#I’m going to out myself a little because it’s fucking funny to me

[maxtermind]

“your opinion of me won't change, right?” + lando (who kinda has a fuckboy reputation but fell for the reader)

“your opinion of me won't change, right?”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where a fuckboy gets turned into a loverboy? ★:feat:: lando norris x reader ★:genre:: hurt/comfort

the knock on your door comes around midnight when you're almost going to bed. you don’t expect anyone, especially not him.

for a second, you stand still, unsure of what to do with heart thudding. but the persistent rapping doesn’t stop, and despite the days of silence between you two, you already know who it is.

when you swing the door open, lando stumbles in, his shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with alcohol and something darker. his hair is a mess, damp from the rain, and he reeks of whiskey and regret.

“y/n,” he breathes out, almost as if he’s relieved to see you. but you’re not relieved at all. you’re angry, confused, and hurt and looking at him really hit you so hard that you had to squeeze the ends of your his t-shirt to not stumble.

you close the door behind him, and he sways unsteadily. he’s drunk—drunker than you’ve ever seen him. his clothes are disheveled, his usual cool confidence replaced by something pitiful, something raw.

"lando, what the hell are you doing here?" your voice is sharp, meant to sting, because his presence alone already rips at the wounds that haven't even started healing yet.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you with those familiar blue eyes, the same ones that once made you weak in the knees, but now… they just bring back the pain. his lips tremble as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

"you—" lando slurs slightly, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "you weren't… supposed to leave. you—" it washed over you like a bucket of cold water and you're already moving away from his touch.

"don't." your voice cracks, and you hate how fragile you sound. you take another step back, putting more space between you two. "don’t come here like this again."

lando rubs his face, pacing around your small living room slowly, stumbling over air. he’s spiraling, trying to collect his thoughts, but the alcohol muddles his brain and you can see the struggle on his face.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want you to leave,” he mutters. he turns to you, desperation in his eyes. "i messed up, okay? i know that. but i… fuck, i’m trying, y/n."

you cross your arms, every muscle tense. "trying? you’re drunk, lando. that’s not trying."

his face crumples at your words, and he stumbles back, this time collapsing onto the couch like his legs can’t hold him up anymore. his hands run through his hair, pulling at it in frustration, in agony.

you vividly remember what happened a few nights ago when a girl texted him asking if he was up for 'another' great night. it wasn't easy being with someone while knowing he could have anyone in the entire world and with his past, you were already always on the edge of letting your insecurities out.

it just led to a bigger argument where instead of assuring you how you were the only one he ever wanted, he asked you to either start trusting him or leave.

so you left.

"do you know how much i fucking hate myself?" his voice is hoarse now, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it cuts through you like a knife as it brings you back to the present. "i tried to be better for you. i… i tried."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying to stay firm, but it’s hard. it's always been hard with him. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he lifts his head slowly, tears brimming in his eyes now, and the sight is enough to make your resolve crack just a little. you've never seen him cry before. not like this.

“your opinion of me won’t change, right?” his voice breaks, and you freeze. the vulnerability in his question sends a jolt of pain straight to your chest. he sounds small, defeated, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has finally crushed him.

“lando…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"because everyone else—" he pauses, taking in a shaky breath. "they all think they know me? that i’m just some… some asshole who doesn’t care, who’s not capable of… anything real? but i’m not. i’m not, y/n. you know that, right?"

the room feels heavy, like the air is thickening with every word. you want to say something, to tell him that you believed in him once, that you saw the good in him, the real lando, but it’s not that simple anymore.

"i fell for you," he says, voice trembling, eyes glistening as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that can save him. with the rapid blinking of his eyes, tears start to fall and so does your resolve. "i wish i didn’t put you through this, but i did. and i didn’t know how to be that guy… the one you deserved. but i tried. i’m still trying."

it’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of his ragged breathing and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you look at him, really look at him. his face is flushed from the alcohol and the tears, but beneath that, you see something more. he’s broken in ways you never let yourself see before.

all the cockiness, the bravado, the charm—it was all just a shield. he never thought he was good enough for you either, and maybe that’s why you left. you repeat it to yourself but it was a losing war.

the old lando wouldn’t be here, in front of you, crying and baring his soul. he wouldn’t have admitted any of this. isn't that reason enough to give him another chance?

he was selfish before, reckless, hiding behind his reputation as the playboy, the fun guy who never cared too deeply about anything. but now, now you see the cracks. you see the vulnerability he’s tried so hard to bury and it kills you to give in but the words leave you before you can stop yourself.

"i thought you didn’t care," you admit softly, feeling all your defenses start to crumble. "that’s why i left, lando. i didn’t think you could care."

"i fucking love you," he lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. not believing what you were saying at all. "i care too fucking much. i just… maybe i don’t know how to show it right."

you sigh, sitting down beside him on the couch, still keeping a little distance between you. "it’s not about showing it right. it’s about showing it at all."

he looks at you, his gaze softer now, more open. "i’m sorry. i know i’ve been… i know i fucked up. but i’m… i love you, y/n. i really fucking love you. and i didn’t know how much until you weren’t there."

his words hang in the air, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel anger or hurt. you just feel… sad. sad for him, sad for you, sad for all the misunderstandings that led you here.

you reach out, gently brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for your touch. he probably is because so are you.

"i’ve changed," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "i swear loving you has changed me."

you don’t respond right away. instead, you lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. his skin is warm beneath your lips, and the simple gesture feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared before.

when you pull back, lando looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. "i love you too," he mumbles, his voice barely audible, like he’s falling asleep or slipping into a dream where things are better, where you’re together again.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next, or if you can really fix what’s broken between you. but for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe… just maybe, you can try.

and maybe this time, it’ll be different.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[mars-ipan]

iii…. don’t know what romance is

[munamania]

kk i’m torn between am i ever gonna say anything like. fr to her. or just let this go. i don’t think i can let it go ik you don’t need to closure in every situation but like. i do this time. but im in no rush to have the feelings talk. actually i am it’d be nice to just get it out

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?��� finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[webslingingslasher]

cherry buys the cherry lube (best kind) as her last step to convince peter to fuck her and he just sighs JDBDDN

she’s just a girl😔 he needs to give her what she wants! in the name of feminism

an: nsfw content!

sitting crisscrossed in peter’s bed, you reach over the side to grab a small bag from your backpack. the thin plastic had three red thank you’s printed across it. you raise it over your head and give it a shimmy.

‘guess what i got?’

‘a lamborghini.’

‘so close! okay, you know that sex shop off that exit with the chinese place?’

‘no.’

‘oh. i’ll have to take you-’

‘no thanks.’

‘- but i went there and i found something. something i think you’d like and something you think we’d need.’

‘i’m scared.’

‘i’m not!’ you shake out the bag, a palm sized bottle of lube falls, it lands on your lap and you quickly present it to peter with a proud smile.

‘lube?’ you shove it out into his hands, ‘look at the flavor!’ peter squints at the bottle, then scoffs. ‘really? cherry?’

‘oh c’mon, it’s perfect!’ you start listing off why, ‘you call me cherry, you’re taking my cherry, and it’s cherry lube, to do said previous thing.’

you’re waiting for his excitement, you reach forward to push at his cheeks, forcing a smile. ‘what? you don’t find it funny? i thought i’d at least get a chuckle from you.’

peter watches as you tear the plastic around the cap with your teeth. ‘do you think it actually tastes like cherry?’ you stick out your tongue and put a small drop on it, you hold it out to peter and wave your hand along.

he’s got hesitant eyes when his own darts out, you give him the same amount. your face sours at the taste, peter has a poker face. ‘ew.’ it sticks around, you wipe your tongue off with your shirt.

'that was gross- unless you like it, i assume you'd be doing most of the tasting.' peter tosses the bottle into a trashcan you didn't know he had. 'is that new?' peter shakes his head, you tilt yours and try to place it. 'weird. never noticed it before. also, you owe me four dollars.'

'why do i have to pay you back?'

'you threw it away.'

'it was inedible.'

'false. i could've used it by myself.'

'go dig it out then.'

'i deserve more than trash lube, peter.'

'consider it a favor, you shouldn't be using scentsy stuff down below. i've heard they don't like it.'

you squint at him, 'what's it for then?' peter looks down at his crotch, 'blowjobs.' you drop your mouth a little, that hadn't occurred to you. 'oh, i see.' you have a moment where things click into place. 'so that would also explain flavored condoms.'

'please tell me you didn't get flavored condoms.'

'of course not.'

peter relaxes, you prefer him on edge.

'i don't know what size you wear. is it a one size fits all thing cause i've seen those videos where people hang them out the car window and they turn into balloons.'

'think of it as a pair of leggings. could you fit into a pair three sizes too small? sure can. is it comfortable? absolutely not.'

‘and ones that are too big just fall off? that explains a lot, actually.’

‘personally, i’d be more mortified if a condom came off because it was too big versus just admitting i need a smaller size.’

your eye twinkles, ‘and what size are you?’

‘you buy the tampons, i buy the condoms. deal?’ you can't lie, learning male anatomy has been your favorite part in all of this.

peter lays back with his hands behind his head, you straddle his lap and he's watching with close eyes. 'what? i can't get comfortable?'

he smiles. sometimes you get a ping in your lower stomach when he looks at you like that.

'all this bedspace and you choose to get comfortable on me?'

'i have a feeling this will be my favorite seat.' a smug grin.

'you're bold for a virgin.'

'would you rather me be scared to be near you, a man with a penis?' peter's head tilts, you know what's coming. 'oh? so you didn't have a panic attack when you saw my dick?'

you twitch your nose at the quip, you pat his tummy, hovering over his waistline. 'speaking of, you should let me see him again. i'm prepared and i wanna touch.'

peter's ignoring the spike in his blood pressure, he doesn't like the gleam in your eye. 'or... i think i have a suggestion for how you can make up the four dollars you owe me.'

'i owe you nothing, but lets hear it.'

you act out your words. 'you,' you point at him. 'me,' you point at yourself. 'having sex,' you gesture to your placement, then the bare spot next to him. before he can ruin it, you continue. 'right now.'

'do you think if you keep asking i'll say yes on a whim?' you lean in, inches from his face. 'you want to have sex with me. you want to take me to pound town. you want to make me a real woman.' it's a poor attempt at hypnotizing.

'okay, well, being a virgin doesn't mean you're not a real woman. second, you still get nervous about making out with me. you're not ready for sex.'

okay, maybe so. it's not your fault you don't know how to act around him, he's the first guy you've seen for longer than a week and he's not your boyfriend.

'i'm not anxious about kissing you.'

'oh, really? do it then.' he called your bluff. you've kissed people before but this whole arrangement was peter's idea so you've left all the initiation to him.

'fine, i'll kiss you.' you make no movements.

'i'm waiting.' you swallow tightly and move in, he's got that smile that makes your heart beat fast, you still haven't pinpointed why. 'i'm going to kiss you.' peter nods, 'go ahead.'

you get closer, 'i'm seriously gonna do it.'

'c'mon, cherry. i hate a tease.' you power through the part of your brain that tells you you've never kissed a guy, you've always waited for them to kiss you. you hold your breath and land a peck on his mouth.

'there. i did it.'

'did what? kiss me like i dared you?’ he finds it funny, that's what you get for being bold. you won't make him laugh this time. you move quick, your lips melt over his, you always forget how good of a kisser he is until you have your mouth on his and you never want to separate again.

it becomes sloppy, when you lick his bottom lip peter groans, it sends a spark to your thighs and you involuntarily clench around nothing. you gasp when you're flipped onto your back, peter's dotting a line over your jaw.

when a rough hand skids under your shirt, you suck in a breath.

'relax.' 

it's easier said than done. peter's right, you talk a big game but when he actually tries to do what you want, you hit the panic button.

'sorry, i was just thinking about the four bucks you owe me.'

'don't lie when i'm about to get handsy.' you squirm when fingers tuck themselves into the band of your bra. 'handsy how?' it's peter's turn to take control.

'how do you feel about hitting second base?'

'you're gonna finger me?' your voice pitches while your mind starts racing, you weren't prepared for this. 'easy, killer. second base is just me feeling you up, when you're ready for more, let me know.'

relief floods you, you get more comfortable underneath him. 'oh, okay. yeah, you can get handsy. do you want me to take my shirt off?'

'i want to suck your tits, you decide.'

your entire body flushes warmth, your cheeks are like lava. 'oh! i've never had that done. does it feel good?'

'i don't know, but i'm here if you want to find out.' you nibble on your bottom lip, it's all about eventually having sex and part of that might include your boobs.

'i'd like to find out.'

peter doesn't rush into it. for someone who doesn't like to be teased, he loves teasing. it feels like an hour passes before you're bare chested, a slurry of insecurity flashes when he doesn't immediately go to town.

'you're beautiful.' peter feels a little silly saying it, he hasn't really complimented a girl so softly under the guise of sex before.

your heart pounds, you've never heard it said so authentically. peter genuinely believes what he's saying, you don't think a guy has ever called you beautiful. you've gotten hot and sexy but never beautiful. you feel the need to give him something back.

'you're handsome.' you might be bad at this, you feel his smile in the crook of your neck.

'thanks, cherry.'

slow marks dance over your collarbones, when they reach your chest you almost flinch. 'i'm okay.' you were speaking to yourself, but maybe peter also needs the reminder. 'are you trying to convince me or yourself?'

'yes.'

'you can tap out. no harm, no foul.' no, you got this far and if you back out it would be taking ten steps backwards. 'i'm not tapping out, i'm waiting to see if what you're saying is worth all the hoopla.'

peter snorts, 'hoopla.' you're about to give a rebuttal, instead you grip the back of his head and let out a breathy 'oh wow,' when peter swirls his tongue around you.

it's igniting you all over, you don't know why you thought it would feel bad. when there's a vacuum seal and peter starts sucking, you're a goner. when he mixes in that little twirl method, you let out an earth shattering moan.

your hand slams over your mouth. 'sorry! i've never done that before and i-' there's a dark look in peter's eyes, you can't decide if he's more upset about your words or making him stop.

'don't ever apologize for your pleasure. got it?' you nod quickly, you'd agree to anything if it meant peter would keep going. 'okay, okay, got it.' it's all he needs and he's back to work, the breast he doesn't have in his mouth is being treated with his hand.

there's double sensation, peter's going back and forth and now you can't think straight and... and... you're about to come and you've never done that in front of another person.

'please stop!'

peter drops his mouth open and freezes, he's moving with caution when he pulls away from you. you race for air while the knot in your stomach slowly untangles.

'are you okay?' peter's looking over every inch of your body, you smile sheepishly and look anywhere but him. 'yeah. i was just like... you know?'

'no.'

'i was gonna... you know? and i've never done that with another person.' peter's trying to jump through the hoops of your 'you know?'s' you say that a lot and very rarely does he actually know what you mean.

'you were about to come?' everything burns, how is he so casual about all of this? 'yeah.' the look on his face tells you he already knew that. 'what did you think the point was? just for fun?'

'you didn't tell me that! how was i supposed to know?' he gives a half shrug. 'it gets some people off and others need more. it was a gamble, nice to know which crowd you fit in though.'

you feel a bit silly, of course that was the intention. wasn't this whole thing about your pleasure? 'if you get me off, i have to get you off.' peter's quick to shut you down.

'you don't have to do anything. sex isn't transactional.'

'yeah, but, peter, i want to please you too. this doesn't do much for me if you keep me away from you.' peter takes your concern to heart, he nods thoughtfully and calmly explains his hesitation.

'i understand that, and i promise we'll get there. mutual pleasure is something we need to conquer before sex, yes. but for right now, as someone who's done those things for a while, i'm on the backburner. i need to catch you up to speed on some things first, okay? you've never come in front of someone, you don't need to be trying to tack blowjob skills on top of that.'

peter has an excellent argument, you just feel bad he's not getting anything in return. he doesn't owe you anything, he's just doing you a favor and he absolutely doesn't owe you loyalty. it's not like peter likes you, he's just doing you a favor, that's all this is.

'just because...' your tongue feels thick, it feels hard to say what you're about to say and you don't know why. 'just because you're helping me out doesn't mean you have to suffer. so if you want to hookup with someone more experienced while we-'

'no. that's not what this is about, that mentality is why we're not just jumping into sex. cherry lube or not.' you don't know why that relieves you, you don't know why you feel so much better knowing peter wasn't looking for anything with anyone else.

just in case; 'if you do hook up with someone else-'

'i won't.'

'-i believe you. but if you do, can you promise not to tell me? if you need to take care of yourself outside of this just don't let me find out, please.' it'd be crushing to know what peter's doing with you while knowing he's doing the same thing with another girl who could actually pleasure him back.

'cherry, seriously, that's not what this is about.' it's sex. it's only about sex. how could you be confusing it?

'sex is about open and honest communication. it's about trusting each other and being vulnerable. it doesn't matter if it's a one night stand or a committed relationship, it takes a lot to open up to someone else like that. if, and i wouldn't, but i'll entertain you- if i wanted to step out of this, i'd tell you first, because that's what you're supposed to do.'

when you picked peter out of the line of frat boys you had no idea you got the one who was all about slow and steady. you expected a quick one night and to be sent off to live the world as a non-virgin, not the beefy gentleman in front of you.

'you're one of a kind, parker.' peter winks at you, you feel warm. 'same to you, cherry. this only works if we're open with each other, i'm not just teaching you the physical parts of sex, i'm trying to show you the mental and emotional side of it because that's way more important than the actual sex, does that make sense?'

you think you get what he's saying. 'so, because you already know these things, your pleasure doesn't matter right now?'

'correct.'

'and if it matters to me?'

'don't let it. because if it becomes an issue i'll...' he trails off, he's waiting on you to finish it for him. you'll prove you've been listening. 'tell me.'

'bingo! look at you, cherry smart.' you groan, 'that was gross.' peter squeezes your knee, he's looking over your face for any hesitation, he doesn't see any.

'are we good? we're on the same page now?'

you nibble on your bottom lip, you think you covered everything. you didn't know there were so many things to sex. 'yeah, same page.' peter's happy with that, he nods once and turns back on the horny part of his brain.

'still wanna call it quits or keep going?'

same page, same page, same page, same-

'keep going.' you sound nervous, peter catches it. 'are you sure? we can put it on pause and-'

'no, i wanna...' time to be a big girl, you're both on the same page. 'i wanna have you make me...' you lose your tenacity but you still power through, even if you mumble the last word. 'come.'

peter tells you if you wanna stop, at any point for any reason, just call it like you did before. you agree but tell yourself you were going to get through it because the sooner you open yourself up for pleasure, the sooner peter opens himself up for the same thing.

it's not a hard thing to power through, this time you're not shy about quiet whimpers or tugging at the back of peter's hair. 'oh my god,' you squeeze your eyes shut, there are zings of want being sent into your core, it's an unreal feeling.

peter grazes his teeth over your nipple, your back arches from his bed. 'okay, yeah, shit, fuck, okay.' you're bad at staying calm, peter's humming into your skin, you want more. you want everything he's given you multiplied by ten.

a switch to your left breast, it's just as satisfying. when his thumb tweaks your bud, you push up further. 'i want more, please more.' you don't know what you're asking for, you're hoping peter will help you out.

peter sucks harshly, your breath hitches and at that perfect moment, he grinds his hips into yours. an egregious moan rips from your throat, you can't help the tumbling whimper, it sounds pathetic. peter must like it, he rolls harsher, his jeans meet your bottoms perfectly.

'doin' okay?' you answer by shoving his head back down. 'mhm, keep doing that please.' peter follows  the instruction, whatever gets you off, he'll do.

bump and grind, he's back on your right tit. it's been ten minutes but you can already tell he prefers that one. it took longer to build because you edged yourself, but peter hit that one spot and your thighs are a vice grip around his hips.

'oh my fucking god, peter.' he said he doesn't know if it would feel good, you wish you could share a fraction of what you're experiencing. your lower stomach tightens, peter latches down harder as if he has a sixth sense for what you're about to do.

you don't know what to do with your hands, when you grit your teeth and meet his miniature thrusts, they land on peter's arms and your nails dig in. your eyes slam closed, you see white light as if your picture was taken with the flash on.

'shit, shit, shit, shit!' you swear you're drawing blood from him but all you can think about is the heat exploding from your body. your hips buck they never have before, there's a sense of delight backing it up.

you've never had an orgasm like this in your entire life. it feels so different with another person, it felt like it was never ending. your legs feel like they locked up, you stop breathing for a solid second before you're gasping.

peter pulls back, your head is still spinning. your chest rapidly rises and falls, you feel marks over your face but you're so far away in your mind it's muddled.

'c'mon, come back to me.' you feel more awake, there's a wet kiss to your cheek, then another to your chin. 'c'mon, cherry. find your mind.' you do, your eyes open, you forgot you had them closed. it's like peeling them apart.

you feel wrecked.

'hi.' peter's got a cocky grin, he deserves it. you run your hand down your face, you feel fuzzy. 'hi.' you remember the harm you might've caused, you slightly shake when you reach for peter's arm, there's no marks.

'how are you feeling?' like you're leaking into his mattress, like every muscle is weighed down, like you couldn't stand up if you tried. the best you can come up with is, 'floaty.'

'that might stick around for a minute. want some water?' you hadn't thought of it before, but suddenly you feel parched. peter reads your mind, he's already holding out his water bottle.

'everything's better right after, no idea why.' peter guesses it's something with endorphins and brain chemicals, but he's never bothered to actually look into it.

after sitting up, you chug. even after the water you're still breathless. 'holy shit.' falling forward, peter catches you. you lay on him as a half hug, all he's doing is supporting your weight. you feel terribly heavy right now.

'thank you so much, oh my god. holy shit, a guy just made me come in my pants, what the fuck is my life?' a sprinkle of kisses from your ear to your cheek, 'don't build my ego too much or you'll have to deal with it.'

'i feel so heavy right now.' you drop to the pillow at peter's push, you don't have it in you to fight back. it's not necessary because peter falls right next to you and scoops you into his hold.

or, another way to put it, peter's cuddling you. peter's cuddling you while he's kissing your shoulder, it makes your head spin even more. 'what are you doing?' you're not fighting him on it, if anything you're leaning in further, he's just never cuddled you before. it feels nice.

'aftercaring you. doing my best to get you back down to earth from your floaty space.' you nod like you understand, there's still some things you need to get better at.

'hey, peter?'

'yeah?' he's much quieter.

'you don't owe me four dollars anymore.' a puff of hot air into your skin, at least he finds you funny. 'good. you were never gonna get it anyways.' 

[misslovasstuff]

Things that they say which make you weak in the knees

fem!reader x op!men: Zoro, Sanji, Law.

information: nsfw content is marked aside.

please support me here (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎) ： ko-fi

Zoro

“You’re so pretty when you fight”

The way you just send that guy flying with just one punch makes me think you can be so ruthless sometimes… I like it.”

“You decided to wear the most seductive perfume for me to get drunk on.”

“Come, rest on my lap.”

“I want to hold your hand just in case you get lost, you know…”

“I’ll never let you out of my grip.”

“You’re the sword I point to myself, my greatest weakness.”

“One more tear coming from your eyes and I’ll let the world know what it means to live in hell.”

“I got you one of those hair clips you like.”

“You’ve gotten stronger, so it will be soon enough that you will surpass curly eyebrows.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, can’t blame a man for not being able to say no to his woman.“

“You’re one of the strongest people I know, babe. Don’t get discouraged.”

“You feeding me food just made my whole day.”

“Just because I’m with a beautiful woman does not mean I know how I did it alright?”

“Beautiful, everything about you is so beautiful.”

“I’ve missed you all day, a lot.”

“Please say it one more time, say it again that you love me.”

NSFW

“Fuck baby, you’re tightening around me so much.”

“You like doing the exact opposite of what I tell you, huh? Then don’t bend over and absolutely don’t scream my name while I’m at it.”

“Every hole of yours takes me so well. Does your body only accept my cock?”

“You’ve been fantasising about this moment, right?”

“Spit out all the positions you’ve imagined yourself with me. We’re going to try them all.”

“Your gaze on me is so intense, what do you want baby? Whisper to me all your nasty thoughts?”

“I like it when you scream like that, go even louder if you want. Let yourself go wild, I’m here with you, I got you.”

“Look at yourself, your hips are moving on their own. Are you this eager for me?”

“Leaving all these marks on my skin, what do you want to show? That I’m yours? There is none in the world who doesn’t know that I belong to you.”

Sanji

“Where does your beauty come from? The heavens?”

“I haven’t really known love before laying my eyes on you.”

“Mon amour, the dress I got looks marvellous on you, my goodness…I can’t look away. Don’t mind your boyfriend staring at you for a while.”

“I made your favourite dessert, love. And no, it won’t make you fat, and no it was not a bother for me. You’re never a bother for me cher. Now open your mouth.”

“Who hurt you like this? Tell me. I know you’re kind and don’t want to hurt anyone, but I need to meet the bastard who did this to you.”

“Pretty girl looking at the pretty sunset not knowing she’s prettier, no, the prettiest!”

“Your hair has grown so beautifully during the past few months, sweetheart. You look like a fairy princess.”

“Wait I don’t want you to go and leave me alone with mosshead! Pleaseeeee, baby nooooo!”

“Is this guy bothering you?”

“Look man, can’t you see the lady has no interest in you whatsoever? Keep walking and don’t you dare even to look back at her, bastard!”

“I read the little note you left for me in the kitchen, it’s still not funny that you sign with a spiral brow every time.”

NSFW

“I’ll start begging if you keep teasing me like this, mon cœur.”

“So afraid to kiss your lips and taint them with mine. How can I not tremble when I touch something so heavenly?

“Slow down, Angel. All this is here for you.”

“You taste so good, I want more…more…”

“Such a good girl for putting your legs over my shoulders, you know what your boyfriend likes, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes, baby exactly like that. Move your tongue around it just like that.”

“Feel how deep I am in you, feel it, touch it.

“Is it alright if I start moving it? Well, perhaps it’d be good to ask myself that too because I’m feeling so overwhelmed right now.”

“Mon amour, tell me how you like it, tell me what you want, I’ll do it all for you.”

“I’ve been thinking all day of being inside you.”

“Your boobs pull my hands like magnets. Let them be the hill I die on.”

“I’m restraining my moans cause I know you’ll make fun of me later. However, I can’t help but whimper under your touch.”

“I’ll fuck you like the very first day. You remember what position you were in, don’t you? Then, be a good girl and bend over for me.”

Law

“You don’t have to put all the pressure on yourself. I’m here so relax.”

“How come you’re so confident and so shy at them same time? That’s adorable.”

“Go out with me, I promise I’ll make you the happiest woman in all the seas!”

“I could never foresee experiencing this feeling. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? Do you…do you feel it too?”

“I’ve done many mistakes in my life but you are not one.”

“I found you, someone I want to protect and risk my life for. How can I gather the strength to let go of your hand now?”

“I’m not blushing! It’s not blush it’s just the freaking sun!”

“Look, it’s hard talking about feelings ok? I need a moment to think how to not completely crumble when I gaze at your eyes.”

“How can someone so precious like you exist?”

“Your soul radiates a light so strong that it pushes off all my senses. Can I touch you?”

“I trust you. Please come back safely.”

“Allies? You specify our relationship as allies? That’s it?!

NSFW

“That’s why you were waiting for me on the deck, so you could get dicked down tonight?”

“I’ll touch you only if you use that pretty mouth of yours to beg. Come on sweetheart, don’t be mad at me, I’ve spoiled you way to much.”

“While I’m at it, start thinking of other places you want to be fucked at. The night is long, beautiful.”

“Look at me. Yes, with that satisfaction in your eyes. Take my fingers in your mouth and don’t be loud. Surely you don’t want your crew to see you in such position, yes?”

“Fuck, where did you learn to suck like that?”

“You can’t see them but there are marks in your ass from all the slapping. Only you would be crazy enough to tattoo them.”

“Driving me crazy here, you’re riding me like there’s no tomorrow. Please, don’t stop.”

“You’re so rough… I love it…I love you.”

[selfloverrrrrr]

hii can i request Pervert gojo finally losing control and nonconing reader after she finds him jerking off with her panties. I’m talking pushing her down on the bed, threating to cum inside her with her begging him not to cause she’s not on birth control only making him go harder. An age gap would be pretty hot as well

Pervert Teacher

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Gojo's POV

"Am I being a pervert?" I questioned myself. I'm her sensei. Yes I am obsessed with y/n. But never let anyone know that. Not even her. I always stalk her everywhere. I know she's my student. I know she has a crush on Yuji. But I won't let her confess to him. Because she's mine! I don't like if someone touches what's mine!

Whenever she's on a mission I went in her room. See her stuffs. I steal her pantie. Does that makes me pervert? I don't care if it does... She's mine... and I'm gonna make her mine one day!

It was a normal day. I just came back home. I went to the bathroom and took a bath. I came back to my bedroom. I got dressed. I was about to close my closet when I noticed y/n's pantie. Fuck! Every time I see those I get hard. I didn't have any work to do...so why not please myself?

I unzipped my pants and took the pantie. Fuck, my dick was already hard. I wrapped her pantie around my dick. This thing always touches her pussy. I'm gonna get her pussy wrapped around my dick too soon.

I stroked myself. "F-fuck" a moan escaped my mouth. I imagined y/n. Begging me to let her suck my cock. Her small mouth trying to take my dick in. I imagined her little juicy tongue licking the tip of my dick. I keep stroking myself.

I imagined her getting wet by trying to suck my dick. How she'll beg me to fuck her and make her cum. The way she calls me sensei.... And I'll fuck her hard. Spank her. Will fuck her so hard she'll never forget who she belongs to... I imagined all those nasty things and kept stroking myself until I heard my bedroom door open. "Y/n?" I said and tried to pull up my pants to cover myself.

Y/n's POV

I was talking with Nobara on call. "Yes yes I know it was so funny" I said. "I know right" Nobara said from the other side. "Btw girl....did you give sensei his card back that he gave us for shopping yesterday?" Nobara asked. "Oh shit... I forgot! I'm gonna give him back right now" I replied. "Okey then... gonna talk later " Nobara said and the call ended.

I went to Gojo sensei's room. I was about to knock but saw the door was open. I went inside. "Sensei?" I called his name. But no answer came. I heard some noise coming from his bedroom. I looked at the direction. I saw light coming from there. "Sensei must be there" I said and went towards the bedroom.

I opened the door. "Sensei your card-" but I got shocked. "Ahhh... f-fuck y/n don't stop" I saw him moaning while he was stroking himself. Eyes closed. And moaning My name?! He opened his eyes when he heard my voice. "Y/n?" He said and tried to cover himself pulling up his pant.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't.." I was speaking then my eyes went to his other hand. Which was holding a pantie? I recognised it. That was mine.... one of those which were Missing from my closet. My eyes went back to him. I saw him staring at me. He knew I understand what was happening.

I started going back. "I-I'm sorry...." I said and turned around to get out. When I turned around he was standing in front of me. I knew he can teleport himself. He was staring at me again. "You know it now... right ?" He asked with a smirk. "W-what" I said. I started back up inside his bedroom and his was walking towards me. "Don't try to be innocent.... I know that you understood it....my six eyes are telling me it" he said. "N-No... I don't ..... P-Please " I said. He looked at me and smiled.

Suddenly he grabbed my waist and threw me on the bed with him top of me. I screamed. "Lying to your teacher,huh?" He said. "Please sensei I don't know... please let me go" I begged. "I know that you know....that means can't let you go" he replied mockingly. He pressed his lips on mine. He kissed me. he forced his tongue inside my mouth. I slapped on his chest to stop him. But he didn't.

Then he pulled away. I gasped. I was breathing heavily. When I looked at him he already stripped himself out of his shirt. "I almost edged myself when you came in here... Now you should please me better " he said and ripped off my shirt. "Nooo....stopp!!!" I sobbed. "Still not wearing a bra, huh? Or were you wishing for me to rape you?" He whispered with a smirk.

"no no no.... please let me go!!!" I sobbed. Gojo kissed me again. He grabbed my boob and started squeezing it and I moaned in the kiss. Hearing my moan Gojo stopped the kiss and crashed his mouth on my breast. I moaned out loudly. He started sucking on my breast roughly. The more I moan the more roughly he sucks and  squeeze on my breasts.

He pulled away. He was still staring at me. I was trying to get away but he was locking my legs with his own legs. He ripped off my skirt and pantie. I heard an unzipping sound. He unzipped his pants again. Now I started crying. He smirked when he saw me crying. He stroked himself. It was huge. Was he going to fuck me now?!

He came on top of me again. Then he rubbed his dick on my clit. I moaned slightly. "Now spread those legs wideeeee for sensei ~" he whispered in my ear. " No no no!!!! I'm gonna tell everyone!!! I'm gonna tell this to everyone.... everyone will hate you!!!" I screamed. He pushed his whole length in one slide. "Go, tell them.... I. Don't. Care." He replied.

"ahhhhhhh.... pull out!!! Please pull out!!! It's too big.... I...I can't!!!!!!!" I sobbed and begged. "Shhh....be a good slut for sensei and please him" he said and started thrusting in and out. I screamed for help. "Nobody's gonna help you, slut....just accept it" he whispered in my ear and started thursting in and out roughly. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was liking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight.....oh fuck ...oh fuck.... it's even better than I thought it would be" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. He choked me down to the bed. "Now look at me when I cum inside you" he said statistically. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength.

" Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Shhh.... shut up and just fucking take what I'm giving you." He screamed still thrusting roughly. "P-Please no.... I'm not on birth control....please don't" I begged sobbingly. I felt him going more rough after hearing it. And I sobbed more. "That's even better... I'm gonna mark you as mine...none will dare to touch you" he said with an evil laugh. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. My vision was almost blurred out.

"wake up quick, darling.... I have to do it again ~" he whispered in my ear.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[cevansbrat0007]

The Slam

Summary: Ari has had a enough of your TikTok foolishness...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Brat!Reader, Prank Foolishness, References to P in V sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Now that you’ve gotten your first TikTok prank under your belt, you found you needed more. It was as if a beast – for lack of better phrasing – had been awoken inside of you. And it demanded that you served the world chaos.

At your man’s expense.

While you’d gone a little bigger the first time around, today you’d decided to dial it back just a touch. Lately you’d been watching videos of women slamming their boyfriend’s and husband’s car door after what seemed to be the most innocent of conversations. 

In retaliation, some of them yelled confused obscenities, or honked horns, others simply appeared content to stew in whatever resentment had already been brewing beneath the surface. 

Regardless, almost all of them were funny. And not only that, but you got the distinct feeling that Ari wouldn’t appreciate it. His truck was precious to him. 

Almost as precious as you. 

This morning you choose to test your luck when Ari is kind enough to drop you by your place so that you can switch out purses and grab your makeup bag before heading out for lunch. You can tell that he doesn’t fully understand the reason you need either of those things. 

In fact, when you told him what you needed, he’d been swift to grunt something to the effect of how you already looked “perfectly good to him as it was”. And although it had made the butterflies in your belly do their special little flutter that was reserved for when you received compliments just from him, you pushed him to make the stop anyway.

In part because you needed those things, but also because you wanted to fuck with him a bit.

“I promise I’ll be super quick.” You tell him, hastily undoing your seatbelt as he pulls up in your driveway. 

“Still don’t get why you needed to come here.” Your bounty hunter was hungry, and therefore also a little grumpy. “You’re already the prettiest little thing I’ve ever set my eyes on without all the extra froufrou shit.”

“You would really have me walk into a restaurant with you with a bare face?”

“Baby, real talk, I’d be proud to have you on my arm if you were wearing nothing but a paper bag.” Comes his quiet, but sincere rebuttal. 

It’s enough to make you melt.

 “You’re sweet.” 

“Uh huh.” He huffs, throwing his truck in park. “And women are weird. Besides, all that makeup looks better on my pillow anyway.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to call us weird. Could’ve sworn you were supposed to be intrigued by the feminine mystique.” You tell him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

“Weird.” Ari huffs again, clearly not moved by your response.  

“Mystique – you jerk.” Feeling slightly miffed, you decide to steal a sip of his water. 

“Can you please just go get the bag and war paint before I waste away from hunger?” You bat his hand away when he leans forward to open your door and usher you out his vehicle. “My stomach is literally trying to eat itself and you wanna fuckin’ argue.” 

“I am capable of opening it myself, thank you very much.” You hiss without any real heat before grabbing the handle.   

“Then I would very much appreciate it if you did that so we can get this show on the road.”

“Okay, okay.” You finally relent. “I’m sorry. Gimme a kiss and I’ll go–”

Ari’s mouth is on yours so fast it’s almost comical. He cups your face with calloused hands, stroking his thumbs across your temples as he does. But unfortunately, just as you’re about to sink into the kiss, he pulls away.

“Now get.” He growls, before opening the door and effectively shooing you out. 

“Fine.” Climbing out of his truck, you decide that this is your moment. “Be right back.” Closing your eyes, you give it up to the Lord before slamming Ari’s door hard. 

Actually a little harder than you intended. Ah, well. 

Grimacing, you begin to half walk, half run for your front door. After all, there was such a thing as being too brave for this world. And you’d actually felt his vehicle rattle with the force with which you’d put behind it. There was no way this man would not respond. There was no way–

“Aye!” Your shoulders automatically hunch of their own volition when you hear him throw open his own door in protest. You haven’t even made it to the front porch. ”The hell was that about?”

“What?” You try to play dumb.

“Bird. Stop.” 

It’s the calm authority in his voice that has you freezing in your tracks. It’s the same reason your panties are soaked too. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you turn around and face Ari.

“What–”

“I’m gonna need you to walk your pretty little ass back over here, baby.” He quirks a tawny brow when your legs don’t immediately start moving. “Now.”    

“Beast, I need to go inside and–”

“Ass. Here. Now. Please.” Ari tacks on the last word when he sees you frown. However, the frown stays in place as you march back over to where he’s standing, or now leaning, against the side of his truck.

“Thank you.” He grunts before cupping your cheek, drawing you forward. “Now, is there a reason you’re out here slammin’ my shit and spikin’ my blood pressure? Does this have somethin’ to do with that whole feminine mystique business again?”

As he talks, you find it hard to resist the urge to run your fingers through his newly shorn beard. You’d hung out in the bathroom with him this morning while he trimmed it, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his shirts. 

“No.” You breathe, your nostrils flaring when that same hand moves, gently lacing itself around your throat.

“You pissed at me for somethin’?” His electric blue eyes search yours for answers.

“Um…nope.” 

“You tryin’ to pick a fight?”

“Also no.” You tell him as your hand comes up to wrap around his thick wrist. “It was a joke I saw on TikTok and–.”

“Christ, I’m gonna stop you.” Ari blinks twice before forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Since you and I don’t have a problem, I’m gonna let you go inside and fetch your things. You have five minutes, or I’m comin’ in after you.”

“To do what?” You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. Sometimes this man really had no sense of humor. “Because I‘m gonna need more time than that to put on my face.”

The look this man gives you lets you know that you are absolutely trying his patience – every last piece of it. 

“You got five minutes.” Ari repeats, his thumb stroking over your pulse point. “Or I’m gonna come in there and personally take my time making sure all that makeup ends up in its proper place where it belongs.” 

“But that’s not fair!”

“Neither is subjecting me to shit you see on that damned hickory dickory dock crap you watch all the time, and yet here we are.” He leans down to brush his lips against your forehead. “Now go.”

Ari finally releases you before pulling out his phone, and it takes him only a second for him to show it to you, letting you see that he’s started a timer. And it is quickly counting down. 

“You got five minutes, sweetheart.” He winks at you then, before breaking into full blown laughter when you turn to make a break for your front door. “Otherwise I’m comin’ in after you, and it’s gonna be what it’s gonna be.” 

Forget the purse. You decide you’re better off snagging the makeup and beating it back to the truck before the timer strikes zero.   

“Bastard.” You grumble under your breath – which only makes him laugh harder.

“You just lost yourself thirty seconds for that one. Better run, Bird.” 

END

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[unfinishedslurs]

aware of his bisexuality steve (steddie, buckingham)

“Is that a hickey?” Comes out of Steve’s mouth without permission. But there it is, bright purple and red against the slope of her neck. She’s been walking kind of funny this morning, too. He’d assumed her period came early, but… “Rob, did you—“

Eddie fumbles the coffee mug he was pulling down. Chrissy freezes, face turning white with fear. Robin whips around, face bright red, and slaps a hand over her neck. 

“Bathroom!” She yelps. “Bathroom now!”

“Wait,” Eddie says, setting the mug down with trembling hands. “It was me. Sorry, man.”

Steve stares at him, unimpressed. Why the fuck would he lie about—

He looks at Chrissy again, who takes a nervous step back, and it clicks. 

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “You. You gave Robin a hickey. Had totally awesome sex that she didn’t even tell me about.” He directs that last bit at Robin pointedly. He told her almost immediately when he lost his guy-ginity. Traitor. “Yep. Sure. Got it.”

Eddie blinks, confused. Robin buries her face in her hands. 

“Oh my god, calm down,” she groans. “That’s not going to work. Steve’s cool.”

“Cool?” Chrissy asks, still looking ready to bolt. 

“Super cool,” he assures her. “The coolest. So incredibly cool, even if my best friend didn’t even tell me when she lost her virginity.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But I am going to need details, Buckley. We can go over what worked, and what needs more oomph.”

“Oh my god, can we talk about this anywhere else,” Robin groans, at the same time Eddie asks, “What, so you can get off on it later?”

“What,” Steve says. 

“You think two girls are hot, is that it?” He’s got a sneer on his face now, but Steve’s more observant than Dustin gives him credit for. Even if he wasn’t, it’d be hard to miss how hard his hands are shaking, the nervous tilt to his mouth. 

“Ew.” Steve’s face screws up. “Dude, no. It’s Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Robin breaks in, from where she’s started comforting Chrissy. “You thought I was hot for at least a summer.”

His mouth drops open in betrayal. “We agreed to never talk about that again!”

“Can’t help being sexy,” she coons. Chrissy giggles wetly. “You wanna get married, Harrington? Have my babies? Stay home and raise six little nuggets while I bring home the bread?”

“I hate you,” he informs her. “Hate you so much. We’ll have a nice, heterosexual wedding and share a sad, heterosexual kiss, and you’ll carry me over the threshold of our nice, heterosexual house, and we’ll have boring, heterosexual sex that gives us nice, heterosexual babies, because we are so heterosexual and happy in our suburburban house in our nice little heterosexual town.”

He’s honestly kind of proud of himself for saying heterosexual so many times. Usually he fumbles words with that many syllables, especially after that many times in a row. 

Chrissy is outright laughing, now, endearing little snorts making their way between giggles. Eddie is looking between them like they’re a puzzle he can’t piece together. Robin grins.

“I’ll cuck you with the secretary.”

“Not if I cuck you first. You’ll be away all day in that office of yours, and I need someone big and strong to carry all the new furniture I ordered.”

“I knew it! I knew Timmy wasn’t mine!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t help myself,” he swoons. “Mark was just so sweet, with his bulging biceps and hand flexes, all hot and sweaty from helping poor little me while you were away! You know I’m weak to curly hair and brown eyes, Rob, how’s a man supposed to resist?”

“Fag,” she says, not without affection. 

“Dyke,” he shoots back. 

“Cocksucker.”

“Carpet—“

“Okay,” Eddie breaks in, clapping his hands. He and Robin both startle, and so does Chrissy from where she’s been watching them like a particularly interesting tennis match. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Robin lost her virginity and didn’t even tell me,” Steve says immediately, like he’s tattling to the principal. 

“Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of waiting,” Robin retorts. 

“I told you when I had gay sex,” he whines, and Eddie chokes. “I hate you. See if I ever give you tips again.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Chrissy asks. “Please don’t stop. They were good tips.”

Robin flushes all the way down to her toes. 

“You like boys?” Eddie wheezes. 

“Oh,” Steve blinks. “Yeah? I thought you knew.”

“You thought I—how would I know?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Steve’s been flirting with him for months!

“Robin always says we can sense each other! You sensed her.”

“You told him?” Eddie’s mouth drops open, and Robin looks sheepish.

“She didn’t have to,” Steve snarks. “You’re flagging in Hawkins, man. Was I supposed to miss it?”

“You know what flagging is?”

“Again, in case you missed it, I fuck men.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “Fuck! Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re, like, the epitome of heterosexual. I spent half of high school having to hear about how much pussy you were getting. Why are you not straight?”

“Wow, Eddie,” he deadpans. “Are you saying just because I like men and woman, I’m not queer enough? That’s kind of homophobic of you, man.”

“Yeah, Eddie, wow,” Robin says. “I thought you were better than this.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. “I feel like I need to lie down. My entire worldview just shattered.”

“I have a couch?” Chrissy offers shyly. “Or a bedroom, if you need a minute away.” Fuck, Steve kind of adores her. Especially since she’s apparently vicious n bed, if the five other hickies he counts just from Robin bending down a little to whisper in her ear are any indication. Good for her.  

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Robin says, with a glint in her eye that means he’s either going to love or hate what comes next. “If it helps, Steve’s never fucked a man in his life.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, looking between the two of them. “So…you’re just making fun of me?”

He looks a little angry now, and Steve can’t make heads or tails of this conversation because, “What the hell, Rob, yes I have—“

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the one doing the fucking?”

“Stop making fun of me for taking it!”

Eddie lets out an honest to god moan that he immediately slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up. “Right,” he says fervently. “Okay. I need to lie down, like, for real.” 

They watch him stride down the hall, so fast he’s almost running, and slam the door closed behind him.

“I could totally top,” he mutters to Robin as something that sounds vaguely like muffled screaming echoes down the hall. “I top girls all the time. It’s not my fault prostates are a gift from God.”

“Uh, you top because all the girls you fuck are from small town Indiana. If one of them brought out the strap you’d drop to your knees so fast—“

“That’s—I like topping!”

“Your favorite position is cowgirl. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I will show Chrissy your baby pictures,” he hisses. Robin makes a face at him. Chrissy nods excitedly from where she’s still tucked under Robin’s arm. 

“Oh what’s that?” Robin practically shouts. “You like being pressed against walls and ravished? You want someone to tie you up and have their filthy way with you? Is that what you said, Steve?”

Another noise from the bedroom. He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says sweetly. “You’re both hopeless.”

“I told you he’s shy!”

“Eddie?” Chrissy asks. “Shy?”

“Yeah, okay, I was confused too, but I figured it was the romance! He told me he hasn’t actually been in a relationship before, I assumed he was nervous to take that step.”

“Yeah, but dingus,” Robin says sweetly. “You’re missing a puzzle piece here. He thought you were straight. He thought he was flirting with his straight best friend he didn’t have a chance in hell with, and then he finds out that said best friend likes taking it up the ass and men with brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Steve says, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck. What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

Robin smacks the back of his head. “Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Chrissy says. “Like, really don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not coming over tonight,” Robin says. “I’m gonna stay with Chrissy again. Er…if that’s okay?”

“That sounds amazing.” Chrissy beams, and Robin turns red again.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with Chrissy again tonight. You are going to invite Eddie to stay the night when he gets done with his little crisis, and then we’re getting lunch at the diner tomorrow and you can tell me about it before our shift.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, I can do this. I’ve invited guys over before, how hard can it be? It’s just Eddie. But that was hotel rooms, not my house and my bedroom with my shitty wallpaper. And it’s Eddie. Fuck, what if I’m shit at it? Robin, what if I’m actually bad at sex and everyone who’s ever said I was good was lying because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Oh my god, I’m totally bad at sex.”

“Woah, dingus, slow down. I think we took the mind meld too far, you’re turning into me.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re bad at sex,” Chrissy says. Steve and Robin look at her, and she flushes. “Because of the tips! Not because—I’ve never slept with you, but some of my friends did, and I got three orgasms out of last night, so…”

“Oh thank God,” he breathes. “I was worried for a minute.” Then he raises an eyebrow at Robin, and holds out his hand for a high five. She slaps it, begrudgingly proud of herself, and then takes the hand to pull him into a headlock that’s honestly more of a hug than anything. 

“You’re fine,” she whispers in his ear. “You’re great at sex, as you keep telling me. What’s more, you’re funny, charming, handsome, brave, caring—“

“Aww, Robin, are you getting sappy on me?”

“Plus Eddie literally moaned in front of you when he found out you bottomed. I really don’t think there’s a way to fuck that up.”

Steve grins. “He did do that. I’m going to make so much fun of him later.”

“So,” Eddie says with a smirk, “men with brown eyes?”

“Hey man, don’t look at me. Blame Jonathan.”

Now Eddie looks stunned, mouth dropping open. “Byers?” He says, sounding betrayed. “You have a crush on Byers of all people?”

Steve feels offended on Jonathan’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a good guy!”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess? He’s sweet, passionate, good with kids, nice eyes. Can pack a punch. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Uh, didn’t he steal your girlfriend?”

He waves that off. “That was, like, years ago, man. We’re cool now.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Well have fun with Byers, I guess.”

It clicks. “Oh,” he says. “Oooh. You’re jealous.”

Eddie splutters. “Jealous? I’m not—I don’t—you’re jealous!”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says resolutely, not looking at him. 

“Right,” Steve agrees. “Well, if I am jealous, maybe I should know that I got over Jonathan years ago, and have since moved on to brighter, hopefully more attainable pastures than my ex’s ex.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“A different man with brown eyes?” He suggests. “Who is also good with kids, and passionate, and…” he trails off, suddenly realizing all those times Robin made fun of him might not be based on nothing. “Oh my god, I have a type. Shit, I have to tell Robin she was right.”

“I figured that was a common occurrence.”

“Shut up. Where was I going with this? I had a point.”

“You were telling me how awesome I am?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s you we’re talking about?”

“I mean,” suddenly Eddie looks shy, and Steve can’t help but think even with the change in context he might have been right when he told Robin Eddie was nervous about being in a real, romantic relationship, “isn’t it?”

He feels himself smile, slow and wide and probably more revealing than he means it to be. “Yeah,” he says, in a tone he knows Robin would call soppy, “it is.”

[hotnbloodied]

Hiiii can I request popular yandere classmate x oblivious reader, oh and can it be smut pleassee?

Thanks for your ask! I started randomly naming all my yanderes even if they are all one shots, I don't know if I want to keep it though. We'll see. This one almost fucking tore me to shreds, I might need a break after this. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Popular Boy X Oblivious Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, there is SEX, sloppy lewd writing, yandere tendencies, reader is kind of silly here. (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

It was the first group project of the year! You and three other people were going to be randomly assigned together to work on a research project about something or another. The first two seemed like nice people but the third was Atticus, your friends have talked about him before. Wasn’t he popular or something? When the group met face to face you finally understood why, he was funny, charismatic and quite the looker. Your group decided to meet up in the library and you thanked your lucky stars that it seemed everyone was working well with each other. The other two in the group knew each other and were friends so when one of them had to leave later on in the day the other one did so as well leaving you and Atticus the only ones in the group still in the library.

Without the other two here, people were more inclined to come by to say hi to Atticus causing him to get distracted, you didn’t care much honestly, you had work to do after all. You overheard a couple of the people who came to talk to Atticus talk about some sort of group karaoke and that he should join them. “Sorry guys, I’m still with my group partner,” he apologized. You looked up, “it’s all good, this is just the first day after all.” Atticus looked at you incredulously. “See? Even your groupmate thinks it’s fine. Join us, Atticus, the girls are asking for you.” Internally he was annoyed, he already said no and the least his groupmate could do was back him up. Were you really that stupid? Eventually though, he was able to convince them to leave him alone. But when he turned expecting to see you still sitting there you were gone. Your stuff was still here so he assumed you went to get more material to research.

Scanning over the library he spots you eventually, struggling to reach for a book on a higher shelf. He sighs and starts walking over to assist but it turns into a run when he notices that you’re about to get toppled by said books. He covers you from getting hurt and curses at himself because having books fall on him fucking hurts. “What are you doing?” He says sternly, “if you can’t reach something ask for help.” He gasps, some of his true self leaked out, his image of a prince type is over. “Dang I’m sorry, you’re right. No sense in getting myself hurt, thanks! By the way, are you okay?” Suddenly, his heart raced, he didn’t know why. It might have been the way you looked under him currently, or it might have been the way you accept his rough tone with you, but either way he was going to explore it, explore you.

The project goes by smoothly, you still hang out with Atticus since the two of you exchanged numbers due to the project. You found it really weird though, each time you hung out with him and his friends, his friends were never able to make it. You hope you’re not scaring them away. Little did you know that if anyone is scaring people away it’s Atticus. The more time he spent with you was like heaven but also hell. He loved spending time and learning new things about you but, fuck, why were you not picking up any of the hints and flirty signs he was giving you?! Like today when it was just the two of you again, you two were at the movies and he tried to get an arm over your shoulder. “Oh my! Are you cold? Here, you can have my jacket.” And wrapped him up in your jacket! Sure, being able to smell your scent was nice but that’s not what he wanted! To rub salt on the wound too, after the movies his friends spotted him and invited you two to join them and you ACCEPTED! “Oh sorry, were you guys on a date?” One of his friends asked. “Oh no, we’re just chilling! We’d love to join you!” You responded. He almost choked up blood.

He went to his last resort and feigned sickness. Worry etched your face and you apologized as you helped carry him away. He convinced you to go to his place since it was nearby and was a bit hurt that you agreed so readily, you were going to be in a private space with him after all. Arriving at his place you helped him inside, all the way to his room. As you wished him better and got up to leave he tugged your arm. “Wait a minute,” he says. “Hm? What’s up, need something?” He hugs you, “I… I need you.” Not sure what he meant, but feeling like he needed this, you hugged him and both of you stayed like that for a while. That was, until his lower half decided to act up. “Do you, uh, need help with that?” You ask, almost too innocently. His face flushed, “help with this…?” “Of course, a boner is a natural part of your body, you know. Though I also heard that boners don’t happen just because someone is horny though…are you horny?” Atticus felt the blood rush to his head, all he could do was meekly nod.

You were sucking on his member, he could tell that you’ve done something like this before but maybe not too often due to the slight hesitation you exhibited. Regardless though he never imagined you would have been so willing to do this for him, should he have asked sooner? The sight of your mouth wrapped so prettily around his cock, he wasn’t the type that was quick to cum but just because it was you doing this act on him he felt close. He couldn’t have that, so he grabbed your shoulder and urged you on to his bed. “Take off your clothes,” he instructs. You did as he told, he gulped, he wanted this for how long now? It felt surreal that this was real. He couldn’t help but use his hands to explore your body, groping, touching, feeling your warmth. Your breathing quickened, you weren’t sure why he was taking so long, his exploration of your body started making you feel needy. You were close to telling him to hurry but let out a yelp when he started to suck and lick on your chest. He worked his way down to your lower area.

“What are you doing? Is all this necessary?” You ask him. “Please,” he begged, “I just need this, won’t you let me?” You whimpered, this is good and all but all this teasing is something you aren’t used to. He sucked and tongue prodded you for a while, you said that you would let him do what he wanted but you wanted to release soon and his tongue wasn’t doing that for you. “Hey, uh– hnn!!” Before you could say anything more he inserted a finger then two into you, rhythmically finger fucking you. Making sure to brush against your g spot each time. You were so close and Atticus knew it, so he stopped making you whine even louder. “Why did you stop?” “Grind on my dick,” he ordered. Sluggishly you got up and did as he was told. “Don’t even try to insert before I allow you to.” So you rubbed your sensitive area against him, slow at first but even you can grow impatient and you’ve been that for a while. Your wetness making a mess and with your bodies grinding against each other a squelching sound reverberated through the room along with the heavy panting and moaning. “Soon please?” You begged. Atticus needed you badly as well so he pushed you down on the bed again and aligned himself before pushing in causing you to scream out from the intrusion. He jackhammered you silly, “fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted like a mantra, “I need you so bad.” What followed was one of the hardest orgasms you ever had. He unsheathed from you and quickly went to your face marking your face all over with his seed.

After a couple of beats you asked, “hey, uh, can I have some napkins?” “S-sorry,” he scrambled to his drawer and took out a box of tissues. After you cleaned yourself up you asked, “I’d like to borrow your bathroom.” He told you that it was down the hall. You took your clothes and left his room, when you came back you thanked him. “Well that was fun! I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later alright?” And left. He was shocked, how fucking clueless can you be?? He was going to make sure you understood that you were his now and he was going to move heaven and hell to make sure that happens, his darling.

[borathae]

Man of the Hour

“You love your best friends, which means that Jungkook will do anything in his powers to make sure that they are safe.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Comfort

Warnings: protective!Jungkook, one of OC's friends needs help and he is there for her, sexual harassment, he's the best hubby ever, mentions of sexwork, tears, he's quite frankly The Man

Wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: the header fucking ruins me. he is so handsome ngngn. also, i saw a tiktok about a woman's husband helping her bestie move out of her abusive ex's place and went "you know what? aaol!Kook would always be there for OC's besties" so i wanted to write something about it 🤍

Six fourty two. Jungkook has a little over an hour left until he can finally go home. He doesn’t know that yet because he is currently lost in his work. He has concepts to write and contracts to go through. Jungkook has a very thorough and good team of lawyers which go through anything law related, but Jungkook still likes to check for himself. In his field of work, it is best to trust himself and only himself.

You are already at home, promising him dinner. His favourite. He can’t wait to get home to you. He will give you the tightest hug imaginable and then follow it up with a smooch to your face and lots of promises of his eternal love.

His phone rings. 

Jungkook looks at his smart watch, furrowing his brows in confusion. This is a caller he hadn’t expected to call. He picks up with a funny feeling in his stomach.

“Noona?”

“Jungkook, thank fuck you picked up. I didn’t know who else to call, I need your help.”

At that his ears perk up. The distress is obvious in her voice.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Loud club music plays in the background. Distorted voices are filling the chaos as well.

“No. I’m at Saturn and there are men who want to hurt me. T-they keep talking about taking turns on, on me.”

Jungkook straightens up in his chair.

“Are you safe right now?”

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” Loud banging. “Jungkook, can you please come and get me? They’re banging on the door. I’m scared.”

“I’m coming. Don’t go anywhere. I promise, I’m coming.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The phone call ends.

“Noona? Wheein noona?” Jungkook tries, ‘goddamn it, I’m coming.”

He leaves his office quickly, typing in your number to let you know what was happening.

“Bunny, hey there”, you sound happy about his call. “Are you coming home earlier?”

“Wheein noona is in danger.”

“What!?”

“She just called me that she is at Saturn and some assholes are trying to hurt her. She’s in the bathroom, safe for now, but I’m gonna get her.”

“Holy fuck, Kook. Please get her, please. I’m gonna call her right away.”

“Do that. See you later, love.”

“See you.”

The phone call ends. Jungkook gets into his car moments later, driving off as quickly as the law allows. He won’t let Wheein wait. He won’t let any of your friends wait. 

They lovingly call him their adoptive man of the hour sometimes because he will always be there for them if one of them needs male support. Be it something as innocent as moving furniture too heavy or hanging up curtains on a window too high, Jungkook will be there to help as best as possible. The same counts for the heavy stuff. Like rescuing Wheein from a dangerous situation because some men see a sex worker and think they have free range to do anything to her. Or stuff like letting Byulyi crash in his guest bedroom for a few weeks because her ex boyfriend turned out to be a piece of shit abuser and she needed to escape the situation. He even helped her move all her stuff, taking his biggest car so she wouldn’t have to go back to the place more than once. 

Jungkook cares and he cares honestly. Which is why he is officially the adoptive man of the hour for your girls. 

Tonight is no different. Jungkook hurries to the club bathroom as quickly as possible, pushing strangers aside with little care about how rude he might seem. Manners don’t count when one of his friends is in danger. 

The men aren’t in front of the bathroom anymore, but that doesn’t calm Jungkook down. They could still be hiding somewhere, waiting for a moment to jump Wheein if she ever comes out. 

He knocks on the door, calling out Wheein’s name.

“It’s me. Jungkook. The air’s clear, I promise.” 

Seconds later the door unlocks. Her face is messy because she cried off her makeup.

“Noona, hey there.” Jungkook steps closer, resting his hands on the doorframe so she was shielded from prying eyes and therefore safe. “I came as quickly as I could. How are you?”

“I’m sorry for calling. I didn’t know who else to call. You’re the only man I can trust.”

“Don’t apologise, noona. I’m just glad that you’re okay. Should we go home?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Our place or yours?”

“Can I s-stay at your place for a while?” she stutters, looking smaller than normally. Anxiety is definitely shrinking her.

“Of course, you can.” Jungkook assures her and looks over his shoulder. A few men are looking at him. Is that them? He sends them a deathly glare, then looks back at Wheein with soft eyes. “Is it okay for me to put my arm around you? So I can keep you safe?”

“Yeah, please. I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot to ask.”

“Don’t worry. It’s to keep you safe. You can hide away in my side if you need to. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“Thank you so much”, she barely gets out and seeks safety in his arms, knowing that she won’t be hurt anymore. And Jungkook takes pride in knowing that he can help her leave this shady place unharmed. He won’t ever let any of your friends get hurt. He will protect them just as much as he will protect you. They are his girls because they are your girls. And Jungkook fights for his girls.

The strange men inch closer like hyenas. So Jungkook’s gist was correct.

“Where are you taking her? We were here first”, one of them tries to fight him, while the others gawk lustfully. Like fucking starving animals. Disgusting.

“I’m gonna punch in your face if you keep talking”, Jungkook spits and leads Wheein past them without giving them any more attention.

“Hey!”

“Come back!”

They call after them.

“Don’t listen to them, noona. I’m here now”, Jungkook assures her and pulls her closer, “fuck, should I get back there and get their names? I’ll tell my lawyers to take care of them.”

“No please just, please just take me away”, she pleads because she is too scared to stay in this situation any longer. Jungkook respects her decision even if he really wants to punish them.

“Alright, I will. Don’t worry”, Jungkook promises, leading her safely out of the club and to his car.

He helps her inside and rounds the car, looking at the club one last time. The animals which call themselves men are lingering by the entrance, sending deathly glances Jungkook’s way.

“Fucking vermin”, he presses out and gets inside his car. He locks the doors and starts the engine. “I’ve got water in the door compartment if you need it.”

“Thank you”, Wheein whispers and relaxes in the seat just as Jungkook finally takes her away from the scary situation.

You are in the parking garage, dressed in slippers and your loungewear and looking beyond worried, when they finally arrive at home. You run to Wheein the moment the car pulls in, calling out to her.

“Unnie! Oh god, I was so worried!” you hug her tightly. So tightly in fact that her brittle composure finally breaks and she cries into your shoulder. 

“I was so scared. So, so scared.”

“I’m sorry, unnie. Oh god this is awful, I’m sorry. Let’s go upstairs, I made tea.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I need this tonight.”

“Unnie, of course. You can crash here if you want to.”

“I think I do.”

“You can stay as long as you need. What happened? Do you wanna tell me? Oh god, unnie I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I was so scared. One of them recognised me from Paradis and, and then he and his friends tried to get me to fuck them and when I said no they followed me to-” She hides away in your arms. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay unnie, it’s okay. Just cry in my arms, I’m here.”

Jungkook lets you and Wheein talk, while he stands next to you and listens, rubbing your lower back soothingly. Wheein cries the entire elevator ride, telling you all about what happened while you curse at the men. Jungkook wanted to curse as well. He hates most of his fellow men a lot. He bears witness to how most act and think and talk when there are no women present. If Jungkook saved up each time one of his business partners made a misogynistic “joke” about their wives or women in general, he would be able to buy a house within six months. If he saved up each time he has one of them confesses how they are cheating on said wives followed by a “huh? As a man you should understand me” when Jungkook voices his distaste for such behaviour, he could buy a new sports car within seven months. Jungkook loathes most of his fellow men and how they carry their hatred for half of humanity with fucking pride. 

Wheein eats dinner with you, after taking a shower and borrowing some of your clothes. You sit by her side, holding her hand as she keeps repeating the story over and over again to work through it. Neither you nor Jungkook mind that she keeps repeating herself. Sometimes one just needs to keep talking about the same stuff over and over again until it finally stops hurting.

After dinner, you and Jungkook don’t really get to talk a lot because somehow the situation was so shocking that you both forgot to function until Wheein was truly safe in her bed. 

Jungkook is still in his suit, cleaning the kitchen after loading the dishwasher, when you return from the bathroom. He shrugged off his jacket and tie, but kept his waistcoat on. The main lights are off, only the stand lights in the living room are turned on and the light above the stove. Jungkook likes working in darkness because it is easier on his eyes. They get sensitive after a long day at the office.

You come up behind him, sneaking your arms around him so your hands were resting on his pecs innocently. Jungkook places the towel aside and leans back into your hug, caressing your lower arms.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“Mhm”, he hums, closing his eyes. 

“Thank you so fucking much.”

He hums again. You turn him to you, holding his hands and pressing them against his chest. He looks at you, waiting for you to speak. The gratitude in your eyes is almost consuming them whole.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did for Wheein today. What you keep doing for all of them.”

“They’re your best friends, which means I gotta be there for them. No, I want to be there for them.”

“You and I both know that not many think this way. Seriously, thank you so fucking much.”

He smiles, discarding you with a shake of his head.

“I’m just glad that noona is safe.”

“Me too. Fuck, me too”, you say, sagging your shoulders. You look up at him, pouting sadly to the point where your lower lip trembles. “I think I need a hug.”

“Come here.” Jungkook hugs you, rubbing the back of your head. “She’s safe now. I promise.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Me too.” Jungkook hugs you tighter when he hears you sniffle. “Let it out if you need to. I’m here for you.”

You melt into him, feeling safe. He is truly the man of the hour. Your gentle, good hearted man of the hour. 

[kamii-2]

I neeeed a paige x reader with the reader using the strap bc I just saw a post where they said they would strap paige down and they r just so real for that 😝🎀

hi anon!! this idea is funny asf but also real asf, so i hope you enjoy it!!

warning(s): cussing, smut

genre: smut

pairing(s): paige bueckers x reader

==================================

“paige, can i strap you tonight?” you asked while leaning against the kitchen island while paige was in the living room on the couch, “absolutely not.” she laughed. “why? i wanna know what it feels like to fuck someone with the strap.” you begged, “no. you are not fucking me the damn strap.” she laughed again, “bro please.” you pleaded while walking up behind her. she put her head back and looked up at you, “please?” you asked again. “fine but this is the one and only time.” she gave in, you smiled and walked around to in front of her. “thank you.” you kissed her on the cheek, “when can i?” you asked her, “later in the day so i can mentally prepare myself for this.” she said and you laughed but she was serious.

-

you kissed her on the lips before lining up with her entrance, “are you ready?” you asked with your hands on her hips. “…yea.” she seemed unsure, “before i start i’d like to say you can tell me to stop whenever you’d like and i won’t get mad.” you told her while your thumbs rub her hips in reassurance, she nodded and you slowly pushed in. “it doesn’t feel right y/n.” she looked uncomfortable, “it will for a little because your body isn’t used to getting stretched like this.” you told her while pushing the rest in slowly. you gave her a little to get used to the feeling before you thrusted in and out.

she started breathing heavily, soft moans slipping out. “fuck, go faster.” she was already asking for more. you were surprised she already liked it but you weren’t complaining at all. “i should’ve let you do this sooner.” paige said while breathing heavier than before. “see, i knew you’d like this.” you smiled while going faster like she asked. actual moans were starting to spill out of her mouth instead of whimpers and heavy breathing.

paige gripped your arm hard as she was about to cum, definitely leaving a bruise. “i-i’m about to cum.” she groaned out as she gripped your arm harder. you kept going and soon enough she came on the strap. “maybe i’ll let you do this again one day.” she said out of breath as she used to elbows to sit up and watch you take the strap off. “what happened to ‘this is the one and only time’ hm?” you teased her as you say next to her leaning in a little, “shut up.” she laughed and she pushed your face away.

==================================

im sorry this is short but i hope you enjoyed it!! i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[renonv]

Spamano Week Day 2 & 3 : Mochis & 2p

Mannnn late yet again BUT ALSO on time 🙏😏

I think both of these concepts are so fun 😭 like the existence of mochis within the universe is crazy but it’s so fucking funny… and oughhh the two pees.. I used to not really care for them BUT I figured them out for myself and now they are a fun thing to rotate in my head nsnddkk

I’ll go more into detail of how I see their 2p versions under the cuttt but WOO I’m on tha rolll

@spamano-week

HI WELCOME TO THE RAMBLINGS OF A CRAZY OLD MAN

Flavio: Literally Flavio to me is what Romano would have been like if he wasn’t fighting the internalized homophobia/ machismo demons 🙏 he’s flamboyant he’s (still) loud, he stands his ground and he is a fucking divaaa. He’s cunning, takes great pride and care and time into his appearance, he expresses his love freely and loudly, and he’s not afraid to pick a fight. He lacks general anxiety and self preservation. He’s also a tad selfish, and just generally two faced. To me, while Romano puts out the harsh exterior, underneath it all he is a vulnerable and sensitive person. Flavio puts on the very approachable exterior, and will be nice, but inside he’s brewing some out of pocket shit. However, he loves and cares deeply and genuinely for a very special few.

If Romano was to meet him, he would call him a slur. But also be jealous of the way Flavio carries himself. If Flavio were to meet Romano, be would make him his next make over project, he is his new gay god mother. Flavio would be jealous of how many people genuinely care about Romano, even if the guy chooses to act like an asshole.

Santiago: He is a quiet and an intimidating guy, not because he’s plotting shit in his head, but because he just does not know how to carry himself around people. While Antonio is an approachable, sociable man who’s always working on putting out positivity and try to do good by everyone because that’s just how he is (and how he copes), Santiago withdraws himself from everyone because 1) Bro genuinely doesn’t get social cues or socialization and 2) thinks of it as better this way for the general public. He’s a little edgy, but in a “scared to hurt others” way rather than “society doesn’t get me” way. Since he yaps significantly less than Antonio, he’s a good listener and is also a bit less dense on certain things. He’s a bit more prone to picking up on the underlying emotions or when people are being sarcastic / say one thing but mean another.

If Santiago and Antonio ever met, it would be… interesting. Santiago would be put off by Antonio’s high energy, but at the same time wish he could express himself as easily as the other, and be as comfortable with physical touch. Antonio would absolutely loose his mind over the gray streak of hair, bro looks very punk rock. He would think of the other as awkward, but also be very impressed at his observational skills.

[mechaknight-98]

Paragon (NSFW) FT Yeji

author’s note Yeji is super hot especially in this dress. Been meaning to write her and I think I hit the right notes for this one

I got the call that the villain Light Fury was rampaging through the city. I groaned and suited up. I flew to Downtown

“Oh, Paragon you finally arrive. I was getting worried you wouldn’t show.”

My head was killing me so I responded, “Look light fury it’s barely Tuesday and it’s been a long week so can we hurry up.” I watched as the Villainess hesitated when she locked eyes with me. They held…concern no impossible no girl would interested in me especially not a supervillain as attractive as Light Fury. Huh, that’s a weird thought. I pondered, “Do I have a crush on my Archenemy?”

Lost in thought I didn’t see the giant plasma bolt flying towards me. It knocked me into an abandoned warehouse. It hurt but I was processing several different emotions so I just sat there for a minute.

“Do I like light fury ?” I ask myself.“No impossible I’m a hero. She’s a villain, but she's so smart, industrious, funny and we’re so close.” I say to myself.

“Am I a villain?” I questioned as I had teamed up with light fury numerous times to beat up on the worst of the Villains . Despite her being a supervillain it was quite often our values aligned. Unbeknownst to me light fury was flying to the warehouse as I was having my crisis.

“Like I almost killed my landlord yesterday for price gouging. I was so close to snapping his pencil neck. Although gouging his eyes out would have been more poetic. Listen to me I am one step short from monologing about the evils of the world and I don't feel anything except satisfaction because I keep feeling these unbearably strong violent ideations and antisocial tendencies. Am I just cosplaying hero to satisfy these cravings for violence I’ve been having.” Light Fury overhears me and is immediately taken back at hearing the hero she’s been fighting for the past 2 years having some very villainous thoughts, but she’d be remiss if she didn’t admit she kinda liked it when I flew off the handle. What came to her mind was their team-up where I nearly beat Dr.Cataclysm to death. almost single-handed. She saw the fire alight in his eyes and his heart race when they faced him. The rage and fire she got from me seemed to invigorate her making her powers stronger in the fight. She moved her hand into a skin-tight suit as she began to touch herself as she listened

“Maybe I should just finish the fight with light fury, turn her in, and call it a day, but she looks so hot today that new suit she wears makes her body look so good…what am I saying that’s my arch-villain and I’m drooling over her like I’m in high school again. I need a girlfriend.” I lamented Light Fury began to touch herself more intensely as she listened to my inner turmoil. The thought of corrupting her opposite excited her to no end. “What the fuck is wrong with me today. First, the landlord raised the rent, I almost lost it, and now I am lusting over my Archenemy. Get a grip, Hugo. I know I should go back to therapy…no that didn’t stop the rage I feel though. The only thing that quells that has been doing all the superhero stuff, but I’ve been getting worse.” I lament further

Watching me agonize and ponder my position Yeji stifles a moan escaping from her lips. The bottom of her villain suit and panties are gone as she further gives into her desires. His fingers dive in and out of her starving pussy.

“Hugo” light fury whispers. The first time she’s heard the real name of her nemesis. It excited her, but not in the case of perceived advantage but to be more intimate with the object of desires she has long repressed. Light fury gets a little closer now feeling herself burning up from arousal over my mental crisis and me lusting over her. She was also coming to terms with her loneliness and seeing such a strong and fertile young man who desired her…well her body reacted accordingly. I hear rustling and turn to see Light Fury standing in the corner of the warehouse shadows covering her. I turn to her terrified I ready myself to fight but light fury approaches me calmly her hips sashay with an eerily seductive quality. Seeing her half-naked paralyzed me as my body demands to fuck her but my mind rages against the primal part of me. As always her gaze is intense on approach but not of hatred. I see only one thing in her eyes…desire

“Little hero has been having some less than heroic thoughts about me. It gets me a little excited” She coos as she closes in on me her body pins me to the ground. I stiffen everywhere.

I’m used to being close to her but never with this feeling between us. She wraps her arms around me and brings me into her embrace. “Shush your worries.” She comes close. My resolve is hanging by a thread we both want each other but I… I can’t bring myself to…”Come, little hero.” She whispered in a seductive tone, and the thoughts I had been suppressing broke the floodgates. I rip Light Fury’s mask and my helmet off and devour her in a fervent kiss. The fiery Dragon queen as she was known by many greedily accepted my advances.

I run my hand through her auburn hair as the kiss between us begins to turn more passionate. Light Fury’s claws extended as she tore into my armor leaving me bare before her. She broke our kiss to appraise my body. Her eyes stopped at my crotch.

“Hmm, looks lit “Little hero” isn’t so little.” Light Fury says with a smile. Her hands reach out to my cock and I groan.

“Oh fuck light fury.” I moan light fury smiles maliciously as she strokes me a bit harder. One of my hands ventures down to her folds eager to reciprocate her passion and lust

“Yeji.” Light Fury says

“Huh?”I question

“My name is Yeji.” Light Fury responds

“Fuck Yeji keep going.” I moan as she gets a particularly substantial grip on my cock. Yeji smiles wickedly.

“Beg for it little hero Beg for your archenemy to make you cum.” Yeji says as takes a violent grip on my…no her cock. My body and mind have fully submitted to her whims.

“Please Yeji make me cum.”

Yeji grins madly fawning over the power she holds over me

“You can do better.” She admonishes

“Oh fuck Yeji please let me cum. ride my cock tills it’s spent in your pussy. Fuck me till I can’t even remember my name.” I moan desperate to feel her pussy on my cock. Yeji smirks before mounting me. She moans intensely as I fill her to the brim.

“Little hero isn’t so little.” Yeji coos. I groan as she holds me in place. Her pussy pulsated around my cock attempting to properly adjust to it. She groaned, and then she began to ride me. it started slow at first as we still were feeling each other out pawing at each other and getting to know each other's body. hers was tight and firm but bowed and curved in all the hottest and best places. Yeji smiled as his hands dug into my flesh. "Big Hero likes his Archenemy's pussy." she asks I nod breathlessly. Yeji takes it as a provocation to increase her pace which is par the course for her. Yeji is as unrelenting in riding me as she is in our fights perhaps more so here.

"You know Paragon you saved me before I became Light Fury," Yeji said as she sank further down onto my rod before lifting her tight sexy ass and slamming it back down on my crotch. I groan as she orgasms then and there. I continue to thrust in her extending the endeavor as I question her previous statement.

"Really?" I ask curious about previous encounters.

"Yes When Dr Cataclysm was collecting women for his vile experiment I was one of the subjects. His greatest success and his greatest failure." He called me." My blood boiled at the mention of Dr Cataclysm he had killed one of my closest friends and it took everything in me to let the Hero's association deal with him. He was a monster with no morals or guidance. few villains were as reviled as he was. In my anger, Yeji squealed.

"Oh Hero you're being so rough now. I love it. Did I strike a nerve mentioning the Good Doctor? Don't worry Big Hero. It was not your fault. The association made you stay your hand." Yeji says unknowingly. igniting the fire within me that burned brighter than any star.

"That fucking bastard hid among us like a wolf in sheepskin. He mocked us. and led us on goose chases while he preyed on the vulnerable. I should have ripped his throat out when I had his neck in my hands." I growled as I thrust into Yeji. She smiled seeing the color of my eyes change to the burnt Umber they would get whenever I was truly angry. Yeji was in bliss as I took my anger out on her. I fucked her harder and harder my senses dulling as pleasure and anger washed over me while using her. Yeji's smile was wicked and bright as I continued to thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

"I can feel you twitching harder Hero. Are you about to cum. Do it Cum in my pussy. Do it." Yeji mewled with a needy tone. Her words sent me over the edge as I dumped a load into her wanton pussy. As our bodies calmed down we stared at each other a confusing wave of emotions washed over us as the sexual tension dissipated.

"I can't believe I did that," we said simultaneously as our rationale came back to us. Yeji looked at me with a Vulnerable look.

"I am sorry Paragon. I shouldn't have done that to you," she said remorseful. I dismissed her.

"No, I was a consenting participant." I rebuked "Fuck...Why did you have to be so cute." I lament. Yeji looks at me with a surprised shocked look before blushing.

"Is that affection in your tone?" Yeji questions sternly.

I nod, "Yeah you are stunning, and had the circumstances been different I definitely would have asked you out."

"What's stopping Hugo from Asking Yeji out?" Yeji asks me with an innocent look

"Really? you know what screw it we're already this deep in. Hi Yeji would you like to get coffee sometime?" I ask meekly. Yeji smiles a more wholesome smile and winks at me. "I'd love to Hugo."

"Does tomorrow work?" she asks. I nod. "Great. Give me your phone so we can share numbers. I nod and conjure my phone to my hand.

"Oh, that's so cool," Yeji notes smiling. I smile brightly at her back, and we exchange numbers. I conjure my civilian clothes while she does a Carter twirl and turns back into her nice form-fitting black dress I assumed she was wearing before.

"You're drooling." Yeji teased. I nodded and rebuked

"Yes. Do you see how hot you are? Or is it only on me to tell you?"

Yeji smiles before saying, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I hope so because my goodness you are stunning," I reply

Yeji smiles then her face goes stern. "Okay stop it. you're too sweet." I nod and reply

"I am sorry this is just my first relationship...Being a hero and with my actual job. it doesn't leave time for much...Cavorting with others." as I explain Yeji's face softens.

"I never considered that, but yeah you keep your identity secret," Yeji affirms and I nod.

we both walk out of the warehouse. I use my magic to repair it.

"You know I don't know how your powers work?" Yeji asked with innocent curiosity.

"Oh no missy I am not revealing the secret of my powers. What if you're just using me to get to know my weaknesses?"

"Hugo I let you cum in me...Quite a bit I might add I can still feel it sloshing inside of me." Yeji laughs. I laugh with her and reply

"Well, I can't be too careful. We are still enemies after all."

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”