softly. “I won’t.” 

Then he remembers that he won’t have a chance to edge you again. Not after tonight. 

His jaw tenses at the reminder. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, holding onto him, needing him, which pulls him right back into the present. “Come with me. Please?” 

Kakashi bites back a groan and slides in deeper, readying to do what his body craves. 

No. He can’t come with you. He’d have to finish inside in order for that to happen. 

And just like that, he’s back to teetering on the edge. The filth his mind conjures nearly proves to be his undoing—a vivid image of your tight, wet cunt wringing out every drop of his cum until it takes, tying you to him, making you need him. Making you his. The threat of it simmers under his skin, but it’s starting to feel more like a guarantee. 

Get her there, then pull out. 

Kakashi repeats those words in his head like a mantra, over and over, like it’ll ensure that he lasts, and it works—at least until you start to move your hips in time with his thrusts. You meet him at the perfect angle, sucking him deep on every stroke, allowing him to slide just beyond your cervix and into that spot that sends your voice into a fever pitch. 

A choked sob escapes you as you rake your nails down his back, leaving red lines in your wake. The sting of it only sends him higher, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder to prevent himself from blowing too soon. 

“Right there, Kakashi, right fucking there—” 

Right there, so deep within you that if he came right now— 

He groans when he imagines what would happen, and it all ends with his baby in your belly and his family crest on your back. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, yet he fucks into you with purpose, now—hard, deep, powerful thrusts that knock your headboard into the wall. 

Kakashi knows exactly what that purpose is. The primal part of his brain won’t let him forget it. 

“Yes, just like that, fuck me, make me fucking yours—” 

He kisses you to shut you up, because if he hears another syllable, he’s sure to fill you to the brim. It’s not a gentle kiss, not now. He holds your head in place with a firm grip on your jaw, shoves his tongue into your mouth to assert his control, and still, he recites his mantra. 

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then—  

You jerk your head away to gulp in a breath of fresh air, chest heaving from exertion, and Kakashi’s eyes sweep over your face for any sign of discomfort. What he finds is the opposite, and he drinks in the pleasured scrunch of your brows, the hazy flutter of your eyelids, the kiss-swollen state of your lips. 

Seeing your muscles tense and strain as you struggle to keep your eyes on his is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced.  

“Come inside me,” you beg, and he can hear the desperation there, see it written all over your pretty face. “I need it, I fucking need it, Kakashi, give me your cum—” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he chokes out. Anything for you. Anything you want. 

The way your fingers wrench into his hair belies a hunger that matches his own, and you drag him down for another kiss, messy and insistent, demanding that he make good on his promise to pump you full. He can feel the ripple of your inner walls as you come undone, feel the painfully tight squeeze of your legs around his waist, holding him there, ensuring that he stays; and never in his life has he felt so overwhelmed.  

He can’t pull out. Not now. Not when you’re so willing to milk him dry. 

Kakashi kisses you with everything that he is as he shoves himself impossibly deep inside of you, acting solely on instinct to drown your cervix in hot, sticky spend. He lets out a sound of pure male satisfaction that you eagerly swallow down, your tongue massaging his in tune with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself inside of you, painting your insides white, marking you as his.  

It feels good. It feels right. 

He’s too attached. 

He doesn’t care. 

As he comes down from his high, all Kakashi can think about is how fucking risky it is, what he’s just done, which only ruins him more when the post-orgasm clarity finally hits. 

Why the hell did he do that?  

What the hell did he do?

Your thighs tremble and shake, a sign that he’s done his job well, though he feels no pride in it—just a growing sense of panic.  

He needs to go. He needs to go right now. Not tomorrow. Now. He needs to get the hell out of here and never look back, right fucking now.  

Then he hears your quiet sob, and his heart leaps into his throat. Kakashi jerks his head down to look at you, and when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, he actually does panic.  

“Did I— Shit,” he quickly pulls out to check on you, more attentive than he’s ever been, “Did I hurt you?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally hurt a woman during sex, but he really should have taken it easier on you. He probably went too deep and hit your cervix a little too hard. That’s what usually tends to happen. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I’m fine. I just... I really missed you.” 

Fuck. Don’t say that. You’ll make him want to stay.  

His eyes soften as they trail over your features – the colour of your irises, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips – and he gently smooths your tears away with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shake your head and offer him a watery smile. “I also came really, really hard,” you add matter-of-factly, and he huffs out a relieved laugh. It’s hormonal, then. “They’re happy tears, Kakashi. Calm down.” 

Teasing or not, someone telling him of all people to calm down is an otherworldly experience. The phrase lands strangely, and for the first time since he came to see you tonight, his thoughts quiet down to a dull background murmur. 

They’re happy tears, you said. 

You’re happy with him. 

He’s happy with you, too. He doesn’t want to go.  

You frown, then, and lean up onto your elbows to look at him more closely. “What’s wrong?”  

Kakashi can’t be sure what you see in his expression to warrant that sort of question, but the fight finally leaves him. He sits back on his heels and drags a hand down his face, feeling defeated for a reason he can’t explain.  

“I was just...” Happy, for a moment. Happy to be with you. “Worried,” he finishes lamely. He can’t look at you, not when he feels the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. 

You laugh and turn him back towards you, gently cupping the side of his face. “Okay. Well, I’m fine,” you pat his cheek in playful reprimand, “but I am leaking all over my clean sheets, and it’s your fault, so...”  

That draws his attention. When Kakashi sees the creamy mess spilling out of you, his flaccid cock twitches with interest even after he remembers why his stomach is in knots.  

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he says hoarsely, transfixed by the sight. 

He wants to do it again.  

He shouldn’t want to do it again. He feels fucking crazy for having done it once already, when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship, let alone in any way prepared for a child. But again? A second time? He’d have to be certifiably insane. 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, and Kakashi wonders how the hell you can possibly be taking it so in stride. He came a lot. There’s so much of it dripping out onto the sheets that it’s starting to create a small puddle under your ass, and there’s even more inside of you—a lot more, judging by how hard he came. 

It might take. It might seriously take, and you think it’s fine? 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him, and his eyes snap back up to yours. He’s in his head again, you mean. Then you chew your lip for a moment, hesitation evident, before you ask carefully, “You’ve been acting a little… off tonight. Is everything okay?”  

Every single one of his instincts is telling him to run. That’s where this conversation always leads, but he’s not ready for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

He swallows thickly. “I’m fine.” 

When you frown at him, skeptical, Kakashi shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.  

“Okay. I won’t pry. But, um, I’m here. You know. If you ever need to talk.” You say it a little awkwardly, like you aren’t sure if he’d be offended by the suggestion, and the worried crease between your brows only grows at whatever you see in his expression. “Or... Or not.” 

You laugh nervously, then, and shift away from him, only to wrinkle your nose when more of his cum oozes out of you.  

It’s cute. You’re cute. 

“You said it’s fine. Why?” The question leaves him before he even thinks it through, but it’s too late, now.  

“What?” 

This wasn’t the first time he’s come inside of you, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly the riskiest. “I finished inside. Why aren’t you more upset?” 

“What do you mean? You finish inside me all the—” Then you stop, and your brows shoot straight up onto your forehead. “Wait, is this because of my birth control?”  

“Well, it’s overdue, isn’t it?”  

You stare at him for a prolonged moment, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head. Then your nostrils flare. “Are you kidding me? You thought my birth control was overdue, and you still—” Scandalised, you slap him on the arm. “Kakashi!” 

Oh. Well. It must not be overdue yet, then. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him come inside if there was a chance that you might conceive. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“That’s so bad! What if you actually got me pregnant?” 

A lick of heat shoots up his spine upon hearing you give voice to what’s been on his mind all night. Kakashi stares at you, wide eyed, and blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.  

You study his face for a moment, before you purse your lips, looking a little troubled. Or pissed off. He can’t really tell. “I mean... Did you want to get me pregnant?” 

“No,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning hot because yes, he did, but not for real.  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, and...”  

How the hell is he supposed to explain himself? Neither of you are exactly vanilla, you’ve explored a number of kinks together, but this is something else entirely. Then again, a breeding kink would make the most sense out of any, considering it stems from a biological urge to procreate. 

But would you even believe him if he said he only gets off to the fantasy of it, and not the reality? Because if a woman ever said that to him, he’d run away as fast as he could. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips, then, a knowing smile, and Kakashi quickly averts his eyes to the window, embarrassed. 

“You like it, don’t you?” you hum, seductively walking your fingers along his shoulders. “You like the idea of knocking me up.” 

Refusing to look at you, Kakashi clears his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that comes on from your suggestive tone, never mind the words you speak in it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” The sheets rustle as you reposition yourself, and then, when your fingers delicately wrap around his cock, he inhales sharply and bites the inside of his cheek. “Then why are you so hard?”  

And he is, too. He’s already fully erect and ready for another round, and he knows that there’s no way to lie his way out of it anymore. As you start to work your hand over him in slow, sensual strokes, up and down, coaxing the answer out of him, his head drops back. 

“Because,” he rasps.  

The sheets shift again, and then you crawl into his lap. He welcomes you gladly, splaying his hand over your lower back to steady you, though he still can’t face you. He’s too embarrassed. 

“Because why?” you ask breathlessly. Kakashi lets out a pleasured sigh as you kiss and suck your way up the side of his neck, stroking him steadily, before you purr into his ear, “Because you want to give me a baby?” 

A soft sound of approval rips out of his throat, and his cock twitches into your palm. “Don’t—Don’t say that,” he pleads. 

“Hm? Why not?” 

To hell with it. No sense in hiding it anymore. “Because I might actually do it.” 

“Yeah?” Your teeth tug playfully at his earlobe before you pull back to look at him, and Kakashi finally wills himself to meet your sultry gaze, humiliated though he is. “You know,” you muse, “I don’t like condoms for a reason. Do you know why?” 

The breath leaves his lungs with a whoosh.

Oh, he should have known. You’re just as filthy as he is. Of course you’d have a breeding kink, too, though he’s exceedingly grateful that you’d kept it to yourself until now. You’ve never been shy about sharing the things you enjoy, which means you probably figured out how he’d react. That’s the only explanation. 

He likes that you understand him as well as you do. 

He likes you.

“I think I might be able to guess,” Kakashi says knowingly, a smile playing at his lips. When he leans in to kiss you again, all he can think is: maybe it’s not a bad thing to be too attached. 

—

Snippet #1:

“You said it was overdue,” Kakashi tells you. 

“No, I said I needed to make an appointment,” you correct, and he can see that you’re struggling not to laugh. “I still have, like, a week left on it. I just didn’t think I’d be able to get an appointment that soon. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

While you cook breakfast for the two of you, Kakashi wraps his arms around your waist from behind and traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.  “And what if I don’t want to be careful?”  

He feels the shiver wrack your body, but then you do laugh at him. “Down, boy. Three rounds wasn’t enough for you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kakashi pulls you back against him, allowing you to feel the answer for yourself. “You tell me.” 

—

Snippet #2:

Kakashi hides his face in your pillow, feeling distinctly vulnerable without his mask. “Don’t tease me,” he groans, muffled. “I have a delicate constitution.” 

You cackle at his discomfort, like the cruel woman you are. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m really, really curious.” Then you hum thoughtfully. “Do you want to know one of mine?” 

He shifts his head just enough to reveal one curious eye. 

You squirm a little, then, like you’re finally starting to realise exactly how embarrassing this is to talk about. “I, um...” A pause. “So, you know how...” Another pause, and you take a deep breath. “Okay. I like to imagine that I'm being used to—to repopulate a clan, I guess. Just, over and over. Lots of kids. But not for real.” 

He feels another jolt of arousal at your admission. 

Looks like you’re on the same page, then. 

Then Kakashi leans up onto his elbow to regard you properly, and then he lifts an eyebrow, as if to point out how closely that particular fantasy hits to home. 

That’s when you seem to realise who you’re talking to – the sole remaining member of a clan that could probably stand to be repopulated – and your eyes go wide, before you nearly trip over yourself to add, “It—It has nothing to do with your clan, specifically, Kakashi, it’s just—” 

“A fantasy,” he finishes for you, amused. 

 You worry your lip between your teeth and nod. 

“Well,” Kakashi says, considering his answer for a moment, “I might have imagined that, too. Specifically.” Then he gives you a roguish grin, intending to pay you back in kind for your teasing. “How many children do you think would be enough for my clan to be sufficiently repopulated, hm? I’m thinking eight.” 

Mortified, you bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god! Eight?” 

Payback’s a bitch. “Well, I was originally going to say ten, but—” 

When you squeal in embarrassment and yank the blankets over your head, Kakashi barely manages to stifle a laugh.  

—

A/N: This is the first thing I've posted in a hot minute, so your feedback would mean a lot - please let me know what you think :)

[babyleostuff]

SAYING SOMETHING THEY DIDN'T MEAN IN A FIGHT | PERFORMANCE UNIT

𐙚 JUN 

it would take a lot for jun to say something he didn’t mean, especially when it comes to you. he was always wary of what he was saying during fights or quarrels to not say something he’d regret later, but there were times where he was just too tired to think about what he was saying. i think he’d be the quickest out of all of them to apologise, like the second the hurtful words leave his mouth he’s already apologising, he just can’t stand your sad and disappointed expression. 

“i’m so sorry, honey. i didn’t mean it, i truly didn’t mean it. i know i can’t make excuses now, i’m so sorry, baby.” 

jun started babbling, not even letting you breathe after what he had just said. you wouldn’t lie - his words hurt, especially because jun never raised his voice at you during fights, so yes, you were sad and upset, but at the same time, a part of you couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked right now. 

jun’s eyes were wide in panic, and he was holding your hands tightly in his, as if he was scared that you’d run away, which to be honest - you’d do if he didn’t have such a strong hold on you. hearing something so hurtful from the person you loved the most wasn’t easy, you felt betrayed and disappointed by his actions, but you didn’t want him to get so worked up over this either. “jun, baby, calm down.” 

“no, i won’t. you have to believe me that i didn’t mean it.” you cupped his face in your hands, so his frantic eyes would focus on you for more than a second. “let’s just talk about it, k’ay?” 

jun nodded his head quickly, helping you settle on the couch next to him, where you’d calmly talk about what had just happened (he’d keep on apologising for the rest of the day, even if you said you forgave him).

𐙚 HOSHI 

things could get heated with this one really quickly, especially if he was stressed because of work or his schedules. hoshi would never intentionally take out his anger on you, but at the same time i don’t think he’s the best at managing his emotions, especially anger. he’d be so disappointment in himself after, though - like, the moment he says something hurtful (that he of course didn’t mean) he’d blame himself so much, and knowing that he hurt you would break his heart. 

no words could describe the disappointment and embarrassment with himself that hoshi felt then. how could he hurt his loved one in such a cruel way? you didn't do anything wrong and he let his words and anger get the best of him, leaving you sobbing quietly in the middle of the living room. 

“baby…” he felt like he didn’t deserve to call you that after what he had said, and you definitely looked even more upset hearing the pet name. “why would you say that?” you asked, your voice laced with so much sadness, hoshi felt his own heart breaking. he was sure your crying face would haunt him in his dreams now, but he deserved it. 

hoshi knew it’d be for the best to leave you alone for a while now, so you could calm down and collect your thoughts, but he was afraid that if you left now, you wouldn't come back. he wouldn't even realise when his own tears would start running down his cheeks too. “I’m so sorry,” he’d whisper, covering his face in shame. 

“i can’t hear you, honey,” you sniffled, wiping your face dry. “i-i’m s-sorry,” he hiccuped between the sobs. at the end, you both would start crying in each other's embrace. 

of course you wouldn't forgive him right away, but you didn't want him to worry that you would leave him.

𐙚 MINGHAO 

i feel like making minghao mad isn’t that hard, but that doesn’t mean he’d just lash out and take all of his anger on you, especially because he is a person that is good at managing his emotions. things could get really heated because of his pettiness and passive aggressiveness, though. sometimes he wouldn’t think through what he was saying or how he was acting, and how it would affect you. 

“wow, minghao,” you muttered, looking at him with disbelief. “is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” 

when he didn’t answer, you turned on your heel and walked out to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. minghao, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the living room trying to wrap his head around what had just happened - what he had just said to you. the guilt started to catch up to him, his chest filling with crushing pain.

what made minghao feel even worse was that he didn’t react immediately and apologised. he didn’t even realise how much his words had hurt you at that moment, which made him feel like he was the worst boyfriend ever. 

he’d give you some time alone, but when bedtime came, he’d softly knock on the door, your favourite snacks on a plate, and your favourite hoodie of his in his hand, and wait for you to open up. then, he’d apologise and have a proper, calm conversation with you. it was rare that you went to bed angry, minghao always made sure you’d make up before falling asleep, because in no universe would he be able to fall asleep knowing you were angry with him.

𐙚 CHAN 

chan would never intentionally say anything to hurt you, you were the love of his life and he swore to do anything to keep you happy and safe at all times, so you’d have to get in a really big fight for him to say something hurtful. and honestly it would break his heart seeing your reaction to his words, he just wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. and as much as i don’t think that chan is an insecure person, i think he’d need a lot of reassurance after a fight that you still love him and that you’re not going to leave him. 

chan stared in horror as a tear ran down your cheek. “baby, i didn’t… i don’t-” he saw your eyes fill with even more tears and if he only understood what had just happened, he would have immediately hugged you, but the problem was that he himself didn't know what had just happened. how the fuck could words like those even leave his mouth? 

“are u going to say anything else?” you asked, sadness filling your voice. "say something chan," but he couldn't, he stood still, he even stopped breathing. shame and embarrassment consumed him completely, he didn't know how he would ever be able to look at himself after saying such nasty words to you. 

he would stand and watch as you passed by him to leave the apartment, but he still wouldn't be able to move. when he finally realised that you had left the house and left him, he would just break down and cry in the middle of the room from the feeling of being so helpless. what if you really left him?

he wouldn't try to text or call you because he’d be afraid that all he’d hear would be "we’re over chan, don't call me ever again," and he wouldn't be surprised if you did. he acted like a total jerk.

when it finally started to get dark and you managed to calm yourself down, you went back to your place to calmly talk to your boyfriend, but all you’d find would be chan sleeping on your side of the bed, cuddled into your pillow with dried tears on his cheeks. that night he would be the little spoon, cuddled in your arms.

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[runninriot]

...✍️

“I want that too, y’know. The touching and kissing, everything. But the problem is, that I- I want all that from someone I can’t have. And that sucks.” Steve chuckles bitterly.

Isn’t that funny? That there he is, the wonderful man that stole Eddie’s heart, being just as miserable, just as heartbroken as Eddie is. It’s hysterical, really. Eddie wants to laugh, wants to ask who Steve is talking about. Finds it impossible to think there could be a single person in this world that would pass on the opportunity to be with Steve in all the ways Eddie would kill for.

   “Guess that makes two of us,” Eddie confesses and Steve perks up at his words, opens and closes his mouth as if he, too, doesn’t know if it’s okay to dig deeper.

There’s a sadness in his eyes Eddie thinks must mirror his own; two sets of brown eyes searching for comfort in each other. Eddie feels so small, so angry for Steve and himself because love could be such a beautiful thing but isn’t when the rhythm of your heart doesn’t match the one it’s beating for. When love is a one way road with no exists.

   “What do you mean?” Steve asks but Eddie just shakes his head and smiles weakly, trying to take some of the heaviness away for both their sakes.

People don’t choose to fall in love, it just happens. And when it does, there is always a fifty-fifty chance that your love is requited. That the person you fell for likes you in the same way, wants you just like you want them.

Sadly, Eddie has yet to be one of the lucky ones to experience that. The real thing. And while they are still staring at each other, each wallowing in their own sorrow because being in love hurts – he realises that this is so much more than a stupid crush. That this goes deeper than anything he’s ever felt before. That maybe for the first time in his 25 years on earth he understands what true love feels like. Feels the crushing weight of it. Knows it won’t fade so easily. But-

   “You’ll always have me.”

He can pretend. He can be Steve’s friend even if it hurts. Eddie would rather pull his own heart out than not to have Steve in his life. He’d rather be Steve’s friend than nothing at all.

   “What?” Steve seems confused at his statement and Eddie can’t blame him.

   “I’m sorry you can’t have who you want but you’ll always have me.”

   “Why do you say that?”

   “Because I mean it, Steve. No matter what, you’ll always have me. It might not be enough for you and I get that. But for me, this is everything I need even if I can’t have all I want. You wanna know why I came home so early? Because when you texted me, I realised that I don’t need to be anywhere else, with anyone else.”

    I just wanna be here. With you.

Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from saying more, knows he’s already said too much. Probably shouldn’t have said any of it.

The confusion in Steve’s eyes turns into something else – anger maybe? Frustration? He pulls away from Eddie, jumps up off the sofa and walks a few steps back.

   “You- you can’t just say things like that, Eddie.”

Eddie hates that there is so much space between them, so he stands too, approaches Steve like he would a scared animal, taking slow steps to close the distance between them.

   “I can’t say the truth?” He doesn’t think about his own words, just lets his emotions take over his brain and mouth, doesn’t care about the consequences.

   “N-no! You can’t just say it like it means more than what you’re actually saying. You’re doing this enigmatic bullshit I never understand because I’m too dumb to read between the lines!”

That causes Eddie to freeze on the spot. He’s only inches away from Steve now, could lift his arms easily to reach out for him. But Steve’s words stop him.

He’s right, isn’t he? Eddie does that a lot. Says only half of what he means or says one thing and means another entirely. He just never realised Steve knew. That he can see right through him.

   “You’re right,” he agrees.

Steve huffs annoyed, rubs his hands roughly over his face.

   “Then tell me what you mean. What you really mean.”

It doesn’t matter now, does it? He already said too much anyway. Steve is already onto him, knows Eddie is playing a game of hide and seek with himself – hiding the truth and seeking for an easy way out. But it’s too late to try and turn this conversation around.

   “What I mean is-“ Eddie takes a deep breath, summons all the courage he can find in himself. “It makes two of us because I feel that same way you do. Wanting someone I can’t have? Because you’re my friend, Steve. I can’t have you the way I want you and that’s fine. It hurts like hell but it’s fine. I can live with that. You’ll never be alone because you’ll always have me as a friend.”

Steve stares at him with eyes full of rage.

   “But I don’t want you as a friend.”

Steve’s words hit him like a fist to the face. But before Eddie can let them sink in and start spiralling about the meaning behind them – Steve not wanting to be friends anymore because of Eddie’s confession, obviously – Steve closes the distance between them in one swift motion, grabs Eddie’s face on either side, looking at him with determination in his eyes.

   “I want you as more than a friend, Eddie.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi hi!! could i request blade, dan heng, jingyuan, (and anyone else u may want to add) reacting to finding out you’re being creeped on at work please? i’m going through a similar situation at my job atm and would really appreciate it :’) thank u! <3

I hope the situation gets resolved soon sweetheart, you don’t deserve some creep making you uncomfortable or being well…a creep in general.

Jing yuan:

The dozing general seemed a bit more alert when you admitted to him that you were being creeped on at work, a place where this sort of thing shouldn’t be happening at all but is nonetheless.

He can tell that you were greatly affected by it and would do anything and everything in his power to rid you of it all. Jing yuan promises that the anxieties and the stress of having to constantly look over your shoulder, praying that the person responsible for all of it wasn’t nearby would be gone in a heartbeat.

His status as the General was more then enough to scare the creep stiff and profusely apologise for not knowing that you were his partner, rather then apologise to you like he should be, only for Jing Yuan to smile apathetically and say:

‘I’m not the one you should be apologising to,’ he then gestures towards you, ‘they are. So I’d suggest you get on your knees and plea for forgiveness. Quickly.’ He adds with a seriousness as his eyes glowed gold upon opening them and his smile faded.

Needless to say that the creep handed in their notice not long after the encounter with the General.

Dan Heng:

Hates, hates, hates seeing you this scared and uncomfortable by the actions made by one person who thought that it was acceptable to be a freak. All Dan Heng wanted to do in that moment was comfort you and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, but how could he when he himself wasn’t quite sure that was going to be the case?

He hates being uncertain, especially when it’s in regard to your safety in general, because he couldn’t fathom anything happening to you and he was there to protect you like he should’ve.

So instead he helps you in arranging a meeting with your manager about the creep’s behaviour towards you, going as far as to keep a list of all the things they’ve done during their tenure at your workplace in the instance should you not be believed. ‘Just in case.’ He’d say to you as he produced a thick folder filled with the creeps vile actions within the past few months alone.

Thankfully your manager wasn’t a piece of shit and the folder of evidence was enough to take action against the creep, and within immediate effect the bastard was gone by the end of the week; Just as procedures were later put in place for the safety of all employees who believed they were being harassed in the workplace.

After all was said and done, Dan Heng would still want to walk you to work and back, just as a precaution and a reminder that he was always going to be with you no matter what.

Blade:

Doesn’t take to the fact that you were being creeped on lightly and especially not when it was at your workplace either, and he will most likely try to take action into his own hands through any means necessary.

He’s aching to unsheathe his blade and put it to good use and end the pathetic creeps life for ever coming near you with impure intentions without feeling an ounce of guilt. However Blades sets this thought aside and decided to focus on you instead by standing guard outside your workplace until your shift finished.

He didn’t care. He’ll stay as long as he needed if it meant knowing that you were going to be okay, and even if the creep did try to pull something, Blade would be there within seconds to rip them to shreds. However Blade was already an intimidating bloke alone with his physical appearance, that he didn’t need to do much to scare the creep stiff, staring them down with his ruby eyes.

His natural stone face was also benefactor that Blade had going for him in terms of frightening the creep into handing in his notice that very same day. While It may not be how he wants it to end, but that didn’t mean Blade stopped waiting outside your workplace for you.

Just incase a new creep arises in the old one’s place and he needed to get a bit…physical.

[scuderiahoney]

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 4

Summary: a very bad snowstorm, bears in the ice hockey arena, and a one night only poster board pick-me-up. 6.6k words

Warnings: mentions of physical violence, small mention of alcohol

“So. You and Oscar spent a lot of time together over the break,” Lily says, carefully.

You roll your eyes and set the glue stick in your hand down, sensing this is going to be a long conversation. “We were the only ones here for like, a week. And we were bored. And then Max showed up, so it wasn’t just us.”

Lily isn’t looking at you. She has a wine glass in one hand and a magazine in the other. The two of you are making vision boards, which Max had called “glorified collages” when he called five minutes ago to ask about family dinner for tomorrow.

Lily hums. “He’s just so… quiet.”

You shrug and take a sip of your wine. “He’s not, really, once you get to know him. He’s just… it’s easier for him one on one, you know?”

Lily nods. You nod, too, and lean over to pick up another magazine. You flip through the pages, looking for whatever sticks out. Your friends collect magazines and newspapers and fun posters and give them to you, and you hoard them for days like these. A little sun drawing pops out at you from the page, and you reach for the scissors.

You clear your throat. “Nothing happened, if that’s what you were trying to say. We just. We had some movie nights, played some video games, took a couple walks. That’s all.”

Lily looks up at you and stares. “Right.”

You stare right back. “What?”

“Did you want something to happen?” She asks, and you freeze, the magazine page half turned.

“What?” You ask again.

“You said nothing happened,” she says. “Did you want something to happen?”

You stare at the wine in your glass, the way the warm light of the lamp catches on the red liquid. Your stomach swirls. Did you want something to happen? He’s your friend. Your study partner. He’s your best friends’ teammate. Did you want something to happen? He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him. He holds your hand when you walk by the soccer field and he doesn’t push you when you can’t do it. Did you want something to happen?

You shake your head. “We’re just friends. We bonded over physics trauma. We were just bored.”

Lily nods and reaches for the scissors. “Okay.”

You want to say more to defend yourself, but you think that’ll be even less convincing. So you move your focus back to the vision board and try not to think too much about what she asked you. It doesn’t matter what you wanted, anyways. He’d never see you that way, and if he did, he’s probably too scared of his teammates to do anything about it.

…..

January slips away faster than you’d expected. It’s full of syllabuses and assignments and far too much homework for this early in the semester. You do a lot of it at the kitchen table in the guys’ house, sat across from Oscar even though you’re not in a class together anymore. It’s just nice to have someone to study with, even if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you whine about your biology assignments.

February brings with it the warnings of a winter storm for the ages. On a Thursday night, you sit on the couch in the living room, giving your homework a feeble attempt. The guys are back from an afternoon practice, and everyone is settling in for the evening.

“You know who we play next week,” Carlos says, leaning over the back of the couch and looking at you.

“Can’t remember,” you answer, not even looking up from your book. “Not the Badgers.”

The Badgers are the Timberwolves’ sworn enemies. The rivalry game weekend is one of the most anticipated events on campus. It’s marked on the calendar in the kitchen with a dark red X. It’s weeks away.

“No,” Carlos says, raising his eyebrows when you finally look up at him. “The Bears.”

For just a moment, you wonder what sort of significance that’s supposed to hold. They play a lot of teams. Most of them, they’re relatively civil towards. A lot of the players grew up together on junior teams, and they’re still friends outside of game weekends. You’re about to ask if he has beef with a Bears player when you notice Oscar’s stiff posture where he sits on the floor in front of the couch. He’s been half watching the TV, half working on homework. Then you remember.

Oscar played for the Bears for two years. That was his former team. The ones who treated him so badly he quit hockey. You blink up at Carlos and pray he doesn’t take the route you think he’s going to.

“You know who used to play for the Bears,” Carlos starts, a lilting tone to his voice.

Oscar turns over his shoulder with a grimace. “Play is a strong term,” he says. “I did a lot more sitting than skating.”

Carlos shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows. “I am just saying. Maybe we should be worried that Piastri here will go easy on his friends.”

“Not my friends,” Oscar says, quietly.

You slip your hand off the couch and press it to his shoulder blade, hidden from Carlos’ view behind blankets and cushions. Oscar relaxes slightly, and his eyes flicker to yours. Carlos is just trying to rile him up, probably. There might be a hint of truth to it- trying to test Oscar’s loyalty, which is stupid.

You turn to Carlos and blink. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like your own apartment?”

Oscar laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, muffling it into his elbow. Carlos grins, gaze flickering between you and Oscar, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, Bunny has claws,” he teases.

By Sunday, everyone is panicked about the impending snow. The stores sell out of all the essentials before you can even bother to plan the week’s family dinner. You and Max will have to make do with what’s left on the bare shelves of the grocery store. The aisles are packed with people. You’ve lost Logan in the fray.

“He’ll be fine,” Max says, trying to maneuver the cart around a small child. He makes a funny face at her, and she laughs. “He will find us, and if he doesn’t…”

“Oh my god, please sound more concerned,” you say.

He shrugs and reaches for a box of Kraft Mac and cheese.

“You have to be kidding,” you say with a glare.

He nods, looking at the grocery list again. “I am. We are buying more TimTams?”

Your face grows hot against your will. You snatch the list from his hand as he eyes you, brows raised. At that exact moment, Logan, your lifesaver, appears from the crowd.

“I got so lost,” he says, eyes wide. “This place is a madhouse.”

Max nods, and he looks around, set determination on his face. “Alright. Let’s get what we need and get out. Logan, hold onto the cart.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I’m not a child,” he says, but he grabs the cart anyways.

By the time the three of you get in the car, the first few snowflakes are falling. Max sits stiffly in the passenger seat the whole drive, like he’s worried a little snow will send you into a violent crash. You make it home safely, of course, and unload the groceries together. Charles is sitting on the couch in front of the living room window, staring at the snow, a cup of hot chocolate in hand.

“It’s already pretty,” he says, softly.

You ruffle his hair. “Is there more hot chocolate?”

He nods. “Oscar’s making it.”

You head for the kitchen, bags in hand, and find Oscar and Alex huddled around the counter. You give them a smile as you unpack the groceries, and Max and Logan do the same. Oscar looks up at you, eyes bright.

“What do you want in yours?” He asks.

You stand with your hands on your hips, thinking hard. He’s got plenty of supplies- mini marshmallows and sprinkles and caramel drizzle and whipped cream. You shrug.

“Keep it simple,” you say. “A couple marshmallows and some whipped cream.”

He nods eagerly and gets to work. By the time your bags are empty, it’s ready. He hands it off to you with a happy smile- the whipped cream sits in a perfect spiral atop the mug. He looks so proud, and it’s such a sweet gesture, you almost lean over and kiss him right on the forehead. Almost, before you remember half his teammates are here, and Max is watching, and everyone is apparently suspicious. And that it would probably be a strange thing for you to do. You just smile and thank him quietly instead.

You head back into the living room with the mug, trying to shake his soft, proud grin from your brain. Charles is there, in the loveseat next to the window, and he pats the cushion, beckoning you to join him. You sink down, turning so you can look out the window, too. He tosses a blanket over your lap.

“He gave you more whipped cream than me,” he says, pouting.

You shrug. “Maybe he likes me better.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “Do you remember, a few months ago, when you thought he hated you?”

You nod. “Funny how things change, huh?”

Oscar walks in then, a mug in his hands. His gaze slips to the window, brows raising on his forehead, and he smiles happily. You smile, too and turn back towards the window as he walks over.

“Pretty,” he says, softly. “Wow, it’s really starting to come down, huh?”

You sigh. “God, I hope they cancel classes tomorrow.”

Charles sighs and sits up. “That reminds me. I have an assignment due at midnight.”

He stands up and stalks off, taking his hot chocolate with him. Oscar makes a sympathetic noise, but he doesn’t hesitate to steal Charles’ spot on the couch. You smile at him when he sits down. Both of you put your legs up on the cushions so you can stare out the window. You rest your head against the back of the couch and let your knee rest against his. Outside, Logan pulls up with a full car, having offered to pick up a few of the team members who didn’t want to walk in the snow. Carlos climbs out of the front seat and leans over, already trying to scrape together a snowball. Oscar sighs. You turn to look at him, and he’s got a look of apprehension on his face. You nudge your knee against his.

“What’s up?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll cancel the games next weekend, too.”

He doesn’t want to play against his old team. From what he’s told you, you can’t really blame him. He’d hinted at a toxic environment when he first told you, but the longer the two of you have been friends, the more information you’ve pulled out of him. He’d mentioned something about a scar on his upper lip, how his old team captain had left it there when he pushed him onto the ice. Your heart breaks for him.

Under the blanket, you reach out and rest your hand on his knee, lightly. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

He grins widely at that, and then hides it behind his mug of hot chocolate. You smile right back. Outside, Carlos hits Logan directly in the stomach with a snowball. The others are making their way towards the house. You brace yourself for the impending chaos.

Charles and Max cook dinner, and there are enough people in the house that you end up eating in the living room on one of the couches. Lando sits next to you, while Oscar sits on the floor in front of you, his back against the couch. The news is playing on the TV, and you all steal glances at the bottom of the display, where the area snow closures are being announced.

Max pokes his head into the living room from the dining room. “Snow’s getting bad. Anyone who doesn’t live here should probably go now, yeah?”

People begin to stand up. You almost follow suit, figuring it’s about time you headed back to your apartment, and not really wanting to walk in the snow. Lando grabs your wrist and tugs, though, and Oscar’s head whips around to look at the two of you.

“Maybe you should just stay,” Lando suggests, a small smile on his face. “It’s a storm warning, you know.”

You blink softly at him, though you sit back down. “Lan, I don’t have any of my stuff. I don’t have clothes to sleep in. I have an 8am class, and I don’t want to sleep on the couch and have a sore neck-“

“Oh come on, you know they’re going to cancel classes,” Oscar says, nudging your knee lightly.

“And if they don’t, I’ll go get your stuff,” Lando suggests. He pouts. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch, I’ll get the air mattress out. C’mon. What if your power goes out?”

“When my power goes out, yours also goes out,” you remind him.

“But we can all be powerless together,” Charles chimes in from the other end of the couch.

You groan. “You guys. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself in a little bit of snow.”

You hear Logan’s car start up outside. You try to get up again, but Lando wraps his arms around your arm, and Oscar reaches for your ankles. You let out a squeaky laugh and try to break free just as Max walks back into the living room, brows furrowed.

“Max! Tell Bunny she should stay here,” Lando calls out.

Max blinks, eyes darting over the entire situation before he turns to look at you. “There’s a winter storm. You live alone. You are not going anywhere.”

You grumble, but you go limp anyways. Lando lets go of you and high fives Max as he walks past. Oscar holds onto your legs for slightly longer, and he squeezes your calf softly before he pulls away. You try to act normal about it, though from the side eyed look Lando gives you, you’re not sure you were successful.

Eventually, you head to the kitchen to help Max clean up from dinner. Lily, Alex, George, and Oscar sit at the dining room table, playing cards, while you and Max do dishes and Lando and Charles clean counters. When your eyes stay on the Oscar for too long, watching him laugh happily, the sink nearly overflows. Max nudges your shoulder.

“You can go hangout, if you want. I can do the dishes,” he suggests.

You shake your head. “M’fine. Just spaced out a bit.”

Max nods, though you can feel him watching you every so often. Lando and Charles start slapping each other with rolled up wet washcloths, and that distracts Max enough, at least for a few minutes. There’s music playing, and you hum along as the soapy water warms your fingers. When the dishes are done, Max ushers you to the dining room, and you take a seat in the chair on next to Oscar. Lando and Charles join, too, and you smile around at everyone. Snow is falling in the backyard, and the world feels quiet. Oscar’s fingers brush against yours when you both reach for a card, and you can’t help but smile. You’re exactly where you want to be.

At 9:30pm, just when you’re starting to yawn, and Lando is talking about going and setting up the air mattress, everyone’s phones go off. Little dings and chirps and vibration sounds echo through the dining room. Alex is the first one to open the email.

“Classes are canceled!” He calls out. “Snow day!”

The room erupts into chaos. Lando and Max hug each other, George stands up and cheers, while Charles collapses forward onto the table in relief. You turn to Oscar as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and shakes you gently. Alex leans over and kisses Lily on the cheek as she cheers. The joy in the room is infectious. Snow days have the ability to turn you all into children again, apparently.

Oscar leaves his arm around the back of your chair for the rest of the game. You try desperately to act like it’s not there, like you can’t feel the warmth of him on the back of your neck or the way his fingers brush against your shoulder. It’s consuming your thoughts, though, making it insanely difficult to focus on the card game at hand.

He’s one of the first to go to bed, and you miss the feeling as soon as he’s gone. You head up to bed eventually, and you pass Charles in the hallway on the way to brush your teeth. He gives you a sleepy half hug and stumbles into his room. You find yourself looking at Oscar’s door and wondering if he’s still awake, but you’re not sure what you’d even do if he was.

You wake up the next morning to Lando still out cold, snoring loudly into his pillow, and the early sun inching its way through the blinds. The air mattress is partially deflated, and you slide off of it and onto the floor with a soft thud. There’s a hoodie laying on the floor that seems relatively clean, and you pull it on. You know immediately it’s not Lando’s- it smells like a different laundry detergent and cologne, but it feels familiar and warm, so you leave it on. Then you wrap a blanket around your shoulders before you head downstairs.

Oscar’s sitting on the loveseat, still rubbing sleep from his eyes when you find him. He turns and blinks up at you, eyelids heavy. You blink back, long and slow, the way you’d been told to do with pet cats. It seems to work on him- he smiles. Without a word, you head for the kitchen.

You return with two mugs of tea, and he smiles up at you. He makes room for you to sit, and you do so happily, curling your legs under you and fully facing the window. It’s a winter wonderland outside. You can’t even see where the front yard ends and the street begins. Snow is still falling, though at a slower rate.

“It’s so… quiet,” Oscar whispers.

He stretches one leg out behind you on the couch, and bends his other knee up next to you. When you lean against him lightly, he doesn’t protest or move away. He just smiles.

You nod in agreement. “Pretty. I love snow.”

You blink a couple times and take a sip of your tea. Oscar’s leg is warm against your side. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You sigh and let your eyelids flutter shut.

“Still sleepy?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, but the air mattress is deflating, and Lando’s snoring, so…”

“Here,” he says, and you blink at him in confusion.

Oscar’s hand brushes against yours where you’re holding the mug. Your grip falters, and he slips it from your hand and sets it down on the nearby table. Before you can blink again, he leans forward and wraps an arm around your middle. Then he uses it to haul you towards him, your back against his chest, side by side on the little sofa. You’re nestled between him and the back of the couch, surrounded in warmth, your skin burning up. You can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest behind you.

“Okay?” He asks.

You nod, too sleepy to form the words, too sleepy to worry about what this means or if it’s weird or if someone else will see the two of you and have questions. He lets out a little laugh, his hand slipping into the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing.

“Is this my hoodie?” He asks. You shrug. “Think it is, there's a hole in this pocket.”

“It was on Lando’s floor,” you mumble, burrowing deeper next to him. “So it’s fair game.”

He laughs, but he lets it go. You rest your cheek against his other arm and bask in the softness of it all, blinking at the falling snow and the soft morning light. Sleep scratches at the back of your brain, and as much as you want to fight it, as much as you want to stay present, it melts over you. The last thing you feel before you fall back asleep is the press of his cheek against the top of your head.

When you wake up, he’s in the kitchen, talking lowly with Alex. There’s a pillow wedged behind you to keep you from falling over and off the couch, and the blanket is pulled up around your chin. You don’t blame him for getting up, and you’re a bit relieved that he seems to have done it before the rest of his roommates are up, because you might have never heard the end of it. Though, when Lando rolls out of bed and joins you on the couch, with Max not far behind, and the three of you squeeze onto the little sofa together, you wonder if they’d have even questioned it. Maybe they’d have seen it the same as this- friends curled up on a slow morning, sharing space and warmth. Maybe that’s all it was for Oscar, too. You’re probably the only one who felt butterflies over it.

Oscar pouts when he walks in and sees his spot taken, though. Behind him in the doorway, Alex meets your gaze with a smirk, eyebrows raised, and you start to wonder again. Eventually, the rest of the people in the house join you downstairs, and you all start to make snow day plans. You close your eyes and listen to them talk. Whatever they come up with, you’ll enjoy, you know it already.

…..

Unfortunately for Oscar, the snow clears, and the first game against the Bears goes forward as planned that week. It’s a mess. The Timberwolves are up by two by the time they’re halfway into the second period, but the Bears are playing like, well, bears. Not a lot of penalties, but cheap shots and bad moves and what looks to be exhausting hockey. They’re frustrated by their own inability to score by the third period, and that’s when the claws really come out. The refs send a Bears player to the box for slashing. He gets back on the ice, and then another one gets called for tripping. There’s a few minutes left, they’re down a player, and they’re desperate.

When Oscar gets locked into a battle for the puck with his old team captain, you hold your breath. He manages to bat it away and send it skidding towards Max, but his helmet and face mask get shoved askew in the process. Somehow, you just know. Everyone in the arena follows the puck, but you watch as the captain on the other team rips his gloves off. You grab onto Lily’s arm and watch his fist connect with Oscar’s jaw. The Timberwolves bench erupts into chaos. The fight is over before it even starts, because Oscar just pushes the guy away and doesn’t swing back. The team captain gets sent to the penalty box. Oscar gets his helmet back on and gets back in the game.

An hour and a half later, you sit at the kitchen counter in their house, a mug in front of you. The house is quiet. You’re not sure why you’re still here- Lando went to bed a while ago, and Max had retreated to his room even before that. You’d made the excuse of staying to clean up the dishes, but now you’re just… here, still. Waiting. You should really go home. It’s bordering on midnight. If you walk home much later than this and any of the guys find out, they’ll be pissed.

The front door creaks open. Soft footsteps echo down the hallway, and you look up from your mug of tea. Oscar doesn’t seem surprised when he walks into the kitchen and finds you sitting there. He stops in the doorway, shoulders dropping. There’s a bruise shadowing his jaw. You wince.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he mumbles.

You stand up from the stool and head for the fridge. You can hear him walking closer as you rummage around in the freezer, finally finding one of the ice packs they keep in there. On a whim, you also reach into a cleverly disguised bag of frozen peas, and come out with two chocolate dipped ice cream bars. When you turn back to Oscar, items in hand, he looks perplexed.

“We have ice cream?” He asks, quietly.

You smirk. “Max hides them. But he can’t keep secrets from me. He won’t mind.”

He takes a seat on the stool, and you flip the switch for the overhead lights. He grimaces.

“I already had it looked at,” he says, brows furrowed. “Trainer said it’s fine.”

You hum as you step closer, pretending your heart doesn’t thud in your chest when you come into close range. “I know,” you say, reaching up and placing the ice pack against his face gently. He hisses. “This is actually an interrogation.”

His hand comes up to hold the pack, fingers brushing against yours. He laughs, then winces. “Yeah? What about?”

You drop your hand to your side. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

He sighs heavily, looking anywhere other than your face. You roll your eyes and open one of the ice cream bars and hand it to him. Then you sit down on another stool, facing him, before you open your own ice cream, too.

“I don’t wanna get suspended,” he shrugs. “And I don’t really fight.”

You decide not to bring up the guy at the party last semester and the way Oscar had been ready to punch him. “Even if they hit you first?”

He nods and makes a little noise. You wonder if he ever fought back when they were on the same team, or if he just accepted it. Your heart aches for him. He shrugs again, eyes flickering up to yours. He looks so sweet, despite the harsh kitchen light, despite the purple tinge on his skin, even more with a bit of chocolate in the corner of his lips. You take a bite of your own ice cream in the hopes that it’ll cool you down.

“Just never felt worth it,” he admits. “I don’t know. Some people are in it for that, for the hits and the fights and the… aggression. I just like hockey. Besides, the guy got a penalty. So now he’s out for a game. That’s better than getting a hit on him.”

The tone he says the guy in is interesting- like he’s distancing himself, like it’s easier if he pretends it was just some guy and not the captain of his old team. You overheard some of Lando and Max’s hushed whispers. You know the guy said some shitty things about Oscar on the ice. And tomorrow, he has to play the rest of the team all over again. Oscar takes another bite of his ice cream and purses his lips.

“I’m okay,” he promises. “And if the guys think I'm going easy on them because I have some weird sense of loyalty, I’m really not.”

“Oh, Osc,” you say quietly, shaking your head. You reach across the gap and press your hand to his wrist, the one holding the ice pack. “Nobody thinks that.”

He shrugs. “Carlos was-“

“Carlos was being a dumbass, but he doesn’t really believe it,” you promise. “After the game, all they were worried about was you. That’s it.”

He lets out a huff and takes another bite of his ice cream, cracking through the chocolate shell. “I don’t wanna be worried about.”

You almost pull your hand from his wrist, but as soon as he says it, he winces, closing his eyes. You wait, rubbing your thumb against his skin. He takes a deep breath. You press your finger to his pulse point, and his breath hitches. You watch his shoulders move.

“I don’t mean that. It’s nice. Just. Had a bad day,” he says. “And we have to do it again tomorrow.”

You nod and squeeze his wrist. “That’s the shitty thing about the way college hockey works, huh.”

He nods. The ice pack bumps against his face, and he hisses. You muffle a laugh and reach to put your hand over his to steady it, keeping your grip gentle. He inhales through pursed lips and closes his eyes. He slips his hand off the ice pack and lets you hold it, and blood roars in your ears. It feels so trusting. Strangely intimate. His hand falls to your knee, and you try to breathe normally. You’re probably failing miserably. You swallow all the feelings down and try to come up with something to say.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” you remind him. “We can wake up and pretend today never happened. A new game, a new start.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “I can try.”

“That’s all anyone could ask for,” you tell him. “That’s all you can ask yourself for.”

A wavering smile crosses his lips. You take a bite of your ice cream to stop yourself from leaning in to brush your own lips against his cheek. The two of you eat the rest of your ice cream bars in the peace and quiet, under the fluorescent kitchen lights. His hand stays on your knee, barely there, just resting. Your fingers go numb holding the ice pack, but you don’t complain. You can hold this for him, for a little bit. He’s holding onto enough.

…..

You wake up on the couch the next morning with an ache in your neck, because by the time you finished the ice cream Oscar insisted it was too late for you to walk home, and you hadn’t wanted to wake Lando by sneaking into his room. Upstairs, you can hear the guys starting to wake up. Soon they’ll be donning their suits and heading to the rink to get ready. You push yourself to sit up and run a hand through your hair. Then you head for the front door.

Once you’re home, you call Lily. “I have an idea,” you say, ”and I need your help.”

Lily, to her credit, doesn’t ask a lot of questions. You’re sure she sort of understands what’s going on without having to ask, but you’re grateful either way. The two of you shuffle into seats in the arena, eager to watch. You’re wearing your jersey today, hoping it brings good luck, and you’ve both gone full out with lines of blue face paint under your eyes.

When they come out onto the ice, Lando’s the first one to spot you. He does a double take, nudging at Max’s shoulder. They both stare, heads tilted. You can’t blame them. Instead of your normal seats, the two of you are in the front row, right down by the boards.

You’d sit here every game if you could, but the tickets are outrageously expensive on a college student budget, especially when you can sit in the student section for free. Today, though, you’d splurged. There’s a poster board sitting at your feet that you’ve worked painstakingly on all morning. It needs to be seen, and for that, you need to be up close.

Lily lets out a squeak when Alex skates over. “Oh! Hi!”

You roll your eyes affectionately at your friend as she makes hand gestures at her boyfriend through the plexiglass. It’s too loud for them to hear each other, especially through the glass, but Alex’s big smile says more than words ever could. For what’s definitely not the first time, you find yourself wishing you could have what they have. You want someone to smile like that when they see you. You want to feel that giddy feeling.

Lando skates over, tapping his glove against the glass. You just shrug and laugh. He points at the poster board. You shake your head, and he rolls his eyes. It’s not for him. He’s not the one who needs it. Out on the ice, Oscar’s next to Charles, heads bent together as they stretch. Max skates over and points at you, and from this close, you can see Charles' affectionate eye roll, and the way Oscar smiles. He goes from apprehension to adoration quite quickly. Something turns in your chest. Lando, who’s still standing nearby, quirks a brow, and you wonder how plainly it’s written across your face.

While they’re all looking, you take a deep breath, pick up the sign, and raise it above your head. Alex bursts into giddy laughter, Lando’s shoulders drop, and Oscar’s face lights up like the sun.

Kick Some PiASStri, it says. The letters were cut out of magazines and glued down this morning, and you’re still a bit worried it’s not dry enough, but it seems to hold for now. Max and Charles bump their heads against each other as they laugh. Oscar shakes his head, absolutely beaming. It’s a new game, a new start, another day, another chance. And maybe, what he needs is a little bit of encouragement. A reminder that there are people rooting for him.

He skates over, playfully shoulder checking Lando, who’s talking to Alex, now. Oscar takes his stick and scoops up a loose puck off the ice. He flips it over the barriers to you, and you catch it, shrieking at the temperature when it lands in your hand. It’s nearly as cold as the icepack you held to his face the night before.The bruise on his jaw is visible as he looks at you through the glass, but he’s smiling so wide all the same.

He yells something. You can barely hear, but between that and the lip reading you’ve learned to do after years of watching hockey, you think he says something about his “number one fan.”

You just smile and laugh and hold the puck up in the air, hoping the giddy feeling in your chest isn’t painfully obvious. He puts a glove against the plexiglass, and you place your hand there, too, and you know you can’t but you swear you feel the warmth of him. It’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. He shakes his head, then pats his hand against the clear surface, and then he takes off across the ice.

When you turn to Lily, she’s smiling knowingly. “That was…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. “I don’t wanna hear it. He just needed some encouragement.”

It seems to work. He’s on fire that night, skating across the ice like it’s exactly where he belongs. You’re proud to be there, proud to hold the poster up when he scores, proud to call yourself his friend.

After the game, you find yourself in the back hallway of the arena, waiting. You can hear the music in the locker room from here, can hear the intermittent shouting and cheering from the guys. The other team is long gone. Lily’s back at the house already, getting things ready for the inevitable big party they’ll be having after a win like this. The poster you’d made leans against the wall.

Oscar’s the one to find you. His smile seems permanently set on his face tonight. His hair’s a mess, towel dried and sticking in every direction. “You kicked ass,” you call out.

He doesn’t stop at the socially acceptable distance apart. He walks close, so close you have to lean your head back just slightly to look him in the eye, so close that you can smell his shampoo and see the freckles on his cheeks. His hands are in his pockets, and your heart is in your throat. There’s something wild in his eyes. The bruise on his jaw is dark, almost blue now, and you reach up to brush a finger against the outline of it. He blinks and pulls his hands from his pockets.

“It was nice to see you in the front row,” he says.

Your pulse is pounding. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Those tickets are expensive. Just needed to make sure you could see the sign.”

He juts his chin out. “Yeah?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah. Did it work?”

He doesn’t answer. He just reaches out, and his hand lands on your hip. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye, and you hold your breath. His eyes search your face, darting between your eyes and cheeks and lips. You lean closer, closer. His cheeks are rosy and blotchy, from the game and the post game shower and- and maybe, from this, too. Is he feeling it, too? Is his heart racing, is he holding his breath, are there butterflies swirling around in his stomach?

Just when you think you can’t hold your breath any longer, he closes the gap, pressing his lips against your cheek. You wonder if he can feel how warm your face is beneath his lips, if he can hear the way your heartbeat picks up. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, but you let your eyes fall shut anyways, let the warmth wash over you, down your spine and all the way to your fingertips and toes. This is better than a thank you, better than anything, really.

There’s a loud bang of a door being flung open, and both of you break apart in a rush. You wobble, and he does his best to keep you steady. By the time you stand up straight, the two of you are standing a respectable distance apart, and the door to the hallway swings open. It’s Carlos, first, followed by the rest of the team. You try to compose yourself. Oscar’s face is bright red.

“Bunny!” Charles calls out, eager and bright eyed. “We won!”

Oscar backs away when Charles rushes up to hug you. Nobody comments on his red cheeks, or the poster sitting at your feet. You’re sure they’d teased him about it, but they won the game, so anything that got them there is seen as a good thing. Max is the next one to wrap you up in a hug, and soon you’re being pulled along in the stream of hockey players, out towards where the rest of their friends and families wait, out towards the walk back to the house where the party will already be in motion.

“Your face paint is smudged,” Lando says, pointing at your cheek.

You laugh and brush Lando’s hand away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Oscar wipe his thumb on his pants, as discreetly as possible, and your heart flutters in your chest. There’s a blue streak of paint left behind on the fabric. It’s some sort of evidence that it really happened. It’s enough, for now.

Later that night, when you’re falling asleep in Lando’s room after a long night of celebrating, you think of deep blue bruises and bright blue face paint, and how much you wish you’d gotten the chance to mix them both together. It would look nice, you think, as you drift off. Paint smudged on his rosy, freckled cheeks. It would’ve been nice.

You dream of Oscar. You’re definitely not complaining.

a/n: happy oscar’s birthday to all who celebrate! 🥳

Series Taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav

[saerins]

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.5k | content: fluff, pining, mentions of fake dating, jealousy, reader is kind of an idiot, sae loves to tease, best friend otoya, cussing

notes: hello hello i’m on board the sae love train once more , are you guys still with me ^_^

summary: what do you do when your best friend kind of sort of forces you to confess your two-year long crush when you’re not ready to? pray and hope for the best.

“i could just tell him for you.”

“eita, fuck no,” you throw him a warning glare as you chop the vegetables up with scary precision despite not having an eye on them. only because you know if you don’t explicitly tell him not to, that he’d think it’s no big deal and do it anyway.

and let’s say, you’d rather die than let that happen.

sure, you and sae had been closer back in high school; he sat behind you and entertained the secret notes you passed to him, he used to ruffle the top of your head whenever you pouted, he used to buy food for you during breaks.

but that’s all in the past and somehow, the both of you had drifted since then.

otoya deadpans, an unamused pair of eyes looking back at you from their spot across the island. “it’s been what, four fucking years since you graduated? grow a pair,” he retorts, attempting to steal a carrot but getting a slap on the back of his hand instead.

“bold of you to say that to a girl with a knife,” you snap at him, pointing the blade at his face.

to which he merely rolls his eyes, using two fingers to push it aside. “not like you’re that good at using it.” but he sighs when you silently turn your attention back to chopping vegetables. “does that mean i have to put up with your miserable face even longer?”

you and otoya continue to bicker, and you’re beginning to wonder how you’ve tolerated being best friends with him for the past four years. he’s a real piece of work.

“fine, fine,” otoya grumbles after you’re done with lunch, bangs over his eyes. “i promise i won’t tell sae anything, okay?”

that’s after you threatened not to let him hijack your house anymore for food. for someone who’s earning big bucks being a famous soccer player, you can’t make sense of why he won’t just get food delivered. maybe he just likes to annoy you.

“good. or else i’ll kill you.”

your crush on itoshi sae has been somewhat dormant for the past few years. and by dormant you mean that you haven’t tried making any moves because you’re too scared.

itoshi sae. one of the most famous international breakout stars in soccer. one of the most talented playmakers the world has ever seen. that comes with its own sets of pros and cons.

pros? he definitely doesn’t seem like he has much trouble doing anything he wants. he gets paid for every game. he gets paid for gigs. he gets sponsorships all over the place. which basically means that financially, he doesn’t need to give a shit.

cons? the media can be brutal. sae does something that’s remotely questionable and they’re all over it. he doesn’t thank a waiter that one time? automatically labeled as a rude brat by the paparazzi. and not to mention—the amount of girls he’s forced to fake date just for the sake of publicity.

you’re mostly pressed on that last part though, because they’re all supermodels or olympic stars or rich socialites. and compared to them, well, you’re just someone who happens to be in the same friend group and hang out together every once in a while when he’s back in japan. sae doesn’t even hang out much with the group, to your dismay.

it’s a pain, or so he says.

you wonder how you drifted in the first place. maybe it’s just the fame. you wonder if he thinks of you too sometimes.

must be your wishful thinking.

kind of makes you wonder whether he does have a secret girlfriend that he’s keeping from everyone. you wouldn’t really put it past him. it’s not like he has any super deep emotional bonds with any of you (that you know of). eita says he’s definitely single, but you think he’s just saying that to appease you. he already has his hands full having to watch you mope whenever you see news of sae and another girl and yet another dating rumor.

just as well. you think sae could do better than you, spending your friday nights at home, washing dishes at the sink and looking out at the tokyo skyline instead of out partying and living life with countless friends.

you don’t think you’re too shabby though. you’re a fresh graduate with a job at one of the most prestigious companies in tokyo you can think of. it’s not bad. but you can’t help but feel it’s worlds away from the one sae lives in.

the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts, nearly dropping the white marble plate you’re washing. your eyes snap to the clock in the living room. it’s almost 9pm—right about the time when eita usually comes knocking and asking you for supper.

groaning, you wash whatever’s left of the dish soap away from your hands and sloppily dry them against the bottom of your shirt, grumbling out loud about how you really should stop coming here whenever the fuck you want, eita while you stomp over to the front door.

you open the door, messy hair and bare face and baggy clothes, fully expecting to smack some sense into otoya eita when you feel yourself freeze up at the pair of eyes looking back at you.

they’re teal and framed by pretty long lashes and definitely don’t belong to your best friend.

what the fuck is he doing here?

this is one of the rare times that you’d actually prefer to see eita at your front door instead.

sae raises a brow, giving you a once-over. of course, he’s never seen you in this state—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, not a trace of makeup on your face. you’d made sure that whenever there was a possibility that sae would see you that you dressed yourself up as nice as possible. if you’d known he was coming over, you’d have at least dressed decently. definitely not baggy shirt and pants that you can barely see.

“uh… w-what are you doing here?” stupid, but the best you can manage.

he has his hands in his gray sweat pockets, and fuck him for wearing a black compression top. you can just make out the outline of his abs under there, the muscles on his arms already much too obvious with those short sleeves.

“dunno, eita said there was an emergency and i needed to get here,” sae says, wholly unbothered, monotonous as usual. he lets himself in, toeing his shoes off at the entryway, positioning them neatly beside your everyday sneakers.

fucking eita.

judging by what you know, sae was probably on his way for an evening jog when otoya called him. he still has his wireless earbuds in. you wonder if anything’s even playing.

sae takes it off once he catches you staring.

he’s not carrying anything. it’s just him. you wonder if anyone managed to catch him coming over. is his most recent pr stunt already over? won’t do either of you any good if he’s labeled as a cheater.

“so? what is it?” sae asks you, again, while he walks himself inside, curious eyes looking around your apartment, and suddenly you’re hyper aware. you hope to god you didn’t leave any of your inner wear lying around at random places.

in a panic, you rush over to him, blocking his path inside, both hands on his chest as you attempt to push him back to the front door. unfortunately for you, sae’s much stronger than you are, his body not budging an inch.

“it’s nothing, he made a mistake,” you sigh, giving up when you figure that sae’s only going to move of his own accord. “he’s probably just playing a prank on you, that’s all.”

you’re hoping, praying, wishing that sae will just take your word for it and go. because that’s what he does; he doesn’t hover much, doesn’t care about anything much at all. you don’t even know the last time he’s asked about how any of your lives are doing.

the world must hate you though, because sae only offers a grunt in response before looking towards your kitchen (you’re internally sighing in relief, glad that you cleaned your kitchen up before this). “i’m thirsty, you have anything to drink?”

you blink at him, stumped that sae is wasting his precious time in your apartment, but who are you to say no to sae, of all people?

“yeah, sure, juice?”

sae shrugs, “whatever.”

you turn your back on him, slowly taking your carton of apple juice and finding the nicest glass that exists in your cupboard, cursing yourself internally for not preparing for unexpected guests enough. you do this slowly partly because you’re trying to calm your stupid heart down, still not fathoming why on earth sae’s wasting his time with you.

carefully, you rehearse yourself in your head, where you’re going to step, how you’re going to walk over to him—you really are just hopeless. count it your bad luck that the moment you turn around, you nearly drop the glass because you’re forgetting a really fundamental issue here: your merch.

“no no no, uh—” you leave the glass on the countertop, scurrying over to where sae’s staring and thumbing at something on your coffee table.

sae looks at your flustered reaction, giving you way to grab your things off the table and stuff them in the drawer where they’re out of sight. he blinks at you, a slight amusement bubbling inside him.

“wow, big fan, huh?”

you don’t know what’s worse: you being your most unpresentable self right now or that sae just caught you having some of his merch.

“so you have some of eita’s merch lying around too or is it just mine?”

you could die of embarrassment right now.

back still turned to sae, you desperately search your brain for answers. thinking on the spot doesn’t seem like your strong suit right now.

“it… was a gift.” believable, right?

sae hums, as though he’s contemplating. “why just mine then? why not oliver’s or my brother’s?”

fuck.

“i don’t know, maybe yours was the only one that wasn’t sold out.”

“ouch.”

you didn’t mean to indirectly insult him but what’s a drowning girl to do?

sae sighs when you keep quiet, still staying out where you are, trembling too much to move. “didn’t know you were in love with me.”

this time, you whip your head around to face him—that same stoic expression of his unchanging on his face. “am not!”

his brows shoot up. “but you bought some of my merch.”

“i told you, it was a gift.”

you need to get paid for still standing up on your own two feet right now. your head’s way too giddy from the interaction, considering.

“even that figurine over there?” sae’s finger points to a small toy just barely visible behind the nooks of the bookshelf. it’s a small figurine; something sold a few years back when sae was just first starting out. you’d bought it because, well, you’d thought chibi sae looked cuter than actual sae. (especially now when he’s just staring blankly at you.)

“that was…”

“a gift?”

you think he’s making fun of you now at this point.

“anyway, we’ve established that there’s no emergency here so why don’t you just go?” you’re pretty sure sae won’t ever talk to you again—not after coming across what he did tonight. he probably thinks you’re a freak, probably questions why he even considers you his friend (to which you’re now wondering if that’s even true at all).

you make a mental reminder to yourself to kill otoya eita tomorrow.

sae lets you push him towards the entryway, apple juice long forgotten on the countertop, collecting condensation with water pooling below the glass.

“you must like me a lot, huh?” he ponders out loud as you continue pushing him towards the door. you see a hint of cockiness in his stare now, the slightest tug of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“i do n—”

“be careful what you say,” sae cuts you off, toeing his shoes back on, looking glamorous as ever and you nearly forget that he looks straight out of a magazine even in his sportswear. “‘cause i’ll believe you.”

part of you wants him to just go already so your knees can buckle under, but part of you wants to ask him what he means. what’s he insinuating? isn’t the answer clear enough.

but now it’s way past nine and he’s all ready to go yet he’s still standing at your doorway, waiting for your answer. you want to scream no, you want to keep your secret safe, you don’t want him to know about the crush you’d been harbouring. but he told you to be careful what you say because he’ll believe you.

“s-so what if i do?” you stutter, failing to look him in the eyes, your stare focused on the air in between you.

sae’s features soften ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to give in so quickly, but it isn’t one of disgust. it’s more like one of pleasant surprise.

after what seems like an eternity, sae finally opens his mouth.

“you must’ve gotten jealous a lot with all those girls i’d gone out with.”

your fist instinctively connect with his arm, his stoic finally giving way to a grimace, palm rubbing his triceps in pain. out of all the things to say, he chooses to say that? you think he deserves it.

“you know what, sae? you can go back to your fake girlfriends, i could care less,” you snap at him, pouting. you hate that despite how ignorant his words are that you can’t find it in yourself to hate him.

sae exhales sharply, chuckling softly when he sees your pout, and you feel as though it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this even though it’s not. his hand comes up to ruffle the top of your head gently, and you’re reminded of when he did this to you back in high school.

“can’t do that, can i?” he tells you, that soft disposition gone and the stoic mischief coming right back. “not when i’m in front of who could be my real girlfriend.”

your heart might’ve forgotten how to beat.

sae leaves you standing there, left to your own devices as he exits your apartment, fully aware of his effect on you.

not long after he leaves (while you’re still standing in the doorway), your phone buzzes in your pocket. you fish it out and see his name there for the first time in a long time.

you smile to yourself as you read his message. okay, so maybe you’ll spare eita’s life for now.

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

You're eating breakfast peaceful (are you?) and Heaven is a big mess

In pieces

Chapter 1 < Chapter 2> Chapter 3

Heaven was a big mess. 

Nothing new. 

Since you’re gone Emily feels all the pressure that was on you. All your responsibility was handed to her like a silver tablet with no refund. 

It was exhausting. And it didn’t help that Sera was also a big mess. 

She never left Emily’s side, almost like a guard dog. 

She lost her daughter because of her dirty little lies. And is scared that Emily would leave her too.

The arch angels aren’t pleased for her doing. She’s not God.

Her Image now like a Hurricanes aftermath.

No one wants to deal with her not even her own daughter Emily. 

Emily was very distant towards Sera. She doesn’t want to be near her, not after what she has done.

Your Mother sent Emily away when you fell. 

She couldn’t be there for you. She wasn’t there when the most painful thing happened to you. 

She felt ashamed, like a failure. 

You always protect her from the vicious laws of heaven. Sometimes even taking her punishments to protect her. 

And when you needed her the most, she wasn’t there. 

She can’t deny that it’s probably her fault that you fell. Taking all her misleads and getting you into trouble after trouble.

So that she can be safe. 

Talking back towards Sera in the court was the final straw. 

Sera could’ve talked to them, but she didn’t. 

She agreed because of her Image. 

To Sera’s surprise, the upper angels weren’t Impressed.

It didn't help at all.

Not even the winners want to talk with her anymore.

…

Lucifer couldn’t believe his eyes. 

You were awake! 

But not in the state he’d hoped. You were covered in your own blood and the floor was all a mess.  Ceramic was soaked in with the golden color of your blood. 

“What happened?” You didn’t answer. 

Somehow, he knew you wouldn’t answer. Falling from heaven can be quite traumatizing. He talks out of experience.

You couldn’t even keep your wings like he did, the pain must be unbearable. You were definitely not used having no wings anymore. 

You were hiding behind a Blanket, Lucifer found it quite cute and adorable how you were hiding from him. 

But it also hurt him.

Ache.

“Are you hurt?” Lucifer asked you, not wanting to scare you away. You slowly peaked above the blanket. You have to say he is quite handsome. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

The handsome man looked at you and sighed. “I helped you when you fell out of heaven. You’ve been out for a couple of days. I can help you, please let me help.” 

“Why?” Your mere whispers made his heart squeeze. 

He couldn’t find an answer to your question. 

Was he helping you because he knows how it is? 

To get thrown out of your home, getting ripped apart from the elders. Family not even sparing a glance at you. But there was something else why, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I know how you feel, let me help you.” You nod, you don’t have anything to lose. 

You already fell from heaven and live now in hell. Getting thrown right infront of the bus. 

Letting the Blanket fall from your back showing the man your fresh back wound. 

“Again, the back?” He chuckled, “By the way, the name’s Lucifer.” The name rang in your ear. “The Lucifer?” your voice is kind of soar. 

He snapped his fingers and with a sparkling sound a cup of water formed infront of you. Muttering a small thanks, you grabbed the cup pf water and let it slide down your throat. You hummed in approval. 

“I’m Y/n.” His hands hover over your back and he pulled the ceramic pieces slowly out of your back.

“That’s a beautiful name, Y/n.” Your name out of his mouth felt like sweet caramel. You wanted him to say your name again and again.

You smiled a bit and winced at him removing the splinters. After he pulled the last pieces out, he hovered his hand again over your back.

This time his hands started to glow in gold. His hands radiant heat, it was like a warm summer breeze. 

After a while the feeling stopped, you turned around to take a look at Lucifer. 

“You’re Lucifer?” He nods but didn’t look you in the eyes, he felt ashamed somehow. “Indeed I am.” He finally looks back at you and you beamed a smile at him. 

“You don’t look creepy at all.” That surprised him and he blushed slightly at your sudden forwardness. 

“You should rest. We’re going to talk tomorrow.” He patted your head and walked towards the exit. Giving you a final smile, he went back to his couch. 

You sighed and laid down on the lightly soaked blooded mattress. “I should at least try to sleep.”

…

You didn’t sleep well that night. 

Your back was still hurting even after the treatment Lucifer gave you. 

The blood still sticked on your skin making it quite uncomfortable to stand up. You have to take a shower.

The red Sun lighted the room red. A quick reminder that you indeed are in hell. In comparison to heaven was Hell rather cozy. It was warm and more colorful, even though the colors are very vibrant or dark. 

It was exciting. 

It’s been so long since you felt that kind of Emotions. 

Everything in heaven was the same. You must do the same and be like everyone else. You have to work 24/7, and work 9 to 5 or even worse. Not even a single break, not even for you a Seraphim. 

You worked over night almost every day for your Mother Sera. It pained you when you saw her chilling the while day and Emily flying and playing around heaven. It is your responsibility as the bigger Sister. 

Well, was to be exact.

A knock echoed through the silent chamber making you snap out of your thoughts.

A couple seconds later Lucifer came through the door. Peering inside to see if you’re awake.

“I made you some pancakes.” Lucifer nudges his sharp clawed finger into the direction of the kitchen. 

On a table you see a plate with pancakes, Ice cream and a cup of hot chocolate. He sat down on the mattress. 

His pants started to soak in the semi fresh golden blood. He shrieked and sat up looking at his pants. 

“Are you still bleeding?” He franticly searched for any Injuries on your back. “I’m fine. It’s just the blood that spilled on the bed. Sorry for that.” He let out a sigh of relief, “Let me change the Mattress.” 

He held out a hand for you to take. With hesitation you took his clawed hand. With a pull he pushed you upwards, you gasp at how fast he was moving you. 

Your legs felt like jelly, your head started to spin, and it started to get dizzy. He held you tight before you could fell. “I got you.”

Without any second thought Lucifer carried you towards the kitchen. Your cheeks redden at this behavior. 

His touch was striking you like a lightning bolt. It was a warm comforting feeling. His Arm around your waist left a tingling almost sparkling feeling. The feeling almost made you smile like a fool. 

“Thanks.” It was a mere whisper, but Lucifer heard it very clear. The weird feeling on his arm was distracting him immense, though your voice brought him back out of his thoughts. And he smiled.

Lucifer realized how long he was actually holding your waist. Retrieving his Arm rather quickly he coughed out of distraction.  “Just sit over there.”

“Lucifer?” He hummed and looked at you, the way he chewed the food made you giggle slightly.

You smelled pretty bad. You didn’t want to ask him if you could take a shower, but you have to take a shower. His gentle gaze took your worries away and made her ten times more nervous. 

“Can I take a shower?” Lucifer nods hesitant. “Of course, you can.” He laid down his food and took your hands and walked slowly towards his bathroom. 

… Time skip…

The Shower was very relaxing, even though it was kind of creepy to know that Lucifer was waiting behind the door. 

The food was hellish good, heaven could never. 

In heaven it all tasted the same, very blunt and no emotions in it.  

Lucifer took your plate and cramped his sleeves up to wash your plate. You followed his swift movements and how smooth he washes them. 

It amazed you somehow, washing dishes isn’t something Interesting but how he washes them is just different. 

Then you saw it, his mark. Suspicious Identical like yours. Please no. 

Somewhere in Heaven:

Sera sat Infront of a U-shaped table looking up at none other than the arch Angels themselves. “Sera.” A rather deep voice said making her jolt in her seat.

“Michael.”

A/n: I know this chapter is kind of boring but trust me. It’s going to be good.

[strawbeelemonade]

Imagine: Being Miles Morales’ best friend but also your a bit insane

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_

🕷- Miles used to be so scared of you

🕷 - Even before you started a mutual friendship you sorta just…. kept appearing.

🕷 - He wasn’t sure when he became desensitised to you. but he likes to think his new double life of being a crime fighting upstart has given him a bit of a tolorence.

🕷 - Miles will now watch you eat an apple from the top down, core, stem and all, and literally not say anything.

🕷 - Your so consistently insane in such a harmless way, it’s kinda nice.

🕷 - He wishes you would stop picking up wild animals, though.

🕷 - Seriously stop. at least one of them will have a fatal disease.

🕷 - You keep venturing into the underground subway to play with the New York rats. Nothing bad has happened yet but that doesn’t mean nothing will.

🕷 - Don’t get me wrong. Miles isn’t overprotective or anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still worry. Your one of his closest friends.

🕷 - He’s not sure what he’d do without you.

🕷 - So please take the rat out of your jacket pocket. Please.

🕷 - Oh but it’s so cute!!

🕷 - You are Cinderella actually.

🕷 - Miles stumbles across you as his spider-sona surprisingly often.

🕷 - Not always when your doing something illegal, so he kinda forms this double friendship with you.

🕷 - It’s hard because he forgets your not supposed to know who he is!!

🕷 - He keeps forgetting to deepen his voice and act macho. You just make him relax so easily.

🕷 - I like to think His powers are particularly in tune with body language, even if he doesn’t mean or want to. And it can become so incredibly exhausting. all the extra information and interference is unrelenting unless he’s completely alone or has his headphones on.

🕷 - But you’re different. You let Everything rest on the surface. You say what you think, and miles found after a couple of months of knowing you that you’re actually more deep thinking then you like to let anyone realise.

🕷 - Your completely willing to sit in total silence with him. It’s so relaxing.

🕷 - The closer you both get the more he starts to see that you are actually a total sweetheart.

🕷 - You remember little things about him, your willing to go through great lengths for him. He knows that no matter where the both of you are or what your doing, you are ready to drop anything and everything to come to him if he needs you.

🕷 - He doesn’t demand it from you, but…

🕷 - You show up outside his dorm window at 3am all on your own ok?!

🕷 - He just mentioned he was having trouble sleeping!!! It’s not his fault!!! … but he’s not complaining either.

🕷 - So yeah, you put him at ease.

🕷 - Which is why it comes to no one’s surprise except miles when you bust him within the first two weeks.

🕷 - It scared the shit out of him. The next time you saw him as spider man you were like “Yo, Miles”.

🕷 - Y/N PLEASE.

🕷 - He asks you how you found him out, And you laugh and claim his mask made him look like he’s bad at Spanish. He socks you in the shoulder and you laugh harder.

🕷 - He then timidly asks if you’ve said anything to anyone.

🕷 - You tell him you don’t have deep enough conversations with anyone else TO tell.

🕷 - He understands what your trying to say.

🕷 - It’s actually a lovely little moment.

🕷 - As Spider-Man, he’s gotten to know an even crazier side to you. The fact that that was possible scared him a bit.

🕷 - Miles always wondered what you would get up to when he wasn’t around. You would disappear for hours, even days at a time. But you’d always come back.

🕷 - You were like an outdoor cat lmao.

🕷 - Turns out your a bit of an adrenaline junky.

🕷 - “Y/n this is a 7 story building and there’s no stairs how are you up here.”

🕷 - You liked feeding the pigeons… which was… yeah. Ok, fine.

🕷 - Miles wasn’t sure how his parents would react to you. He wasn’t ASHAMED but… Was he worried? Definetely.

🕷 - His dad is a COP.

🕷 - When He gets home from a couple hours of patrolling New York after school he has a heart attack when he sees you sitting on the couch nursing a drink while chatting to his mom.

🕷 - Your not fake, your still you. but you make a conscious decision not to pull out the rat in your pocket until you both head to his room to hang out.

🕷 - He’s much more emotional then he likes to make himself out to be. He’s still trying to figure himself out, He’s still only 14 after all.

🕷 - So hearing you drop deep emotional wisdom at 2 in the morning is a fucking EXPERIENCE.

🕷 - The deep conversations you have (and, now that he’s thinking about it the meaningless ones as well) feel like precious moments. They leave a lasting affect on him, your presence makes him feel safe.

🕷 - He’s not sure how to say all that out loud though.

🕷 - He doesn’t have to. you already know.

🕷 - His parents are happy to know that he’s made you as a friend. No matter how much or little they really know about you, anyone with eyes and two working ears can tell that your a good kid.

🕷 - You probably end up in the hospital a lot.

🕷 - Like a lot a lot. You are in so many wrong places at so many wrong times…

🕷 - An arm in a cast is considered a small case when it comes to you.

🕷 - Miles wonders how your still even alive this point!

🕷 - foreshadowing

🕷 - After you become more acquainted with miles’ family, you start getting visits from them!

🕷 - Especially If you don’t have any stable adult figures in your life.

🕷 - You get in a lot of accidents and fights. And it starts getting worrying. You don’t go looking for any trouble but you don’t let the criminal population of New York stop you from venturing out at night, either.

🕷 - In the waiting room Your all smiles and laughs. Nothing fazes you it seems, even under extreme amounts of pain. so it makes them relax a bit.

🕷 - But they are MUCH more willing to let you practically walk in and out of their house whenever you need a Homebase to fall back on.

🕷 - Mr. Davis does NOT enjoy getting called out late at night over a complaint of a homeless person loitering on a bench and it’s literally just you.

🕷 - What are you doing out here young lady/man/ster.

🕷 - Sorry sir I missed my bus

🕷 - But why were you sleeping outside!

🕷 - Eepy.

🕷 - Let them help you please you don’t have to do things on your own.

🕷 - You’ve only gotten lucky enough to be attacked a handful of times.

🕷 - But when the opportunity arises you are so ready.

🕷 - Remember how I said you were crazy in a harmless way? Forget I said that.

🕷 - Miles has literally watched you rip an old (albeit loose) stop sign out of the ground and beat a mugger over the head with it.

🕷 - He was not ready.

🕷 - You don’t even have any powers that he knows of. No super strength or healing. No heightened senses to protect you.

🕷 - Miles is in awe of you sometimes.

🕷 - he’s saved you from trouble a

Handful of times.

🕷 - you’ve literally got Spiderman looking out for you.

🕷 - If anything happens to you

He will freak the hell out.

🕷 - you might end up being room

-mates at his new school

🕷 - No matter how low he’s feeling he knows that you’ll find a way to make him smile.

🕷 - You find the craziest things to do, there’s no where you’re not willing to venture and there’s nothing your not willing to play with.

🕷 - Unfortunately Miles suffers from the terrible ailment of being a teenager 💔 (and also occasionally having terrible bouts of anxiety)

🕷 - often times he just feels so painfully uncool. He catches himself asking if he’s really cut out for this life. Not just about being the next Spider-Man, but also in the the-American-dream-is-not-real-and-I-don’t-have-a-future kind of way. He worries if he’s failing underneath the weight of his burdens. That he’s a loser.

🕷 - But you don’t let him feel that way when your around.

🕷 - You make him feel like he’s cool. You make him feel like he’s funny. like he’s the most interesting person in the world, your so unshakably and enthusiastically invested in him and his successes!

🕷 - You celebrate with him when he wins small fights. When he saves people. When he gets higher grades on exams.

🕷 - He doesn’t feel insecure standing next to you, even when your personality is as chaotic as it is.

🕷 - Miles isn’t sure sure how he got so lucky to have met you. He doesn’t realise you feel the same about him.

_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

[pia-nor481]

Oscar Piastri NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

Always cuddles, whether she's resting on his chest or him on hers. I definitely see him being lazy afterwards and is all "do we have to get up, it's so comfortable" but he knows better and does so with a groan.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

He actually really likes his cock. Not overly sure why but just does. But also his hands, they can do a lot.

I don’t think there’s one part of his partner that he doesn’t like. But he like boobs. Always has and always will. Seeing them is a pretty bra just gets him off. But he will always have an appreciation for ass.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

Oscar likes things MESSY. He will happily cum absolutely anywhere, and he comes a lot. Also taking into consideration Australia's circumcision rate of 10-20% (depending on where you look) I reckon he isn't, and so is very sensitive, so it's quite easy to make him cum.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he might really like the idea of someone watching, he’s a bit of a voyeur. Not many would believe he’s so fantastic in bed. So he’s like someone else to see and say so. Not that her body language doesn’t tell him that. He’s a bit of a show off at times. But it’s always hot.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

Not very, but he's so willing to learn!! He wants to make her cum because she deserves. If he eats her out he doesn't expect anything back, but he'd never complain. I think he likes to do research and wants to try it out, so immediately he's telling her about this thing and he's all giddy.

F- Favourite position

Oscar loves so many positions!!! He really likes straddling positions where she's on top; any variation of cowgirl or where she's sat in his lap. But he also likes to be on top;any variation of missionary, but in particular when she has her legs around his waist and hands in his hair.

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

Definitely a mix of both. There's definitely times where nothing arousing or particularly intimate has occurred yet he really wants sex. Or times where they could have a pretty normal conversation while getting railed. But he like more serious sex too- he likes to focus on pleasure-not just cumming.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

I think Oscar's hair is the same colour. But I think he's very well groomed, although he's okay with mess (have you seen his drivers room?) I think this would be something he's quite picky about. Always trimmed to a nice length. Have you seen his happy trail? I think he’d be a little scared of razor burn (probably happened once and was suffering) so avoids them like the plague, unless she offers for him when in the shower ;)

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I’m lead to believe he’s very romantic, he wants to show her how passionate he is. He loves her with all of his heart, and what better way to show that than pleasure. He knows that the build up to an orgasm is just as fun as the final climax so he isn’t always desperate to cum.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In my mind he doesn’t masturbate often, but when he does he likes to tease. He uses such light pressure that he can’t get anywhere close to cumming. Or he’s so desperate that his main focus is the head, he just rubbing an open palm against the tip, moaning while is eyes roll back. However he doesn’t like to Jack off, he’d prefer her hand or mouth.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Switch- if it wasn’t made obvious I think he’s the perfect example of a switch. He’s equally as submissive as dominate, and it makes for a really good sex life. With his dominance, I think it comes mainly position and instruction; there will be times where he just picks her up by the waist, places her on the nearest surface and just fucks her brainless

Bottoming- is this even a kink? Well it’s here now. I think this came about from his little research moment, he saw a lot about how much pleasuring the g-spot could heighten his orgasm and practically begged for it.

Temperature play- I think ties into a fondness for toys. But also, now hear me out, when he’s getting a bj and there’s lots of spit on his cock, he likes when she blows air onto it, giving a cooling sensation.

Voice/sound- he loves when there’s some kind of music playing, but he also loves just hearing her voice, maybe it’s because he likes being told what to do.

Praise/degradation- this can be read in the context of either dom or sub. But he’s loves degradation with a mix of praise. “Such a slut, so good for me.” Praise him because he derives it!! But call him a slut for looking at lando like that. Oscar loves to give praise after sex, sweet nothings and pillow talk is his specialty if he’s coherent.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I’m going to have to be basic in saying the bedroom. However not just the bed. Say you’re picking out some clothes from the wardrobe, if you’re trying things on, you should know it’s not long until you’re being pushed up against the door.

Round two in the shower are a must.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

He really likes dirty talk, but the subtle kind. Or if you whisper in his ear out in public “I can’t wait to get home and have your cock in my mouth” he’s already semi hard. “I think it’s time we leave”

Lingerie- I imagine him to really like baby dolls or really pretty/ intricate bras and panties.

N- No (what turns them off)

CNC-he can’t see the appeal of it.

Spanking- I’m talking more about 5+ with the intention of it really hurting/being a punishment. He definitely likes to tap her ass. But not leave it so red and sore that she can’t sit.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

I think he may slightly prefer giving. Just seeing the pleasure he can give with his tongue/hands. He’s very skilled in eyes, I think that he’s desperate to please and so found different techniques to see what would work best. Oscar *fuck me eyes* Piastri like to be on his knees while you ride his face. However, when he sees how enthusiastic she is about blowing him, how can he say no?

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

He definitely prefers slow and sensual, but he does like it rough from time to time. He knows variety is super important and is very willing to give that. I think post race win!Oscar definitely likes hardcore, he feels like he deserves it.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I think he can see the appeal and is quite happy that he can cum pretty fast, the risk of it is nice so he does enjoy them. But he would definitely prefer hours long to have his way with you.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He loves to experiment. He knows to switch up his technique every so often, switching from deep thrusting to short and shallow. The following week maybe he tries to milk her g-spot. He will always keep it interesting

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

I believe he can go for quite a few rounds but he has a long refractory period. You have to wait quite a few minutes to even dare to touch his cock after cumming. But it will take him a while to cum again. But he’s easy to overstimulate

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

Absolutely loves them!! His personal favourite are vibrators. He loves using them on her, as well as on himself. If he was really spending the whole night focusing on her, his mouth and hands will need a break. So he’s ready to get out a rabbit or a wand. He might like handcuffs but it can be a spur of the moment thing, even if he’s in control. The first time he used one (a vibe) on himself he came in under five minutes, and overstimmed himself. He didn’t focus on the shaft enough. But he later realised to use a slow vibration and apply less pressure. His favourite dildo is 6-inches btw.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He loves being teased but not edged. When he wants to cum he should be allowed to!! Or he’ll pout. Slowing down while blowing him is one of his favourite things. But he also loves to tease back. He’s NOT all talk. He’ll make you wait for hours before you’re allowed to cum. Only kissing around your cunt. Or just twisting/sucking your nipples. But you won’t cum. Foreplay is a favourite of his.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

When dimming he’s not quiet, but not loud. He’s definitely making noises. He groans and had a very low moan. But the more he cums the higher and louder the moans become. He’s very breathy if that makes sense.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

He really loves flavoured lube. He’s got all of the fruity ones in the bedside table. He just thinks it’s nice to spice it up as lube isn’t just used on his cock or her cunt. Yes he does like whipped cream and sweet sauces, so he cheats on his diet quite often.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Definitely more thick. Although I can imagine 6/7 inches I’m not sure why.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not very, he just gets very caught up in the moment. So one day he’ll be begging for hours on end for pleasure as if he didn’t have morning sex or didn’t bend her over the sofa two hours ago. Other days he just doesn’t feel like cumming at all. But if you asked he’d definitely eat you out, or grab one of the many toys scattered around his messy room. Overall some days are 0/10 others 10/10

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Oscar Piastri sleepy boy confirmed. He loves his sleep so much, so pretty quick; especially it was very sensual and romantic. But if the sex was more rough I think the adrenaline would keep him up for quite a while.

Help why is he so pale. Like you’re from Australia babe, how are you as white as me. (I’ve not stepped foot in the sun for 3 years.)

[jhugas]

‘BE A GOOD GIRL’- Jeon Jungkook

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Genre: smut

Pairing: gamer! Bf! Jungkook X afab! Reader

Summary: You decide to try cock warming while he plays a game, but it doesn’t go as planned…

Word count: ~1k

Warnings/tags: cock warming, teasing, praising, restriction (f cums when he wants to), penetration, lil aftercare.

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Jungkook, your boyfriend, is a famous streamer. That means, he plays a lot of video games, and very often. Usually, it wasn’t a problem. But sometimes, he was too much into the games and wouldn’t give you any attention.

In the end, you’d just sulk and he’d always come talk to you again. But today, you wanted to do something different…

You always wanted to try cock warming. So today, you’re planning on cock warming him while he plays on his ps5.

You watch him as he’s concentrated on his gameplay and talking to his friends.

Then, you gather your confidence and decide to finally make your move and get closer to him. But with his gamer headset, he cannot hear you. Though it didn’t take long for him to notice you standing behind his expensive gaming chair, thanks to his screen’s reflection.

Standing there, you slide your hands down his torso and give him a kiss on his neck. And when he felt your soft lips against his sweet neck, he smiled and rose his eyebrows to ask you what you’re doing, before taking off his headset.

‘you know what I wanna try?’

You ask him.

‘What?’

He says amused, looking at you and the screen back and forth.

‘I wanna try cock warming.’

You say confidently. You were a bit scared of his reaction, but you knew he was usually open to try new stuff so you knew it’d be fine. After hearing your confession, his eyes widen in shock as he mutes his mic immediately.

‘Baby everyone could hear you!’

He sighs.

‘When? When do you want to do that?’

He finally asks, curious since he’s never done that.

‘Now. Just keep playing the game I’ll sit on it.’

You answer. He slowly nods before fully consenting to it and takes his pants and boxers off in one go. Quickly, he comes back to the game as he was afk for too long, and since his teammates were yelling at him, he had no other choice but to unmute his mic and insult them back.

While he insulted his friends, you had the time to take off your pants and panties. Then, you look at his tall, thick and veiny cock standing on its own. He was already hard and it couldn’t look better.

‘You stupid!! Behind yo-‘

He yelled before feeling your warm walls surrounding around his cock. He keeps cursing under his breath and gets one of his hands off of the controller, to grab your hips.

You, relaxed, let your back fall on his chest, then, you let your head fall back on his shoulder and you close your eyes to feel every inch of him. You can feel his hot breath on your neck, and you can feel him holding himself back from thrusting into you.

‘You alright?’

His friends ask.

‘Yeah yeah…’

Your boyfriend lies, he clearly couldn’t handle being in you without doing anything. The more time passed, the harder he got.

And to tease him even more, you decide to move a little bit, bend over, and slightly jump when he kills.

‘Fuck…’

He whispers, then act like everything is normal after his friends ask him what’s wrong. Later, since you see him struggling and you want to please him, you decide to give him a chance to fuck you. You get closer to his ear.

‘Win the game and I’ll jump on it.’

You tell him. You words motivate him and he starts playing way more seriously. He doesn’t let anyone touch him and kills them all.

You occasionally praising him with ‘good boy’ or ‘good job’.

Once it was only him and another player on the game, he went on full try hard mode. He loved the adrenaline.

But it didn’t last long since he saw the other player, and killed him in a second. ‘Top #1’ appearing on the screen. He’s happy that he won but is even happier about what’s going to happen.

He throws the controller on the bed, mutes again his mic and grabs firmly your hips. Hands sliding to your ass from times to times.

You start jumping on him easily thanks to your wetness and his pre-cum, as he moans in relief. All you can hear now is the sound of your ass slapping against his hips, the wet sound of your pre-cum mixing together, and your moans.

Every time he lets you take the lead while making love it always reminds you of when he came late from work, tired, and he’d just beg you to fuck him or suck him off. It was one of the few times he let you take the lead, or be a top.

You do your best to fuck him good. You go deep, then fast, then aggressive, then slow…

The game was still on and Jungkook’s friends were still calling for him. So loudly that you could hear them even without having the headset on. But he didn’t care, he was too busy and you were his priority.

Suddenly, you feel like your orgasm approaching and making you weaker. Consequently, you’re getting more sloppy.

But he feels it and with his hands already on your hips, he helps you jump up and down on it and guides you to rock your hips against his.

‘I- I’m gonna cu-cum!’

You cry out. Your walls clenching around his thick cock.

‘Hold it. Be a good girl and only cum when I tell you to.’

He says in a deep voice.

‘O-okay!’

So you do your best to not disappoint your lovely boyfriend, and do your best to not cum. His moans get louder and harmonize with yours. He also gets more and more aggressive, faster, and keeps on hitting your sweet spot, like usual. But it doesn’t take long for him to reach his highest point.

Then suddenly, a long moan slips off in between his lips as he fills you up. Painting your walls with his white semen. He throws his head back and breathes heavily.

‘Now… cum for me baby girl.’

He says, tired but he still gathers his energy to give you his best performance. Without any surprise, in less than a minute you find yourself cumming all over his cock. Your juice mixing up with his, and as you get off of him, it slides down on Jungkook’s dick.

You still go back on his lap then to kiss him lazily but passionately, whispering sweet words to each other.

‘Good girl. You did a good job today.’

He whispers with his lips against yours.

Then, later, after bringing you to the toilet, he played two last games with you napping on his lap, your head on his shoulder and arms around him. Then after, he lifted you up and brought you to your bed, and let you sleep until he finished cooking dinner.

Thank you for reading! Likes are veryyyy appreciated, but be aware that reblogs and comments truly help the writes get more exposure<3 thank you!

Masterlist

[iamnotokaythx]

hello! first post on this blog. how lovely! i’m not normal about miguel o’hara. specifically yandere miguel. i wrote some hcs. theres also what i believe is called a drabble down there.

warning: not proofread, lowercase, kidnapping (twice), mentions of miguels past, hcs in no particular order, sfw surprisingly, descriptive + gory threats directed at a random person, miguel is paranoid, reader is gender neutral but masculine, i haven’t watched the movie yet, i used that spanishdict.com website but i am not a native speaker so help is appreciated, lmk if i missed anything

—

i respect everyone’s headcanons very much but imo: y’all got yandere miguel SO terribly wrong. he is a stoic, violent asshole, yes, but think logically!!! would this man, who watched his wife and kid die, ever hurt the object of his love? /lh

i think he’d probably treat you like glass no matter how much you insist that you’re capable of autonomy and he’d try to have the patience of a saint, but it can run thin.

if he gets severely pissed off, expect furniture to be thrown and screaming to ensue—but one look at your fearful eyes, all watery as he backs you into a corner, it makes him melt and cradle you in his arms. he cares for you so, so much and would never want to scare you.

miguel is kidnapping you. absolutely no doubt about it. he can’t trust you to be in other dimensions where so many things could go wrong, where it could collapse or you could be caught in the crossfire of a canon event or—no. no, you have to stay with him, where he can watch out for you at all times. i think if you retaliated, all he’d do is restrain you in an inescapable hug and sink his fangs into your neck, putting just enough venom to make you sleep for a little. he apologizes profusely once you come to… but he doesn’t mean it. he’s sorry to hurt you, sure, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe. with him.

miguel has no qualms about hurting anyone else, though! barista seems just a little too gregarious? miguel’s talons spring from the pads of his fingers as he taps his fingers on the table. he smiles at you. it’s a warning. ‘i could kill them, you know.’ he says with his eyes. ‘right now, if i wanted to, i could rake my claws across their throat. i could pick you up and run out before anyone else caught me. before they’d even get a chance to fall to the ground dead.’ his gaze flickers to the door. he runs his tongue across his fangs. ‘or i could bite them. shoot venom all inside their bloodstream. they wouldn’t pass out like when i did it to you, they’d die. they’d die painfully and slowly, their body shutting off as the pain made them wish it happened faster. all because they were smiling at you just a little too long.’ his eyes shine with mirth. he thinks it’s all a joke. you decide to put and end to his cruel mocking by standing up abruptly, grabbing his hand, and dragging him towards a different table far away from the poor barista.

at home, he’s affectionate. so saccharinely affectionate. he doesn’t—won’t respond to his name, you have to call him some nickname or pet name or something. “miggy.” “guel.” those are accepted, but he cracks a genuine smile whenever you call him by something corny and sweet like “baby” or “love.” he’s more likely to comply to a request if you call him a pet name, but he allows you some freedoms at the least. internet: heavily monitored, only when he’s with you. tv and video games are fine, as long as they’re only local co-op or singleplayer. you’re only allowed a phone so you can text him if you need him.

he nearly always finds time for you. as soon as he’s home, he’s attached to you like a lifeline. his touch never leave your body—he’s always holding your hand or waist or kissing you from behind and murmuring words into your ear. “mi cariño, i missed you at work. i’m tired, hermoso, please can we go lay down for a little?” he’ll ask. you’ll comply, if you want, and subject yourself to being smothered in his arms for 1-3 hours while he cuddles up with you and sleeps, but if not then he’ll whine until you let him lay his head down on your lap as you watch tv and ignore him. he so desperately craves the domestic affection he once had with his family.

speaking of ignoring him, please don’t. he’ll go insane. before the first day’s up, he’ll beg you for as much as a glance towards him, even if it’s a scornful glare it means you’re functional. he’ll become more and more desperate, clinging to you and your every word, movement, and nonverbal communication. after a long time—maybe a week, if he can stand it, he’ll cry into your chest until you explain what it is you want. at that point, he’d be willing to do almost anything just for that never to happen again.

…almost anything.

(okay i’m gonna be real. i don’t know the difference between a fic or a drabble. i assume what follows is a drabble)

he wouldn’t let you leave, it’s too dangerous. you somehow managed to escape, and he tracked you down in a panic-induced frenzy. as soon as he wrapped you back in his arms, you realize you’ve seriously fucked up. he’s silent on the way back home and even silent until the next day. you wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and you find him in the kitchen. he acts like nothing happened at all, but begins a rather unsettling spiel as you eat.

“i did some thinking. i realized… it’s just not safe for you here!” he says slowly, circling you as you stared at the sizzling food in front of you. you don’t know if you should eat or not. his hands snake up to your shoulders, giving you a gentle back rub. “so i’ve decided we need to move. somewhere where you’re safe, you know?” miguel evidently noticed you hesitation to eat. “something wrong with the food, amor? i made it just for you. at least try some.”

you decide not to eat. you make a lame excuse about not being hungry. his hands tighten around your shoulders and then just as abruptly leave your skin. “you mind telling me why you won’t eat?” he whispers in your ear. you insist that you’re just not hungry. he growls in his throat, but suddenly switches into a smile. “of course. i’ll put it in the fridge for when you want it.” miguel says gently. he wraps the plate in saran wrap and set it in the fridge. “i took a day off. looks like we’re going to be together all today now.” he says. he leads you to the couch and assumes the regular position, laying with his head on your lap.

“i love you, y/n. i really, really fucking love you. you believe me, right? you know, right? you know how much i need you? to eat, to sleep, to breathe? i need you.” he says as you watch whatever show was on. “i… i don’t feel… well, i’ll explain later. how about you lay down this time? i know you like getting massaged.” he offers. you lay down, expecting to feel his hands press the knots out from your back, but instead you feel him grab your hand. “i’m sorry. i can’t imagine this is pleasant.” he apologizes, pressing one hand to your back so that you can’t move. his other hand brings your wrist to his lips and he kisses your forearm before sinking his fangs in. within seconds, you feel more and more drowsy.

—

woohoo go me! i did it

anyways i’m super tired i wrote this all in one sitting

part 2

[uplatterme]

Sit Still, Look Pretty.

a/n: i don’t think the doll fetish is a joke anymore *cries*

cw: sub!albedo, dom!reader, amab!reader (gender-neutral terms and pronouns | dollification, mirror sex, slight feminization, orgasm delay/denial

The alchemist stands there, observing his surroundings as he waits for you to get your things. Your room is like any other, quite simplistic besides the few paintings that decorated the walls, paintings that he’d given you as presents.

He’s been here multiple times and usually, everything remains the same. The stack of books on your desk, the mint flower you keep by the window, your sword which always rested laying on your chair.

Usually, is the keyword here.

Now, he finds himself gazing up on one of the shelves, where a doll sits elegantly on a tiny chair.

It’s oddly…human-like.

“I found last week’s reports that you were looking for.” You return to the room, the notebook in your hands.

He takes it from you and checks, it’s just what he needs.

And while he doesn’t really require anything else, his thoughts are captivated by the expensive-looking doll. So, he asks.

Your face turns into worry, although it soon is replaced by a gleeful smile. He wonders what the reason for this is.

“That, right.” He hears you chuckle.

“I happened to get it from a traveling merchant. It’s quite pretty, isn’t it?”

He feels as if there is something else you aren’t telling him.

“How much was it?” Albedo questions.

“Including the clothes? Well, it’s about…”

Once Albedo hears of the amount, he can’t help but furrow his eyebrows from your purchase.

He hears you laugh again, your eyes looking as bright as they can.

“Don’t you find them appealing, Albedo? Lifeless forms whose purpose is nothing but to sit pretty.”

“I suppose.” The alchemist answers.

He really doesn’t.

“I just think it’s neat. Having no other choice but to obey their owners, wear dresses whether they like it or not, pose in whichever way they’re directed to…” You describe freely, grabbing the doll and placing it in his hands.

“And you know what the best part of it is?” Albedo sees your face lighten up.

He maintains his expressionless face, even if he’s taken aback by how close your face is to him, gazing into your spellbinding eyes.

“What?”

“They do it all with a smile.”

Needless to say, Albedo’s thoughts had become occupied since then.

He tells himself that he shouldn’t bother with it this much. 

Your liking of dolls is just like any other hobby, isn’t it? It’s like how Lisa is with her books, obsessive when they aren’t handled properly or returned within the given time.

Still, he sighs. He does receive your tender touch from time to time, but there’s something else that Albedo wants…or needs.

“Which do you think suits her better?”

Albedo snaps out of his thinking to see you holding two dresses right in front of his face.

He absent-mindedly chose the one on the left, and you smile at his choice. 

“Cute.” You say.

He feels flustered despite knowing that the compliment wasn’t for him. It was for that doll.

The only thing he can do is watch you pamper it, brushing its hair and using those fingers of yours to undress it and change it into a new outfit. 

He sits there, an uncomfortable emotion in his chest as he hears you utter praises for something that doesn’t even move.

“I’m sorry, I must excuse myself.” Albedo stands up from his seat to leave, unable to bear your fondness for the doll.

He needs to do something.

The door to your house creaks in as you unlock it. You hum a tune, stretching your arms, a bit tired from today’s schedule.

You take off your coat, hanging it on the wall. You rethink if there’s something else you have to do before going to bed.

“Ah, my mint flower. I haven’t watered it yet.” You say out loud.

With the glass of water in your hand, you step into your bedroom.

“Archons, you scared me!” You sigh, seeing the alchemist sitting on your bed.

While he’s the only other person who has a key to your house, he’s never been the one to visit of his own accord.

You await his response.

The alchemist stays still and unresponsive, staring past you as if there’s something that you’re not seeing.

“Albedo? Are you alright?” You question the man again, only to receive nothing.

Worried, you come up closer to him.

His eyes looked empty and his breathing was…quiet. There’s nothing wrong with him physically. No signs of any injuries that may hinder his talking nor any sign of trauma to his head.

He looks perfect, actually. And now that you take a look closer, you can see pink powder dusting his cheeks.

Albedo has always been that way. Beauty and brains, truly a perfect mix

You direct his face to yours, wanting him to look at you as you speak.

Albedo hasn’t blinked throughout this whole ordeal.

You get a hold of his chin and bring his lips to yours, wondering if that’ll execute a reaction.

Unfortunately, no results are to be seen.

He doesn’t open his mouth when you kiss him, confusing you since he usually does.

It’s as if Albedo has no sentience. A lifeless being, somewhat similar to that of a statue that served no other use but to be stared at.

…

No. 

You deny your thoughts.

Surely, Albedo isn’t doing what you think he’s doing, right?

You trace your fingers on his thighs, its smoothness surprising you. Almost as if it were made from porcelain, you observe.

“Albedo, you cannot do this to me.” You scold him, each second passing by with him in this state is not good for your heart.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” You stare at him, wanting to see if he’ll say anything.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself if things get too far.” You admit, caressing his emotionless face.

Extraordinary.

“To think you would be that jealous of a doll. It’s adorable, my love.” It’s too good to be true, you think. Albedo presents himself as if he is one too, just so he can garner your attention.

He’s always been smart and reckless like this. He knows this will work. Now, to see how far this ambitiousness will push him…

“Well, a new doll needs a new outfit.” You say to him.

Albedo tenses up at your words.

This is proving to be much more difficult than he expected. Your lingering touch makes him want to buckle to his knees. The kiss on his lips, that led to the core in his chest tightening up.

Has he always been that soft? 

Only having a limited field of vision, he cannot see what you’re doing. But from what it sounded, you were likely looking for something to put him in.

“Ah! Here it is!” You bring the dress to his eyes and he immediately regrets playing this role. This is a bit…embarrassing.

“This was supposed to be a gift for Sucrose’s birthday, but I’m sure you’d do a better job modeling this than her.” You explain.

It was getting difficult to maintain his quiet breathing, especially when you ogled his body as you took off the clothes that he has now. He wants to tell you that you should look away, that he can do it in your stead.

However, he ignores it. He ignores the embarrassment and the warmth rushing up to his cheeks. 

“Your white underwear suits you, Albedo. Although, don’t dolls have no need for undergarments?”

Your voice sends a chill to his spine. He sits there helpless under your fingers, awaiting what you’ll do next to him.

“You’re so perfect, my doll.” Albedo bites back the need to whine.

“Should I set up a mirror so you can see?”

He stares at himself through the mirror, the fluffy dress reaching just above his knee. It’s not of Monstadt creation, that’s for sure. Perhaps it’s a dress from Fontaine?

“Do you like it?” He watches you brush his hair.

“You know, I’ve always been amazed at how gorgeous you are. To think I’m this lucky to own you…I’ll make sure to take good care of you, dear.”

Albedo wants to bury himself underground. He’s enjoying this more than he should be.

It’s strange. He doesn’t get why he’s enjoying this at all. Isn’t his sole purpose to be that of living as a human? Why would he succumb to regressing himself like this?

Your arms envelop his body, your hands traveling on top of the fabric. 

They’re warm.

Albedo seethes when he feels you tug his nipple. No talking, he has to remind himself, even if you fondle his body like this without warning.

His throat is itching for something, a word, or any kind of sound. He hasn’t said a single thing since he stepped into your abode. 

He can do it, he reassures himself.

“My doll isn’t giving up this early, no?” You whisper directly to his ears.

Your fingers slip under the dress and he’s forced to be reminded that you’d taken off his underwear earlier. No! If you touch there, he’ll surely—

“Hmm…” 

Panic settles on his face when the noise unconsciously slips out of him.

“Is my doll malfunctioning? That’s a shame. I thought you were perfect. Do I have to throw you out already?” 

No, no… He stresses.

Give him one more chance! He pleads in his head.

Your thumb rubs the slit of his tip, playing with the already oozing precum. His thighs slightly tremble and he’s begging you to not notice it. He can’t —It’s physically impossible for him to stay still!

Your fingers now move to his shaft, stroking his cock slowly and giving him the right pace that he needs.

Albedo’s mind is getting hazy. It feels so damn good, he’s this close to moaning loudly if not for the fear that he’ll disappoint you.

He bites the inside of his cheek, his eyelids shutting close every now and then.

Your pace hastens, each stroke getting rougher and faster. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold in his scream when he cums. 

“Mmgh–”

His breaths are getting heavier and deeper, his cock ready to burst at any second. 

And then he feels your grip tighten. 

You stop your movement, letting his worry go to waste. It’s painful, being stopped when you’re so close to reaching your high. Still, this is better. He can’t imagine what he would do if he actually did crumble beneath your hands.

Albedo shivers when he feels you touch his tip again, replicating the same movements you had done earlier. His thighs are sticky, the insides of the dress damp and warm. 

The alchemist breathes. Coming to a conclusion that he’ll make less of a noise this way. He hears the way it squelches with each stroke, the noise leaving him greatly humiliated.

His cock aches for a release, the emotionless facade that he wears slowly shattering as he gets closer to an orgasm.

He bit down on his lip, ready to contain the noise, when you immediately stopped. His cock twitching from being suddenly released from the friction.

This happens five more times.

Albedo can feel his sanity going away. He needs to cum. Let him, please. He’s been doing so well, hasn’t he?

His legs have stopped shaking, already used to the same torture that you keep putting him under.

He wants it already, impatient at how long he thinks you’ll keep doing this. Albedo wants it to be all over, he’ll do anything. He’ll suck you off with his mouth if you want, no matter if it ends up with him choking at the end.

How long will he have to bear this?

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You ask the worn-out alchemist.

“You’re already perfect, Albedo. But isn’t there something you’re forgetting?”

What?

“I’ve given you so many chances to guess, and yet you still won’t remember?”

Your fingers cup his chin, and his mind relishes at the fact that he could forget about the one thing you told him that you enjoyed the most.

“Smile for me, doll.”

Albedo’s a wreck as he gets his insides wrecked with your length. His body every now and then writhes as he lets you handle his body even if you push inside him so far that he can feel it inside his guts.

He’s not allowed to move. He’s a doll, he keeps repeating to himself.

The smile on his face looks whorish instead of being elegant. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s because of the mirror but seeing you penetrate him, his hole opening up graciously for you has the poor alchemist wanting to scream. But since he can’t, his emotions overwhelm him and tears start flowing down his cheeks.

Being used like this, as if he’s just some object to be thrown around sends a thrill in his head. Perhaps it’s because of the fact that he would have been, if things didn’t go his way. 

Albedo ejaculates on the bed, the dress sticky with his cum. 

You don’t stop, his walls being mercilessly pounded through, wanting to see how far his limit is until he finally begs of you to stop.

Well, you did warn him before, didn’t you?

His body is weightless in your arms, using his body as if it’s your personal sex doll, you grab him by the sides of his waist, thrusting and hitting his sensitive spot each time.

He loves it.

He’s yours and you have every right to decide what he can and cannot do.

He won’t mind.

Not at all.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Can you do Harbinger Headcannons for a reader who has a hard time with being social and recharges by being held? For example: they get overwhelmed after being out and about all day but have a very hard time asking to be held because they don't have the energy to communicate it. (Oddly specific but it's what I deal with)

A/N: I chose these by generating random numbers 1 through 11 and then choosing said harbinger by their rank. It’s purely by luck and I’m happy that Scaramouche and Arlecchino randomly got picked.

Also I had a very hard time finding anything about Pulcinella’s personality or what he’s like since we only saw him in the winter's interlude so if you’re reading this from the future and I’m wrong then I’m sorry. I tried my best.

Harbinger headcanons for a reader who has a hard time with being social and recharges by being held

Scaramouche

- Isn’t thrilled with physical affection but he does understand having your social battery being drained so you both compromised so no one would be uncomfortable and you got to lay your head on his lap while he ran his hands through your hair until you were ready to interact with others. Sometimes he also used your want to escape and get away from social gatherings because he doesn’t like them on a good day.

- Eventually he does come around and grow more relaxed about the whole thing, going as far as to hold you in more ways that you’re both comfortable in and have tea brought for the both of you. You will have to specify if you want a sweeter tea because he’s having his bitter as usual.

Sandrone

- Sandrone completely understands and often has her mechanical puppet use it’s hands to shield her from others so she’s “alone” in a sense. She is debating on making a hollow chamber in it’s chest so a person can rest in there comfortably and safely. You’re treated no different and if you aren’t sitting with her or on some part of the puppet (which almost never happens unless she’s in a harbinger meeting or called to see the Tsaritsa).

- You’ll never hear complaints or declines from her and you quickly taken somewhere else to recharge in her arms like how her mechanical puppet shields her with her arms or simply moving to another room. She’ll take you in her arms and let you rest against her chest, running a hand through your hair and cuddling with you in the hollow warm chamber if you ask.

Childe

- If it were any other person then he’d say pushing your limits is how you should live however this is someone he deeply cares about and knows that when you speak up about needing to be alone and recharge you mean it. You’re always a priority to him and fighting is a second but if he has harbinger work then he’ll do his best to cuddle with you till you’re alright. Childe will bring you along if he has easy missions that he thinks won’t injure you and make sure that you can be comfy but also safe while he balances you and his work.

- He is the best at cuddling and sis very attentive however once he’s has you in his arms you’re staying there for at least an hour or too. So I hope you don’t have anything important soon because even when your social battery is charged he’s going to be very happy with snuggling with his lover and being able to not think about work for once.

Arlecchino

- At first you’re scared to ask her at all since she’s very intimidating but since she’s very observant and perceptive it’s only a matter of time before she’ll talk to you about it. Arlecchino is very loving and soft when it involves you and she’d do anything for you. Pretty much anything that doesn’t break her rules. When you tug on her sleeve and discreetly glance at her with a tired shy expression the knave will excuse herself from the public conversation she’s having. You’ll be lead to an empty room hand in hand and placed on her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair or drawing circles on the top of your hand while you recharge.

- You both made a sign for when you feel like this and she respects it without any question and when she put the pieces together she cupped your face with no judgement at all in her expression. Kissing you softly and resting her forehead on yours. “Try to not be scared of telling me your worries or wishes because I love you no matter what, darling. Now do you want a signal to let me know or would you rather be held now and think about it later?”

Pulcinella

- You don’t need to ask him because he’s going to insist that you never need to ask for permission about anything that’s bothering you or making you uncomfortable and simply guiding you to a small empty room so you can recharge with him. He can also almost know when you’re running low on your social battery if he’s with you and ask you, normally he’s right 99% of the time. If he needs to do harbinger work then he will work on some of it but you’ll be sitting next to him in a hug or leaning your head on his shoulder.

- He’s rarely called for on missions and so you don’t interact much with anyone but him but when you do it’s usually for galas and formal events that makes it hard to sneak away to get away from socializing. He makes it work though, easily slipping out of the conversation he’s in and making an excuse of an agent calling for an urgent message while guiding you to a small isolated part of the room where almost no one can see the both of you. You cozy up to him and he’ll talk you quietly about meaningly topic if you want to be distracted or remain silent if you want it to be quiet.

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask - CS55

Chapter Five - Moving Pawns

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

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Y/N didn’t come out of her room for the first week she was in Spain. She had Oscar standing guard at her door, keeping her company. And sometimes Lando dropped by, when he wasn’t busy going over business with Carlos and Sainz.

She had food brought up to her room for her and Oscar, which she was grateful for. But Y/N had no contact with anybody of the Sainz family. She had Oscar grab the food for her and couldn’t bring herself to answer when somebody knocked on the door.

But the week was over quickly and, soon, Lando was flying back to England. Y/N hugged him goodbye as they stood at the front door, the entirety of the Sainz family behind them. “I’m gonna miss you, Lan,” Y/N mumbled against his shoulder. Tears had already fallen and she wiped her nose once she pulled away.

“I’ll miss you too, Peanut,” he whispered, squeezing her tight. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Lando wasn’t going to be back for a while, not until the wedding ceremony. And, even then, he’d surrounded by other bosses and heads of family. He’d get two minutes to speak to his sister at most on her wedding day.

After Lando went home, Carlos gave Y/N a couple of days on her own. When he walked past her room he could hear her crying late at night while Oscar patted her back and spoke words of comfort. As soon as they were married Carlos would get rid of Oscar. He’d have his own men watch over her on the rare instance that she wasn’t with him.

After day three, Carlos finally knocked on her bedroom door.

Y/N didn’t pull it open. The face that greeted his wasn’t Y/N’s, but Oscar. “She doesn’t want to see anybody,” Oscar said with little regard for his status compared to Carlos.

Carlos flared his nostrils as he stared at Oscar. His stare was threatening, one that would have scared off anybody else, but Oscar stood firm. If Y/N didn’t see anybody, Oscar was going to do anything he could to make that happen.

“Get out of my way,” Carlos growled.

But Oscar still didn’t move. He kept his stare firm and level, his hand gripping the door, holding it shut. “She doesn’t want to see anybody,” he said again.

Carlos pushed him. Hard. He pushed him so hard that Oscar stumbled back into the room, falling on his ass. Oscar reached down for the gun that wasn’t there, the gun he wasn’t allowed to carry around in Carlos’ house. No matter, Oscar didn’t need his gun to make his point. But he didn’t get a chance, not when Carlos placed his foot on Oscar’s chest and turned towards Y/N.

Her eyes were wide and terrified as she stared at the man she was supposed to marry. “What are you doing?” She squeaked. “Get off of him, please!”

“If you join me in the foyer,” Carlos proposed.

Y/N looked at Oscar. He didn’t look pained, just furious as he stared at Carlos. “Yes, fine, okay!” Y/N insisted and Carlos pulled his foot away from Oscar.

His stared stopped Carlos from standing up. Once he was sure Oscar was going to stay on the floor, Carlos looked at Y/N. The gaze of a powerful man was a terrifying thing, and she couldn’t help but shrink in on herself under his stare. “You have ten minutes,” he said and walked out of the room.

Immediately Y/N rushed over to Oscar and pulled him to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Osc,” she whispered as she brushed off his shirt. “He’s a brute and nothing more.”

Oscar didn’t say anything. He stared down at her, brushing his fingers through the ends of her hair. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about me.” His stare was just as intense as Carlos’ but it wasn’t nearly as terrifying.

Clearing his throat, Oscar looked away. “I’ll go down there and tell him to fuck off if you want me to,” he said, but Y/N shook her head.

“Oscar, no! He might kill you.”

Oscar gave her a look, one that had Y/N wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. She pulled away from him and quickly got herself dressed into something more presentable. Y/N sat at the vanity, brushing through her hair as Oscar watched her. She watched him, too, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

As soon as Y/N was done, she stood and walked over to the door. “I’ll go with you,” Oscar said, standing from his seat on her bed.

But she shook her head. “Stay here, take a break,” she said and walked over to the door. Oscar kept following her. “Osc, please. I’ll be okay,” she reassured him, pressing on his shoulder to get him sitting back on the bed. “If anything happens I’ll text you.”

Reluctantly, Oscar nodded. He watched her go, watched her walk out of the door and shut it behind her.

While Oscar waited anxiously, Y/N walked down the grand stairs. Her legs were shaking as she gripped the handrail. Carlos was waiting in the foyer, his hands in his pockets as he watched her.

“Come,” he said once Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and followed Carlos. He walked past the stairs, taking her to the left side of the house. Y/N hadn’t been here yet, having only been to her room and outside. They passed several doors that were shut, and Y/N didn’t dare look in them. Carlos took her to the end of the corridor and pushed open the door, welcoming her inside the library.

It was gorgeous. Books on shelves at least eight feet high. There were plush arm chairs and doors that led out to the fire pit in the garden. And, on a table in the middle of the library, was a chess set.

“Wow,” Y/N whispered as she walked over to the table. She ran her fingers over the tops of the chess pieces, moving a pawn and putting it back.

“You play?” Asked Carlos as he watched her.

Y/N nodded her head and Carlos pulled out a chair. He sat and gestured for Y/N to do the same. She took her seat but didn’t make the first move. That was okay. She was sitting in his library; that was enough for Carlos. He moved his pawn forward two places.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He asked when Y/N moved her pawn only one square forward.

“Actually, I do,” Y/N answered. Carlos looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “I remember when your father had a gun pointed at Lando and I.”

Carlos nodded, as though he remembered the event. “Yes, your mother was very angry. She called my father and screamed at him.”

Y/N was just nine years old at the time. Lando was thirteen and Carlos was eighteen. The only reason the boys were friends were because they were two lonely kids in the same world. While their fathers had a business meeting, the had been tasked with looking after Y/N while she played with her toys on the lawn.

She had a doll sat in the back of a toy truck which she pushed through the grass, making the sound affects with her voice. Lando and Carlos sat on the grass, knees up and arms resting on their knees.

Carlos loved following his father to England on business. Usually Carlos would be involved, but they tasked him with watching over Y/N. This business was more serious than Sainz wanted his eighteen-year-old son involved in.

“She looks happy,” Carlos said, his English rather good.

“She is,” Lando said. He loved his little sister dearly; thirteen year old Lando knew the kind of work his father did, knew the kind of work he’d be going into. He knew what would happen to Y/N if he didn’t watch over her. She was the one person he’d kill for.

“Does she know what’s going on?”

Lando shook his head. He looked back at his house, at the window to the office where his Sainz, his father and his stepmother were. His stepmother was looking out of the window as she spoke to the men behind her. Lando couldn’t tell what her expression was as she watched them, watched her daughter playing.

There were shouts, plenty of them, and then the doors to the house were thrown open. Lando was on his feet within seconds, running over to his little sister as Sainz marched out of his house, his father following him.

Sainz marched past them, saying something to Carlos in Spanish as he marched over to his car. “You fucking dare, Sainz!” Norris shouted. He seemed not to notice his children stood between himself and the other head of family.

Sainz spat something in Spanish. “You have done this to yourself, Norris!” He shouted. “Meet my demands and I will reopen our trading routes!”

Suddenly, Norris pulled his gun from the waistband of his trousers. “You’re jeopardising things for all of the families! Do you really want to risk that?” His finger rested on the trigger.

He wouldn’t shout, not when Lando and Y/N were there. Lando was sure of that much. But he didn’t move, far too terrified. Even Y/N had stopped playing with her toys, staring at her dad with tears in her eyes.

Sainz stared past Y/N and Lando with fury in his eyes. “Put that gun away while there are children around!” He shouted.

Norris didn’t move.

Suddenly Sainz had his own gun out, pointing it down at Y/N. He wasn’t going to shoot her, this was just supposed to scare her father. But Lando didn’t know that. He suddenly grabbed his sister and picked her up, shielding her body with his own. Y/N cried against his shoulder, her body shaking as Lando shushed her.

“Tell me more,” Carlos said as they progressed with their game.

Y/N told Carlos everything there was to know about herself. She started with the most obvious thing, which was her love of chess. She had nothing to hide from Carlos since she had no involvement in any of her fathers and brothers business. She went through her hobbies, asking the same of Carlos.

Carlos couldn’t tell much. He didn’t know how much contact she had with Lando (which was none) and didn’t know how much information was going back to him. He told her about his love of golf and fast cars.

It wasn’t easy for Y/N to talk to Carlos. But she used the chess game as a buffer between them, which seemed to ease the tension. Carlos never asked anything that she couldn’t answer, never anything about the Norris family.

He only kept her there for the one chess game, which Y/N won. Carlos wore a smile as he walked her back to her room, glaring at Oscar when he opened the door.

Carlos hated Oscar. As soon as they were married, he’d be gone.

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